In terrible shape, SbUg walked into the mines. There were shards piercing his malnourished back, and he looked as if he were about to collapse. It might not have been hard to confuse him for a corpse, if he wasn't moving.
The main hall branched off into many tunnels; the effort of years of the miners' work was really showing. Each tunnel looked like it had no end, and branched off into at least two more.
There were various goblins getting headed to their stations. Some held pickaxes, others were cart pushers that acted as the leaders of those with pickaxes. The ones with pickaxes, colloquially termed as diggers, would collect concrete from the walls of the mines. Some concrete was more tough than others, and would earn the group that collected the high-grade concrete some extra money.
If your group did especially well, measured by a score, you would earn extra benefits. Quality was valued over quantity in this score, rewarding groups that found higher grade concrete. The top scoring group even got raises or other benefits, surprisingly. SbUg just assumed that high-grade concrete made much more money than low-grade; it wasn't like Lug to reward them fairly. He was the one getting the real paycheck, after all.
Lug sat near a steel platform that acted as an elevator with the help of ropes. There were countless wooden crates near the platform, which mining groups would have their concrete stored in. Processor goblins would determine the quality of their concrete, and sort it into a box with a label of low, medium, or high based on it.
SbUg didn't really know why they were collecting concrete from the mountains, as the concrete layers beneath the surface would naturally replenish in mere days. He just assumed that Lug -- his boss -- would export the concrete to the city of Concretia or other smaller settlements.
He walked over to the check-in desk, and the receptionist looked at him in disgust. The receptionist was his boss's brother, after all. City folk only cared about taking advantage of slumrats like him for money. He didn't care what he thought of him though. At least he was getting something for being taken advantage of.
"Can you just sign me in... please?" SbUg asked dejectedly.
The receptionist was almost in a trance of disgust due to his terrible looking condition before he asked that. He was snapped out of it quickly though, now only looking at him with major disgust instead of extraordinary.
"What's your name, freak?" the receptionist asked tiredly.
"SbUg... It's SbUg, with a Uh."
The receptionist looked down at a forum filled with various names lazily jotted down with times next to them. He picked up a cheap wooden pencil and wrote "SbUg | 6:59" on a new line. Luckily, SbUg made it on time. It was no longer gnawing at the back of his conscience after he lost track of time on the way.
The receptionist handed him an ID card with his very own name, face, and reward points on it. How exciting.
"Thanks," SbUg said with a little bit of relief in his voice.
SbUg headed over to his assigned group in the mines. Each digger in his group looked more dirty and disheveled than the last. Their clothes were ragged and coated in concrete dust. The only thing that looked nice about them were their pickaxes, as Lug made sure they were sharp to increase productivity. There was no goblin stationed at the cart yet, because of course; that was SbUg's job. He was the cart pusher of group three.
He never bothered to learn any of their names, because they were all just there for the money anyway... probably. Socialization was much too tiring to add on to their... his? already exhausting workload. Actually, the diggers talked often, even on the harshest of days.
'I guess I'm just weird.'
Working through his pain, SbUg began to push the metallic cart toward the concrete walls they were digging at last time. He picked out the wooden chunks around his back, making use of the brief respite he had earned. After navigating through around 20 minutes of the maze of tunnels, they made it back. This area was special because they had found an abundant supply of medium-grade concrete. They had been working on it for a few days now, and still had a lot to go.
The diggers began using their steel pickaxes to work chunks of concrete out of the walls. Because it was so much tougher than average concrete, they had to really work for each piece. Whenever they would obtain a chunk, SbUg would pick it up and cradle it to the cart. It was going to be a long day.
***
Clang!
Clang!
SbUg brought one last chunk of concrete into the cart. After a few hours of picking up the concrete the diggers of group three would mine, the cart was filled up. It was time to head back to the main hall. A full cart of medium-grade concrete would earn them quite a hefty sum of score, so SbUg was pushing the heavy cart a little faster than usual. If on other days the cart was moving at a sluggish pace, today, it was just a very slow one.
The diggers followed behind him, heavy pickaxes in hand. They were looking around, probably searching for higher quality concrete for the next load. SbUg was exhausted after everything that happened today, but he had to keep moving. He might even be able to score a raise! Or some food and water... hopefully.
The money the miners earned was solely based on their performance. It didn't matter if you worked for twelve hours, if you didn't get any good concrete. The only reason SbUg could afford the nice shirt he had on was because of the vein of medium-grade concrete his group had found. Well, it's a nice shirt everywhere besides his back. Wood really doesn't help make a shirt look nicer.
After around an hour of walking, the diggers hadn't found any high-grade concrete, and they were back at the main hall. They turned in their pickaxes to some wooden crates. Now helping SbUg push their cart over to the area where the processors stood, it was time for their points to be tallied up.