Tunnel Rat

The beeping of a priority message broke through to Milo in his game, waking him up. He had set up an additional system to make sure he was alerted to anything important happening in the real world. Broken pipes, exploding electrical transformers, and overflowing sewage lines didn't send a message. That was reserved for important things like shipments of cheese, intruders in sensitive areas, and messages from Wally or Kate. The alert was sent through his tail, and utilized an option in the game to alert players that something was wrong with their pod.

Like all the other safety features in his pod, this one had been turned off. After being trapped in the game for several days, he had gone through the programming in the pod line by line, resetting safety features he wanted to keep, and removing any system that sent automatic updates on medical statistics or other data. All of those systems now worked with his own systems, and nothing else.

In the game, the alert woke him up. He opened an eye halfway, saw that he had been asleep in the library, comfortable in the overstuffed chair with a blanket over him. He left himself sleeping in the chair and logged out of the game.

The alarm was about a message from Butch. "Yo! Ghost! Check your damn messages on your door sometimes. I had to find the silly code you gave me to send you an email. Big day coming up, and the guys want to get with you to fix-up some trade stuff and deliver a few things you've been looking for. Show up for lunch sometime. Mom misses you (and has something she needs to talk to you about.)"

Milo got out of his pod, set the cleaning and diagnostics programs running. He took no chances with the pod now, keeping it well repaired and testing it for anything out of the ordinary on a regular basis. There were people...well, AI who behaved like people... who knew roughly where he was. He had to be more careful.

That thought had him look in on another project.

At the start of construction for the habitat, a huge hole had been carved down into the bedrock. The base of the habitat was almost a thousand feet below the surface and support pylons went another hundred feet beyond that. To dig such a massive hole, four Carson X-19 Excavators had been employed. The huge earth moving machines drilled into the earth, pushed along by tracks, with dirt and debris pulled away by a huge tube that extended out behind the machine. The displaced earth and rock had been used along the coast to build sea walls and artificial beaches. Three of the X-19's had been moved to other projects when the foundations for the habitat had been dug, and one was left in the bowls of the habitat in case of some future project or expansion. Milo happened have such a project in mind.

He had reprogrammed the driller and done the needed repairs on it. He felt it was a shame he couldn't bring some of the Deep Rock Engineers to help. They would have had a great time modifying the device. (And probably would have 'borrowed' it at some point.) It looked curiously like the vehicle they had used against the World Boss, only several times bigger.

Milo wanted someplace much safer than his current home, in case he had to move. Someplace no one knew existed. He'd set the X-19 to begin in the corner of the lowest level of section E, and had it bore down two hundred feet. Then he planned to remove a large area of rock and build a sizable area to claim as his new home. In some ways he was making his own little Hollow. It was going to make it more difficult to deal with problems in section E, but dealing with problems was a way to minimize his chance of being discovered. If someone found him and forced him to move, then someone else would have to worry about fixing section E in the future.

It was a slow process. He had to carefully dispose of the removed material. Luckily, several of the sections had unfinished lower levels where the debris would never be noticed. He could have more easily built his new home in of those abandoned areas, but he wanted a spot where nothing was expected to be, and where no one would think to go looking.

Everything looked good so far. The access tunnel was dug down to the 1200 foot level, a full 200 feet below the base of the habitat. He did an inspection by camera and set the X-19's programs to begin working on clearing out a large area. It would take months of slow work, but Milo was fine with that as long as it resulted in a larger, and completely hidden, home.

That was one project seen to. His next was checking on the assembly units working with the graphene components he had been acquiring little by little. The assembly units had been set up and programmed with his designs two weeks ago, and the two initial projects started. It took very little time to fit each minute component into the framework, but that was multiplied by millions of pieces to complete each project. He was happy to see that one of the pieces was done and ready for testing, with the second only a little behind it.

He pulled the jet black glove out of the assembler and checked it for flaws under a scanner. Nothing seemed wrong with a preliminary scan. The next step was testing. Power was supplied and he plugged the glove into his system, and placed it on a hand shaped apparatus he had made just for testing this glove. The frame was flexible, and would allow movement seen normally in a hand. Over the next twenty minutes he tested combinations of motion to make sure the microscopic motors and platers were working together. Milo had no desire to put a hand into an untested device. He'd rather break a rubber and wire frame than his own bones. He was already missing pieces, he didn't want to lose more. When nothing went wrong, he decided to do a full test.

Power for the glove came from a storage battery which he could wear on his back. It was roughly one square foot in area and two inches thick. Power cables ran to the glove down his arm, and the control cable connected to his middle socket. He carefully slid in his hand, and moved one finger. The bio-feedback circuits felt the push and made the glove move in a similar fashion, only with much greater strength. He ran through the same set of motions he had made the glove do before, and spotted no major errors.

The glove was soft and thin, covering all of his hand except for the last joint of his fingers. If you didn't look to closely, they looked like faux leather gloves. Even a close inspection would only make a person believe they were of a more expensive material. Which they were. Several million times more expensive.

He sent a command to the glove and the graphite panels moved to cover the fingertips. Ridges ran along the back of the fingers ending in one-inch claws. He could feel the slight buzz as the micro-motors came to life and the material became much harder. Moving to a wall panel with nothing behind it, he used a claw to scratch, accidentally punching through the metal panel and putting a three inch tear in the material.

The question of how sharp the graphene claws were had been partially answered. He'd do further testing later. Right now, he needed some practice with them, and for that he needed to wear them for a few hours. The other glove was just coming off the assembly. After running it through the same tests as the first glove, he put on the harness that held the battery pack, and connected both gloves to power, and to his middle socket. With his standard black hoody and long leather jacket, you wouldn't know he was wearing them.

He decided that he'd wear them down to see Butch and his family. He needed to get comfortable wearing them, and the chaos of Butch's family was a good testing ground. The gloves would most likely handle the chaos better than Milo could.

A half hour later he was stepping out of 'his' front door and pounding on Butch's door. Butch's mother answered, holding a baby. Milo had long ago lost track of how many brothers and sisters Butch had. His mother often babysat for other families to earn favors, so the count was always confusing. Butch's dad was also named Butch. Milo had never heard anyone call his mother anything other than Mom or Mama. Even after a year, he didn't know her name.

"Oh, look at you! A proper ghost you make in all that black and with those sunglasses on. Come inside, I'll turn down the lights. Butch told me your eyes are sensitive. Grab a seat anywhere. I need to talk to you."

Milo did so. Butch's mother moved around the small apartment for a moment and then brought him over a stack of paperwork. "I know your smart. Probably a lot smarter than you let on. And you don't trust anyone. That makes you the best person I know to look that over. Tell me if my sons and husband signing this will be a mistake."

Milo took the paper and started flipping through it, while at the same time making a note not to underestimate Mama. She'd noticed things Butch and the gang hadn't, and her assessment of him was correct. Since she already knew about him, he didn't bother to hide his reading speed, and started working his way through several dozen pages of the contract. If Mama Butch knew he was smart and needed a favor, then he could ask for a favor back. "No one hears how smart I am. Promise?"

She nodded. "Promised. We help each other. No one talks." That was a rule Milo liked.

The papers were work contracts. Five year contracts working for a corporation that would put them in pods and use them in the Genesis game. Each person spent 144 hours in the pod and then 24 hours out. They got weekly pay of 50% of their salary, and then a big chunk at the end of 5 years, and a penalty if they didn't finish. There were pages and pages of legalese and clauses that he was sure hid ways the corporation could enforce the contract, limit their liability, or skip the final payment. That was how corporations worked. And while anyone was free to sign or not sign such contracts, they often had no choice, and barely understood them. Milo was happy to help them change the rules.

Milo went through the 37 page contracts, and then started making changes. "No one has signed these yet?"

Mama shook her head. "Nope. My husband is a group leader, and they want him and the other's on board first. Once the two dozen group leaders are working for the corporation they get two weeks training and then they get everyone else to sign up. They recruit from their territory in the habitat, and there's a bonus for how many people they bring in. Is it a fair deal?"

Milo shook his head. "It's a deal. I'm not so sure it's a fair deal." He pulled a data-pad from his sack, and plugged it into his glasses. His dark glasses were already connected to one of his plugs and could act as a data screen if needed. He got to work. He needed to look up applicable labor laws, and then make some changes. Butch and his dad came in while Milo was working. He didn't look up and Mama moved them to another room. The smallest children were playing a game that involved Milo playing the part of a sleeping monster. He didn't notice them either.

Two hours later he finished, and pulled out a storage chip from his data-pad. He saw Mama and the rest of the family waiting for him to finish. "I'm done. I changed things. This is a better deal. It protects you if you become sick or hurt, and closes off a lot of loopholes. I also put in some flexibility to the schedules in case of emergencies, and added that there needs to be oversight and arbitration panels."

"I also made a sheet of suggestions that I think the company could use to stream line some parts of their operation. An efficient HR department can do things better and for less cost if set up correctly. If this is a profitable venture, they could have half the section working for them."

Mama looked at the rest of the family. "And this boy doesn't need hassles. So no mentioning who helped you re-work all of that paper. Keep it simple. You have a lawyer helping out, but doesn't want to be involved. They can fill in the details themselves."

Butch grabbed Milo. "Good, then you're done with your homework? The rest of the guys are waiting. We've got food too." He looked at Milo's gloves. "Gnarly! You got some of those new gaming gloves? I read where those help with wrist and palm fatigue. Figures you'd be ahead of the curve on getting a pair of those." Milo just nodded. Gaming gloves? Something else he needed to look up.

In an office full of expensive oak and leather furniture, a meeting was taking place. One man was pouring over a modified contract that had been handed him to review. A second was relaxing with a cup of coffee. The third man, boss of the other two, was ranting and pacing.

"Can you explain to me where a bunch of half-illiterate Hab residents found a lawyer to rework this contract? And what lawyer works that way?" John Sabbatino had glanced through the new contract, while his lawyer, Jacob Atkinson, was looking at each individual change and making copious notes.

Erik was drinking his second cup of coffee, and enjoying the morning. Nothing had blown up or collapsed today. That was a good day on this project. He took John's question and started ticking off the possibilities on his fingers. "The type of lawyer who lurks about and waits for us to screw up so that they can move in with a class action law suit representing 100,000 employees, having proof we were warned of problems. One who has used people in the Habs for a job before, and considers them a resource. The type of lawyer that warns you about something, just so you don't cross them. They did the work on the contract, and sent it back unsigned, to see what we would do."

John was pacing. "I don't like it."

Erik kept his voice low and non-confrontational. "Of course you don't John, I don't like someone getting involved in this way, either. But look at it in a different way: They didn't ask for money. They aren't really threatening us outright. They are just saying "Treat my guys a bit better than normal. Some of the suggestions and changes are actually better for us. We want a competent, flexible workforce that we can rent out to any corporation. The original contract was pretty rigid. This new version works better and will get more people signing up. And we won't be fighting with the workforce constantly, or losing people. Now contrast that to some of the other people you have worked for. The ones who settle problems with violence. I think this is better."

Jacobs phone rang. He took the call, and walked to the corner of the room where he talked in a low voice, nodding a lot. Finally, he hung up and came back to John, looking shaken. "That was...uh,..That was the big computer, the one in charge that they call Wally? He actually phoned me up to tell me how happy he was with the wording in the new contract and to thank us for our work. He greatly approves of the changes to our original. He's hoping our new business goes well and can raise the standard of living for the workers we hire."

Erik looked at John. "That kind of Lawyer."

John took a deep breath. "Right, so set up the expanded HR unit, get the arbitration board ready to go, and reprint all of those contracts." He forced a smile on his face. "I see this as a good thing. We're all set to move ahead, and have a stamp of approval from the creator of the game. Let's spin this as us treating our workers better because we care. And hey, lets get a thousand or two buttons printed up with that. Just 'Because We Care', what a great slogan!"