The Fallen (Amos Decker #4)(59)

“So you’re saying one day this place will just have robots?”

“Businesses don’t give a crap about creating jobs. They care about making money. With robots, you’ll just need some tech guys to maintain and repair them.”

“But if people don’t have jobs to make money, who’s going to buy all the stuff on those shelves?” asked Decker.

Ross grinned. “I don’t think the rich guys have thought that one through. Probably leaving it for the government to figure out. God help us if that’s the case.”

Decker pointed to a set of doors along a far wall. “Are those magnetometers?”

“Yes. That’s the employee entrance. We call our employees ‘associates.’ Anyway, as with any business, you have to deal with theft. They have to go through the magnetometers and also have their bags searched.”

“Does everybody have to go through it?” asked Decker.

“Yep, me included.”

“I understand the physical demands of working here are pretty tough.”

“We have to fill about four hundred orders a second, so it’s nonstop movement. A picker’s handheld device will receive a ping every time an order is placed. And the system directs the picker to the shelf where that item is. And the process starts. The workers here have to be able to lift about fifty pounds and walk or stand for up to twelve hours a day. And you’ll probably end up walking fifteen miles in a shift. But, hey, walking is good exercise, right? I make my rounds every day at the same time, checking on things.” He looked at his watch. “In fact, I’ll be heading out in about an hour to do just that. I get to hobnob with the workers, and it’s good for them to see management out there on the floor. But it’s not all fun and games. I have other managers on the floor and their job is to make sure the work gets done. We ride the people pretty hard, because upper level management rides us pretty hard. We don’t hit our quotas we’re looking for another job. And this place is so big it could hold over twenty football fields, so there’s a lot of ground to cover. We sometimes even ride bikes or three-wheelers to get to places faster and cover as much ground as possible. And with the new addition it’ll be half again bigger. And we have a climate control system, but it can still get pretty hot.”

“Well, obviously people want to work here.”

“The pay is good. Pickers start out at ten bucks an hour, plus health care and a 401(k) plan. You’re here five years, you’re making sixteen an hour. And we give out a decent amount of overtime and during big crunch periods like Christmas we have mandatory overtime, where they’ll work fifty-five to seventy hours a week. With the overtime, a lot of people here earn forty grand a year or more. These days that puts you in the middle class, especially if both husband and wife work here, and we have a lot of those. And hell, in this town that could even make you rich.”

“But Frank Mitchell told me you had trouble finding workers?”

“And he probably told you why. We have about a thousand employees but we always need more. And we’ll definitely need more with the new addition coming online. Problem is hundreds of the applicants couldn’t pass a drug test. Hell, it’s like that all over the country. Kids, parents, grandparents, all hooked on crap.” He paused. “There you have it, the world of the FCs.”

“Now let’s go to the world where Frank Mitchell lost his life,” said Decker.

Ross led Decker down a set of metal steps to the main floor and then down a long concourse to where the addition was being constructed. He had to unlock a door and they stepped into a cavernous area that largely resembled the space that they had just left. Only there were no people here and no products on the towering shelves.

“Normally there would be lots of construction workers here, but the police have closed that down while they investigate. I hope they let them back in soon. I’ve already gotten calls from management. They’re not happy about the shutdown. We’re on a tight time frame to get this piece done.”

“Cops don’t care about construction schedules.”

“I know that. I was on the phone with management when you showed up. I mean, I’m sure they’re sad that Frank died. Nobody deserved what happened to him, but it’s still a business.”

“Right,” said Decker, looking around. “So where did it happen?”

“Over here.”

Ross led him to an area on one side of the addition.

There was a column of robotic arms located here, although the tall shelves they would be lifting boxes onto were not yet in place. It was only concrete walls.

And on one section of wall Decker could see bloodstains and other human matter. Around the robotic arm at this space was yellow police tape.

“We’re not supposed to go inside the tape,” said Ross. “I guess you already know that,” he added hastily.

“Have the police gone over the area?”

“They were in yesterday and early this morning. Photos and diagrams and measuring stuff and dusting surfaces.”

“Pretty routine for something like this,” noted Decker. “Has anyone checked that robotic arm to see what happened?”

“The company that installed it is sending a team in to go over it with a fine-toothed comb. We have to get this figured out. I mean, this cannot happen again. No way. When Frank was found the thing still had a hold of him. He was smashed up against that wall. The arm can move in slow motions, or it can do rapid movements with enough force to rip your head off.”