At the Trough by Adam Knight

Author:Adam Knight [Knight, Adam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: NineStar Press, LGBT, lesbian sci-fi, futuristic, dystopia, education, conformity, teacher, student, secret meetings, forbidden book, mental illness
Publisher: NineStar Press
Published: 2019-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

THE CAMP LAY deep in the forest, a mixture of shanties built from corrugated metal and plywood, and tents. A stream ran through the middle. People of all ages, dressed in old fashioned clothing of the early twenty-first century, walked around, talking, cleaning, laughing, and working. These people live and work together, Charles thought. Face to face and side by side. In the Plexes, everyone is alone. In Plexes, we only see faces through screens, if ever.

“Welcome to our home,” Aisha said.

“So, this is where the Devils of—” Melody started. Maury glared at her. Aisha took a step closer.

“We don’t have a name for ourselves,” she explained. “We’re just us. But do not utter the name ‘Devils of Stag Hill’ in this camp. Frank still calls us by that name, and that’s reason enough not to use it.”

“And what do you call Frank and his people?” Melody asked.

“Assholes,” Maury said.

“Come,” Aisha said. “I see the hunting party has returned, and it looks like a success. When’s the last time you had an honest feast? No guest of ours leaves hungry.”

Soon, they were sitting on blankets and logs in a large circle near the stream, waiting for the food to arrive. They had not eaten since having snacks on the train, many hours earlier, and now hunger made its demands.

“I wonder what we’ve having,” Peter said. “She said a feast. I hope it’s turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy and corn, just like at Thanksgiving.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Melody said. “Turkey, maybe. If turkeys live in the forest, then maybe they caught one. But do you think they grow corn and potatoes out here? Could they even make gravy on a fire?”

Jean Paul rubbed his stomach.

“I don’t need nothing fancy. Just some arroz con frijoles, maybe a can of Coke, anything, man. I’m so hungry.”

Aisha sat next to them. She seemed to have some position of importance, as she was constantly in conversation with one person or another. But if there was a hierarchy in the camp, it was impossible to tell. Everyone seemed to be getting along.

Aisha stood. So did the other dwellers of the camp. Following suit, so did Charles and the rest of the group. In walked a parade of servers, carrying steaming pots and pans. Charles looked around and noticed everyone around them held out forks, knives, and spoons, as well as plates made of aluminum or plastic. The servers brought the pots and pans around, and each person reached in with a spoon and scooped a portion onto his or her own plate. When the serving train came around to them, Charles found extra plates and utensils being pushed into his hands. “We travel lightly,” whispered someone in his ear, some unknown benefactor. “But there is always an extra place setting for a stranger.”

Charles had sat at dozens of Thanksgiving dinners, countless meals at friends’ and family’s homes, awards dinners and parties. This dinner was distinct from all of them. There was no head of the table; indeed, there was no table.

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