It was Allison’s turn to wake everyone up apparently, and the sadistic bitch decided the gray smudge of false dawn was enough to warrant that. She stood in the middle of the keep, where the smooth rock walls of the cave acted as an acoustic chamber to boost her voice into echoes and busted out some old fashioned Dolly.

“Good morning, morning. Wake up sleepyhead, I’m the happiest girl, in the whole USA.”

I felt both happy I had decided to start working on my own place as well as darkly considering murder as she continued to sing, slightly off key, at the top of her voice. John cheered and Steve clapped when she finished her song, and I staggered outside to take a piss thinking uncharitable thoughts. All was forgiven when I made it back to the camp, because we had bacon for breakfast.

Without a supply of salt, it didn’t taste quite like store bought bacon but it was still worth getting up in the morning for. There was another discussion about the chances of mining natural deposits of salt versus buying it in the store, but nothing got resolved. Frankly, I thought we needed somebody who had a clue about geology to tell us if we were wasting before we started prospecting these cliffs looking for salt or gold or whatever. Nobody was doing anything about it today, anyway. Everyone had pretty much picked there project for today the night before. John was keeping the smokehouse fed and working on building its replacement again today. All three of the women had joined in to get the solar shower project going. Steve was planning on transplanting a bunch of the not-onions up here, as well as something everyone was calling lemon grass that had a citrusy smell and acidic taste. People kept trying stuff that smelled or looked familiar and I wondered how long it would be before someone wound up dead trying that shit. Then again, this was a game world, so I guess it was possible that they made everything that seemed appealing edible. Hunter had a map from Debbie and he was going out to check and hopefully reset the traps from yesterday. I was curious where they got the paper for the map until I realized it had been written with charcoal on a piece of thin bark. I made a mental note to offer a couple pages out of my notebook to Debbie next time we talked.

With the extra hands work went a lot faster on the solar shower. Allison and Jeri lashed together a framework of supports to hold the tub. I’d told her to go for sturdy, but if anything the uprights she’d put in were overengineered. She’d used four or five inch diameter logs as her uprights, and there were at least a dozen of them along the perimeter. Debbie swiped one of my chisels and worked on increasing the amount of water that could be held in my trough, while I carved out the rest of the sides. I ended up splitting the difference between a dovetail and a mortise and tenon in my joints, putting in a groove that ran almost the length of the side. I was pretty sure once it held water the wood would swell up and lock everything into place and seal any gaps. I tried my best to match up the pieces close enough it wouldn’t be necessary, but knew I didn’t have the skill to do the perfect fit by hand that a real artisan would have. Our water tub was probably close to a hundred gallons or so by the time Debbie put a round hole in the center and I started coating the seams with some of that sap I’d warmed up over a small fire.

“That stuff smells familiar, Jack. What is it?”

“Uh, creosote, sort of. It doesn’t look like the right kind of tree but it smells like creosote so I hope it works the same way.”

“Okay. I get the whole solar shower thing, we had a black plastic one we took camping when I was a kid, but I’ve got question about your setup, Jack.”

“Shoot.”

“How are you going to get this tub up on top of their platform? This isn’t exactly an empty plastic rain barrel.”

I shrugged. “Whole lot of cussing I’d imagine.”

In the end it took more than that. We went and grabbed John, Hunter, and Steve to help with the lifting. Even with that, we had had to make a primitive block and tackle by carving a notch into the end of a 20 foot log and bracing it up next to the supports before we could drag the trough high enough to set it into place on the supports the girls had made. It was weird to tackle a construction project without even the winch off the front of your humvee to move stuff around. Jeri and Allison were working to hollow out a log to act as the pipe, while Debbie carved a plug in the end of a long stick so we could turn the shower on and off from underneath. Instead of the fancy pivot I’d envisioned, we just tied the pipe to the rim of the tub with a couple straps of leather. I put in a timber hitch running in both directions, so it held the pipe in place while still letting it flop up and down. A big block of wood fit down over the end of the pipe to act as our float, and the solar shower was together. Everyone just stared at it after I finished tying the last bit off.

“It’s not doing anything.”

I gave Allison an irritated look but Jeri spoke before I could.

“Cause the water from our ‘pipe’ is just a trickle. It’ll probably take a couple hours to fill up enough the float will angle the pipe down and turn off the pipe. Then after that I don’t know how long to warm up enough to use.”

Debbie pulled a big ass blue tarp out of her fanny pack and shook it out with a snap.

“I don’t care if it’s not hot. I’m looking forward to a real shower instead of just sponge baths. I’m even willing to donate my ground sheet as a shower curtain so we have some privacy.”

As she fastened one corner to the edge of the supports and wrapped the tarp around, her face lit up. She spun around and caught me up in a big hug that felt surprisingly good. I stood there awkwardly, not quite sure where to put my hands and she stepped back laughing at the look on my face.

“We got a notification. Bath house level three, with 1 improvement point an hour. We also get a free upgrade.”

Everybody cheered and Jeri and I exchanged a high 5. Why this qualified for an upgrade and the keep didn’t, and the first smokehouse got nothing at all, made zero sense to me. For a moment I wished that Tim were here so I could ask him, as he seemed to understand this game thing better than I did. The mini-celebration died down as Debbie told us our options.

“We can go with temperature control, water pressure, or structure durability.”

I called out, “Durability” but was immediately outvoted with a wave of calls for temperature control. It was one sided enough Debbie didn’t bother opening up for debate, just made the choice on the notification. The bottom of the tub blurred and a second later there was some kind of brass piping coming out where the plug had been. There was a cheap plastic knob with blue and red lines on it affixed to the side of the brass fixture. The cheap walmart faucet handle looked incongruous with the steampunk style brass fitting, but everyone was happy to see it. Fully clothed Debby stepped forward and opened the tap and a trickle of warm water spattered out.

“Still have to fill the tank before there’s going to be any pressure, guys.” She called to the rest of us while she closed the tap. Jeri immediately cleared her throat and waved her hands for everyone’s attention.

“As part of the original hygiene team, I call dibs on first shower.” Debbie and Allison both called “Second” at roughly the same time and Debbie sighed.

“Okay, executive order. Jeri gets first, then Jack, they did most of the work. After that it’s first come first served, and try not to completely empty the tank. I don’t know how many people we’ll be able to get through in a day because I can’t tell how fast the tank is filling. When we get more information on how long it takes to refill we can come up with a rota. Maybe shower every other day, or every third day if we have to. Everyone okay with that?”

When everyone nodded, or at least didn’t speak up to complain Debbie clapped her hands in a that’s that kind of gesture. “It’s not quite midday yet, but piling on a task like finishing the shower seemed to work pretty well. Since everyone’s here and already put off their own business, I propose we kick down and finish off the smokehouse with Jim as a group.”

“With folks hauling rock and mixing mortar while the rest of us build, it’d go a hell of a lot faster.” John said.

Nobody suggested an alternative, and we all started back across to the keep. I wandered over by Debbie while we walked and bumped her with my shoulder.

“What’s up, Jack?”

“If you want, I’ll spot you my slot at the shower.”

“If you’re trying to tell me you’re not smelly, I’ve got some bad news for you, Jack.”

“Not exactly a rose yourself, woman. Why do you think I’m offering? Actually, I was trying to be a gentleman.”

“Did it hurt? I appreciate the offer, Jack, but it wouldn’t be fair to Allison. I don’t want it to seem like I’m taking advantage cause I’m the boss.”

“Hell, you’re not the boss of me. The offer was based mostly on your looks, but I understand your decision. Offer stands if you change your mind.”

I veered off to the other side of the group before she had a chance to respond. I couldn’t help but grin, pleased to finally get the last word in a conversation with Debbie. John had already done a ton of work to the the new smokehouse. He still had the fire in a hole in the ground you could feed from underneath the walls without going in the building, but it also had a hole going in on the other side too so it would do a better job of pulling in air. He had some posts leaned up against the wall of the cliff to use as roof joists when he’d finished the walls, and he’d already started on shelves built into the room itself. The front wall already had a big timber in place as a lintel where the door would go, and if the rest of the wall hadn’t reached that level yet, it was up at least waist high all the way around.

It was pretty obvious what needed doing, and everyone kind of fell to without a whole lot of talking. Pretty soon everybody was in a rhythm and conversation started back up as we worked. Jeri and Hunter were discussing the house they were planning to build, and there was enough saccharine new couple cuteness to it, even John poked fun at them a couple of times. Allison had seen the tracks of something big in the woods, and folks spent a little while trying to predict what was out there. I didn’t have enough information to make a relevant guess, but I sincerely hoped whoever designed this game had a less diabolical imagination than the people I was working with, because they suggested some doozies.

Debbie suggested rigging up a block and tackle again when we got to the roof, but Hunter and I managed to just muscle the beams up into place where John was straddling the wall to line them up. Once we had a solid foundation to the roof we made a chain and started passing baskets of dirt up for John to dump. It hadn’t really rained since we’d been here and as long as it didn’t come down too hard before the grass plugs we’d tossed up there spread, it ought to give a weather tight roof. John had left fist sized gaps in the wall up near the top for moisture and eventually smoke to get out, but he’d left the roof timbers long enough to give an eave to cover it. After the structure was built, John took a wall off the old primitive smokehouse to use as a door, and we hung it with leather hinges.

John straightened up and beamed at us once the door was in place. “We got the notification for a Smokehouse. It’s worth a half an improvement point a day, but hasn’t leveled yet. If ya’ll will start carrying the meat over, I’ll get the fire laid.”

We transferred the stuff already in the smokehouse and some of the stuff that wasn’t. The bear had gone off by this point, and I dragged the rest of the carcass away from the keep while Hunter tried salvaging the last shreds of meat on the boar. By the time I came back the new smokehouse was in full swing, and Steve had some kind of stew with lemon grass, onions, and bear meat sitting on the fire.

It was at least something new to taste, even if it wasn’t particularly good. Jeri finished hers first and left, excited to try out the new shower. Hunter went with her even though it was out of order, but nobody said anything for obvious reasons. John told me he’d found a place for a garden plot, but he was going to build an irrigation ditch before he bothered turning it over. I offered to help because I had an investment in the garden too, but John turned me down. He’d already roped Steve into it and a third shovel would just get in the way. That sounded wrong to me somehow, but I just shrugged. I’d have enough shoveling to do on my own project I wouldn’t go hunting for more. Allison and Debbie were hanging out at the keep and crafting. Allison was the source of most of the wicker basket things we’d been using, and she had Debbie had plans for a more ambitious version of wicker trade goods they wanted to experiment with.

I walked off down to my place to pick up where I left off yesterday, digging in and filling my gambions. It was a monotonous job just blindly working a shovel. I was probably in the best shape of my life at this point, low calories and hard work had trimmed a little of the beer gut I’d started to develop in my thirties, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Working that shovel still took a toll on my hands and back, but I kept up a steady pace and let my mind wander. I’d build my little underground house here, taking my time and finishing with a product hopefully good enough to snag a couple of upgrades and some serious improvement points. If I was stuck in this world long term I wanted some place comfortable to spend my time. Assuming John’s farm worked out I had an XP drain there, and would only be able to spend some of my points on stuff for me in the short term. I needed to come up with some kind of trade good the folks in the village would want. The crabadillo bracers I made earlier came to mind. I hadn’t really tried them on yet, but I could probably make armor and sell it back in the village. There was no way I’d be able to make stuff as good as what you could buy from the XP store though. The kind of high labor, low skill products I could churn out in the short term were a losing proposition. I needed something innovative so I could get a better return on my investment.

How do you transfer civil engineering skills into a lucrative trade in a preindustrial society? Nobody was going to pay me to build a bridge or dig a well around here, at least not anytime soon. As much time as we’d spent trapping furs, I’m sure they were doing something similar back in the village, and I didn’t expect much demand for them when we went back. I needed something that was either so easy to produce I could underbid the XP store and sell a ton of them, or something that would be prohibitively expensive in the XP store that I could keep a hefty profit margin on. I couldn’t think of anything that fit those criteria, but resolved to keep any eye out for an opportunity as I moved forward in the game.

I’d taken my shirt off because the constant digging had me sweating like a whore in church, and as I finished filling the last gabion I realized I was filthy. I used the back of my hand to try and clear a swathe of mud off of my chest and when I saw the back of my arm afterward I had an idea. It’d been a long time since I’d sat through a class on load bearing properties of various soils and how to design footers, but the mud triggered a memory. Soil, even the real sandy stuff, has a clay content. Theoretically we could mix up some muddy water, the sand and rock would fall out of suspension first and then we could strain the rest of the liquid and end up with fairly pure clay. I didn’t know how much soil it would take to get a decent amount of fireable clay, but I would bet there was a market in the village for ceramics. I’d never really played with clay before but I was betting somebody in our group had, I’d have to look into getting a side hustle going with that someone kind of like I had with John.

Now that I had a plan in place, I headed back up to the keep, mildly excited by the possibilities but possibly ecstatic over the chance to take a shower.