I decided to spend the day away from the octopuses, working
with Ghadir in the kitchen instead. We completed the necessary welding, to keep
the space ship parts together. It’s strange walking into a carbon filament room
– a vision I’m used to on earth – from the dim metallic gleam of the rest of
the colony. In contrast to the grey of the rest of Rabbah, the kitchen is
bright white. I wonder if the next ship will have enough extra pieces that we
could make a common room, in the same inviting shades. It takes very little
light to make this room seem like daylight.
After finishing the walls, we moved several crates of nutritional loaf from a nearby storage room – which I think we’ll turn into a common room once we have some sitting space inside – into the kitchen and organized them along the walls. “Organizing” is a loose term for the same meal over and over, I realize, but some of them are preserved to last longer than others, so we arranged the different colored boxes against different walls. We then hauled a printer into the kitchen and Ghadir showed me the containers she thought might work for food preservation.
“This one keeps dried foods organized,” she said, pointing to an image on the screen of a boxy container. “We can add any words we want on the side, so for example, when we begin drying seaweed, we can label this ‘Nori,’ or ‘Kelp.’ And this one,” she scrolled over to a jar with a tight lid, “is for pickled or brined foods. Until we get tomatoes, we won’t need many of these, and by then I hope I have enough store credit to purchase my own material for the project.”
“Don’t you want to pay off your debts?” I asked.
Ghadir’s shrug was full of nonchalance, not something I see often in the other ladies when I ask them about their lives back on earth. “I like the hard work here.”
I nodded in agreement. Ghadir’s smile in response could be its own power source.
“I thought you were forced to come here?” she asked me. I shook my head.
“But you were in court …?”
“Yes,” I said. “My husband sued for divorce and I had no way to pay back the company he worked for, but he sued for divorce because, well, I’ve been interested in much of this type of work – sewing, gardening – for as long as I can remember being interested in anything.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but her smile actually grew bigger.
“I am the same way,” she said, in response to what I’m sure was a very curious look on my face. “I have been interested in food, cooking it, growing it, since I can remember going to a restaurant with my parents and wondering where that food came from. My parents didn’t know and they wouldn’t answer me, because Senfte are meant only to communicate, take the lower castes’ work and present it to the upper castes.” She signed. “I got a job in a commercial kitchen, despite my parents’ desire for me to get a better job than them, perhaps in a call center. I learned to cook there. And …” she bit her lip.
“If it was a criminal thing, believe me, you can tell me,” I said. Without thinking, I put my hand on her shoulder, much like Vivien had yesterday. Ghadir also was unused to a non-Senfte physically interacting with others, but her caste is more used to this type of contact so she did not shrug away as quickly as I did.
“I started taking seeds from fruits and vegetables. I tried to grow them in a patch of soil in the park near my home.”
I smiled at her. “I did the same thing, except I found a group of gardening enthusiasts who met in secret at night and planted in a patch of soil near the outskirts of town. It was far enough away from my house that it wasn’t traced to me for years.”
We laughed together.
“I also,” I added, “Stupidly tried to grow an apple tree in a window box in my house. I think I just wanted to see a sprout, constantly, in my home. That was some evidence at my trial, let me tell you.”
Ghadir nodded. “I was mainly charged with theft from my workplace. I didn’t get anything to grow, but I took food home and created a vinegar mother and then vinegar and learned to brine and use citrus to preserve foods. I had quite a stash of canned vegetables, none of which I had legitimately bought.”
I nodded. “It’s strange to me, to think, that this is how we’re repaying society. We could easily have ended up on a chain gang, mining an asteroid for platinum, but here we are, using the knowledge that condemned us.”
“It’s true,” Ghadir replied. “I’m just grateful that I can get away from all of that.”
She showed me a few more images of containers, utensils, pots and pans to cook with. After I helped her load the printer with resin and carbon, I asked, “Do you want to go back?”
She shook her head. “No, actually, I want to stay here. I know most of you want to return when your debts are paid, but not me.”
I nodded. “I actually don’t want to go back, either. Chloe even suggested we, maybe, think of ourselves as a separate caste now, different from other people.”
“Kind of like the Moon Base inhabitants?”
“Kind of, yes.”
Ghadir was lost in thought for a moment, as the machine warmed up. Finally, she said, “I think that’s a good idea. We should suggest that to Breathe Easy.”
Well, Breathe Easy, it has been mentioned before, but I suppose this is our official suggestion to you. We don’t have full approval from the other women in the group, but I can’t imagine they would disagree, unless they plan to return to Earth.
I spent the rest of the day working with Ghadir to print some supplies, using the tiniest ration of material possible. We did not go over budget, but she did not seem happy with the results. I think we should be fine, as we will not be preserving food for a few more months anyway.
I did ask her if there was anything she could do to make the nutritional loaves taste better, or at least different, and she said she could try gathering salt – perhaps the first time a human has eaten salt from a non-Earth source! – and said she would start that project tomorrow. She also said, in very excited tones, that we will be able to supplement the loaves with bivalves and seaweed in the next week or so, and added that she had a secret recipe for fried rice that might translate to the nutritional loaves.
My mouth is still salivating, hours later.
Zariah and Yuda finally made the last upgrades to the computer system, installed our ship’s computers and began transferring programs over. They also completed repairs to the communications array, which did not involve either of them swimming around in the shimmering dark outside the station to fix any antennae.
We gathered in the glowing light of the screens, all 12 of us, and composed our first direct message to Breathe Easy. We tried to keep it as simple as possible, too.
We have arrived. Tear-down of the ship is almost complete. Need more printer material, industrial supplies for filters, more seeds. Octopuses not ready to help with barrels yet, but barrels filled easily. Please send supplies asap.
I hope it is not too demanding, but Chloe and I took responsibility for the message’s content and signed it before sending it off into space. Yuda said it would probably take two or three days to reach Earth, then two or three more days for a reply to come to us, so we should know by next week when our first supply ship arrives. And then someone will have to be brave enough to pilot it.
Suddenly that hard-earned nutritional loaf is not sitting so well in my stomach.
After finishing the walls, we moved several crates of nutritional loaf from a nearby storage room – which I think we’ll turn into a common room once we have some sitting space inside – into the kitchen and organized them along the walls. “Organizing” is a loose term for the same meal over and over, I realize, but some of them are preserved to last longer than others, so we arranged the different colored boxes against different walls. We then hauled a printer into the kitchen and Ghadir showed me the containers she thought might work for food preservation.
“This one keeps dried foods organized,” she said, pointing to an image on the screen of a boxy container. “We can add any words we want on the side, so for example, when we begin drying seaweed, we can label this ‘Nori,’ or ‘Kelp.’ And this one,” she scrolled over to a jar with a tight lid, “is for pickled or brined foods. Until we get tomatoes, we won’t need many of these, and by then I hope I have enough store credit to purchase my own material for the project.”
“Don’t you want to pay off your debts?” I asked.
Ghadir’s shrug was full of nonchalance, not something I see often in the other ladies when I ask them about their lives back on earth. “I like the hard work here.”
I nodded in agreement. Ghadir’s smile in response could be its own power source.
“I thought you were forced to come here?” she asked me. I shook my head.
“But you were in court …?”
“Yes,” I said. “My husband sued for divorce and I had no way to pay back the company he worked for, but he sued for divorce because, well, I’ve been interested in much of this type of work – sewing, gardening – for as long as I can remember being interested in anything.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but her smile actually grew bigger.
“I am the same way,” she said, in response to what I’m sure was a very curious look on my face. “I have been interested in food, cooking it, growing it, since I can remember going to a restaurant with my parents and wondering where that food came from. My parents didn’t know and they wouldn’t answer me, because Senfte are meant only to communicate, take the lower castes’ work and present it to the upper castes.” She signed. “I got a job in a commercial kitchen, despite my parents’ desire for me to get a better job than them, perhaps in a call center. I learned to cook there. And …” she bit her lip.
“If it was a criminal thing, believe me, you can tell me,” I said. Without thinking, I put my hand on her shoulder, much like Vivien had yesterday. Ghadir also was unused to a non-Senfte physically interacting with others, but her caste is more used to this type of contact so she did not shrug away as quickly as I did.
“I started taking seeds from fruits and vegetables. I tried to grow them in a patch of soil in the park near my home.”
I smiled at her. “I did the same thing, except I found a group of gardening enthusiasts who met in secret at night and planted in a patch of soil near the outskirts of town. It was far enough away from my house that it wasn’t traced to me for years.”
We laughed together.
“I also,” I added, “Stupidly tried to grow an apple tree in a window box in my house. I think I just wanted to see a sprout, constantly, in my home. That was some evidence at my trial, let me tell you.”
Ghadir nodded. “I was mainly charged with theft from my workplace. I didn’t get anything to grow, but I took food home and created a vinegar mother and then vinegar and learned to brine and use citrus to preserve foods. I had quite a stash of canned vegetables, none of which I had legitimately bought.”
I nodded. “It’s strange to me, to think, that this is how we’re repaying society. We could easily have ended up on a chain gang, mining an asteroid for platinum, but here we are, using the knowledge that condemned us.”
“It’s true,” Ghadir replied. “I’m just grateful that I can get away from all of that.”
She showed me a few more images of containers, utensils, pots and pans to cook with. After I helped her load the printer with resin and carbon, I asked, “Do you want to go back?”
She shook her head. “No, actually, I want to stay here. I know most of you want to return when your debts are paid, but not me.”
I nodded. “I actually don’t want to go back, either. Chloe even suggested we, maybe, think of ourselves as a separate caste now, different from other people.”
“Kind of like the Moon Base inhabitants?”
“Kind of, yes.”
Ghadir was lost in thought for a moment, as the machine warmed up. Finally, she said, “I think that’s a good idea. We should suggest that to Breathe Easy.”
Well, Breathe Easy, it has been mentioned before, but I suppose this is our official suggestion to you. We don’t have full approval from the other women in the group, but I can’t imagine they would disagree, unless they plan to return to Earth.
I spent the rest of the day working with Ghadir to print some supplies, using the tiniest ration of material possible. We did not go over budget, but she did not seem happy with the results. I think we should be fine, as we will not be preserving food for a few more months anyway.
I did ask her if there was anything she could do to make the nutritional loaves taste better, or at least different, and she said she could try gathering salt – perhaps the first time a human has eaten salt from a non-Earth source! – and said she would start that project tomorrow. She also said, in very excited tones, that we will be able to supplement the loaves with bivalves and seaweed in the next week or so, and added that she had a secret recipe for fried rice that might translate to the nutritional loaves.
My mouth is still salivating, hours later.
Zariah and Yuda finally made the last upgrades to the computer system, installed our ship’s computers and began transferring programs over. They also completed repairs to the communications array, which did not involve either of them swimming around in the shimmering dark outside the station to fix any antennae.
We gathered in the glowing light of the screens, all 12 of us, and composed our first direct message to Breathe Easy. We tried to keep it as simple as possible, too.
We have arrived. Tear-down of the ship is almost complete. Need more printer material, industrial supplies for filters, more seeds. Octopuses not ready to help with barrels yet, but barrels filled easily. Please send supplies asap.
I hope it is not too demanding, but Chloe and I took responsibility for the message’s content and signed it before sending it off into space. Yuda said it would probably take two or three days to reach Earth, then two or three more days for a reply to come to us, so we should know by next week when our first supply ship arrives. And then someone will have to be brave enough to pilot it.
Suddenly that hard-earned nutritional loaf is not sitting so well in my stomach.
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