Nature Rules - 2022 WATTY'S SHORTLIST

A Man With A Plan

My knee hurts. My head hurts. My arms hurt but at work the next morning, I'm focused. I blaze through five uniforms in the time it usually takes me to do two.

"Learned your lesson, I see," says Supreme Endeavour Officer Lewandowska. "Don't want to go back to jail with all the other Terra-rists."

I'm not going to be tricked into fighting. I keep sewing. Head down. Needle in. Needle out. Lewandowska can't seem to leave me alone. She picks up one of the drab uniforms I've already completed and tears at the seams.

"This is shoddy work," Lewandowska scowls. "I'm going to have to report you."

I look down at the floor. I just know the Moto is enjoying this and I'm not going to react.

"Nothing to say?" she sneers. "Good."

I glance up as Lewandowska opens the door of the shack and motions for another Moto to come in. The man who enters the room is fat. His uniform is too tight for his big belly and bits of flesh poke out from under his coat buttons. Rivulets of perspiration from his bald head drain into the top of his jacket that I don't think has ever been washed. He's not even close to me but I can smell him. It's like he's been dunked in all the sewage and garbage from the common pit back home.

Lewandowska points at me and the smelly Moto grabs my arm and jerks me up to standing. I'm glad the man is so stenchy and makes me shut my mouth because otherwise, I might have screamed in pain.

The Moto pins my arm behind my back and forces me to march to the jail. My knee feels like it's being held onto the rest of my left by a thin piece of skin. But I don't dare do anything and risk being locked up for a month.

Once inside the jail, the Moto shoves me into a crumbling dirty cell where I sit amongst other Habitants. When the door locks shut with a clang, my heart sinks. The whole place is surrounded by guards, There's no way I'm going to be able to shape a plan nor get out of here today. The other Habitants around me have black eyes or bloody noses and scratches on their faces and bruises on their hands. It smells in here too and oh, nice, someone is peeing in the corner.

The cell door clangs open and I see someone who makes my heart does a somersault.

It's Greg.

"3324?" Greg yells.

I get up and shuffle to the door.

Greg points out of the cell and down a hall. I start walking and go where he tells me to go.

"Left," he says and I turn into an office.

"Sit, please," Greg says, showing me a chair in front of a large black desk.

I do take a seat and Greg sits across from me on the other side of the desk. He grabs a pen and some paper.

"Parlez francais?" he asks.

"What?"

What's Greg saying? I haven't heard another language in a long time.

"Parlez francais?"

Oh! I get it now.

"Oui."

It's parfait. C'est parfait.

"You're going to meet Rassel," explains Greg in French. "We need to draw the other Motos attention away in order for him to get to you. I've managed to get you back to your work post by telling them how much you hate the sewing and that would be the worst punishment than sitting in a cell."

"Gee, thanks," I say.

"Sorry, Naia. I thought it was better for your sister and your friends to have you with them too."