Aardvark

The mine was the heart of the town. Not the soul, but definitely the heart. It was underground, out of sight mainly other than for the few buildings above the main shaft. You heard it as soon as you stopped and paid attention. Somewhat comforting but somehow just a little annoying. Nevertheless the day it stopped the absence of that dull, regular beat was deafening. It was not a state of existence that the town could easily contemplate lasting for long. 

What we mined here was not particularly precious in it’s own right and it was not easily won.  It was, like blood, the very stuff that lets all the other things we need come to life. But the mine not only gave life it also took it. Every day we entered that mine we fed it just as it fed us. We hoped each day that we would be released back above ground as reward for our honest labour and intentions. 

We elected our organisers. Those that gave instruction and direction had all spent time underground and still would if they had to. Although we each had our tasks we also knew what each other’s tasks were, how each was intricately important to the other. We all succeeded or there was no success and we understood that. We were a self governing bunch focused on getting our plunder above ground and living to do it all again tomorrow. We, the town, depended on this mutual organisation to survive. Survive not only for any one particular day but also to put some aside for the tougher times that surely come. 

Of course it had to happen, there had to be those who wanted to tell us how to mine a better way, mine deeper, mine faster. We wanted none of it. We couldn’t live with having to bargain with more than just the earth itself. We left quietly, watched as the new machines went underground and we waited. They mined incessantly, without break, without hindrance, without care. They attacked the mine from several directions at once in an open onslaught. There was no seduction, time was the most precious commodity of all and manners had no place.

We were mighty pleased to not be down there. We heard the stories of men and machines clawing at the earth as if it must bend to their will immediately. No patience and very little planning it seemed to us. The mine hummed along nicely though, right up until it stopped.

We heard it stop, or rather couldn’t hear it going. There was a sickening rumble, a siren, talk of men trapped. We all helped but it was months until we got to the last of them, buried with their machines. To us they had been strangers but there was not one amongst us who wished that end on them. Their bosses seemed surprised that it had gone wrong. We could have told them but that was not going to bring those men back. 

The mine proved to be unworkable after that. The intricate and carefully laid out tunnels that had taken several lifetimes to construct were ruined and gone for good. The machines, bosses and accountants left. They were pleased to be free of it and we were pleased to be free of them.

Each of us, all of us, had been well paid for our share of the mine when Aardvark Mining took over.  Together we all bought the large parcel of waste land directly to the east of the town. We had been quietly working it, poking and prodding our way along unheeded. With Aardvark gone we would openly start on the deep deposit we had found there. 

The town will hum again underneath, provisions for the future will be laid down again.