The End of the Beginning
Chapter 38: Waste

Hernandez’s insight could not wait till tomorrow. William wanted to straighten Samir out now. He also wanted answers about the foreboding piece of paper he had been given. If it was just a joke, Samir would be lucky to even be allowed to sleep in his bed tonight and not the brig for the incitement of a terrorist conspiracy in Base Tranquility.

Samir was wasting away anything he may have. William believed he had to have something in him, something that could show everyone how he could contribute. Wastefulness, it was a tragic side effect of human laziness. So much could be saved and reused or repurposed to fabricate new products that could be used for something they were never intended to be, including a person’s skills.

UNIRO hated being wasteful. Almost everything on the base was recycled when its use was finished or made from a recyclable material. Many of the parts coming into the ever-progressing base construction were made from plastic taken from the Great Pacific and Atlantic Garbage Patches, continent sized areas littered with the billions of tons of floating trash and plastics. One of the first environmental projects undertaken by UNIRO, and crowd-sourced from a kid named Boyan Slat who was only nineteen at the time of his invention making headlines, it comprised of a system of marine containment booms and a floating tower that collected, sorted, and stored material caught using the oceans own currents, capturing plastic waste mostly floating a few feet below the surface. UNIRO ships would then take the captured waste and take it to recycling and manufacturing plants that turned the waste into useful products or printing solutions to be used in 3D printers. Yearly, the system was cleaning millions of tons of plastic waste a year and would have the two patches clean within just over a decade.

Plastic, for all its miracle uses in the modern world, was still a product of the petroleum industry. Its lifespan was centuries in most cases and would, no matter how hard UNIRO or anyone tried, be apart of the geologic record, proof of what humans had done to the planet; their inheritance sealed within the crust of the Earth. Examples of this were already visible in some parts of the world where rock and plastic had fused together. Geologist had a name for it, plastiglomerates.

Human legacy would not be our bones such as the dinosaurs but our plastic. So great was this discovery learned by William in class that it helped scientist to declare a new epoch in Earth’s history, a new subdivision in the geologic timescale, the Anthropocene.

Epochs normally lasted millions of years, displaying evidence of their defined time through rock layers that could be studied. Some suggest mans started as recently as the Industrial Revolution, displaying how fast our awesome force for change over the planet took hold. In that time, humanity managed to touch and waste away almost every natural system in existence and even throw some out of existence.

Wasting materials was like wasting a life to UNIRO, it was unacceptable, unacceptable in a future where man wanted to be sustainable and people wanted to be safe. It was unacceptable to William because he had wasted so much of his own life. Knowing now from experience, he hated to see another person slip down the same path that led to a life of just floating, bobbing, and waiting, waiting to be picked up or waiting to sink to the bottom where one would stay; like the plastic in the sea, never to be otherwise used again.

Even though it was getting very late and another early morning start was tomorrow, William took his rental bicycle as if he were in the Tour de France and made his way to the rescue officer barracks near his own quarters to replace his wasteful team member. Each of the barracks was made from prefabricated modular two person rooms. They were four stories tall, had white walls, a clear window for each room, blue doors, and gray grated open-air walkways to reach them.

William doubled-stepped up the open stairs to the fourth floor where the Mamedov brother’s room was at the west end of the east, west running building. Windows were all mostly dark and except for the squeaking and creaking of some tree frogs and bugs the area was quiet. This quietness made it easier for William to hear the shouts coming from the Mamedov’s room as he drew closer. Light was coming from the window but the curtains were drawn. The shouting was not that of an argument but something more violent. Banging added to William’s concern for what could have been happening behind the blue door. William knocked. No answer. The shouting got worse, with more bangs and the sounds of things falling.

William knocked louder and said, “This is Captain Emerson, please open the door!” Still no answer and more shouting, yelling, bangs. “Open the door now! This is an order!” Again nothing, nothing except a bang on the door from the inside and yelling in Russian. “If you do not open the door I will use my master code to open the door!” As a senior officer he had a master code given to him so that he could manually override certain biometric locks depending on the locks security level; this one being at the barracks he would have no problem entering. William questioned whether or not to alert ISAF to the situation first but by the time they got there whatever was going on inside could already be over in a bloody way.

“I am coming in! Stand back!”

He typed in his code on a small keypad underneath the thumbprint scanner. The door clicked open. Inside were two beds on the left and right sides of the long, narrow room with connecting desk at the back wall. A mini-fridge was in the right front corner below the window and shelving was over both beds, some of which was knocked down. The door was at the front left corner of the room. William had to force it open as a dresser had been tipped over to block it.

Samir was holding Sergey down by the throat on the left bed; in his hand was an uncapped pen. Sergey was trying to desperately call for help in Russian, grabbing at Samir’s face to get him off. Both men were sweating and both looked to be hurt, with bruises and scratches on their necks and faces. Sergey’s nose was bleeding. William rushed over to grab Samir’s pen-wielding hand.

“Samir, get off him!” shouted William, lunging over to break up the altercation. Combat training kicked in from his Air Force days. William grabbed Samir’s arm and threw him off the bed, yanking the pen from him, putting him flat on the floor face down.

“What the hell are you doing, rescue officer? What are you doing? Get a hold of yourself!”

Samir did not fight back but William took no chances and restrained Samir’s arms behind his back as he crouched down on top of him. Curses in Russian were all that were coming from his mouth as he looked up at his frightened brother in the doorway.

William saw Sergey and shouted, “What the hell happened? Why was he attacking you?”

Sergey stuttered in Russian at first, with his head looking away from the room.

“Rescue Officer, Mamedov, what the hell happened? After seeing this ISAF is coming no matter what so you either talk to them or me first!”

Sergey gave his testament emotionally. “I was sitting at my desk and we were talking about him and not helping or caring or doing anything. Then he just attacked me. He threw me to the bed and started hitting me and yelling. I tried to call for help but he threw my earpiece away and ripped my glass tag off.” “He just attacked you? Samir, is this true?”

Samir was still on the ground underneath William, staring at Sergey with a look of anger that consumed his face in a cloak of rage.

“Yes, sir, it is true,” said Samir surprisingly calmly over the rage, never taking his eyes off his brother.

William did not expect him to confess so quickly.

“Listen to me, both of you, but especially you, Samir. This is really the last straw for you. I need to report this to my superiors and ISAF. This is ridiculous. Sergey, stay outside till ISAF gets here, please. Samir, sit up on the bed. You’ll be lucky if you’re here by the end of the week.” William picked Samir up off the floor and let him sit on the bed. He showed no rage or fear anymore and stared at the wall, face blank. Sergey started to enter the room again to reach for something under the fallen dresser but William saw him and told him to get out.

With the situation finally under some kind of control William called ISAF over his earpiece, “ISAF.”

Seconds later, “This is ISAF HQ, go ahead please, Captain Emerson.”

“Yeah, can I get security over to rescue officer barrack six, room 403, please? I got a fight that needs to be taken care of. At least one participant of altercation is to be considered dangerous and hostile to themselves and others.” “Roger, sir, assistance will be there shortly.”

“Thank you.”

William sat across from Samir and shook his head. “Samir, what the hell have you done? You could have had a chance with all this. This could have been an opportunity of a lifetime for you and now… this. I wanted to help you but now I don’t know what I can do.” “Captain, ISAF just arrived,” Sergey shouted from outside.

“Thank you, Sergey. When they get up here tell them everything. Don’t make any of this more difficult.”

“Yes, sir. I am truly sorry about all this, sir.”

“It’s okay, rescue officer, it wasn’t your fault. Just stay outside, okay.”

“Yes, sir.”

From down the open walkway through the door William heard the heavy boots of approaching guardsmen. William heard them address Sergey, asking him what had transpired; then one entered the room, heavily armed with a P90, wearing white body armor and black padding. He was holding zip tie handcuffs.

In a sadden address, William told them everything that he had seen and what he had had to do. The guardsman recorded it all on his glass tablet. Another guardsman came in to handcuff Samir, tending to his wounds afterwards on the bed. Through the talking in the room William heard another set of boots walking towards the room and to his dismay it was the boots of Major Hansen.

“What the hell is going on in here, Emerson? I get a call from ISAF about a disturbance with some members of Delta Group and then I walk into a sausage fest. What happened?”

William apprised him of the situation, Hansen getting redder and redder the more he was told. At the end of it he walked over to Samir and made him look up to his red face.

“Rescue Officer Samir Mamedov,” he said, “I hope you’re happy with yourself, mate, because by tomorrow this bed will be occupied by someone else and your ass will be on a jet back to Russia. Your actions since your arrival with UNIRO are not indicative of the kind of people we want working here. You’ll be fixed up and will sleep in the brig tonight while your things are collected for you.” “In ISAF Headquarters?” whispered Samir.

“Where else?” sassed Hansen.

Samir did not say anything. A look of fear returned to him. Hansen motioned for the guardsmen to remove him from the room.

“Get him outta here. He needs to get some sleep. His plane leaves at oh nine hundred. Rescue Officer Sergey Mamedov, get this room spotless for your new bed buddy. Your captain here will make sure that happens and will come back and check.” “Yes, sir,” said Sergey obediently.

Everyone left the room. Major Hansen went first, then William, then the two ISAF guardsmen. One guided Samir out with his hand on his shoulder. Samir’s hands were cuffed in front of him. Samir kept his head down, looking at the grated floor. Sergey remained behind them all, standing near his rooms open door, watching his brother be taken away, not knowing how long it would be till he saw him again. William knew their parents, if they could see this, would be devastated. Suddenly, Samir abruptly stopped. He looked up to William in front of him.

“Captain Emerson,” he said faintly.

Everyone stopped when he said this. The guardsman still had his hand on Samir’s shoulder. William and Hansen and the other guardsman were no more than six feet in front of Samir. LED light bars overhead illuminated them all in a kind of back alley feel, like gangs meeting to settle a score or start a turf war.

To everyone’s shock, Samir started chuckling and he grinned, almost with happiness. “Captain, I wish I could have been a member of your team, I really do. But know this, you are helping. You have rescued me.” “Excuse me?” William said, perplexed.

“You said you wished to help and you have, thank you. Thank you,” Samir nodded.

“What are you talking about, Rescue Officer?” asked Hansen.

“I don’t want to do it anymore. No matter what you may think of me sir, I am a good person. I know I am. I was forced to do wrong. I was forced, facing punishments worse than death from them. And now, I see I won’t be able to escape those punishments. There is no place to go to get away from them...” Hansen was growing very frustrated with Samir’s behavior now. “What the hell are you tal - ”

“Wait, stop. Let him finish,” cut off William, not even realizing who he had cut off in the moment.

“They are already here, Captain. Soon, more will come.”

“Calm down, Rescue Officer, calm down. Who is coming?” William asked.

“I’m sorry. This is all I can do.”

Samir nodded his head, looking at peace. It was all so bizarre. Hansen and William slowly started to approach him. Samir took his elbow and jammed it into the ISAF guardsman’s abdomen and shoved him into the wall. Still handcuffed, he awkwardly made his way over the handrailing of the walkway, throwing one leg over at a time until he was sitting on the bar.

“Nooo! Stop! Wait, wait Samir!” shouted William running over.

Samir slid off the edge but William grabbed his clasped hands before he fell.

“I’m not letting you go. You hear me, Samir?” gritted William. “I’m not letting go.”

Samir looked up through his outstretched arms and zip tied hands into William’s straining eyes. William’s torso was being crushed into the handrailing holding Samir’s weight. Hansen grabbed onto William’s jacket. The two men groaned.

“Use this, sir,” Samir whispered peacefully. “Find what needs to be found. This is only the end of the beginning.”

Samir thrust his hands free of William’s and fell, four stories to the concrete ground.