Comrade Stalin, they probably even got to watch the Punishment Channel. Even if Erica was on Hades, she’d know just what to do.
“Yeah, that’s what your asshole commissar-wannabes do,” Guy said. “They stand at the back of the crowd shouting, and let the rest of you get caught. Well, congratulations. You’ve got your freedom, red in tooth and claw.”
“This isn’t freedom. This is... something else. This isn’t a real world, with real people, it’s a planet of psychopaths, killing each other over nothing.”
“It is free. No PubSafe here to stop you doing anything you want, so long as you're man enough to take it.”
“You saved me. You seem like the local PubSafe.”
“True. But I did that because I wanted to.”
“Who were those people, anyway?”
“Call themselves the Meat Packers. Just another gang of dumb assholes trying to make some shinies. They do the dirty work for the slavers, catching newbies to sell.”
“How did they know we’d be here?”
Drones circled around them, dodging between the trees. Guy grabbed a broken branch from the ground, and threw it toward one. The drone dodged sideways as the branch passed by, then moved in closer.
“The gulag ship flies past the same day every year. Drops you off as it approaches the planet, and the orbit brings you here. Someone figures out the trajectory, and there’s always a crowd waiting to greet the newbies. You just got unlucky, landed right in the middle of them in broad daylight. Most years, they actually have to hunt.” Guy grabbed a rock and threw it at the drone as it buzzed past them again. “PubSafe will make sure it doesn’t happen next year.”
“I hope so. All those people just caught or killed as soon as they landed...”
“It’s bad for the ratings. It’s the thrill of the chase they want, and they can drag that out for days in a good year. Weeks, sometimes.”
“What do they want people for?”
“Men will do for slaves or meat. Or muscle, if they need more in their gang.”
Daniel shivered. They had slaves here? How could society had devolved so fast? Well, they were criminals, and already half-way to beasts. Imagine Erica dragged off, naked and screaming, like the girl he'd tried to rescue. His stomach churned at the thought.
“What about the girls?”
“Whorehouses or harems will buy them, if the hunters don’t keep them for themselves.”
“What do you mean?”
“Girls are valuable, kid. There aren't any sex bots here, you have to make do with the real thing. Rich men will pay a good pile of shinies for a girl of their own, and the rest will pay to rent a whore for a quick roll in the hay. How many newbies do you think they send every year?”
How many pods had he seen? “A dozen?”
“About ten thousand. How many do you think are female?”
“I didn't see anything like a thousand pods.”
“The pods land wherever gravity takes them. You could have been freezing to death at the poles, or floating out to sea, wondering whether you'll die of thirst before the big fish eat you. Now, how many do you think are women?”
Daniel shook his head. How many women would commit crimes that would get them sentenced there? Not a lot.
“Less than one in ten,” Guy said. “By the time we men get done killing each other, there are about four of us left for every woman. If they're not tough enough to avoid being caught... there are much worse fates than a whorehouse.”
“That's sexist. Women can do anything men can.”
“Maybe back home. Not so much around here, unless they have a fuckton of body mods. There's no PubSafe to protect them, if they aren't tough enough to protect themselves.”
“They should still have equal rights.”
“They do. They get raped, murdered and eaten, all equally like we do. Only a lot more of the first than the last.”
“That’s just male privilege talking.”
Guy shook his head and walked on, in silence.
It still wasn’t fair. Daniel imagined Erica captured,
“Yeah, that’s what your asshole commissar-wannabes do,” Guy said. “They stand at the back of the crowd shouting, and let the rest of you get caught. Well, congratulations. You’ve got your freedom, red in tooth and claw.”
“This isn’t freedom. This is... something else. This isn’t a real world, with real people, it’s a planet of psychopaths, killing each other over nothing.”
“It is free. No PubSafe here to stop you doing anything you want, so long as you're man enough to take it.”
“You saved me. You seem like the local PubSafe.”
“True. But I did that because I wanted to.”
“Who were those people, anyway?”
“Call themselves the Meat Packers. Just another gang of dumb assholes trying to make some shinies. They do the dirty work for the slavers, catching newbies to sell.”
“How did they know we’d be here?”
Drones circled around them, dodging between the trees. Guy grabbed a broken branch from the ground, and threw it toward one. The drone dodged sideways as the branch passed by, then moved in closer.
“The gulag ship flies past the same day every year. Drops you off as it approaches the planet, and the orbit brings you here. Someone figures out the trajectory, and there’s always a crowd waiting to greet the newbies. You just got unlucky, landed right in the middle of them in broad daylight. Most years, they actually have to hunt.” Guy grabbed a rock and threw it at the drone as it buzzed past them again. “PubSafe will make sure it doesn’t happen next year.”
“I hope so. All those people just caught or killed as soon as they landed...”
“It’s bad for the ratings. It’s the thrill of the chase they want, and they can drag that out for days in a good year. Weeks, sometimes.”
“What do they want people for?”
“Men will do for slaves or meat. Or muscle, if they need more in their gang.”
Daniel shivered. They had slaves here? How could society had devolved so fast? Well, they were criminals, and already half-way to beasts. Imagine Erica dragged off, naked and screaming, like the girl he'd tried to rescue. His stomach churned at the thought.
“What about the girls?”
“Whorehouses or harems will buy them, if the hunters don’t keep them for themselves.”
“What do you mean?”
“Girls are valuable, kid. There aren't any sex bots here, you have to make do with the real thing. Rich men will pay a good pile of shinies for a girl of their own, and the rest will pay to rent a whore for a quick roll in the hay. How many newbies do you think they send every year?”
How many pods had he seen? “A dozen?”
“About ten thousand. How many do you think are female?”
“I didn't see anything like a thousand pods.”
“The pods land wherever gravity takes them. You could have been freezing to death at the poles, or floating out to sea, wondering whether you'll die of thirst before the big fish eat you. Now, how many do you think are women?”
Daniel shook his head. How many women would commit crimes that would get them sentenced there? Not a lot.
“Less than one in ten,” Guy said. “By the time we men get done killing each other, there are about four of us left for every woman. If they're not tough enough to avoid being caught... there are much worse fates than a whorehouse.”
“That's sexist. Women can do anything men can.”
“Maybe back home. Not so much around here, unless they have a fuckton of body mods. There's no PubSafe to protect them, if they aren't tough enough to protect themselves.”
“They should still have equal rights.”
“They do. They get raped, murdered and eaten, all equally like we do. Only a lot more of the first than the last.”
“That’s just male privilege talking.”
Guy shook his head and walked on, in silence.
It still wasn’t fair. Daniel imagined Erica captured,
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