A Spaceman

Chapter 11--One week later: A Big Deal

"Are you gonna get another one tonight?" she asks. She tends to help. So far as accomplices go she's not bad. Maybe I should have selected an apprentice sooner. The child is decent, if sarcastic company, and she is fairly willing to do the less graphic portions of the deed, such as heavy lifting and cleaning, which is good because I'm not getting any younger and these Russian lads are tall and solid muscle.

"Probably we're getting low," I say, "If you're up for it."

"Sure," she says, "I can't believe they aren't noticing that the supply of food they give us doesn't match what we're feeding them."

"I can. You'll find my dear that those who are above rarely look at what happens down below, and that is their fatal error in most cases," I tell her, handing her a knife to dry.

"Yeah," she says, quietly.

"How did you come to New Russia? You've never said what made you leave home, and you're awfully young," I say.

"I'm not that young," she says.

"Everybody is young from where I'm standing, how old are you? Sixteen? You're a child," I inform her.

"I'm seventeen that's a not a child," she says.

"It is to me, and anyway, what did bring you here? Don't you have any family?" I ask.

"My stupid mom has this stupid boyfriend, they wanted me to go to University and be a doctor," she says.

"Nothing wrong with being a doctor," I say.

"You're a doctor," I told her that the other day when she wanted to know where I learned to cut up bodies.

"And that's how I know most of them aren't psychotic, I am the enigmatic exception," I say.

"Yeah well---it wasn't for me, and I wanted to---I don't know, do stuff," she says, shaking her head, "Join Space Forces or something. But they wouldn't let me. so I came here and I was trying to get a job but my visa was up."

"You should have been sent home, and I wouldn't join Space Forces, so far as I'm aware they are primarily psychotic," I say.

"How do you know?' she asks.

"My little brother joined them and they willingly kept him therefore they are all psychotic or mentally incompetent, that's the only reason they would have kept him and not sent him back or shot him," I say, making her laugh.

"You say weird stuff," she says, smiling all the same.

"And what's so sad is, most of it's true," I say, with a sigh, "Isn't it about time for you to go and collect their plates?"

"Oh shit it is----I hate the way they look at me like I'm their freakin' servant, they're no better than me," she scoffs.

"Want me to do it?" I offer.

"No, you like lick your lips and look at their necks and it's creepy," she says, drying her hands, "I'll do it."

"You wouldn't see me," I laugh, amused.

"No, but I'd know you're doing it and we don't need to be caught your stupid plan is working," she says, getting the cart, "I'll be back in a minute."

"All right," I say, going back to my washing up. I reflect on the fact my imprisonment and in fact, enslavement, is not nearly as unpleasant as I thought it would be. Honestly, this is not that bad. Accommodations are comfortable. And I have plenty of material upon whom to exercise my unique talents. Not that bad in the grand experiences of life. I shall be a bit sad to leave New Russia and go back to New America after all this. Or once I escape I shall just stay here. Sophie is amusing company as well. I wonder what I'll do with her when I escape. I feel I ought to make sure she gets somewhere safely she is a child.