Sime~Gen Roleplaying on IRC: Snake River Dam Scenario
Episode #18: Mischief (7/20/00)
Wise Snake walks past one of Arat's personal bodyguards, and gives him a smile.
Wise Snake's smile broadens as he smiles back; he doesn't know her well enough yet to realize when she's smiling is when he should be most wary.
Wise Snake continues past him to slip into the curtained-off doorway that is Arat's and Jeniard's bedroom.
Wise Snake tugs the curtain back into place, more so that the security guard won't notice anything than out of any concern for Nick and Arat's privacy, and then turns to the bed, rubbing her hands together in anticipation.
Nick looks up from the chair by the bed, where he's greasing his boots against leaks.
Nick has not had enough time for such chores lately, and has welcomed the chance to catch up while waiting for Arat to return from the dead.
Arat lies on the bed, fully clothed and fully unwashed, where he collapsed after his and Nick's transfer some hours earlier.
Wise Snake: A peaceful scene, [comments]
Wise Snake is at her very worst, probably because her technical father and nominal superior has arrived at last, and she doesn't know how to handle it.
Nick sets the boots down.
Nick: It won't be, when he wakes up, I expect.
Nick has known Snake long enough to gage her moods, and treats them with all due caution.
Wise Snake studies Arat intensely; she hasn't had the opportunity to catch him unawares before.
Nick follows Snake's gaze.
Wise Snake drifts closer, zlinning.
Nick: He looks more like you, when he's asleep.
Wise Snake: You mean, when he hasn't had a bath in more days than anybody can count?
Wise Snake hasn't either, but that's nothing unusual for her.
Nick chuckles, while watching the situation closely.
Wise Snake: So you're telling me I look like a dead body a raider tossed on the side of the road. [suggests]
Wise Snake finally comes to sit on the side of the bed, opposite to Nick's with Arat between them.
Wise Snake: Thank you... I think.
Wise Snake quirks a sly/challenging smile.
Nick winks.
Wise Snake: What do you suppose will be the first order of business?
Nick: You mean, after he's showered?
Wise Snake traces a tentacle over the rather mud-splattered emblem on the front of Arat's uniform.
Wise Snake: If you prefer.
Nick has managed to get Arat's uniforms cleaned, although there wasn't any way to get them pressed as well.
Wise Snake is wearing a Tecton uniform, but it is ripped in a dozen places and clearly hasn't seen the inside--or even the surface-- of a body of water in several days.
Nick: He ought to spend about eight hours straight giving transfers. That being the case, he'll probably insist on offloading the selyn he brought instead, and tackle the administrative end.
Nick: Birch was complaining about the uncertainty of the selyn supply, earlier.
Wise Snake eyes Nick's sleeping charge speculatively.
Wise Snake: How long has it been since he served transfers for eight hours in a row?
Wise Snake's meandering tentacle traces its way around his shoulder and down one of his arms, the nearer one.
Nick grimaces.
Wise Snake picks up his hand curiously.
Nick: At least three years, I expect.
Wise Snake: Better him than me.
Nick wonders how much of that statement was pity, and how much contempt.
Wise Snake: Got any more of whatever he's on?
Nick raises an eyebrow, then reaches out with his nager and projects ~~~ sleep ~~~ at Snake.
Wise Snake grimaces and goes hypo.
Wise Snake: Is that all?
Wise Snake: Well, you better lighten up, dude's dead as a doornail.
Wise Snake lifts the hand she'd been playing with, in illustration.
Wise Snake then drops it and sticks some exploratory tentacles into a pocket or two... not her own, of course.
Wise Snake has always wanted to explore Arat's pockets, but he was always able to catch her thinking about it.
Nick reaches out to catch Snake's hand as she withdraws her loot.
Wise Snake glances pointedly at Nick.
Wise Snake: What?
Nick inspects the loot: a Tecton ID, a money clip carrying bills of a size few local merchants are willing to change, a bottle of Farris-safe antihistamines, and a wad of used handkerchiefs.
Nick: I expect he'll want these when he wakes up.
Nick retrieves the ID and money clip, setting them safely on the bedside table behind him.
Wise Snake is distracted by a glint at Arat's uniform neck.
Wise Snake uses a tentacle to fish out a copper charm with tiny fluorite beads on it.
Wise Snake: Pretty trinket, but not what I'd expect him to wear.
Wise Snake fingers the chain, then lets it lie.
Nick looks at the charm curiously.
Nick wonders why Arat wears it.
Wise Snake: Looks southern.
Wise Snake ought to know, she dealt with enough drug dealers from the region.
Wise Snake: I don't imagine I am going to get in anything fun in the way of revenge with you motherhenning like this.
Nick: Snake, he's here, and he won't be able to leave for years. That's revenge enough.
Wise Snake: Years? [skeptically] That's crazy. He won't last two months.
Wise Snake is definitely veering nearer to contempt than pity at this point.
Wise Snake stands and goes to look out the dingy window overlooking a spectacular drop.
Nick chuckles.
Nick: I seem to recall a lot of very high-rated channels who thought another channel I know wouldn't last more than a few months.
Nick: He may surprise you.
Wise Snake glances at Nick disparagingly.
Wise Snake: He and I can't be compared.
Wise Snake: I grew up living by my wits.
Nick decides not to press the point, although it's at times like these that Nick finds the resemblance between father and daughter most striking.
Nick: There is that.
Wise Snake: I help myself. I'm always experimenting, searching, trying things.
Nick could wish for fewer experiments, searches, and trials involving recreational pharmaceuticals, but he knew that would be a problem whenever Snake got out of confinement. And while she was in it, as well.
Wise Snake: And, [significantly] I know my ass from a hole in the ground when it comes to dealing with other people.
Wise Snake: People is all we have here, in case you hadn't noticed.
Wise Snake: Can't get by hiding behind the structure of regulation.
Nick: He's going to have a hard time learning that.
Nick hopes it won't be too much of a shock, coming on top of the physical surroundings.
Wise Snake returns to her spot at the side of the bed, looking thoughtfully down at her sire.
Wise Snake picks up the end of his braid, eyeing it speculatively.
Nick: How bad is the entran? I haven't been able to do as much as I'd like, with him sleeping.
Wise Snake: It's bad.
Wise Snake smiles.
Wise Snake innocently produces a pair of cable shears from an oversized pocket. This isn't the sort of thing she'd ordinarily be carrying around, of course.
Nick sighs.
Nick: I don't suppose there'll be another convenient accident, just when he wakes up, that'll require him to work for hours?
Wise Snake: Do you think there should be?
Wise Snake tugs the rest of the braid out from under him, and....
Nick reaches across the bed and removes the braid from Snake's hand before the cable shears can be used on it.
Wise Snake: Ah, you can't protect him from life, Nick.
Wise Snake replaces the shears where they came from.
Wise Snake: That was the Sime Center's job.
Nick notices that bits of hair have escaped from the braid, giving it a rather ragged look.
Nick: I don't think he's ever had much chance to live. At least, not since he left New Othwol, and maybe not before, either.
Nick: I've often wondered what he'd be like, if he had.
Wise Snake snorts.
Wise Snake: A person has to make their life. Not wait for it to be handed to them. If he hasn't lived, he hasn't tried.
Nick looks at Arat speculatively.
Arat continues to lie there obliviously, somewhat resembling the discarded corpse of Snake's simile.
Nick: I expect he didn't dare try, after his disjunction. Or in Capitol, where he was being watched so closely.
Arat probably wouldn't be lying there so peacefully if he had any idea Snake was attempting malicious amateur hairstyling, pick pocketing, etc.
Nick: Deah Tigue did tell me some intriguing stories about his years sharing the New Othwol Controllership with her, though.
Wise Snake: Oh?
Wise Snake looks genuinely curious despite herself.
Wise Snake was more or less cut off from information of this sort while in her cell, or while out of it for that matter.
Wise Snake, for all of her tough words, is actually tied in knots and still, after all this time, has no idea what to think about Arat either as her father or as her jailer.
Wise Snake chooses contempt and disbelief because it is easier than prying into some of the more painful truths.
Nick: He didn't just lock himself in the New Othwol Sime Center, the way he did in Capitol.
Wise Snake: Oh yeah?
Nick: He was on a fair way to running the town and surrounding countryside, before he was removed. And not as Controller, either.
Nick: From what I heard, he was in a fair way to recreating his grandparents' fiefdom, in a modernized form, of course.
Nick: Given another five years, and even the Tecton probably couldn't have budged him if he didn't care to leave.
Wise Snake: I hadn't figured him for that much ambition.
Wise Snake: Or guts. [adds]
Wise Snake: Now, he seems more like a pawn. A whining one.
Nick looks at the sleeping Arat speculatively.
Nick: I think he's lost, without New Othwol.
Nick: It's the only place he feels as if he belongs.
Wise Snake: Well, he doesn't belong here.
Wise Snake: Anyway, I'm off to do something productive.
Wise Snake: Enjoy Sleeping Beauty.
Nick nods, thinking that it's just as well if Snake isn't around when Arat wakes.
Wise Snake rises and slouches away, managing to give the impression that she has gotten away with rather a lot of what she'd come for.
Nick: Could you have some of those pancakes sent in for me?
Wise Snake is gone, and did not hear Nick.
Nick sighs, then replaces the pickpocketed items in Arat's pockets, where they belong.
Nick would rather not have to explain what they are doing elsewhere.
Nick is prepared to coddle Arat for a while, in hopes that he will adjust to his new location.
Nick goes back to waterproofing his boots, while changing his nageric sedation to nageric stimulation.
Nick knows that it's about time for Arat to wake up anyway, and is hoping to give him a chance to clean up and shower before the hordes descend.
Arat twitches faintly at the stimulation.
Nick notes the reaction with satisfaction, and starts waterproofing Arat's boots, as well.
Nick has a feeling that Arat will be requiring waterproof boots before much longer.
Arat could probably have remained sacked out for another 24 hours, given the opportunity to, but the nearby insistence of a fully awake Donor nager keeps dragging him a little farther upward.
Nick hums as he rubs the leather.
Nick keeps an eye on Arat, watching for further signs of life.
Arat begins to shift restlessly, eyes still closed.
Nick glances around the room, making sure that it is still clean, and that a clean uniform is clearly visible hanging on the closet door.
Nick placed it there hoping that it would prove reassuring when Arat woke.
Arat comes suddenly and violently awake, starting halfway up out of the bed with a sort of gasp.
Arat looks wildly about; he has the unshakable feeling that something nasty had been about to grab him in his sleep.
Nick reacts instantly to ~~ soothe ~~ Arat.
Nick just wishes he had more nager at the moment to soothe with.
Nick: Arat, it's all right.
Arat looks at Nick, and takes a moment to truly focus on him.
Arat then truly focuses on their surroundings, and his own physical condition.
Arat actually looks more horrified, although less wild.
Nick presents a peaceful picture, rubbing a boot.
Nick carefully wipes the waterproofing off of his hand, and lays it on Arat's arm.
Arat realizes he has just made a fool of himself, and looks down, attempting to get it together.
Arat also can't see as much of the room, that way.
Nick tries to give the impression that he doesn't think Arat is being foolish at all, while also conveying that there is no danger present.
Nick: The furnace is stoked--there's hot water for a shower, if you want one.
Arat: Yes.
Arat is not sure of a lot right at the moment, but of that there's no question.
Arat sees the clean, if wrinkled, uniform lying over the chair.
Nick has also availed himself of the shower, during his extended Arat-sitting.
Nick follows Arat's gaze.
Nick: I had your clothes cleaned. Your pack got a bit muddy.
Arat: Thank you.
Nick smiles, and his nager brightens with pleasure.
Nick believes in positive reinforcement, when channels express appreciation for their Donors' efforts.
Arat suddenly looks overwhelmed. He leans on Nick's pleasure nager rather than rising immediately.
Nick lets ~~ reassurance ~~ and ~~ confidence ~~ join the pleasure.
Nick's uniform isn't ironed, either, that being beyond the capabilities of the local launderers, but he looks more self-confident than he did back in Capitol.
Arat lifts his eyes and studies Nick with an unreadable expression, then turns to deliberately force himself to look at the room, its furniture, its walls.
Nick finds the rustic surroundings much more comfortable than the sterile Donor's quarters at Capitol, but not as nice as his apartment.
Nick has, however, spent enough time on the move to appreciate any roof that doesn't leak, at least not in the area he's occupying.
Arat finds it 100% alien, primitive and unclean and unlike any architecture he has spent time in in his adult memory.
Arat looks away from it, but of course there is nowhere he can look and not see some of it.
Arat keeps his eyes down as he rises to his feet and picks up the cleaned uniform.
Nick remains ~~ reassuring ~~, while trying to be at least somewhat subtle about it.
Nick doesn't think it will do Arat's self-confidence any good if he realizes that he's jumping at shadows.
Arat zlins about briefly, to locate the facilities. While he's at it, he gets far more than he intended of the vast open wilderness that had terrorized him on the trip up the mountainside. That, and the teeming brawling population surrounding them in the woods.
Nick nods encouragingly towards the facilities.
Nick: The shower has been stocked with Farris-safe soap and shampoo.
Nick has not had to replace them as often as one might think, due to Snake's avoidance of the room.
Arat shudders and firmly focus his attention upon the task at hand. He locates his things in the pack lying nearby and pushes out through the curtain, not without a backward glance at Nick and one or two almost undetectable hesitations.
Nick fetches a snack and eats while waiting for Arat to emerge from the shower.
Nick suspects that there will be no time for another meal for another ten hours or so.
Nick would not be in such a hurry to finish the meal if it were Riyyh in the shower, of course.
Arat returns a short time later, looking at least three times as stressed out as he did when he left.
Arat is, at least, relatively clean, and wearing the wrinkly clean uniform, and his hair is in a sopping wet towel.
Arat has just had the Shower from Hell.
Nick blinks, having hoped that the shower would have a calming effect.
Nick: Arat, what's wrong?
Nick: ~~ concern ~~
Arat's experience with gravity fed, pull-handle-to-release-water-from-tin-can style log cabin shower (not to mention the rough unfinished boards that lined the shower, complete with cracks thru which the forest and its human denizens could be seen) is approximately nil. Or it was, until now.
Arat: What isn't? [shortly]
Arat is clearly upset.
Nick falls back on another soothing ritual.
Nick: Would you like some tea?
Nick reaches for the pot of steaming Narosian and a cup.
Nick had, of course, laid in a good supply before coming.
Arat thrusts his things back into his bag, and then sits on the chair that had held his uniform (mainly because it is the only other chair in the room).
Arat: I don't know.
Arat is, at least, being honest.
Arat rubs his eyes.
Nick takes that as a "yes" and passes over a steaming cup.
Arat takes the cup, but simply clutches it in both hands instead of drinking.
Arat appears to be thinking deep and serious thoughts.
Arat is, in fact, trying to figure out what in the world he is doing here.
Nick: Do you want something to eat before you get started?
Nick is, of course, expecting an out-of-hand refusal.
Arat can't even begin to think about "getting started"... he's still trying to place himself on planet earth and in the context of relevant daily news.
Arat: I must think for a moment.
Arat: A few minutes. [amends]
Nick blinks at this unexpected reaction.
Nick had expected anything but this uncertainty.
Nick: Arat, what's wrong?
Nick: ~~ gentle caring ~~
Arat: This is... none of this is right.
Nick: It's not like New Othwol, or Capitol, true.
Arat gestures, unable to articulate just how without reference he is.
Nick: There are some things that are the same, though.
Nick: There are people who need transfers, and medical assistance.
Nick checks to see if the mention of work has struck a note.
Arat's sense of duty struggles to come on line in flagrant disregard for his current state of near-emotional breakdown.
Nick sees this and adds a bit of ~~ encouragement ~~.
Arat's internal disarray is made all the more surreal by Nick's obvious lack of comprehension of it.
Nick: Now that they're blasting, the selyn you brought in is even more critically needed.
Arat: The count. We require the count, first.
Arat forces himself to say it.
Arat desperately wants to take some time for himself, first, although he did promise Mr. Birch an estimate in three days, and it has already been two.
Nick notes that Arat is not jumping on the work, and isn't demanding reports and a staff briefing, either.
Nick starts to be a tad ~~ worried ~~.
Nick hasn't seen Arat so non-responsive while still ambulatory before.
Arat feels the familiar fist of personal responsibility clench in his chest, and takes a few deep breaths.
Nick does, however, remember quite clearly Snake's depression after they fled Bender Cove.
Nick goes over to Arat takes both his hands.
Arat's tea has somehow found its way onto a rude table nearby.
Nick: Arat, you can survive here. And succeed.
Arat stares at Nick, looking somewhat shocky.
Nick runs his hands over Arat's tentacles, hoping to steady him.
Arat: The estimate first, then a head count, and then the schedule.
Arat makes it sound like a prayer.
Arat in fact isn't sure, at this moment, that he can go through with any of it. But he knows he has no choice but to force himself to do it, whatever the cost.
Nick shakes his head.
Nick: First, we take care of that entran.
Nick: I'll do an outfunction, if you insist, but it would do you a lot more good to spend a few hours working.
Nick: It would give you a chance to see the situation, too.
Nick: Getting an accurate count of the people in the area is not going to be easy, if it's possible at all.
Nick's nager has just a hint of ~ apology ~
Arat is looking at least twice as stressed out as he was when he left the shower.
Arat's distress is visible as a sheen of sweat on his brow, and a nervous and quite uncharacteristic flicking of his tentacles.
Arat: It is, however, necessary to compiling a realistic schedule of selyn movement.
Nick puts a hand on the tentacles, ~~ seriously concerned ~~
Nick: That can be done, although any schedule will have to be modified as people move between camps, and as the demand for augmentation changes.
Arat looks at Nick sharply.
Nick: As long as we can maintain a reasonable safety margin, we should be all right.
Nick strokes the tentacles calmingly.
Arat has not spoken to a single person in weeks who seems to assume he can manage the selyn Controllership on the basis of his own expertise.
Arat finds Nick's telling him what to do even more unnerving than the uncertainty of his physical surroundings, and he is not sure why.
Arat takes another deep breath, striving for the discipline to ignore it, to ignore all of it.
Arat can wall out quite a bit of his surroundings, if he tries.
Arat: Nothing is certain without those numbers.
Arat: All of the reports I have heard contradict each other. Including, and especially, yours.
Arat pulls his hands out of Nick's and rises to pace in the room's narrow confines.
Nick sees the pacing as a step in the right direction, so to speak.
Arat can zlin the wilderness, and the seething horde of the numbers in question, press in on him. He tries to shake off the feeling.
Arat: The lack of transportation will be a help. I can probably make a fair estimation in a day if I can get to all of the highest points in the area.
Arat has little experience zlinning through deep woods, but makes the typically rash Farris assumption that he should be able to do it if he tries hard enough.
Arat: But that will only serve as the roughest of approximations.
Arat: There must be paper records of all of these people, if only a shorthand notation of each person's name, larity, and capacity or production level.
Arat: Otherwise, proper provision for all will be next to impossible.
Nick: We have been collecting such records, as we serve them. Of course, some augment and show up at a different camp, to take transfer under a different name.
Nick: In fact, quite a few refused to give a proper name at all.
Nick: Even so, the selyn shortage is more theoretical than real, at least for the moment.
Nick looks just a bit ashamed of himself.
Nick: It has been a very useful tool, however.
Arat frowns to himself; to keep records accurate enough to prevent such duplications would require fairly expert nager descriptions on the part of the census takers, and rigorous scanning of the data during its compilation.
Arat's frown deepens as Nick's other words sink in.
Arat: What?
Arat halts in his pacing and turns to look at him.
Nick essays a weak smile.
Nick: Since the story got out, augmenting in the camps has decreased significantly, as it is seen as a danger to the survival of the augmentor's fellow Simes.
Nick: Donations are up, as well.
Arat's eyes narrow. He is clearly extremely displeased.
Arat: Whose idea was that, and why was it not in the reports?
Nick: The reports are carried down by Scarabald--and I'm fairly sure he reads them, too.
Arat is not paralyzed by culture shock, though, at least temporarily.
Arat is aware that Nick has not answered either of his questions.
Arat: And? [impatiently]
Arat pulls the towel off his head and fetches his comb, now impatient to be ready to get to work.
Arat will have to wait at least a while, though; hard water and Farris hair do not a pretty combination make.
Nick: Arat. You've seen how easily the trail up the mountain gets washed out, even in relatively good weather. Do you really want us to be dependent for our selyn on channels who must take that trail when it's snowing?
Arat: Was the idea yours?
Nick: Mostly. Although Snake was a great help in developing it.
Arat's nostrils flare in what might have been a Snakely snort, except that Arat doesn't make crude utterances of the sort.
Nick: It's been even more helpful than I'd hoped.
Nick: Without it, it would have been much more difficult to convince Mr. Birch to take the unemployed seriously.
Arat: And I suppose you thought about the consequences of your actions, with regards to the reputation of myself, of the Tecton, and the safety of Gens in Sime Territory?
Arat: [acidly]
Arat: You have singlehandedly [he dismisses Snake's input as pure perversity, not without some justification] created incompetents of all of us in the eyes of those we must work closely with.
Nick looks from the comb to the mass of damp hair depending from Arat's head, wondering how Arat intends to subdue the riot with such inadequate forces
Arat catches Nick's glance, and begins hacking again. The truth is, Jeniard usually does this for him. He gets too frustrated if he does it himself.
Arat doesn't have time to wait for Jeniard's return, though. They can get their schedules in sync in time for next time.
Arat: Regaining the trust of Mr. Birch is not going to be an easy task.
Nick: The crisis I made up, might well have become frighteningly real by now, if the rumors of it hadn't spurred appropriate action.
Nick winces at the hacking, then takes the comb from Arat's hands and begins to work it through the snarls in a proper fashion.
Arat: And how can you know that, without accurate....
Arat pauses, as Nick takes the comb.
Arat decides that it isn't worth fighting about, and continues.
Arat: ... without accurate numbers?
Nick: I don't think we ever really lost Mr. Birch's trust. He was annoyed at having to deal with another problem, but he treated it much as he does any supply problem.
Arat stands fuming as Nick tends to his, er, mane.
Arat thinks it is just as well Nick wasn't around to hear Mr. Birch's lack of confidence in Arat for himself; Arat wanted as few witnesses as possible for that.
Arat in arriving here feels like a replacement stagecoach driver who expected to be handed the reins and found them instead dragged between the feet of the galloping horses.
Nick: If the rumors aren't confirmed, everyone will assume that it was your handling of the situation that solved the crisis.
Nick might perhaps be a bit naive about the longevity of rumors--and him 75% Narosian, too!
Arat finds his fury fanned by Nick's innocent, if disastrously long-reaching, political fumbling.
Arat carefully takes a deep breath, trying once again for control.
Arat does not need either Beni or Nick angry with him, not now.
Nick works a particularly nasty rat's-nest out of the mane.
Arat: [and not just because Nick has him by the hair, either]
Arat: Please do not implement any more such schemes without clearing them with me first. [says finally, his voice controlled]
Arat hopes that the term "such schemes" will be taken to encompass anything of any nature that could reduce Arat to this helpless fury.
Nick: Of course I won't, now that you're here.
Nick had, after all, carefully consulted Snake, as the ranking channel, before implementing his plan.
Arat: I planned for 8000 augmenting Simes and 4000 non-augmenting, as well as a larger-than-expected number of working Gens.
Arat: If there is a shortage regardless, even given Mr. Birch's figure of only 2500 payrolled augmenting Simes, then there is a much more serious problem with drifters and hopefuls than originally estimated.
Arat means, by a factor of three or four at least.
Arat: It is imperative that this question be resolved, and as soon as possible.
Nick: I don't think anyone expected so many people to show up, and they're still coming.
Arat: I have already taken measures to stop that, but it will be some time before the last of them make it this far.
Arat had the publicity people he'd hired in Capitol go all-out on pushing articles about the employee glut in all the popular periodicals.
Arat's difficulty is that it takes people two months to walk to the Dam site from some parts of Sime Territory, and the stories only started getting published four weeks ago.
Nick: Even when they try to conserve selyn, most of the people here are still living in tents. In weather like this, they'll burn extra selyn just to keep warm.
Nick: The rain has stopped, though, so that should improve.
Arat knows, of course, that the illiterate and the desperate will continue to pass on the "word about the free jobs" via gossip long after the literate and the sensible will have forgotten about them.
Arat: The transportation should begin as soon as possible.
Arat: If we are dealing with the sorts of numbers I fear we are, shedding them will be extremely important.
Arat: Most of the Gens I zlinned riding in were severely malnourished. The sanitation conditions here are deplorable, and there is an ambient of desperation that can be zlinned halfway down the mountain.
Arat means, by a Farris. Of course.
Nick is well used to thinking in terms of Farris sensitivity.
Arat: Not a single caravan should go back down that mountain empty, they should all be bringing people for return to their homes.
Nick hadn't noticed a large number of volunteers to leave.
Arat: The cost the train tickets to the Tecton is nothing compared to the cost of maintaining non-taxpayers in selyn indefinitely.
Arat isn't talking about volunteers, precisely. He's talking about enforced marches.
Nick: Most of them have no place to go, or they would have stayed there in the first place.
Nick smiles wryly.
Arat: They cannot stay here.
Arat: There is no way to feed the number of Gens here now, using the transport available. It is logistically impossible.
Nick can only ~~ agree ~~ with that.
Arat: Unless aid were sent directly from innermost Gen Territory by train and shipped across the Reservoir.
Arat: That still does not answer the issues of their illegal status, their inexperience around Simes, and then there is the matter of the extra Simes.
Arat: We absolutely cannot fall short on selyn, even in winter as you pointed out.
Arat: If there is no balance, there can be no safe scheduling solution.
Nick: Yes. Any many of the extra Simes are unsuitable for employment, here or anywhere.
Nick: That's one good thing about the bad weather: we've had fewer new arrivals in the past week.
Arat: Wanting to extract selyn from Gen settlements along the Reservoir is a sound one, in fact it is included in my initial plan. However, it was unforgivably rash to demand that Mr. Birch and company arrange for it.
Arat: Not even considering the means by which you chose to make that demand.
Arat: It is fortunate that he did not create an interterritorial incident.
Arat does not know that much about construction workers, but he does know that they have their own peculiar form of diplomacy that often does not go over well with outsiders.
Nick looks more than a little hang-dog.
Nick had figured that Arat would disapprove of the deception aspect of his plan, but had hoped to make up for it at least partly by its success.
Nick had not realized exactly everything it would succeed in doing, of course.
Arat sighs.
Arat's anger begins to lose its momentum as 1) Nick seems to be genuinely contrite, and 2) it is difficult to be truly angry at somebody who is massaging his head and untangling what would take him hours to do himself -- if he succeeded at all.
Nick cleans a wad of snarl off the comb, then runs it through the still-damp hair once more.
Nick: There, I think that does it.
Arat locates the tie that is used to restrain the braid, which he'd stashed in one of his pockets.
Arat is unaware that the real reason he keeps his hair long and in a braid is to reduce the stereotypical Farrisness of his appearance. That is a psychological can of worms he has never opened with himself, probably for the better.
Arat had cut it once, shortly after his identification as a Farris, to reinforce the connection in other people's minds... and then allowed it to grow again without ever examining why.
Go on to Episode #19: Slumming It
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