Surgeshapers

Dragon surge is the extraterrestrial energy that flowed through all living organisms of the new ecosystem, as the elders called it but for Arne it was the only ecosystem he had ever known. Arne had a hard time imagining that once upon a time, they lived on the surface, under the light of the sun, and the lands were covered with endless fields of crops and something called forests. The old forests seemed to be a bizarre idea, since they were made of real living trees instead of crystal pillars that now covered all land outside.

The surge flowed through these pillars, but only a minimal amount. The true source for harvesting the surge were the dragons. Arne had never seen one alive before, but only from the pictures taken by expeditionaries. Terrible creatures of a myriad varying varieties, all of which attempted to devour any form of earth-based organisms at sight. However, their bodies vesseled enormous amounts of Dragon Surge. This is where the Venators came in. They went on hunting expeditions to hunt dragons and harvest their surge.

This surge was then brought back to the Sanctuary and distributed among the Surgeshapers, who were people with the ability to shape the surges. One of their kind were the Kindlers, who radiated the fields to facilitate photosynthesis. They usually worked for a few hours before the dawn and left before the workers arrived. Surgeshapers did have the uncanny aura to unnerve people around them.

Arne had seen them a dozen times through the course of years, but couldn't help gawking like a child. Finally a loud voice from behind broke him from his spell.

"Stop drooling and get over here!" It was overseer of sector A3, Oldman Haffgir. He was Arne's direct superior and therefore, had the authority and an irresistible urge to yell at him. Arne looked at him and jogged in his direction. Haffgir sat on his automobile, which was commissioned to all overseers to get to their posts early.

"Good Morning, sir" Arne wished.

"You are before time again." Haffgir noted, "Trying to hoard two month's pay in one?"

"No, sir, not at all." Arne replied.

"Hop on then." Haffgir said.

"Sir?" Arne asked, sounding confused. Having an automobile in a sanctuary was a privilege given to only those with a specific set of duties. And it was rare for someone to offer a ride, Haffgir of all people of that.

"Got stones in your ear?!" Haffgir yelled, "I said hop on. You can do more work if you don't waste time walking to the sector."

Arne smiled and climbed up the automobile, sitting cross legged on a platform behind the driver's seat. The automobile accelerated, gaining speed. Arne felt the breeze blow against his face, although the air inside the Sanctuary was usually still except for the places near the vents.

Within a few minutes, they reached the patch of land called sector A3, one of the fifty sectors that filled the cavern called the Farming quarters. Each sector had an area of one square kilometer and each group of sectors was allotted specific crops and livestock. The A-sectors grew wheat, which along with barley and potatoes, formed the staple diet of the Sanctuary.

Haffgir parked beside the entrance of a large warehouse and gestured to Arne to get down. Arne obliged immediately and jumped down. He saw a glowing figure in white clothes strolling towards the warehouse. It was their Kindler, a woman named Farna. Arne turned back to Haffgir.

"Thanks for the ride, sir." He told Haffgir.

"Don't waste time and get to work now." Haffgir told, "Oh, and before that fetch the Kindler some water. Then meet me at the shed, I'll give you today's work details there."

Arne nodded and hurried to the water tank allotted to the sector, filling out a jug with clean water straight from the aquifer below. Then grabbing a glass from one of the resting tables, he rushed to Farna, pouring some water into the glass for her. She took the glass and nodded absentmindedly. There was something wrong with the air about her. Her glow had begun fading but something didn't feel right.

Surgeshapers had a tendency to grow senile due their use of the Surge. Not all of them suffered from this affliction but rates among the Kindlers were infamously high. Farna finished the water and handed the glass back to Arne, then continued walking along the fields to her quarters which were somewhere near the centre of the cavern.

It was unsettling to watch someone who dedicated their lives to make sure the people of the Sanctuary were fed, descend into mindlessness. Fortunately, this didn't happen to all the surgeshapers.

Arne shoved these thoughts out of his mind and headed for the storage shed, where he collected the work detail from Haffgir. Then he began the day's work. It was nothing out of the ordinary. Stacking wheat into stacks, then counting those stacks, then hauling those stacks onto carriers that transported them to the threshers. It was hard work, but it also cleared Arne's mind off anxiety and worry. Later that morning, he was given charge of a group of new workers who had to harvest some ripened wheat. Supervision jobs were becoming more and more common for him by the day. He was only nineteen afterall, one year more before he was old enough to get an official promotion.

Time flied like wind, and it was lunch time already. Beeping of the horns indicated that.

"Alright, lads and lasses," Arne clapped, catching their attention. It felt weird to say that since most of them were around his age. But when supervising, Arne tried to mimic Haffgir, "Take a break, have some food and water. But don't linger around for too long and get your lazy asses back here as soon as you are done!"

Some of them laughed, they enjoyed Arne's imitation of the irritable overseer, while the others walked away without reacting, too tired from the work to let out a response. Arne had been there six years ago, when he chose to work at the fields, walking away with calluses in his hands and his body devoid of any strength. But he had outgrown that weakness with time.

Arne left the field and walked towards the eating shed. Reaching there, he found a group of men wearing white and green waiting at the door.

"Arne Karlsonne?" asked the man wearing a wide brimmed hat.

"Yes," Arne answered, "That would be me."

"Kindly follow us," he said, "It's about your father."