A cart pulled up to the bakery and parked in the street. The cart was a rarity in the village. No one who lived there owned one. Everyone went everywhere on foot. The lumberjacks used oxen to haul their logs. Ben Pittock, no one called him Benjamin except his youngest sister, was minding the front counter alone. His daughter, who did most of the heavy work of the bakery, was busy in the back working the wood fired oven.
Irene, Ben’s sister, stepped out of the cart. Todd got out of the other side. Todd carried a large roll of paper in one hand. He walked off in the direction of the town’s message board. Irene turned to enter the building. Ben watched these developments through the small multi-paned windows that fronted the shop door.
“Good morning,” Irene called in greeting as she stepped inside.
“Good morning,” Ben responded to his sister. “What brings you into town?”
“I’m working on some final preparations for the school,” Irene said. She crossed the little waiting area to stand by the counter. “Do you have some time to talk?”
“I need to mind the store until Sean arrives. We can talk here between customers if you want,” Ben explained.
“That’s fine,” Irene responded. She settled herself, leaning the gray staff she carried against the counter. She was dressed in a ship’s uniform that looked like it was manufactured yesterday. Ben supposed it probably was, since his sister was chief engineer of the Speedwell. Even grounded, the ship continued to function, providing manufactured goods and medical care to the residents of the eastern villages. “I received about twenty pre-registrations for students through the warehouse system for this winter,” Irene explained. “I was really hoping for about sixty.”
“I didn’t realize the warehouse could do that,” Ben responded. The eastern villages were decidedly low tech. The landing generation built the structures out of native wood and stone. The warehouse was built with the advanced technology of the colony ship. It supplied the villages with the products they could not make for themselves. Ben purchased wheat from the warehouse that was grown by the automated farm machines set up by the landing generation.
Ben knew his sister was setting up a school on the ship, but he was unaware of the details. What he knew came from a poster Todd posted on the village's message board a month or two ago.
“Great,” Irene responded, she looked genuinely happy with that response. “I hoped maybe the problem was people didn’t realize it could be done. I should have used clearer wording on the first village poster.”
The outer door opened. This time it was one of Ben’s regular customers from the village. The woman made her usual order, after a curious look at Irene. She waited while Ben worked at wrapping her purchase up.
“Since there are still openings, I’m going to allow enrollment the day we pick up the students,” Irene said. “People will have to pay the tuition right there. It’s 1200 Speedwell coins for a single student. Do you think people will have that kind of money available on the day, or is it going to be a problem?”
“It might be a problem for people who decide right then to send a student, but anyone planning ahead knows the cost,” Ben responded. He carried the order over the customer. It was packed in the customer's cloth bag. “Here you go,” he said to her. “Did you need anything else today?”
“Thank you, Ben,” the woman replied, as she accepted the bag rather reluctantly from him. “Let me just think about it for a moment.” She stepped a little to the side and started looking through her order.
“We are still looking for people to hire as minders for the children at night,” Irene said. “Was I not clear about that on the notice? The position comes with food and housing for the term plus two weeks arrival and dispersal and pays 600 Speedwell coins. The minders aren’t expected to teach, so they will be free to make use of the ship’s facilities when the classes are in session. Well, except for the facilities being used for the classes.”
The bakery door opened again and another customer came inside. As Ben dealt with the second customer, the first one started talking to Irene. The question was asked too softly for Ben to hear, but Irene’s response was clear.
“A minder, or residence supervisor stays with the children at night. They will be expected to collect the children in the dining hall after dinner and escort them back to their rooms. They teach the students how to care for their beds and use the auto wash facilities in the housing units. They supervise the students during the night and bring any injured or ill child to the medical facility. They make sure all the students get up in time for breakfast in the morning and walk with them to the dining facilities,” Irene explained. The customer asked another too low question.
“No, minders don’t have to be single and without children. They just can’t bring their children or spouse with them. The position only provides housing and food for one. We’re using the apartments inside the ship for housing. Each apartment has three bedrooms. Two of the rooms are for the students, four to a room. The third room is for the minder, it is furnished with just one bed.”
“They get their own room?” the woman asked, in a louder voice.
“Yes, inside the apartment. That way they are close enough to hear the children if one cries in the night. Each apartment has its own bathroom and kitchen. The minders aren’t required to do any cooking, but I would like to get people who are willing to put together a light snack for a lonely child during the night.”
“Here you go,” he said to his second customer. He was forced to say it twice to get the man’s attention. “Did you need anything else today?”
“No, that is it for me,” he said. He picked up his bread and turned to look at Irene. “Are you talking about the winter jobs on the Speedwell for the school?” Irene shifted her focus to the second customer.
“Yes,” she said to him with a smile. “My brother and I are working out the final details.”
“Ben?” the man said, turning to look at the old baker. “I didn’t realize you were affiliated with the school.”
“It is his idea,” Irene said. “He wants his grandchildren to know how we were able to come to this world. I am just helping to implement his vision.”
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Another customer came in.
“The school is teaching reading, writing, math and history to everyone. Then there are electives in self defense, hunting, farming, cooking and the crafts,” Ben heard Irene say as he dealt with his next customer. As Ben dealt with the morning crowd, he kept hearing bits and pieces of Irene’s responses.
“We are still looking for instructors for the crafts. The instructor position pays 2400 for the term. We are offering beginner courses in metalworking, woodworking, tailoring and leathercraft.”
“Is that everything?” Ben asked.
“Yes, that’s it for me,” the customer responded, although they didn’t make any move to leave the small shop.
“There will be hands-on experience with traditional earthen methods, instructions on industrial methods and if approved by the student's sponsor, a hands-on introduction to structure methods.”
“You mean magic?” a woman said with some alarm.
“Yes, what many call magic, although it is really an even more advanced technological method of production than Earth's industry. We will cover that in the history classes. No student will be taken into the structure without the express written permission of their sponsor.”
The shop was getting crowded. Ben didn’t think anyone left since Irene arrived. Ben was starting to hear repeats of the same information. Ben’s oldest grandson Sean squeezed in through the street door.
“What is going on?” He asked his grandfather.
“School update,” Ben told him.
“The warehouse stations have more information on the positions. There is only so much I can put on a poster. If you're interested you can sign up for one of the positions at the warehouse station,” Irene said.
“Do you have to read to take the job?” one of the younger customers asked.
“For an instructor position, yes, but not for a minder position. If an adult wants to attend the school and they are willing to serve as a residence supervisor for the younger students, they can put the pay against the tuition. They would only need to pay 600 coins for the session,” Irene said. Sean turned and looked at his grandfather.
“Adults can attend?” he asked the old man.
“Yes,” Ben responded. Answering from the information he learned in the last hour. “You don’t have to take a job to attend either. If you don’t it’s the same cost as a child and you will be in the same practical classes. In the defense classes each student will be matched with someone the same size for sparring.”
Finally people started leaving when Irene was well into her third repetition. Sean, being one of the last to arrive, kept asking Ben for clarifications after one of Irene’s responses. Ben noticed that people on his side of the room were listening to him almost as much as they were to Irene. That’s when he realized Irene had migrated to the other end of the shop when he wasn’t looking. It was obvious that she was experienced in using the rumor mill to distribute information.
“Now that Sean’s here to take over, I am free to talk,” Ben called to Irene when the room was down to about half its peak occupation. “I’ll get my coat and we can sit at the bench.” Irene agreed. Ben stepped into the back room and told his daughter he was going out to sit on the bench and talk to his sister. He took off his apron and hung it on a peg by the door.
“You’ll need your coat,” his daughter reminded him.
“I’m getting it,” Ben replied, climbing the stairs to the house above.
When he returned to the shop, most of the customers were gone, although Sean was selling bread to a late arrival and passing on what he learned about the school.
“You should put in a couple tables and serve tea and breakfast rolls in the mornings,” Irene was telling his daughter. “People like a place where they can sit and gossip.”
“My mother always wanted to do something like that. That is why this front area is as large as it is. Furniture is costly,” Ben’s daughter explained. “We’ve always been busy enough as it is.”
“The school is going to have the students complete projects to learn skills. A table and chairs might be beyond the students this year, but I can see that being a project for a more advanced student. If you sponsored the project it would be a way to get the pieces at a lower cost,” Irene suggested.
“Ready?” Ben asked, before his daughter could ask what it would take to sponsor a project.
The siblings stepped out onto the boardwalk. Irene led the way over to the bench. Ben wasn’t certain who built the bench originally, but he sat on it many times with his sister. There was the chill of the coming winter in the air, but Ben was warm enough in his coat. Irene didn’t show any sign that she noticed the cold. High clouds obscured the sun, but the day was still bright.
“I want you to come teach at the school,” Irene said suddenly. “Todd is going to teach cooking, but I’d like you to give a course in baking. If you can help Todd out with how cooking is done in the villages, that will be great too.”
“I don’t know,” Ben replied. “I don’t have the energy I used to have. I never baked on the ship. I really only know how to do it in my oven.”
“That’s not a problem,” Irene announced. “I put together a baking workshop for you, complete with a wood fired oven. It's on the eastern terrace where it will catch the morning sun.”
“You built it?” Ben queried.
“Well I used the construction robots to build it. You should come and inspect it and see if it will work, even if I can’t convince you to teach. If it needs any changes I can do them now before the term,” Irene said. Ben thought about that. He decided he could do that much. He did start all this with his comment about schooling the settlement children this summer.
“I guess I can check it for you,” Ben admitted. “Do you have fuel for it? You can’t really tell the quality of an oven unless you light it.”
“Yes, it’s mostly scrap wood from the manufactory, but I added bundled twigs to the buy list in the warehouses and we’ve gotten some in. If the scrap wood won’t work I’ll increase the buy price for the twigs,” Irene said.
“When do you want to do it?” Ben asked.
“We can go now if you're not busy. I want to stop at the two villages on the way to post our update, but that shouldn’t take too much time,” Irene said. Ben thought about it and decided he might as well get it done with, so he could get back to his normal routine. The morning rush was over.
“Ok,” Ben said. “I’ll just tell my daughter where I’m going.”
“Great,” Irene said.
Ben stuck his head into the front of his shop and told his daughter he was going up to the Speedwell to give his opinion on the bread oven built for the school. He told her he expected to be back by nightfall. His daughter told him to keep warm and to not let his sister work him too hard.
As he approached the cart where it was parked along the boardwalk, he overheard Irene talking to one of his neighbors.
“We are taking Benjamin up to inspect the workshops now,” Irene said. “If we need to do a lot of changes the schedule might slip.”
“Val,” Ben said in greeting.
“It’s very exciting news about the school,” Val responded.
“Yes,” Ben responded. “It’s getting close now.” Val nodded her head in agreement and stepped back out of the way as Ben carefully climbed into the front passenger seat of the little cart. The cart swayed dangerously as Todd scrambled into the back. Irene stepped into the driver's seat so lightly the vehicle didn’t even shift.
The cart eased its way out of Ben’s village, being careful to not endanger any of the residents. They picked up speed on the main road. Irene was following the road north that ran along the edge of the automated fields. Most of the fields were already harvested and planted in their cover crops for the winter season.