Excerpt:
Mines and Colonies
“Beep, beep.” The alarm on his electronic bracelet chirped. This time, it signaled he had exceeded the 80-decibel limit mandated by the Social Coexistence Law. Failure to comply meant a drastic reduction in personal benefits.
Rodolfo lowered his voice and signaled to Carmen, his neighbor in the adjacent building, whose window sat almost directly across from his.
“It’s late, hurry up,” he mouthed. He pointed his left index finger at his wrist and then circled his right, as if reeling in a fishing line, exaggerating his gestures and facial expressions without making a sound.
Carmen nodded and slid her window shut.
They met at the entrance of the Government Building where Rodolfo worked. He was helping Carmen navigate the bureaucracy for a permit that would allow her to follow the natural course of aging.
She had just turned thirty-eight and intended to age until sixty-five before undergoing the Citizen Inoculation. The vast majority of the population was kept in their forties—the peak of productivity. However, a privileged minority was permitted to age further, enjoying specific perks because their professions fell within the scientific or political-military spheres. The logic was that more “developed” minds were required to push the theoretical boundaries of technological advancement, all to serve the Federation’s ultimate goal: the consolidation of the Martian conquest.
They approached a reception desk where Rodolfo requested an appointment with the “Office of Strategic Solutions.” They were assigned to an executive named Oscar, an old acquaintance of Rodolfo’s.
“I see you haven’t changed much,” Oscar greeted them, his tone laced with dry humor.
Ignoring the jab, Rodolfo cut to the chase. “This is my friend Carmen. We need your help applying for a Natural Life Extension Permit. She’s a biologist, currently in research.”
“Rodolfo, my friend,” Oscar countered, “these are lean times. Lunar mining and the Martian conquest have decimated the Earth’s population. We’re under orders to reject all applications until further notice. Too many complications; progress on Mars is sluggish due to the extreme conditions, and we’re facing a massive production deficit. You know how it is… insurgencies in the colonies, the construction of gunships, housing, orbital machinery… not to mention what we need down here.”
“Come on, Oscar. Nobody dies of natural causes anymore,” Rodolfo argued. “Ever since the Great Leader discovered the elixir of life, the global population has nearly doubled, and practically everyone is funneled into the production sector.”
“True,” Oscar admitted, “but don’t forget that birth rates are barely outpacing mortality two-to-one. When you factor in the suicides, military casualties, mining accidents, and the exodus to the colonies, we still can’t meet the baseline demands.”
Carmen watched the exchange between the two officials with growing anxiety. The interview was on the verge of collapsing. She knew she had to step in.
“Mr. Oscar,” she began, “I am a lead researcher on a team studying the incubation of infants adapted to low-density atmospheres, like those on Mars. However, we need to simulate DNA mutation models for lung cells to reduce their dependence on hydrogen. To achieve this, we must specialize in advanced calculus—courses only accessible to scientists with an inoculation deferral.” She paused for rhetorical effect before adding, “It’s common knowledge in our circles that your department reserves a quota for exceptional candidates. I was wondering if…”
“There you have it,” Rodolfo interjected. “She fits the criteria, Oscar. Come on, man—at least give her the chance to apply. Let the technicians make the final call.”
Oscar studied them for a long moment, his fingers interlaced, thumbs twiddling as he ran through calculations known only to him.
“Accepting an application implies my tacit endorsement, Ms. Carmen,” he finally replied. “And that exposes me to the scrutiny of both superiors and colleagues. There are people who would sell their own mothers to see my head on a platter, so I must be cautious. However, you come well-recommended, and that demands the courtesy of a review. Leave me your CV. After the mandatory background check, I’ll contact you in a couple of months.”
Carmen nodded with a tight, nervous smile, fully aware that she would be investigated exhaustively. But she was prepared; she had blind faith in her comrades’ handiwork. It had taken years to get this far…
…"
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