Workers Strike in New Edom

[New Edom]

Port Autovia,
Etruria Majora Province
New Edom

Foreign journalists, diplomats and concerned parties became aware of the factory workers’ strike when things exploded into violence after seven ignored weeks.

It blazed into action in the ugly industrial city of Port Autovia when uploaded by some tech savvy students. Explosions of tear gas, thousands of yelling and screaming workers waving signs reading things like FAIR HOUSING, SAFE CONDITIONS, STOP POISONING US! Seen swelling back in waves from black clad riot militia moving forward with marching feet, waving long riot batons. Fire hoses sprayed people to the ground, vehicles blared sirens and loudspeakers.

The uploaded videos briefly explained this: Please help Edomite chrysotile workers fight unfair conditions. Dust reduction technology, improved health and safety equipment, safer factory workers’ housing is a must! Requests to ask the Port Autovia Chrysotile Factory management for these conditions have been refused! We have no reportage on this in our own country! We must know why! Please speak to our government leaders to help us and intercede as they have promised!

Earlier
The mourners walked and wailed, clasping their hands together, looking upwards to Heaven in their grief. Women with tears streaking down their faces, clothed only in long hair and ashes, walked barefoot in the streets, moaning and howling their grief. Men stripped likewise walked and lashed their own lean and worn bodies lashed with leather multi-thonged wips. Welts and streaks were appearing on them as they staggered forward. Others crowded to throw them flowers and fling clouds of ashes and incense into the air.

Papa Geryon was dead. The oldest, wisest man at the Port Autovia Chrysotile Factory. Papa Geryon had been celebrated as the oldest man in factory work in the country at 80, still strong and hale.

A growing worry in New Edom about the ‘Chrysotile Curse’ had been stifled at times by the scoffing of Papa Geryon. Still strong at 80, with 11 kids, having buried two wives and now with a third a third his age, he had been praised for his strength and vigour. “There is no curse!” The curse, which apparently caused madness, head sickness, and breathing illnesses, was not believed in by Geryon and his friends. He was much admired—the man who made it possible for many working class families to deal well with one another and their bosses. Open handed, he had made sure that the sick and injured got meals and help at home, that children got into decent schools, that churches were fixed up well, that the local sports teams had equipment.

But Papa Geryon had been growing increasingly ill, and one day just collapsed with a tale of a terrible pain in his head. And at Rosa Crucis Hospital, he died after five days. His grieving widow said that he had been complaining of pains in his head all along…

And so at his funeral, Lem Remigius, a younger supervisor in his 60s, stood and said, his voice choked, “We believed Papa Geryon that our factory was safe. That those as have been saying that the dust at the factory is not safe are just break room lawyers wanting more coppers in their pockets. But now we know...the Crysotile Curse is real!”

It was at this point that several of the workers’ more influential men, as well as some widows and family members, gathered to protest to their bosses.

The factory was owned by the Mines and Materials Ministry and was a national company. So the management were government officials. The senior official of personnel, Mr. Orin Tercel, informed the workers that “Crysotile is hardly dangerous. It is being used in every aspect of our industry, including in construction. Without our production of it here we would be paying a fortune for the materials. There is no Crysotile Curse. The company chaplain has confirmed this. You must all go back to work.”

However this was not satisfying to the representatives. Remigius had a meeting with Dorian Uldis, the Secretary-General of the Union of Industrial Workers, and it was agreed that he Union would support a strike.

The workers walked off their shifts seven weeks earlier. After a few days of not being able to operate the factory due to the solidarity of the the workers, substitute workers were brought in from off duty and part time workers from Nass, who had little idea of what was going on. However the strikers blocked access to the roads. General Manager Abel Aseph had then hired strike breakers, and the Ethnarch of Port Autovia sent in militia to support them in breaking up the strikes. However this encounter was explosive and the militia, not armed with live ammunition, were not able to break the strike. And thus the strikers made camp once again on the roads leading to the factory, and the militia and strike breakers withdrew to consider their tactics. At this point Aseph and the Ethnarch had no idea that any videos had been uploaded. Secretary-General Uldis and Lemuel Remigius tried once more in vain to get in touch with Edomite journalists to get their story out. Their own private press published leaflets. They unexpectedly had the Bishop of Port Autovia on their side who said with disapproval to the people of the city in a sermon, "let us not forget the words of Christ--what you have done unto the least of these you do to me."

[Hittanryan]

Port Autovia
Etruria Majora Province

The bespectacled, slightly doughy Rod Eastnam was one of the first Adiran reporters on the scene in Port Autovia. Based out of ANBC's Acheron headquarters in Avantine, he'd been poking around New Edom ever since the Eskura oilfield started to get off the ground. Some Adirans were willing to give them the benefit of the doubt because it was holding elections and enacting labor reforms now. Eastnam wasn't one of them. After pursuing the Eskura story, he attempted to investigate allegations of human rights violations. Even before the business with the Arvo, aid workers he'd spoken to had heard whispers of horrors inflicted upon political prisoners within Stonehaven Prison. There wasn't enough evidence to publish on that subject, however, as the government had been completely airtight to him so far; if it hadn't been blanket denials, it had been red tape.

Having reached a dead end on Stonehaven some weeks ago, he had shifted his focus to Port Autovia. Videos uploaded by the workers spoke of a labor dispute over workplace conditions, one which was not being reported on fairly. This might as well have been a red flag to Eastnam's bull, as he immediately contacted the Avantine office, waking up his boss in the process, and informed them of his intention to travel to Port Autovia, making accommodations to stay at whatever hotel, boarding house, or even rental property was available.

It hadn't been easy at first. Many of those who testified before the union were reluctant to speak to a foreigner. Eventually, however, people started to get mad enough to talk. By the time the violence broke out, over a dozen workers had came forward on record, and Eastnam was convinced that there was indeed something here. There could've been hundreds of workers afflicted over the twenty or so years of the plant's operation. He started doing his own research in between interviews, finding Adiran workplace safety standards on Chrysotile, medical studies on Chrysotile exposure, and collecting figures on the industry here in New Edom, namely how big the industry was and what it would take to implement better safety protocols nationwide, seeing how it was a state-run industry.

Once the fighting broke out, Eastnam stepped on one of the leaflets produced by the union. Lem Remigius and Secretary-General Uldis were desperately trying to get their story out to the wider public. To Eastnam's knowledge the dispute was largely unknown everywhere else. Foreign press would be better than no press at all, by Eastnam's reckoning.

He started with phone calls to Remigius, Uldis, and the Bishop, who might have vaguely known who he was by now, perhaps having met him once in passing but having not given any official interview yet. The general message to all three was the same, something along the lines of "Excellency, my name is Rod Eastnam, I'm a reporter with ANBC covering the dispute here. I understand if any of you have misgivings about speaking to foreign press, but I was thinking we could figure something out. I want to get a camera crew down here, catch some shots of the picket line. I might even be able to talk the network into maybe selling the rights to the story to Edomite media outlets if they'll publish it. I've also got some information and studies on Chrysotile from the Adiran Health and Labor Departments that you may find interesting. I'll have to talk to the government and management as well, but at least you won't get swept under the rug this way. Good luck."

Eastnam did have to at least look like he was covering both sides of the story. To that end, he also contacted the Ethnarch, General Manager Abel Aseph, and Orin Tercel. Eastnam explained that he was planning on writing a story on the strike and asked if they would care to comment or if they wished to schedule an interview. If they inquired why he was pursuing the story or was outright discouraged from pursuing the matter further, Eastnam would explain that labor reform in New Edom had serious implications with respect to Edomite domestic politics, the Edomite national economy, and international trade. Therefore, the impacts of labor reform was a story of interest to not just Adiron and New Edom but to Cornellia as a whole.

[New Edom]

Port Autovia

Port Autovia was a small city with perhaps 60,000 people in it. it was largely focused on factory work and support for mines in the district of the province it was in, though it also received regular shipments of goods largely by rail. Thus a large rail junction and transport station was there and was another major employer.

The Bishop, Aloysius Frith, presided over nearly 50 parishes and it was exhausting work. He had regularly along with the senior board members of the conclave requested that an archbishop be appointed but instead a series of sub committes had been established under the conclave. A greying haired man who increasingly combed lank locks of that hair over a balding pate, with a withering face and eyes prematurely sunken, he was a tired man but a devoted one. On Eastman's first day the Bishop was in the area of the factory, and visited the choir school, toured the churches (one Apostolic, one Edenist ETC, one Haranese, one combined Protestant, one Messianic) and the neighborhood, then stopped at the Miner's Home down the street. He was the soul of the avuncular pastor, reaching out with a kind gesture or word to all he met. His daughter Vipsania trailed him dutifully, and helped keep his appointments and filtered people who wanted to meet with him. She also kept her eye out for a man, for she was unmarried and old for it at 22.

When she presented him with Eastman’s message, the bishop replied. “My dear Mr. Eastman, I am delighted to make your acquaintance and would like to invite you to take a little lunch tomorrow so that we can talk in a relaxed way. Please bring a good appetite and what you need to hear my point of view on the matter.

---

The early morning summer sunshine filtered through the curtains as Lemuel Remigius woke. The still good looking hard bodied man in his sixties felt every one of his sixty three years today as he put his bare feet on the ground. He got up and looked out, still naked from sleep. His body was hardly romantic; lumps where muscled had healed from ruptures, scars and roughness and dark hair made it less a dashing statue, more an aging but challenging hillside.

There was hardly a spectacular view; just the concrete of the street and one identical semi-detached red brick house after another but the weather was beautiful; the sun shining, the sky perfect blue with not a single cloud. Yet it was bruised by the sight of an armoured car sitting down the street. He cursed under his breath. Some kids dared to go out to taunt two of the militia standing near it in their tiger pattern cammos and got a rock thrown at them for their efforts. “Bastards,” he muttered to himself. He was billeted in a house right near the factory like many others, camped out and crowded. He was one of the few who had a room, but it was little more than enough space for a bed, his shoulder bag, and to turn around enough to use his pisspot.

Since February, he had been on strike like thousands of factory across the city and the district in Etruria Major. The Union was trying to get more walk outs in other parts of the country but apparently the negotiations were dragging on. The acrimonious strike had dragged on three months now. He hoped things would be resolved in favour of the miners very soon and he would be back at work. But he knew the prospects of this were not so much slim as starved.

“We could talk to the papers, like you suggested at first,” he had grumbled to Uldis and his men, the Secretary-General and the staff. But Uldis had chuckled in a way that really annoyed him.

“Look Lem,” said Uldis as they spoke over mugs of hot sweet mint tea in the teashop crowded with workers nursing their bruises and worries after the strike had struck at them. “This here is a negotiation. And part of that is that we keep our noses clean. That means no one talks to the press without we negotiate that with the government. No fights. Nothing gets provoked.” He pointed a hard finger at Lem. “No one talks to the press without our go ahead!”

At the time Lemuel had been just frustrated and tired, worn out, nursing a blow to the head from one of the militia. Now he was stoked with anger by the sight of the armoured car, and by the sight of his people…not Uldis’, his!...out there waiting in the pickets, his turn to relieve someone soon…and the talk they had all had in the shop after Uldis left. Who was Uldis anyway? What did some blowhard from Nass know about it?

So when he got Eastman’s message, he thought about it a moment, and then sent a message. “I want to be an unnamed source or something. But I can put you in charge with those who have not promised nothing to nobody. I’ll meet you at Ombra’s, it’s a pastry shop on Quent Street…”

---

Uldis had replied brusquely but politely to Eastman that he would get back to him, gladly, in a day, after he had talked to the PR group at the Union HQ in Nass. “We can’t go talking off the cup, solidarity Mr. Eastman…” he had said. Then he had hastened to make sure that Lem Remigius was on the same page. The man was a firebrand. They needed such men but you had to keep them in check, all they saw was their own horizon. He was then off to a meeting with representatives of the Union Council to see what real solidarity he could rustle up, and then after that they’d hatch out a plan to talk to the Director-General of National Labour’s office.

The Ethnarch, Hiram Tyre, had ruled Port Autovia for more than a decade. He was an imposing man of fifty-three years who weighed just over two hundred and fifteen pounds, stood six foot three, and had a forty eight inch chest and a thirty six inch waist. He had a full head of dark wavy hair with just a little distinguished grey starting to show at the temples and very deep dark piercing eyes that could bore a hole through you if you were ever the focus of his distain. He also had a winning smile and a quick infectious laugh to go with an even faster temper. Overall he possessed the bearing of a man that should not ever be crossed at any time for any reason.

He had been known as Big Hiram since the first early days when he worked his way out of the Chrysotile mines to become the operations manager ever since there had been a lift accident and he had shouldered his way forward, then still a foreman, and barked “Stand aside” while the white helmets moved away, startled . From that moment on he took no nonsense from either the other engineers or the management. He knew what he wanted which was always what was best for his men and even better for him and that was the way it was always going to be—or else. And there were a number of or else moments at first. He surrounded himself with a small but dedicated group of very tough hardened men who would do anything that he asked of them. A rise to Operations Manager, then General Manger of the Mining Operations Zone, and then finally he was a natural to become Ethnarch. He had had a good Army record as an engineer before that. There had been a few occasions when someone considered going up against him and talked about it openly but they received a visit or two and then quickly changed their minds. It was simply not the healthy thing to do. Now there had been electoral reforms, but he had won his election as well and proved that it was the will of the people and the Lord that he should be Ethnarch.

He had been married years before to a local girl who was a local beauty with great looks and not all of the gray matter or common sense that she had needed to be partnered with Big Hiram. She had not been comfortable with Hiram's professional ways or his public philandering and had let him know it once too often and only once in public. Apparently soon thereafter she had suddenly decided to leave him for one morning the town awakened to discover that she was gone never to be seen or heard of again.

The companies loved dealing with him. With his equals he tended to be hearty with bonhomie though a bit intimidatingly physical, a sort of man who rested a huge arm over the shoulders, seemed a bit enthusiastic and potentially dangerous but friendly. With superiors it was different—he had to assess whether they could be intimidated too. The Governors were usually military men of good family and so he was polite to them and indispensable. He had learned such tricks from the Army, and usually they saw him as a good man they could not do without in Port Autovia. The current Ethnarch, Lieutenant-General Daniels, was a well connected man, related to the Director-General of the National Petroleum Corporation. Things could not get better.

So naturally he saw this affair at the Chrysotile Factory as a ‘spat’ that had gotten a bit ugly. They had shown whichever socialist bastards down there who was boss. They’d soon get hungry enough. He would tell people that the union thing was just the King and Queen wanting to seem nice for the sake of getting foreign business. It would all pass.

He walked into his sister's house with two of his beefy "assistants" right behind him. His sister was having her forty-fifth birthday party and a good sized group had gathered to celebrate with her. To honor Big Hiram's sister was to honor Hiram and that was an important thing to do in Port Autovia. He gave her a big hug and kiss on her cheek, greeted her husband who was a nobody at the factory, one of the public relations officers named Adrian Zerah, and then began working the room as was his nature. His twenty-two year old nephew Asa was there with his new eighteen year old bride Doria whom he had never before met and to whom he was instantly attracted to. Upon their introduction she looked at him with big brown doe like eyes and trembled a bit when he held her offered soft hand a bit longer than was customary. As he spoke with others over the next half an hour he continued to glance back at the eighteen year old woman and caught her eyes on him on a number of occasions. Some women were immediately drawn to him like a moth to the flames and she appeared to be one of those delectable ripe wenches…

His phone buzzed. He checked automatically wondering if it was the Militia Commander (who was a good loyal man but not much in the imagination department) but saw it was his press officer. “Go ahead Micah,” he said, rising and heading out to the throne room as he called the bathroom. “What? Eatman? Eastman? Yes? An interview? Alright, schedule one, but make sure you get him alone in a room with you first, got it Micah? Tell him I’m really busy but you’re going to schedule things with him in person. Invite him to your office as soon as he can get there—if he can get there this evening you’re working late, got that?”

“Got it boss,” said Micah.

Micah was a pro, and loyal. Loyal was key, though he was always aware that everyone had some kind of price, God watch them…

For Orin Tercel, the party was one of those never-ending affairs that he hated to attend but given his status in the current administration of the Chrysotile operations in the district, he must attend to honour the Ethnarch and his family. He could no more not do this courtesy than brush his teeth in the morning; discourtesy was unthinkable.



This particular get together was mostly for show so everyone who drew the short straw for their particular organizations came, sucked up the hors d'oeuvres of pate de foie gras or stuffed shrimp on crackers or whatever else was floating around on the platters carried by the painted waiters and washed them down with the flutes of champagne offered by the servers.

He was being bored to tears by a member of the city council talking about graffiti and how disrespect for private property was what led to socialism in the factory workers. He was trying to explain that it was not disrespect for private property but ignorance based on propaganda from rival foreign industries when he got, to his relief, a phone call. The councilor was talking about the enslavement to the cell phone as he excused himself.

It was a message from an Adiran man called Eastman. Within a short time he had talked to Aseph, who was on his houseboat fishing, and informed him of the situation. “I was also left a message,” said Aseph, bemused. “This Eastman is very efficient. We must act wisely. Let us get together tonight and discuss the matter. We must move slowly and carefully. Have you been there long?”

“Not long enough to leave,” murmured Tercel. “Not long enough to do so without being noticed.”

“The company will speak, not individuals,” decided Aseph. “We will have our PR Director explain that. Is he there?”

“He is, he’s kissing his lovely bride right now most decorously,” said Tercel, hiding a grimace of distaste.

“After cake and wine, you will leave and I will make sure you are extended an invitation to my houseboat,” decided Aseph. “This is a minor thing, but we don’t want this all getting blown out of proportion. This is an incident. Have a nice time.”

[New Aeyariss]

*** Port Autovia

A plane has recently touched down from the Empire of Greater Nifon, and it's passengers were slowly leaving to the local airfield, bathing in hot, arid sun of the evening that their fatherland had not. As one of last crew members left a middle aged gentleman in his early 30s, wearing an extremely costly smoking and flanked by two slim, but extremely well built men dressed exactly like him, each walking on one side and ready to do anything to protect their lord, not unlike Kusunoki Shigeharu and Date Mugen did 500 years before with his ancestor, alongside with simple man he hired before as a translator. Murakami Kichirou was one of youngest members of the Murakami clan that were active in the enterprises of the wealthy family and it's zaibatsu, currently holding a minor position on the board. He still was someone in the eyes of the Nifonese - after all, he was descendant of the great lord Murakami Kenshin who almost managed to unify Nifon during the Asuka Jidai, and today his descendants switched armor to costly smoking and swords into pens and set to conquer the market, with the same zeal and determination as ancient warlord's samurai conquered new domains.

In truth, Murakami came here to prove himself, being very interested in local Chrysotile deposits. Nifon on it's own had little natural resources, and those that were present usually were too small to be exploited with benefits to the Empire's economy. As a result, obtaining the natural resources became one of key points of Shogun Kojiro's economic policy, usually securing them thanks to large investments in developing countries in exchange for handing over the deposits, or simply confiscating them as "reparations" when the Imperial Nifonese Army destroyed yet another communist state. Most times however the Nifonese policy could be classified rather as "seduction" than "extortion" - Nifon had a long history of being able to use diplomacy and intrigue to secure what it needed.

Murakami arrived to his hotel room, and instantly after settling down ordered the translator to open local newspapers and translate them to him. He was interested in: name of the state run company, it's market value, how many shares were available, who was the manager, etc. etc. After all, local worker's riots were perfect opportunity to be exploited and a new deposit seized...

[New Edom]

Company Profile

Port Autovia Minerals Corp. is based in Port Autovia, Etruria Majora, a well known center of mineral exploration. The Company was incorporated as a nationalizedcompany in 1999 and began trading as a mineral exploration company in 2004 it joined the Terician Stock Exchange under the ticker code symbol 'PMC'. The Executive Director, Jacob Vulpe, is a very accomplished professional geologist who has been instrumental in the formation of the company and the acquisition and development of its mineral exploration projects.

The directors of the Company have a wide range of geological and mining expertise combined with business management and financial experience:

Executive Director Jacob Vulpe and General Manager Asa Aseph are both professional geologists, have been involved together in numerous enterprises including the Saint Simon Gold Mine in Teman and Frontier Tempesta Mining Corporation. They have over sixty years combined worldwide experience in exploration for a wide scope of minerals and the development of mines.

Financial Affairs Director Orpheus Zeno is a Chartered Accountant with over 20 years of extensive experience in areas of Corporate Finance, acquisitions and financial reporting.

Government Affairs Director Orin Tercel has worked as a diplomat in many regions throughout the world, and has been a financier, director and/or officer of thirteen public companies.

The company runs a Chrysotile mining operation as well as a factory complex in Port Autovia.

Total Assets: 21.3 million NSD

In the news, little was going on in the small city. An inter-city football tournament was loudly announced. The strikes were referred to as 'production delays'. It was advised that due to socialist demonstrations that visitors should be cautious about where they walked and take militia advice seriously.

The best hotel in town was the Royal Solomon Hotel, which had been specifically built for visiting government officials, foreign business travelers and the like. It was less touristy and more comfortable and very convenient. It featured a swimming pool, gymnasium, tennis courts so that people could work off some tension if they had to, but mostly it was quiet, elegant with good service, a mix of international and fine Edomite cuisine. It was near a golf course and the lake, which had a small regatta but was mostly full of house boats, good fishing, and pleasant villa style cottages which were often available for rent.

[Hittanryan]

To Eastnam's mind, management and the local officials were stalling, buying time until some kind of plan went into action. He'd seen it before. Public relations gives the press the run-around, repeating the official line, and then by the time the story goes out, the guilty party had covered things up or pressured the other side into caving. In a strike like this, with police and workers clashing on the picket line, the strikers could be beaten down through attrition and intimidation. No, Eastnam wasn't going to wait long. He agreed to meet with the company and government PR people, but explained further that he was on a deadline from his editors and would prefer to meet them before the end of the day tomorrow. If they couldn't meet before then, he would have to say that they were unavailable for comment, and given how that looks in the papers, he didn't want to give the wrong impression.

What he wasn't entirely sure of was the reason for the delay from Uldis. He allowed that the man could have been telling the truth, that he simply wanted solidarity and the union to be of one mind in its message. The fact that Remigius would only agree to meet privately, anonymously, however, was a red flag. Why the secrecy? There could be any number of reasons. This was New Edom, after all. It was perfectly reasonable, at least to Eastnam, to surmise that the unions were under some kind of surveillance. Uldis was higher up in the union, maybe he was being watched while Remigius wasn't? Perhaps a deal was already being worked out and Uldis didn't want to blow it? Maybe there was a difference of opinion within the union? Who could say? No one, until Eastnam met with Remigius and the Bishop.

He would meet Remigius at Ombra's today and the Bishop at lunch tomorrow, thanking both of them for their time. Eastnam did what he could to fit in, dressing more or less like a middle class local. It might've helped that he was one of those rare Adiran smokers; before he hailed a cab to take him over to Quent Street he was seen on the street outside the hotel with a cigarette. He left a bit early and didn't ask to get dropped off directly at Ombra's, walking a fair distance before looking for Remigius, whose face he knew from pictures of Papa Geryon's funeral.

Assuming Remigius was already seated at the cafe, he would greet him as politely as he could without saying his name too loudly. If Remigius invited him to do so, he sat down and got down to business. "Thanks for meeting on short notice. Saw what happened with the militia," Eastnam said gravely. "That's why I called you directly. Before we start, here's where I'm at right now. I talked to about a dozen people so far of those who testified with the union. I'm meeting Bishop Frith tomorrow for lunch. Uldis said he'll get back to me. I called the company and the ethnarch, pretty sure they're just going to give me a line through their PR people."

"Now, how do you want to do this?" Eastnam asked, inviting Remigius to comment or set limits and boundaries.

[New Edom]

Ombra's

Lem Remigius had picked Ombra's because it was in an area that was pretty normal to travel throgh. He was hardly an intelligence operative but he knew that if a militia or city official made a fuss about him wandering around there there were many plausible reasons for why he had been hanging around. He had plans to do a bit of shopping in the area for things he needed anyway.

Ombra's was also the kind of place where the kitchen staff could be heard yuelling and clattering about, people were bustling in and out wanting food and drinks. It served coffee, tea, soft drinks, pastries, soup, stew and other such ordinary things. He introduced himself and was surprised that Eastman seemed to be really interested.

At first he stared at Eastman blankly. He didn't know what to say now that he was there. Was Eastman a government or company spy?

He took a deep breath. 'I don't know what they told you, but I got other guys and women who can tell you about the same kinds of sickness. Some call it the Curse--because you can't easily figure out what it's from. But I think it's that dust. I read some studies about it at the computer cafe towntown by the library. Headaches and eventually your head is all full of cancer or something. Lungs don't work. It's that dust. Now e wll wanna wor, Mr. Eastman, we have families to feed and bills to pay. But we don't wanna get poisoned by the stuff either. We just want them to improve the conditions and give us danger pay so that we can put away some. Everyone gets a bit sick, everyone. So what can you do about that, hey?"

[Hittanryan]

Ombra's

Eastnam took out a pencil and notepad and laid it out on the desk. He then fished a cigarette out of his shirt pocket, offering one to Lem with a brief nod while holding the carton up. The irony of covering a story critical of one carcinogen while partaking in another didn't occur to Eastnam at the time. "Well, some more sources would be helpful. So far I spoke to..." he said, trailing off as he turned the page on his notepad and rattled off the names.

"First thing I can do is shine some light on this thing. If word doesn't spread, I think you guys might be in trouble. I saw the militia try to break the picket line yesterday. If nobody takes notice of your problem, they'll just come back at you harder next time. People might even blame you for any violence, even if management starts it," Eastnam said, taking a lengthy drag on his cigarette. "I could publish a story for ANBC International, but of course folks here might just look at it as foreign press. I'd rather get the story into a big Edomite paper."

"Another thing I can do is confirm what you were reading. I don't know if you found these online, I had to pay to order this article, but this is a medical study on chrysotile from Adiron. This one's from the Cambrai Medical Review, it's considered one of the best peer-reviewed medical journals in the country," he said, sliding the copy across the table. As he spoke, periodically he would point to one part of it or another. "This was what the Department of Labor cited when they came up with workplace safety rules. I couldn't follow all of it, gets a bit technical. Best I can tell though, inhalation of chrysotile fibers--the dust--that's definitely linked to cancer, same kind of thing that's happening here. Lung cancer, once it takes hold, can metastasize and spread. They were pretty thorough, they checked thousands of cases of workers and did testing on animals too. There's a bit more too, they checked other kinds of exposure, skin contact and whatnot, said it was inconclusive; the main thing is the dust."

"They concluded that the people most at risk are anyone who does construction work with chrysotile along those who work in mining and milling it--like you guys here in Port Autovia," Eastnam said, flicking some of the ashes off the end of the cigarette. "I've got interviews scheduled with the ethnarch and some company men. I planned on asking if they were aware of these studies before they made statements claiming chrysotile is completely safe. If you've got these studies, maybe you can use 'em at the negotiating table, I dunno what's going on there, though."

"I don't want to cost people their jobs, but it seems to me that the chrysotile market's not going away. Even in Adiron it's still used for fireproofing, even if new construction with it is banned. If the company says they can't afford to protect its workers, that it would be too expensive, that it would put them out of business, my guess is it's just a line. There's probably plenty of demand."

[New Edom]

Ombra's

"There's lots of chances for that dust to be around," Lem complained. "Blasting with explosives, block caving to crush it up. Then we dry mill it to separate the rock from the dust. Those fibers are fine, you gotta be careful with them. Well, we're good at it. Since we started developing our trade schools we have some of the best miners and manufacturers in the region! The ore is fed into a jaw crusher, and that squeezes the ore to break it up into pieces that are about 20mm or so. The crushed ore we dried to remove any damp.

"The ore falls on the surface of a vibrating mesh screen, which has openings that are less than a milimeter in diameter. As the screen vibrates, the loosened asbestos fibers rise to the top of the crushed ore and are vacuumed off. Because the crushed ore is much denser than the fibers, only the very smallest rock particles get vacuumed off with the Chrysotile."

Lem smiled. "I'm proud of working there Mr. Eastman, you see. I was so glad when I got that job. I've worked my ass pff for near to forty years as a miner. But now...after Papa Geryon...things have to change. So you give me that study. I appreciate it. What are you going to report though, wait till you have those other interviews? You should watch out for the Ethnarch in particular. He has a tough reputation. He's a real snapper, like an alligator snapping turtle..."

[Hittanryan]

Ombra's

"Sounds like there's dust damn near everywhere, could even be drifting out into the town," Eastnam said, handing over a copy of the study. "Yeah, I'm going to wait until I get those other interviews. They've handed me off to their PR people though. That's how it usually goes. I suspect I'll be told the same thing they've been saying all along. Now, when you say the Ethnarch is a tough customer, you mean tough as in quick to subpoena or tough as in breaking kneecaps?"

Once Lem replied, Eastnam added "I was also going to talk to Uldis, get the union's line. I assume he's just being careful. Anything I should know about him?"

"Once I get a few points of view, I'm going to report that the strikers are primarily looking to improve workplace safety standards to protect their health along with hazard pay for their families' sake. I was also thinking, for readers who aren't local, of explaining who Papa Geryon was, that he was a leader of the community who did good work, looked out for the workers but believed the company, and apparently succumbed to the same illness as the others. I'll also report that the company has denied the health risks for years; we'll see if they change their tune under a little scrutiny," Eastnam explained. "Would you like to add something to any of that?"

[New Edom]

Ombra's

"Sounds like there's dust damn near everywhere, could even be drifting out into the town," Eastnam said, handing over a copy of the study. "Yeah, I'm going to wait until I get those other interviews. They've handed me off to their PR people though. That's how it usually goes. I suspect I'll be told the same thing they've been saying all along. Now, when you say the Ethnarch is a tough customer, you mean tough as in quick to subpoena or tough as in breaking kneecaps?"

Lem raised his hands. "What can I say? Tough. If you rock his boat he'll drop an anchor on you. They don't call him Big Hiram for nothing. Big Hiram is really well in with the local militia, the government as is the local departments of the National and Provincial governments as is. Anything you want to build or sell, buy or advertise around these parts."

"The others, they run the company, and I guess one hand washes the other there. After all company needs a town to make things work, town needs the mining company or no coppers" he said pantomining shaking coins in his hand, a gesture Eastman would understand by now.

Once Lem replied, Eastnam added "I was also going to talk to Uldis, get the union's line. I assume he's just being careful. Anything I should know about him?"

Lem rubbed his stubbly chin. "I guess Uldis is alright. He's young, to me--one of these union fellows who owns half a dozen shirts," snorted Lem. "He is one of the new men of the Union--he is good with all the fancy talk and such. But he's supposedly gonna get others to strike in solidarity all over the province, maybe all over the country, get the Miners' Union down on our side. So maybe you can pin him down on that. A general walkout, that would make the company have to take notice."

"Once I get a few points of view, I'm going to report that the strikers are primarily looking to improve workplace safety standards to protect their health along with hazard pay for their families' sake. I was also thinking, for readers who aren't local, of explaining who Papa Geryon was, that he was a leader of the community who did good work, looked out for the workers but believed the company, and apparently succumbed to the same illness as the others. I'll also report that the company has denied the health risks for years; we'll see if they change their tune under a little scrutiny," Eastnam explained. "Would you like to add something to any of that?"

"Papa Geryon was a good man," said Lem a bit hoarsely. He toyed with his tea mug a bit, turning it around in thick rough hands with an odd delicacy. "A good man. You ever pass the hat around, he started the first coppers in the hat. He ran the floor for years, hated it when they stuck him behind a desk most of the time. Always a hand open, always a bow for everyone. He was a real Baran, salt of the Earth. But he believed what them people said, the experts..." Lem snorted bitterly. "And we didn't know the reason he was getting so worn down is the place was killing him." Lem looked up at Eastman grimly. "If that dust could take down a man like Geryon--a real [i[man[/i]...it can take down anyone."

[Hittanryan]

Ombra's

"Well, hopefully Papa Geryon gets some justice in the end. All right, I think that's all for now unless you've got something else..." Eastnam said, finishing jotting down a few notes. "Well Mr. Remigius--can I call you Lem? I'll let you go. Thanks for meeting. I realize the time might not be right at the moment, but when that time comes I do hope you'll reconsider going on record. Good luck out there." He went to offer a handshake, then remembered it wasn't Edomite custom and instead inclined his head.

If there was nothing further, Eastnam took a ride down to the local Internet cafe then back to his hotel room to prepare questions for lunch with the bishop and the meeting with the company people tomorrow. In the evening he went out to a local watering hole frequented by the workers. He had a beer or two, listening to the general mood and for any scuttlebutt about the previous clashes.

The next day Eastnam left early and took a roundabout route to the Bishop's, coming within about two hundred yards of the picket line to take pictures. If nothing happened on the line, he headed off to meet the Bishop.

[New Edom]

The Port Autovia Chrysotile Works

The rain splattered hard against the window glass. Tomas Kistomerces tugged at the ropes leading to the blinds and let it fall away, dropping the slats down to block out the miserable weather. The thought of being stuck inside the administration office building, playing watchdog held no appeal. It was embarrassing and strange to admit it, but he felt a gulf between himself and the others out there. Not just the sea of tarpaulins, a few umbrellas and other improvised shelter against the rain, but the camaraderie. He had never thought that being in the offices would be lonely.

“Look at all of them out there,” grumbled Mr. Tercel. Kistomerces jumped as the man had come up from behind him.

“Mr. Tercel, is there something I can do for you?” asked Tomas, his heart still racing, absurdly wondering if the Vice-Director of Personnel had read his mind.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Mr. Aseph and I would like you to be ready to deal with a foreign journalist who will be asking questions about the plant specific to the issues surrounding the strike. He may bring up Geryon’s death. There is some foreign research out there about Chrysotile properties. Mr. Aseph has assured me that these properties are questionable and that more research needs to be done. Well it’s all in this report. I want you to read it this evening and refresh your thoughts on these matters. We also have backers of this information at the University of Fineberg’s Chemistry Department and the Ministry of Health. You are to refer the journalist to these and higher management. What you are also doing is screening him. If there’s serious need for an interview set it up and we’ll manage it from there.” Tercel was a Baran and Kistomerces had an automatic feeling of desire to demonstrate his capability so he was nodding vigorously.

Tercel paused. “We don’t want Mr. Zerah to handle it. Not because he could not, but as you know he is the Ethnarch’s nephew, and we don’t want to project too much nepotism. So this is a good chance for you.”

“I understand, sir, I won’t let you down.” Yet when Tercel left his office, looking over at the road across from the administration building, where one of the access roads to the factory complex was still blocked by nearly four hundred strikers, he felt badly. Now the men he had grown up with virtually shunned him—admittedly with courtesy—and those above him were in a lofty world above his. Public Relations Officer was almost like being a man with no soul.

---

The Fat Sheaves Café was one of the businesses near the protesters’ positions so that at an alarm they could whisk back to the lines if need be while turning a shift. However if Eastman was observant he would not only notice good spirits but even sharing of food and drink and gossip between the strikers and members of the Port Autovia militia who were there. These were mostly young men with a sprinkling of women in dark blue tunics, trousers tucked into boots with billed caps and pistols and riot sticks which they seemed disinclined to use. People seemed optimistic if a bit drenched as they went out. The lines were holding.

---

The militia commander, Major Nathaniel Optimas, marched into the villa of Big Hiram Tyre, shown in by a servant, who indicated, “His Honour is in his private chambers and would speak with you there.”

Optimas was a storklike man with a long nose, long chin and large eyes, with tufted eyebrows and a meticulous uniform, wearing a kepi style cap, tunic, Sam Browne style black belt and straps and a sidearm. His uniform was immaculate. Carrying his cap under his arm, Optimas nodded to the servant and went through the garden to another set of doors and entered the private chambers where to his surprise Big Hiram was not found in his large neat private office. However there were a couple of doorways glowing against the faint light of the office. “Hello?” said Optimas.

“In here!” shouted Big Hiram from one of the doors. Optimas marched over there and into a bathroom. The Bathroom resembled a throne room, with the ‘throne’ in the far center, while around it were fine carved shelves with towels, robes, soaps, lotions, cloths, sponges and other niceties. A bath tub with steps leading up to the great sunken expanse showed one fit with at least four decent sized people, while in other areas of it were a beautiful marble sink, and a box style shower large enough for three with a bench in it. Optimas was appalled to see Big Hiram sitting on his expensive Cetian style toilet. Without his fine clothes he was a powerful man going to lard, his big belly sitting on his thighs like a hairy balloon, his once thick chest starting to pudding, and he grunted and strained. A bad smell filled the air. Big Hiram was also eating something and had a box of chocolates on his lap.

“What…” began Optimas in shock.

“Argh…” groaned Big Hiram. “There….argh! You are! A fine show you have made of it Optimas! Your militia could not stand up to a rabble of strikers! The men from the mines have joined in with them and the trucks could not get through to pick up the ore this evening! And more may follow! That wretch Uldis is crowing about it in Nass. Argh! Nass! Ah!” Along with a loud splash the stench increased. Big Hiram grabbed another chocolate, inspected it, and made a face. “Bah. Hazelnut. I hate hazelnut. You want this one?”

“Er…” Optimas tried not to look at Big Hiram. “No thank you, sir.”

“Suit yourself,” Big Hiram grunted. He fished around in the box and brightened a bit. “Ah, coconut, one of my favourites! Alright Optimas, here it is. I don’t trust your men!”

“Sir I protest!” cried Optimas. “My men have been excellently trained, they are very dutiful, regular church goers, tough as nails sir!”

Big Hiram popped the chocolate in his mouth and chewed and put the box on a nearby shelf. “Someone told me that not only did your men fail to break up the strike and assist my good friend Mr. Aseph’s strike breakers the other day, but they also are fraternizing with the damned socialists. So no, Optimas, I do not trust your men. This is making my office look bad.”

“Sir, I beg you to not send for the Governor’s forces to support you. I can handle this,” said Optimas. “Yesterday was just a setback.”

“You’re a fool, Optimas,” growled Big Hiram. Optimas swiftly turned his gaze away as he saw Big Hiram reaching for the toilet paper roll. Big Hiram went on, “I do not want the Governor to realize what a limp wristed weed you can be. I believe there is still a man in there. The man who valiantly led his platoon across the river against the Free Congress and was commended by King Mark himself. That man would not have suffered men under his command to be squeamish in the face of socialism ruining his town’s trade!” Big Hiram flushed his toilet and stood up and walked to the sink, both powerful and yet with blubber shaking like a male elephant seal. In odd contrast the sweet scent of lavender filled the air now as he washed and scrubbed meticulously and shook his hands. He snatched a towel and dried vigorously. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir, I do. I’ll whip them into shape sir. I’ll make sure that any of the sympathizers are on the far end of town. But er…you want me to try to break them again sir?” Optimas asked.

“Not yet. They have obviously planned this. They have to be broken inside first, Optimas.” Big Hiram pointed. “Robe!”

“Robe? Is that code for something…”

“Give me a robe you idiot!” roared Big Hiram.

“Oh er, at once sir, yes sir…” Optimas found a crimson coloured robe with black bordering. “Er…this one…?”

“Yes, Optimas. You know, the King wears one like this,” said Big Hiram, tying his sash with pleasure on his face. “The King, Optimas! Do you think King Elijah would tolerate a commander who cannot break a few strikers?”

“No, sir.” Optimas puffed out his chest. “I will make sure that the men are ready when you need them.”

“Good. Alright, Optimas, glad we had this talk. You’ll see yourself out, will you?” Big Hiram nodded to him and Optimas bowed and departed.

---

The Following Day, Bishop of Port Autovia's Residence

The home of Aloysius Frith, Bishop of Port Autovia was a modest villa style home with a quad style building surrounding a garden. Much of the garden was devoted to vegetables and herbs but there were also flowers growing there and a small pond that appeared to have turtles, crayfish and carp in it. The bishop and his daughter Hortensia welcomed him to the house in company with a pair of elderly servants. Mint tea, mango juice, tabouli salad, yam fatayers, goat biryani with pita and yogurt dressing were served on simple china plates and bowls and following a brief grace lunch was served.

The Bishop and Hortensia were very interested in Eastman. In fact they seemed in no hurry to get on with the interview but treated him as an honoured guest. They urged him to eat as much as he liked, and were interested in him. Was he married? Did he miss his family? Why had he become a journalist? What was it like being a journalist? How long had he been in New Edom? Did he like it? How did he enjoy traveling?

In turn, they talked freely. The bishop sadly spoke of how he had wrestled with his spirit and in scripture over the issue of whether or not to support the strike. “I am not a socialist, Mr. Eastman,” he said sadly. “I have never supported the Free Congress and have been the staunched of Monarchists. In fact I am the greatest admirer of King Elijah. I believe that New Edomite democracy must be a moral democracy which is led by Holy Scripture.” He contemplated his plate and poked at a tomato chunk. Then looked up with alert dark eyes. “And that is the crux of the issue. We must expect our workers to work and not shirk, but can we expect this if there is information that may save lives?”

[New Edom]

Study Summaries on Chrysotile Industry Risks

Submitted to the Ministry of Health of the Allied States of New Edom
and
The Directorate of Labour of the Ministry of Oil and Resources

Preamble/Summation:

The best scientists, experts, epidemiologists and researchers of the world from Adiron, Lazodiria, and other countries have drawn their attention towards asbestos again. Now, however, the point is quite different: the scientists are not opposing the use of the mineral, but supervising a great research project carried out by New Edomite specialists from the Ministry of Health. This research should be the most non-biased and independent in all factory’s history. The results will finally reveal if asbestos is really as harmful as it is supposed to be.

Although it is widely accepted that exposure to any asbestos type can increase the likelihood of lung cancer, mesothelioma, and non-malignant lung and pleural disorders, manufacturers and some chrysotile miners' unions contend that chrysotile either does not cause disease or that there is insufficient evidence to reach a conclusion. At the same time, Dr. Uriah Belmish has published several animal studies, financed by the National Chrysotile Institute, to determine chrysotile biopersistence in the lungs. Belmish's study protocol induces a very short fiber half-life, from which he concludes weak chrysotile carcinogenicity. Bernstein's findings contradict results obtained by independent scientists. Belmish's results can only be explained by an aggressive pre-treatment of fibers, inducing many faults and fragility in the fibers' structure, leading to rapid hydration and breaking of long fibers in the lungs.

What do we know today about chrysotile and all the asbestos fibres? In fact, we know many things, from their chemical composition, their properties and their potential health effects on humans. Because all asbestos fibres have been accused wrongfully or with reason – of being responsible for the death of many workers. Many scientists from all over the world have brought to light many nuances. Consequently, the understanding of the mechanism and conditions that provoke respiratory diseases after the inhalation of natural or synthetic fibres are well-known and documented.

There is overwhelming published data showing that the mortality rate experience of workers handling amphiboles is much higher than that of workers exposed to chrysotile fibres only.

In principle, a substance can produce the harmful effect associated with its toxic properties only if it reaches a susceptible biological system within the human body in a sufficient concentration (a high enough dose). The toxic effect of a substance increases as the exposure (or dose) to the susceptible biological system increases. For all chemicals there is a dose response curve, or a range of
doses that result in a graded effect between the extremes of no effect and 100% response. All chemical substances will exhibit a toxic effect given a large enough dose. If the dose is low enough, even a highly toxic substance will normally cease to cause a harmful effect. The toxic potency of a chemical is thus ultimately defined by the dose – the amount of the chemical that will produce a specific response in a specific biological system.

The workers extracting and transforming the fibre, installing and maintaining products containing asbestos were then exposed, for many years, to high dust concentrations and this, without appropriate respiratory protective devices. Inhaled in large quantities over long periods of time, asbestos fibres cumulate in the lungs and exceed the capacity of the body to naturally eliminate them. This is followed by a gradual diminution of the corrective action of the lungs. This phenomenon is called asbestosis. It might eventually provoke lung cancer or mesothelioma – another kind of cancer generally associated with asbestos. However, this biological process extends over a period of years (sometimes up to 40 years): this is called the latency period of the disease.

It is, because of this latency period that it is still possible today to diagnose new cases of respiratory diseases, and this, in spite of all the improvements concerning the exposure of workers to fibres in the workplace. Alarming reports of the rise of diseases linked to asbestos (at lar-
ge) have triggered intense controversy in Belisaria or parts of Ceti, especially in northern countries which, before the 1980’s, were big users of friable asbestos insulation and, too often, of amphibole fibres. In a nutshell, here is the genesis of the polemic concerning the use of all kinds of asbestos fibres, including chrysotile, the one that presents no real significant health risk when used in a responsible way.

When any natural or man-made fibrous respirable substances are inhaled, most fibres are expelled, but some can become lodged in the lungs and remain there throughout life. Fibres can accumulate and cause scarring and inflammation. Severe scarring and inflammation can affect breathing and increase the risk of lung cancer. Fast removal of a fibre from lungs decreases the risk of fibre-induced health effects. The ability of a substance to persist in the lung, in spite of the lung’s physiological clearance mechanisms and environmental conditions, is known as biopersistence. It is generally agreed that the durability of a respirable fibre is a major factor for the characterization of potential adverse health effects.

Chrysotile is cleared rapidly from the lung. Recent animal experimentations (2003 to 2006), performed according to the most stringent protocols, show that soon after chrysotile fibres are inhaled, they are quickly cleared from the lungs – in a matter of about 10 days.

However,amphiboles, which resist the acidic environment of the lungs, are not cleared as rapidly. The am-phibole fibres may remain in the lungs for periods up to a year or more.

The major difference between chrysotile and amphiboles is related to its chemical composition, its acid-resistant properties and its effects on health. In contrast with amphiboles, chrysotile does not persist in the lungs after inhalation; it is quickly eliminated by the metabolism. A prolonged exposure to high concentrations of chrysotile fibres, namely 20 years and more, is required for a clinical manifestation of pulmonary damage to appear. In the past, such high exposures were frequent; it is no longer the case today. On the other hand, because of their toxicity and their high biopersistency, amphiboles are mainly responsible for pulmonary diseases caused even after a short or a moderate exposure. Today, chrysotile is the only asbestos fibre commercialized under an efficient responsible industrial standard.

The adverse health effects due to high exposures of undifferentiated asbestos fibres should be attributed to the past, mainly because of very high exposures of amphibole fibres. In Acheron, Belisaria and Ceti, many traditional applications, such as insulation, called for a mix of chrysotile and amphiboles. Buildings and ships insulation were installed by means of pulverization of a mixture of chrysotile and amosite; and pipe lagging and large diameter asbestos-cement pipes required the use of crocidolite. This is fortunately no longer the case today.

The health risks associated with chrysotile exposure concern principally the workplace. However, the risks for the general population, if there are any, are generally “below detection limits”. With the implementation of a responsible-use program, maintenance and necessary precautions taken, fibre emissions from modern, high-density chrysotile products, such as friction and chrysotile cement materials, are minimal and do not constitute a measurable risk to the general population, to the workers nor to the environment.

submitted by
Dr. Jethro Yesod
Research Director of the Amphibole-Chrysotile Comparative Research Group
Geology Department
University of Fineberg
for the Ministry of Health

[TURTLESHROOM II]

Code: Select all

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

God have mercy. It's happening to you, too?! The Junta's answer to the matter is to kill the strikers if they refuse to cease tresspassing, or if they dare block traffic..

All of them.


[Neo Combine]

OOC: Seems interesting so far, I was wondering If I could join, the second question is, Could I get a brief resume of the situation?, with love, your favorite commie nation.

[Hittanryan]

Seeing the peaceful state of the picket line, Eastnam approached closer. He was reminded that this wasn't a large city, the strikers likely knew or were related to members of the militia. Although he considered doing a snap and run or taking a picture from a distance, he thought it prudent to ask permission this time. Approaching one of the more amiable groups, where he could see them sharing some food, he asked "You boys mind if I snap a few pictures for ANBC?"

He'd hoped to just catch a few candid shots, but wherever he pointed the camera they all started posing for portraits. Everyone seemed in high enough spirits, grinning, putting their arms around each others' shoulders, giving thumbs ups. Eastnam wondered if the militia were the same guys who tried to break the picket line a couple of days ago. Despite his curiosity, he decided not to bring that up and sour the mood. Chatting with them a bit, he kept any questions casual. "You guys know each other?" "See the game last night?" He was mostly just judging their mood, letting them talk, not wanting to put people on the spot.

Before departing he held out a packet of cigarettes to the group and thanked them.

---

By the standards of Eastnam, who was used to living in apartments, the Bishop's home was relatively lavish. After all, he had two live-in servants and a large garden outside. A place like this would fetch a premium in Adiron, and he judged it by those standards.

On his first assignments in New Edom he had already messed up in refusing hospitality, having disregarded his editors' advice. Now he knew he had to go through this ritual if he wanted to get his scoop. He introduced himself to the Bishop and his daughter, gladly took a bit of everything of the refreshments offered, and occasionally he found himself short on words for small talk a few times.

"No, not married, haven't really stayed in one place long enough to settle down, assignments have been all over, you know how it is."

"Family? Oh, yeah, mom and dad are doing fine, talked to them a few weeks ago."

"Why'd I get into it? Guess I haven't thought about why in a while. Well, there was this movie, about Bill Foster and Ed Barnette...they were these war correspondents who went all over Ceti covering the Civil War in the fifties and sixties..." he then briefly summarized the movie, which was a mid-eighties adventure flick.

Other than that he He further explained that he always liked traveling, and that he saw New Edom as a place whose future hadn't been written, especially given the last few unpredictable years. It was a land of contrasts and surprises, and that meant there would always be stories to write. Its society was also opening up, especially with the King's democratic reforms, and that included for the press. So he'd been in country for the better part of a year.

Eventually the Bishop finally spoke of the matter at hand. "I've talked to people and before I came here I actually went down to the picket line. Best I can tell nobody wants to make it about socialism. In fact, I snapped some pictures of the workers on the picket line chatting away with the militia, if you want to see," Eastnam said, digging out his camera and showing him on the little screen if he wanted to. "They're happy enough with the work, they want to work. They just don't want to get sick, which means they want the company to take appropriate safety measures. Sure, it'll cost the company some money, but it would be the moral thing to do, right?"

[Neo Combine]

Submitted to the Council of People's Commissars
and the People's Commissariat for Foreign Affairs of the SRNC

The situation in Port Autovia it's very simple and complex at the same time, at the beginning our agents went through a hard time trying to get information and go unnoticed like any other striker, so far this is the info we managed to collect:

-The oldest working man at the Port Autovia Chrysotile Factory named Papa Geryon died, friends and familiars claim that the materials used and worked in this factory caused some type of cancer that eventually ended his life
-Workers count with their local Union support and already got almost two months in an «uninterrupted» strike.
-Anti-riot forces are deployed in the area, so far only one major clash between the two forces.
-Neither the strikers or the government forces want to fight eachother
-Main claims in the striker faction are Dust reduction technology, improved health and safety equipment, safer factory workers and housing.

Final verdict: With a little support and radicalization, this strike could become a revolutionary focus in the region.

«Is that all comrade Commissar?» Asked Zaccharias Danesti Chairman of the Council of People's Commissars of the SRNC
«Indeed comrade,» Said the People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs of the SRNC.
«There will be international problems if we intervene too much, the inform says the workers are not willing to fight, comrade Zaccharias, I love the idea of a communist revolution in the region, but, what if we fail, what if the international community turns on us?» Asked one of the many politicians and Commissars in the meeting.
«The worst fight is the one never tried» Quoted Zaccharias.
«If there are oppressed and endangered proletariats in another country we got the duty to help them break their shackles even if this means radicalizing the fight from scratch.»

**The whole room nods in approval**

«Comrade Commissar of Internal Affairs, Comrade Commissar of Foreign Affairs, we must hinder any attempt at negotiation, we cannot afford to loose one day in useless speeches and diplomatic efforts that already showed inefficient in the past, our agents will receive all the material they need, they must distribute propaganda, quotations from the communist manifesto, distribute papers with the basic rights offered by the revolution, contact the most radical members of the Worker's Union and the most radical members of the Strikers, this will do the work, this will start the radicalization of the movement! but most important...» The voice of Zaccharias Danesti lost in the meeting room full of people running with orders and papers, the long way to a revolution was started.

Port Autovia (A couple of days )


Surprise was the best way to describe the feeling caused by the recent discovery in the huge industrial waste bins. Two bodies, first thought dead, the young lads were only heaviliy injured, one boy carried simple civilian clothing, the other boy was wearing his factory worker overalls, some people said they knew them from the recent strikes. Bruises in the skin, evident beating, bullet holes in the bin, no one injured by the shots, small caliber, obviously police caliber. Did the Militias carry fire guns? That didn´t matter, shouts of reprisal ran down the alley, no one knew that this was the work of the most radical volunteers of the labor union in collaboration with an agent of the SRNC, not even the K.O guys who only saw men in Militia uniform approach to them before everything went dark. In the opposite site, a heavily injured Militiaman was admitted to a clinic with heavy injuries, his comrades said they found him being beaten by local workers and strikers. The future reaction could not be guessed by anyone, maybe the efforts of the SRNC were in vain, but one thing was clear, the hook was already in position, revolutionary ideas already being distributed among the strikers, if one of the sides was willing to take the bait, it was matter of time for another clash between the two main groups, or maybe not.

[New Edom]

The Bishop's Residence

"Mr. Eastman, I believe that free workers in New Edom should have the right to campaign for their concerns," said the Bishop with a faint smile. "I do not know absolutely if the research they have gained from foreign universities is accurate. Just because a number of nations believe something to be true does not make it so. However it is clear in the Morality Act that a man must be treated fairly at his place of employment including agreed upon standards. It is one thing if a man is hired and takes a risk knowing it is a risk and accepting it. These men have been told that chrysotile poses no great threat to the long term health through long term exposure.

"Of course as you know I am also the chief magistrate of this city. And the case will be coming up soon of Workers v. Port Autovia Chrysotile Company. I cannot discuss too much evidence with you because that would be unethical. But I will say this: the workers have every right to strike and bring forth a lawsuit. Now on the other hand, the Ethnarch, Mr. Tyre, has every right to respond to a concern from upstanding citizens in the community to maintain law and order. The question before me will be simply to examine the evidence with my fellow magistrates based on what the Accuser and Defender present to me."

The Palace of the Ethnarch

The Palace had been the garrison headquarters for a Legion Cohort during the Cornellian Occupancy until 1866. Now it was a modest government house.

In New Edom, Accusers and Defenders (prosecutors and public defenders) work for the Ministry of Justice. They are appointed to Provinces and Cities as well as Districts proportionally to the population and the crime statistics. That is why Zachary Samson was working there with his assistants preparing the case.

“The overall situation,” he had reported to the Ministry, “Is that the Union appears to be firing a shotgun approach at the government and the company. The lawsuit is probably a tactic. It’s my intention to complete investigation with the goal of getting this case dismissed…”

A lot of his work involved reviewing the work of his assistants and clerks who did the actual research; he did not have so many cases as an Accuser might normally in a big city but he had enough to deal with. Samson had no intention of staying in Port Autovia any longer than he had to. One of the things that made a man’s climb smooth was leaving no stain of problems behind him. As a Dengali born man he had to use every trick in the book. He stood out visibly; almost always in Port Autovia the darkest skinned man you saw.

While Samson was at work, so was Optimas. He had called a meeting of his militia company officers and lectured them sternly. “We must put iron in the bellies of our people!” he had snapped at them as they stood at attention in his office. “We must not cajole the strikers! They are preventing people from going to work! They are preventing lawful commerce and labour!” he struck his palm with a thin fist. “We must be ready to genuinely break them! Why look at this!”

He showed them a picture from Eastman’s copy. “Thank the Lord this is only in Adiran news so far! A fine thing, militiamen with arms around strikers!”

“Be reasonable, sir” complained Captain Ashen, adjusting a thick round mint to his right inner cheek. It gave his words a wet noise that annoyed Optimas. “A lot of the boys and girls on the line know people at the factory…”

“Oh sure, Ashen,” sneered Optimas. “Let’s all be reasonable! Oh wait, here’s a thought, let’s do our duty!” he struck the desk and that hurt his fist and made him angrier. “Or I’ll find officers who can…”

However he was aghast at the news later that day. “My God,” he exclaimed, turning pale. “Who authorized this? Reprisals? Are you insane?”

“It wasn’t my boys, sir,” said Ashen virtuously, puffing out his chest. “They’d never do that.”

“You’d better make sure.” Optimas was about to launch an investigation when the door burst open; it was Big Hiram with two of his goons just out in the hallway. Both officers stood to attention. The Ethnarch was wearing his own dark civil service double breasted uniform that billowed into the room with him like a great black sail.

“Sir, about these two fellows who…”

“By God, Optimas, I didn’t think you had it in you!” crowed Big Hiram, coming up and putting an arm around him. “You’re a real Baran! Well done! That’ll strike fear into these damned commies! Now I want you training that riot unit round the clock, you hear? Let’s keep it obscure. Were you going to say something?”

“Er, I was going to investigate the incident…” said Optimas.

“Great!” Big Hiram said as though this was a vision from heaving, throwing up his heavy hands. “That’s perfefect! That’s your line, too, you hear me? Captain?”

“Yessir,” they both said. Big Hiram left and the door slammed behind him.

Optimas later that day issued a message on the town’s radio station that the City Militia were doing “Everything they could to find out who had attacked these young men. Thuggery will not be tolerated in Port Autovia!”

---

“Everything they can?” growled Lem Remigius in the Fat Sheaves with a group of other workers around him. He scowled and shook his head like an annoyed ox. “Those two boys were beat up so bad they could barely be recognized. Who would do that? Do we have muggings and crime here in Port Autovia like they do in Reme or Nass, boys?”

There was a chorus of nos.

“And this is how it starts…” Lem leaned forward so that they leaned in, as he looked from face to face. “This is how it starts. They start dividing us with fear. So here’s how it is from now on: we look after our own.”

“I dunno, Lem,” said Crispus, a middle aged lean worker, scratching his stubbly cheek. “Uldis, now, he said he was starting negotiations with the other unions and the rest of the miners and that they’d work on a general strike.”

“Crispus, this is not gonna get in the way of a general strike,” insisted Lem. “If anything, the more news there is the better! They’re gonna just try to make this all the negotiations in the shiny offices, we’ll get offered a raise, and everyone will be tired of not making any decent money and they’ll leave the lines. No. We must look after our own.”

“What do we do then, Lem?” asked another of the factory supervisors.

Lem looked up, his eyes gleaming. “We tell that foreign newspaper fella. He gets the story out. And when the world knows that poor lads just wanting to make a copper at the factory without dying of damned cancer get beaten up for talking about it and going on strike as the law says…well then. The lines will form in other places and they won’t dismiss us so easily…”

And that was what they did. One of the supporters of the strike, a local shopkeeper, rented out cell phones, and he helped them send photos of the injured youths and a report on what had happened. Who else, after all, carried pistols but the city militia?

[Hittanryan]

The Bishop's Residence

"Right, I heard they were filing a lawsuit," Eastnam said, taking a sip of his tea while taking everything down. "This could be an important case if it sets a precedent. Could mean a lot for the labor reforms that Count Lalery put into place as Finance Minister. Might make or break his bid for the Presidency. It could even potentially impact the Adiran election a bit if it has some kind of big impact on trade."

"Your Excellency, I have a few more questions. By the way, are we on record here now?" he asked. Eastnam then went one at a time, waiting for the Bishop's full reply before moving onto the next.

"I'm not really familiar with the Edomite legal system. Is there a legal precedent for this kind of lawsuit over working conditions?"

"Has a suit ever been brought against a national company before?"

"Do you have any thoughts on the attempt a few days ago to break the strike, force the picket line?"

"What do you think will happen if the union changes its current strategy of negotiation and starts moving towards a general strike?"

Once he had answers to those questions and followed up with them, he said "I've also got appointments with Secretary-General Uldis, a company spokesman named Tomas Kistomerces, and one of the Ethnarch's press officers whose name...escapes me right now. Anything I should know before speaking with them? Can I mention I've spoken to you?"

---

Regardless of what happened with his other interviews, when Eastnam heard over the radio of the attacks a few days later, he would've immediately jumped on the phone. First he called Lemuel Remigius. "Lem, what happened? A couple days ago the picket line was practically a picnic. Who got hurt? Where are they now? And what's this about a militiaman also getting hurt?"

Eastnam also called Uldis' office, likely reaching a secretary. "Yes, Eastnam here...right, I'm calling about the attacks. Allegedly there were two workers as well as one militiaman severely beaten. Is the union planning on cooperating with authorities? Who last saw the victims? Would they or their families be willing to answer any questions?"

Finally he called the Ethnarch's office and asked to be transferred to the militia commander. Presumably he ended up speaking to a PR officer. "Hello, this is Rod Eastnam with ANBC International, I heard over the radio that you're investigating these alleged reprisals against the workers and that one of your own was ambushed as well. Would it be possible to schedule an interview? I'm wondering if it would be possible to speak to the militiaman who was attacked as well as those who found him."

[Neo Combine]

Port Autovia
(Somewhere in the city lower districts)

«You are damn brilliant»
«Hey Carlos, did you hear me?» Claire was moving mountains of papers from the precarious industrial photocopier they had been able to get in the city to another room inside the little apartment, propaganda that would soon be distributed among the strikers.
«Eh, yeah, I mean, it was a simple bait,» said Carlos while reading the three variations of the propaganda, one talked about how the Capitalists did not care about the working conditions or their workers' health, the second one talked about the little chances of any improve in the conditions by the pacific means since the «Capitalist» won't accept any major change and used the recent incident as a proof of that and the last one offered the following things:

Jobs for the jobless!
Homes for the homeless!
Education for the masses!
Healthcare for the ill!
Food for the hungry!
Peace for the world!

The last propaganda piece also called to more action besides the strikes in a national scale to conquer these objectives.

Aside from this propaganda that was easily manufactured the two agents in Edomite territory only counted on local support, still no signs of Government funding or even protection aside from two old Makarovs.

«Still no mention of communism huh?» While the female agent in Edomite territory stood out a lot among the local population by her nordic factions, Carlos was the perfect man, an ethnic Arab, Spanish family whose family went to the S.R.N.C to escape Franco's dictatorship.

«Yeah, better this way, right? We can let them find out what are they really seeking in the end, that's the best way of introducing them to our liberation ideology»
**Carlos stood from the sofa, propaganda in hands, worker attires**


«Going to distribute these amongst the strikers»
«It won't be necessary, they will»
Before finishing the last sentence a group of tw- three young Edomites went into the apartment, some minutes later there was no propaganda in the apartment.
«For the moment this is the only active thing we can do while in here, at least until the government establishes proper institutions here in the country,» Said the female agent.
«This will make the trick, we are getting more radical strikers soon,» said Carlos with a smirk on his face.
Would it?

[New Edom]

Fineberg, New Edom

Dorian Uldis stood at the back of a large church as a number of naked parishioners came bringing gifts to the altar. He noted that the gifts were often goods—footwear, canned goods, tools, even electronics. One thing you could absolutely say of Sarah Carmel, leader of the Free Congress Party—she absolutely put her money where her mouth was.

A small, slight wiry woman with the body of a teenaged ballerina in spite of three children and middle years, she was one of those short energetic women who seem taller than they really are due to their presence. She had a narrow triangular face framed by dark brown hair to her shoulders, and her body was painted blue on one side and white on the other. Carmel had been Minister of Justice, Minister of Defense and briefly President of the Council of Ministers for the Theocratic Republic during the 3rd Civil War. Now her party was reduced to a minority, but she had never diminished being defiant. She and her family had given up all aristocratic titles and lived in an ordinary apartment as others did, making no difference between birth for anyone. That she had been popularly elected had demonstrated how admired she was. But now she was too radical for the large splinter of the old Free Congress, called the Peace and Harmony Party.

“Mrs. Carmel?” he said, bowing.

Carmel, who was walking with her husband, grown son and teenaged daughter, paused and stared at him. “Do I know you?”

“We’ve met before briefly, I’m Dorian Uldis, Secretary-General of the Miners’ Union.” He said.

“Yes, that’s right, you were elected last year,” she said. “You know my husband?”

“It’s an honour to meet you, Dr. Carmel, you’ve given the world a great gift of music,” he said with sincerity. “And it is much appreciated what you have done for the refugees and poor of this nation.”

“You’re very kind,” said the greying haired slim man with a smile. “Have you met our children, Gareth and Rani?” the two younger people bowed politely.

“Such an honour to have them presented,” said Uldis. “Mrs. Carmel, I hate to be abrupt, but I wanted to draw something to your attention…is now a bad time?”

She checked her watch. “A few minutes, Mr. Uldis. We are going to my son’s celebration of getting his army commission.”

“Of course.”

Uldis drew her aside within the church behind a pillar. “Mrs. Carmel, are you familiar with the mining operations in Port Autovia?”

Sarah Carmel pursed her lips. “I have a feeling you’re about to tell me. I don’t really like riddles, Mr. Uldis.”

“Of course not, please excuse me. I thought you’d like to know first: there’s been a strike there about the conditions of the Chrysotile Mining Company. Now: asbestos is a dangerous mineral that can cause cancer. There are problems with the safety conditions and it is giving people cancer. The miners have done a walkout and strike, and I’m going to be calling for the rest of the industry to follow them. But I could use your cooperation. And I think that you are exactly the right sort of person to be a strong ally to the union.” Uldis showed her a large manilla envelope. “Please feel free to take it, this is all the information. The front page is bullet points.”

Carmel glanced through it. “It sounds very serious. I thought that the University did a study on this and pronounced it fine?”

“Just the industry trying to stay competitive,” he said with a snort. “And trying to avoid incurring any more costs.”

Carmel put the papers back in the envelope and tapped his chest with it. “If I think you’re messing around yourself I’ll eat your balls for breakfast. I still have friends in the Ministry of Police and I’m going to have this checked out. Who’s in charge of the union down there?”

“A fellow called Lem Remigius. He has a good heart but…a lot of his brain is loyalty to the locals and muscle. He’s not really very political, he just wants to protect his people. He won’t be able to control them if things go radical or they start to get paid off,” explained Uldis. “I’ve dealt with his sort before. Mrs. Carmel, there’s a new, bigger constituency for you out there. I…hope that you will consider working together on this.”

Sarah Carmel nodded briskly. “You were right to come to me. Very well, expect my call this evening.”

---

The Minister of Police, Major-General John Ashdod, was sitting in a large office, which was rectangular and required a person to enter at one end of the rectangle and move farther down to a waiting large desk. It was almost like entering a tunnel. Ashdod had only one portrait on the wall--a huge one of the King and Queen standing together side by side, looming above him. Other than that the walls were bare except of geometric painting almost like a rail station. A neat carpet on the floor seemed to absorb sound. Apart from the desk and a chair, the only furniture in the room was a large water jug on a stand. He was a balding man, with a head almost tonsured, a neat short moustache and usually wore either a three piece suit or a dark uniform with his ribbons displayed.

A younger man, Colonel Sindrik, entered and bowed, then advanced to the desk. "Your Excellency."

"Sindrik, is there something that should concern me about Port Autovia?" asked Ashdod rudely.

Sindrik flushed at this indication of displeasure from his boss. "There's a miner''s strike. A minor miner's strike," said Sindrik, attempting a chuckle. "But it's nothing."

"Nothing? Why?" asked Ashdod.

"Port Autovia is governed by the Ethnarch Tyre, he's a good man, solid, loyal, dependable, tough. He doesn't stand for nonsense. Our man at the Governor's office assures me of that," said Sindrik. "There have been no deaths. The mine company is working with the Ethnarch to resolve the matter. There will be a meeting with the union secretary-general. We anticipate no difficulties. The miners probably just want a raise. you know how commoners are."

Ashdod said, "I found out that socialist literature is being distributed among the workers."

"How do you know that, Excellency?" Sindrik exclaimed.

"I know, Sindrik," said Ashdod. "I want you to know. I want to know more about what is going on down there. Before there is a problem. When I meet with the other ministers, I want to know everything about what is going on there. I want to know if Ethnarch Tyre really is handling things. I want to know if we need to send people there and take care of business. I don't want to go to the Council of Ministers and tell them that there are problems I cannot fathom. That would mean you had failed me."

"I understand, Excellency." Sindrik pretended to be concerned, but the truth was that the Old Man was a worrywart. There was a perfectly good system to deal with union concerns that Count Lalery had developed, and thus far, it worked. However he bowed submissively and departed, and decided to hand it off to one of his deputies to look into.

[New Edom]

The Bishop's Residence

"Right, I heard they were filing a lawsuit," Eastnam said, taking a sip of his tea while taking everything down. "This could be an important case if it sets a precedent. Could mean a lot for the labor reforms that Count Lalery put into place as Finance Minister. Might make or break his bid for the Presidency. It could even potentially impact the Adiran election a bit if it has some kind of big impact on trade."

"interesting that you should mention that. It could go either way. You see, General Nicanor was a commander for the Free Congress in the First and Second Civil Wars. Count Lalery is a Monarchist. But these things do not always come out neatly after the end of negotiations and peace time. It may be that their positions become ironically reversed or...well...that they are true to a deeper nature."

"Your Excellency, I have a few more questions. By the way, are we on record here now?" he asked. Eastnam then went one at a time, waiting for the Bishop's full reply before moving onto the next.

"I have nothing to hide, Mr. Eastman," said the cleric benignly.


"I'm not really familiar with the Edomite legal system. Is there a legal precedent for this kind of lawsuit over working conditions?"

"There is. Indeed, the hiring of employees is recorded in the Torah, which is the source of inspiration for the Christian inspired Morality Act, and the traditions which have followed from it. These have been updated to modern times several times including last year with the Labour Reform Laws. But er...the details lack a certain precedent in the context of a union being involved. That's new." the bishop explained.

"Has a suit ever been brought against a national company before?"

"Not by a body of workers, not in this way," said the bishop.

"Do you have any thoughts on the attempt a few days ago to break the strike, force the picket line?"

"Only that I have required that the matter be investigated and that if there has been illegal proceedings, there must be a formal accusation after finding out who gave the orders and was responsible," said the bishop gravely.

"What do you think will happen if the union changes its current strategy of negotiation and starts moving towards a general strike?"

The bishop pursed his lips and folded his hands over his stomach, thinking. "Then it may be beyond the scope of my authority to determine any outcome," he said finally. "I am highly committed to justice. But if it is a general strike, then it will be under the authority of the governor or the national government."

Once he had answers to those questions and followed up with them, he said "I've also got appointments with Secretary-General Uldis, a company spokesman named Tomas Kistomerces, and one of the Ethnarch's press officers whose name...escapes me right now. Anything I should know before speaking with them? Can I mention I've spoken to you?"

"I am very glad to have met you, Mr. Eastman. I hope you enjoyed our meeting as well. Er...do give them my warmest regards, hmm?"

---

Regardless of what happened with his other interviews, when Eastnam heard over the radio of the attacks a few days later, he would've immediately jumped on the phone. First he called Lemuel Remigius. "Lem, what happened? A couple days ago the picket line was practically a picnic. Who got hurt? Where are they now? And what's this about a militiaman also getting hurt?"

"Right now they are at an emergency clinic, I can give you the address," said Lem. "I don't know. People lose their tempers sometimes, i'm looking into it. It was not a part of a plan, I'll tell you that much."

Eastnam also called Uldis' office, likely reaching a secretary. "Yes, Eastnam here...right, I'm calling about the attacks. Allegedly there were two workers as well as one militiaman severely beaten. Is the union planning on cooperating with authorities? Who last saw the victims? Would they or their families be willing to answer any questions?"

The secretary agreed to pass on the message, but Eastman was called back later by a man from the office named Kasel who said he was the Press Officer. "Mr. Eastman, we think things just got out of hand, as they will. This is New Edom, you know. You can't just go from civil war to baklava all round! I'm amazed things are as good as they have been. Mr. Remigius has told us things are well in hand. Mr. Uldis is looking forward to meeting you..."

Finally he called the Ethnarch's office and asked to be transferred to the militia commander. Presumably he ended up speaking to a PR officer. "Hello, this is Rod Eastnam with ANBC International, I heard over the radio that you're investigating these alleged reprisals against the workers and that one of your own was ambushed as well. Would it be possible to schedule an interview? I'm wondering if it would be possible to speak to the militiaman who was attacked as well as those who found him."

Eastman was put through to an officer who informed him that there would be an interview scheduled. The commander, Major Optimas, was anxious to assure the citizens of Port Autovia that he was entirely behind law and order for everyone. "We are a democracy now, after all, Mr. Eastman. Right now we're still investigating and we don't have any information for you. When we do you'll be among the first to know when it can be released to the public without compromising an investigation. And the Major or his deputy will be glad to speak with you...let's schedule something now if you like..."

[New Edom]

Port Autovia

"For years, people have demonstrated," said the young student with the bullhorn facing a large crowd of workers and students who had arrived in town the previous day. "We demonstrated...and nobody listened. Then it came to the First Civil War, and then they listened! And we had Father William, and Mrs. Carmel, General Pahath-Moab, General Nicanor, Mr. Kohath and others who vowed to Christian Socialism! I'm going to call it by its proper name! The Free Congress was an umbrella for all the Christian socialist movements! And let's not forget the Unionists! Yes! My father was a Unionist!" there was a smattering of applause but also some uncomfortable muttering and worried looks; a mixed response.

"Well, we have gotten a lot of what we wanted but now they're trying to roll us back. We got the Agriculture Reform Act! Any group of citizens may form an urban farm and be free of the market driven prices for food so we don't have to starve. But in practice, it's held back in places like this because the Ethnarchs control the zoning of our towns and cities, so you have to work in conditions that make you sick and exhausted so you can make a living. You have unions, though, and now it's time to test them. I'm here to tell you that the Students' Socialist Union of New Edom is with you! We have members of the Young Free Congress with us as well! We ant fair wages, fair working conditions, better health care, better responses to your safety concerns, and an improved national workplace safety plan with fair compensation..." he had to pause for the applause and cheers that suddenly broke out. "And we are not going to rest until you have those conditions! Because we are brothers and sisters and we stand with you!"

Lem Remigius muttered, as he stood on the sidelines in the crowd watching this, "Who is that firecracker?"

"Some smart university boy, but he's talking sense," said one of the other striking supervisors.

"I've just come from Miners' Union HQ in Nass, and the word is in: they're voting on a general strike! So friends, stand firm! We're with you!"

The young man was named David Venn, and he was an economics and politics student from Reme University.

[Neo Combine]

Port Autovia
Just above the «Socialist» demonstration.

«So how did we managed to get access to this office?» asked Claire while emptying out of the window the last box full of new variations of the propaganda leaflets. «I thought we still lack monetary help from our comrades in the S.R.N.C»
«You see, the conversion rates are quite interesting, there's your answer, that is how I got us this» As fast as his hands allow him, Carlos takes out a small and cheap loudspeaker of his bag, an USB and a button later there are propaganda leaflets falling from the window with «The Internationale» in the background, just in perfect coordination with the Socialist demonstration, the strikers could hear The Internationale and read the leaflets while still excited by the little speech.

«And there go our last resources, we won´t be able to act anymore, at least while we wait for monetary support from the S.R.N.C and that will take a while, at least we already did our move»

«And I think we just got some very needed local support by chance, we must meet with the young lad,» Said Claire while walking towards the door and finally closing the office.

The office was left as it was found except for the loudspeaker at the window. This would be the last action of the S.R.N.C agents for some days.