Autocracy in the Derelict
The overseers had started to talk. I don’t know when it first started as it was something that happened gradually. I noticed the overseer in charge of my and Flint’s party conversing with some of the others. They spoke n low voices and made sure we wouldn’t hear them. But there were murmurs elsewhere. The serfs were talking.
I don’t know who first disseminated it. Everybody claimed that they got the information from someone else. But, the members of my party believed them, so I took them as fact. The rumors stated that the Autocrat would be coming to our part of Dominentur.
My party said that Dominentur was made up of multiple central towers, each sequestered a mile or so off from the others. Not only had people carved a life for themselves, out here in the Derelict, but they had multiple ‘cities’ as well. It seemed that the Autocrat in charge would be coming to our corner of Dominentur. I didn’t quite know what to think.
“So, this Autocrat? What’s his deal? How did he come to be in charge?” I directed these questions towards Jen, a member of my party. It was lunchtime, and we were both in the mess hall, conversing in hushed tones. The overseers didn’t like such questions, fearing that they may cause dissent.
“I don’t know much. I’ve only been here for a year, and serfs don’t get my chance to see him. But, I heard rumors from some of the other serfs and- form some of my friends that became overseers.”
I leaned in closer, eyeing our party’s overseer conversing with another by the exit. Off to my left, Flint was eating his food, oblivious.
“Well,” Jen continued, “It seems as if he was among the first to enter the Derelict, some hotshot explorer or whatnot. In any case, it seemed that he and his group soon realized that they wouldn’t be able to escape the Derelict. I’ve heard that he was the one who rallied the people and kept them safe. As more people entered the Derelict, they joined him and his group. One thing leads to another, and the Autocrat no longer needed to do the labor himself. And, somehow, feudalism came back. A bit anachronistic, don’t you think?” Here Jen took a large swig of her water.
“Huh.”
“I know.” Jen leaned in conspiratorially. “Though, some of the other serfs are talking about giving the man a piece of our mind.”
I felt something swell within me. Life as a serf had been terrible. It was long and dangerous work. I looked over my left shoulder to Flint, who was paying attention to the sorry pile of baby-poop green meat that passed for food in this place. He was so pathetically grateful to Dominentur for the safety they provided. Flint wouldn’t dare do anything of the like. But I wasn’t Flint.
I looked at Jen, who seemed to share the same light in her eyes. One look and I could tell she saw it in me as well.
“Ok,” I spoke in hushed tones, “tell me more.”
It was hard for serfs to gather. We were either in the mess hall, in the bathroom in our rooms, or working. The overseers monitored us at all times. Of course, this was to prevent us from escaping, not necessarily to keep us from talking. But the effect was still the same. When they weren’t directly in the room with us, they made sure to lock the doors.
But, there were still ways to communicate and to organize. As had been demonstrated previously, lunch was the easiest time. It was so loud in the mess hall; no one would notice what a few people were saying. But, there were other ways.
Written instructions were created and distributed. Jen and the others used them for longer messages. They were drafted, received, then could be perused at one’s leisure.
I held the message in my hands, turning my body so that Flint couldn’t see it. It sickened me to keep things from him, but I still wasn’t sure how he would react. I desperately wanted what was best for him, but I didn’t know what it was.
As a close friend, I couldn’t let him go through terrible things. I felt the need to protect him. But, Flint would tell me that he was just happy to be safe, that we were together. Then we would both have a day of hard and dangerous labor. After all, the serfs spent time counting their scars. Just the thought of it was horrific: counting scars? But, it was no longer unthinkable; both Flint and I had had our initiation already. We had each been scarred.
My scar was a bit puny compared to those worn by the others, with a small nick on my forearm. (This wasn’t the forearm with the tattoo, but the other one.) As I sat, holding, but not reading, the paper in my arms, the memory of it almost seemed to hurt. I hardened my resolve, and so I opened up the folded piece of paper and read:
If you have received this letter, it is because you have chosen to help free yourself and your fellow serfs. Ultimately, it is now clear that revolting soon, when the Autocrat is here, would have a profound effect. If we delay any longer, that effect could be lost. That is something we cannot afford. Dominentur lies on a dagger’s edge. It is our duty, to us, and to our fellows, to strike.
And strike we shall. So, we will need weapons. The overseers have seen fit to remove our weapons, except when we can use said weapons in servitude for Dominentur. That being said, we have Terrik, an overseer who has promised to help us. We can be sure of his allegiance as he has only recently been promoted. He shall disseminate weapons on Tuesday, the day before the Autocrat comes to meet us, at lunch. We will give additional instructions then.
Freedom for the serfs!
