After Supper, Before Tomorrow
Oakmont-Verona-Plum Development Site, Pennsylvania
May 17, 2440, 8:14 PM
Frank Bakkal had finished his second helping and was considering whether he wanted more steak.
Kate was considering the next day’s construction schedule.
D’vann was trying to persuade S’rethi that she had inspected enough geological data for one evening.
“It’s going to be there tomorrow,” he told her.
“Some of it may fall into another hole.”
“Then we’ll have something to investigate.”
“That’s your preferred approach?”
“No. My preferred approach is to finish my beer.”
S’rethi smiled and set down her tablet.
The managers remained at one of the outdoor tables while workers drifted back toward the accommodation shuttles or lingered around the grills.
Behind them stood eight Quonset frames, forty feet wide and one hundred feet long, arranged in a single row.
The kitchen was the only building fully operational. Work continued on the others, with some crews finishing the day’s enclosure and service assignments.
Frank looked toward the Quonsets.
“Tomorrow we get the rest of those shells finished and start getting the workshops and offices usable.”
“Not all at once,” Kate said.
“I know.”
“The crews finishing the first workshop can start installing benches and storage while the others move through the remaining enclosures.”
“And the lumber?”
“Enough on hand to keep the interior crews busy. More coming.”
“Good.”
D’vann glanced toward the kitchen.
“At least one building is finished.”
“Finished enough to do its job,” Frank answered. “I’ll take that.”
S’rethi looked at the lit windows.
“It’s remarkable how much happier people are with somewhere to cook.”
Frank laughed.
“Try feeding a couple hundred people without one.”
“I believe I’ll decline the experiment.”
Kate reached for another item on her tablet.
“Somebody asked whether Pennsylvania is going to have its own social network.”
“Like the Leta group?” S’rethi asked.
“Exactly. Marmaduke Media provides the service for the Trust. People want to find one another, keep up with what happens here, and have somewhere to share things with friends and family.”
“Then we should have one,” D’vann said.
T’ira, who had joined them after finishing her evening communications report, looked up.
“That would be useful. We have people asking where they can send photographs, how they can contact families working here, and whether the Trust will be publishing regular construction updates.”
“I’ve got a request ready for Marmaduke Media,” Kate said. “But since you’re the Trust’s communications officer assigned to this project, I wanted you involved before I submitted it.”
T’ira accepted the tablet.
“Thank you.”
She reviewed the proposal.
“The project announcements should come through the Trust’s communications office. Marmaduke Media can administer the service, but the Trust needs to know what is being published in its name.”
“Agreed,” Kate said.
“General progress, photographs, selected comments from the workers. I can manage the Trust reporting and coordinate with the people responsible for public releases.”
Frank nodded.
“And put some pictures up. Show people what we’re actually doing.”
“That’s part of it,” Kate answered. “People outside Pennsylvania should be able to see the project taking shape.”
“Provided we don’t turn every geological survey into a public spectacle,” S’rethi said.
T’ira smiled.
“I don’t intend to post every hole we find.”
“Good,” her mother replied.
“Though the rovers falling into one might attract attention.”
“Then perhaps wait until we know what’s beneath it.”
Kate continued.
“And the site needs recruitment.”
D’vann looked interested.
“We’re going to need a great many more people.”
“Exactly. Job listings and a chatbot that answers questions about available work. Inquiries and applications go to the V’ren Trust.”
“Then they come to me,” R’alen said, arriving at the table with his own tablet.
D’vann looked at his son.
“Have you finished your personnel reports?”
“Everything except tomorrow’s final adjustments. I’m waiting for the night shift to confirm two assignments.”
Kate turned toward him.
“Good timing. You’re going to be the person receiving the applications and recruitment information. T’ira handles the communications side.”
R’alen examined the proposed workflow.
“The chatbot can answer general questions. But the actual applications need to arrive in the personnel system with the applicants’ qualifications and the work they’re interested in.”
“That’s the plan,” Kate said.
“And I’d like a way to identify people who have already worked on other Trust projects. If they have training or experience we need, I don’t want to make them start from nothing.”
“That can be arranged.”
T’ira looked at him.
“I’d also like your office to tell mine what positions we’re advertising before people begin asking questions about them.”
“Reasonable.”
“Preferably before somebody is told to report here for a job we don’t have.”
“Also reasonable.”
D’vann looked between his children.
“Remarkable. They’re communicating.”
S’rethi smiled into her drink.
R’alen ignored him.
“I’ll send you the staffing report each morning.”
“And I’ll make sure the published positions match it,” T’ira answered.
Kate nodded.
“Then that’s settled.”
Frank glanced at the tablet.
“Submit it.”
Kate did.
Marmaduke Media would receive the request to add Pennsylvania to the Trust’s existing system. T’ira would coordinate the communications material. R’alen would handle the personnel side.
The arrangement gave each of them a real responsibility rather than a title attached to their parents’ work.
D’vann watched the two review the details.
“They’ve taken to this rather well,” he said quietly to S’rethi.
“They have.”
“You were worried.”
“I was concerned they would spend their lives being told how important their names were without being given much opportunity to prove themselves.”
“And now?”
“Now they’re arguing about reports and job applications.”
He smiled.
“A promising beginning.”
8:39 PM
“The people who will live here should also be able to discuss the kinds of neighbors and businesses they want,” D’vann said.
T’ira made a note.
“Then we need discussion boards for prospective residents, not just workers.”
“And the Trust should listen to them,” S’rethi said.
“Certainly.”
Frank looked toward the unfinished Quonsets.
“Wouldn’t hurt to know what businesses people actually want before we’re trying to fit out a dozen different shops.”
Kate nodded.
“That’s part of what the discussion boards can tell us. And the recruitment side should help identify people who might want to operate them.”
A V’ren supervisor farther down the table asked whether the project would eventually need a separate public-relations office.
“Possibly,” D’vann answered. “But we have enough work without inventing one tonight.”
Frank lifted his beer.
“Now there’s a policy I can support.”
The conversation returned to tomorrow’s assignments.
The eastern restrictions remained in place, but the western grading areas had been released. The foam deliveries would continue overnight, and the survey crews would have more subsurface information by morning.
“R’alen?” D’vann asked.
He looked up.
“The accommodation shuttles are accounted for. The late deliveries are scheduled. We have enough personnel to keep the approved grading work moving.”
“And the new workers?”
“Assignments are ready. The morning crews have their instructions.”
“Your T-24?”
“Right where I left it.”
“Good. I’d hate to have to send someone looking for your shuttle.”
R’alen gave him a puzzled look.
“Why would anyone have to look for it?”
D’vann shrugged.
“I was making conversation.”
Frank returned to the construction schedule.
“I’ll get the shell crews started as soon as the morning checks are finished.”
Kate made another note.
“Speaking of schedules, His Lordship is going to be occupied in Columbia for the week.”
“With T’mari?” S’rethi asked.
“That’s what the schedule says. There are several Collective meetings and his own company boards.”
“Wasn’t he meeting with Marmaduke Inc. today?”
“Yes. Ashton went back for it.”
“Did he make it?” D’vann asked.
“He did,” Kate answered. “And I understand he had quite a bit to say about yesterday.”
S’rethi smiled.
“I would expect nothing less.”
“He was rather enthusiastic about the Wonder Foam,” Kate continued.
“He had his hands in it,” D’vann said. “I suspect that’s the best way to make a materials scientist enthusiastic.”
“Will His Lordship be available at the Homestead?” S’rethi asked.
“Not for face-to-face meetings while he’s in Columbia.”
D’vann nodded.
“Nothing unexpected. Those meetings were planned well before the Kalnareth arrived.”
“It’s the twenty-second that has the large Collective session, isn’t it?” Kate asked.
“Yes,” D’vann answered. “Quarterly business. There are fifty seats in the Collective, with regular monthly sessions and four larger meetings each year.”
Frank smiled.
“People outside Columbia keep describing Matt as though he’s running the place.”
“Four of fifty seats,” Kate said.
“That’s plenty of influence,” Frank answered, “without pretending he has the other forty-six.”
D’vann considered that.
“An interesting arrangement.”
“Columbia’s been doing things its own way for a long time,” Frank said.
S’rethi glanced at the unfinished buildings.
“And we’ll have plenty to do here while His Lordship is occupied.”
“More than plenty,” Kate answered.
She closed her tablet.
“Anything else tonight?”
“Not from me,” Frank said.
D’vann looked toward S’rethi.
“Can we leave the mountains alone until morning?”
“I suppose so.”
“Excellent.”
Frank got up.
“I’m going to make sure the kitchen crew has what they need for breakfast.”
“You’ve been thinking about the kitchen all day,” D’vann observed.
“And now I’m thinking about breakfast.”
S’rethi laughed.
“A man of admirable consistency.”
The Bunkhouse Crowd
9:31 PM
“Moose, if you eat another hamburger, somebody’s going to have to roll you into bed.”
Jake Whetherall looked up from his plate.
“I’m a growing boy.”
“You’ve been growing for thirty years,” Jude Walsh said.
“And I intend to keep growing.”
Joren Hale glanced over from the wildlife reports on his tablet.
“Mostly sideways.”
“That hurts, Joren.”
“Not as much as tomorrow’s work will if you eat another three pounds of venison.”
Jake contemplated the remaining hamburger.
“Worth it.”
The communal T-48 had settled into its evening routine. Sleeping compartments lined the walls, their zippered closures giving the occupants some privacy. The central lounge was occupied by workers who weren’t quite ready for bed.
The bathrooms were busy, someone was sorting laundry, and several people were reviewing tomorrow’s assignments. Others had their feet up, enjoying the luxury of being somewhere that didn’t require a hard hat.
The family accommodations were in the other two T-48s. Here, the individually housed workers had shared facilities and enough room to socialize without standing around a construction site.
Ella Murphy emerged from the bathing area with damp hair and a fresh change of clothes.
“Jesus, that feels better.”
“Hot water?” Jude asked.
“Hot water, clean clothes, and nobody asking me whether the kitchen’s ready.”
Jake grinned.
“Is the kitchen ready?”
“Fuck you, Moose.”
Joren laughed.
Jake raised his hamburger.
“I was only asking.”
“You asked me six times this afternoon.”
“Seven,” Jude corrected.
“Thank you. Seven.”
“Eight if you count when he asked whether the refrigerator was working,” Joren added.
Ella dropped into an empty chair.
“Somebody should have made him install the damned thing.”
“I offered to help.”
“You offered to supervise.”
“An important distinction.”
Ella reached for a bottle of water.
“Well, it’s done. Frank got his kitchen. We all got supper. Everybody’s happy.”
“Especially Frank,” Jude said.
“Frank looked happier when that kitchen went online than when the eighth frame went up.”
Jake nodded.
“Can’t eat a Quonset frame.”
“Can’t eat a fusion plant either,” Ella said.
“That’s why I prefer the kitchen.”
Jude passed his tablet to Jake.
“Look at this.”
The photograph showed the eight enormous Quonset frames in a single row against the bare, graded landscape. The kitchen stood enclosed at one end, its lights visible through the entrance.
Jake studied it.
“That’s a hell of a day’s work.”
“Send it to somebody who wasn’t here yesterday,” Joren suggested. “They won’t believe the difference.”
“I already sent one to my brother,” Jude said.
“What’d he say?”
“Asked when we’re building the houses.”
Ella laughed.
“Tell him when we’ve got somewhere to work, somewhere to put the equipment, and somewhere to keep all the shit we’re going to need to build them.”
“He said the place looks like the moon.”
“Tell him the moon has fewer holes,” Joren said.
Jake handed back the tablet.
“Have you got the picture of everybody eating outside?”
Jude found it.
Long tables stood beneath the open evening sky. People were eating, talking, standing beside the grills, and carrying plates from the new kitchen.
Behind them stretched the row of industrial buildings.
“Now that’s a better picture,” Jake said.
“Why?”
“Looks like somebody actually lives here.”
“We do,” Ella answered.
“Not for long if you keep eating like that,” Joren told him.
Jake looked mournfully at his hamburger.
“You’re determined to ruin my evening.”
“It’s nearly ten. Your evening’s already ruined.”
Across the lounge, two workers were arguing about the identification of an animal caught on one of the surveillance drones.
“That’s a bear.”
“It’s not a bear.”
“What’s it supposed to be?”
“How the hell should I know? That’s why I asked you.”
Joren sighed.
“Give me the tablet.”
“You recognize it?”
“I might if you’d stop waving the screen around.”
The image changed.
He studied it for a moment.
“Bear.”
The first worker threw up his hands.
“Thank you!”
“Didn’t say what kind.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s a bear.”
Joren handed the tablet back.
“Stay out of its way.”
“That’s the plan.”
Ella leaned back in her chair.
“I still can’t believe they killed that enormous deer and had it ready for supper.”
“Half the thing went back to Missouri,” Jude said.
“I’m not surprised. Those antlers were ridiculous.”
Jake shook his head.
“Imagine having that thing come through your windshield.”
“Imagine being the insurance adjuster,” Ella replied.
A worker at the next table laughed.
“Cause of accident?”
“Deer.”
“What kind of deer?”
“The kind that totaled the car.”
Jude looked at Joren.
“How far out are the wildlife patrols going tonight?”
“Far enough to keep the large animals away from the equipment and accommodation shuttles. We’ve got drones in the air.”
“Any trouble?”
“Nothing that needs us.”
“Good.”
Jake stretched his legs.
“Maybe tomorrow somebody will find a moose.”
Ella looked at him.
“Why?”
“So I can finally meet a distant relative.”
“I’m going to bed.”
“No, you’re not. You just got comfortable.”
“Then stop talking.”
9:48 PM
A few minutes passed while Jude answered a message.
“Emily wants more pictures.”
“Your cousin?” Joren asked.
“Yeah.”
“Send her the supper picture.”
“Already did.”
“What does she think?”
“She says we look like we’re having a party.”
“We were,” Jake said.
“We were eating supper,” Ella corrected.
“Had beer. Had steak. Had good company. Sounds like a party.”
“Somebody ought to put all these pictures on a Pennsylvania board,” one of the workers said.
Jude nodded.
“People were talking about that at supper.”
“Leta’s already got one,” Jake said. “Their town administrator put in the request and Marmaduke Media added it.”
“Then Pennsylvania can get one,” Ella said.
“Kate submitted the request tonight,” Jude answered.
“Good. Saves everybody sending the same photographs to fifty different people.”
“Plus people back home can follow what we’re building,” Jake said.
“And find out whether there are jobs,” another worker added.
Jude nodded.
“That’s being worked into the Trust’s system. Listings, recruitment chatbot, the whole thing.”
“Who’s handling it?” Joren asked.
“R’alen’s the personnel officer. And T’ira’s the Trust communications officer.”
Jake looked interested.
“D’vann’s kids?”
“Yep.”
“That’s a lot of work for a couple of young people.”
Ella shrugged.
“They’ve got to start somewhere. R’alen’s already been sorting half our personnel problems, and T’ira’s been making sure everybody knows which parts of Pennsylvania we’re allowed to stand on.”
“She doing a good job?” Jude asked.
“I’m not standing in a hole, am I?”
“Fair point.”
“Besides,” Ella added, “we’ve got people younger than them running equipment worth more than this entire county used to be.”
“Such as yourself?” Jake asked.
“I’ll have you know I’m an experienced electrical worker.”
“Never said otherwise.”
“Then mind your hamburger.”
Jude’s tablet chimed again.
He looked at the message and grinned.
“What?” Ella asked.
“Apparently Matt’s still in Columbia with T’mari.”
“That’s not news.”
“It is to the people arguing about it.”
Joren looked up.
“Which people?”
“Pretty much everybody who’s discovered they can post a comment.”
Jake chuckled.
“Somebody’s probably already announced the wedding.”
“Which wedding?” Ella asked.
“That’s the question.”
Jude scrolled.
“One group thinks he’s with T’mari. Another thinks he’s with L’tani. And somebody’s explaining why he’s probably with both.”
Ella laughed.
“Those people need hobbies.”
“We’re their hobby,” Jake said.
“Speak for yourself. Nobody’s following me around Columbia with a camera.”
“That’s because you’d eat the camera.”
Jake looked down at his plate.
“I’m starting to think this is personal.”
Joren reached over to see what Jude was reading.
“Is there anything new, or is it the same speculation?”
“Oh, there’s new stuff. Pictures from this morning.”
He turned the tablet.
A photograph showed a purple muscle car emerging from a downtown garage. Matt was behind the wheel. T’mari sat beside him, looking considerably more interested in the car than in the photographer.
“What’s that?” Jake asked.
“Some kind of Superbird.”
“That’s a Plymouth,” another worker said from across the room. “Or it’s supposed to be one.”
“Supposed to be?”
“One of those expensive collector reproductions. They aren’t exact copies.”
Jake enlarged the photograph.
“It’s a convertible.”
“Then it definitely isn’t an exact copy.”
“Looks good, though.”
“Looks expensive,” Jude said.
“How expensive?”
“Don’t know. People in the comments are throwing around numbers that would buy half of Missouri.”
Ella leaned over to look.
“That’s one of his cars.”
“You recognize it?” Jude asked.
“Everybody’s been trying to figure out what he’s got in that collection. He’s been buying those things for decades.”
“Apparently he told somebody it’s worth fifty million fiat,” Jude said.
Jake whistled.
“Fifty million for a car?”
“And he owns more than one,” Ella answered.
“Somebody’s got a very expensive hobby.”
“He owns a logistics company, Moose. I think he can afford it.”
Jude continued scrolling.
“More pictures from breakfast. And lunch.”
He brought up one showing Matt and T’mari outside a restaurant with several smiling girls.
“Those girls look happy.”
“Wouldn’t you?” Jake asked. “You go out for lunch and wind up having your picture taken with the High Lord and his alien princess.”
Ella leaned closer.
“I know one of those girls.”
“Of course you do,” Joren said.
“Columbia isn’t that big.”
“Big enough that I don’t know everybody in it.”
“You’re not from there.”
“True.”
Jude found another photograph.
“Apparently the girls wanted pictures with T’mari. Matt wound up in them too.”
Jake laughed.
“That’s got to wound his pride.”
“I doubt it,” Ella said. “He seems pretty fond of her.”
“Fond?” Jude repeated.
“Look at the pictures.”
The photograph showed T’mari laughing at something Matt had said.
Nobody needed a detailed explanation.
10:02 PM
“Here’s something,” Jude said.
“What now?” Joren asked.
“People are arguing about whether they spent the night together.”
Ella snorted.
“Where do they think they were?”
“At his apartment.”
“Exactly.”
“You know where that is?”
“Everybody in Columbia knows about The Maddy. It’s not some secret hideout. He’s had that apartment for years.”
“Then what’s the argument?”
“Because people want to know whether she was sleeping in his bed, not which building they were in.”
Jake grinned.
“An important distinction.”
“Only to people who ought to be minding their own business.”
Jude looked at her.
“That’s surprisingly restrained coming from you.”
Ella gave him a look.
“I’ve been told to practice discretion.”
“By whom?”
“People whose advice I’d rather not ignore.”
Jake regarded her for a moment.
“Must’ve been one hell of a conversation.”
“You have no idea.”
Jude continued reading.
“The photographs don’t tell them what happened inside. Apparently that’s upsetting some people.”
“Then they’ll have to live with disappointment,” Joren said.
“Not likely,” Ella answered. “They’ll just invent something.”
A man across the lounge looked up.
“Wouldn’t surprise me if he married both.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me if he married neither,” Ella said.
Jake shook his head.
“That man can’t go to supper without somebody inventing a family for him.”
“He has a family,” Joren answered.
“You know what I mean.”
Jude continued reading.
“Somebody’s arguing that he’s too busy to have a relationship.”
Ella snorted.
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard tonight.”
Jake looked offended.
“I’ve been working hard.”
“You’re a close second.”
“He’s in Columbia for the Collective meetings,” Joren said.
“Doesn’t mean he can’t have supper with a woman,” Ella answered.
“Or two,” Jake added.
Jude laughed.
“Or two.”
“I’m curious how long people are going to keep guessing,” another worker said.
“Until there’s something else to talk about,” Joren answered.
“So tomorrow?”
“Probably.”
Ella shook her head.
“Matt’s got an enormous piece of Pennsylvania turned upside down, half Missouri building housing, and a million green people who just arrived. Yet somehow the most important question is who he’s taking to dinner.”
“People understand dinner,” Jake said.
Jude nodded toward the photographs.
“They understand kitchens too.”
“See?” Jake said. “That’s why Frank was right.”
Ella looked at him.
“About what?”
“Get the kitchen running. Everything else can wait.”
“For once, Moose, you’ve said something sensible.”
“I’m putting that in writing.”
“Don’t push it.”
10:19 PM
At the far end of the lounge, somebody had started a card game. A few others were discussing whether to bring a dartboard aboard or wait until the workshop buildings were finished.
“Leave it here,” one of the workers said. “We’ve already got somewhere to sit and play cards.”
“There’s not enough room for everybody.”
“Everybody doesn’t want to play.”
Jake glanced toward them.
“What are they playing?”
“Spades.”
“Any money involved?”
“Not yet.”
“Then what’s the point?”
“Some people enjoy games without betting,” Ella told him.
“I’ve heard that.”
“Never tried it?”
“Didn’t say that.”
Jude set his tablet aside.
“Anybody know when they’re starting tomorrow?”
Joren glanced at the assignments.
“Same early crews. The remaining shells need finishing. Then the electricians, plumbers, and interior teams can keep moving through them.”
“More Wonder Foam?”
“Of course.”
Jake sighed.
“Feels like everything’s Wonder Foam now.”
“That’s because we have a lot of ground that isn’t particularly interested in staying where we put it,” Joren said.
“I’m going to dream about the stuff.”
Ella stood up.
“I’ll dream about not having to run water and power to another kitchen.”
“You’ve got seven more Quonsets,” Jude reminded her.
“Workshops and offices. Different problems.”
“Better problems?”
“Ask me tomorrow.”
She carried her water bottle toward the sleeping compartments.
“Good night, gentlemen.”
“Good night, Ella.”
“And Moose?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t eat anything else.”
Jake waited until she was out of sight, then looked at Jude.
“Think there’s any pie left?”
Jude started laughing.
Joren closed his wildlife report.
“You really are hopeless.”
“There’s no shame in appreciating a good kitchen.”
“That was a shuttle supper before yesterday,” Jude said. “Tonight we had a real place to cook, tables outside, and enough food to feed an army.”
Jake nodded.
“And tomorrow we build some more.”
He finally set his plate aside.
Around them, the lounge gradually emptied. Conversations drifted toward the sleeping compartments, and the card players settled into a quieter game.
Beyond the shuttle windows, the new kitchen remained lit while the night crew finished cleaning and preparing for breakfast.
The other seven Quonsets stood unfinished beneath the Pennsylvania sky.
In front of them, the broad Wonder Foam apron had become the center of the little working compound, with parked vehicles, waiting drones, and tables that would be filled again in the morning.
Farther out, the survey crews were still finding holes, the pumping shuttles were still filling them, and the ground crews had another long day’s work ahead.
Nobody in the bunkhouse expected miracles overnight.
They’d already had a fairly good one that afternoon.
They’d gotten the kitchen working.
