“We need to step up our “Fuck Jerri” program, and I for one look forward to sticking a fork in the Collective’s dick. We can do both at once and get paid for it. Interested?” ’Te grinned. It wasn’t a nice grin. Neither was ’Mia’s, though ’Tok looked his usual urbane self. The conference room had been redecorated to ’Tok’s exacting standards, and the walls tastefully hung with a variety of paintings. A room that both screamed MONEY and provided fodder for the subtle unterspracht that he so enjoyed. ’Te couldn’t be bothered with it today. He was entirely too excited.

“Tell me more.” ’Tok said.

“Simple. We now have a legal framework for the joint stock company. We are doing a slow rollout of the state owned companies over the next couple of weeks, and then our private companies are up for auction. So… just enough time to get those murderous weasels in the Red Mountain Xia house to work promoting the stock.”

“I will unscrew my own head before I let Jerri into any of our companies.” ’Mia said.

“Obviously. With one exception, right?”

“We are not running a pump and dump scam the first month joint stock companies exist this epoch, ’Te.” ‘Tok frowned slightly.

“Of course not, that would be way too obvious and would fit into the Collective’s narrative. No, we need to do something that both screws the Nomekis and frustrates the Collective’s long term goals in the region. I’m thinking imports. Namely, we import a crapload of wood and, better still, roofing tiles, from the Disputed territory. Put the buy orders out now, make sure the Sky Runners have ample time to pass the word, and by summer we will be swimming in supplies. Hell, spring, even.”

“Only people up there are little Dusty cantons. Well, and some Langpopo tribes and a few Collective settlements, but really, it’s Dusty turf at the moment, and subsistence farming at that.” ’Mia sounded curious. “Not exactly a hive of industry.”

“What if we changed that? The Langpopo have a crazy number of cheves. The Dusties have all the hydropower in the world, and no shortage of clay. A few saw mills and kilns up there, and we would have serious production running.” Te said.

“No navigable rivers that would get logs from them to us, though. And hauling everything by wagon would not be particularly economical.” ’Mia countered.

“Not logs, finished boards. Already cut to size based on the requirements of the City Rebuilding corporation or whatever they called it. We let the Langpopo handle the haulage, and we pitch it to them as getting paid for something they already want to do- screwing the Collective. The stronger Cold Garden is, the better an ally they will be. Of course, they will never be strong enough to be a threat to the Langpopo, it’s just about making them more useful.”

“Not sure that’s enough to get them into the haulage business, but let's put a pin in that for the moment. What is your plan for screwing the Nomekis on this?” ’Mia was getting into it.

“Simple- We’ll set up a privately held corporation for this company. A company that only exists to make targeted loans. We’ll call it a special investment vehicle. The vehicle is funded by bond sales and gets its income from the interest repayments on the loans. People loan us money, we loan it out at a higher interest rate to the Dusties and Langpopo. High return bond sales with no Nomeki involvement, meaning no need to butter her up. We undercut both Jerri’s source of income AND chip away at her political influence.”

“Alright, sounds promising. Not a knockout blow or anything, but it does bring in some new cash and yes, frustrates the Collective and the Nomekis. Start building the company, reaching out to the Dusties and the Langpopo, you know what to do.” ’Tok nodded. “Any other serious business before lunch?”

“Yes, the Voices of Reason have been using their people aggressively lately. People outside the various investment and underwriting departments are leaning on the people in those departments. Information mostly, but they also want certain projects sped up or slowed down. I’m not sure what their overall goal is here, other than muscling in on some projects, killing some of ours, and generally weakening employee loyalty.”

“Push back. Get all of them on performance improvement plans and hint strongly about termination if certain behaviors are not curtailed. If they are junior enough and look like good example material, make them one.” ’Tok was harsh.

“The blowback will be significant. Between their patronage networks and their actual patrons, these aren’t little shrimp.”

“On the contrary, that is exactly what they are. Little shrimp, scrambling around for scraps before the big fish bite. Under the insane impression that if they can just eat enough trash, maybe they can be a predator too. Instead, they simply become fatter prey. This is the precursor to a heavy move by the Business Council. Start stacking the affected departments with Green Mountain Group people, start transferring out the shrimp. If you can pin anything on them, do so. Loop in the Rules Committee, some of their juniors will find these little shrimp succulent enough.” ’Tok sat erect in his seat, cold and imperious.

’Mia and ’Te stood and bowed. “It will be done.” They chorused.

Xiatokja was seriously contemplating having someone killed. Not any particular person, just someone. Someone whose death would relieve her of the mountains of papers in front of her, most of which required her to make a decision. What to grow. How many new greenhouses can be built? How many should be built? How fast can we bring in new crops? Will it be enough to get the City through the spring?

Except everyone knew the answer to that last question- No. Even if they scraped together every scrap of glass in the city and every bit of compost and every bit of topsoil, it wouldn’t be enough to fill the gap. Plants didn’t grow in days or weeks, they grew in months. You could certainly accelerate that growth rate with the right greensmithed plants and right additives, but that used even more resources they didn’t have, and increased the cost per plant dramatically. It might be worth it anyway, but it also had the nasty side effect of making the plants less nutritious and ruining the soil. Assuming they could magic together the greenhouses and the soil and the light and the heat and the fertilizer, and the microbes and the insects and every other damn thing a healthy ecosystem needed.

“Expert? Expert, there is a family here to see you.” One of her managers burst into her office unannounced, nearly eating a face full of hard radiation in the process. They paled, both at the sight of the weapon and Xiatokja’s glare.

“Knock.”

“Yes. Yes. I will knock. I apologize unreservedly.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“As well you should. What family, and why should I care?”

“A man, a woman, and a child. They told me to tell you some bit of poetry.”

“Poetry.”

“I think so? It might be code.”

“Hah. Alright, let me hear it.”

The manager coughed awkwardly and began. “Glory to the Black Parade, glory to its tireless marchers. Glory to the keepers of the music and glory to the hearts that beat as drums.”

The manager stopped and looked at Xiatokja expectantly. She smiled beatifically.

“Gods be praised! Send the Bo right on in.”

The family looked rather haggard, in raggedy clothes and blank, empty faces. The youngest, a girl of around five, had the empty look of one so traumatized, they have retreated within themselves. It would be a long time before she healed. If she ever did. The eldest (or at least, Xiatokja suspected he was the eldest, it was hard to tell with the Bo,) looked empty simply because he was apathetic. Things would happen or not, and it was much the same to him. But the one in the middle, the woman, made a trickle of fear run up and down Xiatokja’s spine. Her emptiness was a void. A fully sapient creature that could remember being a human, possessed of less emotion than a bird. An old word from her school days wafted up- quietus. Which meant that she had to be very, very careful indeed.

“I am very happy to see you all.” She looked at the family and rapidly revised what she was going to say. “I am happy to see you because you can potentially solve some problems I am having and improve the long term survival odds of my family and myself.”

They nodded at that. Slightly. The daughter just stared blankly at her lap. Xiatokja continued. “Is there something I can do to assist you in exchange?”

The eldest nodded. “Yes, we need a few things. Employment would solve most of them. We can work in the greenhouse, and my granddaughter will need schooling. We will all require gentle resocialization, though that will simply come from living and working around people. With time.”

“Ah. Are you safe to have around my other employees?”

The eldest looked faintly offended. “Of course not.”

“Allow me to rephrase. Do you think there is a reasonable likelihood that you will harm, or by deliberate inaction allow to come to harm, my other employees, guests, vendors and the like?”

“Not particularly. We are fairly reactive, so as long as we aren’t threatened, everything should be fine.”

“And your… motivation to continue working once your immediate material needs are met?”

He waved at the little girl.

“Her. To the extent that we can be desperately worried about something, we are worried about her. She needs a safe environment, her material needs met and a good education provided. She needs to be able to socialize with other children and learn how to be a proper human.” The woman, the mother? Moved for the first time. A simple nod, but it spoke volumes.

“I see. I can easily arrange childcare. And your material needs are also manageable, though this year will be bad for everyone.”

That got her a look from both father and daughter, and Xiatokja had the grace to feel a little sheepish.

“Alright, fair enough. I run a business, keeping payroll down is a major focus. I won’t stiff you on pay or benefits, I do desperately need the best greensmiths I can get.”

They nodded at that. A sudden, very strange, very dangerous thought came to Xiatokja. Very dangerous… but potentially…

“Young lady, I’m not familiar with the… state you exist in currently. However, if you were provided with detailed instructions on how to do certain tasks, could you reliably perform those tasks and, if necessary, make reasonable inferences about how to handle unexpected situations that arose in the course of doing those tasks?”

“I suppose so. I think I’m correctly inferring the meaning of inferences.”

Xiatokja felt her mouth twitch without her wanting it to.

“You are. Would you consider employment outside the greenhouses? One that would keep you closer to your daughter and give her a significantly higher standard of living?”

“Yes.”

Xiatokja took a deep breath. “My concubine recently lost her maid and is in need of constant protection when she is out in the city. Which is almost every waking hour, drat her. I would very much prefer that she have a maid that is also a highly effective bodyguard. As for resocialization, I can assure you that following Xia Gentian around will expose you to all sorts of humanity. You will live in my mansion and your daughter will live with you. Are you willing to do this job?”

The woman, or woman shaped creature depending on how you defined humanity, looked at her for a long moment, then nodded.

A terribly burnt woman staggered along the street. She used a length of wood as a staff, barely able to stay on her feet and keep moving. Her eyes were fixed down the road, deeper into the Dusty quarter. They were bright, fever bright, for not one but two sorts of fevers burned inside her. She missed her footing, and started to fall. Rough hands caught her gently.

“Sister, you are in no shape to be up and moving! Can I help you get home?” A young Dusty asked.

“No, thank you. I need to speak to your Humble. Is he around?”

“Which one? Humble Giselen would be the closest, I think, but she’s overseeing a partition.” The Dusty looked sad. “She’s doing a lot of partitions these days. Hard to do that and do your pastoral work.”

The burnt woman coughed hard. “Yes I imagine so. Maybe you can help me first. Let’s sit on that rock there.” They shuffled over and the burnt woman sat. She sighed, trying to recover some energy.

“So many dead. I understand how partitioning works. Always thought it was a bit sweet, if not the way our faith teaches us. But how does it work in a city? It’s not like you can be buried in your gardens. Ain’t enough gardens.”

“Yeah, it’s come up a lot recently.” The young Dusty stared across the street. “Basically one of a couple of ways. If the whole family dies, we combine the body with dirt, worms, insects, good stuff basically, and plant a tree in them. Either in a park, or if we can build a sacred grove, in the grove. Sometimes just a spot near town that could use a few trees. A lot of times, even if there is surviving family, folks want to be trees. There is a small wood thirty minutes from here that is just the extended Oolivy family. Some folks ask to be processed into things like soap, or animal feed, or other kinds of less durable stuff, but it’s not popular. Trees is basically the number one pick. I’d be a tree.”

The burned woman shivered hard, the fever warring with the bitter cold. “Yes, it does sound rather lovely. I think I would like to be a tree. Well, my body would be a tree. My soul would dance with my husband and my little Sani in the stars.” She nodded. “Mother Malima is looking after her. I know it.”

“I’m sure that’s true. You will be reunited soon.” The Dusty murmured.

“Yes, it’s such a relief! I was so scared before, but I’m not now. What do you do with the bodies when there are so many to be processed? It must be a nightmare for the Humbles.”

“It is, yeah.” She pointed at a still standing warehouse. “We let them freeze, basically. You have to be really, really careful to keep the vermin out, because they get through almost anything, but we have a line on a really good polisher. No vermin near our dead, Mother Moon’s mercy upon us.”

“Wonderful, wonderful. You have really thought things through well. Might I trouble you for a cup of water? It’s a long walk back to my hovel.”

“Sure, sure. Say, we don’t have much room, but if you need it-”

“Thank you for your kindness, young Dusty. Thank you very much. I can see the joyous, generous soul in you. But I have a few things to take care of, and I can’t do it here. I must rush. My Sani is waiting.