Sophie and the Soap Plant Milking Farm

“Boots, overalls and gloves.” Madam Ong slapped a pair of thick yellow rubber gloves on top of the pile of clothing. “Don’t touch the plants with your bare hands. Don’t touch your face while working. And whatever you do, don’t lick the plants. Now, head through that door and change please.” 

“Don’t lick the plants?” Sophie said with a confused frown. “Why would anyone—”

“Through that door, Miss Lee.” Madam Ong pointed.

Madam Ong seemed like a battle axe of a woman and not someone she wanted to get into an argument with on her first day at her new work assignment. Sophie nodded, gathered up her newly-issued uniform and made her way towards the door.

Through the door was a communal changing room. Tiled floor, a bench around the edge and hooks on the wall. A wall fan in the upper corner turned from side to side, shifting the warm air but not doing much to cool it. There were already other young women getting changed. Sophie made her way to a spare bench against the wall and put her things down. The girl next to her looked up.

“You new?” the girl said as she pulled up her overalls.

“First day. I’m Sophie.”

“Jess.” Jess pulled the straps over her shoulders.

Sophie noticed the name Jessine Ng Hui Wen embroidered on the breast of the overalls. She stared at it.

“The names so they can identify our bodies,” Jess said.

“What?” Bodies? Sophie’s eyes went wide.

“Just kidding lah. You’ll be fine.” Jess sat down on the bench and picked up a boot. “But better change quick. You late for Madam Ong, then really not fine already.”

As Jess pulled on her boots, Sophie quickly undressed. The shirt was thick brushed cotton, with long sleeves and a high collar. In this climate? Ugh. Her overalls felt heavy too, and had her full name Sophie Lee Jia Hui embroidered on them. It felt an odd choice to put her whole name on there. She finished dressing in time to make it out the door with the last of the girls.

Sophie followed the girls through the main room and out two large glass doors where they all gathered outside on a paved area. She was already warm, and they were still in the shade. Beyond the paved area, regimented rows of plants stretched out as far as she could see. The gathered staff were mostly young women her own age, late teens and early twenties. There were a handful of boys. Some looked too young to go to the front. The others she guessed must be PES E. Not combat fit, but useful for something.

“Good morning everybody.” Madam Ong strode out and took a place at the front of the group, next to a large stack of buckets. She’d changed also, and wore overalls embroidered Agnes Ong Siew Lan. Her gloves hung from her belt and she held a clipboard and pen.

“Good morning, Madam Ong,” the group chorused. Felt more like school than war work.

“Work assignments. Miss Jessine Ng, Miss Felicia Lim. Row thirty-four, section four.” Madam Ong went through the list, and as each pair was assigned a location they took a bucket each and left. Soon, only Sophie and one of the boys remained. He looked about her own age. Slim build, large round spectacles, and he didn’t quite meet her eyes when she looked at him.

“Mr Ang,” Madam Ong said to him, “this is Miss Sophie Lee. It’s her first day. You are to train her on the safety protocols and milking technique. You are not expected to meet your quota today.”

“Yes, Madam.” His voice was soft and unassuming.

“Any questions?”

“No, Madam.”

“Row fifty-four, section seven.”

“Yes, Madam.” He gave Sophie a little this way nod, took a bucket and headed off. Sophie grabbed a bucket too, noting there was a small bag in the bottom, and followed him.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Sophie,” she said as she caught up with him.

“Hi,” he replied.

Silence.

Sophie glanced at his overalls. Aloysius Ang Zhi Wei. “Aloysius. Or Aloy, is it?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said with a little shrug.

Some talker this one. Still, he seemed more shy than rude.

They walked in silence. She was already starting to sweat. All day out in this sun was going to be damn miserable, but better here than at the front. At least she got a proper bed each night and the chance to sleep soundly, knowing that no one was shooting at her.

Sophie looked at the plants as they walked. Rows and rows of long green leaves. Beneath the green canopy were strange red heads each on its own separate stalk, standing tall like a soldier at attention.

Flowers, she supposed, though flower wasn’t quite the word to describe them. They were shaped more like pine cones, with overlapping scales, and they were fat and bright red. She could smell the sweet gingery scent in the air and see drops of liquid already forming at their tips.

Very squeezable.

Just ripe for milking.

After they had walked some way down the row, Aloy stopped beside a sign marked 7.

“Always wear your gloves after stepping off the patio,” he said.

Good thing she’d put them on when she dressed.

“Don’t touch your face with your hands—”

“And don’t lick the plants?” she finished for him.

He nodded, looking serious. “Don’t ingest the sap, not even the slightest drop. Don’t get it in your eyes, nose, ears, or any other orifice.”

“Got it. Don’t shove it up my butt.” Sophie joked.

Aloy didn’t laugh.

Great, no sense of humour either. But at least he didn’t appear offended.

He placed his bucket on the ground, taking out the bag in the bottom and putting it to the side, and squatted down in front of a plant.

“You need to milk the bud thoroughly, without breaking it off. Once milked, the bud will refill in time, but if you break it off then the shoot won’t grow another bud, so there’s a penalty for doing that.”

“Like a fine?” Sophie asked.

“Not a fine. It counts against your quota, which affects your pay.”

“Sounds like a fine with extra steps,” Sophie joked.

He nodded seriously.

Really no sense of humour.

“They are quite stable, a good firm tug is fine. Just don’t yank too hard.”

Sophie pressed her lips together to prevent a smile breaking out on her face. He clearly had not meant to say that with any innuendo.

Aloy took hold of one of the red heads, a bud as he’d called it, and pulled. The stalk bent over and he stopped when the tip of the bud was pointing down, into his bucket. “Always best to milk in this position. It can squirt out suddenly, and you don’t want it squirting in your face.”

Sophie bit the inside of her cheek to avoid the giggle that threatened to erupt.

He let the bud go and it sprang back up. He held up his hand and showed Sophie the hand motions of milking, making a back and forth motion as he squeezed his fingers in rhythm. This was too much. Sophie burst out laughing.

He frowned. “This is serious. We need to milk the plants safely.”

“Sorry,” Sophie tried to smother her giggles. Trust her luck to get paired with such a stick-in-the-mud.

“And efficiently. The sap is used to make vital supplies for our men fighting at the front.”

“Don’t they make soap with it?”

“Yes. Soap.”

Well, hygiene was important. But really.

“Come, you try. Best practice with one hand, when you get better you will be able to milk two buds at once. ”

Sophie squatted down beside him. He showed her how to point the bud into the bucket and hold it with her hand, so her thumb and index finger were at the base.

“Now, squeeze from here first.” He indicated the top of her grip. “Then work your fingers down one by one while you slide your hand down. Slowly, but firm.”

Sophie squeezed. A small amount of sap leaked out the tip. She breathed in and smelt a sweet floral smell with an undertone of ginger. She put additional pressure with her middle finger and pulled down. A burst of sap shot out of the tip into the bucket at the same time as sap oozed out through the scales.

Sophie jumped, letting go of the bud which sprang back sending droplets flying. One struck her cheek. She raised her hand to wipe it off.

“Stop!” Aloy yelled.

She froze.

“Don’t touch your face!”

Damn, he was right. She nearly had.

The droplet ran slowly down her cheek, heading for her mouth.

“Tilt your head to the side,” he said.

She did, sending the droplet on a course away from her lips.

Aloy grabbed the small bag and undid a clip. It opened out flat. He took his gloves off, turning them inside out as he removed them and put them to the side. From the assortment of supplies inside he pulled out a small packet and tore it open. The packet contained new gloves, thin medical gloves, not thick like the ones they’d used for milking. He pulled them on.

He opened another packet and pulled out what looked like a wet wipe.

Sophie reached out for it but he shook his head.

“Your hands are contaminated. I do it.” He did, wiping her face carefully with a serious expression.

“So I get cancer now or what?” Sophie asked. The sap didn’t sting at all, but there had to be a reason for all these precautions.

“No. Short-term exposure on skin is no issue.”

“Right. Just don’t shove it up my butt. Why not? And… I guess they process whatever the issue is out of it before they make soap with it?”

“Why, do you insert soap into your backside?” He said it with such a deadpan face that it took Sophie a few seconds to realise he was actually joking.

“Point taken,” she said with a grin. Still, the wet wipe went in a biohazard bag before Aloy changed his gloves again.

Then they went back to work.

It took a few more attempts, but Sophie started to get the hang of milking. Even though she squirted the main stream into the bucket, sap still oozed out from the whole surface of the bud, coating her gloved hand.

“You’re doing well,” Aloy said. “Like a natural.”

“Like I’ve done this before?” Sophie said with a wink.

“But… it is your first day, no?” Aloy asked.

Ah.

Well. One joke wasn’t enough to give him a sense of humour.

They worked until it was time for lunch. Then they headed back, while Aloy explained they’d need to decontaminate and change before they ate.