On the morning after the act was announced, the wasteland west of Newborn Town looked much the same as it had the day before.
More than eleven hundred Contract Workers were scattered across it, most still moving sluggishly, as though sleepwalking.
"Get moving, you spineless lot! Hoes are for digging, not for leaning on!"
Lane had shouted himself nearly hoarse, but the newly arrived serfs still poked listlessly at the ground.
He had been a farmer for over a decade and had lived through times when he simply drifted through life, too. But now they had a chance at a decent life, didn't they? How could these people act as though they couldn't see it?
He hoped Lord Veylin's Citizen Redemption Act would wake these lost souls up.
"Lane," another Technician beside him leaned over and lowered his voice. "I'm afraid His Lordship has got it wrong this time. With people like these, you need a whip. Nothing else works."
Lane spat impatiently. "Of course I fucking know that! But His Lordship won't let us!"
Just as he scratched his head in frustration, he caught sight of someone different out of the corner of his eye.
A burly man built like a bear was working bare-chested, wrenching a stubborn rock the size of a millstone out of the earth. Then he braced his shoulder against it and rolled it out of the furrow, one labored step at a time.
His muscles bulged, and sweat mixed with dirt glistened like oil in the sunlight.
This one man alone was doing more work than the ten people beside him combined.
Lane raised his eyebrows and strode over, asking with a smile, "What's your name? Working this hard to buy your freedom?"
Without looking up, Barton forced a few words through clenched teeth.