Post by Floyd Looney on Jul 3, 2010 1:13:09 GMT -5
He was held in a private prison until arrangements were made for his exit from Roma, it was less than a week but it felt like forever. All he could think about the entire time was his son and his wife crying. He hadn’t seen her cry before the entire time he knew her. He would never be able to forget that.
Finally he was placed aboard a shuttle and arrived aboard a cargo vessel flagged out of a colony world York-III called the Knickerbocker. They had delivered electronic goods and computer components that were not made on Roma and loaded up on unfinished goods such as cloth, marble and gold as well as wines and such.
They shut him into a tiny compartment with a bunk and a bathroom barely big enough to sit in and locked the door. The door was to remain locked until the vessel officially exited the solar system. The tiny porthole showed Athena, the red moon of Roma, its reflected light filled his cabin. It fit his mood.
Soon enough the vessel was underway and the door was unlocked. The vessel did not have a lot of places he could go anyway but being able to walk and stretch his legs was an improvement. He found the small dining room and learned the meals were all prepackaged, something he hadn’t seen on Roma. Only the poor would buy packaged meals that had a long shelf life in his limited experience.
It didn’t taste very good to him but he was determined to finish and he could not count on there always being a meal around when he was hungry.
There were two more planets being visited on this trip and neither one of them sounded particularly inviting. Ummah was a world colonized by the Caliphate: a radical Islamic sect that had been driven from Earth after an 18 year war of domination. If he was left there he would be forced into a life of servitude as a dhimmi, a subjugated infidel with no rights at all.
If there was one world that was more of an outcast than Roma then Ummah was it.
Of the two Greyson had chosen the world called Rocinha that had four separate continents that had been colonized by desperately poor folk during the Earth evacuation, the dumping ground of humanity. The people who were unwanted even as refugees because they were impoverished, had no skills and many had no education.
The four continents were each governed separately. Dharavi had been colonized from the Indian subcontinent. Orangi was really more of a large island and was settled mostly by Indo-Chinese and Pakistani. Ajegunle was populated mostly by people from Africa. The other continent was named Rocinha like the planet but its largest “city” if it can be called that was called Heliopolis.
Heliopolis was his destination because, while it was little more than a shanty town, it was the most developed, free and livable place on Rocinha. Heliopolis was spread out widely, with ocean front beaches where many fishing boats and drying nets could be found, south of it there were rice fields. They were at least moving in the right direction, in fits and starts if nothing else.
The major three languages in Heliopolis were Portuguese, Spanish and English Common, in that order. Greyson figured he could survive in such a place even if he could not thrive. From the limited information aboard the Knickerbocker he tried to discern a path through such a society but it all seemed so disorganized.
The cargo shuttle landed in a field that was hardly fit to be called a space port; beyond the fence one could see the shabby houses and dirt roads while inside the fence was hardly better. The crew met with local business contacts, Greyson was shunted away. They had done their job and they had nothing more to offer him.
He found himself on a wide dirt street jostled by the locals who crowded it; apparently this was one of the main thoroughfares. The people were dirty, barefoot and thin. He could see there were local “shops” but these turned his stomach. He was going to have to get used to this, somehow.
With another bit of culture shock he noted that many in the crowd were women and he saw none of them unclothed although there was the occasional naked child. The clothes had been vibrant in color once, before they were dirty. He could make out reds, oranges, yellows and greens, even purple- a color of robe reserved for Senators and the Consul himself on Roma.
Greyson watched as a man charged handhelds with a vehicle battery using naked copper wires and then collect a few coins. There was no shortage of customers for this man. That is when he noticed the communication towers that interspersed the massive slum.
Someone was producing the plywood and the plastic tarpaulins; this meant there was a rudimentary economy here. There were public water sources at almost regular intervals right at the side of the street. Someone planned and organized that. It might have been built originally a couple of generations ago but someone has been maintaining it.
This told Greyson that the local government was at least minimally effective even if did not do much else. Government House, as the locals called it, was not far from the space port and it was just as unimpressive. At three stories it was the tallest dwelling to be found that he could see, but its walls were cracked and chipped, some of the windows were boarded over.
There was another government building not far away but this one was surrounded by high walls and the gate was guarded by armed troops. This building housed the continental government, assembly hall, the treasury and broadcasting facilities. The top of the wall was protected by electrified razor wire. There was no telling whether there was any current running through it or whether that was saved for emergencies.
Greyson needed work. After asking several people he was pointed toward what turned out to be a missionary center. These missionaries didn’t hand out bowls of food and preach at you while you ate instead they offered you work for the bowl and then invited you to hear the preaching, voluntarily.
“I am a refugee, newly arrived. I have nothing, is there work here?” he asked the small woman who answered the door. She was short and gray-haired and wore a brown dress down to her ankles. The woman seemed to take his measure. His white skin would peg him as anything but the usual refugee in an instant.
“We take all kinds” she said “We turn away no-one but the ones who embrace evil”.
He followed her inside and walked from the 14th century into the 19th. She explained that their mission employed thousands of people who labored building brick walls, kilns, granaries, schools, public baths and many other things.
“We pay a pittance, of course” she told him “But that is more than anyone else is paying, if there is anyone else with a job”.
Their laborers also received a midday meal of porridge, beans or rice as part of their compensation. The mission, he learned, also operated a school where they taught the basics of math, reading and writing.
Since the work day was nearly over they set Greyson to mopping the floor of their missionary building. This would get him a meal and a cot in the barn where they kept a few horses, cows and goats, tomorrow he would work with the rest of the laborers.
It was grueling, back-breaking work. They had given him a pick-axe to break up some rocky ground where they were digging the foundation of a trade school. A place they could teach things like plumbing, electrical work and the like. It looked to Greyson as if this place hadn’t changed much in more than forty years when he saw that the small concrete mixers were pulled by oxen.
Within days he had found a spot and built his own clapboard shanty house, which only meant it had four walls and a ceiling of plywood nailed to four wooden posts. The door was held to a slight frame by three ropes. He was actually proud of it, that it came from his own hands. He threw his mattress inside and it was home.
He knew where the nearest public water faucet was, he knew well the nearest latrine – you can’t miss it, just follow the smell. He knew the best places to buy vegetables that weren’t rotting and he was learning the best places to get an alcoholic drink but not by choice. He had been deputized to find laborers that had wandered off the reservation by drinking their meager wages, their families were furious when this happened.
Greyson knew that the missionaries had decided he was more than a common laborer because he was educated and determined. Some of these locals would work a day or two and then vanish for another two days and return penniless again.
Then there were the ones with mouths to feed who went off drinking, this was a serious thing and when the families complained the mission may have to deny a man work until his claims of conversions were believed.
During one night this happened, rousted out of bed to search for a missing laborer. This was one of the guys he knew. Raul Patel wasn’t usually the kind of man who would vanish and leave his kids behind without food. This kind of existence could break anyone, Greyson told himself as he went from one awful location to the next.
Some of the swill that was made and served was barely drinkable, much of it was likely poisonous. After checking in several of the nearest places he got the idea that Raul might have sought out something better and made his way to the only bar he knew that had a name attached to it.
The Clutching Rooster was closer to the space port than to the home of Raul Patel but it was always worth a try. If Raul had gotten the notion he could hang out with those better off than his dirty self he would come here. Still for a “higher class” establishment it would have been rejected back in Ostia and burned as a health hazard.
As soon as he walked in something felt wrong. Before he could turn around four hands grabbed his arms and something was pulled down over his head. He was trying to object when something hit him upside the head and his body went weak.
“That is him, where is my money?” he heard the voice of Raul Patel say before passing out.
Finally he was placed aboard a shuttle and arrived aboard a cargo vessel flagged out of a colony world York-III called the Knickerbocker. They had delivered electronic goods and computer components that were not made on Roma and loaded up on unfinished goods such as cloth, marble and gold as well as wines and such.
They shut him into a tiny compartment with a bunk and a bathroom barely big enough to sit in and locked the door. The door was to remain locked until the vessel officially exited the solar system. The tiny porthole showed Athena, the red moon of Roma, its reflected light filled his cabin. It fit his mood.
Soon enough the vessel was underway and the door was unlocked. The vessel did not have a lot of places he could go anyway but being able to walk and stretch his legs was an improvement. He found the small dining room and learned the meals were all prepackaged, something he hadn’t seen on Roma. Only the poor would buy packaged meals that had a long shelf life in his limited experience.
It didn’t taste very good to him but he was determined to finish and he could not count on there always being a meal around when he was hungry.
There were two more planets being visited on this trip and neither one of them sounded particularly inviting. Ummah was a world colonized by the Caliphate: a radical Islamic sect that had been driven from Earth after an 18 year war of domination. If he was left there he would be forced into a life of servitude as a dhimmi, a subjugated infidel with no rights at all.
If there was one world that was more of an outcast than Roma then Ummah was it.
Of the two Greyson had chosen the world called Rocinha that had four separate continents that had been colonized by desperately poor folk during the Earth evacuation, the dumping ground of humanity. The people who were unwanted even as refugees because they were impoverished, had no skills and many had no education.
The four continents were each governed separately. Dharavi had been colonized from the Indian subcontinent. Orangi was really more of a large island and was settled mostly by Indo-Chinese and Pakistani. Ajegunle was populated mostly by people from Africa. The other continent was named Rocinha like the planet but its largest “city” if it can be called that was called Heliopolis.
Heliopolis was his destination because, while it was little more than a shanty town, it was the most developed, free and livable place on Rocinha. Heliopolis was spread out widely, with ocean front beaches where many fishing boats and drying nets could be found, south of it there were rice fields. They were at least moving in the right direction, in fits and starts if nothing else.
The major three languages in Heliopolis were Portuguese, Spanish and English Common, in that order. Greyson figured he could survive in such a place even if he could not thrive. From the limited information aboard the Knickerbocker he tried to discern a path through such a society but it all seemed so disorganized.
The cargo shuttle landed in a field that was hardly fit to be called a space port; beyond the fence one could see the shabby houses and dirt roads while inside the fence was hardly better. The crew met with local business contacts, Greyson was shunted away. They had done their job and they had nothing more to offer him.
He found himself on a wide dirt street jostled by the locals who crowded it; apparently this was one of the main thoroughfares. The people were dirty, barefoot and thin. He could see there were local “shops” but these turned his stomach. He was going to have to get used to this, somehow.
With another bit of culture shock he noted that many in the crowd were women and he saw none of them unclothed although there was the occasional naked child. The clothes had been vibrant in color once, before they were dirty. He could make out reds, oranges, yellows and greens, even purple- a color of robe reserved for Senators and the Consul himself on Roma.
Greyson watched as a man charged handhelds with a vehicle battery using naked copper wires and then collect a few coins. There was no shortage of customers for this man. That is when he noticed the communication towers that interspersed the massive slum.
Someone was producing the plywood and the plastic tarpaulins; this meant there was a rudimentary economy here. There were public water sources at almost regular intervals right at the side of the street. Someone planned and organized that. It might have been built originally a couple of generations ago but someone has been maintaining it.
This told Greyson that the local government was at least minimally effective even if did not do much else. Government House, as the locals called it, was not far from the space port and it was just as unimpressive. At three stories it was the tallest dwelling to be found that he could see, but its walls were cracked and chipped, some of the windows were boarded over.
There was another government building not far away but this one was surrounded by high walls and the gate was guarded by armed troops. This building housed the continental government, assembly hall, the treasury and broadcasting facilities. The top of the wall was protected by electrified razor wire. There was no telling whether there was any current running through it or whether that was saved for emergencies.
Greyson needed work. After asking several people he was pointed toward what turned out to be a missionary center. These missionaries didn’t hand out bowls of food and preach at you while you ate instead they offered you work for the bowl and then invited you to hear the preaching, voluntarily.
“I am a refugee, newly arrived. I have nothing, is there work here?” he asked the small woman who answered the door. She was short and gray-haired and wore a brown dress down to her ankles. The woman seemed to take his measure. His white skin would peg him as anything but the usual refugee in an instant.
“We take all kinds” she said “We turn away no-one but the ones who embrace evil”.
He followed her inside and walked from the 14th century into the 19th. She explained that their mission employed thousands of people who labored building brick walls, kilns, granaries, schools, public baths and many other things.
“We pay a pittance, of course” she told him “But that is more than anyone else is paying, if there is anyone else with a job”.
Their laborers also received a midday meal of porridge, beans or rice as part of their compensation. The mission, he learned, also operated a school where they taught the basics of math, reading and writing.
Since the work day was nearly over they set Greyson to mopping the floor of their missionary building. This would get him a meal and a cot in the barn where they kept a few horses, cows and goats, tomorrow he would work with the rest of the laborers.
It was grueling, back-breaking work. They had given him a pick-axe to break up some rocky ground where they were digging the foundation of a trade school. A place they could teach things like plumbing, electrical work and the like. It looked to Greyson as if this place hadn’t changed much in more than forty years when he saw that the small concrete mixers were pulled by oxen.
Within days he had found a spot and built his own clapboard shanty house, which only meant it had four walls and a ceiling of plywood nailed to four wooden posts. The door was held to a slight frame by three ropes. He was actually proud of it, that it came from his own hands. He threw his mattress inside and it was home.
He knew where the nearest public water faucet was, he knew well the nearest latrine – you can’t miss it, just follow the smell. He knew the best places to buy vegetables that weren’t rotting and he was learning the best places to get an alcoholic drink but not by choice. He had been deputized to find laborers that had wandered off the reservation by drinking their meager wages, their families were furious when this happened.
Greyson knew that the missionaries had decided he was more than a common laborer because he was educated and determined. Some of these locals would work a day or two and then vanish for another two days and return penniless again.
Then there were the ones with mouths to feed who went off drinking, this was a serious thing and when the families complained the mission may have to deny a man work until his claims of conversions were believed.
During one night this happened, rousted out of bed to search for a missing laborer. This was one of the guys he knew. Raul Patel wasn’t usually the kind of man who would vanish and leave his kids behind without food. This kind of existence could break anyone, Greyson told himself as he went from one awful location to the next.
Some of the swill that was made and served was barely drinkable, much of it was likely poisonous. After checking in several of the nearest places he got the idea that Raul might have sought out something better and made his way to the only bar he knew that had a name attached to it.
The Clutching Rooster was closer to the space port than to the home of Raul Patel but it was always worth a try. If Raul had gotten the notion he could hang out with those better off than his dirty self he would come here. Still for a “higher class” establishment it would have been rejected back in Ostia and burned as a health hazard.
As soon as he walked in something felt wrong. Before he could turn around four hands grabbed his arms and something was pulled down over his head. He was trying to object when something hit him upside the head and his body went weak.
“That is him, where is my money?” he heard the voice of Raul Patel say before passing out.