South Newgle. It was named the most innovative city in the country of Aderas... ten years ago. Since then, it has almost been the opposite. Businesses seem come and go every year. Residents don't live here long. The recent political and civil unrest has driven many people away. But for me, South Newgle is my home. Born and raised, it's where I lived all my life. The only things keeping me here are my kid's education and my job. The schools are decent and the job at the nuclear power plant pays well... very well. If I could move anywhere, it would probably be somewhere tropical... maybe the beaches of Levia... or possibly the mountains of Mortus.
With it being less than five miles away from the capitol of the country and having some of the most unique skyscrapers in Aderas, it makes for a popular tourist destination in the spring and summer. Each building has something unique about it. Two of them even have a zip line at the top connecting the two, which is a favorite of a lot of tourists. One of them starts with a square base at the ground level then slowly transforms into a triangle as you get higher. One of the buildings even have a ride you can go on at the very top.
Besides the architecture, the restaurants and things to do keep the city alive. South Newgle's downtown area is known for having world-class restaurants. Tourists from around the country, and even from other countries come here just to eat the food. Some even stay up to two weeks just to try all of the restaurants we have.
I live in the suburbs, less than a mile from the downtown area with my wife and daughter, in a house that's probably a little too big for us, but it's our house. I'm tying the laces to my steel-toe boots and double-checking I have everything in my work bag before I leave for work. Helmet, gloves, belt, ID, safety glasses, spare tools, and wiring, it's all there.
"Bye Arles, be safe," my wife Kristen reminds me, like she does everyday, while she's making Julia's lunch for school.
"Bye daddy!" Julia says. She's a cutie. At ten years old, she's finishing her last year at elementary school. She has the long blonde hair of her mother and beautiful blue eyes. She's too young, too innocent to know what the real world is like. To her, the world is a place to learn and have fun, a place of games and fairytales. Maybe it should stay that way. I say bye to both of them, then throw my work bag over my shoulder and walk out the front door.
It's 8:30 a.m. and some people are already mowing their lawns. People in our neighborhood are freaks when it comes to their lawns and gardens. I could care less until Kristen tells me to mow the lawn, telling me that it's so long lions and tigers could be living in it. In reality, it's tall enough for maybe, just maybe a mouse or a rat. Sometimes we joke about how residents here care more about their lawn than the city does about any of its public areas.
The car door opens like a bird taking off when I'm within ten feet from it. My phone automatically connects and syncs with the car. It reads off my latest messages when I sit down.
"New message from, Dale... shall I read it?" the car says in a very fragmented style. Dale's my best friend of 15 years. We met when we had to work on a biology project together. If anyone looked at us, they would never have guessed we were friends. Our work ethics are different and the way we live are totally different, and our economic statuses aren't even close. I don't know what, but something just clicked, and we got along together really well.
"Yes," I respond as I start the car with a push of a button. The car is electric, like just over half the vehicles on the road. It purrs like a cat until I shift it into reverse. There's an extra monthly tax you pay if you use gas cars, but that doesn't bother many people since the price of gas has drastically dropped because of the influx of green cars. Theoretically, electric cars should be better in almost every way than gas cars, especially with the advances in self-driving technology. But some people like the reliability and the sound and feel of gas cars.
Dale's voice plays on the car speakers, "Hey Ar, call me when you get a chance. I wanna talk to you about something. You might like it."
"End of message," the car says almost immediately after Dale stops speaking, "plotting route for your workplace..." it says again in a very fragmented way.
"Call Dale," I say after pulling out of the driveway. A few seconds of ringing later and Dale picks up.
"Whatddup boy?" he asks. He sounds tired.
"I should be asking you that."
"Oh yeah.... right..." he yawns, "I wanted to tell you that a friend of a friend is running a party tomorrow night and was wonderin' if you'd like to come."
"Dale... tomorrow's Tuesday. I got work the next day."
"And?" he says snarkily. I let out a short sigh thinking about the offer. Mondays are usually when I stay late to fix whatever the weekend crew screwed up. Kristen usually gets mad when I stay too late and doesn't want me to stay late on Tuesdays.
"Fine—"
"Yes!" he interrupts me.
"But! I have to convince Kristen first. Even then, I don't know if I'll stay long."
"Aw. No fun. Aight. Talk later."
"Bye," he hangs up abruptly. The rest of the ride to the power plant is smooth minus some traffic on Lincoln. The night shift workers leave together in three cars lined up to turn out when I'm pulling in. Everyone, including workers, park in the parking lot in front of the main building. It's not big, because a power plant usually doesn't get a lot of visitors, unless one of the elementary schools have a field trip, then we have to park in the back.
After parking, I put my worker lanyard with my ID badge around my neck and walk in with my work bag. The front doors slide open automatically. Stacy is at the reception desk and welcomes everyone that comes in.
"Hi Arles. Happy Monday," she says with a smile and a wave. She has a charm to herself and can somehow put anyone in a good mood, even if they're having a bad day. Rumor has it that she worked as a social worker before. She denies it every time someone asks. Even if she did work as one, why is she a receptionist now?
"To you too," I say back, forcing a smile. The employee door is at the back of the lobby, protected by an ID scanner. I walk up to it and hover my lanyard card over the black square on the wall. With a beep and the sliding of a lock, the door unlocks, and I'm free to enter. The door leads to our manufacturing area, which is also known as our manufacturing building. It's large, and there's currently a plan to extend it out even more. Workbenches are spread out everywhere and carts with wheels carry tools and hardware.
The staff lounge is nearby, which includes a spot to store your things, eat, or simply just to chill out. The door is also ID protected. Inside the staff lounge, I grab my assigned radio unit off a charging station and clip it on the back of my belt. My supervisor, Nathan, is also in the staff lounge having a cup of coffee. He approaches me with a clipboard in his hand. Many of my coworkers, especially the newer ones, seem to be afraid of him, but I'm lucky enough to call him a friend after ten years of working here.
"What's up Arles," he says. He's leaving the staff lounge, I follow after. The sound of drills and saws buzzing of people assembling new transformers and tall metal power poles fill the air, "How's it going?" he asks, trying to shout over the noise.
"Pretty alright if you ask me. What's going on today. Lots of work I see."
"Meh, just a little bit. Pretty boring. There are some downed power poles in the tenth sector and some of the new transformers shorted out, which is what these guys are trying to get out today. If you want, you can help with them, or continue working with the other technicians on migrating to the new hardware."
"Cool. I guess I'll get to work then. See ya later." I start walking toward the snack corner by the door to the staff lounge, to fill up my small travel mug with coffee. It contains a few vending machines, a rack of chips, and a coffee pot, which is usually left empty by the last person who used it. Everything is free to take, only as long you pull your weight at the plant.
"Arles hold up," Nathan says behind me. I stop in my tracks and turn around. "Lunch today?"
"Maybe not today. Tomorrow?"
"Sure," he says with a smile and a thumbs up, "Jordan and I'll be in the control room if you need him alright. We'll catch up later."
"Sweet, thanks." Nathan turns on his heel and takes a cargo elevator down to the control room. The entire thing is squeaky and should be a safety hazard. It's probably at least fifty years old but it works and no one has complained enough to get a new one, though a new modernized control building is being built above ground, maybe 500 meters away from the manufacturing building. It has been what I've been working on for the last few weeks.
Our nuclear reactors are built underground as well. It's supposed to be safer if something goes terribly wrong, and it's supposed to be easier to maintain and clean. One of the downsides is the steam that is produced. We have to release it somewhere. So we release it through pipes leading to miniature smokestacks on the sidewalks in the industrial side of the city.
"Ayo Arles," I turn my head, trying to find the source of the voice. My eyes land on Jamie, one of the new technicians who joined us a few months ago, who stands in front of an intake module, which goes to one of the ground transformers at our substation. "Need some help over here," he shouts.
I walk over to the workbench he is standing at. The intake module he's working on has been cleaned, rewired, and refitted with newer parts. He has done a decent job on it. Still, he says something is wrong.
"Hey Arles, sorry to bother you, but I'm having a little bit of trouble and people here have been of little help," he explains. "I thought I had everything right and triple checked to make sure it matches the spec, but there's no output power when the input is on." He demonstrates by throwing the switch on the switch box, and like he says, no output.
"First, if you don't want to kill yourself, turn off the power before you start testing the flow." I turn off the switch to the power and grab a screwdriver and a wrench and tighten a few screws and bolts. It takes a little bit to find what the root cause of the problem is, but after looking around, I see that it's the poor wire management and the stresses each wire has. "Ah. I see the problem," I say
"What was it?" he asks.
"Well, first of all, replace all these wires again. Then after you do that, make sure none of the cables lay over each other. Maybe use zip ties or chains." I take another short look at it trying to find any more issues. "Also, get a new mounting plate. This one looks old."
"Oh... thanks," he says, "sorry."
"Don't apologize. You learn something every time you come in and work here."
"Cool. Do you wanna... uh... nevermind," he cuts himself off. I walk away toward the back of the manufacturing building to take one of the company vans out to the new control facility.
There's always something to do at the plant. Last week it was upgrading many of the transformers on the power poles, this week it seems to be fixing the ones that shorted out. We've been trying to upgrade all of our reactors and the hardware around the city to increase reliability and safety. It's been a long process, but once we finish upscaling the reactors, it will be well worth it.
Unfortunately, it's led to some brownouts in some sectors as we turn some reactors offline while we work on them. A lot of residents aren't happy, but they will be once they learn power outages and blackouts become almost non-existent.
Generally, the work here is easy. Many tasks take a long time, but it does require a sort of expertise, which not a lot of people have. Maybe that's why so many people here get along. A truck leaves the loading bay with 15 power poles on its flatbed. It requires two escort pickup trucks on both sides of it because the size of them takes up three lanes of traffic. Law enforcement already prepared a path this morning for them.
The workday continues on without issue. Some idiot dropped a box of screws and bolts in the manufacturing building which required everyone working in there to help and pick every single one up. Luckily, working around the new control facility with my crew means we didn't have to do that. We spent the day installing new modules, connecting pipes and plugs and cords so the computers and modules inside the new control room so we can more accurately monitor the reactors. When it's completed, it'll be the most modern and the most safe nuclear control facility in the country. There are more than eight different safety mechanisms to prevent any catastrophic failure and have triple redundancy, three more than the current standard for safety.
Of course, nothing is 100% safe. It seems as if every month there's a new group advocating to ban all nuclear power because it's unsafe. The statistics prove otherwise. People have gotten injured on the job, but nothing major. Worst I've had it was breaking my food when a full toolbox fell off a bench. I was told not to come into work until I was fully healed because I was a "liability." It took over a month to heal, but coming back was a relief.
In terms of the reactors and hardware, we have never had a serious problem in the 32 years of this power plant existing that I know of. Although it had gotten close two times. One being was when a small leak was detected in one of the fuel rods. Everyone needed to be screened for radiation poisoning before returning to work. Luckily, no one had any serious exposure. The other being when one of the reactors had a minor instability issue because the input power was bottlenecked. The computers automatically put the reactor into a sleep mode to prevent further issues.
After everything I wanted to complete for today is done, plus a little more, is done, I leave the building, scanning my ID badge as I'm walking out. It's 8 p.m., and the roads are quieter than they were in the morning. I wasn't able to make it home for a family dinner today, which is why I usually go out to Greg's Burger Bar right down the road from the power plant. Greg knows me on a first-name basis, I usually eat there for dinner or pick up something for lunch.
The parking lot to the place is empty except for the workers' cars. The door opens with a ring of a bell and a greeting from Greg who stands cleaning the bar. It's small but cozy. The lights are always dimmed, and smooth jazz plays in the background. Often, the televisions will have baseball games, but tonight the local news channel is showing the candidates on the ballot for the next Leader of Aderas.
The place has enough room to sit about 100 people. Dale and I used to come here all the time in high school. Not technically here, it was more toward the downtown area until they downsized and moved here. I sit at a table for two in the middle of the restaurant. The food comes quick, just how I always order it. Burger with pickles, onion, and tomato with fries. It's not the healthiest, but it's good food.
I eat watching the television. None of the candidates this year are good, but there are some promising ones. John Johnson is one of the more popular choices from the New Unity Party. If he gets elected as Lead Administrator, it would mark the fifth year in a row that a candidate from the New Union Party was elected as Lead Admin. Election week starts in three days. A week-long of large groups gathering in support of their favorite candidate. A week-long of people standing in lines and voting. It leads to violence in the streets more often than not.
After finishing and paying, I finally leave for home. It's a fast drive now that almost no one is on the road. The garage door to the house automatically opens when I approach it, the car doing the work for me. It drives itself into the driveway and parks perfectly in the garage. When I open the door and walk into the house, Kristen is in the kitchen making popcorn.
"Popcorn?" I ask, eyeing the big bowl coming out of the microwave. It's filled to the brim.
"Yeah, she wanted to watch a movie tonight," she says, motioning with her head to the second floor, where Julia's room is, "so I thought I'd heat up some popcorn." She takes some butter and also heats it up in the microwave to melt and cover the popcorn with.
"I'm going to go to sleep early tonight. Long day, plus tomorrow's morning meeting," I say. She walks up to me and kisses me on the lips, having to left herself up a little bit by standing on her toes. She takes the butter out of the microwave and pours it on the popcorn.
"See you tomorrow then," she says. She stares into my eyes for an extra second. "Don't worry, we'll keep quiet."
"Good night." She picks up the bowl of popcorn off of the counter and walks away, turning the corner and climbs the stairs.
I lay in bed staring up at the ceiling. My back hurts from the day's work of constantly bending over and crouching. It's not often you feel like garbage after a day of work at the power plant, but today I feel like I've been through hell and back. My hands are blistered, despite the gloves we wear most of the day. Maybe the party will be a good idea.
Kristen sits on Julia's bed in the next room over watching a movie. I hear the sound of the movie and them both laughing and giggling. Eventually, Julia will drift off to sleep, Kristen will turn off the television, and everyone will go to sleep. I wish I could be more involved in Julia's life, in fact I need to be more involved. But it's hard. I'm gone at work from early in the morning while she's preparing to go to school. Most days, I don't know if I need to stay late or not. On those late days, I usually come home she is already in bed. Kristen has done a lot, more than I could ever imagine.
A text comes through to my phone with a soft rumble. It's from Jordan.
Why? The day starts with the meeting, there's nothing I could possibly be doing 30 minutes before it. It's a strange text to be receiving this late at night. Jordan never texts me this late. I turn off the phone and put it back on the nightstand next to me. Eyes heavy, I drift into a peaceful sleep with the sound of Kristen and Julia laughing and the sound of owls hooting outside.