Lead Lungs

Malcolm caught the train back at 1:35 in the morning. Despite the time, the station was still buzzing. Europa was a city of the night. It almost seemed to thrive more in darkness, than it did in light. The train produced sounds of the air being sliced; akin to wind whipping past you on the edge of a misty cliff. Rain pelted the windows, scraping against them near horizontal. The train twisted and turned through the high-rise buildings around it, the tracks carefully carving through the skyline. The speed made every twist and turn barely noticeable, although his stomach would occasionally flip at the thought of travelling 250 miles per hour into a concrete wall. He felt in his pocket for the comforting outline of his Singer .45 Pistol. The feeling of simple safety. At least the Eclipse don’t steal. One of the few merits he could give them.

Malcolm could never go anywhere unarmed. These streets were far too dangerous to even consider it. He needed it to protect himself. If he couldn’t protect himself, he could hardly protect Selene.

The painkillers were beginning to wear off as he stepped out of the train. He also itched for some trick, but he knew it was a tough buy in this market. New regulations didn’t help either. It didn’t bother him that much; not an addiction, it just helped take the edge off sometimes. But no, he wouldn’t be able to get any for a while. Didn’t bother him though. Wasn’t an addiction.

The path out of the train station was lit by blue, florescent lights running down either side of the path. Beyond that little was visible. He walked as quickly as he could to the door of the apartment building, although luckily it was only 5 minutes from the train station. On the way, he only saw one man, sitting alone by the side of the street. The man’s body was covered in transplants: All four of his limbs, as well as his eye and one half of his chest. He didn’t look like he was planning on going anywhere, so he would soon be taken again, just as Malcolm was earlier that night. The city was ruthless.

He unlocked the door with the swipe of a keycard, and it opened to the sight of his wife's eyes staring blankly at him. She was holding a cup of coffee, clearly cold.

“Why did you wait up,” Malcolm said.

“How was I supposed to sleep?” Selene responded. “I’ve told you about staying out late Malcolm. You know this has happened before.”

Selene placed the cup on the table beside her and came forward to hug him. Her cheek lay on his chest.

“What was it this time?” She asked.

He hesitated.

“I'm not sure.”

She released the hug to face Malcolm, still holding him with her hands.

“You're not sure?”

“They hid the logs, must’ve tightened up on security or something.”

“So it’s internal?”

“Well, I—”

She released him completely.

“Jesus, Malc.” She looked up at him with those eyes that she knew he hated. They made him feel hopeless. Her hands couldn’t stop fidgeting with the seam of her nightgown.

“Not all internals are that bad. Healthcare’s getting better and they’ve got a 95% survival rate now-a-days.”

He reached down to hold her hand. She jerked away.

“Not if you have gridiron,” she said.

She moved away from him and began to pace. What was making her so suspicious he never could work out. She always seemed to know when something was wrong, and usually he'd tell her. He couldn’t this time. She knows the symptoms as well as he does. Chances are if he had gridiron, he wouldn’t be making it. He couldn’t tell her that now, could he? Watch as her heart shattered into a million pieces. If he did have gridiron, he wouldn’t want to die with her weighted consciousness in the forefront. She didn’t have to know anything. Nobody had said gridiron anyways.

“Honey, I don’t have gridiron. No symptoms, no nothing.”

“No vomiting?”

“No vomiting.”

“You really think you're going to be okay?”

“I survived the last two, didn’t I?” he reached to hug her again. “I was born a survivor.”

Her head rose and fell as he breathed. She was holding him tighter than usual.

“You were born an idiot. But then you met me, and it all fell into place.” She looked up at him and smiled. “You would be long dead without me.”

“Dead’s a bit of a stretch don’t you think?”

Her expression turned quizzical.

“Do you not remember Bordeaux?”

He winced. He had forgotten about that situation entirely.

“Fair.”

She yawned and released him from her embrace, kissing his chest as she left.

“You better find yourself in bed soon. There’s work in the morning.”

“I’ll see you there.”

Selene walked down the corridor into their bedroom, leaving the door ajar behind her. He moved down the corridor, past the bedroom door, and into the living room. The room was pitch black, accentuated only by the lights of the city outside of the wall-length window. Unlike within the darkness of their home, the city's lights never seemed to turn off. He slid open the window and walked out onto the balcony. Rain trickled down the edges of the wall, falling into the open space in front of him, forming a shield towards the outside world. It was calmer at night. He needed calm. He already knew what was to become of him. It was only a matter of weeks, or months. There had never been any sort of cure. Deterrents, sure, but it always came back. He already knew what Selene would be saying to him: ‘Don’t worry about things you can’t change.’ But there were things he could change. If he couldn’t change the outcome, he could change the process. Change his legacy. Or something like that. He didn’t even have a diagnosis yet he didn’t know what got him so worked up. He was just so sure. He had symptoms, but more than that, he had a feeling. His feelings were usually right. Selene said he had a ‘detective’s gut.’

His mind snapped back to reality. She was certainly right tonight. He had to wake up at 7:30 tomorrow morning. He couldn’t stay up all night. The mines were tiring enough, without having to work on five hours of sleep. He snuck back into the house, silently closing the window behind him. Moving down the corridor quickly, he gently opened the door, and moved into bed beside Selene. She gently moved herself closer to him as he entered the bed. Her warmth guided him to sleep. He can’t remember vividly, but he was certain that he dreamt of liquid lead, running out of his eyes, and streaking tears along his cheek.

. . .

As they do every day, the sirens woke him up. He was always jealous of them. Not the police, but the criminals. He didn’t want money, he just wanted freedom. Control. The Eclipse had the entire city in their grasp, and how was that fair? They get everything while they leave the rest of society to rot in the ashes of their burnt cigarettes. Malcolm's car struggled to start, the engine weakened from years of abuse. Didn’t seem like he'd be getting a new one any time soon, but who knows. Things change. It was fine. The old girl did the job anyways. He loved that car as much as one could love a car. It was a memory from a better time. The building to the left and right of the road reached out to the sky. High rise buildings, their foundations held up by the Vents, towered into the sky. It was almost too poetic to be true. The rich quite literally, standing on the poor to survive.

He arrived at the entrance to the facility. He got out of the car, and walked towards it, where two security guards immediately swarmed him.

“You know I’m not worth your time. Been here 12 years and you think now I’m gonna break?”

The security officer looked up at him.

“People can break at any time, Mr Chambers. We know that better than anybody.”

He patted him on the back as he waved him through to the next section. Leaving the city was no joke. The Eclipse minimised interstate travel as much as they could, but obviously it can’t be zero. He was one of the lucky ones who got eight hours of fresh air everyday. And by fresh air, he obviously meant the lithium mines they used to create the countless lithium ion batteries for their endless electronic needs. It was better than nothing at least. He would do anything to support Selene, and getting out of Europa every week wasn’t so bad.

“Malcolm, we’re waiting for you, Boss!” Mitchell called from below. He stood in the centre of one of the carts they used to move them to the mines. It was a nice feeling. At least for a moment he can be in control of something. Mitchell appreciated him more than most people ever would feel. The Eclipse would never allow authoritarian figures to get out of hand. Too much control led to too much ambition. Too much ambition led to outrage. The Eclipse regulated them closely. Not too closely — he doubted he would ever see an Eclipse in real life — but they were always watching.

E3C Guards stood watch outside of the ‘cattle cart’. The European Criminal Control Committee were responsible for all acts of lawmaking in Europa, including watching their trips to the mine. They weren’t Eclipse, but they were certainly associated. There were always rumours of communication and meetings between them and the Eclipse, but they could only always remain rumours. The Eclipse were careful about their public image. He boarded the cart, rammed in with the nearly fifty other men who would get the privilege of freedom. Despite being the administrator he didn’t get any privilege on travel arrangements. Even though it was early in the morning, the insides of the cart were incredibly dark, the sun barely peeking through the few air holes that they had carved out.

“You think we gon’ get lucky today, Boss” Mitchell said to him, the voice coming from just behind.

“I think we get lucky everyday we make it out.” Another voice said from in front of him. “These mines could collapse at any damn moment. I hope you all realise that.”

“We’re well aware, Zane, thanks for your input,” Malcolm said. Need to get that man a muffler, he thought. He’s bringing down morale. The darkness descended upon them as they slowly moved into the mine. He should’ve been used to it by now, but it somehow still manages to get him. The way the natural light slowly fades out, leaving just the small artificial orange lighting along the roof of the cart, and the row of blue lights running down the sides of the track. It felt like he was drowning. No accidents had happened in his years here, but you could see how easily one could.

The cart ground to a halt at the end of the tracks. The blue lights also stopped. Stepping out into the tunnel meant stepping into the darkness. The Eclipse didn’t think it was necessary to waste lighting equipment on them. They’ve had to learn to operate in the dark.

“Is everyone ready?” he said, preparing to dismount. They all grumbled affirmatively. How enthusiastic, he thought, although he could hardly blame them. Their job was far more difficult than his. As an administrator he mostly just had to order them around, keep them in line. The actual mining was done by them. The drill pieces were all removed from the storage section and taken out onto the flat ground at the entrance of the tunnel. The drills needed to be built before they could begin. Ever since he was a rookie building the drills was his favourite part. He got his time down to two minutes forty flat. He didn't know what it was about them, just the feeling of something mechanical, something so intricate yet so powerful. It excited him. He stood, watched and waited as the miners began to move down the tunnel, drill in tow. He hoped that they would have a successful adventure. Lithium veins were plentiful here, it genuinely seemed like they were never going to run out. He wasn’t sure how that was possible, but it was definitely the impression he was getting. Hadn’t run out in ten years, wouldn’t run out anytime soon.

The drilling quickly got underway, and was all going smoothly while he waited outside the tunnel. He had no reason to follow them in; he wasn’t working with the drills. The near pitch black darkness gave his mind no input, and it slowly began to wander. Surely he didn’t have gridiron. The symptoms were minor but there. Gridiron was rare but getting increasingly more common. He couldn’t have it. He removed his pistol from his pocket and felt for the release catch on the body. He needed to clean the insides. He slowly began to disassemble it blindly, feeling out each piece as he did. After a rag was swiftly pulled through the barrel, he was finished. His weapon needed cleaning every once in a while. He enjoyed the process greatly.

. . .

Suddenly, The drilling stopped. The miners came down the tunnel, their shadowy figures slowly approaching. The day must have already ended.

“Any luck?” he shouted down the tunnel

“None today sir,” Mitchell responded “Must’ve used it all last night on the slots.”

“Well then I guess we’ll get them next time.”

The miners quickly returned to the cart, eager to get back home. It was always a better experience back home. Anywhere was better than the mines. The trip up felt quicker than the trip down, the sense of dread always seemed to lengthen it.

“That your ride boss?” One of the workers shouted after him as they saw him entering his car.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“No offence but it looks like a shithouse on wheels sir. How’s it I've got one twice as good with half the salary?”

“I think you’ll find this one does the job just as well.” he swung open the door, the car creaking at the hinges, and started the grumbling engine. This car could do no wrong. It was perfect, at least in his heart.

He decided he would need a detour on the way home.