Work Text:
There is a simple truth, universally known but seldom remarked upon for its sheer mundanity, that all cities must be supported by some laboring of the masses. That is, there must be some hand that lays the pavement, caulks the seams, dusts the statues, and carts away the many tonnes of human detritus that a city exhales each day in the course of daily life.
Exactly how this burden is distributed varies widely from one place to another. For example, one may call to mind the metropolis of Tudoran where the laboring underclasses are banished to outside the city walls in daylight, creeping in only under the darkness of night to perform menial tasks so that the upper classes may pretend they do not exist. On the other extreme, one may remember Oprathet, in which jobs are performed by all citizens in rotation so that all men and women regardless of birth might serve one day a year as Lord Mayor and the next as a sewage sweep.
Uskresh takes an approach that echoes both these systems. Like Oprathet, they believe that drudgery of city upkeep should be distributed equally across the populace, and like Tudoran they desire that such chores not encroach upon their leisure time. Thus they consign such undesirable duties to the one demographic that is both universal and uncomplaining—their own sleeping selves.
The Uskreshi are masters of the psyche, to the extent that they can wholly separate their physical and mental selves. During their hours of rest, they use this skill to dissociate completely, such that their bodies continue to perform the work required to upkeep the city while their minds slumber. This leaves their waking hours free with which to pursue their passions and endeavours of skill, whether that be in learning, arts, sport, or more esoteric interests. Many sons and daughters of this city have gained great renown in their respective fields as a result--and still you will find that every one of them spend a shift each day dedicated to sleep and common labor.
It is common to see these sleeping drones drifting through the streets, working with mindless diligence at their assigned chores. Those of the waking world pay them little mind, sliding by their glassy-eyed companions with little more than a glance. It is a strange sight to behold, as if two cities exist superimposed upon each other, the first vibrant and full of vigor, the other marching forward with mindless focus on the necessary tasks, and nothing more.
All who enter the city walls are required to take part in this system. Even the rare travelers like myself are issued a daily work quota for the duration of their stay. Unable to perform fantastic feats of dissociation myself, I spent each of my days in Uskresh from morning until midafternoon laying bricks in the municipal district, while sounds of laughter and joviality drifted to me from that second city, the one populated by those wakeful and living. It was hot, heavy work under the beating midday sun, and my fellow workers, all born and raised in the city walls, spent our shift in that trance-like state that came to them so naturally. Hours pass slowly in such company. To be among them, silent and indefatigable with their dead eyes and robotic movements, with sweat dripping into my eyes and my back aching with the strain of keeping pace, was as if to be among damned souls put condemned to work in hell.
Once completing my grueling shift, I was left each day with just a few hours to wander the city before sundown. Even this time held only limited joy for me, for as I roamed I found it difficult to see the city’s temples and houses as little more than collections of stones, each mined, sanded, laid, and sealed by an empty, mindless hand. When at last darkness and exhaustion would force me to return to my dormitory, I would fall into bed, grateful for a dreamless sleep while around me, automatons rose around me to begin their nightly work.
It would be a discredit to Uskresh to conclude my account without acknowledging the merits of their system. While awake, its people are passionate and generous. Free from the bounds of labor, they have perfected the art of leisure, hobby, and personal betterment. It is easy to make friends among its people, though I never quite got used to the shock of chancing upon the vacant body of a man or woman I had lunched with the day before at work during their assigned sleep-shifts. My discomfort at these encounters amused my new friends greatly, but always left me with a lingering unease whenever we next met.
I have great respect for the Uskreshi, but I cannot live as they do. After a week or so on their relentless schedule, I cut my stay short and took once more to the road, more worldly-wise and weary than when I had arrived.