[CLOSED] People are like plants; we all lean toward the light.

[markwatney]

WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: South Village Inn
WHEN: 30 November 2018
OPEN TO: ALL - Closed to new threads
WARNINGS: n/a

---

I think it's probably fair to say that this past month turned out to be a real doozy, and not necessarily in the sort of ways any of us might have expected.

A lot of people got sick — Very sick — and I was one of them. Truthfully, I've only started feeling 100% these past couple of days, although part of that is on me: I don't do well with being stuck in bed, especially when it's the end of the final growing season of the year and we're looking down the barrel of winter. I'm sure I wasn't the only person pushing myself when I probably shouldn't have, but hey, we're all feeling better now, right? Full steam ahead and all that.

And we're kinda gonna need to be full steam ahead, because the last couple of months have outstripped even our contingency numbers for new arrivals. We've gotten a bunch of new people, and did I mention winter is almost here? Because winter is almost here, and I'm starting to wonder how we're going to keep everybody fed if we maintain this rate of newbies.

A little earlier, I popped into the storehouse, took a gander at Gaius's numbers. Currently I'm seated at one of the tables in the front room of the South Village inn, mouth pressed against my knuckles as I consider notations in a little notebook open in front of me.

We'll make it through regardless; we've done it under worse circumstances before. But if we're going to get ahead of this wave, we've got to do it now. And I can't do it by myself.

I twist my hand away, type out a message on my smart watch:

Impromptu confab on making our food stores stretch for the winter. If you've got time and/or ideas, pop by the inn and see me.

Comments

[nonstopnarcissist]

Eggs, bread, milk, flour. Three constants for cooking and baking to stretch things along and of that mix Tony's got a steady source of, well, two. Eggs (thank you Clint for the fucking chickens, they are spoiled shits), flour from being around the mill constantly. Milk he'd need to find livestock for and bread means a baker but- this is resource management. Less metal and parts and more consumables and rate of consumption, but it's familiar enough math. So. Tony makes the hike out to the Inn with a notebook of math under one arm and a first attempt at a thermos (double walled insulation is a bitch on test casting, film at 11) under the other.

"I'm pretty sure with the chickens Barton left-" He opens with that before anything else as he slides in across from Mark, straight to business, it's easier. "and he left a mess of them behind, more than my household or most households can keep up with, that's a viable source of protein as long as they keep laying. As long as the river doesn't freeze over the mill's good for grinding grain but- does it freeze over? That'd slow shit down considerably."

[markwatney]

I don't really know Tony, but it's not exactly correct to say I know of Tony, either, because that puts him in the same category as a lot of people here. He was notorious from the moment he came in, apparently almost dying, and just kept building on his infamy from there. I don't think there's anybody here who doesn't know Tony.

I just go with it.

"Here's the rub," I reply, closing my notebook as I lean forward, elbows on the table, "we haven't technically weathered a winter here yet, none of us. I don't know how much you know about what happened last April, but the prevailing theory—" Or at least my own prevailing theory— "is that we were in a simulation. My best guess is it was preparatory, but who really knows. It looked almost identical to where we are now, at least within the confines of the villages, and for the most part it functioned essentially the same. The weather is more logic-based here than it was there. So what I can say is, last winter, the edges of the river froze up, but that the mill could probably be functional if the ice was broken up daily. The mill wasn't working then. But it's all just an educated guess."

I flip a hand in a pseudo-shrug. "It would be nice to have it, because funnily enough, I don't think protein is going to be the issue."

[nonstopnarcissist]

"Right, the blip in the matrix before everyone got human luged up to the fountain." Sort of a reverse matrix dismount if he remembers correctly. Still that's- something to consider. A simulation might be more or less forgiving. Handling that could be problematic. But any data at all is better than no data, so he takes the note offered and adds it to the list of growing concerns. "Mill's working pretty well now and we've definitely got enough muscle that will be bored that ought to be willing to take a shift breaking up the ice to keep it from freezing up on us entirely. Clearing paths will also need to be a thing- I've got rough designs for a forward mounted quadruped snow plow rig. Strap it to your beast of burden of choice, take 'em on a walk."

So that's two concerns.

"We've got plenty of hunters- and I think everyone's got some root vegetables squirreled away for personal use. Then there's the Corn from the masquerade, stored grain- how are crops in the greenhouse looking?" Regulating that shouldn't be difficult but- some people have a habit of food hoarding. He drums his fingers against the tabletop, focus snapping from the middle distance to Mark proper, zeroed in on him.

[markwatney]

"Well, it depends." I'd opened my mouth in the middle there to add input, then decided it would probably be best to let him get it all out first. "My primary concern right now is number of mouths we're having to feed. Because when we planted in the spring, we figured in a pretty stout buffer even beyond accounting for new people coming in. But the last few months, that number has been rising each month, well beyond what has been normal for us, and while disappearances suck, the fact remains that we don't have as many people leaving, either. They used to be roughly comparable. We didn't know back in March to expect a net fifteen or so people every month."

It's an odd thing, really, the slow build-up and then it seeming like the floodgates have been opened. Because we have had the housing capacity the whole time. But I digress.

"With foraging, we can make it stretch. Our very first winter, we were worse off and we got through it. We've got some people who are very good at keeping everyone fed on very little. But I don't want to be there again, and we have an opportunity, a slim one, to get ahead of it." I tap a fingertip to the tabletop. "We have the greenhouse. I'm in the process of shifting it from specialty plants to staples, but that's limited capacity regardless. I was actually thinking about the possibility of setting something up down south where it's more temperate, but that's a heck of a haul."

[nonstopnarcissist]

"We set up somewhere near the river...depending on the distance and if I can make enough chain or rope or whatever? We could conceivably rig a cable ferry connected to the mill." He'd been thinking about something like that for awhile anyway. It shouldn't be difficult to set up on a small scale for testing but- again. Distance is a factor.

Materials are a factor.

He'd have to build something on the front of a ferry to crack the ice or include a sledgehammer to break it, which might be easier to swing in the longrun. Automation is well and good but they have manpower. Might as well use it. "Could be doable. We've got enough people willing to scout, and more than a few that wouldn't mind clearing fields. Set up some kind of temporary camp wherever you're thinking so it's not a constant back and forth, organize shifts in farming?"

[markwatney]

"It's hard work, but we'll get volunteers." We always do, to my constant amazement. People willing to be on their knees in the dirt, no gloves, hot sun, pulling weeds... They always show up. "Better if we can get more, rotate the shifts out in coordination with the ferry trips. Even with a few people with you, the isolation can be difficult." I arch a knowing eyebrow. "Maybe a week at a time. But yeah, that would work, and we can do it in tandem with increased foraging, at least before the ground freezes."

I pause, leaning back in my chair as I consider everything we'd need to get something this big up and working quickly and safely.

"So we need the timber, the rope made, then a team to install the rope along the river, which can be done at the same time as building the ferry. An advance team to clear a spot for fields, build shelters. Getting the seedlings together won't take long, most things I've already got some going or ready to go." I flick a glance up to Tony. "At least a month, unless you know something I don't."

[locum_tenens]

If there's one person that Niska feels duty-bound to keep an eye on, it's Mark. He's the only one who actually knows what she is, but at the same time, he also helped to save her from a drowning death that she would have hated. Still, that doesn't clear her suspicions, so she keeps an eye on him.

When she sees the message, she's grateful for the opportunity, though slightly amused at the humanity of this problem. It's one she won't have to worry about. If the whole village starves and freezes over the winter, then she just gets more peace and quiet. In her hoodie, jeans, and her blue contacts in, she strolls up to Mark, hands in her pocket.

"How much trouble are you in?"

[markwatney]

Of all the people who could walk in here, I'm really glad to see Niska. Which probably sounds weird when you consider she's a robot who, in the worst case scenario, would outlive us all when we starved to death. But it makes her the sort of impartial that I'm not going to get from even the most jaded person here, and that helps her see clearly.

"Depends," I reply, leaning back in my seat as I look up to her. "I'm sure you've noticed the new arrivals have ticked up. If it slacks off, we'll be okay with what we've currently got. If it doesn't..." I give her a wry smile.

[locum_tenens]

She raises her brow, lips curved mildly upwards at the way he trails off. It's not funny that they're going to die off from starvation, but she finds it amusing that of all things, the need for food will inevitably take them out. Of all the developments the geniuses of the world went to, starvation was not the top one.

Orange Eyes and a way to create more slaves had clearly been top of mind. Niska settles into the chair directly opposite him, hands on the table. "You could force people onto rations to be sure," she says, though she also knows that it lacks generosity and kindness. "The greater good would also most likely appreciate a second, secret location to grow more that the larger populace isn't aware of, so as to ward off theft if things grow too desperate."

[markwatney]

"We've been on rations before," I reply. "Voluntarily. We could make it through, I think, but it wasn't fun and I'd rather not repeat it."

It always surprises me a little how naturally Niska's mind — Or processor, I suppose — leaps toward negative conclusions. She's not talked much about her life before this place, but I think it's probably safe to assume that if the people who programmed her weren't deeply cynical, she herself learned somehow that humans are inherently terrible.

"I was actually considering a second, not-secret growing location, although I'm not sure we could get it set up and viable in time to be much help this season," I add with a cant of my head. "It's a lot warmer to the south. If it wasn't so impractical, we really should just all move to the south."

[locum_tenens]

This is the sort of thing that she wonders what proper scientists have been working on, instead of the pursuit of household assistive devices. "Have you thought about cross-breeding items to create something far stronger?" she asks, not sure if they have the ability, but vegetables with more vitamins and minerals will surely be a help if they do end up in a position to require it.

In times like these, Niska has to remind herself of Astrid. If Astrid were her, she would need to eat, the same as everyone else. She would want to enjoy her food and not be on rations.

My little rainbow, she hears in her head and her eyes soften, just the slightest bit, as she begins to think of this from a more human perspective. "How do you plan to harvest in the south and avoid spoilage?"

[markwatney]

"I've been working on some things, yeah, trying to get heartier varieties, better yield, things like that," I reply with a nod. "Unfortunately, that's the sort of thing that can take years to really see a result. It's underway, but it doesn't really help us right now."

This is the issue I keep coming back to with coffee. I couldn't tell you how many times people have said to me they wished I could grow some coffee, but if I got some viable cherries or even seedlings, it would be years and years and maybe even more years before we got beans from them that didn't taste like shit. There are good reasons why most people don't grow their own coffee at home.

"We'd have to have a camp down there and probably switch out shifts, maybe weekly," I add. "More during harvest. We'd have to set up a means of transporting stores up and supplies down, too— Which we can do, but it's one more thing on the list."

[fooloftheking]

It's easy to start over in a place where no one, well one person, knows who you are, what you are, and all you've done. It's easy when you have friends, even, people that not only stand by you but also rely on you in some way. It's all led Bobo to using the skills he knows, the ones that helped him a century or so before, so that he can keep those that are becoming his people as much as he might.

So when the message comes through, Bobo is already at the butcher shop, caught up between working on the smokehouse, overseeing the pelts he's curing, as well as working out a way to store brains for zombie girl.

Curious about the message, Bobo took a few minutes to clean up, straightening things up before he left to head to the Inn, seeking out whoever sent the message.

"You the one talking about keeping everyone from starving in the winter?"

[markwatney]

"That would be me," I reply, leaning back with a smile. "Mark."

This guy's name I can't quite remember, although I recognize him in the way I recognize most people after they've been in the village a week or two. I used to make a point to keep up with everyone, but I've got too much to do now, so I leave that to Karen.

"You've been up in the butcher shop," I add, not a question. The lye hopper is behind the shop, and since Helen disappeared, I'm one of the only people making soap for everybody. "Do you hunt or just butcher what other people bring in?"

[fooloftheking]

"Bobo," he says with a nod, sliding into a chair across from Mark. "That's me. It wasn't my profession back in the day, but it's something you learned, especially if you were a bachelor. Funny the things that come back to you."

Not that he's sure he's the best at it, but he's willing and after a few talks with others he's realized that being able to kill and knowing what to do after you've done so isn't the same thing thing.

"Been doing both. I've been setting some snares, mostly up off the northern village where my house is, and a few walks out further trying to bring in larger game. Which is hard with at best an axe that is made for trees and not throwing but do the best you can, right?"

Which is a lot of what this place is, and something his life has always been about.

"Been working on a smokehouse, though won't have time to use it before winter, if I get it done in time," he admits. "And seeing how that red salt does for preserving fish though not sure how edible it'll be."

[markwatney]

"Yeah, that salt was quite possibly sent here directly from Satan's table," I reply with a soft chuckle, and lean forward, arms resting atop the table.

"The reason I ask is because, from what I've seen anyway, it seems like we have plenty of people who know how to hunt, at least marginally, but not a lot of experts on dressing the carcass. You gotta wonder how much viable sustenance we're losing just from that, people not knowing how to cut up a deer, or what to do with the bones, stuff like that."

We had a smokehouse at one point, I think. I forget who built it, maybe Clint. That was early-early days, and we've gotten complacent since then.

"How quickly could you get the smokehouse up and running if you had help?"

[fooloftheking]

"Definitely wakes you up," he admits, though more amused than anything. Thing was, you worked with what you have, and go from there. "Wish I'd ever paid attention on making pemmican though giving it a try. Might not be the most desirable food, but it will get you through a winter."

You might wish you hadn't made it, but survival is the goal as far as Bobo is concerned.

Huffing a sigh, Bobo nods once at that. "Likely wasting a lot. Hides. Brains. Guts. Bones. All of it can be used, and we should be given as little as we've got. No sense relying on the generosity of the observers or whatever like some talk about."

Drumming his fingers against the table, Bobo considers that. "It's not in bad shape. Basic repairs, hanging racks redone. Some have scavenged some of the wood, it looks like, but not that hard to repair. Started with the roof, and it's in decent shape. End of the week if I had the lumber. Splitting logs? Sometime next week."

If he had to start from scratching it would take some time, but it could be done.

"We've got the lumber for it, and I collect kindling bits on my walk on the days I don't just crash in the shop," he admits with a chuckle. "So we have the supplies once it's tight. Not sure about what we have for chinking, though might be able to collect moss and mud for it."

[markwatney]

"Speaking as some one who's been here over two years, evidence points to the people in charge preferring us all alive, but I'm not ready to bet my winter stores on that, either," I agree with a nod and knowing arch of my eyebrows. One thing Bobo may or may not have noticed yet is also the way the people in charge tend to enjoy trolling us — Or testing us like some kind of benevolent heavenly being, if you prefer. The only thing that's for sure about the situation is that nothing's for sure about the situation.

"We have lots of firewood, but not much lumber," I add with a faint pinch of my brow. "Don't have the greatest equipment for it, which obviously you know. But if you put a call out, you might get some bites to at least assist." I offer a wry smile. "At last check, all of us enjoy not starving to death."

[rebornpaladin]

The inn is so far the place Shiro is most familiar with, though he's spend the last day scouting out the empty houses in the village and building up the resolve to claim one. He certainly doesn't need the space, but there are so many people suddenly around, he figures he may as well, so the inn has more space for those more newly arrived.

He's still getting used to everything, and knowing where to start, how to find a way to be useful, that's been the most elusive aspect. It hasn't been ten days, and he's already going stir crazy with idleness, despite the hours a day he's spending traversing the villages, to get a better sense of where he is. Where they all are.

When the notice pops up on his communique, he's only steps from the inn's doors, and looking forward to the fireplace. His gaze falls on a man he doesn't recognize as he crosses the threshold, and heads over without hesitation.

"Hi. That was your message, about the food stores?"

[markwatney]

"It was," I reply, glancing up with a smile. This guy has got to be one of the newer newbies, because I'm not sure I've seen him before. "Mark Watney. Hi." I motion to the adjacent seat, since I have to assume the kid's here to help.

The missing arm doesn't go unnoticed, and I have to wonder how long it'll be before Tony's making a new one for him just for shits and giggles. I've started to wonder when the hell that guy sleeps.

"You have any experience with feeding a large group of people at all?"

[rebornpaladin]

Something about Mark puts Shiro very much at ease, and he absently wonders who it is he's reminded of.

"Takashi Shirogane, but Shiro is fine," he answers, taking the seat opposite with a rueful smile, "and not in any direct way that's applicable here, I'm afraid. I helped organize systems on a larger scale a few times, getting shipments to populations in need, helping to ration and transport resources to refugee flotillas. I was never on the ground in the sense of actually having to grow or store perishable supplies."

[markwatney]

"Hey, don't underestimate the value of efficient logistics," I reply with vague motion Shiro's way. Logistics is essentially what Gaius does with the storehouse, and it's made a huge difference for everybody here.

"So, here's a question for you," I continue, leaning forward with my arms braced atop the table, "if we were to, say, establish a farm to the south, strictly for food production, and set up a means to transport supplies down and the produce back up, that's the sort of thing you've had experience managing before?"

[rebornpaladin]

Technically, Shiro's experience is more in planning defensive convoys to distract, engage, or eliminate enemy fleets that risk the destruction or embargo of those resources, or the planets waiting on receiving them, but that seems a little excessive in the face of the scale they're currently discussing. He nods.

"In space and going extra-planetary distances, but yes, I've organized similar efforts."

It's Sam. Mark reminds Shiro of Sam, and it makes the expression on his face settle from politely friendly to something a touch warmer. The conversation feels familiar, a little, even just a few words in, and it's something Shiro's desperately missed.

Around 12/5 - Post Kira

[succored]

It wasn't uncommon even back home for Ty not to see Kira for days or weeks on end. They both had very different lives, and while Ty had thought it might be different here, it hadn't been. After he'd gotten over his own dose of snake venom, an experience he was keen never to experience again, he'd sought Kira out to make sure he'd been administered the cure. As soon as he was completely sure Kira was fine, there was a near endless set of tasks to do around the hospital. Between helping the sick and keeping their supplies stocked, Ty hadn't had much time to eat and rest, let alone be social.

It wasn't until everything had quieted down that it seemed strange to him that he hadn't even seen a glimpse of Kira for a while. Even if they weren't always in each other's company, Ty would be lying if he said Kira wasn't always held in his periphery.

So after lunch, he headed to Kira's house, knocking on the door and rocking on his heels as he looked around curiously. He swayed back when he heard the door opening, mouth going before he saw who was at the door.

"Hey how are you-" He paused once he turned fully, stopping himself. "Hey. You must be Mark."

Re: Around 12/5 - Post Kira

[markwatney]

The truth is, I've been waiting for that skinny fucker to come back out of the fountain again.

Kira hadn't been living with me at the time he disappeared last, but we'd been friends, even if he hadn't remembered that. The documents that had been discovered down in the bunker would lead you to believe that he'd died, but none of us witnessed it — And I don't know what death even really means in this place anyway, where there's apparently been a multitude of each one of us here before. My personal take at the time was that the people in charge thought he needed a reset — He'd lost some people, gotten moody. Well. More moody. Back then, we didn't even have the scant, horrifying answers we do now.

If they'd reset him once, why wouldn't they do it again?

But it's started to become a little worrying, how long it's taking him to come back. That happens, too, sometimes. Months with people gone. Honestly, I don't know how to even feel about it. This place doesn't make it easy to process loss.

So when I open the door and there stands Kira's ex — A designation I have learned mostly by osmosis — it occurs to me that we might be looking at a later rather than sooner situation.

"Hey," I reply, and motion him in. No sense in acting like I don't know what he's here for. "No sign?"