CORRESPONDENCE 1031 â THIRD QUADRANT 6 > NEVADA CENTRAL DISPATCH ~092338 RE: ASSESSMENT REPORT - Officer Yuki de Witt
OFFICERâS NOTES: 3Q6 is one of the more efficient quadrants within the Mining Division. All of Sectors 5 through 9 have consistently run at full or double quota for the last season. CIRCUMSTANTIAL: Successful liaison with 3Q6 Board of Captains (Cpt. SPIEGEL, absent) regarding the sudden death of Unit 23 Cpt. SILTSMEAR from 4Q6. Decision pending. Further info required. INCIDENT REPORT: n/a WORKER MORALE: Moderate
~RESPONSE: Received (211)
DIGGING CORPS - LOG 081/- Hey. I know youâll never read this, but I guess I donât need you to. Was only supposed to stay a few days, write up my assessment for Dispatch and then leave, but then one of the captains in a neighboring quadrant fucking died. Nothing nefarious mind you, just dust pneumonia. Certainly, more paperwork than it was worth. Sounds like a lot of weird shitâs been going on over there, so one of the captains went over to assist with the transitional period, and I agreed to stay here at Third Q6 to cover until he could be replaced. That was over a month ago now, and I miss the fucking sun! Never thought Iâd say that. Had a few reservations about being stuck underground this long as the only woman for miles in any direction, but so far, apart from the odd leer in the mess hall, I have remained âunharassedâ. The worst of it would be one particularly cantankerous geezer called Ira Trask, Foreman of 9C, who insisted on addressing me by my first name until I referred him to the NCD handbook on worksite professionalism, and he relented. I assumed he just wanted to be friendly so I'd help get him promoted, but now I think it was something deeper, more sad and nostalgic. Thereâs a lock on my door at least, and being exceptionally tall seems to give them second thoughts. But as youâd imagine, heightâs not generally an advantage in tight, enclosed spaces with low ceilings. Most shovelmen develop a stooped physique during their time in the corps. Fucked if Iâm gonna stay that long.
Yuk
DIGGING CORPS â LOG 94/- Decided if I have to be stuck down here in Satanâs ass crack, twiddling my thumbs, I might as well spend the time processing some individual Worker Profiles. The shovelmen generally alternate between reticent, awkward, sullen or befuddled by the concept of being personally assessed, but if me doing their interview gets them a few minutes to slack off their shifts, theyâre happy enough for the distraction. Foreman Trask is displeased by the interruption, but he is welcome to sit on it.
Names seem to be taboo here. I know all the workersâ names of course, because itâs on their file, but that really freaks them out and thereâs no point in using them. Share anything of your backstory with your fellow shovelmen, anything that they can tie back to you, and thatâs a power they now hold over you. It's like some kind of deep occult shit, but for fucking miners. Everyone gets a new name here, bestowed upon you by your peers. And you only get that so you can tell whose shovel youâre holding.
Met a greenie from Unit 9A named Theodore today. The others call him âMouseâ which he seems to prefer. Whether itâs for his demeanor, his silky brown hair, or, I donât know, maybe he just likes cheese, he wonât answer to anything else despite having only been here two months. I asked him and a few others what they knew about the late Captain from 4Q6. Common sentiment seems to be that he was mad as a balloon.
Yuk
DIGGING CORPS - LOG 113/- Had a dream about the swing mom never built us. The big tire swing that wasnât in the apple orchard. I know you donât remember it, because, well, it never existed, but I feel like Iâve mentioned it before. Anyway, in the dream, I was swinging in the orchard at night time. And the sky was so pitch black, because there werenât any stars at all. Just a void. Like, the dream was set after the sun had just died, and there was nothing left. Or maybe it wasnât night. Maybe the orchard was inside a cave. It doesnât matter. So, the swing was just a regular car tire, but then as I swung higher, I looked down and it was suddenly bigger. Stretching out to the size of a tractor tire. Or something off a monster truck. Then, I swung higher, and the tire grew again, too big for any actual vehicle, and now I could easily fit inside the trough of the tire itself and lie in it like a big hammock. But I couldnât do that, because the trough was full of apples. Hundreds of these squishy brown apples in various states of decay. And the apples were growing too. Larger and larger, bustling and toppling over each other until they were the size of bowling balls, and then beach balls, and I was sort of half-drowning, half-swimming in these apples. And then I realized. They werenât growing. I was shrinking. So, I climbed inside of an apple where the pip should be, because I knew deep down that was the logical place to go to die, and then I woke up. Iâm pretty sure I know what it means, even if you donât.
Yuk
DIGGING CORPS â LOG 115/- Random insights gleaned from Unit 9 Review a.k.a. âOperation: Peanut Galleryâ:
Shovelman âWilesâ - Appears to be the closest thing Sector 9 has to a medic. At least, he says he knows how to saw a manâs leg off without killing him, which is good enough here apparently. I didnât ask for specifics. There is a constant film of dust covering his glasses, which he seems unaware of.
Shovelman âTwoshortâ- Tried to convince me itâs common practice for the men to eat handfuls of dirt as a snack, given itâs more nutritious than whatever they were being served in the mess hall. I offered to immediately lodge a formal complaint with Captain Spiegel and the Food Prep team on his behalf, and he backpedaled comically fast, and then tripped on his way out because his foot was asleep.
Shovelman âBasherâ â Built like a shuttle truck and functionally deaf after an incident with a stick of dynamite last year. Uses a form of abridged sign language that he and a few others in his unit invented specifically for him. Extremely introverted at first until Wiles came to interpret for me, then he wouldn't shut up.
Shovelman âBlessedâ - Recently discovered an injured bat, which he has taken it upon himself to nurse back to health against NCD regulation 58N. He also appears to be deathly allergic to said bat, as his face and hands had swollen incredibly within minutes of handling the thing. A persistent sneezing has overtaken him, but apparently thatâs normal and unrelated to the bat. Also allergic to dirt?
Regardless, get me the fuck out of here. Yuk











