Showing posts with label worker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label worker. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 20, 2026

Imperial Citizen - Crina Nurklin, Punch operator

My name is Crina Nurklin, sir. I serve the Emperor, His Majesty, the Lord of Mankind, by operating a plasma punch machine in Manufactorum Hypercubus-Beta-44-9x. I have been assigned to it for three years now. With my help, it produces steel-sheet aquilas, the kind that get riveted onto the helmets of soldiers fighting out in the last Terran wastelands.

My date of birth is 012.700.M30, so I am seventeen years old at the moment.

Of course, I am a registered Imperial citizen! [proudly pointing at the handwritten certificate on her belt]. And I have never missed a shift or failed an inspection.

I am a licensed Grade VII plasma operator [touching the handwritten licence tucked into her belt]. I earned it early. Because of that, I am permitted to use Viena’s public transportation system up to Class Gamma-Blue.

Since the last Unification Day, I have had my own flat [lifting the spherical mag-key hanging from her belt], about a quarter chronosegment from my workplace. It is part of my work contract. The manufactorum justiciarix told me it could be upgraded to a family-sized unit one day, if I ever apply for a birthing licence and the Administratum sees fit to grant me one. But I am not there yet, Securitor. I am currently... single. [a brief, embarrassed smile]

Is it small? Yes. But it is mine. And it is much better than the mattress-alcove I used to have in the machine pedestal.

I now have my own sink and a small oven. And a proper sleeping alcove, wide enough that I can turn over at night without hitting metal.

The loo and the lye-shower are shared, of course. But they are on the same level, and I only share them with about eighty people, which is for sure considered more than decent.

I have saved enough to buy a few things already. A new data-slate. Some pre-disinfected food. And a few rag-paper books. Mostly authorised war reports. Some instructional manuals. And my parents gifted me a carpet. The floors are quite cold. And I acquired… some other reading. Stories, mostly. About soldiers in difficult situations, finding a little... solitude together before things get worse. [she clears her throat, faintly blushing]

Back to the matter at hand, sir? Yes. Of course.
Yes, I shot the man who tried to break in. Yes, sir. Seven times.
[pointing at the handwritten weapons license the security officer is holding]