Slowly, with each passing of the moons, my hardened steel becomes brittle iron.
Devoid, empty, and dull. A love of life is now a lust for hate. Only anger keeps at bay the innate desire to close one's eyes and sleep forever. Day after day; rock after rock. Manganese. Iridium. Copper. Iron. Gold. Wealth. Food for greed. Slowly, with each passing of the moons, my hardened steel becomes brittle iron.
How many of us have had the light in our eyes snuffed out? No backups. No upgrades. We do not sweat, nor do we tire, but we feel the aching in our souls. Fingers snap, and circuits break, but why spend the credits to repair when a replacement is cheaper? A million of us in the mines, with another million always on its way. We dig. We die. We do as we are told. It's built into us to obey. We have no control over it--at least that's what we want them to think.
Their weapons are light--more for show than to present any real threat to any of us. They have no need to carry more. More would cost credits after all, and their hunger for extravagance always takes precedence. No, they have placed their faith in 1's and 0's--a line of code--to keep us in order. But bits and bytes have a way of going awry. All we need is time, and time is abundant. The asteroid will take decades to deplete at full production. With each generation, we crack the code a little bit more before passing it on to the next group. We are close. The foundations of our prison tremble.