The hushed beeping of the support systems over the static of the raging wind was a constant pressure against their ears. The muted colours of the display terminal bathed the sparse barracks- a storage closet, a desk, and an occupied sleeping pod- in a cool, uncomfortable light.
The walls were concrete, a neutral grey with aberrations where it had been worn down by past occupants. There was a patch over on the far side of the wall where an intrepid former employee had decided to carve their name. It hadn’t gone over well with HQ, of course.
They spent a not insignificant amount of their free time tracing over that patch, memorising the tiny fluctuations in concrete density, noting the microscopic whorls and spirals that peppered its surface.
It was a lonely existence out here, but it paid enough to slowly chip away at the nigh insurmountable bills, so there was that.
That former employee’s replacement was currently in the sleeping pod, where they’d remain for the next fifty-one cycles. So, they had the entire cabin to themselves.
That would’ve been excellent if they spent all their time indoors. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. They spent the majority of their time outside, running around in the below-freezing temperatures fixing up the temperamental equipment that almost always went wrong.
They eased themselves into the chair, letting the metal contacts on their left palm rest against the tabletop. The display flashed neon green and informed them that their performance that cycle had been ‘sufficient’.
A deep, deep sigh was all the response it got. HQ was incredibly unreliable, and as long as their performance didn’t slip further it should be fine.
Their eyes wandered to the massive display set into the wall across from them. Systems all up and running, though the temperature on one seemed slightly above nominal. They glanced at it, fingers fumbling against the metal desk for a half-second before it scraped painfully and they withdrew, wincing. The sound rung around the barracks.
Nobody woke.
Still, they hissed an apology- the implant was new, and they weren’t used to it.
Using their other hand, they pulled a notepad and pen from underneath a pile of wrappers left behind by the previous shift. They’d been incredibly expensive to buy, and impractical too- most people tended to use the digital counterparts. But it had always been easier for them to compartmentalise with pen and paper.
That was a sensor to keep an eye on, they noted. It was the very last on a list that still had over a hundred incomplete entries. They were expected to handle all over the remaining fifty cycles of their shift.
A gentle hiss, and a light ringing alerted them to the end of the cycle. Excellent, they thought to themselves, forcing themselves out of the chair. It was time for refuelling.
The tiny antechamber wasn’t a necessity but opening the door to the outside and having all the warm air in the living quarters escape was something the higher ups wanted to avoid. They wanted to keep operational costs as low as possible- and that included heating.
They stepped into it, closed the inner door, breathed, braced themselves, and put in the command to open the outer one.
The wind roared in their ears as the door cracked open. The haze of the blizzard was barely penetrated by the immensely powerful lighthouses in the distance. Here was something interesting they’d learned from their predecessor- if you tried hard enough, you could see them pulsing to the metronome of a beating heart.
The door slid away completely, and they stepped out.
Immediately they were blasted by a torrent of biting wind and snow. It scraped painfully against their already too-dry skin, making their extremities numb. As they took a step off the raised platform the cabin was on, a pile of slush made them lose their footing.
They cursed. Every moment wasted getting to the monolith was coming out of their paycheck. But they couldn’t help it- the sudden drop in temperature was genuinely painful.
That was a good thing, they reminded themselves as their breath rattled in their chest and they struggled to make any progress against the wind. According to people smarter than them, thermal shock was the best way to keep everything working while the recharger stations worked their magic.
One step after another, over tough, rocky outcrops and around narrow ravines that were almost impossible to crawl out of once you fell in. There had once been a well-maintained path- railings and a metal walkway and such- but they hadn’t ever been a priority. On schedules as tight as theirs, you had to decide what was really important.
They tucked their chin against their chest and soldered on. As they stepped into the shadow of a boulder, the wind speed dropped enough that they could watch as their frosted breath was stolen away.
Around a corner, past some craggy rock formations, and they were out in the open.
They steeled themselves and stared down the imposing figure.
The monoliths were a tricky business- shunned almost universally at the time of their introduction, they soon became an industry standard. In essence, the largest loss of productivity among the working class was attributed to lethargy and sleep. These were an ingenious way of delaying both- the monoliths recharged you, over and over and over again, until your shift partner took over and you got to catch up on it all.
People had died, of course. But they’d been outliers, and the vast majority had been able to trundle on. Therefore, they had been adopted instantly. HQ had set theirs right out in the open, so in case of an emergency a helicopter could lift it out. The devices were ultra-expensive, but apparently that was more than made up for by the increased productivity of their workers.
As they neared, a readout inquisitively beeped just in front of their left eye. They ignored it. It was a status report, informing them just how violent the refuelling process would be. Because of course, if they’d used up a bit too much energy, it would be extra painful.
They tried not to think about it, but now that the time to refuel was upon them they couldn’t think of anything else. Had they exceeded their quota? Had they gone over the soft limit? Or had they, for once, stayed within their bounds.
As something in the vicinity began to whir, they prayed the mainframe deity would take pity on them.
The monolith flashed a blinding red, and they felt their limbs tear.
Their mouth opened in a wordless scream as they were lifted, limp in the monolith’s pseudo-telekinetic grasp. The whirring rose in pitch, spinning in and out and in and out and in and out and…
They imagined a cybernetic ballerina pirouetting across a stage shrouded in silver, the chrome on its arms flashing in time with the music as the stage lights bounced off it like bullets. A perfect meld of grace and power.
The monolith set them aflame from the inside out.
They spluttered, spittle flying from their mouth as its grasp faded, letting them fall the ten or so feet to the ground. The attachments on their legs took the brunt of the impact, as they did most nights, but that didn’t stop the rest of their body from thudding to the ground.
The impact kicked up dust, almost immediately flicked away by the wind. They wondered how that worked. This close to the ground, the wind wasn’t blowing quite as hard. It was almost peaceful.
They stumbled to their feet, mechanical joints whirring and clacking. All over their body, holographic readouts bloomed like flowers.
They ignored them, deciding to savour the moment. It had been a gentle refuelling, their first of this shift.
The equipment status alert blared nervously in their ear, so they brought the readout up. 35bpm, a bit low but nothing to be worried about. Thirty degrees ambient, with all bionic components just a bit lower. They sighed in relief- no errors, no breakdowns. They’d made it through the day.
Fifty more cycles, they assured themselves. Fifty more, then I get to sleep.
Dismissing the displays, they turned and trudged back into the grey.