Rules and Roles

Date: June 8, 2440 Time: 9:00 AM

“Good morning, Mall,” Angelina said, spotting the girl hovering in the mudroom doorway. “Please sit.” She gestured at a chair, then raised her hand. “Stop. Now turn around and look at the mess you just dragged into the kitchen.”

“I am sorry, I will—” Mall stammered, catching sight of the muddy footprints trailing behind her.

“No, you won’t. Sit down and watch.” Angelina tapped her tablet. A quiet hum signaled the little vacuum rolling out of its compartment to handle the mess. “Easy enough to clean up,” she said, watching it go. “But a pain in the ass when you’re dodging bots during prep, or worse—when you track mud into the rest of the house.”

She stepped around Mall and opened a drawer. “House Rule 21,” she said, pulling a laminated placard from the stack. “‘Shoes are not to be worn in the house beyond the confines of the kitchen or the business offices.’ Maria Theresa Coyoca Marmaduke. 1974.”

“I understand,” Mall said quickly. “I will do better.”

“I’m sure you will. I’ll get you a pair of house shoes later. For now, we’ve got work.” She moved to the counter. “Every day there’s a list a mile long, and we’ll be lucky to cross off half of it. First thing each morning: check the coffee. Make a fresh pot if it’s not already on. Humans are basically useless without caffeine.”

“I like coffee,” Mall offered, managing a small smile.

“Good. While it brews, orientation continues. This place isn’t just a house. It’s a working farm, an office, a medical post, and a community hub. That means people really do get hurt. Knowing where the trauma closets are isn’t optional.”

She stepped to a cabinet behind her. “There are twenty-nine of these in the main house, and more in every satellite building. You’ll learn all of them in the house so that you don’t ever have to think about where they are, should we need them. You will also eventually learn where all of them are on the Homestead proper as we restock supplies for them and the other first aid stations.”

“We’ll be running a CPR and first aid course soon. You’ll take it. Everyone does. It’s officially called ‘Basic Life Support,’ but we all call it ‘How Not to Let Your Boss Die Like a Dumbass.’ If you have a talent for this or are interested, we will also run you through the EMT and Paramedics courses.”

Mall nodded solemnly. “That is how Oxana became a citizen.”

“It is what she chose to pursue to show her worth. If citizenship is your goal, follow your own path, not hers. I will help you with this as I did with Oxana.”

Angelina paused. “You know the rules of V’ren apprenticeship?”

“Yes, M’resta,” Mall said, more reflex than thought—then blinked at her own use of the word.

Angelina gave a small nod. “Good. Then you’ll understand when I say: if you accept this formally, I will take you as my L’erin. You’ll move in with me. With my family. You will become my family. You’ll train by my side and follow the rules of the house.”

Mall stared at her, stunned. “Truly?”

“Truly,” Angelina confirmed. “You’ll still see your parents and siblings, but you’ll live with me. If you do this, we do it all the way. No half measures.”

“I accept,” Mall said, rising from her chair and bowing her head.

Angelina reached for the steaming carafe and poured two cups. “Good. Then, as your M’resta, I say your first duty is to sit your skinny green butt back down and help me drink this hazelnut latte. Matt hates the smell of flavored coffee, so we only drink it when he is not here. This is my fourth this morning.

Mall grinned. “Yes, M’resta.”