— Wake up Mikhalo
— Huh what the hell
— We’re here wake up
— Ah fuck come on
— What the fuck come on we had a deal you sleep on the way I sleep first half.
— Christ Piggy switch with me I had a good dream going
— Up yours Mikhalo I stay up for when we go back
— Don’t bitch out Mikhalo get up let’s open the bay
— Fuck it’s cold this is gonna be a pain in the ass
— Trust me the way these rigs heat up the whole fucking truck it’s way better than doing it in summer
— Hey Beaver
— What?
— Hey Beaver so how many of these cords do we run to— HOLY fuck!
— Christ that bitch sounded close how far are we from the front?
— It’s fine you pussy get up we’re far enough.
— I think I nearly pissed.
— In the city it’s those fucking drones out here it’s shells AND drones there’s no fucking quiet anywhere we go.
— You rather get dragged out there with our heroes?
— No Beaver but —
— Then shut the fuck up and be glad Vulture covered us with this fucking draft coming.
— I think I got snow down my ass.
The engine sighed relief as the last cloud of exhaust dissipated from the back of the truck and the cab door creaked open.
— How goes fellas hope it wasn’t too bumpy you know these holy fuck it’s cold!
— You drive like a fucking cretin Vova
— Woah now woah now what if Uncle Grisha heard you cursing like that Mikhalo you get the stove yet
— Cords first
— That’s Piggy and Mikhalo today right?
— Yeah but they don’t know shit about which ones to run where
— Ready to learn fellas grab that spool the big fucker no both of you
— Christ it’s heavy Piggy come on
— Woah now woah now be gentle fellas this stuff ain’t cheap
— What about an ethernet?
— Ethernets run between the rigs and the network switch. The fiber optic runs from the switch to the house, along with the two thick power cables there the black spools.
— Hey Beaver, he grunted, lifting the roll out of the truck. — How come we don’t just park by the house itself?
— What ninety year old pensioner do you know gets visits from five fucking military age men one of them brown in a truck bigger than any fucking house in the village?
— Besides your nana? Wait Beaver come on ow fuck come on Beaver it’s true
— Piggy’s right Beaver we did stop by for tea last time though I wouldn’t call that a village
— She’s not fucking ninety either you turk asshole shut up and get the other spool
— Told you I’m not a turk you racist prick
— Did you see the stove I need coffee or I’ll fall the fuck asleep before you two even start
— Setup first Vova a bunch of shit fell on the way
— Ah fuck it.
Plugs clicked into ports, cables ran through metal racks to the floor of the container splitting like a delta between themselves and the network switch. Rows of fans of various sizes watched each other from across the walls. Gloved fingers ran along flexible bundles of twisted copper wrapped in layers of polyethylene, guiding gold—plated contacts in polycarbonate to their destined receptors. Several units lay sprawled, revealing circuits and outdated silicone chips.
— Hey Beaver looks like some of these got busted.
— Lay those on the work table we’ll fix what we can while you run the cords to grandpa major.
Mikhalo gathered the bones and guts of fallen graphics cards into the nest of his arm, whistling them to sleep as he arranged the parts on a dusty surface. Piggy stood up from the last rack and hobbled over to examine the corpses, picking one up and turning it around.
— This one still good
— Hey Piggy when did all of these fall?
— You fucking asshole.
— What?
— You sleep through anything you lucky bitch ask Vova why’d he slam brakes back there.
— Woah now woah now I wouldn’t say slam, he said rummaging through rack parts and mechanic tools at the container door, clanking out a kettle. — Maneuvered, he emphasized, digging with both hands. — Executed quite skillfully I might add to avoid fucking some little Toyota cheeky fucker spent half an hour trying to pass us don’t scoff don’t scoff ask Cherub you don’t believe me.
— Cherub is here? turning to look at Piggy. — Why is Cherub here?
— Forget it we go now with the cables.
The truck sighed relief as both men hopped down from the container.
— Hey Piggy I don’t get it why —
— Piggy.
— Forget it wha Beaver?
— Just in case, passing him a two—barreled hunting shotgun trimmed short, handle covered in black tape. Piggy accepted, slinging it over his right shoulder.
— The fuck? In case of what?
— In case you don’t shut the fuck up and he gets tired of you Mikhalo go on now it’s time to get moving.
— Grab the two power I take the fiber.
— Hey why do I get two while —fuck me!
— Never get used to that.
— I nearly pissed myself.
— Beaver what if those assholes break through while we’re out dragging these cables?
— They won’t.
— Oh yeah well what if they fucking do you Vova and Cherub drive off and we go hide with grandpa?
— They won’t it’s been stagnant for months especially now with the frost.
— Gentleman Piggy have some faith in our friends up above they keep tabs on the situation with our brotherly neighbors.
— We have contacts all along the frontline now quit dicking around and go.
— If you say so.
— Goodbye Mister Beaver goodbye Mister Vova.
— So long fellas keep a good pace.
The two trailed off into the woods, dragging along three cables through the snow. Gas whispered out of a small propane tank before engulfing at the proximity of a lit match. Water filled a small pot, covering fine grounds, waiting for the catalyst of heat to initiate their gradual consummation.
— How did we Slavs ever get on without coffee and tea you ever wonder Beaver?
— Let’s test some of the racks it’ll be another half hour before your pot boils with this fucking cold.
— Sound plan sound plan Gentleman Beaver
The truck creaked again at the entrance of the two men, one flipping on a generator as the other opened a laptop. Typing and clicking accompanied the successive whirring of fans as one miner after another came online. The three spools slowly turned.
— That’s enough from that rack any more will drain this bitch.
— Very well very well…