Chapter 30: Chapter 30

The next morning, Joy wakes my mom up. She lends her another outfit, this time it’s blue cutoffs and a black tunic. My mom keeps her Perfect soldier boots on.

They head to the dining tunnel, where the young men and women eat together. Joy explains that the families eat together in their houses.

My mom spots the Japanese soldiers eating at a long table with many other young men. “Those are the Resistant soldiers,” Joy tells her when she asks who they are.

“They’re trained from childhood because they’re healthier. They fight to protect us. They have a high status in the Resistance. But they only marry the healthiest girls, of course.”

Joy shrugs and smiles at my mom. After breakfast, Joy takes my mom to the farming tunnel. The tunnel is brightly lit. There are two large chambers at the end of it.

My mom is breathless as she takes them in. In the first chamber are animals. Chickens, geese, ducks, pigs. Creatures that my mom has never even heard of.

She watches them move, eat, make noises. They’re alive. It’s the first time in my mom’s life that she’s ever seen anything other than a human alive.

“We also farm crabs, crayfish, and fish, but that’s in a lower tunnel,” Joy tells my mom. She just stares back at her wide-eyed, not understanding her words.

The people working on the farm look at my mom curiously. In the next chamber are the fields.

My mom has seen these before. In pictures of before the Great War, Albion was covered in fields of food, rich before it was attacked and destroyed by Foreigners.

But my mom never dreamed of seeing fields in her lifetime. The chamber is larger than the main room. It’s full, from one side to the other.

Wheat, corn, cotton fields line one side. Grapevines grow against one wall.

Then food my mom can recognize: carrots, potatoes, mushrooms, parsnips, radishes, blueberries, cranberries, strawberries, raspberries, tomatoes, and red currants fill another corner of the large chamber.

It’s brightly lit by mirrors on the ceiling, and little streams of water run through the fields and gardens. My mom stands in awe, gaping.

An older woman who had been working in the fruit garden approaches my mom with a strawberry. My mom eats it gratefully, and the woman smiles at her warmly.

“There’s a rice field too, but again in a lower tunnel. It needs more water, you see,” Joy says.

“Pretty soon we’ll have to harvest the corn. During the harvest, everyone comes to work here. This is our whole society’s food source, so we can never let any of our food go to waste,” she explains.

My mom nods in agreement. Next, she’s taken to the factories. They’re dug deep below the rest of the tunnels. Sounds of people’s voices, banging metal, screeching machines, and churning water echo up to my mom.

“The factories are deep because they’re so loud,” Joy tells my mom. “It’s dangerous for us to have them too close to the surface. We wouldn’t want the Perfects to hear, you understand of course.”

My mom nods. “How many factories do you have?” she asks. “Three,” Joy answers.

“One for weapons. Down there.” My mom peers down the long tunnel. She can smell the familiar scent of welding. “A clothes factory; it takes the cotton from the fields and turns it into clothes.

“And the furniture factory down that way. But they all help each other and work together to make everything we need. Most people in Resistance work down here.

“We have exhaust pipes going up all over town so we don’t intoxicate ourselves, and luckily, since Albion is constantly on fire, the Perfects don’t notice a little more smoke.” Joy nods once, then guides my mom out.

They return to the main hall. “I have to go to work now. I work in the school. The mayor wanted to meet with you. It’s standard procedure to get you a job and a position in Resistance.

“His office is in the military tunnel. That one. It’s way at the end, past the training hall. I’ll meet you in the dining hall for lunch,” Joy tells my mom before giving her a grin and walking off.

***

I head toward the military tunnel. It’s the biggest and brightest tunnel yet. It was clearly already big before the Great War, but the Resistants have kept it intact.

It’s a short tunnel that quickly opens into a series of winding tunnels. One leads to the military dormitory. Peering inside, I see the beds are perfectly aligned and identical, like in the girl’s dormitory.

It’s bigger though, and there are columns separating groups of beds. I even notice a hangar of sorts with a few more beds.

Moving farther down the tunnel, I come across what I assume is the training hall. I look at it in wonder. It’s by far the largest room I’ve come across so far. The ceiling is so high I think it might break through the surface.

It has a circular shape, with tightly packed dirt walls and a vaulted ceiling. In the center is the training court, which appears equipped to train at least twenty different things at the same time.

There’s a running track and an obstacle course with ladders, ropes, walls to leap over, and nets to crawl under. There’s even an archery court, I notice, though there are only a few bows hanging up and fewer arrows.

The walls of the court are lined with various weapons, from guns to spears to grenades, organized on shelves.

Many are either Foreigner weapons or Perfect weapons. Very few seem to have been constructed by the Resistants.

The court ends, but a small tunnel disappears into darkness on the other side of the room. Near its entrance is a small set of wooden bleachers set up to face the training court.

Despite the size of the bleachers, that’s where most of the soldiers seem to be. They wear gray uniforms, darker than the Perfects’, with baggy pants and tighter shirts.

I notice the Japanese soldiers among them, back to wearing their black wrapped shirts and cotton belts tied around their hips.

The soldiers seem to be busy discussing the Japanese soldiers’ excursion, so I move on quickly.

The mayor's office is at the end of the tunnel, making it easy to find. A soldier stands guard outside the door. He gives me a long look before slipping inside to announce my arrival.

When he reappears, he holds the door open for me and then shuts it once I'm inside. The office is a large rectangle, with the Mayor seated in front of a book-laden shelf.

Behind him, two guns, a Perfect soldier uniform, and a gas mask hang on the wall as decoration. An old wooden desk, clearly a relic from before the war, sits in the center of the room.

Mayor Richardson is seated behind the desk in a large, overstuffed chair. His dark hair is slicked back and his beard is braided into three strands, then woven together. He's wearing a bright-purple shirt.

“Miss Alex,” he greets, standing up and flashing a brilliant smile as I enter. He's tall, towering over me as he shakes my hand and guides me to the small chair across from his desk. “Can I get you something to drink?”

He settles back into his chair, still smiling, even as I decline his offer.

“You wanted to see me?” I ask.

“Yes.” He folds his hands and leans toward me over the desk. “I'm glad you're here in Resistance. But as you've probably noticed, everyone here has a role to play.

“Everyone has a job, and that's what keeps our society functioning. I want to help you find the right job for you here in Resistance. That way, you can start to accumulate belongings and begin your new life as a Resistant.”

“I'm sorry, but I'm not familiar with the idea of acquiring or accumulating things,” I admit.

He gives me a sweet smile. “Of course, I should have realized. You're the first Perfect we've had here in generations.

“Most of our newcomers are foreign soldiers or from other Resistance cities. It must be tough for you to adjust to this kind of life. Everything is shared among the Perfects, isn't it?”

I nod. “Yes. All our work is for Albion. We don't own anything. We pass down our clothes, the weapons we make are sent to war. We don't need to own things.”

“Things work differently here. We work, we trade, we accumulate. So, we need to find you a job, my dear.”

“What kind of job?”

“I was thinking you could join the cleaning squads. As you can imagine, there's a lot of cleaning to do in Resistance.”

“I could work in the factories,” I suggest. “I'm good at making weapons. I'm very organized.”

“That work is reserved for our more experienced citizens.”

“I have a lot of experience in weapon construction. I've been doing it my whole life,” I argue.

The mayor purses his lips. “I'm sure, but I'm afraid there isn't a place for you in our weapon factory.”

“What about with the children? I like children. I helped out a lot with the children at my school,” I offer.

The mayor gives me a sweet smile. “You don't have the right education to teach our children,” he says gently. “But there's a place for you in the cleaning squad.”

“I can clean,” I concede. “But I'm good at other things too. I'm good at archery. Could I join your army?”

He blinks at me, then chuckles. “My dear girl. The army is for the men of the Resistance. They were chosen when they were boys. It's no place for someone as delicate as you,” he scoffs.

“I'm not delicate,” I retort. “I can handle blood and death. And I'm very good with a bow. I'm sure I'd be good with a gun too,” I argue.

The mayor chuckles and shakes his head. “It's not a place for you.”

“But I've been out there. I know what it's like. I survived despite everything. I'm healthier than all of your men. I could be a valuable asset to Resistance and the Resistant army,” I insist.

Mayor Richardson frowns at me. “Alex.” He leans toward me slowly. “We can't have a Perfect in our army. And it's not about gender. I'd say the same to a male Perfect.

“We'll put you in cleaning, and if you're not happy there, maybe we can find you something else. But you have to do something. We don't let people wander around aimlessly in Resistance.”

“Of course,” I murmur.

“Good. Joy will take you to work tomorrow morning. You can have the rest of the day off.”

He stands, and I quickly follow suit. We shake hands, and he beams at me. Then he shows me to the door.