The Dawning

The alarm goes off on the desk beside my bed. 6:30. I usually prefer to sleep in on Sepday, especially with it being the day before the festival cycle, but I forgot to shut my alarm off last night. Guess I’m up. Yay. After going through my normal morning routine, I catch myself looking out my bedroom window. The sun has just begun to peek over the horizon. Winter is finally sneaking up on us, after all. Should I bring a jacket with me today? Nah, I probably won’t need it.

I head into the main room of my house (well, unit actually), which somehow shows absolutely no trace of the get together yesterday. I know I didn’t clean, but clearly someone did. Maybe Tracey and her sisters. They always seem to take good care of things. If I remember, I’ll have to be sure to thank them. I find the fridge empty, as well as my fruit bowl and both my main food cupboards. I head to my “pantry” (my mother’s former bedroom) and find it completely empty as well. Bone dry. Looks like today will be a shopping day. Doesn’t really help for breakfast, though.

No sooner has the thought crossed my mind when there’s a knock at the door. It’s uncanny how in tune she can be with me sometimes. I open the door to find Anna, my neighbor’s foible daughter. “Mom wanted to know if you wanted to come over for breakfast,” she asks sweetly.

“I’d hate to be a bother,” I plat automatically.

“Please? She’s making egg toast.”

I have met exactly two people in my life who can properly make egg toast. Most people in Agape prefer pancakes, which are both simpler and cheaper to make, feeding more people. Now don’t get me wrong, I like pancakes as much as the next Agapite, but they don’t hold a candle to a good slice of egg toast. Fluffy without being light, filling without being bloating, sweet while maintaining savor. Perfection in breakfasting. A lot of Agapites have never bothered to learn how to make it, and the ones that have rarely get it right. See, the secret to a perfect slice of egg toast is cinnamon. Not a lot, mind you; just enough to tame the sweetness and enrich the flavor. If you can taste the cinnamon, you’ve gone too far. My mother was a whiz with egg toast, though she always saved it for special occasions (like my 500th cycle). After she died over 200 cycles ago, other people have tried to make it, with various levels of failure. (One person used exclusively cinnamon. There’s not enough syrup in Ethos.) It got to the point where I had rather lost my liking for egg toast when Carol came along.

Carol has never told me how old she is, but I’d guess she’s probably a hundred cycles older than my mother. She and Anna moved into the unit across the hall from me twenty-five cycles ago, after her husband died. Once she’d warmed up to me, someone told her about my affinity for egg toast, so she made it for me. I swear, it was better than my mother’s. Since then, she’s made it for me twice (well, three times now), and every time it’s been on mornings I’m out of food. It’s little wonder why she moved here. She’s a natural.

“Well, you talked me into it,” I croon, picking Anna up and kissing her cheek. She gives me a hug as I carry her two steps into her unit. “Besides, I’m out of food this morning.”

“We figured,” Anna comments as I put her down.

Carol’s behind her counter over a grill-looking thing (cooking’s not my strong point), and there’s already a stack of toast on a plate on the table, which has been set for three places. They’ll be my pieces no matter how I object, and my mouth is already watering.

“Morning, Carol,” I chime.

“Good morning, Solomon. Don’t bother with the token refusal, come eat while they’re warm,” Carol replies without looking up from the counter.

Yes, my name is Solomon, but only Carol and my mother have ever called me that regularly. Most people call me Sol or Solly (or Solo when someone thinks they’re being funny). My mother said the name comes from the ancient days, from a king who ruled an ancient country. He was exceedingly wise, but even he was seduced by temptations. She said it would always remind me of both the importance of wisdom and our susceptibility to folly. I can’t speak for everyone, but I’ve had my fair share of folly.

I grab the plate of still-hot toast and slide four pieces on my plate. After doctoring them to my liking (butter and syrup, but not too much), a fork next to me takes two of the slices and slides them on her plate.

“You know, one of these days I’ll want to actually eat my own food,” I complain, though as I’m already grabbing a replacement piece, even I don’t think I’m very convincing.

Anna’s not even fazed. “But you’re so much better at mixing than I am! My mixes are always too buttery or too syrupy,” she whines.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Anna,” I tease. “Well, I suppose I’ll let it slide. This time.” The allowance earns me a winning smile from Anna.

Carol comes over with a second plate of toast and joins us at the table. “So, Solomon,” she says as she starts to make her plate, “any big plans for the day?” she asks.

“You mean people actually make plans for their days?” I ask.

Anna snorts beside me. “Mom, remember who you’re talking to,” she says.

“I know, I know,” Carol says, the beginnings of a blush in her smile. “Still, with tomorrow being Agape’s Festival day and all, and Solomon’s choosing only eight days away, I figured even you might have a plan for today.”

“I tried to make one, I really did, but I couldn’t remember what they looked like,” I say, making Anna laugh and Carol roll her eyes. It’s nice when people get you. “Seriously, though, the only thing I know I’m doing today is grocery shopping. Oh, and paying my bills, of course.”

“How many of the festivals did you plan on going to?” Carol asks.

“All of them,” I say. Ethos has seven festivals during its festival cycle, one per city (Anathema doesn’t get one). The festivals happen every hundred cycles, and this round is going to be the 5000th Cycle festivals, so it promises to be even more extravagant than usual. Since Agape’s festival is the least spectacular by the average Ethosite’s standard, our festival is always Onday. (Though it’s worth going to for the food if nothing else. Agape’s festival always has the best food.) Capstone is the last one, and the Coterie would call it the most spectacular, but my favorite is Bonhomie’s festival. All seven have their perks, though.

“Naturally,” Carol says, inclining her head to Anna. “This one wants to go to Alacrity.”

“Going to be a soldier, Anna?” I ask. Ethos does have female soldiers, but they’re a rarity.

“Of course. When Dad died, I knew I would follow in his footsteps,” Anna says.

“Or she’ll marry a Largo like she mentioned last cycle, or become a doctor like the cycle before,” Carol says endearingly. “Anyway, it turns out I could only get Onday off from the fire department. You think you could take Anna to the Alacrity festival?”

“Of course,” I say with a smile. I hadn’t planned on having any company in Alacrity, but this works out nicely. Besides, though I have a lot of what I call “little buddies” here, Anna is definitely my favorite. “That is, if she’s interested.”

“Oh, if you insist,” Anna says, snatching my last bite of toast for effect. “Mom, can I go see if the Chary girls are up?”

“Sure, just take your dishes to the sink first,” Carol replies.

Anna takes both her plate and mine to the sink, then returns to give me a hug before she leaves. “I’ll save you a seat at dinner, Solly,” she coos.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Anna,” I say with a smile.

Anna makes a step or two toward the door before Carol says, “Hey, where’s my hug?”

Anna grins sheepishly and runs to hug her mother. “Sorry, Mom. I love you,” she plats.

“That’s better. I love you, too, dear. Now get going.” Once I hear the door shut behind me again, Carol shakes her head. “Oh, that kid. You know, she’s really taken to you. I hope she doesn’t bug you.”

“Exactly the opposite, Carol,” I say, smiling a little wider. “She’s a pretty cool kid.”

“Yes, she is,” Carol says. “Any idea what you’re going to be choosing?”

“Not even the first clue. It’s really starting to concern me a little,” I say.

“There’s only ten choices, you know. It can’t really be that hard,” Carol says, chuckling. “Have you eliminated anything?”

“Well, yes,” I say. “I’ve ruled out the Artisan Guild. I have no crafting or artistic skills. The Athletics Guild is also out, as I’m not an athlete. Since I’m nowhere near as brave as Anna, the Military Guild is out. I know nothing about growing food or raising animals, so the Agriculture Guild is a no. There are things I like and dislike about the other six, but I haven’t really narrowed it down yet.”

“Let’s see. That leaves Education, Technology, Civil Service, Medical, Transportation, and Hospitality. Right?” I nod. Carol takes on a serious face. “Well, Education would have you in Lyceum.”

“True. Probably it’s biggest downside,” I say. I could afford Lyceum, but of all the cities in Ethos, it’s the one I’d least like to live in. Way too busy on Academy days. “But I think I could like teaching. Especially teaching at a guild.”

“Hospitality would probably put you in Bonhomie, right?” Carol asks.

“There are a handful of restaurants elsewhere, but yes, most of them are in Bonhomie,” I say. Bonhomie is the largest city in Ethos by a decent margin. It’s Academy-Lyceum busy all the time, but at least that’s where all the entertainment is. “Probably a no-go. I don’t think I’m graceful enough to be anything resembling a housekeeper or a server.”

“Medical would keep you here in Agape, and you have the pedigree,” Carol says. “You’d easily make it into the doctor division down the line if you’d like.”

“True,” I say, “but that would be a nightmare. I’m too squeamish. Besides, I want to make my way on my own merits, not my parents’.”

“That’s honorable,” Carol says. “Technology and Transpor-tation have the advantage of being available anywhere in Ethos. Civil Service, too, depending on what you go for. I know the lawyers all end up in Largesse, but there’s always clerical or law enforcement.”

“Or politics,” I say, trying unsuccessfully not to laugh.

“I thought we were being serious here, Solomon. We both know you’d never willingly be a politician,” Carol says.

“We are. Besides, I still have eight days to decide. But I’ve been able to cross three more guilds off my list for sure,” I say, “so it’s been productive. Thanks for the talk, and thanks for breakfast. I forgot to save myself something last night.”

“We figured,” Carol says. “Gonna get some more of those little cheese wheels? Everyone loved those.”

“I’m not sure yet,” I say. “Too much of a good thing, and all.”

“Well, if you want to change it up, they also have them in the peppered kind. I know you don’t like that, but I know most of the girls do. Especially the littler Acey girls.”

“I’ll think about it, then,” I say. I surprise Carol by going over to give her a hug. “See you tonight.”

“Oh, get going, you big softie,” Carol says, but she’s smiling.

I check my pocket watch (the only thing I have left of my dad’s) as I’m heading in my unit. 7:42. I’m making pretty good time this morning. I grab my bike and two coin sacks (both can hold about fifty moil) and head outside. I hop on my bike and start the journey to City Hall.

Almost everyone in Agape gets around by bus. Cars are impractical (even if they weren’t astronomically unaffordable, all roads are dirt), and even bikes are a pipe dream for the average Agapite. My bike was technically used, even though the previous owner literally took it a whole twenty meters from the store before returning it, so it only cost me thirty-five moil. Most bikes are forty to sixty moil. Since the average Agapite is lucky to make five moil a cycle, bikes are a pipe dream, an excessive luxury. It was worth it to me, though. Thanks to how the bus and train schedules align, if I relied on the bus to go to the Academy, I’d either be forty-five minutes early or fifteen minutes late every day. Both are terribly inconvenient. Plus, it helps me keep in pretty decent shape, though I’m no athlete.

I make it to City Hall right as it’s opening. It’s great when plans work out. The first visit is to the bank teller. I rattle my ID number off (235919, not arbitrary. I’m the 235919th student to be registered at the Academy) and the man behind the window (a Largo, of course) slips my gold coin out the window. Doesn’t sound like much, but an aplomb’s worth a hundred of the silver moil. My father was the top cardiac surgeon at Ethos General Hospital here in Agape, making fifteen-plus aplomb each surgery, and sometimes doing as many as four surgeries in a cycle. To my knowledge, he never lost a patient. When he died (over 500 cycles ago), he left my mother and me fifteen paragon (a fortune in Agape, but in Capstone, where we lived, it was only above average). My mother moved us to Agape and successfully gave five paragon away over three hundred or so cycles. It’s who she was, though it ended up getting her killed. When she died, I took the remaining ten paragon and put it in a sealed deposit at a bank in Largesse. No one had ever put more than fifty aplomb in such a thing before, so there was a bidding war. Winston-Newsom Bank offered me an aplomb a cycle for five hundred cycles, plus an extra paragon at maturity. It was a pretty sweet deal, I must say.

The first bill is Ethos General Donation. There are five major bills everybody pays: Ethos General Donation (which is income tax, 15%), Ethos Residency Charge (also known as rent), electricity, water, and train passes. Even though they call it a donation, the EGD is mandatory. Since I make an aplomb, my donation is fifteen moil. I hand the gold over to the lady (an Agapite, of course) and get eighty-five silver coins back. I split them between the two bags, which leave both bulging, and tie them to my pants.

Second stop is electricity. I give the clerk (her blue uniform identifies her as a Lycer, but I’d know she was by her bun) my ID and she hands me my slip:

Ethos Fee ₾ 8.4

Agape Fee 1.7

Maintenance Fee 6.2

Administrative Fee 4.5

Base Fee 12.3

Usage (.12/unit) x474 56.9

Subtotal 89.9

Electricity Tax 6.5% 3.7

Grand Total ₾ 93.6

“I thought the electricity tax was only 5.9%?” I ask.

“Went up,” the clerk replied. So helpful. I hand over a moil and get some nickels and brass in change.

Third stop is Agape Residence Charge. My contribution is two moil even. One of the perks of living at T-Block is the cheap rent. See, T-Block is specifically for widows and orphans, so the owner, Ed, gets a stipend for housing us. You can only live there as a male if you live with your mother, since for whatever reason orphaned males don’t qualify for a stipend. Ed made an exception for me since I had already been living there three hundred cycles when my mother died, which I very much appreciated. It’s a good place. The units are two bedroom, and though a little on the small side (only fifty-six square meters), they’re pretty nice units. The only real complaint is the washer and dryer are both out of order (have been since I moved here), so we have to do all our laundry by hand. I understand, though: washers and dryers are incredibly expensive. Two moil is pretty close to the cheapest rent in Agape. For example, Z-Block units, which are far newer and nicer, are ₾3,45.0 per cycle, despite the fact that they are only one bedroom. C-block units, despite being quite a bit older, are four-bedroom units, so they’re ₾4,25.0 a cycle. Only H-Block is cheaper to live in, and H-Block is the homeless shelter.

Two stops left. Next is water, the other utility. The clerk, this time an Alacretian man (only because no one from Anathema can work in a city hall outside Anathema), hands me my bill:

Ethos Fee ₾ 7.3

Agape Fee 1.6

Maintenance Fee 4.5

Administrative Fee 3.4

Base Fee 10.6

Usage (.028/L) X1792 50.2

Subtotal 77.5

Water Tax 5.8% 2.9

Grand Total ₾ 80.4

Looks like the water tax went up, too. It was 5.2%. Wonderful. I pay this one, too, handing over four iota so I can get two coppers back. Coppers make good handouts.

If it was only me, it probably wouldn’t bug me so much, all this nickel and brassing, but I’m thinking about everyone down in T-block. T-14, for example, has nine sisters (who we call the Acey sisters) sharing an identical unit to mine. The two eldest sisters, Tracey and Kasey, are the only two that work. They both make pretty good wages for Agape (about fifteen moil between the two of them), but still, it’s a struggle for them to make ends meet (for example, both their electric and water bills push two moil). They really can’t afford the creeping taxes, and since they live in T-Block, they’re doing better than probably ninety percent of Agape.

The final bill is one that thankfully never changes: the train pass. Technically, it’s optional, but it really isn’t. Even if one could afford a car (which only the richest of Captains can afford), it would take over five hours to drive to Lyceum every day for the Academy. The train makes the same trip in exactly seventy-one minutes. We take the train. My pass is an alm for the final time, as next Sepday I’ll have to pay the apprentice rate (fifteen indigen), though I won’t technically be an apprentice until the following afternoon. Civilians pay two alms, citizens twenty-five indigen, and pre-Academy children are four indigen. Tracey, for example, has to pay over a moil just for the train passes. Life is expensive in Ethos.

My bills paid, I check my watch as I’m leaving City Hall. 8:57. I’m making pretty good time here. I hop on my bike and head for the laughably named Agape Shopping District, which consists of a pharmacy, a medical supply shop, and of course, the grocery store. Each city in Ethos has a grocer; any other kind of shopping is city specific. (For example, if you want any sort of special, tailor-made clothing, you go to Bonhomie. If you want the basic, utility clothing most people wear, you go to Alacrity.) Agape’s main industry is medicine, so we got the pharmacy and med supplies. We also grow most of the fruits and vegetables here (which go everywhere, of course) as well as a fair number of flowers (which are sold in Alacrity). The wisdom of putting Ethos’s lone hospital in its eastern-most city is lost on me, but that’s what the first Coterie decided, so that’s where it stands. Ethos General Hospital, serving Ethosites since 97.

On the way, I spot a beggar sitting by the main road. Though begging is legal all over Ethos, they tend to populate here, since they usually have the most success here. They certainly had a lot of success with my mother. I throw an alm to him as I ride by. That’ll buy him lunch today, at least.

Agape’s grocery store is incredibly unique. It’s the cheapest store per unit in Ethos, despite the fact that two cities are generally poorer than Agape. For example, milk is only two indigen per liter bottle (whereas even in Anathema you’d pay four indigen). The catch is you have to buy in bulk, so if you want milk, you actually have to pay two alms, because you have to buy it in ten-liter pallets. Another example is ground beef. Agape only charges ₾12.5 per keg (Alacrity charges three alms), but the rolls are twenty kegs, so you have to pay ₾2,50.0. This has led to a bit of a unique culture in Agape of sharing meals with your neighbors. Every night meal is a block-wide event, with each unit contributing what they can afford to the meals. At least, that’s how it’s typically done. T-block, being only forty-nine people, does it a little different. Since we have fourteen units, we pair up and each pair cooks a different night. My night is Sixday with the Acey sisters. Since they struggle to make ends meet (and, most importantly, because I can’t even cook an egg), we agreed that if they did all the cooking, I’d buy all the ingredients. It’s always the most popular night; we probably get two dozen people coming for leftovers that night. Why? In a word, Macey. All the sisters can cook (except little Zasey, who’s still a sapling), but Macey is the star. She’s only a probate, but she’s already easily the best baker in Agape, and probably in Ethos. It doesn’t matter the item; cake, pie, bread, brownies, cookies, hers are the best (with a couple rare exceptions). A couple of the older ladies tease her about having to chase the men away with a stick, which always makes her blush, but they probably have a point. I bet even a Largo or Captain would take the “poor Agape girl” once they tasted her cooking. But she only has eyes for the boy down in T-7, Cody. The lucky idiot.

Once inside the store, I’m immediately greeted by a Scanner girl, who greets me with utmost friendliness. Agape’s store is also unique in one other aspect: it delivers. If you have your order in by fourteen, you’ll get it that night; otherwise, the following night. When you want to buy something then, instead of picking it up there, you have someone follow you around the store. They use a device to scan a code for you (hence the nickname), and at the end it runs up your total and prints your receipt. It’s an excellent first job, so they’re typically Academy students except during Academy hours, and today is no different. She’s probably still a probate because I don’t know her.

Like any good business, Agape puts their best product first: the meat. I glance around and am rewarded with a bright green flyer above the chicken:

SPECIAL!

Boneless Chicken Breast

Sliced (200g slices)

₾10.0/kg (5kg trays)

4999-7 Only!

Only an alm per keg! It’s usually three! I admittedly go a little overboard and order twenty trays, which gets me a funny look from the Scanner.

“I like chicken,” I say, shrugging.

“Apparently so,” she says, chuckling. “Let me know when your block’s cooking it, so I can come over. I love chicken.”

“Add two more trays, please,” I tell her. “Yeah, everything always seems to get better when you add chicken.” I also buy three rolls of ground beef, four-six keg pot roasts, and ten slats of bacon strips. Sounds like a lot, I know, but give it two cycles and it’ll be gone.

The next section is the fruit section. Gram for gram, fruit is the most expensive food in Ethos. Even I don’t buy a ton of it. There’s usually a special in this section, but not today, of course, since the festival’s tomorrow. The deals will come Donday (Ardor’s festival day). Still, I buy five bags of oranges, five bags of lemons, and five bags of green apples. The citrus fruits will become drinks, the apples will be pies. Macey might be the only person in Agape who knows how to make apple pie, and it’s my favorite of her creations. The only ingredient I know they contain is apples, so I supply them. The sisters buy the rest of the ingredients. At least, I suppose they do. I try not to pay too much attention to what is involved in cooking. I just buy what I’m told to buy and eat.

After fruits comes vegetables, naturally, which are actually decently affordable, in the sense that most people in Agape get to eat some sort of vegetable every day. Tracey said she wanted to make vegetable soup this Sixday (which will almost certainly have chicken in it now), so I get two bags of carrots, two bags of celery, two bags of off-the-cob corn, two bags of peas, one large bag of green beans, and ten bags of potatoes. Potatoes are used in almost every meal.

Two sections to go. After veggies comes dairy. The first place I go is over to where they sell those cheese wheels. Turns out they come in ten varieties.

“Apparently, one of these is peppered?” I ask the Scanner.

“Yes, this one. They call it pepper jack, since it’s jack cheese with peppers,” the Scanner replies, pointing.

“Is it good?” I ask.

“Oh, they’re the best,” she says, smiling.

“I’ll try one, then,” I say, and she scans it.

We head over to the blocks (four kegs each), and I get six blocks of gouda cheese and six blocks of white cheddar cheese. Since they store the eggs and the milk together (which makes zero sense to me), I get a gross of eggs to go with my three pallets of milk.

Those four sections constitute the first half of the store. The last section is the other half. This is where you find all the dry ingredients: sugar, salt, spices, flour, beans, rice, etc. Since my pantry is currently empty (and I even have an overflow pantry in the main room, if needed), this stuff I can stock up on.

First comes ten sacks of Grade A Flour. Flour is sold in four grades. Grade A is pure white, top of the line, best for any occasion, but an absolute must for cakes and breads. B flour is an off-white color, inferior but still pretty good. You can use it in things like pasta and pancakes and not notice much of a difference. Grade C is what your average Agapite uses. It’s a light tan color, and is a little coarse, but still edible. Grade D is mostly barley flour, though a few other things are thrown in, and it’s a dark brown color. We affectionally call it “barely flour”. Only the shelter buys it regularly, so far as I know. It’s sufficiently awful. A ten-keg sack of D flour is only two indigen, whereas A flour costs three alms per sack. I also get a sack of white rice and a sack of brown rice. I don’t like rice all that much, but people come by looking for it occasionally, so I like to have it on hand.

On the way to the sugar I notice another flyer advertising baking chocolate at three indigen per keg, down from the usual seven. “You guys ever use baking chocolate for anything?” I ask the Scanner.

“Occasionally,” she says. “It’s usually too expensive for us. I love chocolate, though.”

“Does it keep?” I ask.

“Oh, sure. It’d keep twenty-five cycles, easy,” she says.

“I’ll take forty-one bricks,” I say. She looks at me like I’m from another planet. “There are a lot of cakes baked on my block. Now they can be chocolate cakes for a long time.” The Scanner just laughs and scans the label. I finish the section off with ten sacks of sugar and five sacks of salt.

On the way to the register, I remember butter and go back to get ten two-keg sticks. Heading back, I splurge on a one-keg bag of cashews, too. Nuts are almost as expensive as fruit, and I’ve already splurged enough on the chicken, but I really can’t help myself sometimes.

Finally, I reach the register, which is surrounded as always by iota candies; called so both because they cost a single iota per piece and because the chews are the exact size of the little brass triangles, and the hard candy spheres fit flush inside them. A lot of Scanners will let the little ones have a free piece, though. Since they’re also sold in 200-count bags, I have a couple candy dishes (currently empty) I put them in for when the neighbor kids come over. I buy a bag each of the watermelon and grape softies, and a bag each of the cinnamon, lemon, and blueberry hardies, which I’m pretty sure covers all the bases.

I brace myself as the Scanner prints off my invoice and hands it over:

Chicken Breast 5kg Tray 50.0x22 ₾ 11,00.0

Ground Beef 20kg Roll 250.0x3 7,50.0

Pot Roast 6kg Unit 70.0x4 2,80.0

Bacon 5kg Tray 55.0x10 5,50.0

Oranges 20ct Bag 40.0x5 2,00.0

Lemons 20ct Bag 35.0x5 1,75.0

G Apples 20ct Bag 45.0x5 2,25.0

Carrots 5kg Bag 5.75x2 11.5

Celery 5kg Bag 4.5x2 9.0

S Corn 5kg Bag 5.5x2 11.0

Peas 5kg Bag 5.0x2 10.0

Green Beans 10kg Bag 10.5x1 10.5

B Potatoes 10kg Bag 6.5x10 65.0

PJ Wheels 200ct Bag 30.0x1 30.0

Gouda 4kg Block 22.5x6 1,35.0

W Cheddar 4kg Block 21.5x6 1,29.0

Milk 10L Pallet 20.0x3 60.0

Eggs Gross 3.6x1 3.6

A Flour 10kg Sack 30.0x10 3,00.0

W Rice 10kg Sack 17.0x1 17.0

B Rice 10kg Sack 15.0x1 15.0

100% Chocolate 5kg Block 15.0x40 6,00.0

Sugar 10kg Sack 16.5x10 1,65.0

Salt 10kg Sack 11.0x5 55.0

Butter 2kg Stick 18.0x10 1,80.0

Cashews 1kg Bag 50.0x1 50.0

Iota Candy 200ct Bag 10.0x5 50.0

Subtotal 51,86.6

Sales Tax 15% 7,78.0

Grand Total ₾ 59,64.6

“Fifty-nine, sixty-four and six” the girl says helpfully. Not a personal record, but close. I count out sixty silvers and get my change. “Where do we deliver?”

“All of it to T-Block, unit T-4, except two trays of chicken and a block of chocolate. Send that to wherever you live,” I say.

The Scanner turns a very light pink color. “Oh, I couldn’t. That’s too much,” she says, shaking her head.

“I insist,” I shoot back. “You and your family enjoy.”

“Why?” she asks. “We’ve never even met.”

“Point taken,” I say, extending my thumb in the typical Ethos fashion. “My name’s Solomon, but my friends call me Sol.”

The Scanner smiles and touches my thumb with hers. “I’m Callie,” she says.

“Well, now we’ve met,” I say. “It was good to meet you, Callie. Now you can accept the gift.”

“Oh, alright,” she says, then goes to enter the delivery. “Where did you want yours delivered to again?”

“T-Block, unit T-4. Solomon, ID 235919,” I say.

Callie gasps. “Oh, Solomon from T-Block! OK, now it all makes sense. I hope you have an awesome festival cycle, Sol.” She smiles again, this time more genuinely. “It really was good to meet you.”

That was certainly odd. “You too, Callie,” I say.

I check my watch as I exit the store. 9:41. I’m truly making excellent time today. I bike down to the train station and am on board the 1000 BOAG with four minutes to spare. Agape has four trains: Bonhomie (BOAG), Lyceum (LYAG), Capstone (CPAG), and Alacrity (ALAG). BOAG trains run every thirty minutes, ALAG trains every twenty-five minutes, LYAG trains every twenty minutes, and CPAG trains every fifteen minutes from seven until nineteen (the ALAG has a 1905). Overnight they run every hour on the hour. It sounds very confusing, but after 899 cycles it’s routine. The trains have never once changed their departure times, and in 4999 cycles not one train has ever been early or late. They can hold up to five thousand passengers, but except to and from the Academy on Academy days, they’re rarely at even half capacity. This particular train has about sixty people on it. I grab a set of complementary headphones and spend the whole forty-two-minute ride watching a movie (which just so happens to be forty-ish minutes long). Each train has its own movies, as each train has its own time span (except the ALAN train, where your entertainment is fifteen minutes of silence). In my opinion, the ARLA has the best movies (probably because it’s the longest train), but I rarely ride that train.

It’s 10:46 when I leave the station. For people who have extra moil to spend, Bonhomie is the place to go. There are three casinos, four theaters, four large sports complexes (for various kinds of sports), numerous art houses, and seemingly endless stores, offering everything from cosmetics to shoes to jewelry. Everything that the average Agapite can barely afford to look at, much less purchase. However, I have a special mission today: gift shopping. After all, it’s not every day Ethos turns five thousand. Good an excuse as any. Plus, most stores in Bonhomie gift wrap, though it costs a little extra.

The first store I visit is Hair Raisers. Anna’s been wanting a curling iron for a good long time. Of course, I know less than nothing about curling irons, and of course, there are fifteen different options. I look around for some help (which is a loose word in Bonhomie) and find an employee, flagging her over to me.

“How can I help, cir?” the lady asks.

I check her name tag. “Well, Cindra, I have a foible friend who’s wanting a curling iron. Which one would you recommend?” I ask.

The irons range anywhere from six to fifteen alms, so I expect her to recommend one of the most expensive models, as they’re trained to do, but Cindra surprises me by pointing to one of the least expensive ones. “That’s the one I would buy my own daughter if Isthmus hadn’t blessed me with a houseful of boys,” she says.

“Wonderful,” I say, grabbing one of the purchase slips. “What about for a girl I like and her twin sister? Any suggestions?”

“How old are they?” Cindra asks.

“A few cycles short of sapiens,” I say.

“For the girl you’re sweet on, go someplace else, get her something really nice,” Cindra tells me. “For the other, what’s her hair color?”

“They’re both fireheads,” I say.

Cindra, who’s also a firehead, smiles. “I know just the thing.” She leads me to the hair conditioners and points to a small, fairly expensive bottle. “This is a color enhancer. It doesn’t change her color, just makes her natural color more vivid. How long’s her hair?”

“A tad shorter than yours,” I say.

“Then she should get about twelve or so uses out of it. Probably best saved for special occasions,” she says.

This lady is a revelation. Bonhomians are almost never this helpful. “You’ve been delightful, thank you. Can you check me out?”

“No, sorry sweetie, you’re not my type,” Cindra says.

I start, as Cindra, though not unattractive, is probably 2500 cycles old. She bursts out laughing. “I’m just messing with you, sweetie. Yeah, register’s over there. Want them gift wrapped?”

“Sure do,” I say, smiling myself.

She rings me up and leaves to get the items while I’m looking the invoice over:

Curling Iron ₾ 69.9

+Gift Wrap 2.5

Hair Conditioner 94.9

+Gift Wrap 2.5

Subtotal 1,69.8

Sales Tax 15% 25.5

Grand Total ₾ 1,95.3

She returns shortly with two beautifully wrapped boxes. “What names should I put for To and From?”

“Anna gets the curling iron, and Josy with a y on the other. Both from Solomon,” I say.

She writes the names down, then puts the two boxes in a sack. I hand over two moil and get my change back. “Come again, Solomon,” she chimes.

“My friends call me Sol,” I offer.

“You have a wonderful rest of your Sepday, then, Sol,” Cindra says with genuine warmth.

“You too, Cindra,” I return with as much as I can muster.

I put the bag in a specially designed carrier on my bike (yes, I brought my bike with me) and look for somewhere to get something for Posy. I rack my brain. There’s always jewelry, but jewels are rather posh for Agape. Plus, the actual jewelry store is in Capstone, and I’m not going there today. She loves flowers, but she can get those anytime she wants. Hoping for inspiration, I head to Slate House, which is an art shop specializing in sculptures (though there are other kinds of art there, too). Nothing catches my eye, though. As I’m riding through the shops, a scarf catches my eye. I head into the store (Slick Cilks) to take a closer look. It’s silver with lake-blue diamonds (the shape, not the stone) down the center. It’s going to be winter soon, and Posy loves blue. Clothing in Bonhomie is tailor-made, so you’re all but assured that any piece you buy is unique, which makes their clothing incredibly expensive. However, the sticker price on clothing is usually tax-included, which is nice. Plus, I know Slick Cilks offers free gift wrapping on any purchase over ten moil. Posy’s new scarf is twelve moil, so it qualifies. I’m sure it’ll look great on her.

It’s 11:58 when I leave Slick Cilks, which means time to eat. One thing Agape sells absolutely none of is seafood. No fish, no shrimp, nothing. So, whenever I’m in Bonhomie (which is maybe once every ten cycles), I make sure to bring enough moil to get a nice lunch. My particular favorite is a place called Kamar’s. I know the owner from my Capstone days (I’m good friends with his son, who graduated two cycles ago), so even though it’s typically jam-packed, I always get a table.

I head inside and Kamar himself is hosting. I call out to him and he waves me over with a smile.

“Hey, Sol. What brings you to Bonhomie?” he says when I make it over to him.

“Oh, not too much. Doing a little gift shopping for the festival cycle,” I say.

“Know what you’re gonna be choosing? I know Peter wants you to join him at the Civil Service Guild. You’d make a wonderful Attainee for Agape,” Kamar points out.

“Yeah, but I can’t really see myself getting into politics,” I reply. “I bet Pete will be Potentate someday, though.”

Kamar chuckles. “He’ll be lucky if he can manage to be a Yeoman.”

Ethos is a republic, modeled after the ancient republics. Like them, we have three branches of government. The executive branch is called Haut Monde and has one representative from every city. The leader is called Potentate, and they’re always from Capstone. He (or she, though we’ve yet to have a female Potentate) is the only member to be elected; the rest are chosen by the Potentate. Agape’s contributor is called the Succor, and they’re head of medicine. The head of the military is called the Eclaw, and they’re from Alacrity. Largesse provides the head of the treasury, called the Munich. Anathema’s the head of law enforcement, the Seraph. The head of agriculture, the Marzipan, is from Ardor. Lyceum’s contributor is the head of education, the Elan. Finally, Bonhomie provides the head of commerce, the De Rigeur.

Our legislative branch, called the Coterie, is actually tri-partisan. The lowest of the houses is called the House of Yeomen, which currently has a hundred and fifty-one members distributed based on population size (Agape has nine members). The next house up is the House of Rectitude, which always has exactly one hundred members distributed by city wealth (Agape has two). Finally, the most prestigious house is the House of Attainment, which has two representatives from each city. Most Haut Monde members come from the House of Attainment.

Our judicial system is also three headed. There’s the Tumid Court, which handles civil disputes; the Illicit Court, which handles criminal cases; and the supreme court, the Vox Populi. The two lower courts work every day, no exceptions. They each have fourteen judges, two for each day of the cycle (a morning and afternoon judge). The Vox Populi has five members, each spending a different day each cycle reviewing cases. Any oral arguments are heard by the whole court on Sixdays, and they always have Sepdays off.

Unless fired by the Seraph (which can be overturned by a 65/35 vote in the House of Rectitude), or promoted, judges are lifetime appointees. Potentates are elected every two hundred cycles, with a six hundred cycle maximum term, elections done by electorates based on numbers of Coteries (Agape has thirteen electorates.). Yeomen have one hundred cycle terms, rectors two hundred, and attainees three hundred, with six hundred cycle maximum terms for all of them.

Just thinking about it hurts my head, and those are just the basics!

“I haven’t ruled out Civil Service, though,” I say. “The 100-cycle citizenship is appealing.”

“Very true,” Kamar says, then waves over a waitress to lead me to my table. The girl (who hasn’t graduated from the Academy) takes me over to a small table and hands me a menu.

“No thanks,” I say, handing the menu back. “Rainbow trout, grilled, with snow peas and blueberry yogurt.”

“Anything to drink?” she asks in a bored voice.

“Carrot juice,” I tell her.

“Be up in a jiffy.” She takes my order to the kitchen and returns a few minutes later with my order and the bill. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do,” I say absently, looking at the bill:

Rainbow Trout w/ Snow Peas ₾ 42.9

Blueberry Yogurt 11.9

Carrot Juice 5.9

Subtotal 60.7

Restaurant Tax 1.8% 1.1

Sales Tax 15% 9.1

Gratuity 26% 15.8

Grand Total ₾ 86.7

I admit, it irks me a little bit how the waitress, who never returns to my table, gets such a high automatic tip, until I remember the auto-tip gets divided amongst all employees, even the busboys and janitors. Any additional tip is all for the server. Still, I put a moil on the table and leave. A moil is a lot for a single meal (the shelter in Agape only charges a tenth of that), but the food is always exceptional at Kamar’s, despite the occasional poor service. Most restaurants in Bonhomie have more than occasional poor service.

After lunch, I head to the station in time to catch the 1300 LYBO train. Carol loves poetry, and Tracey needs a new wall clock. The LYBO train is a whole thirty-one minutes, which means Bonhomians probably get an extra half hour of sleep on Academy days. Must be nice. Once in Lyceum, I head straight for the bookstore to find a poem book for Carol. I find one just published by someone named Cadmium and bring it to the cashier. Since this is considered an educational item, it’s exempted from sales tax, so the nine-alm sticker means you pay nine alms. No gift wrapping in Lyceum, though, so I settle for a simple bag.

On the way out, I notice a crowd of people over around a table near the entrance. I head over to find a woman (who probably just became a citizen) signing copies of a book. Turns out the woman is Cadmium, and she’s signing copies of the book I just bought. I get in line to wait my turn. When my turn comes, I realize it’s an alm to have it signed, two to personalize it. I pull out a moil and hand it over.

“Keep the whole thing,” I tell her. “Make it something really special. It’s for Carol.”

“Who’s Carol?” Cadmium asks.

“My aunt,” I say. She’s not really my aunt, of course, but it’s simpler than trying to explain a more involved feeling.

“A good aunt?” she prods.

“The best,” I affirm.

Cadmium chews on the end of her pen a moment, then writes:

To Carol

A soul to love, a soul to please,

A soul to worship and adore.

A charm to simple words as these,

Yet lives as infinitely more.

Cadmium

“Best moil I spent all day,” I tell her. Cadmium smiles shyly.

My last stop for the day (which turned out to be a lot busier than I expected) is the electronics store. I find Tracey a digital wall clock that also shows the date. It promises a battery “that will last for 1000 cycles”, so hopefully it will last at least a couple hundred. It’s marked ₾ 43.8, which means it’s exactly five alms after taxes. The box fits almost perfectly flush in the last open space in my bike compartment. It’s wonderful when plans work out.

It’s 14:11 when I reach the Lyceum station. I board the 1420 LYAG and find a seat. Five minutes into the trip, a lady comes by with a cart full of snacks. I buy a bag of chocolate-covered raisins and a bag of yogurt-covered raspberries. The berries are for me, the raisins are for Jezebel. The little neophyte would rage if she knew I passed them up.

I like watching the scenery on the LYAG train (especially the last fifteen minutes or so), so I opt for some music instead of a movie. The last ninety kilometers of the LYAG route goes through all the fruit groves. Technically, the people who live and work there are part of Agape, but they almost never come to town. Fruit picking is tiresome work, but the groves are beautiful. The workers are usually Academy dropouts, though Ethos sometimes offers the work in lieu of being confined to Anathema.

When you’re born, you’re considered a lagniappe for your first ninety-nine cycles. Once you reach a hundred cycles, you become a nascent, and at two hundred, you’re a sapling. Life begins in earnest, however, when you turn three hundred. That’s when you get your ID number and begin life at the Academy. A new Academy student is a tenderfoot. At four hundred, you become a neophyte, then a foible at five hundred, a malleate at six hundred, a probate at seven hundred, and a sapien at eight hundred. At nine hundred, you graduate the Academy and you have the opportunity to choose a guild. If you join a guild, you become an apprentice until you graduate (guilds vary depending on what line of work you choose, but the average apprenticeship is 200 cycles), then you become a citizen and remain a citizen until your death.

However, starting cycle seven fifty, you may choose to leave the Academy or your guild at any time, for any reason or no reason. Withdrawal is permanent and irreversible except in extreme circumstances (I only know of two cases of withdrawal being overturned). If you make that choice, you become a civilian and remain one until death. Cody’s mother, Beatrice, over in T-7 is a civilian. She left the Academy at 812 to get married. Her husband had just graduated the Military Guild and was a soldier. Cody was born 117 cycles later. Then, in 4612, Beatrice’s husband (can’t recall his name) was killed in a training exercise at the base in Alacrity. It was actually a bit of a scandal, too, as they had never had a live grenade on the training ground before. It ended up costing three people their jobs, but it was written off as accidental. Probably was. Anywho, a cycle later, she was a T-Block resident. Beatrice is fortunate, as her husband had reached the five hundred-cycle mark and qualified for a death benefit, so between that and her job as a hospital janitor, she and Cody get by.

Civilians and citizens are eligible for any entry-level job in any industry, but a promotion requires graduation from the guild in the corresponding field. Even without promotion, citizens do better than civilians. For instance, a civilian firefighter makes four moil a cycle (which is actually really good for a civilian). A citizen firefighter makes six and a half. Also, if a job is an all-day job (like firefighting), civilians are typically the ones who do the graveyard shifts.

If you’re at the Academy, you can still work, of course. There are a decent amount of jobs available to probates (and even a handful for older malleates), especially on S-days. (Sapiens can work any part-time entry-level job.) Josy and Posy, twin probate girls who live down in T-13, both work part time at the pharmacy (about twenty hours a cycle) and make not quite five moil per cycle combined. It’s not much, but it keeps them in their own place and out of the homeless shelter.

Once I’m back in Agape, I retrieve my bike and start homeward. Before I make it far, I remember I’m out of soap and head to the pharmacy. Everyday non-food-related items like soap and toothpaste are sold in grocery stores everywhere in Ethos except Agape, which sells them at the pharmacy. I like it because it gives me a reason to go to the pharmacy.

When I get to the soaps, I get a moment of inspiration. I count the coins I have left. A little over four moil, all told. Plenty. I grab a basket and fill it with various bars of soap, one bar for each person on the block. When I get to the register, the cashier is Posy.

“Hey, Sol,” she beams as I approach. She raises an eyebrow at the basket in my hand. “Buying out the pharmacy?”

“Just a gift for the block. You like lavender, right?” I counter.

Posy smiles shyly. “Yeah, but that’s not necessary, Sol. The cheap stuff works good enough,” she plats.

“Nonsense,” I insist. “Besides, I like it when you smell like lavender. It’s practically your essence.”

That brings a blush, as I hoped it would. “You’re too sweet, Sol,” she croons.

Just you wait, I think to myself, and smile back.

Most Agapites use the “cheap stuff” because it’s only six iota a bar. The bars I’m buying are anywhere from three indigen (for Kelly’s boys) to twelve (for the elder Aceys and the twins). So instead of the three alms normal soap would cost, I pay ₾3,64.0. Unlike the grocers, the pharmacy doesn’t deliver. Fortunately, all forty-nine bars can fit in a single bag (they’re each about the size of a plum).

“I got the rose one for your sister. Mum’s the word,” I tell Posy.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” she assures me. “Heading home?”

“Yeah. When do you get to clock out?” I ask.

“Eighteen,” Posy says. “I’ll be home before dinner.”

“See you at dinner, then,” I say, giving her a little nod.

“Bye Sol,” Posy says sweetly,

By the time I pull into home, it’s 16:45. Joseph and Daniel are playing near the front entrance. Joseph lives in T-8 with his mother Jasmine, sister Xena, and brother Kevin (both tenderfoots, but over seventy cycles apart). Daniel’s a resident of T-3 with his mother Sandra, older brother Jonah (probate) and little sister Jezebel, lover of chocolate-covered raisins. Joseph’s been a malleate for a handful of cycles now, and Daniel’s just a few cycles from being one. I pull out two of my last three alms and call to them, “An alm each if you wash my bike for me.”

The pair light up and take my bike over to the hose. “Hold up,” I yell before the water starts. I unhook the leather compartment (which becomes a satchel when removed) with the day’s purchases in it. “Almost forgot,” I chuckle. “Bring it inside when you’re finished.”

“You got it, Solly,” Joseph declares. Daniel nods in agreement.

I head inside, putting the rest of the coins in the shelter’s donation bin in the lobby, leaving me with nothing remaining of the aplomb I started the day with. I definitely went a little overboard today, but I was feeling festive. Besides, I’ve been saving for the festivals for some time, and currently have three aplomb in gold and about three more in silver in the safe next to my bed. You’d think it dangerous to leave it all in such an obvious place, but so far as I know, there’s not been a bona fide theft in Agape in over fifteen hundred cycles. The pickpockets tend to frequent Largesse, and the house robbers stick to Bonhomie and Lyceum. I don’t even lock my door.

No one’s in the hallway, so I slip in my unit to get my gifts situated. I put the bags down and go check my safe out of habit, even though I have no silver left to deposit. I expect it to be mostly emptied by my choosing day. Festival cycles are the only holidays we get, which means the Academy is closed and most people either have the cycle off or only have to work their city’s festival days. Agape’s mayor said last cycle he predicted an attendance of 20,000 to Agape’s festival, which is over twice Agape’s population. It’d be a record, for sure. I’m not even sure the Agape Gardens could support such a crowd.

As I’m heading back to begin sorting, there’s a knock on my door, followed almost immediately by Joseph and Daniel wheeling in my freshly washed bike. They even dried it.

“Thanks, guys. Just lean it against the wall there by the door,” I tell them. They do, then come over for their pay. I give a copper to each boy. “Are your mothers both home?”

“Mine is,” says Joseph. “Sandy’s at the store.”

“Cool. Thanks again, guys.”

“No problem, Solly,” Joseph answers, and both boys leave.

The bigger gifts can wait until later. I put the soap in little bags by unit (T-14 gets two bags), put them in a basket and set out to distribute. I start down at T-8 because I know Jasmine’s home. I knock and she answers within a few seconds.

“Hey, Sol. Getting ready for the festival?” she asks.

“You bet!” I affirm, and pull out the (wait, no, this one) right bag. “For you and your kids. A festive smell for the festivities.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Jasmine plats.

“Sure, you could. Live a little,” I insist.

“Oh, alright. Thanks, Sol,” she says graciously, accepting the bag.

“Don’t mention it,” I say. “See you at dinner.” She thanks me again and shuts the door.

I head down to the next door, but there’s no answer when I knock. I hang the bag on the door handle and move on. T-10 and T-11 are likewise unresponsive, but I get an answer at T-12.

“Hey, Gordon. Is Torrance home?” I ask.

“Hi, Solly. Yeah, she is. Mom! Solly’s here,” he calls into the house.

“Invite him in,” calls back a voice from inside.

“Would you like to come in?” he asks me, a tad too sincerely.

“Sure,” I answer, and enter. The other boys are all playing some sort of game. From here, it looks like Hide and Find. Torrance comes out with a basket of clothes, her hair in a bonnet (the Ardor fashion).

“Hey, Sol. What do I owe the pleasure?” she asks.

“Oh, not much. Just wanted to drop off a gift for you and the boys before dinner,” I say.

Torrance is one of two charys in T-Block, a fairly common title in Agape. A chary is a person or persons (usually a single woman, but sometimes couples and occasionally a single man) who raises children for Ethos who have been either orphaned or abandoned. After Torrance had her son, Barlow, she found out she wouldn’t be able to have any more children, so she signed up to be a chary. Within three cycles, she was given four more boys, all younger than her boy (although the youngest, Wallace, is only thirty cycles younger). Ethos pays her a moil per child each cycle to raise them, though I know she’d do it for free. All five call Torrance Mom, and Torrance calls them all her sons. Technically, Ethos could take them from her any time, but they seldom do. The boys can also technically be adopted any time, but that’s even more seldom.

“Oh, that looks delightful,” Torrance exclaims, forgoing the token refusal in her excitement. All the better, in my opinion.

“You strike me as a lemon kind of woman,” I say, laying the bag on top of the laundry pile. “How’d I do?”

“Perfect,” Torrance says.

At least I know where Gordon gets the tone now. “See you at dinner,” I say, turning to leave.

Bye, Sol,” she calls over my shoulder. “And thanks!” I wave in acknowledgment as I leave.

I know T-13 is empty, so I don’t bother knocking. T-14 is answered by Lacey, third eldest of the Acey sisters.

“Hey, Lace. For you and your sisters,” I say, handing her the bags.

Thank you, Lacey signs (she’s a mute). Which one is mine?

“This one,” I say, pointing to a sky blue one. “It was called ‘Mountain Lake’. Thought you’d like it.” Lacey nods and signs thank you again. “No problem, Lace. See you at dinner.” Lacey shuts the door.

T-7 and T-6 are unresponsive, but T-5 is answered by Jerry, the youngest of Betsy’s three apprentice sons. “Hey, Solly. What’s up?”

“Not too much. How’s the Ag Guild treating you?” I ask.

“It’s awesome so far. My mentor thinks I’m a natural with horses. He might even get me a trainer job straight out of graduation,” Jerry says.

Horse trainer is a level two job, so to get such a job fresh out of the guild would be quite an accomplishment. “I’m sure you’ll blow them away. For you, your brothers, and your mom,” I say, handing him the bag.

“Oh, we can’t,” Jerry plats automatically, but as he’s already taking the bag, I don’t bother responding, just head down the hall. “See you at dinner,” I hear him call as the door shuts.

T-4 is me, of course and I know T-3 is empty. T-2 is answered by an older woman in an apron with flecks of tomato sauce and flour on it. “Hey Sol. Having a good Sepday?” she asks.

“Hey, Tamara. Yeah, it’s been pretty good. You or your sisters need a hand with dinner?” I reply.

Tamara and her sisters, Carmen and Janet, have lived in T-2 since the place was built some fifteen hundred cycles ago. To my knowledge, none of them have married or even courted a man. For Agape, they’re incredibly well off. Tamara and Carmen are senior nurses at Ethos General, and Janet is a missionary for the Order of Light. They’re also the resident babysitters, especially Janet, who’s almost always home. Kelly in particular uses them a lot with her boys.

“No, we have it pretty well in hand. Kelly should be home soon, anyway. She picked up an extra shift today in anticipation for the festival tomorrow. A little moil to get her boys something nice,” Tamara tells me.

“Wacha making?” I ask with interest. Tamara’s specialty is her peanut butter cookies, a personal favorite.

“Spaghetti and meatballs. We had just enough sausage left to make the meatballs. Also, a garden salad, garlic bread, and peanut butter cookies,” Tamara says knowingly.

Sweet! “Kelly making her special red dressing?”

“No, we didn’t have the right stuff. Just her usual buttermilk ranch.”

Bummer. I really like that red dressing. “That’s fine. For you and your sisters,” I say, handing her a bag.

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” Tamara says.

“But I did anyway,” I counter. “Something to spice you up for tomorrow.”

“Oh, you rascal. Thanks,” she says good-naturedly.

“No biggie. Can’t wait to eat,” I say eagerly.

“I’m sure you’ll find you can,” Tamara teases. She shuts the door and I go and hang Kelly’s bag on her door, completing my quest.

My watch tells me it’s 17:36, so it looks like I have not quite an hour of downtime before dinner. Downtime in Agape is not uncommon, but it’s normally dedicated to homework or chores. True free time for anyone working age is a rarity. I did my laundry on Quarday, and the Acey sisters cleaned my place spotless last night, so I find myself void of chores. Quinday was my last day at the Academy, so no homework. The places you’ll find television or music in Agape are the mayor’s mansion and the trains. I suppose I could read, but I don’t really feel like reading. What to do, what to do.

I decide to make myself useful and head down to the communal dining room to start setting the table. The table can stretch to hold sixty when needed, but seats fifty comfortably. The two end seats belong to the two units cooking that night, so tonight Tamara and Kelly will be at the ends. Otherwise, seating is sort of first come, first serve (although on her non-cooking days, Kelly’s seat is obvious, as it’s the one next to two highchairs, with Janet almost always taking their other side). I’m usually one of the first people to sit, so I’m usually chosen instead of choosing. Posy’s sat by me a couple times, but she’s usually beaten to the punch by two of the younger girls, typically Anna and one of the little Acey girls. Which is cool, they’re my buddies.

When I get to the dining room, I see I’ve already been beaten to the punch by Jennifer and Alice, sisters from T-10. So that’s why they didn’t answer. They’re both malleates, but Jennifer’s just a couple cycles from being a probate.

“Hey Jen, Al. You girls need a hand?” I ask.

Alice starts to say no, but Jennifer stops her. “Sure, we’d love a hand, Sol. You know what they’re making?” she asks.

“Spaghetti. We’ll need salad bowls, too,” I inform her.

“Sweet! I love Carmen’s spaghetti,” Alice says, noticeably brightening.

We start the somewhat tedious task of setting the table. Jennifer and Alice chat away, but I’m not listening. “How about you, Sol?” I hear.

“How about me what?” I ask.

Jennifer smiles and rolls her eyes. “The festivals, silly. Which ones are you going to?”

“Probably all of them, to be honest,” I tell her.

“Even Ardor’s?” Jennifer asks. “Have you ever been there?”

“Yeah, a few times. It’s actually quite nice out there,” I say.

“I wish I could go, but Gam and Al don’t want to, and I don’t wanna go by myself,” Jennifer pouts, pushing out her bottom lip.

When it comes to females and their subtleties, I’m usually an oblivious idiot, but the man in the moon could read this one. Not the date I would’ve chosen, but Jennifer’s cool enough to spend a day with. “You can come with me if you want.”

Jennifer’s face lights up. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna be a bother.”

“Positive. We have to be ready early, though. We have to catch the 400 ALAG if we want to be there when the festival starts.”

“I’ll be ready. I can’t wait!” She beams, going back to setting the table with gusto. Well, Donday is Posy’s dinner prep day, so I wouldn’t have been able to take her, anyway.

Carol and Anna come into the dining room just as we’re finishing. I go over to greet them. “Hey. End up at the shelter today?” I ask Carol. She goes to volunteer at the shelter most Sepdays.

“Yeah, Anna came with me, and even helped serve lunch. She’s such a good kid,” Carol says, kissing her daughter’s head.

Anna rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Nothing better to do. What’d you do, Solly?”

“Oh, did some shopping, went to Bonhomie and Lyceum. Which reminds me, come with me,” I answer, heading toward my unit. They follow me inside, and I hand Anna her box.

“For me?” Anna asks in surprise. “What’s in it?”

“I had them gift wrap it so I could tell you what it is,” I say deadpan.

Anna glares at me (the exact look I wanted), but it only lasts a second. She opens the box in no time flat. “A curling iron!” she gasps. “Yay! I can make myself pretty now!”

“Anna, you’re already beautiful,” I say.

Anna gives me a hug, mostly to hide her blush. “Thanks, Solly,” she says muffled. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Anna.” And I do, like she was my little sister. I grab the plain brown sack and hand it to Carol. “Sorry, Carol. Lyceum doesn’t gift wrap.”

“Oh, Solomon, you shouldn’t have,” Carol says, flustered.

“Well, I did anyway. Hope you like it,” I say.

She pulls out the book. “Cadmium? She must be new. Is she good?” she asks.

“She did pretty well on the inside cover,” I say.

“Huh?” Carol asks, opening the cover and finding Cadmium’s poem and autograph. “Wow, that’s actually really cool. How’d you manage that?”

“She happened to be at the bookstore,” I say, shrugging. “Just good timing.”

“This is wonderful, Solomon. Thank you.” I get another hug.

“You’re welcome, Carol. Still coming to Alacrity with me, Anna?”

“I’ll curl my hair for you,” Anna says with a wink.

“Should I curl mine, too?” I ask. That makes them both laugh. My hair is shorter than a rice grain.

It’s 18:17, so we head back to the communal room. I find a seat, and Anna immediately takes the seat to my left. Thirty seconds later, Jezebel takes the seat on my other side.

“Hey, Jezzy. Come see me after dinner. I got a little something for you,” I say.

Jezebel gets immediately curious. “What is it?”

“Uh-uh-uh. After we eat. Be patient,” I tell her.

“Aww, alright. You better not forget,” she says with a pout.

“Forget what?” I ask, prompting a kick in the shin (which actually kind of hurts).

Just then Tamara comes in, carrying a pot of spaghetti. “Save my seat,” I say hastily to Anna, then head down the hall to start helping. I’m not alone in this, as all the adults except Kelly haul dishes of food. By the time the whole table’s set, we have six pots of spaghetti (sauce and meatballs mixed in), seven large bowls of salad (which is spinach, tomatoes, carrots, red onion, and egg with dressing pre-mixed), fourteen plates of garlic bread, and twelve jugs of iced tea. (Unsweet. The only drinks that anyone in Agape might put sugar in are lemonade and coffee.)

Once everyone’s seated, Janet stands up to say grace. We all join hands as she begins; “Light of Ethos, come down into our darkness and warm our spirits. Let this food be light to our bodies and our lives. So be it.”

“So be it,” everyone finishes, and we start to dish up. I stand up and help the girls get their spaghetti (the tongs are rather big) and salad (those tongs are even bigger). Kasey, who’s on the other side of Anna, comes by and pours our drinks for us.

“Hey, Sol,” she says mid-pour, “are you going to the Lyceum festival?”

“Yeah, probably,” I tell her.

“Well, I told Lacey I’d go with her, but the hospital needs me to work. Could you go with her?” Kasey asks.

“Sure, if she wants to,” I say. “You sure she wouldn’t rather go alone?”

“Hey, Lacey,” Kasey calls down the table. Lacey’s four seats away, next to Posy. She gets up and comes over. “Sol’s going to Lyceum Quarday. You can go with him unless you’d rather go alone.”

You’re not going? Lacey signs.

“No, gotta work,” Kasey says, clearly annoyed. “Boris told me right as I was clocking out. I’m lucky I got tomorrow off.”

Lacey turns to me and signs, Is it OK if I go with you?

“Of course,” I say without hesitation. “If you think you could stand a whole day with me.”

Oh, I suppose, she signs, which makes us both grin.

“Should we get up for the six train or would you rather take the seven?” I ask. The seven train would make us eleven minutes late for the open.

Seven, she signs. Definitely seven.

I nod, not surprised. “I thought so. Be ready by six thirty, then.”

Lacey nods, gives me a kiss (a sisterly kiss), and goes back to her seat.

“She’s very fond of you, you know,” Kasey says as she puts down the (now empty) tea jug. “You and the twins are the only ones her age who treat her as normal.”

“That’s just because she’s so much cooler that everyone else and they’re jealous,” I say. “Me, I’ve learned to live with it.”

Kasey smiles at me. “I hope you stick around for your apprenticeship. We’d all miss you, but Lacey and Macey especially. You’re the brother we never had.”

“I will if I’m allowed. I’m still not sure what guild I’m gonna join,” I say.

Since T-Block is only widows and orphans, no citizen or civilian men may live here. You either have to be an Academy student or an apprentice, and even apprenticeship may not be enough if you’re not living with your mother. Most guilds let you live where you please, but there are a few sects (like the law enforcement sect of the Military Guild) that have their own required residence. The oldest male in T-Block is Jeff, who’s 1094 tomorrow. When he graduates the Education Guild (six cycles away), he’ll have to leave, even though he’s lived here over eight hundred cycles. He and Kelly have been dating for about sixty cycles now, and they’re both a little worried about it, though neither have talked to me about it, or anything. If I had to guess, I’d say Jeff’s gonna propose soon, but who knows.

“Well, fair warning: if you leave, you’ll have at least one new housemate. Daisy already said as much,” Kasey says.

“Two,’ Anna says. “I’d go with him, too.”

I chuckle. “Looks like I’m stuck here, then.”

“Looks like you are,” Kasey agrees, noticeably more relaxed. She sits back down beside Anna, and I finally dish myself. The spaghetti is fantastic. Whatever seasonings Carmen adds to the sauce are perfect. I never buy seasonings, as I can’t tell them apart, unless Tracey or someone asks me to.

As I’m eating, I zone out a bit trying to think what this meal cost to put together. On the one hand, no fruits in it (except tomatoes, and they’re priced like a vegetable), so that helps. Plus, the meatballs are pork, not beef, which is significantly cheaper. The noodles, on the other hand, are clearly B flour, and the garlic bread is A flour. I have no idea what constitutes buttermilk ranch (except buttermilk, of course), but even leaving that aside, I bet this would cost three moil, easy, and that’s not counting the cookies, either (peanut anything is expensive). Granted, they probably got the A flour, eggs, and milk from me, so they probably saved some that way. Still, it’s a lot more than red beans and rice would be (which is a common dish in Agape), and far better tasting. Ninety percent of the people in Agape couldn’t afford a meal like this, which is why Janet always makes trays out of any leftovers we have and hands them out to the homeless. She usually gets about twelve plates’ worth. Her and her sisters are the only household in Agape I know of (except myself, of course) that regularly makes more than thirty moil per cycle (and Janet, being a missionary, only gets two moil per cycle from the Order), so we’re extremely fortunate here in T-Block (despite the reasons we live here in the first place). I should be grateful (and I am, really), but the fact that this meal is considered extravagant rather than normal, while there are Captains and Largos who have servants to cook for them… No, stop Solomon. Eat and be happy, or else you won’t enjoy your food.

Once she’s done with her food, Tamara sneaks off for a minute or two and returns with a plate of cookies. The cookies are small, about the size of an indigen, but there’s probably three hundred of them. Finished myself, I take my dishes over to the sink, grab three cookies (I’ll probably come back for more), and head down to my unit. By the time I reach my door, I register I have a follower.

“You said you had something for me?” Jezebel says behind me.

“You wasted no time, I see,” I say back, grinning.

Jezebel gives me a skeptical look. “Did you expect anything else?”

“Not really, no.” I head in and take the bag of raisins from the nearby cabinet. “The LYAG train had these today. Figured you’d like a bag.”

Jezebel snatches them from my hand. “Sweet!” Usually only the LACA train has them, so they’re somewhat rare for Agapites. “Can I share them with Daisy and the chary girls?” The “chary girls” being Susan, Lucy, and Lauren from T-6. Their assigned mother, Edith, is the other chary here. None of them are biologically related to Edith or one another, but only twenty-three cycles separate them. Susan is rather aloof, and doesn’t like talking to males at all, regardless of age, but Lucy and Lauren are two of my buddies.

“They’re yours to do with as you please, Jez. That’s what friends are for, after all,” I tell her.

She runs off smiling. She never said thank you, but Jezebel usually forgets those sorts of things. I know she’s grateful.

I take the clock and head down to T-14. I’m not alone in leaving my door unlocked, but I knock anyway, in case someone’s in there changing or something. In the hundred and fifty-some cycles the Aceys have lived here, I have managed to walk in on each of them mostly naked or worse at least once (Chasey’s the unfortunate leader with four such invasions). I swear I knock every time, or mostly every time, but these things still happen. The last time was three cycles ago, and Tracey joked she should just start changing in my unit. At least she has a sense of humor about it. It still embarrasses me to the max, though. I suppose if they were my sisters and lived with me, it’d happen so often it wouldn’t phase me, but it still does.

The knock on the door is answered by Macey (fully clothed, mercifully), who lets me in. “What’s up, Sol?”

“Oh, nothing really,” I say. “Cody ask you to any festivals with him yet?”

Macey nods, beaming. “He’s going with me tomorrow, then taking me to Capstone on Sepday. I was hoping he’d take me to Bonhomie, but he wants to go to Capstone instead. At least he asked me, though,” she says.

Bonhomie. That’s the one I really want to bring Posy to. But I know Macey won’t get to go there otherwise. “I’ll take you to Bonhomie if you want,” I offer.

“Wouldn’t you rather take Posy? I know Bonhomie’s your favorite,” she counters. She knows me too well.

“True, but there’s no guarantee she’d even want to go with me,” I point out.

Macey laughs. “Sol, for such a smart guy, you can be a real dummy sometimes.”

That gets my attention. “What do you mean by that?” I ask.

Macey just rolls her eyes. “Boys. How we girls can stand to put up with you I’ll never understand.” I still have no idea what she’s talking about, and it looks like it’s gonna stay that way. “Take Posy, Sol. She’ll say yes unless she can’t for some reason. If that’s the case, then sure, I’ll go with you,” she tells me kindly.

Well, that I can understand. Why didn’t she just start with that? “If you insist, I guess,” I say, shrugging.

Macey smiles. “You’re such a goon.” Only then does she notice the sack in my hand. “What’s that?” she asks.

“Oh, it’s a clock. I know yours quit, and I happened to be in Lyceum today.” I pull it out. “You know where Tracey would want it?”

“No, not really,” she says. “Just put it on the table for now.”

I do so, careful to set it face up. “You sure, Macey? I don’t want you to have to miss out by being noble,” I say.

“Positive, Sol. Go. Enjoy yourself. You are allowed to do that, you know,” Macey answers.

“I enjoy myself plenty,” I say.

“OK. Sure,” she says. She really does know me too well. “You gonna ask her to come with you when you move?”

“Huh?” That came out of left field. “Who says I’m moving?”

“Never mind,” she says, shaking her head. What’s up with her today? It’s less weird walking in on her. I shrug it off, though. She’s just being Macey.

“Alright, see you later,” I say, turning to leave.

“Bye, Sol,” she says from behind me. I catch a glimpse of her when I shut the door and notice she’s watching me with a sad smile. There should be some sort of guild that teaches guys how to translate “girl” into plainspeak. Then again, no one would ever graduate. It’d be like trying to learn an alphabet with a hundred million letters.

The conversation with Macey was long enough to ensure that everyone had a chance to get some cookies, and Janet should’ve already separated the cookies she’s adding to the trays, leaving the rest as fair game. I return to the dining room hoping to get some more, but apparently, they were a big hit today, because none are left. I’m more than a little bummed, but those are the breaks. I start to leave the room when Posy stops me by the door, holding eight cookies.

“I knew you’d want more than you took,” she says, “so I saved some for you before they ran out.”

Well, that was thoughtful. I pop one in my mouth. “Want one?” I ask through a mouthful of cookie.

Posy chuckles at my lack of manners. “No, I already had too many,” she insists. “You going to any festivals this cycle?”

I remember to swallow the cookie this time before speaking. “Yeah, probably all of them, actually. How about you?” I ask.

“Oh, the pharmacy needed volunteers to work this cycle, so I only have Onday and Sepday off,” she sighs. “At least I’ll get to go to those two.”

Guess that means I’m taking Macey to Bonhomie, after all. “Need a date?” I ask. “I could provide references if you need them”

Posy laughs. “Save the references. I’d love to go with you.”

Love. She said ‘love’. The smile on my face probably looks stupid, but I can’t contain it. “That’s awesome! Come with me, I got something for you,” I say.

Josy comes up behind Posy with a knowing smile. They’d be completely identical, except Posy lost the little finger of her left hand in the accident that killed their parents. She’s a bit self-conscious about it sometimes, but I only notice it when I’m paying special attention to it. The big difference between them is personality. If they were birds, Posy would be a dove and Josy a peacock. Josy’s a lot more liked by boys at school, but Posy’s been the twin I’ve been attracted to ever since I met them. Still, I like Josy well enough, too.

“Hey, Sol. Corrupting my sister?” Josy asks in mock concern.

“Irrevocably,” I say cheerfully. “Good timing, Josy. I got something for you, too.”

Josy gets a curious look. “Trying to butter me up so I’d let you take my sister to the festival tomorrow?”

Technically, Posy’s the older twin by sixteen minutes, but you’d never know it. “Maybe. You’ll have to tell me if it works. Come on,” I say, eating another cookie on the walk. “You working, too, Josy?”

“Yeah, every day but Sixday. I even have to work the booth tomorrow,” Josy complains.

“Going to Largesse’s festival, then?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” she shrugs.

“Well, if you do, you can come with me,” I offer.

“You’d go with me and not Posy?” Josy asks, surprised.

“I have to work Sixday,” Posy interjects helpfully. “He’s going with me tomorrow and taking me to Capstone. He’s a free agent the rest of the cycle.”

“Oh,” Josy says. “Then sure, I’ll go with you. Should be fun. When do you wanna leave?”

“Early enough to catch the 600 LYAG train, so probably five thirty,” I say, pulling her box from a cabinet.

“I’ll be ready,” Josy promises.

“You can even use this if you want,” I say, handing Josy her box.

Josy inspects the small box. “What’s this for?”

“It’s usually for wrapping things to present as gifts to people,” I answer, deliberately misunderstanding. Posy snorts and Josy rolls her eyes. Posy’s face goes from pretty to radiant when she laughs. I’m pretty pleased with myself.

Josy unwraps her box and pulls out the little scarlet bottle. “Inferno!” she exclaims.

“The lady said its…” I start, but she interrupts.

“I know what it is. I’ve wanted a bottle forever, but we can never afford it!” she exclaims. She looks at me with gratitude and something else I can’t identify. “Thank you, Sol. You think Posy would let me kiss you?”

“Yes, but just one kiss,” Posy says.

Josy kisses me (not a sisterly kiss) and heads back to her unit. I admit it was awesome, but it didn’t stir anything inside me. I look over at Posy, who’s trying to look amused, but her eyes betray her fear.

“Not too bad, but she’s fighting a losing battle if she wants me,” I say with a grin. The fear leaves her eyes and she laughs. I go to another cabinet and get Posy’s gift. “For my favorite twin,” I say.

Posy blushes and slowly unwraps the package. She gasps when she sees the scarf. “Oh, Solomon, this is beautiful!” she cries.

“Here, let me put it on you,” I say, taking the scarf and wrapping it around her neck, tucking the end under so the tail hangs over her heart.

“How’s it look?” Posy asks, posing a little.

“Almost as beautiful as you,” I say.

Posy’s blush intensifies. “Oh, I can’t wait for tomorrow! A whole day with you!” she exclaims, wrapping her arms around me and laying her head on my chest. “Thank you, Solomon.”

“I like how you call me ‘Solomon’,” I say truthfully. She’s now the third person I’ve let call me that without correction. It feels right.

“Good, because I plan to from now on,” Posy says, releasing me. “Did you get any groceries today? Need any help distributing?”

Normally, I’d say no, but yes means more time with her. “If you’re offering, I won’t turn it down.”

“Of course I’m offering, silly,” Posy says. “When do you expect the truck?”

I check my watch. 19:57. “Any minute now.”

“Want to wait out back with me?” The people who built this place put a warehouse-style door at the end of the main hallway past the dining room. When the truck backs in, the floor of the back ends up flush with the hallway. Makes it much easier to unload. Pretty brilliant, in my opinion.

“Sounds wonderful.” I hold out my right hand to her. She hesitates a moment, then puts her left hand in mine. I lift her hand and kiss the knuckle where her pinkie used to be. “I like you as you are, Posy,” I say. “Never be ashamed of how you’re made.”

“OK, Solomon,” she replies. “I’ll try.”

We head outside and sit together on an ancient swinging bench (easily four thousand cycles old). Posy cuddles into me, but otherwise, we just sit quietly. As the minutes pass, I start to feel her breathing, and then her heartbeat. She’s incredibly warm. And soft. I stroke her hair idly. It feels wonderful. Whatever happens when I choose my guild, Posy’s gonna be a part of it, I decide as we swing. If she wants to be, that is. I’ll have to find out when we’re in Capstone.

We’ve been sitting there about ten minutes when the truck arrives. Posy and I go around to the front and head inside so we can be ready when they start unloading. I’m usually the only one at T-Block who gets Sepday deliveries, so it’s typically just me and the delivery guys. The truck backs into place, at which point they head around the building to join us. The first one to reach us is Richard. He’s been the head delivery guy since before my mother and I first moved here. He’s probably 2200 now, but he’s still in pretty good shape. Normal policy is to show him the card with my ID number to confirm my order, but he only does that when he’s training a new employee. We know one another.

“Hey, Sol,” Richard says. “Finally find yourself a girlfriend?”

“Yes, he did,” Posy declares with a smile. Looks like I have.

“Yes, I did,” I affirm. “Just my order tonight?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles a little. “I think you went a little overboard on that chicken.”

“Richard, if it lasts three cycles, I’m a panda,” I say.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a bleeding heart. Blah, blah, blah,” he says. Richard’s a good guy, but he’s also a lifelong Alacretian, and our culture remains strange to him.

I chuckle. “I’ll eat plenty of it, though, don’t worry.”

“You got chicken?” Posy asks. “Did you get any lemons?”

I look at her inquisitively. “Yeah, a few. Why?”

Posy shrugs. “I might make lemon pepper chicken for Donday, then, if Jasmine doesn’t already have a plan.”

“How many lemons would you need?” I ask.

“Not many. Six or seven, probably,” she says.

“I could probably swing that.” I say. I had already planned on giving them a couple. I’ll just up it to ten.

It takes about ten minutes to unload everything (they have both a large dolly and even larger cart to assist). I thank Richard and the other two workers and get to work dividing everything.

“By the holy Light, Solomon. This is enough to feed everyone for cycles,” Posy says in awe.

“That’s sort of the idea,” I say, chuckling. “There are empty sacks in the cabinet next to the fridge. Bring me twelve, please. And the black marker from the drawer above it.”

“Sure thing,” she says, going to fetch it.

Alright, first things first; the cold stuff. I unwrap the gross of eggs and put six dozen in my fridge. The meats are in the freezer, so they’ll keep. I unwrap the first pallet of milk and put six bottles in my fridge. All the cheese is next, followed by three of the butter sticks. I’ll cut them into smaller sticks later. Posy comes back with the sacks and the marker. “Label one for each unit except mine and T-14,” I say. She nods and does so. “Alright, each bag gets two bottles of milk.” We put the milk in the sacks. This is so much faster with two people. “One, two, five, six, and thirteen get a butterstick.” Again, we split the job. I put two sticks in eleven’s bag, as well. “Two and eleven each get three cartons of eggs.” I notice Posy has an eye for balance in the bags. It’s almost surgical. She amazes me more and more every day. “Every bag should get three oranges. I’ll do the lemons.” Each bag gets four lemons except Posy’s, which gets ten. I hand her the last six lemons in my open bag as she’s finishing. “There’s a big bowl on the counter where fruit goes.”

“I know where that is,” Posy says. “Do I put any of the full bags in there?”

I shake my head. “Just the leftovers from the last open bag. Same with the apples.” I put four apples in each sack except eleven and thirteen, who get eight. I give the leftovers to Posy again, who puts them in my bowl. Again, her eye for balance astounds me. When she returns, I say, “That’s it for the bags. The flour, sugar, and salt everyone comes to get at their leisure. All that remains is the delivering. Had enough, or would you like to help me deliver?”

“I want to deliver with you, of course,” Posy says. “I’ve never been able to do something like this before. I bet it’s fulfilling.”

“Just you wait,” I say, smiling. “Kelly’s first. Her bag, a bag of potatoes, a brick of chocolate, and a tray of chicken. Which two do you want?”

“You take the chicken and the chocolate,” Posy says. “The bags are easier for me to grip.”

“Fair enough,’ I say, getting a tray of chicken from the freezer and a brick.

We make the short trek down to T-1 and knock. Kelly answers quickly. “Hey, Sol, Posy. What’s up?”

“Makin’ a delivery,” I say, heading in. “Got me a helper today. She came highly recommended.” Posy laughs behind me.

“Chicken? Woohoo! Is that for next cycle or what?” Kelly asks.

“No, just for your own use. I got a big roll of ground beef for you guys to use for the Sepday dinner. I’ll give it to Tamara, since her freezer’s bigger,” I say.

“That’s even better.” She looks in the sack. “Oh, you even have oranges! Ever had orange chicken?” she asks.

“Can’t say that I have,” says Posy.

“Me, either,” I add.

“Well, I’ll make you both a batch sometime,” Kelly says. “It’d be even better with some white rice.”

“I got some,” I say. “Bring an extra container whenever you come down for flour and such.”

“Will do, then,” Kelly confirms. She hugs both me and Posy. “Be good to this one. He’s pretty special,” she says to Posy.

“Oh, I plan to,” Posy says with a wink. It’s my turn to blush.

“Well, more deliveries beckon. Enjoy your night, Kelly,” I say.

Kelly smiles at me. “Thanks as always, Sol, from me and my boys.”

As we’re heading back to my unit, Posy asks, “Hey, why didn’t Tracey’s unit get a sack?”

“Because they get most of the rest of it,” I say.

Posy’s eyes get big. “You haul all that down there?”

I laugh. “Not by myself. Once the rest of the deliveries are done, I knock on their door and they all come help. Even little Zasey.”

“Can we do my unit next?” Posy asks.

I usually do her unit last. “Any particular reason?” I reply.

“To enlist a third helper,” Posy says, her face set in a devious grin. It makes me snicker.

“Not a bad idea. Sure, let’s go,” I say. “Same thing for you.” Posy picks up their sack and another bag of potatoes. I grab two bricks of chocolate and follow after her. Posy opens the door and I follow behind her.

“So that’s where you ran off to,” Josy says. “I was starting to wonder a little.” She takes the cold bag from Posy and starts to empty it in their fridge.

“I’m helping him deliver. Would you like to join us?” Posy asks.

“Oh, I suppose,” Josy answers. “Since you brought us chocolate.” She notices the second brick as I’m setting it down. “A lot of chocolate.”

“You have no idea, Josy,” Posy says.

The three of us head back to my unit. “Whoa,” I hear Josy exclaim behind me.

“Right?” Posy says. “Who’s next, Solomon?”

“Still you guys,” I say. “Grab another sack of potatoes, Posy. Josy, come with me.” She follows me over to the freezer. “Can you carry two trays of chicken?”

“What am I, a sapling?” Josy challenges. “Of course, I can. But that’s for us?”

I pick up a third tray of chicken and a slat of bacon. “These, too.”

“That could feed us for cycles!” Josy exclaims. “Well, maybe not. Some of this is for Donday, right?”

I nod. “Posy said she’s making lemon pepper chicken.”

Josy almost drops her trays. “Wait, what?”

“Is that a big deal?” I ask.

“She hasn’t made that since our parents died. She used to make it for Dad all the time. It was his favorite meal.” She looks at me intensely, then shrugs and starts off before I can respond. Wouldn’t know how to, anyway.

Once we’re back from T-13, I say, “T-2’s next. Posy, you grab the cold sack and potatoes. Josy, grab a tray of chicken and a brick. I’ll get the beef roll.” So laden, we head over to T-2. Posy knocks and Carmen answers.

“Hey Posy, Josy, Sol. Bearing tidings, I see. That beef roll for Sepday?” she asks.

“If you want it to be,” I answer.

“Well, come on in. How’s meat loaf sound?” Carmen asks the girls.

“Sounds wonderful, actually,” Josy says.

“What’s the chicken for?” Janet asks from the kitchen as we’re unloading.

“Well, most people eat it, but I suppose you could use it for whatever you want,” I say. Both the twins laugh. I love making Posy laugh.

“Oh ha-ha, young man,” Janet snaps, but she’s smiling. “I meant is it for anything special?”

“No, just for you ladies to enjoy. They had a sale on chicken, so I bought a lot,” I say.

“Thanks, Sol,” Tamara says from her chair. She’s embroidering a mountain sunset. It looks phenomenal, actually.

“Not a problem. Have a wonderful evening, ladies,” I call as we leave.

“Don’t say things like that when I’m carrying something,” Josy warns.

“I’ll try to be more careful,” I say with mock gravity. Josy rolls her eyes. “Sandy’s next. Same as T-2, except they get a slat of bacon, too. I’ll come back for that, though.” We grab our items and head next door. Posy knocks and Sandra’s older son, Jonah, is the answerer.

“Hey Sol, ladies. All that for us?” he asks.

“You bet. Think you can take this roll while I grab one more thing?” I ask.

“Sure. Hey, Danny, give me a hand.” Daniel comes over and they take the roll. Thing I missed not having a brother #79,486: hauling partner.

Once I return with the bacon, Sandra’s already got most everything put away. Jezebel sees me come in and runs over. “Hey, Solly. Want a raisin?” she asks, holding the half-empty package toward me.

“You sure?” I say.

“Yeah. I share with my friends. You’re my friend,” Jezebel confirms.

“Then sure,” I say, smiling, and pick out a perfectly round one. “You offer the twins one?”

Jezebel nods. “They’re friends, too.”

I bring the bacon to Sandra in the kitchen. Except for Kelly, she’s the youngest parent here. I think she was still at the Academy when Jonah was born. That in itself isn’t rare, but finishing the Academy afterward is, and Sandra even managed to graduate from the nursing sect of the Guild of Medicine. She works in the hospice ward of Ethos General now, as a manager. Pays almost ten moil a cycle. She’s definitely someone to admire for determination.

“Thanks, Sol,” she tells me, taking the bacon from me. “If we had cheese, I’d make bacon cheese beef patties Quinday.”

“I have white cheddar and gouda. How much do you need?” I ask.

“Oh, just a single block would do. Gouda, please,” Sandra says.

I go to grab the cheese and come back. Posy and Josy are already headed back by that time, so I give Jonah the cheese block and say goodbye.

Each successive unit gets a brick of chocolate, a tray of chicken, a bag of potatoes, and their cold sack. We make quick work of T-5 (who also gets bacon), T-6 (who also gets a pot roast), T-7, T-8, T-9, and T-10 (who also gets bacon). Carol’s unit takes a little extra time, as she also gets a pot roast, two slats of bacon, an extra bag of potatoes, and an extra brick of chocolate. Anna particularly loves the chocolate. T-12 also goes a little longer with two extra chicken trays. Torrance mentions cashew chicken, so I bring her my bag of cashews and she pours about half a keg into a container. If my calculations are correct, that means we’ll have pot roast tomorrow night, lemon pepper chicken Donday, another roast Treday, cashew chicken Quarday, bacon-cheese beef patties Quinday, chicken soup Sixday, and meat loaf Sepday. My mouth is watering just thinking about it, and I’m not even hungry. Since dinner is pushed back on festival days, it’s still a home affair.

Finally, we’re down to just T-14. I knock on the door and don’t even wait for an answer. Over the next fifteen minutes, the twelve of us haul the whole of their portion: three bags of oranges, two bags of lemons, two bags of apples, two pot roasts, three trays of chicken, a slat of bacon, a roll of ground beef, six bottles of milk, four cartons of eggs, four blocks of gouda, five blocks of white cheddar, five bags of potatoes, two sticks of butter, a sack of flour, a sack of sugar, a sack of salt, six bricks of chocolate, and all the veggies. Josy and Posy impress me by hauling the sugar and flour sacks. I don’t even like carrying them.

Once we’re done, I check my watch. 21:38. That means everyone will wait until tomorrow to get their flour and such. Good, I’m tired.

“Thanks for helping, Posy, Josy,” I say. “I would’ve been up until twenty-three doing that on my own.”

Josy gives me a hug. “You wore me out good. I’ll sleep like a rock,” she grunts.

“That means I’ll need earplugs,” Posy teases, which makes us all laugh.

“One thing I noticed, though,” Josy says. “Nobody gave you a token refusal for any of that stuff. Why not?”

“Well, like I said, alone it usually takes a lot longer, though I had more than usual today, and it simply helps save time. Plus, it gets heavy waiting for the niceties. Most caught on, a couple I actually had to ask to stop, but they all know not to bother on delivery nights,” I say.

“Well, that makes sense,” Josy says. “Goodnight, Sol.”

“Night, Josy,” I say, hugging her again.

She makes it to my doorway before turning around. “Posy, you coming?” she asks.

“In a minute,” Posy says, her eyes locked on me. Josy just chuckles and heads down the hall.

“Thanks again for helping, Posy. You were pretty incredible,” I say.

“Oh, it was nothing. I like spending time with you,” she says.

“I enjoy being with you, too,” I say.

Nothing happens for a few seconds, then she kisses me, and I’m kissing her back, and it’s magic, oh, it’s magic. We float higher and higher until the clouds are beneath us, and suddenly we’re in space, the planet shrinking to nothing in the distance. We pass comets and asteroids and stars until we’re sucked into a black hole which spins us, spins us, spins us, until we burst into a supernova of fire and water and light.

Then suddenly it’s over and I’m back in Ethos on solid ground. I heave a sigh of pleasure. “That one, I felt,” I say.

Posy giggles. “Better than my sister?” she pries.

“One of your kisses is worth a million of hers,” I say.

She kisses me again, which sends me back into space. “Goodnight, Solomon. See you tomorrow. Seven thirty?”

“That’ll be perfect. See you then,” I manage. She walks slowly toward the door, lingers for a moment, then heads down the hall. I’m gonna marry her. No doubt about it.

By 22:00, I’m in bed, and fall asleep almost instantly. I end up dreaming about Posy. I won’t go into details. Suffice to say that it was a good dream.