“Any fish bigger than zee bluegill will find itself stuck here for us to harvest as we see fit,” Fastbinder said. “Zee mole people see the new abundance of food as a gift from zee God Emperor Fastbinder.”
“I’m also working on making special containerized transport barges,” Fast enthused. “No steering needed. Just load your stuff, toss them into the river source near the surface and it’ll make its way here. Automatic speedy delivery.”
The older man was frowning as he started the golf cart again. “And too risky. I predict our cargo will be damaged beyond use.”
“Hey, Pops, you said I could give it a try.”
“And you may. Then you will see zee results and can set about building me barges that can be controlled. I don’t care if they will be too slow.”
“You wait, Pops. My transport pods are gonna work.”
“We shall see.”
After a disgruntled silence, Jack got his verve back and waved at the roof.
“See all that wiring? We’ve got fixtures for a thousand floodlights just in phase one,” Jack Fast said. “Our shopping trips have only netted us a couple hundred so far, but when we’re fully operational it will be bright as day in here. The electrical grid also powers our machine shop.”
Fast steered the little cart through a narrow gap in the rock, and Whiteslaw found himself looking down a sheer drop, just inches from the cart’s balloon tires.
“Relax, I’m a safe driver,” Fast said. “This is where we make stuff.”
“Those are people,” Whiteslaw said, as he realized he was looking at regular human beings. They were dressed in normal human clothes, and they looked up at the cart with stricken, but normal, human eyes.
“I wasn’t about to try to train the mole dudes to work sheet metal,” Fast explained. “Mechanics, heating and ventilation engineers, electrical guys, refrigeration guys. Even got a few plumbers. It’s gonna take a lot of work to get this city up to our standards, you know. This bunch we nabbed mostly from a nearby subterranean construction project.”
“And that’s not even half of them,” Fastbinder said. “Let us show you other grottos.”
It turned out that there was a series of grottos— stone pits with concave walls. The senator was startled when the words Grotto Number Two—Best Food In Earth appeared in buzzing blue neon letters. In the dismal cavern it looked utterly foreign.
“We made an experimental expedition to the surface one night last month. Those morons brought down a sign maker by mistake,” Fast said with a pleasant shrug. “So I thought, what the hell?”
The blue letters flickered, then blazed to life again as Whiteslaw peered down into the catering operation. There were stone tables and stone coolers with heavy plastic sheeting for doors, and everywhere was fervent activity. It could have been the kitchen of any big-city hotel.
“There’s our dumbwaiters,” Fast said. “That’s how we get stuff in and out.” Whiteslaw saw albinos on the edge of the grotto putting supplies into small baskets, then lowering them on booms to waiting kitchen staff below. The basket chains were small gauge. Fast explained that the winches were fitted with governors that were activated if the load was more than forty pounds. “Nobody is gonna get out that way.”
It dawned on Whiteslaw now that the grotto dwellers were imprisoned in their workplaces. The dark windows in the rock walls had to be where they slept.
“How do you keep them motivated?” Whiteslaw asked wonderingly as a man in a chef’s hat gave Fastbinder a subservient smile and gestured at the meal he was preparing.
“That is Horst. He makes lousy sauerbraten,” Fastbinder explained quietly, but smiled and waved back. “Jack, we need a cook who makes good German food.”
“Adding it to the list,” Jack said, tapping on the keys of his PDA with one hand as he steered the golf cart along the edge of the grottos with the other.
Whiteslaw couldn’t help but notice that his question had been ignored.
The words Central Processing blinked on in orange neon, but the grotto’s handful of inhabitants were just sitting around. They were taking turns at a single computer terminal.
“Our next big excursion, we’re gonna get lots of PCs,” Fast said. “I want my own intelligence center to keep watch on the outside world.”
Whiteslaw stuttered. “You’re go-going to let them go on-line? They’ll call for help!”
Fast grinned. “Maybe. But I’ll know about it. And if they do, well…”
Whiteslaw waited. “Well what?”
Fast grinned. Fastbinder nodded, and they drove away from the grottos to the cafeteria. It was the albinos’ cafeteria.
“See that guy?” Fast asked. How could Whiteslaw not see the man dangling over the gathering lunchtime crowd? The obese man was held teasingly high over the albinos by a pair of chains. “See the lights? See the cameras?”
Whiteslaw did indeed see the lights and the wall-mounted video cameras. Jack did something on his PDA and the lights brightened on the prisoner. Small red indicators showed that the cameras were now working. The chain clanked as the prisoner descended.
