“Does anyone have a notebook and a pen?”
A single hand shot up.
I walked over to the young woman and the crowd was parting in front of me like the sea in front of Moses.
“Thank God for your foresight,” I smiled at her. “Ms…?”
“Grace. I wouldn’t call it foresight.” She returned my smile, although a little shyly. “I’m a writer. I always have a pen and a piece of paper on hand.”
“Lucky for us. I think the time has come for a census,” I said and she nodded as if she did something like that every other day.
A moment later she brought her notebook out from the factory and handed me a pen, so I filled in the first line.
“Could you note the adult’s name, profession, the name of the child that belongs to them, and the name of the recipient of their letter?”
“Why the profession?”
I shrugged. “So we have a place to start? We weren’t chosen by accident so if we’re supposed to contribute something meaningful to the community, it’d be good to have a general idea.”
In a few hours she was able to speak to everyone and note down all the information. She showed me pages covered with dense writing and I was again struck by how The Collective managed to put together a grand plan to save about four hundred people–that all had at least a basic knowledge of English at that–, and then put it to action.
I looked down at the notebook again and noticed that Grace had thought of putting a number next to every pair, which made counting everyone much easier.
2 Frank–lumberjack - Ruby–granddaughter - Billy
4 Billy–musician - Graham–grandson - Libby
6 Nadia–cook - Megan–daughter - Hong
I kept turning the pages until I got to the last one.
371 Gerald–fisherman - Niamph–daughter - Zayaan
373 Scott–doctor - Connor–son - Sanne
375 Sheryl–teacher - Holly–granddaughter - Sawyer
Billy was looking over my shoulder. “How come we ended on an odd number?”
Grace looked sadly at a young man standing to the side of us. “His name is Stanley. His daughter died in a car crash in Auckland,” she sighed. “Stanley didn’t even make it to his shelter because his bag got stolen, along with his papers, letters and keys. He’s been tramping the entire six months.”
I was surprised that this tragedy only happened to one of us, but I didn’t say that out loud and internally sent thanks up high that Ruby was alright. Connie’s efforts to get us to safety were suddenly a lot easier to understand.
Grace broke the silence again. “What next?”
We sent groups of adults out to nearby orchards to gather food. They were returning with bags packed with apples, avocados, kiwi fruits and grapes. It was enough to chase away hunger, but it was clear that this kind of diet wouldn’t be enough long term. However, the most pressing things should be dealt with first, we agreed. We needed to decide, plan out and implement different things beforehand. First, where we were going to live because that’s where we would also cook and eat, store our provisions, build a base, keep cattle, and teach the children.
Right away we asked the teachers and wardens to look after the children and keep them entertained with games. Cooks and bakers accompanied by volunteers of other professions took over meal preparations, even though for now that basically entailed peeling, slicing and giving out fruit.
Then we put together the maps The Collective had left in our shelters to lead us to the blue tree. This gave us a good idea of our immediate surroundings. Apart from the factory, there was also a cottage settlement with a large children’s centre and a spacious cafeteria, vast orchards with various fruit and vegetables and farms with deer, sheep, and poultry and cows.
“I guess this is the answer to our question,” I thought aloud.
Billy looked up from the notes in Grace’s notebook. “What do you mean?”
I waved my hand over the map. “Everything we need is in one place, within walking distance. The Collective has brought us to a place where we can comfortably settle and get food. And whatever we’re missing we have the ability to build or make. This must be why there are builders, roofers, seamstresses… All of us will find livelihood here, and play an important part.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to move somewhere else, where there already is everything?” an older Asian man standing in the back of the crowd suggested. “If we went back to Rotorua…”
He let the words hang in the air and I could see in the thoughtful faces around me that they were all calculating how easy it would be to claim houses in a few streets right in the city. Everyone in their own comfortable home, and yet close enough to other people. Just like it was before the end of the world.
“Well, I don’t want to rain on your parade, Akio,” a woman who’s accent and dark skin suggested she was from South America joined in, “but every city, including Rotorua, was filled with people before the infection spread, people who all eventually died, so…”
María, I remembered her name.
She didn’t need to continue, we must have all had an encounter with a dead body. Multiply that by the seventy five thousand people who used to live in Rotorua. It would put off anyone.
“Alright, so we’ll stay here,” Akio answered quickly.
“It’ll be better,” Billy agreed, almost apologetically. “But just to be sure–shall we vote? The majority will decide. Who wants us to stay here?”
This time hands weren’t shooting up into the air nearly as quickly and automatically as before. People had doubts.
A young woman next to me asked to speak. “I’m Libby, a gardener and a florist. I know everything about plants, but don’t ask me to make decisions about people. I have no intentions to take on that kind of responsibility.”
“What if things are decided for you?”
She shrugged. “I can conform. Actually, I’d rather follow than lead.”
This inspired an entirely different type of voting. It turned out that many others would also much prefer to get instructions than give
