I got my lips pursed kissing the mascarons

The kommissar had wanted, quite obviously so, to impose guilt through association upon him. Unfortunately for that murderous sadist, unlike his brother Haven Culyagaer was of clear value to the government. He was a skilled machinist and lathe operator and with the country's industrial output clearly gearing up for war, his profession and certified level of skill made him more use alive than as a 'warning'.

Haven saw only a dark future ahead. He had no faith in the government, his country, or his fellow citizens, but that didn't matter. His mother had suffered loss enough already. He wouldn't bring her more pain. Not as long as his actions were still his own.

.

"You know you're enabling the enemy, Havv? You make the guns that will kill people just like us!"

"Shut the hell up, Cirro! What is wrong with you?"

"Well it's true! Staiigher Forgeworks makes the Mk17GP machineguns and..."

"Yes, and Ruhfler Mills, where you work, makes the cloth that will be made into the uniforms that will be worn by those killers you just mentioned!'

"That's different! Clothes don't kill!"

"No? Well naked soldiers don't fight wars!"

"Bloody goddamn hell! 'They're Always Watching', 'They're Always Listening'! Those aren't just fucking slogans for the fucking posters! Are you in a rush to be murdered as well? They'll call you terrorists or insurgents! There are no martyrs or heroes unless the government decrees it!"

"Haven, at least think about Ursula!"

"Shut! Up! Shut the bloody fucking well up! You utter ass! He buried his brother yesterday!"

Haven looked at his friends and couldn't say what he saw. Because he knew what they all, every last one including him, would look like if they were arrested and charged with "activities indicating an anti-patriotic sentiment". There would be no court nor trial. If you were arrested you were guilty. They wouldn't arrest you if you were innocent. That was the new narrative. That's how it was. The Grand and Exalted Leader made no mistakes. By default, those who served in His Name made no mistakes either. They carried out The Will of His Greatness. Mistakes were what traitors called swift and just punishment.

"Haven, my comrade, my deepest sympathy and please ignore Cirro. He's worried they'll redesignate his job as non-exempt under the expansion of conscription."

"I know, Rupp. I know. He's an ass, but he's OUR ass." Haven said and smiled at Ruprecht Brennering. The older man was the moral and emotional anchor of their group. Rupp knew how it had been. The man saw more than the others. "They want to start a war but keep putting out directives that declare that half the population aren't 'true citizens'. If they listen to themselves it's going to be a small army, not capable of defeating anyone."

"That will change the day they declare war. Mark my words." Rupp said as he prepared his pipe. The older man's job on the docks provided him the luxury of tobacco. "The very day it starts they will proclaim that it is the duty of all to protect the Fatherland and carry it forward to glorious victory."

"They've done it before?"

"They've done it before."

"And it will work again?"

"Of course it will work again. We aren't allowed to remember the past." Rupp said after matching his pipe and drawing it to life. "I remember because I had already left school before the new history was created. They'll put the people who aren't 'true citizens' into units led by fanatics who will spend lives like water. People like us will bleed so that people like them won't have to."

"You say that aloud after what you just said to Cirro?"

"Yes. I do." Rupp said and patted Haven's shoulder. "But I say it quietly and to a man that I know I can trust."

.

"Clagger! What church do you attend?"

Haven turned the water off in the work sink and quickly toweled his short cut hair before straightening. "Church? No church, boss. Church is for people who want to give money away, not make it."

"You weren't raised religious?" The foreman pressed and kept back. He was, unlike Haven, neither sweaty nor filthy. "Your folks didn't follow the Word?"

"I was raised to respect hard work. Not the beggars promising heaven to all these lazy damn drains upon society." Haven said with the appropriate amount of fervor. He didn't have to believe the words in order to mean them. "People with enough time for church but not enough time to work for their keep? No, boss. Got no use for that kind!"

"You're a proper one, Clagger. It's good to know that you're reliable." The foreman said and did a slow look around to make sure none were lurking near. "Well, we are going to have extra shifts for Sunday work coming up soon. I'm guessing you're interested. It will pay time-plus. Can I put you down for it?"

"Time-plus? Oh, please do! I definitely want the work!" Haven said as he tossed the dirty towel into the laundry bag by the sink. "I appreciate you thinking of me and giving me the opportunity, boss!"

"I'll put you on the list, comrade. I'm pleased to see that you have the proper patriotic attitude." The foreman said and made a mark upon the clipboard that he held. "I know you know better than to tell others of your luck."

"It's none of their business what is said as you to me." Haven said and saluted the foreman with a fist held to his chest. "Thank you for the honor boss!"

"You're welcome, comrade. Now then, well, enjoy your evening. But not too much. I know that you always arrive on time ready to work. That's a virtue. Don't turn away from it!"

"Never, boss!" Haven said and saluted the foreman and held it until the man nodded and turned away, but then a bit longer as well.

'They're Always Watching'.

Haven Culyagaer knew without a doubt that it was, as Rupp had said, the truth and not merely an empty slogan.

.

"Comrade. The hounds on ya?:

"No. Just a small dog." Haven said to a machinist he only knew by sight. The night shift was entering through the gates as the day shift crowded through the exit turnstiles. "No teeth touched me."

"Luck on you." The man said and let it be. The code of the workers was subtle but clear. You never asked just what a comrade had done to draw the attention of bosses, or what they had been told.

Small dogs just yapped. Noise without consequences. It happened all the time. Actual mistakes meant being censured or written up. Being bit. Anything else? Anything a boss told you that wasn't announced to all? You didn't talk of those things ever. 'Dispensing information that could potentially create dissatisfaction amongst workers' was a crime originally targeted at union organizers and political activists. Now it covered anything that management saw as having even the smallest chance of fomenting dissent or resistance to orders.

Haven looked at the inbound shift. Dressed in well worn but clean overalls. All those leaving wore grease and oil stains held in place by their own overalls. Every day was the same. Every day the evidence of who did the real work, who made the factory run and be productive, was on display at dawn and dusk. Every payday the proof of who held actual value was illustrated by the paymaster.