Fertilizer Detail UT17


 

YEAR: 52028

SHIP: Matriark II, Super-frigate exploration Class

LOCATION: Nojo Memorial Farms and Gardens

IN ATTENDANCE: Citizen Grebe, Citizen Marlow

 

Drone Surveillance log

     GREB: I sick of this.

     MARL: Sick of what?

     GREB: Shovelling shit. I travelled seventeen million light-years to shovel shit. What’s the point of defrosting me after thousands of years, if all they can offer me is shit detail.

     MARL: It won’t always be like this.

     GREB: We shouldn’t be doing this. This is work for androids. I don’t see the scientists out here with a shovel, or the troopers for that matter. We are the bottom of the shit pile and they have the audacity to call us citizens.

     MARL: You know the protocol on androids. They are only used in space. They can’t risk another AI dictatorship. If you’re that angry about it, why don’t you take it up with the prime captain?

     GREB: I did. Do you want to know what she said?

     MARL: What?

     GREB: She said that manual labour is part of the post-frost program. She said: it’s built into the system to build strength among the citizens. All that technology and we have to work like the slaves of the ancient times. Apparently the work is some sort of practical work out. I’m beginning to wish I had gone with Pines.

     MARL: Really. What would you have brought to the table out there with the grey-skins? Ha…He would have got you to shovel shit out there instead. At least we have the safety of Ortner’s wall.

     GREB: There’s nothing safe about it. You heard what happened when they attacked. Some hyper-intelligent invertebrate -worms for the likes of you and me- came up through the dust and wrapped around the trigger hands. Ortner’s wall was useless.

     MARL: I would rather be with the ship than out there. There could be worse things than grey-skins and intelligent attack worms.

     GREB: That doesn’t make me feel any better. I’m sick of this shit.

     DRONE: Citizen Grebe, report to Matriark security office.

     MARL: You’ve done it now.

     GREB: I’d rather be in cell for a couple of months than shovel shit with you.

UT17

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