Lyssa and I watched them load an unused barn with scrap metal. The air was incensed with rust and hints of grease. Trucks engines roared. The warning beeps as they reversed into position grated on my ears.

“This stuff came from one of their potash mines up north,” I said. “They usually sell it to a recycler at breakeven as a part of some environmental initiative.”

“Now they’re giving it to you,” she said.

I pointed to the skeletal framework being erected beside the barn.

“A rudimentary forge,” I said. “Something they can put up in a day.”

“For making tools,” Lyssa said with a sly lilt.

“Whatever else for?”

She gave me a playful little smile.

“Glad to see you’ve found your path,” she said.

I had been allowed to visit the library during the day as well. I had told them it was to learn to how to use the new toys they were bringing in. The better I was at using them, the better I would be able to lead. Sebastian looked pleased. When he saw me in the hall he’d give me a fist bump. ‘We’ve been known to adopt outsiders into our fold on occasion,’ he said to me once. ‘So if you keep this up…’

I remember smiling. It made the simple man happy. But on the inside I was fuming. The idea felt like caustic in my stomach. Me, joining them, taking on their family name—I’d rather go nameless forever. So why did the approval feel so good? When I left the house that day I went back to the fields and smashed my fist into the side of our warehouse. That brought me back on track.

A buzzing noise pulled me out of the memory and back to the unloading semi-trucks. I stopped picking at the scabs on my knuckles and looked up. A bird? No, a machine. It had a bulbous head and thin wings that spread straight out the sides of the hull. It sounded like a mosquito.

“What is that?” I muttered.

“A Mojave model,” Lyssa whispered. “General Atomics. Guess I’d better lay low for a while.”

“What?”

Lyssa suddenly looked frightened. Her fingers shook. Her eyes darted. She began to breathe deeply.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“…Yes,” she said after a moment. “I’m fine.” Her calm returned, but she was different. I could tell. I didn’t think she appreciated just how weird she was. We all showed different parts of ourselves depending on who we were with, I supposed. Lyssa most of all. Sometimes it felt like she was different people in the same sitting.

“Are you scared of planes?” I asked.

“It’s not the plane,” she said.

But she did not elaborate further, so I didn’t pry. I had work to do anyhow.

After the construction crews were done setting up our new machine shop I gathered the ‘steadhands under the roof. We poured over our new tools. All this was fresh to them, especially to me. I didn’t even know what a lathe was. We learned together.

“Thanks for pulling this off,” the truck mechanic told me later in the evening. His name was Steve. “I used to work on stuff like this with my pa. Didn’t think I’d step foot in a shop ever again.”

“It’s not all fun and games,” I said. “We have to get one of our old combines up and running within the week. We need to prove to the Werner’s this had a point.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Right,” he said. “Shouldn’t be too hard. An engine’s an engine.”

“Great. When you’re done, can you try making this?” I gave him a set of drawings.

Steve frowned as he studied them.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Just think of it as practice to get the rust off.”

“Okay.” He didn’t question me further. It really made things a lot easier when they didn’t do that.

Sending farming equipment out for rebuilding was an expensive and time-consuming affair. Not that it was our money being spent anyway. The onus was on the Werner’s. Which meant they did it if the mood took them. But they’d expect the same output out of us despite our aging toolset.

I took deep breaths. Patience, patience. I fixed up my mask—that of a studious young worker looking to impress—and did what they wanted me to do. Siobhan was right about one thing. Work felt good to do. These were good sores, the kind I went to bed with after a long day of making things right.

Three days after our shop went in operation we had brought our old combine to life. It was a 2005 model Deere with barely any green left. They brought me in for a second meeting. Siobhan wasn’t there.

“Where is Ms. Werner?” I asked.

“Which one?” Mateo said.

“Siobhan.”

“You need to speak to her?”

“No, just curious.”

“Do not even think about it, kid,” Nathan said. He was loudly chewing a sandwich.

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“Don’t worry about him,” Mateo said. “Siobhan took all the brains in our generation. She’s actually busy.”

That made Nathan visibly angry, but not at his cousin. He was directing it at me, as if I had said that.

“I called this meeting to congratulate you,” Mateo said. “Not only have you saved this homestead a bit of money, you’ve proven this model works.”

“She mentioned that this place was a model,” I said.

“Yes. Francis Cabot Lowell started an extraordinary idea in the early 1800s. To build a community around the place of manufacture. After all, the employer knew best how to make use of the employee’s time and what ameliorations a worker needed. Leaving amenities to the government, well, when might that happen? And how would a bunch of career politicians know what hard workers like you needed?”

“Right,” I said.

“Look at how quickly we can give you what you need. Does that machine shop work?”

“It does.”

“Are your people satisfied?”

“For now.”

“And when they find another object of necessity, we will make it happen.”

“If I could be a little bold,” I said.

“It was boldness that got you that position.”

“What if some of them start to… wonder about their old life.”

Mateo seemed to give it some thought.

“The life decimated by Rachminau,” he said.

“What if they want to return to it?”

“A simple question to ask,” he said. “But how will it happen? The government is aware, young man, that many people remained displaced. We are recovering, but at their pace. Do you think we’re hiding? Or, doing something unscrupulous? If their agent arrives at our door with a plan for your people, we’d gladly accommodate. Why haven’t they?”

“I’m just relaying some concerns I’ve noticed among my peers.”

“Of course.”

Abe spoke up. “Feel free to let me know which ones. We can do another demonstration.” He grinned.

“You may go, Cassidy,” Mateo said. “And please forgive their brutishness.”

I nodded. I couldn’t care less.

When I returned to the dorms that night, Steve handed me the device I had asked him to build.

“To be frank, I’m a little concerned,” he said. “I don’t know much outside of auto mechanics. I don’t know what this could be for, at least around here.”

“Ah just a part of my job,” I said.

“Well if you say so. Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back.”

I headed towards the cellar. It had been a while since I made this walk. The cool wind felt much the same. But I no longer felt the bite of the ground through the shoes they had given me. It was almost nostalgic. Not so long ago I would have been carrying a pail of milk down these steps. Today was the last time I would visit this part of the house. I left the cellar empty-handed, returned to the dorms, and went straight to bed. When I woke the next morning it was to the sound of alarms.

I rushed out of bed along with the other ‘steadhands. Armed guards were rushing through our quarters. We were panicking. Someone cried out as they tried to run but were struck onto the floor.

“Hey!” I shouted. “What the hell is going on?”

Sebastian Werner walked in from behind the guards.

“Calm down Cass,” he said. “We’re just securing the place.”

“Why?” I said angrily. “Your man just hit one of your workers!”

“All of you be gentle with ‘em,” Sebastian shouted. “Cass, calm them down.”

“What is happening?!”

“Tell them to calm down.” This time it wasn’t a request.

I raised my voice. “Everyone relax,” I called. “We’re safe. We’re all safe.”

“Thank you.” Sebastian’s friendly uncle demeanor returned. “Well, not really as safe as we’d like.”

“What happened?” I asked again.

Sebastian looked pained. “There’s been a death in the family, Cass. Abraham Werner.” He sniffed. “That poor boy. Our old pasteurizer must have blown a gasket. Covered him in compressed air. They found him in two pieces this morning on the cellar floor.”

My brow furrowed. “Oh no…”