I hate the cold
Posted: 2005-08-10 08:47pm
I hate the cold.
Most people do. At least those living in comfortable, climate controlled apartments. And those who don't quickly get used to it, namely, the local mine workers and surveyors.
But not me. I've been here for a year, and I haven't gotten used to it. Not one bit.
I hate the way it makes the trigger of my gun freeze into place. I hate the way that even the slightest gust of wind can send me into shivers, espite the layers of thermal mesh and body armor I wear.
But most of all, I hate it because it makes my job that much more goddamned difficult.
My job, at least compared to some, could be described as easy. All I do is stand around outside my assigned post, pacing back and forth, gun slung over my shoulder, occasionally chatting with another fellow merc. And thats it. 8 hours of pacing, 12 hours of sleep, and whatever's left is reserved for the very special privilges of eating and shitting.
My job, on the surface, is nothing compared to what the miners do. Down in the dark for half a day, relying on green-tinted night vision goggles for sight. Walking, often crouched low, in spaces so small no human should work in, spaces which might suddenly ceases to exist when the ceiling collapses, crushing you, paralyzing you. I've heard horror stories of miners stuck for up to a week under piles of rubble, totally blind, freezing to death, only kept alive by their rudimentary life support systems, belatedly dripping water and nutrient fluids into their mouths. If there is a hell, it probably doesn't scare those miners.
So, it could be worse for me. But thats hardly a comforting fact. Somewhere, out beyond the perimeter of the ice-tinged walls of this facility, are things much, much worse than any miner can experience. If they exist, that is, which I am deeply inclined to believe that they do.
It began a decade ago, or so my briefing files say. Surveyors simply gone. At first, they were written off as either getting lost or being killed by an unfortunate accident. But then more and more disappeared, some under unnatural circumstances. Tell me, what accident leaves a man half alive, with his intestines frozen across his chest, his belly a raw, bloody mess of deep cuts? What accident leaves dozens of men and women in near the same state gibbering about demons? I've seen video files of the survivors giving interviews.
My flesh still crawls remembering them.
Most of them remembered nothing out of the ordinary, going about their mundane jobs, until they feel something touching them.
Then they're on the ground, screaming in pain as talons, or something, opens them up from neck to pelvis, spilling out spools of intestines. After that they pass out from the pain, but some get glimpses of the 'something' doing its hideous work.
I'm hardly a superstitious man, but after the descriptions I've read of these...things, I said a few prayers to whatever god or gods there are.
Most of the victims didn't survive, but a few did. Those that did were hastily shipped off to insane asylums, but the goverment realized that what they were screeching about existed, in some form or another. Assigning the miltary to guard a tiny and out of the way mining station would raise questions, but the hiring of a small group of private contractors by a minor corportation would not.
At least thats the guise the goverment hired us under.
Of course, they didn't tell us who was actually hiring us, but we're experienced enough to know anyways. And the cash was far too much to pass up.
Until we arrived. By then, it was too late to back out. The transport left, and here we were.
But back to the things going on here.
The miners at large didn't know about this; they rarely left the facility anyways. Only the local govermental emmissary, his cronies, and the rescue teams knew about this stuff. And all of them were scared to hell. They put an immediate stop to survey expeditions, ordered several armored rovers (with fifty cal machine guns, no less; I still wonder how blind the miners have to be not to notice) and started the construction of a 30 foot barricade around the station, ostensibly to stop the biting wind and random ice chunks from flying into the base (like that ever happened). A 30 foot barricade with guard towers, razor wire, and gun mounts.
I still can't believe the miners can't be this dumb, but maybe they're just too damn conservative to say anything about it.
So far, silence from outside. No attacks, nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever. I'm starting to think this is an okay job. The local pub is good, there are a fair amount of attractive women around, and the transmitter station has a dedicated datanet link.
It would be almost ideal, except for the cold, and that creeping fear that something is going to happen.
But I have to get to bed now. Recording entries always makes me tired.
END RECORD
Well, lemme know if its any good. I just sort of wrote it while I was bored.
Most people do. At least those living in comfortable, climate controlled apartments. And those who don't quickly get used to it, namely, the local mine workers and surveyors.
But not me. I've been here for a year, and I haven't gotten used to it. Not one bit.
I hate the way it makes the trigger of my gun freeze into place. I hate the way that even the slightest gust of wind can send me into shivers, espite the layers of thermal mesh and body armor I wear.
But most of all, I hate it because it makes my job that much more goddamned difficult.
My job, at least compared to some, could be described as easy. All I do is stand around outside my assigned post, pacing back and forth, gun slung over my shoulder, occasionally chatting with another fellow merc. And thats it. 8 hours of pacing, 12 hours of sleep, and whatever's left is reserved for the very special privilges of eating and shitting.
My job, on the surface, is nothing compared to what the miners do. Down in the dark for half a day, relying on green-tinted night vision goggles for sight. Walking, often crouched low, in spaces so small no human should work in, spaces which might suddenly ceases to exist when the ceiling collapses, crushing you, paralyzing you. I've heard horror stories of miners stuck for up to a week under piles of rubble, totally blind, freezing to death, only kept alive by their rudimentary life support systems, belatedly dripping water and nutrient fluids into their mouths. If there is a hell, it probably doesn't scare those miners.
So, it could be worse for me. But thats hardly a comforting fact. Somewhere, out beyond the perimeter of the ice-tinged walls of this facility, are things much, much worse than any miner can experience. If they exist, that is, which I am deeply inclined to believe that they do.
It began a decade ago, or so my briefing files say. Surveyors simply gone. At first, they were written off as either getting lost or being killed by an unfortunate accident. But then more and more disappeared, some under unnatural circumstances. Tell me, what accident leaves a man half alive, with his intestines frozen across his chest, his belly a raw, bloody mess of deep cuts? What accident leaves dozens of men and women in near the same state gibbering about demons? I've seen video files of the survivors giving interviews.
My flesh still crawls remembering them.
Most of them remembered nothing out of the ordinary, going about their mundane jobs, until they feel something touching them.
Then they're on the ground, screaming in pain as talons, or something, opens them up from neck to pelvis, spilling out spools of intestines. After that they pass out from the pain, but some get glimpses of the 'something' doing its hideous work.
I'm hardly a superstitious man, but after the descriptions I've read of these...things, I said a few prayers to whatever god or gods there are.
Most of the victims didn't survive, but a few did. Those that did were hastily shipped off to insane asylums, but the goverment realized that what they were screeching about existed, in some form or another. Assigning the miltary to guard a tiny and out of the way mining station would raise questions, but the hiring of a small group of private contractors by a minor corportation would not.
At least thats the guise the goverment hired us under.
Of course, they didn't tell us who was actually hiring us, but we're experienced enough to know anyways. And the cash was far too much to pass up.
Until we arrived. By then, it was too late to back out. The transport left, and here we were.
But back to the things going on here.
The miners at large didn't know about this; they rarely left the facility anyways. Only the local govermental emmissary, his cronies, and the rescue teams knew about this stuff. And all of them were scared to hell. They put an immediate stop to survey expeditions, ordered several armored rovers (with fifty cal machine guns, no less; I still wonder how blind the miners have to be not to notice) and started the construction of a 30 foot barricade around the station, ostensibly to stop the biting wind and random ice chunks from flying into the base (like that ever happened). A 30 foot barricade with guard towers, razor wire, and gun mounts.
I still can't believe the miners can't be this dumb, but maybe they're just too damn conservative to say anything about it.
So far, silence from outside. No attacks, nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever. I'm starting to think this is an okay job. The local pub is good, there are a fair amount of attractive women around, and the transmitter station has a dedicated datanet link.
It would be almost ideal, except for the cold, and that creeping fear that something is going to happen.
But I have to get to bed now. Recording entries always makes me tired.
END RECORD
Well, lemme know if its any good. I just sort of wrote it while I was bored.
