Whispers.

 

That is the language of the mines. If the guards catch you talking, they beat you. And so, we whisper. Today, the subject of the whispers is a streak that has appeared in the sky. It doesn’t look like the contrails of the typical cargo ship coming to take away the corrodium we have been mining. No, this is a passenger ship which can only mean one thing: the Emperor is coming to visit.

 

Suddenly, taskmasters rush into our caves ordering us to return to the surface. On any other occasion, we would relish the break from the crushing monotony of mining. However, as I look around, all the faces are grim and the whispers grimmer. We all know what is about to happen.

 

Once we reach the surface we all know where to go. We trudge forward, not talking, not even whispering, toward the only structure on this planet any of us have ever seen: an enormous stadium. Rising one hundred meters out of the side of which is a towering skyscraper. I can’t look at it, choosing instead to stare at my feet. With every glance at the stadium, bile rises into my mouth along with memories of the atrocities that have been committed within.

 

Once I reach the stadium, I start climbing the rickety stairs until a taskmaster yells at me that I have gone high enough. I take my seat on a rotting wooden bench. I don’t need to look down to know what I will see in the arena of the stadium: a single person hanging upside down wrapped in a cocoon of chains.

 

Eventually, everyone takes their seats. Everything is eerily quiet. The machines that ordinarily run nonstop mining corrodium are silent. The constant noise of pickaxes against stone that constantly rings in our ears is absent.

 

The only thing that breaks the hush is coughing, but who notices that? The air is so toxic from the dust and fumes that coughing is as common as breathing. It’s just another torture we are forced to endure.

 

We all sit in that unearthly silence, waiting. Eventually, as it always does, the whispering begins. The sound of it slithers over the crowd. The person sitting to my right leans over and whispers, “What is going on? What are they doing to that woman?”

 

I look over and see a boy, perhaps seventeen. He must be new, captured by the ships sent out to gather new slaves. This is going to be his first time watching this scene.

 

I’m about to respond when suddenly the whispering intensifies. I look up to the skyscraper and see a single figure standing on a balcony overlooking us: the Emperor. An expression of complete hatred crosses my face. He did this to us, and there is nothing we can do to stop him. The immense feeling of powerlessness that comes over me is almost unbearable. I wish death upon this man with every fiber of my being.

 

The Emperor begins to speak. “People of Corrodia, as you can see, there is a criminal in our midst. This woman has broken Corrodian law and for that, she must die. May this serve as a warning and a comfort: if you obey my laws, you may live as a citizen in glorious Corrodia. However, if you break them…"

 

The ground beneath the chained woman begins to creak and grind. A chasm opens in the arena floor. The air fills with the stench of rotting flesh and the sounds of snarling beasts. The chains holding the woman begin to lower her down into the pit, her screams muffled by a gag in her mouth.

 

It’s at this moment that I realize, I can’t take this anymore.

 

I feel myself rising to my feet. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know that I have had enough. Enough slaving away my entire life for a sociopath. Enough watching innocent people die before my eyes for no reason at all. I don’t care what they do to me. I don’t even care if I die. I need to do something. The wood of the stadium creaks beneath my weight as I run down the steps. My heart is pounding in my ears as I jump over the small wall dividing the arena from the stands. I vaguely register the sounds of guards shouting to each other, but I don’t pay attention. My entire consciousness is focused on the taskmaster still lowering the woman to her doom.

 

I slam into him, knocking him to the ground. His blaster slides across the ground and I scramble toward it. I snatch it up and feel the guard’s hand wrap around my ankle. I point the blaster in his direction and fire. The grasp loosens. I feel myself turn toward the lone figure standing on his balcony overlooking us. I aim for a second and pull the trigger.

 

* * *

 

I feel the searing pain of a laser round hit my stomach.

 

I’m in a daze. My cheek lying against the cold solid floor of the arena. The smell of blood and blaster fumes filling my nose. I open my eyes and the grays and browns of the stadium come blurily into view. However, through this daze, I register something completely unexpected. The sound of, not silence, not even whispering, but fighting fills my ears.

 

I look up and see that the miners have revolted and started attacking the taskmasters. Flashes from the guard’s blasters fly across the stadium. Shouts of both pain and rage ring through the air. I struggle to discern which side is winning, but the pain from my laser wound has become unbearable. I curl my body around my stomach and squeeze my eyes shut. This is the end. My meaningless life of slavery has led to this moment, and now I am about to die. A single tear escapes my eye, and I draw my final breath.