“Which one of you repaired the clothes?”
I don’t know where this question is going. “We repaired our own clothes, though some are more skilled than others.”
“But you can wash and mend clothing?”
“I can also drink and breathe.” Looking after your possessions is not a skill. Though from the look on his face, I can guess that he has never held a needle and fixed anything.
“We have a laundry for washing and repairs.”
“What is a laundry?”
“It is the place where we send our clothes to be washed.”
They send their clothes away to be washed and mended, taking no responsibility for what happens to their things. “And you do not wash them in the river.”
“No, we have machines. And the people who operate them also fix any damage to the clothes. If the clothing is beyond repair, they issue replacements.”
“And who makes the replacements?”
“That is something that is being looked into.”
They cannot make their own clothes. They do not know how to fix or wash their own clothes. It is no wonder they also do not know how to feed themselves. “I can wash and fix clothes. The only thing worse than a hungry body is a cold one. Every tribe takes care of those too young to tend those needs.”
He takes a moment to process my words. I do not think the whisperer translates the edge I implied because he seems quite relieved from the sigh and easing of his shoulders. Or perhaps he does not care that I insinuated he is of no more use than a child…a child still in swaddling.
“Very true. I’ll put you down for the laundry. Someone will come to your quarters tomorrow morning to collect you and show you where it is. That person will also show you how to do the job.”
“They are to be my mentor?”
“Yes.” His initial relief is vanishing, and he is assessing me.
“Excellent.” At least they care enough to show me how to do my assigned job.
His gaze narrows.
I bite back on the sigh. Is there nothing that pleases this man? “Is there a problem?”
“Um…why are you willing to work in the laundry?”
“Because aside from food and housing, clothing is essential to survival. No one likes to smell like shit because their clothes haven’t been washed in a very long time.” That’s when I realize these people do not value those whose job it is to ensure they are clothed.
I wonder if they also treat their hunters and farmers poorly.
What dysfunctional tribe have we joined?
5
HARPER
Just before I finish work, the boss, a man in his late sixties who was one of the youngest to leave earth, told me that tomorrow I will start training one of the aliens. I thought the aliens were supposed to be teaching us, not the other way round.
I collect my dinner and sit with my friends. Of course, all they can talk about is the aliens. One of them works in the hospital, another is a teacher. Without any children to teach, the teachers have been preparing lessons and teaching English, something that wasn’t compulsory on the ship. My parents insisted that I learned, and I’m glad I did.
But we are now preparing for a time when technology breaks.
If the washing machines break, people can do their own bloody laundry, though I’m happy to continue doing repairs and alterations.
“And I start teaching them in three days.” Rochelle glances at me as if expecting me to say something.
