Since the Reclamation, she’d done well for herself. Having prospered under the deposed Negative Rulers, she was offered a high clerical status in exchange for her public personal compliance. Now, she worked daily at her vaguely purposeless job. Her performance critiques were good, and she was able to move freely in the regional residential zone and enjoy status perqs.
Mostly, she lived in solitude. Everything about her was neat, controlled and thorough. Her hair fell in thick, groomed waves to her shoulders. Her clothes were neatly pressed. She enjoyed a dinner with friends once a week, but had yet to collect a week long recreation perq in the 20 months since the Reclamation Order had restored functionality to the economic platform.
Today, Friday, she finished work and cleared her work station. Several of her co-contributors were laughing loudly over plans to repeat a previous week’s unrestrained adult license recreation period. As she came around the corner, Davis (300) M, the regional production area responder, stopped her.
“Please say you’ll join us this week?” if hollow eyes could beg, that’s what his would be doing.
She managed to keep her cringe inside, “I have plans this evening. Thank you, for inviting me. Perhaps, we can plan something with the whole group on an afternoon this Autumn?”
“That’s a great idea,” his disappointment didn’t stay inside, but he didn’t mock, “We’ll miss you tonight, though.”
It was still awkward, but at least it was over. She never stayed late, but hurried home to the Unmarried Residential Unit District.
Home was her haven. Having a preferred status, she’d been allowed to keep those things that she wished to have and store. The inside of her RU was a step back in time. 5 years ago seemed an eternity, but her place was a journey back into eras and generations long since dishonored by their failure to systematize. When sentiment and individuality reigned and personal determination ran the civilization, no matter how inefficiently.
Tonight, she would bake a chicken and read from books handed down from her mother and grandmother. The aroma would reach Willis (150) Q, and she’d be down the stairs to ‘chat’ until the chicken was gone. With Willis fed and gone, she’d return to her memories- her comforts.
She knew they’d be important. She knew she must stay connected. She knew it would matter that she kept it all.
She just didn’t know how quickly it would happen.