Scratching out a Living

[Not Espi]

‘Damn, I could use a pint of some decent ale.’, Dave said while wiping sweat off his forehead. He was looking down into the smelter. His face was illuminated with orange light from the boiling metal. ‘It’s hot like hell in here. I can’t believe we’re not paying the LPI for a sauna service. You think the wardens use this place as a spa?’

Clarence looked at him, with a grin on his face - ‘Are you serious, with all the stuff we throw in there? I’m actually surprised we’re not poisoned at this point. Heck ... we were throwing this junk in for a year and a half now.’ He pulled out a plate of scrap metal with blue moss on it, and turned it towards Dave ‘Think this is a nomad?’

Dave took the plate, smelled the blue substance, made a disgusted expression and threw the piece into the mass of liquefied metal. ‘If it was one, it definitely shat it’s pants before this bastard hit it. You believe in this nomad poisoning stuff?’

‘The heck I care. I’m buying my island on Curacao and never need to worry about the stuff again. Just a beach, my wife, kinds and their private lecturers. Screw space. It’s too dangerous anyway. Five more months. Just five more months and I get to have a private piece of heaven with them.’ Clarence stopped talking for a bit, thinking, then looked back at Dave. ‘You never told me what you will do when you get out of this place.’

Dave stopped throwing scrap metal into the smelter, looked back at his cell mate, raised an eyebrow and started throwing stuff back again. ‘I’m not sure... 37 year-old thief. What job could I get? I guess I might spend quite some time looking for work.’

‘I still know folks in the DSE, you know. Might talk to a few people to shut one eye, or two, when looking at your resume. You’re a good guy, Dave... Life was hard on you though. Before I came here, we were making surveys in Pennsylvania. Seems there is a crapload of silver there. I guess the company will still be looking for miner pilots. A favor returned. It's the least I can do.’