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Fluff
Part One
Part 1.
It didn't take long for the rumour to get around. That's a thing that happens in small, rural communities. Rumours spread quickly. "The mine was going under." Which would be ironic for a deep shaft mine. "The seams have been exhausted." Which would also be ironic for the miners that had tirelessly dug them out for generations. As quickly as the rumours ran the the quicker the mob gathered.
They congregated around the foreman's cabin. The men of the day shift, still covered in dirt, accompanied by their families and nearly all of the townsfolk, who's livelihoods depended on the miners income. They were quiet and respectful as they waited, disbelief ruling their hearts even though resignation ruled their minds. They waited with tight, sickly knots in their stomachs for the confirmation they dreaded. The mine was the epicentre of life. It's opening, many decades ago, was the birth of the town. Everything else here was supported by its being. Without it, and the jobs it secured, nothing else would long survive.
The foreman eventually came and opened his wooden door and remained stood on the threshold. The cabin was slightly raised above the ground and gave him a commanding view of the crestfallen gathering. He cleared his throat.
"I guess you all know what the bad news is" his croaky voice depressing said, "Well, it's true."
The crowd grumbled.
He carried on a little more stately. "As of tomorrow the mine will cease all mining activities and will be permanently closed. I've arranged redundancy payments for the whole workforce, it's not a generous payout but I've also secured a promise that the sale of any mining equipment will be shared out too."
He hoped the last part would help placate the townsfolk. He'd fought hard to get that small concession out of the greedy hands of the mine owner during their last meeting. Of course, it helped himself out too because, sure as centaur shit, he was out of a job along with them. He dared to think that maybe he could come out of the next day or so without becoming too much of a boogeyman and keep his reputation for fairness intact. If he could keep the townsfolk sweet then maybe he would encounter less friction and he could get some cogs moving. That's what he knew he needed. Some good cogs. Because he had a plan. Put the right cogs in the right place and in the right order and maybe he could get the plan moving. A plan that might just save the town and make them all very rich.
It didn't take long for the rumour to get around. That's a thing that happens in small, rural communities. Rumours spread quickly. "The mine was going under." Which would be ironic for a deep shaft mine. "The seams have been exhausted." Which would also be ironic for the miners that had tirelessly dug them out for generations. As quickly as the rumours ran the the quicker the mob gathered.
They congregated around the foreman's cabin. The men of the day shift, still covered in dirt, accompanied by their families and nearly all of the townsfolk, who's livelihoods depended on the miners income. They were quiet and respectful as they waited, disbelief ruling their hearts even though resignation ruled their minds. They waited with tight, sickly knots in their stomachs for the confirmation they dreaded. The mine was the epicentre of life. It's opening, many decades ago, was the birth of the town. Everything else here was supported by its being. Without it, and the jobs it secured, nothing else would long survive.
The foreman eventually came and opened his wooden door and remained stood on the threshold. The cabin was slightly raised above the ground and gave him a commanding view of the crestfallen gathering. He cleared his throat.
"I guess you all know what the bad news is" his croaky voice depressing said, "Well, it's true."
The crowd grumbled.
He carried on a little more stately. "As of tomorrow the mine will cease all mining activities and will be permanently closed. I've arranged redundancy payments for the whole workforce, it's not a generous payout but I've also secured a promise that the sale of any mining equipment will be shared out too."
He hoped the last part would help placate the townsfolk. He'd fought hard to get that small concession out of the greedy hands of the mine owner during their last meeting. Of course, it helped himself out too because, sure as centaur shit, he was out of a job along with them. He dared to think that maybe he could come out of the next day or so without becoming too much of a boogeyman and keep his reputation for fairness intact. If he could keep the townsfolk sweet then maybe he would encounter less friction and he could get some cogs moving. That's what he knew he needed. Some good cogs. Because he had a plan. Put the right cogs in the right place and in the right order and maybe he could get the plan moving. A plan that might just save the town and make them all very rich.
Part 1.
It didn't take long for the rumour to get around. That's a thing that happens in small, rural communities. Rumours spread quickly. "The mine was going under." Which would be ironic for a deep shaft mine. "The seams have been exhausted." Which would also be ironic for the miners that had tirelessly dug them out for generations. As quickly as the rumours ran the the quicker the mob gathered.
They congregated around the foreman's cabin. The men of the day shift, still covered in dirt, accompanied by their families and nearly all of the townsfolk, who's livelihoods depended on the miners income. They were quiet and respectful as they waited, disbelief ruling their hearts even though resignation ruled their minds. They waited with tight, sickly knots in their stomachs for the confirmation they dreaded. The mine was the epicentre of life. It's opening, many decades ago, was the birth of the town. Everything else here was supported by its being. Without it, and the jobs it secured, nothing else would long survive.
The foreman eventually came and opened his wooden door and remained stood on the threshold. The cabin was slightly raised above the ground and gave him a commanding view of the crestfallen gathering. He cleared his throat.
"I guess you all know what the bad news is" his croaky voice depressing said, "Well, it's true."
The crowd grumbled.
He carried on a little more stately. "As of tomorrow the mine will cease all mining activities and will be permanently closed. I've arranged redundancy payments for the whole workforce, it's not a generous payout but I've also secured a promise that the sale of any mining equipment will be shared out too."
He hoped the last part would help placate the townsfolk. He'd fought hard to get that small concession out of the greedy hands of the mine owner during their last meeting. Of course, it helped himself out too because, sure as centaur shit, he was out of a job along with them. He dared to think that maybe he could come out of the next day or so without becoming too much of a boogeyman and keep his reputation for fairness intact. If he could keep the townsfolk sweet then maybe he would encounter less friction and he could get some cogs moving. That's what he knew he needed. Some good cogs. Because he had a plan. Put the right cogs in the right place and in the right order and maybe he could get the plan moving. A plan that might just save the town and make them all very rich.