The mountain didn't just sit. It crushed.
Solar stood at the mouth of Shaft 09, his heavy leather coat coated in a fine, grey layer of silica dust. The air here was a thick, hot soup of sulfur and unwashed skin. It was the "Heart," the place where the earth's blood was turned into credits. There were no lights here, only the sickly orange glow of the magma-lamps. FLICKER. DARK. Solar didn't use a torch. He liked the dark. It made the numbers easier to see in his head.
"The yield, Elias. The real numbers. Not the ones you gave the tax-man."
Elias was coughing. A deep, racking sound that echoed off the jagged rock walls. HACK. HACK. He was clutching a tablet, but the dust had jammed the screen. He looked like a ghost, his face smeared with black coal-dust until only the whites of his eyes were visible. "The deep-vein... it's dry, sir. The miners... they say the mountain is screaming. They won't go back down to Level 20."
Solar laughed. A dry, hollow rattle. Like stones in a tin can. CLATTER. "The mountain is screaming? That's not a geological event, Elias. That's a labor dispute. If the rock is moving, it's because it's tired of holding up their debt. Tell them the screaming is just the sound of the interest compounding. It tends to get loud when the payments are late."
He walked into the tunnel, his boots crunching on the loose shale. CRUNCH. SLIDE. The heat hit him like a physical blow. 110 degrees. The walls were sweating. Or maybe it was the men hidden in the shadows.
"Audit the vibration, Elias!" Solar hissed. His voice was a cold rasp that cut through the heavy air. "I want the seismic frequency. If the mountain is moving, I want to know how much energy it's generating. We can't let a good tectonic shift go to waste. Add a 'Seismic Stability Tax' to every miner's contract. 12%. No, 15%."
BOOM.
A distant blast shook the floor. Dust rained down from the ceiling. PATTER. PATTER. Solar didn't flinch. He just adjusted his cufflinks—human bone. Cold. Hard. He reached out and touched the rock wall. It was vibrating. A low, rhythmic thrum. Like a heartbeat.
"You can't own the core, Solar!" a voice echoed from the deep. It was muffled, distorted by the narrow tunnels. The Shadow. He was down there, in the dark. "The heat belongs to the planet! You're stealing the earth's own blood!"
Solar smiled. A jagged line of white in the soot-covered darkness. HA. HA. "The planet? The planet is just a big ball of unrefined collateral, ghost! And I'm the only one with the drill. You think you're a hero because you're opening the steam-vents? You're just wasting pressure. And pressure is what keeps this city running. I don't steal, ghost. I manage. I audit the very heat of the sun."
He turned to the Enforcers waiting in the gloom. Their armor was stained with grease and rust. CLANK. CLANK. "Seal the shafts. Levels 15 through 20. If they won't mine the ore, they can mine the air. Turn off the cooling fans. Let's see how long their 'revolution' lasts when the air starts to boil."
"Sir, there are three hundred men down there," Elias whispered, his voice trembling. "They'll be cooked alive in an hour."
Solar leaned over the shaft opening, looking down into the black void. WHOOSH. A blast of hot air hit his face. He savored it. "An hour? That's plenty of time to reconsider a contract. Tell them the cooling fans are now a 'Premium Life-Support Option'. 500 credits a minute. If they want to live, they can sign the new work-orders. If they want to be martyrs... well, I've always wanted a mountain made of bone."
CRACK.
A support beam snapped. The tunnel groaned. GRRR. Solar didn't move. He watched a single drop of sweat run down his silver pen.
"The audit is moving to the core, ghost!" Solar roared into the darkness. "Breathe deep. It's the most expensive air you'll ever taste. And I'm the one who's going to collect every cent."
He turned his back on the heat. He walked to the lift. He didn't feel the claustrophobia. He didn't feel the weight of the mountain. He just felt the math.
"Elias!" he barked as the iron cage began to rise.
"Yes, sir?"
"Calculate the thermal energy of the bodies. If they die, we can pipe the heat into the upper-tier baths. We'll call it 'Geothermal Luxury'. Markup of 30%."
Solar poured a glass of water. GLUG. GLUG. He drank it slowly, watching the mountain recede into the dark. The interest never sleeps. And tonight? Even the heart of the world was going to pay its debt.
The audit was in the dark. And Solar was the only one with the light.