After everyone had settled in Michael gathered all the gladers as well as some of the predominate members of the community in the main room of the center. The trestle tables and chairs all lines up in neat rows like they were back in school. Thomas, Minho, Harriet and Frypan took the tables in the front. Michael cleared his throat.
"Most of you already know my name is Michael," He started. Thomas noticed he was wearing the blue plaid shirt Rachel had repaired the night before. For a fleeting second jealousy raged in his gut before he reminded himself he didn't care. Thomas nudged Minho and smirked. He was temporality enjoying Michael's discomfort with speaking to the large crowd. "I'm in charge of the mission here in Zeta Colony. Or as we like to simply call it the community."
Michael indicated to Ginger "You have all met Ginger; she is in charge of the people here. We are co-leaders of sorts. If you have a question about life here ask her first. If you have any ideas to help this colony succeed I'll be the person you come too. Any questions?"
No one moved. "Good," Michael nodded with finality. "Now to introduce you to the other people here that you should know. Don't worry everyone will have a chance to introduce themselves in person." Michael pointed to some of the community members and said their names; Thomas tried to digest everything but gave up.
Thomas's eyes landed on Rachel, under the white light of the room her hair which normally appeared dark red glowed fiery, it stopped him cold. She smiled and gave the crowd a small wave. "Our apothecary" If you need something for a headache, stomach ache you know minor things see her. Anything major, see Kevin first. Their cabins are right next to each other. Rachel is not a doctor so don't go looking for medical attention from her."
"Now down to our mission," Michael said. "Most everyone in the project was rejected by WICKED for some reason or another but we are all immune to the Flare. This colony is far from the scorch and WICKED headquarters so hopefully we never meet either element."
"The "Survivors Initiative" or SI for short, we are one of eight ultra-top secret colonies set up thought out the inhabitable world. As a community we are responsible for our day to day lives tending to the majority of our own needs, we grow most of our own food, butcher our own meat, make most of our own clothes, built our own dwellings and tend to our own livestock. We do have regular contact with SI headquarters that send monthly rations of medicines, foods we cannot prepare here. Ammunitions, building supplies etc. No you cannot ask SI to send you a TV or your mommy or anything else. They are only available to make sure we survive."
Some people giggled nervously but most nodded in understanding. Once again their lives depended on the mysterious "others". Thomas shifted uncomfortably. He looked at Minho whose jaw was working furiously.
"After each harvest we send a ration of our good to SI to help maintain the facility there. Each of you will be assigned to a work detail; first to decide where your strengths are or what you enjoy the most. First however we will need several more building crews. We have more people then cabins. We don't like having so many people in the dorms so the sooner everyone is in cabins the happier I'll be. If you are bunking with others you will be the last to be assigned cabins. It's just the way it will be for now. Every one aside for a few will have to pull a cycle of guard duty. We are crank free and hope to stay that way. Most cranks who find themselves outside the scorch usually can't make it this far before the disease takes them but we have had, on occasion, sighted one out and about. Everyone will be assigned a weapon of your choice. You are responsible for it carry it with you every time you leave that gate."
Michael finished rather abruptly and turned the information giving to Ginger. Ginger was tall and thin, long mousy brown hair shot with grey at the temples. She looked like she could be just about anyone mother, she carried herself proudly intelligence sparkled behind her slate blue eyes.
"I'm Ginger; I'm in charge of the people here. I'm also a psychiatrist. If you need anything at all or just to talk come to me please." She smiled comfortingly to the crowd. "Our mission here isn't merely to survive, we and the other colonist around the world were sent out to reproduce, repopulated the planet. We are all immune to the Flare, the naturally selected people. SI is here to make sure we stay alive but it is up to us to make sure we do it comfortably as possible."
"We encourage you all to make friends, find lovers. When I said we need your DNA I wasn't lying. We are the smallest of all the Colonies and after speaking to the Chancellor she specifically intend you all to come here, become one with us. Why she chose this colony I don't know. I understand some of you might have reservations," She looked pointedly at Minho and Thomas. "Give us one full season if you still aren't comfortable we will provide you with the supplies you need to live out in the wilds no questions asked nothing is expected. You will be welcomed back if you choose to return."
Ginger glanced over at Michael then back to the crowd. "Men, your main focus here is making sure the work is done, people are secure and babies are made. Girls your jobs are similar to the men's' there is no sexism here. You are expected to perform tasks equally as the men until you are a mother that is your main focus. Even if the man who fathered your child isn't there to assist you in raising it you will have everything you need to provide for it successfully. Children are precious in this colony; life is precious in this colony. No one will ever be forced to reproduce this isn't a breeding colony however everyone is expected to contribute to the gene pool. SI has an excellent artificial insemination and in vitro fertilization program. If you want to provide specimens but not necessarily have the children they will gladly take donations. "Ginger finished with a smile.
"One more thing, this community and SI only provide for your needs you will have plenty of food, clothes and a warm bed anything extra is up to you. We have a barter system in place there will not now or ever be a monetary system. I suggest everyone find a lucrative hobby."
Michael stepped back up to the front, "No one will ever marry here. We don't restrict coupling we need the gene pool as wide as possible, or do we restrict permanent relationships. Everyone is free to live their own lives within the structure of the social colony as a whole. We understand that bonds form between people; some may wish that their chosen partner only chose them however it doesn't always work out that way. This is a reality we have to live with. Fighting over partners is absolutely forbidden. Jealous behavior is frowned upon and any actions taken against another person for whatever slight you might feel with be reprimanded swiftly. There will be no questions asked no trial just punishment. We need to be as tolerant and cooperative as possible to survive."
Michael took his time looking pointedly at everyone in the room. "Ginger will take the females and explain the details while I hand out work assignment for the men. Are there any questions?" Thomas watched as the girls filed out behind Ginger. Thomas was assigned to the supply detail, Minho to the builders and surprise Frypan ended up in the kitchen. He smiled as he slapped Minho in the back. "Have fun out in the freezing cold."
"Have fun working seven days a week," Minho replied with a snarky sneer.
The supply depot was an underground cavern the size of a warehouse. Bare bulbs in small metal cages lined each row of locked metal cages reaching from floor to ceiling. The supply depot carried just about everything imaginable. Thomas introduced himself to Carrie; she was in her mid-twenties Thomas guessed, tall a bit on the stocky side with pale blonde hair and hazel eyes. She bustled around the warehouse directing stock and people as she tried to explain to Thomas what his duties were. By the end of the tour he still hadn't a clue what he was expected to do, but Carrie send him out with Fernando for more practical job training.
Fernando was maybe a few years older than him, dark-skinned but spoke with a thick Hispanic accent. "Hey Amigo," He said jovially. He gave a more detailed guide of the warehouse and directions on what exactly was expected of him.
"Man, I heard you are bunking with Rachel," Fernando said as they walked back toward the supply office. "You one lucky SOB, I tell you what, I'd hit that." Thomas wasn't really sure what he meant so he just nodded but didn't say anything.
"Me and some mejos have a running bet to see who could land that chica between the sheets. Man, she's colder than a witch's titty." Fernando complained. "Plus no one is loco enough to touch her with her mucho grande amigo around." This conversation has taken a turn Thomas didn't like.
"Maybe she's smart," Thomas said innocently. Fernando looked at Thomas suspiciously for a second then shrugged. "Whatever, she doesn't know what she's missing."
"I'm sure she hasn't a clue." Thomas agreed. They returned to the office.
"Food rations are going out tomorrow," Carrie announced everyone groaned. "Quiet everyone! Thomas you go with Wayne to the meat locker. Wave Wayne," A large pimply boy waved, "Get him the gear." Carrie disappeared into the office again.
"See you 'round hombre," Fernando said sauntering off to his next assignment. Wayne was quiet which suited Thomas just fine after Fernando. He gave Thomas the job of throwing frozen chickens into wooden crates that flew by on metal rolling assembly line. After 7 hours with an hour-long break for lunch Thomas's whole body hurt. His hands and feet felt like blocks of ice and if he never saw a frozen chicken again he'd be happy.
He and the rest of the crew took the elevator to the door leading to the community center and out of the building. It seemed to Thomas the entire group moved toward the wash-house. Sounds echoed off the white tiled walls magnifying conversations, the splash of water against the floors slamming of metal against metal. The rooms were warm and steamy. Twenty-four individual small rooms lined the outside walls of the locker room so the occupants were given complete privacy. A small dressing room separate from the real shower stall for dressing and undressing in private. The warm shower felt good on his sore muscles warmed him to the bone. His change of clothes in his locker consisted of grey flannel lounge pants and a long-sleeved black flannel shirt, thick wool socks kept his feet warm. He combed his hair put his coat and stocking cap on tossed his laundry bag over his shoulder and headed home.