The Journal of Kuzumos

The Journal of Kuzumos Kuz is a fan-fiction autobiography of Kuzumos, great-grandfather of Kuzon by TheGreatKuzon!. It begins when he is 20. The journal was carried through generations. It is a new part of The Kuz Origin series. It highlights what life was like during the droughts of Planet Plant and the hardships growing up as a Saiyan in the pre-Saiyan-Tuffle war Planet Plant.

Age 633
06/14/633 ~ Working in the hard, hot desert fields in the middle of a sweltering extreme drought is one thing, but only getting break every 4 hours for 10 minutes only is another. I strike my hammer down on the nails of my field wagon, which tipped over ‘cause of a rock in the tall grass. Everyone gets a working partner, and mine is Tomas. He doesn’t say much, he is a young guy, about 17, and just loads in crops and helps plant. I get left row, he gets right. We know how it works. We all do, eventually.

When extreme heat droughts occur on the planet, in the deserts mainly, which are common and happen about every 15 years, both Tuffles and Saiyans suffer. If a Saiyan is hard-work age and is fully grown (around 17 years old), he is forced to go work on farms, plant and harvest crops to feed the others. The plantations usually have real strict older overlookers that patrol us, and if we don’t do our work or fall asleep, he kills us. Two reasons; one, there’s no room for non-productivity when there are families to feed; two: the lower the population, the better and less-effected. It is quick, cheap labor. Every 4 hours or so, we get called into mess hall, which is a cheap wooden hall-shack in the middle of the field. It has showers with limited used dirty water, some meat which hangs on wires outside to cook, and benches to rest. After about 10 minutes, he calls us back out to work. It’s like a prison camp. But it’s for a good cause.

I just finished loading in a big bale of Xucrums, which are a type of small, juicy meaty fruit. Since its a drought, their growth has been cut 80%. Every 5 plants actually has a good one not consumed by flies yet. I j-sdhfj ... just got yelled at to stop writing on the job. Better get to work.

Tomas just finished nailing the fourth wheel on the wagon. Now we can get done faster (not that it makes much of a difference though). As I write, I am trekking, feeling every brown stem sticking up from the light brown grass I walk on. Under that, is cool sand. I wish we had shade like that. The sun is sweltering hot, and many workers die out here every day from dehydration, heat stroke, even disease. Some murder. This drought isn’t treating us too kindly like last time, which occurred when I was about 4.

I’ve been bit one too many times out here by Xucrumers. Xucrumers are large, bee-like red and brown flies that feed off of juicy Xucrums. We used to have pesticide, but apparently it melted a week ago. So that’s not an option now. When I got stung by that one, which I reckon was a year ago, my leg was completely red for 7 months. Every time I took a left-step, I heard a crack. I felt like my femur was going down on me. .. Mess hall isn’t for another 2 and a half hours. I got work to do.

...

These halls need more fanning. I’m sure they’re purposely torturing us just so they can get rid of us. I reckon there are around 75 of us working out here, take away about 7 every day, and add another. Tomas is sitting across from me as I write, chowing down on his Rifor meat. Rifors are large herbivous 3-legged beasts that run around in the eastern woods around 40-45 miles from here. This mess hall is out around 3 miles from my village on the cliffside. No one is reccommended to go over the cliff, because of 1) the sweltering heat and 2) the beasts. On the bottom of the cliffs, it is really flat, hot, and dangerous. Hallucinations. We are down here, but we are forced, and we’re used to it now. It is hard life. Not many are up for this challenge.

We aren’t allowed to eat any of the crops we harvest. None. One of the strictest rules, next to running away, which no one does anyway because no Saiyan here knows the territory outside the county fence, which is about a mile from here. I saw a Saiyan eat some Xucrums he plant and got, one of the biggest and juciest I ever seen. He thought he was getting away with something. I am sure he regretted that move when I saw the overseer smash his gut in and throw him across the fence. Omota (god of saiyans) knows what happened that guy.

It’s about nightfall now. Instead of cooling down, as you’d expect; during this drought, it goes from really hot in the day, to hot at night. We get 3 hours of sleep. Saiyans normally don’t need that much sleep, so 3 hours is about adequate. Some of us don’t even go to bed for three days then we sleep 9 hours the fourth day. We’re all different. I do the normal 3-hour sleep. It’s dangerous though. One, the job (remind you, we are forced to do) doesn’t include bedding. We have to sleep (with our farming partners; some have 3) in our wagons. Some of us don’t have wagons, you earn them, and so you have to sleep with two Saiyans you don’t know from the village and back, and sometimes, you just sleep on the hard, hot ground. It’s dangerous, of course. All the bugs.

It’s about 11 pm now, and me and Tomas cropped most of our assigned part. We loaded the Xucrums in the wagon, brought them to the main building where the overseer is, and dumped them. From there, they are cut off and peeled by higher-ranked workers who already done did their share of field work, and brought by wagon to the villages. The wagon smells like Xucrum, which is a musty, wet smell. The floor of it, which is naily wood, has dead Xucrumer flies laying all over it. Tomas is getting in the wagon and picking them up. I get the tarp on the side of the wagon, and throw it over the wagon, and we both get in and lay on small blankets. It is really cramped, but we make it. .. Well, Tomas is telling me to get to bed, because he is a light sleeper, and when I get in, the wagon shakes.

06/15/633 ~ It is about 2:45 am. I know because of the moon dial I have handy from my father. On Planet Plant, the sun shows up at around 4am and goes down about 10pm. I am standing, writing this journal against the side of the wagon. Tomas should be waking soon, I’ll have to do it. 5 more minutes until the overseer starts yelling, which is like exactly 2:50 every day. So far, 23 days in a row.

Tomas woke up of course, without my assistance, and immediately got to work. He's had a strange work-spurt lately, usually he isn't this determined. I think it is to make up for his embarassment when he slacked off all day thinking about the girls back home he missed, and didn't hardly get any planting done. He is a strong, good boy. Or, should I say, man. No one who has the audacity to work out in these conditions deserves the title "boy". Once you step foot at the cliffs, you are a man, at least in my book (except that one strange kid..never did find out what happened to him).

Just worked for 23 minutes to the second straight. My hands are blistering about now. If the overseer was here, he'd be lecturing us about how people who don't work die. No one challenges him. That would mean trouble. It's been 83 years since us Saiyans landed on this planet and made do, which was around Age 550. The overseer looks about 90. Not many still here that have experienced that event. I am surprised he is, I am sure he is too. I loaded the Xucrums in the wagon with a whole arm full, followed by Tomas doing the same. We continued to do this all day long, just like a normal day. Nothing really interesting to report on this day. Mark, 11:23 pm.

06/16/633 ~ Tomas woke up before me about 10 minutes ago and that was surprising. I must be getting heavy. I recently turned into my 20 years. Most of the Saiyans here are around 19 to 23. The drought started 3 years ago, but I started a year late, so I started when I was 18. It wasn't until now I actually thought of what I am doing with my life. Sadly, now I regret it. While Tomas is on full production today, about 40 feet in front of me,  I stand back here pulling the wagon.

"HEY! Slow down, would ya?! This wagon isn't that easy to pull, and I'm big compared to most!" I yelled to Tomas, who didn't appear to hear me. If the overseer sees this, which he is known to 'pop in' on occasion, he will be pissed. I started going up and down the rows looking over every damn brown plant. I picked about 13 Xucrums, throwing them in the wagon. The more Xucrums you take in, the more pay you get (which isn't that much in the first place). They have a hard shell, but the inside is real soft, so you have to be careful. Ruining one has big effect. Missing one is another story. The overseers' guards come up and down the rows to check for any missed ones. If he spots one, whoever was assigned there, is considered "long dead".

Tomas returned about 2 minutes ago and apologized for getting ahead of himself. I shot a reply back at him. "That's just not cool, Tom. If the overseer caught you, you'd be out of the game. Or I." He apologized and he offered to pull the wagon. I was about to refuse the offer, but he grabbed the handle and started pulling, breathing like a mule, chugging down the rows. I could see other Saiyan pairs off 300 feet, pulling their wagons, picking crops. We don't plant crops until the spring. That's not until March.

We all got raddled up a few minutes ago, when me and Tomas saw one of the pairs of croppers get in a fight. The heat got to their heads, and this isn't even a bad day. On bad days, my ink in this journal would be melting, and I wouldn't be writing anyway. I am glad I can afford a quill to write with at least. I am not that dirt poor. The fight between the croppers ended with the bigger one landing a blow into the other. In a plot twist, the little one pulled out a knife and javved it into the big one's heart, and he fell dead. I didn't even know weapons were allowed out here, because of that. But, some get away with it. Wait un- DAMN! The little one just fell on the knife, passed out, and the knife went through his chest, its popping out his back. He's dead. ... That means, extra work for some unlucky rascal. Hopefully it isn't me and Tomas.

It is.

It's just turned 1pm. The overseer came and checked out the deadies, and seen us first, so, he came over and told us we got extra duty. "You two got extra work to get done, because of those fools over there. Get started, and don't let me catch you rumpin' or I'll gut you both."

Me and Tomas immediately trekked to the other field we weren't originally assigned, and began work. Luckily, the two deadies finished it half off. The sad part is, half of it was actually only 1/4. They must've been new ones. The new ones get the big shifts. We have work to do. Oh yeah, rumpin' means paying money or making deals or fights with other workers to have them do what you was assigned. If I pay you, you will do my work for me, and I'll do your easier work. When it comes to money, we are all for it. More money, more food, more showers. Many Saiyans become thieves in the mess hall and have little colony groups set up, all with the same purpose to rip you off. The guards are cracking down on that this year.

I don't know how much longer this journal can last, to whom whoever reads this in the near future. Hopefully it doesn't get stolen. Workers like to make fires and use the paper as blankets. Don't ask me, some are just that lazy. I try to keep the ink well cool on the wagon, but some days that can't happen. They're predicting one of the hottest days tomorrow, so I will try to write a journal 'morrow, but no assurance it will work. Let's see.

06/17/633 ~ Th jornuL is nut com n along ood, as i ex ect d. Ne d to wait fur the  nk to wet en. *blurry ink writing*

Translation: The journal is not coming along good, as I expected. Need to wait for the ink to wetten. It is scorching hot out here. I feel.. I fhslhkj... I feel like I am about to pass out..ugh.. Tomas is barely striving. The sun is so damn hot, it is like it is literally punching me with a fist made of fire. I saw about 3 Saiyans pass out so far, and it is only 11pm. The sun doesn't even fully rise until 2pm. The overseer is not out today obviously. His bald head'd be red. Apparently, he used to have a huge head of hai- ajhlksad dkk can't last might longer in this heat.. can't work anymore.. I'm hanging on to the waaaagoo-...

Tomas just passed out, I threw him up in the back of the wagon to rest. Hopefully he doesn't damage any of the Xucrums. He's a light boy, he shouldn't. I genetically got muscle on me, my father was a musclehead as a child. I have 15 siblings, I am the youngest. My oldest brother Kuzafeos doesn't live around here anymore. He left the village a few years ago with a daughter and a wife. Haven't heard from him. Father died 3 years ago. My father had 38 siblings. Now THAT is something I can't see happening now.

..!  One of the guards just spotted me under the wagon writing a few minutes ago. I hurried and got up and started working again.

"I reckon we have someone being lazy? Or writing in this piece of garbage?" said the guard, as he grabbed the journal from my hands and threw it to the ground. He was about to shoot it with a blast and disenigrate it, but he threw it in the wagon and pushed me and demanded I get to work or die. That was about 4 minutes ago. He is gone now. When will Tomas wake up? I need to get back to work. This journal is all I have.. I got a drink of water from my canister. I have to save some for Tomas.

9:30pm. It's been 10 hours of extreme sweat and work. Tomas woke up about an hour after he passed and resumed work lightheaded. I made it threw ignoring the heat (which is hard as hell). Now I'm going to be sick tonight.

11:30pm. Bed time. "I'm not sleepin' in the wagon tonight, I don't wanna get you sick. I'll put my cot down here." I told Tomas. I took my small pillow and fur blanket and laid them on the hard, hot ground. It is actually cool tonight. I put another one on me, to make sure no bugs get me. I am writing this journal under the starry night sky right now, covered by my silky fur I spent a months-worth of money on last year. But it's worth it.

06/18/633 ~