Chapter 3: Chapter 3: Copernican Revolution

Having finished the day’s work, the miners headed to the barracks to eat and rest. When they arrived, Agatha stepped into the center of the room, staring at the emaciated, exhausted faces of the workers, and with great determination, she addressed them:

“Comrades, I know you don’t know me, and I understand you’re tired, but please listen to what I have to say, I beg you!”

Her speech was interrupted by the sound of creaking wood. Turning toward the noise, they saw a miner with heavy black circles under his weary eyes. His trembling body leaned against the rotting mattress of one of the bunk beds.

“Wait, don’t do it, it’s dangerous!” the old man cried out desperately.

“But… I’m so… tired…” the man’s weak voice sounded like the very embodiment of exhaustion. “I just… want to feel… the softness and warmth of a bed again.”

As he lay down, the creaking of the wood echoed throughout the room. Agatha watched in horror as the bed wobbled, until the damp wood gave way under the weight of the cadaverous miner. His eyes and throat were pierced by splintered wood as the upper bunk collapsed onto him.

“I told him not to lie on the bed… I warned him…” the old man turned to Agatha, his eyes reflecting deep pain. “Do you see why we need your help? We can’t endure these living conditions any longer!”

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All the workers turned their tired, sorrowful eyes toward Agatha. A cold sweat ran down her back as she swallowed hard and tried to address the crowd with a confident voice, but her trembling lips betrayed her true feelings.

“I know you’re tired… that you just want to lie down forever and forget about this detestable world that has treated you so cruelly.”

Clearing her dry throat, she continued her speech.

“But your wishes demand movement from your bodies to be sustained. And that movement is being suppressed by those who, right now, are resting comfortably in their warm beds up above. And do you know how they manage to do that?”

The crowd shouted a resounding “No!”

“It’s thanks to the fruits of your hard labor,” Agatha said, gesturing to them with her arm.

Insults could be heard coming from the crowd of enraged workers.

“Today, I ask you to lend me a bit of that strength, not for me, but for yourselves! So that we can all finally taste the fruits of our labor, which have been denied to you all for so long!”

“But how will we do that?” asked a confused worker.

“I will teach you how to use weapons to defend yourselves.”

“But we don’t have weapons here.”“What? You hold one in your hands every single day!”

All the miners looked at one another, then down at the old, worn pickaxes they used daily.

“Those old, moldy things? I think they’d kill more of us than the guards,” one miner joked.

“And yet turning that tool of oppression into the weapon of your liberation is our only option. So it’s a risk you must take, if you’re truly willing to be free. Starting tomorrow, I will train you in the proper use of the pickaxe, to make you strong warriors.”

All the workers raised their fists into the air, shouting with excitement at the prospect of finally gaining their freedom.