[Freelance news] RK human trafficking balloons and bursts
RK human trafficking balloons and bursts
By Wob Wusi
An exclusive report on Rubi-Ka’s exploding mule problem
You see them crawling in street corners. You walk into a backyard and find them under a flimsy tent next to bank terminals. With their fearful eyes and chained destinies, they are the mules of Rubi-Ka, and they keep your stuff.
It all started five years ago, on December 16, when ICC lifted immigration fees for Rubi-Ka, attracting a lively influx of newcomers to the planet. Soon, however, arrival halls were teeming with exploiters out to take advantage of the confusion that accompanies starting a new life on a different planet. Now, five years later, an entire community of immigrants is stuck living despondent lives right under our nose in the major cities of Rubi-Ka, with no legal recourse against those who have forcefully changed their mules’ identities, shackled them to backyards and took away their future.
Speaking on the condition of anonymity, a meta-physicist based out of West Athen admits to “owning” six mules. “I’ve been accused of having some kind of pet complex. I know how it looks. But the truth is my mules live in excellent conditions, they wear Miiir for Galahad’s sake, and what’s more they get to be the guardians of my most valuable belongings,” she explains. When asked for permission to interview one of these mules, however, her cheerful expression quickly subsides. “Would you rather be a bartender at a nameless shop or would you prefer to keep billions’ worth of armor and weapons for one of the richest people on Rubi-Ka?” she asks in a markedly upset and raised tone, and hastily flies away.
But an Omni-1 Trade mule, “Lucybank”, begs to differ.
Lucybank arrived on Rubi-Ka in 29480, and simply looking to get a jump start in his new home planet, the handsome young man happily agreed to a “training arrangement” with a prominent member of the Omni-Admin elite. That night, he went to bed with grand hopes of building a respectable career in the corporation, but woke up the next morning to find himself warped into one of the gloomy highrises of Omni-1 Trade instead. With no security clearance and no insurance, he literally had no way out.
“My former identity had been eradicated. It was as though I had never existed except as this poor slave who has to sit all day in Holoworld and shine Combined Commando footwear,” he recalls. Clad in battered Flak Armor, he deeply regrets ever having come to Rubi-Ka. “I had a nice life back home, I left it all behind. The opportunities [that Rubi-Ka presented] seemed so appealing.”
Yvette “Nihan” Niwupi, a Borealis resident, is also aware of the problem. “I moved here shortly after ICC’s immigration reform,” she recounts her story. “I met this young girl named Pelinsu on Morning Star, she was about my age. We were so young and excited. We quickly became friends and promised that we would look out for each other, help each other out in this foreign place. Later we were both approached by an agent working for some unknown company and offered a deal that seemed too good to be true. I found it su****ious and tried so hard to warn Pelinsu, but she had made up her mind. She would work for the company.
“Turns out the deal was too good to be true. The next day she just vanished, and I didn’t see her again for a long time until one day I walked into a Newland backyard. There was my old friend, but now looking 15 years older than me. It was obvious life had been hard on her. Then this huge enforcer bitch walks in, yells racial slurs at her for 5 minutes and then drags her into an apartment.” Yvette covers her petite face with her hands as tears fill up her gray eyes. “I couldn’t do anything…”
ICC’s decision to close down arrival halls and make changes to the immigration process a while ago does not seem to have improved the situation. Case in point: “Ikeepj00”, another mule who came from the Shadowlands, hoping to settle in the coveted Rome Green district, but ended up as one of the many victims of space-age slavery. “I was a respected Keeper at the Stormshelter Temple but I wanted something new. Now I am the keeper of my master’s stuff in a Rome Green apartment, talk about irony,” he says with a wry smile.
Ocaen’s story is altogether different. He spends his days in a remote private town in the Longest Road, defending the facilities against feeble alien invaders. “I don’t see the point of this, but I do it anyway. I have to,” he says with a shrug. Wasting his days away doing practically nothing has afforded Ocaen a lot of time to ponder about his life.
“If you think about it, individually we as mules probably make up the richest people on the planet. Yet at the same time here we are, powerless, hopeless, useless…” As he searches for more words, he receives notice of incoming invaders, abruptly gets up, builds a primitive robot and marches into yet another imaginary battle.
Certain names and locations in this story have been changed to protect identities.
