[seven]
[Gabriel has been quiet these past few days, either going to work or puttering around in his new and small, but growing, vegetable garden. He hasn't picked up the phone, nor has he walked much at all. He's been absent from the library and the pub as well, preferring to spend time with himself and a glass of store-bought wine and a book.]
[The flu scare disturbed him, more than he cared to admit. It took him some time to come to the conclusion that the deaths in the town had to be faked; here they were, alive again. It was a damn finely crafted and painful lie, a taste of what could happen if someone fought back, but it had been an illusion. The only thing that never changed were the drones. Sure, people brought from their own homeworlds replaced them, and yes, some of those same people ended up drones themselves, but in truth they never changed. That was the true fear, there. Brainwashing was temporary. The drones were a constant. Perhaps when they disappeared they went home...? He hoped so, but the small, pessimistic bit of his brain refused to believe it.]
[Finally, one evening after working in the garden and cleaning up, he settled down on the couch with a cup of tea and a book. The phone caught his eye, and he figured why not? It had been a while since he'd come out of his hobbit hole.]
[What he got was an earful of different languages, most of them Japanese. He caught a phrase here and there, but he was mostly lost. It was one of the many he'd meant to learn, as the Underground had talked about spreading overseas and beyond, but it never got past the 'good intent' phase. He'd been too busy.]
[English!] And here I assumed everyone spoke English. ... heh. Is this the extent of their buggery this time?
[Because, you know, last time half the people here died.]
[The flu scare disturbed him, more than he cared to admit. It took him some time to come to the conclusion that the deaths in the town had to be faked; here they were, alive again. It was a damn finely crafted and painful lie, a taste of what could happen if someone fought back, but it had been an illusion. The only thing that never changed were the drones. Sure, people brought from their own homeworlds replaced them, and yes, some of those same people ended up drones themselves, but in truth they never changed. That was the true fear, there. Brainwashing was temporary. The drones were a constant. Perhaps when they disappeared they went home...? He hoped so, but the small, pessimistic bit of his brain refused to believe it.]
[Finally, one evening after working in the garden and cleaning up, he settled down on the couch with a cup of tea and a book. The phone caught his eye, and he figured why not? It had been a while since he'd come out of his hobbit hole.]
[What he got was an earful of different languages, most of them Japanese. He caught a phrase here and there, but he was mostly lost. It was one of the many he'd meant to learn, as the Underground had talked about spreading overseas and beyond, but it never got past the 'good intent' phase. He'd been too busy.]
[English!] And here I assumed everyone spoke English. ... heh. Is this the extent of their buggery this time?
[Because, you know, last time half the people here died.]