After the Second Fall

"Sure, John, I guess. But most Adams aren't going to lift up their arms to expose their ribs like that."

John stood up, preparing to leave. Then he smiled and clapped the young man on the shoulder again, causing Pip to grimace. "Just details, Pip."

Chapter 2

Rieckenburg was founded by a cooperative of poor farmers looking to further themselves through collective bargaining with larger towns and cities, well before the Second Fall. When the cataclysm came, it was far too small to be of any significant value, and thus it survived through a combination of chance and indifference, like most post-Fall settlements. In the time that followed, survivors organized themselves, grew the settlement into a town, and eventually into a city.

Many years later, a young woman, called Roxy by the few that knew her, huddled in a side alley deep within the Fourth Quarter. This district, universally recognized as the worst in Rieckenburg, was generally dirty, always dangerous, and never a place to be caught out alone at any time, but especially at night. As a longtime resident Roxy knew all of this, but her options had been limited: either go with the men who had accosted her, or flee and hope that she didn't meet someone worse.

This situation, like most that Roxy had faced, was largely the result of her own poor choices. However, Roxy was especially good at rationalizing and deferring blame, and this time was no different. So as she huddled between two large trash containers, hidden from anyone that might happen down this particular alley, she ran through the list of all the people responsible for her current circumstances.

She started with the most obvious: her boyfriend, J.T. To most people in the city, boyfriend would be too strong a word for their relationship; casual acquaintance might be more accurate given the singular focus of the arrangement. To Roxy, however, this was the life she had always known, so she raged silently, planning how she would curse and ridicule J.T. for not taking care of her. How dare he trade her? Didn't she mean more to him that a bag of cack, or whatever he was into now?

Apparently not.

So J.T. wasn't much of a find, but that just made it her friend Jeska's fault. She'd hooked the two of them up. What was Jeska thinking? She knew what a trashboy J.T. was -- couldn't she have warned Roxy?

No: that wasn't really fair. Jeska had been a good friend. She shared her food, even when she didn't have enough herself.

This really all started before she was out on the street, when Jasmine threw her out. So what if she missed her share of the housing dues twice. She had paid the first one.

And she wouldn't have missed those payments if that assclown Higgens hadn't fired her. She was only a little late one time after he warned her. How could anyone change overnight? What was he thinking? She had really tried to be up in time, but that party the night before was sick.

What was she supposed to do? She could have left earlier, maybe, but that would have made her out to be a loser to the guy throwing the party. Tim? Ted? Whatever.

If he hadn't had so much good stuff there, she would have left straightaway. What was he thinking, inviting desperate girls to that kind of party. Of course she had stayed. When would she get another chance like that? Certainly not any time soon, now.

Dammit. He was probably just trying to be nice: help out poor local kids. Whatever.

But if it wasn't Tim-Ted's fault, whose was it?

Sister Margaret? That nun never liked Roxy.

Sister Jan? She was no better. Stupid lady was always trying to make Roxy do things she didn't want to do.

The Rev? Absolutely not. He'd never done anything to hurt her, but he gave Roxy the creeps. No, thank you.

Her Mom? Ha. What Mom?

By this time, Roxy was balling, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to stay silent. If she got out of this, she would change. She would have to, or she'd end up like Jeska: half-starved, cut up, and face down in a street with no name.

The crying eventually wore Roxy out and she slid into an uneasy, twitchy sleep. By the time daylight arrived, Roxy was truly exhausted, the sleep having tired her out more than if she had just stayed awake. Even so, Roxy forced herself to get up and moving as soon as the sun was high enough to turn the shadows in the alley from black to a dull gray.

With no alternative she could find, Roxy made her way directly toward the First Quarter, stopping only briefly at a handout kitchen on the way for a piece of salted jerky and a half cup of water.

Having started early, Roxy reached 9^th Street, the unofficial boundary of the First Quarter, before the seventh bell. Here she slowed her progress, knowing that she would be safe in the most upscale of the four Rieckenburg districts.

As Roxy walked the streets toward the center of the quarter, she took note of her new surroundings. Sure, the streets were old and made of pavers, but they were clean. The buildings were old, too, but the outsides looked well cared for. She even passed a park that was more grass than mud.

Roxy couldn't help but feel resentment, longing to be part of a place where everyone had enough to eat and drink, and didn't need to be constantly afraid. She wrestled with her feelings as she walked, knowing they wouldn't be helpful in what was to come. She still hadn't completely handled them as she arrived in front of her destination, but she was pretty sure she could fake it, until she looked up at the building. Her resentment and jealousy vanished, replaced immediately with a sense of awe.

The structure was huge, stretching the entire width of the block. It was uniformly built from a tan stone, with a rounded part in the middle and two large wings on either side that seemed to wrap around her as she walked slowly toward the entrance in the center. Roxy became even more intimidated as she approached, seeing that there were massive double doors in the curving forward facing wall, which was itself up a flight of enormous stairs.

Roxy paused at the foot of the stairs, unsure of what her next step should be. Walk up and knock? Look for someone that worked here?

Eventually, without her even noticing, a man joined her, having himself walked along the entire length of one wing. He stood just behind and to her right, looking up the steps with her. When she didn't acknowledge him, the man slowly scuffed his shoe, letting her know that he was there.

Roxy snapped out of her daze and turned to look. When she did, she saw a very, very large man dressed in black, and despite her immediate inclination to take several steps backward, she stood her ground.

"Um, hello. Do you work here?" she asked.

The man appraised the young woman. Dressed in a simple shirt and trousers, she was not wearing shoes. Her hair was cut to a medium length, just past her chin, but not well. Her head reached up to the lower part of his chest, and she was slim, probably from malnutrition like many of the city's poorer inhabitants.

He was intrigued: one did not tend to find such people close to the Complex. "Yes, I do actually. And what can I do for you?"

It was at this point that Roxy's resolve, bravado, and composure broke down. Instead of answering, large tears formed and subsequently rolled down her cheeks. Roxy, ever the opportunist, tried to make this work to her advantage by playing up to the man's sympathy, but found that she truly couldn't form coherent words.

For his part, John stood and watched the young woman break down. She wasn't hysterical, but was clearly at the end of her emotional strength. After some time, perhaps two hundred beats, she came to the end of her tears and was able to pull herself back from whatever precipice she had been looking beyond.

Still silent, John cocked his head to the side and raised and eyebrow when she finally looked back into his face.

Roxy couldn't help but let go a short, sharp laugh at his expression, even as she wiped the tears away with the ratty collar of her shirt. "Sorry about that," she began before taking a deep breath. "It's been a rough... well, it's been rough. It just sorta caught up with me, is all."

John gave her an indulgent half smile, giving her a little more time to recover her full composure.

One more deep breath and Roxy started again, "I'm looking for some sort of job. I don't really have any skills, but I'm desperate, so I'll do anything that lets me eat."

"Not much of sales pitch," John replied in a mildly amused tone.

"No, I guess not, but I haven't always been so good about being honest, and I want to -- no, I need to make a fresh start."

"Sales pitch isn't really improving," said John, who was now clearly amused, even to a shaken Roxy. "Maybe you should start with the positives -- that might go over better."

Roxy smiled back and sniffled. "Yeah, maybe you're right.

"Well. I guess I'm pretty good with people."

"Yep," said John, looking at the tear tracks on her dirty cheeks. "I picked that up right away."

"And I think quick. Resourceful."

"Don't forget good under pressure," replied John.

"Yeah, that, too.

"Dammit," said Roxy mostly to herself. "Look, I know you're probably trying to cheer me up, but please don't make fun of me. I don't even know how to do this. I'm not sure what I'm doing here, except that I couldn't think of a single other thing to do. If I'm back in the Fourth Quarter for another night I'm going to end up face down come morning. I really don't have any options.

"Can you help me? Like, can you tell me who to talk to so that I can try to find a job? I don't have anything to offer you, but it would really, really help me."

John stood silently for a few moments, glad to see some spirit coming back to the young woman. "Alright, let's start over. My name is John, and yours is?"

"Roxy. My name is Roxy, and I'm from the Fourth Quarter. I've been on my own for the last five years, so you know I'm tough, and I'm smart. And I'm resilient. I've never done drugs. Not any. I mean it, not a single time.

"And now I'm here to work. I'll learn quick, and I'll give you one hundred and ten percent. I'll do the really bad jobs that nobody else wants. I don't care. All I need is a chance." Roxy looked the large man directly in his eyes. "Will you give me a chance?"

John smiled fully for the first time. "Much, much better. I think you should go with that pitch."

Roxy's face fell. "So you can't help me?"

"Well," started John before pausing, "let's see what we can figure out. First things first, though, we need to get you cleaned up. Follow me."

John turned and started striding up the steps, looking like he only had to stretch out his legs a little to walk normally. Roxy did follow, and soon found that she needed to jog to keep up, especially since it took two and a half of her steps on each of the stairs.

Half a bell later, Roxy was sitting on an oversized chair in some back hallway. John had left, promising that she would be taken care of soon, but it was possible that his definition of soon was as oversized as everything in the building. Roxy found her anxiety building.

As she continued to sit, Roxy realized she was as excited as she was nervous. Her new attitude was already working: she'd taken some responsibility for her life, and now something was happening. She just hoped that something was good, which started the anxiety building again.

A short while later, before Roxy had time to thoroughly lose herself to panic, a woman came down the hall. The woman was a little shorter than Roxy, and probably only a few years older. "Hi, I'm Maggie. Are you Rosie?" the woman asked.

"You mean Roxy?"

"Maybe. Mr. Rogers talked to Madame Bower, who told me to come collect a young woman named Rosie, and you're the only one here."

"Alright then," said Roxy deciding, "Rosie it is. Consider me collected. Where are we off to?"

"I'm to take you to get cleaned up and outfitted, and then get some food. Once you've eaten we'll head over to meet Madame Bower. She's the one that runs our department."

"And which department is that?"

"Oh," said Maggie, obviously surprised. "Physical and Emotional Therapy. We're the ones who take care of the Adams." With this last statement Maggie smiled broadly.

"But I don't have any training at all. How am I going to do therapy?"

"Don't worry, Rosie, you'll figure it out," said Maggie, her smile widening further. "Come on. Madame Bower will be expecting us, so let's get going."

The women didn't chat as they walked, given the hurried pace that Maggie set. Soon enough, they had arrived at their first stop. Roxy, now Rosie, looked at the large open room with the tiled floors and walls. "What is it?"

The surprised look on Maggie's face told Rosie that she had said something wrong, so she tried backtracking. "I mean, I haven't seen one quite like this. Maybe you can show me how it works? I don't want to break something my first day here."

Maggie took in Rosie's ratty hair, dirt stained skin, and ragged clothes, for the first time really seeing the young woman. "Um, yeah. This one's pretty complicated.

"Here, just do what I do." With this she started taking off her uniform, folding her garments as they were removed, and placing them on a knee high shelf.

As Maggie undressed, Rosie took in her form with a mixture of astonishment and envy. Maggie was curvy like nobody Rosie had ever met. Her breasts were full, as were her hips; she even had a little padding around her belly. Maggie was, without question, the most feminine woman Rosie had ever seen.

"Come on, Rosie. You're making me self-conscious staring at me like that," said Maggie, reddening slightly. "You can't take a shower with your clothes on."

"Oh! Oh, yeah, of course," replied Rosie, quickly stripping off her shirt and pants, trying to make it look like she'd done so dozens of times before. When she got to her undergarments she froze. Rosie closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing her hands to keep moving, but she couldn't get them to pull the straps off her shoulders. She took another breath and tried again, but instead of making any progress, tears returned to her closed eyes and began rolling down her cheeks for the second time in the morning.

Maggie watched this internal struggle for only a moment before placing hand on Rosie's back and a second on her shoulder. Rosie stiffened further, seeming to pull back into herself, so Maggie took a step back. "Rosie, Honey, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

Rosie shook her head in response, again failing to respond.

Unsure what to do, Maggie stepped forward and gently took the younger girl's chin and tilted it up. "Rosie, look at me. Come on, Honey, look at me. I won't hurt you. That's right. Now what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"I just... you just caught me off guard is all. I thought I'd have more time before, you know, I'd have to get naked..."

"Oh, Rosie. I'm so sorry. I didn't even think about that. I was just trying to show you how to take a shower without embarrassing you. I guess I did the opposite, huh?"

Rosie sniffled. "It was that obvious I had no idea what to do?" she asked, wiping tears with her still drying shirt.

"Yeah, pretty much. Look, nothing weird is going to happen. We take off our clothes so that they don't get wet, and then we stand under those nozzles over there and use the water that comes out to get clean. That's it."

Rosie's fear lessened as she heard the explanation. "You mean you have so much water that you can use it just for cleaning? Do you drink it afterward?"

Maggie made a face. "No, of course not. But the water does recycle, so try not to get it in your mouth -- it can make you pretty sick. And keep it out of your eyes, too."

"Oh. Okay, I guess that sorta makes sense. I've just... I didn't know there was that much clean water in the city. We always just stood out in the rain, or sometimes used a rag dipped in a rain barrel." Rosie smiled, wiping at her tears. "This does sound much better, though."

Maggie smiled back. "It definitely is." With that, Maggie stepped into the room, turning on two of the shower heads. She was joined shortly thereafter by Rosie, who had overcome her bout with modesty.

After what would generally be regarded as an inordinately long time, the ladies finished their showers and headed to their next stop, with Maggie back in her clothes and Rosie in a towel; her clothes had been discarded in the trash bin at the room's exit.

Walking into the storeroom, Maggie quickly picked out several sizes of the various garments for Rosie to try on. Not long afterward the two were dressed in matching outfits consisting of dark blue shirts and tan skirts. Each of the shirts had light blue stitching around the sleeves and a v-neck collar. The ankle length skirts were cut up both sides to allow for easy movement while still managing to hide the ladies' legs most of the time. Underneath Rosie was now wearing a soft white camisole and modestly cut panties. Despite her new attire's clear focus on function over form, Rosie had never felt more luxuriously dressed, and told Maggie as much.

Maggie just laughed and hurried them on to the kitchen.

Like the shower, their visit to the kitchen took substantially longer than Maggie had expected. In addition to being the least picky eater Maggie had ever met, Rosie managed to eat a significant percentage of her body weight. As they left, with Rosie still chewing, Maggie was trying to determine if the smaller girl had somehow managed to hide some of the food in her pockets for later. Deciding to leave that mystery unsolved, Maggie led the way to the common room that also functioned as Madame Bower's office.

The room, regularly referred to as the Lounge by the women that it served, was large and square with a desk against the far wall, comfortable looking couches in the center, and high tables spaced along the side walls. Scattered throughout the room were more than a dozen women in the same uniforms, most of whom looked to be roughly the same age as Maggie. The clear exception was an older woman sitting on the nearest couch between two women. All three were smiling as they talked.

It was to the front of this couch that Maggie led Rosie. When the older woman looked up, Maggie curtsied and introduced her companion. "Madame Bower, this is Rosie, the young woman you sent me to fetch. As you instructed, she's all cleaned up and has eaten."

The older woman disengaged herself from her companions and stood, appraising the newly arrived pair. "And what took so long, Miss Maggie?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, but without any ire. "I expected you both some time ago."

"Well..." started Maggie, but Rosie stepped forward before she could proceed.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, it was my fault. I took longer in the shower than I should have. I was just trying to get all of the dirt off me, and, well, there was a lot of it."

Madame Bower looked the young woman over with the benefit of many years worth of experience. The girl was of medium build, but seemed even smaller due to being underweight, perhaps dangerously so. Her eyes were either blue or gray -- it was difficult to distinguish in the room's soft light -- and seemed almost sunken due to her malnutrition, but they would be pretty once she filled out. However, even in her current state, the girl had some natural curves, and it was a good sign that she took responsibility for being late, even though it didn't matter in the slightest.

The older woman, whose given name was Ruth, motioned for Maggie to step away with her for a moment. While the two women held a silent conversation amongst themselves, Rosie was left to stand awkwardly in front of the seated women, occasionally making eye contact, but mostly staring at her feet.