The Brave New World - 154 The Lonely Leader

No one had challenged him on his way home, although a couple of times he saw heads turn and felt many eyes following his progress as he pedaled furiously, making the bicycle go so fast he actually overtook an ancient, farting scooter. He told himself that only the people waiting at the entrance to the colonial office knew his backpack was full of implant kits, but it didn’t help much.

Implant kits were destined to become very, very precious. The size of the crowd at the colonial office convinced Samir of that. There had been several hundred people there. Samir was sure that without the soldiers being present, they’d have thrown themselves at him and knocked him off his bike and robbed him.

He felt very relieved when he finally turned onto the path that led to the front door of his house. It had seen plenty of traffic recently, and was rapidly turning into mud. He had to get it paved – maybe he could ask the men working on his house to help with that?

But the workmen had other ideas. When Samir entered the house, they were standing around the unfinished staircase in a moody silence. The eyes that met Samir’s were full of grievance.

“What’s the matter?” he asked right away.

The foreman took a step forward, and said:

“We have run out of blocks. We cannot finish the staircase.”

“Can’t you get more?”

“We can, but concrete blocks are very heavy. And we have no transport.”

“Ask Mr Leduc to provide some. He told me he would provide your transport.”

“There is no free transport at the supermarket. They are very busy. It’s their first day of normal business after a long break. They’re very busy.”

“I heard that the first time around,” snapped Samir. “It doesn’t make sense. What’s stopping you from borrowing a couple of carts for a few hours?”

“They’re all very busy.”

“The carts are busy? The donkeys are busy?”

“Yes.”

Samir laughed. It was a short, bitter laugh, the kind of laughter that follows an unpleasant discovery.

“All right,” he said. “What do you want to get this done?”

The workmen all fell into silent contemplation. Finally the foreman said:

“We will need to hire transport.”

“Can you do that?”

“We will have to pay.”

“You mean I’ll have to pay,” said Samir. “All right. I’m listening.”

“I think ten kilos of smoked meat,” said the foreman. His men murmured in approval, and he added:

“And maybe another ten of greens and fruit.”

“What makes you think I’ve got smoked meat?”

“We could smell it.”

“That’s all gone. We’ve sold it. We hardly ate any ourselves.”

“Then you should get some more,” said the foreman. There was another murmur of approval.

“Come with me,” he said, and led him to the storeroom. It was the room across from the one he used to share with Rani. Used to, because presently it acted as the communal kitchen and dining room. Samir and Rani slept in the storeroom; they’d moved the launch pad in Kulaba so that goods sent from there arrived in the far corner of the room.

Rani and Samir slept under the room’s biggest, double window: even then, sometimes they found it hard to fall asleep because of the intense smell of all the food gathered in the room. It was strong enough to make the foreman stagger when he stepped inside.

“You see?” said Samir. “Half a basket of mangoes, two baskets of greens, and some saltfish. That’s all we have right now.”

“You forgot about the air potatoes,” said the foreman, pointing.

“And you forgot that I already paid you with food for the whole week. Including tomorrow and Sunday.”

“I need the food to hire an ox cart,” said the foreman cunningly. “I don’t need it for myself.”

“I see. And the cart’s owner told you he wanted smoked meat?”

“Yes.”

It was such a stupid, brazen lie that Samir was speechless for a moment. But there was nothing he could do. Accusing the foreman of lying would only result in his acting offended, and refusing to cooperate. And Samir needed him to cooperate. He needed everyone to cooperate.

He felt very alone when he realized that. Even Rani seemed to be in the other camp.

“All right,” he said to the foreman. “Take ten kilos of greens and air potatoes as initial payment, and I’ll make sure to have the meat by the time you’ve brought the blocks in. Agreed?”

It was, after some haggling that substituted a kilo of greens for saltfish.

Having dealt with that problem, Samir tackled another. He went to talk to Madan. The room Madan shared with Kali had a freshly installed door, and Samir saw that it was hung crooked. He would have to get the workers to fix that, and they would likely have more demands.

Repeated knocking on the door produced no result, so Samir pushed it open and saw that both Madan and Kali were fast asleep. He shook Madan’s shoulder, then shook it again. On the third attempt, Madan finally opened his eyes.

“We have to talk,” Samir told him. “Join me in the room when you’re ready.”

‘The room’ meant the communal kitchen and dining room. It had automatically become the headquarters of the whole enterprise, thus confirming the old truth that most new ventures are launched around the kitchen table.

While he was waiting for Madan, Samir quickly ate some cold rice with chutney and – after a short hesitation – a strip of smoked antelope meat from the wicker box at the very back of the kitchen larder. He was brewing a pot of tea when Madan entered, drops of water from his wake-up wash glistening on his forehead.

To Samir’s surprise, Madan seemed to be in an excellent mood: recent experiences had made Samir expect fresh problems everywhere he looked. It turned out Madan had a very good reason for his high spirits.

“I am proud to tell you, my friend, that we now have metal tools in Kulaba,” he announced right away. “We have a bronze hammer, and two bronze knives. I am working on a pair of tongs. And Neil has brought in another antelope. That boy is an excellent hunter.”

“That’s good,” Samir said. “I need ten kilos of smoked meat right away.” And he told Madan about the workers’ ultimatum. He didn’t get any sympathy; Madan pooh-poohed his difficulties.

“Don’t worry about anything, my friend, everything will work out fine,” he declared. Samir shot him a suspicious glance. He had found out in the meantime that Madan was fond of smoking a little hashish from time to time, and had brought a small supply with him when he moved from Khalapur.

“Are you high?” he asked. Madan immediately became offended.

“I am not high,” he said. “I only smoke a little in the evening. You have no idea how wonderful it is to work with metal tools. We are going to make fantastic progress from now on.”

“Hopefully, by the end of the year we’ll enter Iron Age.”

“There’s no need for sarcasm,” Madan said stiffly. “We’ve taken a great step forward.”

Samir nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “From stone to bronze – it’s more than a step, it’s a leap. What about the huts for Varma and his soldiers?”

“We haven’t completed any yet. We were too busy with food.”

“They’re arriving today. They’ll be here by the evening.”

“They’re soldiers,” Madan said. “They’re tough. They’ll survive sleeping out in the open for a few nights.”

“I hope so,” Samir said. “Listen, I have to go to the town hall. I need you to stay awake, and supervise everything here while I’m gone. Can you do that?”

“Why do you have to go to the town hall?”

“To get the certificate for our mint. It’s time it became operational.”

“Good move,” agreed Madan. “I’ve minted a couple of coins in Kulaba. Well not really coins, just discs of metal. It was just an experiment to see what’s involved. I made a couple of rough clay dies. But they both fell apart after making a single copper coin. I need to make proper dies, from hard-baked clay. It will take a while.”

“I still want to get that certificate today.”

“You should go and talk to that neighbor of yours, Sunil, before you go.”

“Why?”

“He was here this morning. He was upset you were away. He said you promised him implants for his whole family today. They are all waiting to join us in Kulaba.”

“Well, they’ll have to wait a little more. I’ll see him when I get back from the town hall. Tell him that if he comes around again.”

“There’s one other thing,” Madan said, suddenly becoming grave. Samir felt like groaning out loud. He had already started to hope he would get away without being confronted by another problem.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“Neil says there are other people, other settlers around Kulaba. He says he came across an old campsite.”

“Did he go to the valley where we found the dead girl?”

“No, no. That’s much too far away. He went to the place where the antelopes graze. It’s just a few hours’ fast walk from Kulaba. He didn’t see any antelopes so he went a little further and he came across signs that a couple of people had been there recently. That’s what he says.”

“What signs?”

“A campsite. He says he saw the remains of a fire, and a couple of spots had been cleared for laying down. And he came across some human shit nearby. He says it was no more than a couple of days old.”

Samir’s mouth went dry. He tried to swallow, and couldn’t. Madan reached out and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It was bound to happen sooner or later, my friend,” he said. “It was bound to happen.”

Samir looked at him, nodded gloomily, and said:

“When I was at the colonial office, I found out there will be forty colonies in our district. And from what I saw, there will also be hundreds or thousands of free colonists, all looking for food.”

Madan patted his shoulder.

“Go,” he said. “Go and take care of that business at the town hall, and return as soon as you can. I’ll keep an eye on things here in the meantime.”

Samir was on the point of leaving when he was struck by a new thought. He stopped in front of the door and turned around and said:

“Madan?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have enough bronze to make a few weapons?”

Madan narrowed his eyes, and looked away from Samir.

“I was planning to make a few tools first,” he said. “Shovels, hoes, a pick, some proper fish hooks. But I can probably make a couple of ax heads first. We need axes anyway, and they can be used as weapons.”

He faced Samir again, and Samir saw that Madan was really distressed.

“Is it really necessary, Samir?” he asked. “Does meeting other people have to be bad? Maybe they’ll be nice people. Maybe some will want to join us, in our colony.”

“Maybe we don’t want that,” Samir said. “We have up to sixteen new colonists joining us by Sunday. Sergeant Varma and seven of his men. And I told him to make sure every man has a woman.”

Madan didn’t respond, and his silence was making Samir feel bad. He said abruptly:

“I’ll try to be back fast. We’ll talk more when I return.”

He felt very alone when he left the room, and shut the door behind him with more force than was necessary.

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