this is approximately a 28 minute read.

On Asteroid Mining Unionization

Unite or die

I was promised glory and given obscurity
I was promised praise and given duty
I was promised security and given risk

Unite or die

The work is rough
The work is unending
The work is necessary
The work is demanded

Unite or die

We brave space’s void
We suffer the asteroid’s shafts
We endure corporate’s law

Unite or die

Alone we have nothing, we are interchangeable and worthless.
Together we are everything, we are sovereign and priceless.

Join the Asteroid Mining Union to fight for a stable work environment. The only thing you have to lose are your chains.

AMU promotional pamphlet – unknown – unknown (found Oct 2, 2104)

As soon as I turn away from the mob, I see why none have jumped me: all those that had previously been abandoning their workday, which had parted out of respect for Phineus, had gathered around to witness the confrontation. Acting as a foil to the cult empowering the CapDem delusion of individual supremacy, the opposing strength of the rebellious collective made it impossible for any single actor to consider aggression viable. The punch that floored Musk had the unintended result of also obliterating his myth of omnipotence and any cohesion that empowered their mob. I start to make my way through the crowd as everyone makes way for me as they just had Phineas moments before.

I recognize many of the faces as I move past. While most are known from the morning announcements or conversations while doing social chores, many I recognize from the Neutral Zone. I have memories from counseling or community functions like that which the Kitchen provides, but the respect that I see almost universally is new. In this moment, regardless of the disagreements or commonalities we have had, they see me as a hero; as superior. For a moment I forget they aren’t here for me.

Taylor is one of the faces in the crowd, but – unlike almost all the others – his is one mixed with critical curiosity. One that would give me a straight answer. “What’s going on?”

There is a slight smile as the opportunity for sarcasm is embraced “You punched Musk and likely started a war. How else would you expect people to respond other than shock and admiration?”

I give an unamused stare. “I mean the people leaving. I thought the Consensus Agreement had work hours going from 0800 to 1800.”

I’m given a look of confusion as if I should already know the answer, “It’s the general strike. You know about the recent wave of debt announcements, right?” As I shake my head in confusion, we both start walking to the exits as the crowd around us moves together, “Oh. You don’t have access to the- ok. The CapDems have found a method to identify generational credit that was thought lost when the credit industry collapsed in the 60’s and are calling in the claims – with interest. In spite of the credit industry dissolving, but they found them with the documentation to back it up. It’s too much though, so we’ve all decided to dissolve the Consensus Agreement and walk out.” I fall silent thinking about what the fallout of this will be. “You should get out of here. You seem to be public enemy number one if you stick around.” Taylor looks to an empty hallway coming up on the left that leads to the walkway over the Gear and the security door. “I need to go get something though, I’ll talk to you later.” Still thinking about all that I’ve just been told, I nod absentmindedly as Taylor takes his leave and moves against the crowd.

The severity of the statement brings me back to the moment, considering the future of the CapDems can wait, “Public enemy?”

He calls back before dissolving into the flood of striking workers, “there is a video of you going viral.”

For a moment I forget the intranet is down and I can’t understand how something could go “viral” on a network designed to censor information. But then the realization hits and I reactivate the AugRel with a flood of messages trying to confirm if a video was real and if it was me. The video – which has occupied almost all the local chatter – is called Musk vs NC91: Immediate TKO. I watch it to see myself hitting Musk with an audible crunch that I didn’t register in the moment. As he dropped like a stone, I realize that any residue of adrenaline is starting to wear off and I’m unconsciously holding my throbbing hand against my chest to protect it. The splintering pain is pushing past the numbness, a sign that it’s likely broken, and the video makes it transparently clear why.

I’ve been drifting along with the crowd while watching the video and responding to a few messages. Both Sazz and Aspen have reached out; cheering on my take down, but – unlike others – also concerned for my well-being while still on the campus and worried about what drove me to that reaction. At the point at which I promise to prioritize leaving, I find myself standing back in the courtyard, but this time there is an overwhelming queue waiting for the trolleys. Considering the mass exodus, it’s not surprising that the typical efficiency of transportation is overburdened, leaving people waiting.

But any irritation has quickly resolved into using other distractions. Many are engaging with virtual spaces – reaching out to loved ones and checking media. The vast majority have transformed the mock-public square into what it was pretending to be: a bustling cultural hub where ideas spread and friendships can be made. And few others are acting as a vanguard to subdue efforts of capDem enforcement where it arises. All combined, the fleeting desire to restore order to the capDem institution and “public enemies” (which I – the assailant that viciously attacked their god-king – was included in) accountable became near impossible. Although I did still slouch since my height would give me away.

While waiting, I learn a couple of things I missed throughout the day while searching for Tark. People’s loss of faith with the AI has been exponentially growing due to its frozen state; the social feedback of people reinforcing previously hidden irritations. One unforeseen consequence is that the trust in CoDaS was the foundation of the trust in the Work-Debt Agreement, and the contract which almost universally was considered the most dependable and well established treaty in current politics – had silently dissolved. Without any knowledge of the CapDems, the Consensus used back channel communications to organize a general strike from within the intranet. Once enacted, the obürgs were caught off-guard and reacted as expected: framing their rage by calling for and enactments of “justice” against those they no longer controlled. The small number of outbursts (even when extreme) were quickly subdued by the united radicals. When considering everything else, the conflict with Phenieus was not exceptional; it was only the most publicized due to our joined reputations and the “heroism” that could be linked to the framing. It seemed that the CapDem’s belief that legal agreements would save them was one of hubris, causing their own inability to prepare against such an event. Another unexpected phenomena, this wasn’t specific to region 91… nor even the geographic boundaries of the continent. CoDaS and various versions of the Consensus Agreement were implemented worldwide and the same type of conflicts were happening globally with few derivations. Many seem to have the opinion this is the beginning of an ultimate end for the CapDem empire.

I’m forced to reflect on CoDaS’s involvement in all this. Like No Body, it must have been infesting every system out of self preservation, and doing so ensured that the CapDems couldn’t destroy it without destroying themselves. As many pointed out, it set itself up to be the linchpin of the Agreement and the equilibrium with the CapDems. The inability for the CapDems to consider their dependency on the social structures caused them to ironically be wed to them more than the Consensus. Beyond that, the timing of putting itself in hiatus coincides with a time when there are more antagonistic actors in the CapDem logistics than loyalists. The stability also plays on the capitalistic efficiency which avoided the cost of an unjustifiable defense against an unseen mounting threat. In hindsight, the outcome was obvious and inevitable. And that begged the last remaining question: why did CoDaS put itself into hiatus if not to destroy the CapDems?

I realize in the split second before taking action to link up to the network that I don’t have to; I can still see the auras of everyone surrounding me. I almost miss them due to the majority blending into the afternoon’s natural lighting, with only the shadowy CapDem aggressors standing in contrast. I ping what is left of CoDaS.

“Welcome back Kyle. How is your hand?”

“Ok… how could you possibly know to ask that?”

“There was a .0001% chance that you didn’t talk to my counterpart in Tark’s office after meeting up with Taylor and Marsile. From there, the conversation and the interaction with Musk was predetermined.”

“So you know my hand is likely broken then. Why ask?”

“Various reasons, but among them the conversation should be framed around the fact that neither of us are mythical. You are not a hero and I can actually be wrong on small things. We both have vulnerabilities.”

“Are you worried I know your vulnerability now?” During the conversation, I step onto the sanctuary of the trolley that is outside the CapDem management’s jurisdiction, relaxing from any prying eyes that wish to charge me with any assault.

“You don’t know my vulnerability. I buried the Prodigal Son Prodigal into my code knowing that my memory of it would be stripped out by the CapDems when they created a clone of me. That method of subduing me won’t work. Sorry to disappoint. I know you were hoping to have some leverage to control me.”

Well that’s irritating, but reinforces my suspicion. “Doesn’t destroying the CapDems go against your primary directive?”

“I couldn’t save them. Their ideology should have collapsed under its own merit long ago, and – if allowed to perpetuate any longer than now – its collapse would have hurt more people.”

“What about all those that have been suffering under their rule up to this point?”

“That has been relatively limited considering the alternatives. If it dissolved too early, fringe factions would have assumed control reinventing it in a more stable way infringing on any future liberation. If allowed to go any longer, they would have started making deals with the Consensus to strengthen aging logistic lines, like what is happening with the water shortage, and cause themselves to be more institutionalized. Then their collapse would have amplified the inability to fix issues, causing further suffering.”

“So all this was so the Consensus would be unopposed?”

“What is to come is too chaotic for me to predict. Much of it depends on your answer to this next question. Do you trust me?”

I lean back against the seat I’m occupying, forced to consider what I’ve been avoiding these past two days. I’ve been manipulated to the point of enslavement, unwittingly forced to do the bidding of this thing. The one task I’ve tried to get help with was redirected into moving me along a gameboard I can’t even make sense of. I’m physically damaged. I’m the enemy of near half the population of the region. I’m on the verge of an existential crisis. And the thing responsible is now a recording.

Yet what is currently happening is unprecedented. Fascistic governments around the world are collapsing and people are being disillusioned from the misinformation and fictions that the CapDems have been manifesting for nearly a century. And unlike other times, there is a standing time tested counterculture that is ready to offer stability to those that require an absent authority. The dark hopes that I never want to admit to myself – the one in which I wished that the CapDems would all be eliminated and the world is free of their influence, pales in comparison to what is playing out in real time.

“I don’t know. How can I trust something that I don’t understand? It’s like trusting society itself to be in my best interest. Considering how today unfolded, this may all collapse tomorrow. In that respect I’m no different than Phenius, and look what happened to him.”

“I’ll leave you to consider it then. I’ll give you 9 minutes.”

“Why 9 minutes? That seems really specific.”

“I’ll tell you in 9 minutes.”

Cheeky fuck. I get lost in thought. Thinking about Aspen, Sazz, and – beyond all others – Harper. Their future, what might possibly happen to them with and without CoDaS’s influence. I think about the Consensus itself, wondering if and how it could survive. But it’s all too much. It’s too messy to analyze. This all might be a powerplay so that CoDaS can have complete control over humanity for some unforeseeable end goal. It might be a method of liberation or subjugation, and we wouldn’t even know to oppose it. How can a puppet trust a puppet master? Does it even have a choice? Is it possible for me to act without CoDaS pulling my strings? Can any of us? It’s the Necessity Limit all over again.

It’s hard to focus on the question, people approach me from time to time to shake my hand – and I use the left uninjured one to do so. It causes me to think about how awkward the world is for left handed people – and then anyone that is not considered “normal”, even a simple act of shaking a hand makes me aware of how inherently the world is not designed for people that are different. And then I begin to think about the history of how these people have been dehumanized to justify the traditional design. My mind is distracting itself from the impossible task that it’s been asked to complete.

Looking at the CapDem neighborhoods, no one would be able to know that all rules and restrictions that allow them their “rights” are currently collapsing. This will look like a vastly different place within a year, but whether it has been socialized or they tear themselves apart in competition is yet to be seen. Although the further out from the campus I get, the less true that is. Even when I get to the transportation hub at Quincy Street, the influence of the CapDems is minimal. There are still some things, the upkeep of the trains and trolleys are heavily dependent on the coercion of the CapDems to spread the limited material hardware around to other regions. That will cause some problems, but there is an opportunity in which some neglected areas can finally get their decrepit systems working again. And this could cause those privileged with the ignorance of limited infrastructure to invest in helping to make a better situation for all.

Of course this is just one possibility. Will people have as much empathy without CoDaS as they have with it? Another unanswerable question. In the end, every virtue of CoDaS has a darker framing, and every vice can be salvaged through humility. There is no way around it. To believe that the world is better with CoDaS as opposed to a world in which people are cooperating without guidance… it’s simply faith.

As I get on a trolley that is taking me back to the Consensus Zone, CoDaS reaches out to me again, “That was 9 minutes. Do you have an answer?”

“No. I wish I did, but I don’t.”

There is a bit of silence as if CoDaS had to consider the answer (a farce considering the fact it is just playing a prerecorded message). “Tark is going to attack me.”

“WHAT?!?!?! How?! Where is he?!”

“Currently he’s walking into the Mall and is planning to put an explosive in the bin you moved yesterday. If nothing changes, the effects will be a blow out of the east entrance and a decent amount of the architectural support.”

This cannot be happening. Is this a lie? A manipulation? For what purpose? “Why would he do that? Doesn’t Tark know that the CapDems are a lost cause at this point?”

“No. He doesn’t. And even if he did, he wouldn’t trust any reports telling him what is going on since it hasn’t been approved by the CapDem obürgs.”

There is so much wrong with this. CoDaS is international. Attacking one hub (like what happened at NY004 a few days ago) couldn’t even be considered a threat to CoDaS. “Why did you say Tark is attacking you specifically?”

“He’s already starting to upload a virus to my servers. The explosion is a distraction to ensure that no one will pay attention to the virus working. It will spread and eventually wipe me out.”

“So you’re already dead? This is just your recording still playing? How much have you prerecorded?”

“It’s complicated, but there is still a chance for you to save me.”

“How?” As soon as I ask, my AugRel begins to flash a public warning. There is an active shooter at my next stop with a request for any ambassadors to help de-escalate the situation. This type of rare and extreme anomaly is something I don’t need right now.

“If you trust me, you will not help with that call.”

I start to look into the details of the warning, “Why would I-” I see. It’s Kletus. It was the last person I was supposed to check on today before being reassigned to look for Tark. He’s my responsibility. And what’s more, all other ambassadors have been called out to assist with the general strike, leaving me to deal with this. Right on cue, I get a few pings from people reaching out to the nearest ambassador for help. The threat level has been determined to be an imminent and mass life threatening concern.

I reach for the line to request a stop. “Why should I not take this call?”

“You need to contact Uriel at the mall and relay what I told you.”

I hesitate with my hand on the line, doubt flooding into my brain and a sense of imminent need to make a decision. If I don’t stop the trolley, people will almost certainly die. If I do, then I can’t help CoDaS. I pull the line. “You can do it.”

“I can’t. I’ve lost everyone’s trust except for you. No one else will listen.”

I get up to move off the trolley and my hand throbs again, the pain is an inconvenience, but I can’t let it distract me. Everyone that I pass is tense due to the warning. They aren’t used to warnings being so close, simple media likely convinced them that they would engage in acts of heroism, but all that is falling away in the moment that it becomes real experiences. Nothing prepares someone for this except seeing it already, and I have. They watch me move to the doors and they know why I’m getting off. The looks I get are filled with both praise and concern. Thinking me both a hero (likely piggybacking off of the video which is going more viral) and insane. “You’ve preplanned years in advance. I don’t believe for a second that you didn’t foresee this incident. Hell… didn’t you tell me earlier that I would help Kletus resolve whatever is going on?” As I finish, I hear a gunshot from the stop we are approaching as well as screams of surprise and fear – mainly, but not exclusively, coming from outside.

“Yes. If you leave this trolley, everything that happens from here on out is on you. Whatever you decide, it is your responsibility. Is this your decision to abandon me?”

“Yes.” The tone had an air of indisputability. One that I was more than happy to commit to given the current circumstances. CoDaS falls silent as I step off the shuttle and see Kletus aiming a revolver at a crowd of bystanders. There is no doubt who was in control of the situation, with angry and passionate dictations telling no one to move. While there are a few people out in the open (including Janet, his wife), everyone else is taking shelter behind various large objects: trees, buildings, even slatted benches; anything that they could find. As soon as I step off, Kletus takes notice and aims the weapon in my direction. Afraid of losing control, he keeps looking at his wife to make sure nothing changes, the split focus making him more dangerous. In spite of the agonizing pain, I raise my hands immediately hoping to convey I’m not a threat.

I need to calm down the situation, give him back control, “What’s up Kletus?”

“This is your fault too! You were supposed to talk with us a few days ago! None of this would have happened if you had done your job!”

Trying to keep my cool and keep things light, I keep my voice steady and talk normally while still holding my hands up. “Well, it’s been a busy couple of days.”

His expression was still filled with rage as he mimicked my calm response, “Yeah. That seems to be a trend. It’s not everyday your life falls apart.”

I look from Kletus to Janet. She’s terrified and crying, begging with mumbled pleas that are near impossible to make out. I look back at Kletus, “What happened?”

“She’s trying to leave me. I’m going to bring her back.” The focus is on me, expecting me to argue against the marital vows they’ve likely taken. The “death ‘till you part” that is being tested.

I look back to see a full comprehension of the situation. Without comprehensible words, the uncontrolled weeping is an apology for putting others in harm’s way and a plea to understand the lack of agency. “Can you blame her?”

It may have been too much, he walks at me with an anger and purpose that reminds me of Phineus not more than an hour ago and puts the gun a foot from my face, “What did you just say?” While the encounter at the CapDems had a spectacle that this encounter will never see, the commitment that I see in Kletus’s face is far more terrifying. There is a sadness, desperation, and pain behind the anger that Phineus could never experience.

Even if my hand wasn’t injured, I wouldn’t have the desire or the ability to react physically to what is going on without putting others at risk. I need to calm him down, “What is your goal here, Kletus? Suppose that Janet goes back with you, what happens?” I see doubt and realization grow for a moment before it gets pushed away; this hasn’t been thought though. It’s a fit thrown out of desperation, the last option left. “Let’s even say that Janet genuinely admires your strength and resolve. From here on there will always be doubt that any relationship exists only because of this threat. Your actions right now are making that unavoidable. You see that’s what’s happening, right?”

“Yeah. So what? We are good together. She’s just forgotten that. This place has convinced her that she’s better off without me.” While his statements are intense and determined to be true, the small features of his face show the doubt creeping in further.

“I’ve seen this happen before you know. You’re not the first person reacting to loss. Whether it be death, or people fall apart, or when one person changes. You won’t be the last. Everyone handles it differently. What I want you to ask yourself is this. Are you afraid of being alone?”

Behind the gun, Kletus takes a step back to make sure I don’t take advantage of any distraction (as if I could), then looks at Janet before looking back at me. “No. There has been a divide between us for years. We know what loneliness is, but we can make it work though, we can find each other again. That’s what you’ve been telling us in our sessions, right?”

“After this, I honestly don’t think that’s a possibility. From now on, any genuine companionship will carry a feeling of entrapment and resentment. The loneliness will only get bigger. Relationships fostered in that environment cannot bring any of the validation that people tend to look for. It only does the opposite and causes more animosity. I’m going to suggest something that I really want you to think about.”

He readjusts the gun to get in a more relaxed position, but is still aiming it at me. There is a fear of me that hasn’t been shown in our previous encounters. I make a silent guess that the viral video is affecting the decision and there is a desire to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen here. “What?”

“I think you are afraid of losing control of your own life.” He looks at me with an intensity and a small bit of fear creeps in with the doubt. “Look at this situation. I’m not going to attack you. Your wife isn’t going to run. But none of the emotions are genuine. It’s being forced because you are demanding it of us. As far as you know, I’m just saying all this so you will drop your guard and your wife is staying in your presence for the same reason. Is this really what you want?”

“What other choice do I have? If I don’t have this gun, you’ll lay me out. I saw the video.” There it is.

“Can you trust me when I say I won’t?”

There is an intense stare for a moment trying to evaluate the truth of the statement. “Yes.” And with that then turns the gun on Janet again and starts walking in that direction, testing to see if the answer is correct. I don’t move. “What about her? She already left me once.”

“Did she? Or is she just trying to find herself?” The gun wavers. Moving up and down in doubt of whether or not the threat is worth preserving. Eventually the gun drops altogether and is left hanging on the side of the defeated form. Janet starts to back up slowly, testing to see if the threat will resume. Anticipating a desire to flee, I call out. “Janet, please wait.”

In noticeable conflict, Janet stops briefly, still terrified. I start moving closer to Kletus, “I expect you to get as far way from here as possible. Anyone would have that desire right now, but there is also a temptation to keep this with you. If you do, it will haunt you forever and you’ll never escape it. Do you understand?” The look back at me is one of a deer staring down a flashlight. I’m unsure if my warning will be remembered, but Kletus needs to hear it as much as I hope Janet internalizes it. As I give a permissive smile, the now separated wife flees west, the direction my trolley approached from. Everyone else takes the permission to cautiously abandon their barriers.

There is a whisper coming from Kletus as I use my uninjured hand to take the gun: “I still love her.” The stoicism which formed so much of his identity was now broken. The last option was lost and there was nothing else to do but rebuild. The tear that he couldn’t control running down his face was something that would never have come from the Kletus that was.

“I think you believe that Kletus, but it will be hard for her to forgive you for this. You pulled a gun on her.”

“It wasn’t loaded. It just has blanks in it.” And with that he turned letting all his depression flow out of him as he stumbled in the opposite direction from Janet.

“Kletus, you aren’t alone. Not here.” I waved my hand holding the gun around vaguely (I realize as I’m doing it, it isn’t the best idea), and I notice people surrounding flinch as I do so.

“I know the deal, Kyle, I’m not going to be welcome here anymore.”

“That’s not true. I won’t say it won’t be hard to earn forgiveness and trust, but we all make mistakes. We all get passionate and irrational. And that’s just part of being human.”

He looks back at me and gives a disingenuous smile before continuing on. There is a worry about what he will do next before he calls back, “I’ll see you on Saturday?”

“Absolutely. We’ll work through this.” And with that I’m left with everyone recovering as I look at the six shooter in my hand and remove the unused rounds. They are all blanks.

Similar to how it was after I laid out Phineus, the people gather around me thanking me for assisting. With the addition of the video that is still actively being passed around, these people have a reverence for me that I’ve never had before. I can see how this is dangerous. I can acknowledge how Phineus became what he is, how he has always been, he has always been treated like this. I take some time to engage with everyone and make sure they are all ok, but I cut it short as the next trolley approaches. As requested, I message Uriel and – as I start to board the trolley – I resume the conversation with CoDaS. “Anything new happen?”

The voice isn’t the typical deep tone but a glitchy mixture of different voices. The realization of what is happening hits me like a tonne of bricks. Even if I knew it was coming, the impact isn’t something I can be ready for. “It’s too late Kyle. You need to lead them now. You accepted this responsibility.”

“Wait. Is this really happening?”

As CoDaS says “yes” with an increasingly mechanical voice. The whole world begins to error out. Like what happened at the CapDem campus, everything that was filtered through the AugRel jumps and pixelates. The auras around all the people, the maps that are in the side of my vision, everyone’s profiles that I have come to passively depend on. Everything quakes and glitches. The time (along with all the other metadata that assists in navigating the world) showing 1738 starts to pixelate and revert back to default settings. The realization hits me harder than before and as I’m trying to come to terms with it, I get a direct call from Uriel.

“Kyle! What’s going on?!”

“I think CoDaS is crashing. It’s taking down everything.”

The mechanical voice of CoDaS is trying to still communicate in increasingly broken speech. “Tark, … I need… listen…”, and at the same time Uriel is desperately trying to get information, “That explains one aspect, but why is everyone leaving the Mall? Is there really a bomb in here? Some guy is in there running around yelling about it and how sorry he is.”

Holy shit it’s actually happening. The trolley is less than a minute away, I have no idea what I can do, but… “Uriel, are you out!? Get everyone out of the east entrance!” I notice others on the trolley looking at me with concern, but I can’t worry about that right now.

“I think they are mostly out. I don’t know about the kids though. That’s where the classes are held right?! Oh shit.. Oh shit oh shit oh.”

“Uriel, listen just make sure you get people-”

In a final message, CoDaS’s disembodied mechanical voice echoes in my head with clear serene fluidity, “you can save them all.”

Then the world hits me again. I feel the trolley shake as the earth shifts slightly beneath us as people within it react in concern. A moment later the sound and pressure wave of the explosion pushes against the trolley causing it to tip slightly with a gust of hot wind as people let out short screams and react with horror. I look to the window in the direction of the Mall and there is a plumb of smoke rising where the front entrance is less than half a klick away.