A City in Chains
QUINCY NIEHUES
Rex started her shift with the taste of iron in her mouth. A coughing fit beforehand had left her bloody and wretched. But anything short of death itself was no excuse to miss work.
She joined the overwhelming queue of other workers to scan her keycard and officially begin her shift. It was gruelling work: twelve hour shifts everyday until she proved too weak to be of service. Even now she could hardly breathe on a good day, despite the gas mask they provided her, and she was still expected to work.
She entered into the factory to an engulfing din of machinery. The place was filled with an array of steel converters and furnaces with smog swelling out from them like perverse clouds. Various guards patrolled the floor, wearing crisp white uniforms with rifles slung over their backs. They weren’t from the surface like Rex and the other workers. No, they were born in the city in the sky and brought down to maintain production. Rex couldn’t help but resent their mere presence, as if she couldn’t be trusted to do her job.
Like clockwork, she collected her tool, a metal bar hooked on one end, and set out to one of the furnaces. Her role was to spend hours on end hunched over in the heat, puddling iron. Groups of two worked together at each furnace to produce the metal.
For what purpose? She didn’t know the specifics, only that it went to the city in the sky, so that its people could maintain their lifestyles of indulgence while those responsible for it suffered below.
She had just made it to her station when she heard her name called out. She turned to see Marina striding towards her, her tall figure encased in their uniform of the gas mask and a black canvas jumpsuit, faded after years of use.
‘Hullo Rex!’ She had to practically shout to be heard over all the machinery.
Rex raised a hand in response and felt her heart cleave in two at the sight of her. Marina was undoubtedly her greatest friend, one of her only friends if she was honest. Yet it seemed that she was determined to kill herself. She couldn’t see her face, only the dull brown of her mask, but all the same could easily picture her smile, all chipped teeth and crinkled eyes.
Marina didn’t waste time on any further pleasantries. ‘It’s happening tomorrow. We storm this factory and kill the guards.’
For years Marina had raged about their position. It was cruel and unfair and denied them their personhood. Rex agreed. But when her talk had turned to revolt, she certainly differed. She didn’t see the point in it. The city up above was much more well-equipped than a group of incapacitated workers who had never so much as held a gun. Sure it was a pretty dream but that’s all it was. It seemed she still couldn’t convince Marina of that.
She didn’t wait for a response, pointing upwards. ‘They depend on our labour, if we withhold it they’ll be forced to come to an understanding.’
Rex wasn’t convinced. ‘And if they simply kill us all?’
‘They can’t. Who’ll do the work instead?’ Marina demanded.
She scoffed. ‘Oh I don’t know, maybe the other half of the population who have no clue about this plan.’
‘No, the majority will fight with us regardless, they’ll want their freedom.’
‘And if you fail? Or have you only planned for success?’
Marina was unperturbed. ‘If we fail, I’ll gladly martyr myself. Others after us will surely be inspired to take up the cause.’
‘Look,’ she spoke intently, ‘what do you even need me for? I’d have a coughing fit not ten minutes in and get shot?’
‘We’re making a move tomorrow. I have people and a united front. We’re having our final meeting after work then at that run-down warehouse down south. I just want you there as my friend.’
She couldn’t help but snap. ‘Just because you want to martyr yourself, doesn’t mean that I do.’
Marina’s face softened. ‘I don’t want to do this without you.’
‘I suppose you’ll just have to manage,’ she spoke with finality.
With their conversation replaced by the heavy rumble of the workload and steadily growing heat of the furnace, the hours trudged by with no respite. Her muscles ached with exertion and she longed for even a minute to sit down. Yet she continued her work.
It felt like an eternity had passed while she bent over and prodded at some half-melted iron. The heat engulfed her as always, a choking sensation she could never quite dislodge, but this time she felt as though her strength had been stolen from her. So much so that she barely noticed the bar slipping from her hand as she collapsed to the floor.
Rex awoke to a blinding whiteness utterly foreign to her. It was as though she was awakening into a dream for once. Soon enough though, this sensation faded as she properly woke up. The white solidified into a ceiling and she felt the pillowy surface of a bed beneath her, far softer than what she was used to. She turned her head to be greeted by a woman. Her skin was clear and healthy, her clothes clean and impeccably pressed. It was clear to Rex that she was from the city in the sky.
‘Rex?’ She spoke clearly and measuredly.
‘Yes,’ her voice by contrast was a rough rasp, as it had been for years.
‘You collapsed during your shift and were sent to me when you couldn’t be woken. You have advanced stage lung cancer.’ She paused briefly, before continuing with a grave air. ‘I’m afraid to report that you’re dying.’
A beat passed. Then two. ‘Oh.’
‘You have just less than two months to live. Procedure is that you’re given two weeks off before you pass. You will continue to work your shifts until the sixteenth of next month before receiving time to be at peace at your home.’
She had a rather sanitary way of speaking, Rex could only think vaguely. Forced to work herself to an early death and have less than a month of half-baked freedom before letting herself rot away in pain. But according to her, she would be passing in peace.
She made her way outside and trudged along the empty street, staring listlessly at the grime-ridden environment before her. Billowing stretched across the sky and enveloped the whole world like a veil.
Less than a century ago, gauzy clouds tumbled across the sky for all to see. Now they were yet another belonging of the city up above, while those on the surface were forced to make do with toxic fumes instead. Just the thought of it fuelled a fury within her.
When she made it home to her cramped building, she sat and stewed, the silence only broken by her mother’s hacking coughs from the bedroom. The hours passed and still she sat there. All she could think about was that in two months she’d be dead and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.
The anger burnt unfamiliarly in her body and she fought the urge to start screaming. Was this what Marina always felt like? The thought of her gave Rex pause. If she was going to die, maybe she could join Marina in her revolt.
She stood for the first time in hours and passed tirelessly through the room like a caged animal as she turned the idea over in her head. She still doubted it would succeed, the odds were stacked too much against them. But it would mean the world for Marina.
She’d be dead regardless of what happened, and the slim chance of success would give freedom to her people. Besides, a shot in the head would be far less painless than weeks of drawn out dying. More quick too. She started to find herself far more content with the idea of martyrdom than before.
As the dawn broke alongside her, she made her way to the factory with a newfound intensity burning within. As she began her shift, her face was impassive, her movements sluggish, but her mind was aflame.
With a goal in mind for once, the hours passed like centuries. Her body was exhausted as usual, not helped in the least from her lack of sleep, but she was chiefly concerned with talking to Marina. As such, the bell announcing the end of her shift arrived as a relief. It was shrill and deafening, but relieving nonetheless.
She hurried out as fast as her body allowed her to, Marina following as close as a second shadow.
Rex tugged her into a nearby alley and practically shoved her against a wall. ‘I need to talk to you.’
Marina ripped her mask off, grinning triumphantly, and Rex knew she had only half-guessed what she was going to say. Better to rip off the plaster.
‘I’m dying.’
Her face froze, smile sitting so oddly against her now shining eyes. ‘What? How long?’
‘Two months, if that.’
Marina cursed lowly, then pulled her into a crushing embrace, almost painful but deeply comforting. ‘God, I’m sorry.’
Rex stood there for a moment, wishing it could last an eternity, but pulled away to speak. ‘I took some time to think. And if I’m going to die soon, I want to give you my death. I’ll join your revolt.’
Marina stared a little, mouth agape, before shaking her head ruefully. ‘Well I’m grateful, considering the circumstances. Come on then, let’s head to the warehouse.’
They arrived to find a huge throng of workers within the dimly-lit warehouse. Rex had expected a twenty-odd group, not nearly a hundred.
Marina moved with ease through the crowd, earning cheers with every step. She was clearly in her element and now it was Rex who followed in her shadow. She hopped onto an upturned crate in the middle and addressed the room.
‘Everyone, now’s the time to revolt! We will head to the factory tonight and make our strike!’
She was met with rapturous applause, the din practically shaking the ground beneath them. Rex dozed off a little as she spoke some more of specifics and planning. And with that, they began filing out of the building.
As the group gradually made their way from the warehouse to the factory, Rex couldn’t help but notice how strange the night looked. There were no stars in the sky, only ever-present smog amidst the heavy darkness.
Rex stood at the front of the group with Marina and watched as the door was kicked open with a thunderous crash and they all spilled through. It was obvious what Marina had said about needing people when Rex watched as several workers were gunned down immediately.
Others after them began to wrestle the guard for his firearm and they all fell to the ground in the scuffle. As did the gun in question, which Marina stole with nimble fingers before she hurled the two of them behind a conveyor belt.
Similar tackles for weaponry were being attempted. Meanwhile the current shift workers were in various states of action themselves. Marina was right that most would help the cause, but many simply fled the scene entirely.
Marina seemed to have figured out how to work the gun and peered through the scope at a guard at the far end of the room. She was still for a moment before pulling the trigger. In an instant, blood burst from the man’s head in a sickening array. This act of violence liberated the others into committing their own. As they gained more guns, more guards were shot and other workers simply bludgeoned their heads in with whatever equipment heavy enough to do the job.
Amidst the ever growing violence, alarms began to blare, distinctly different from those announcing the shift change, and blast doors were opening. Rex doubted this was a good sign.
She was swiftly proven right with the arrival of more guards. These ones were armoured though and it was clear they weren’t actually guards, but soldiers. Bullets flew, killing tens of workers in as many seconds. Rex thought that those who had fled were likely the smartest of them all. She wanted to pull Marina away to flee, but she was not beside her anymore. She had gained ground and was several metres ahead of her.
Rex could only watch in horror as yet again she raised her gun only to get shot herself before she could pull the trigger. Vaguely, Rex was aware that she was screaming, but it felt rather like it was happening outside of her body. She collapsed for a beat before crawling over, body close to the ground and breath desperate and shaky.
She had almost reached Marina’s body when she felt the first bullet tear through her shoulder. Pain laced through her body and tears sprung from her eyes. She didn’t stop though, couldn’t stop and as the second bullet pierced her head, she had just managed to grasp Marina’s hand with her own.
Quincy Niehues is based in the Central Coast and currently studying a Bachelor of Arts in English and Creative Writing at Macquarie University. During this time he has written short stories commonly exploring familial relationships in sci-fi and fantasy. He aspires to write a novel centred around the theme and genres.
