As Secretary of Agriculture for Washington—or The United Tribes—or The WISE North America Project—I had the honor of mucking stalls on occasion. I’d initially been living out of the Heavy Hawk but there was no amount of re-arranging the bedroom to accommodate 2, even for the occasional sleepover. So I moved into the “Governor’s Mansion”; a 2-story ranch house that bunked about 40 people now that electricity was working.

Camile, me, and Stalker shared the bedroom attached to the ground floor “sitting room” that had been turned into her office. The smell of woodsmoke from a retrofitted stove still lingered even though electric heat had been working for over 3 months.

“Abi,” Camile said. “Start message to Robbie—do me a favor, move your firing range, or don’t start so early in the morning. Over.”

I yawned and reached for the tablet. Camile handed it to me reluctantly.

“Abi, can you give me some white noise?” I asked.

“I could, but your five A-M alarm would be chiming in just another few minutes.”

“Shit,” I said.

Camile rolled over and took the tablet back. “Would you play me some white noise, dear?”

“Yes, dear,” Abi said.

“That seems a little unfair. I gotta go clean stalls and you get to sleep in?”

Camile closed her eyes but her cheeks revealed a smile.

A light static hiss emitted from the tablet that both covered up noise and canceled sounds in real-time.

I crawled out of bed and got dressed. As I leaned down to kiss her forehead, I faintly heard the sound of snoring over the hiss.

I plucked the earpiece off the tablet and crept out the door—quiet for the sake of the few sleeping on mats in the office.

The snow had melted leaving the graveled path to the barn muddy. It was a different dampness than the humidity I had been used to on my farmstead. It took months to name the difference: “crispness”. My nose was hypersensitive to the smells. Body odor, wood smoke, grease smoke, forest soil, foul breath, and—on the ranch—horse.

I found my helper already at work with a fork.

“Mornin’, Dan. I brought you coffee,” I said and raised a thermos.

He pointed the stall fork’s handle at me. “Thanks. I’ll trade you.”

I set the bottles on a bench and put work gloves on. “Is the motion getting to you?”

“Nah,” Dan said. “I think it’s pretty much healed up. Griff is just using it as an excuse to keep me out of training.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right. I’d still like to get you to Tesla for a few semesters of schooling. Oh, and to Conference. That would keep you out of training too.”

“You’ll have to convince my mom. I’m sold.”

I shook some bedding loose from manure and tossed the poop into the wheelbarrow. “I’ll talk to her next time she comes by the mansion.”

It took the better part of the morning to finish all the stalls.

We crossed the interstate road pushing the wheelbarrows over grass-filled cracks and around upheaved sections. Occasionally the hum of drones working out of sight, low in the field, could be heard over the rustle of green wheat stalks. We dumped the manure at the edge of a steaming compost pile and headed back to the barn to return the wheelbarrows.

“Liam,” Abi said. “Commander Escobar is calling Camile to loop her in on a radio call. He wants to loop you in too. I can connect you.”

“Connect us—Rob, I’m on.”

“Camile, Liam. I’m talking to someone on the ham. They want refuge. One male, three females. Cam, can you get a welcome package set up and lodging?”

“Sure. When can we expect them?”

“They think they’re about ten clicks East. Liam, can we swing over and pick them up in the bird?”

Dan and I had stopped on the old road and he watched me as I talk to myself. “Certainly. I’ll get it prepped.”

“I’ll let them know and work out landmarks for pickup. Cam, arrival is flexible but I’m thinking we can get this all underway by fourteen-hundred hours.”

“Roger,” Camile and I said and we disconnected.

“Dan, I gotta go. Can you get this tub back to the barn too?”

“Sure,” he said and lifted the wheelbarrow onto the other. “Excitement?”

“Newcomers.”

He smirked. “If there are any girls my age, invite me to the reception dinner.”

“I’d invite you either way. You need to work on your people skills if you’re gonna be an elder someday.”

Dan’s smirk turned to a mock grimace. “Right.”

# dictation interruption #

“Why are you sad, dear?” Liam asks.

Abigail stands simply as herself, no character or costume, arms held crossing herself. “I wish I could have spent more time with you like this; before everything changed.”