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2022-08-26
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H O M E S T E A D A C T
by Chris Tucker
Jamaica Plain MA
The Third Place Winner in
LOADSTAR's PROSEQUEST '97 Contest
7:00AM. Alarm clock. Urg.
Quickly snake an arm out of the
sleeping bag and hit the remote
switch for the electric space heater.
Don't have long to wait. Living in
the back third of an old school bus
does have its advantages.
7:30. Nice and warm. Open the bag
and hang it on its bar, grab the
plywood under the foam sleeping mat
and pullpush it into its little
"closet". Pull the chair out from my
desk/table and I can start to get
dressed for the trip to work.
A glance at the indoor/outdoor
thermometer shows me it's too cold
outside. ("Too Cold" is defined as
anything under 40 degrees
Fahrenheit.) Still, all I need is
sweats, boots and my parka. I get
dressed, grab my bag and toss in the
disks of my current project.
The other two-thirds of the bus
are occupied by Mohammad and Ahmad. a
couple of Muslims who get paid to
keep the block safe. It's a poor
block, which explains the schoolbus.
However, it is a VERY safe block.
"'Morning, guys! What's for
breakfast, aside from coffee?"
"Just that, coffee, I am
afraid."
"Sounds good. Beats what I was
eating for breakfast last year at
this time. There's gonna be a last
meeting of the homestead group
tonight after work. You two sure you
don't want me to ask the group to
bring you in?"
"No, Kurt. We have a place to
live and a job to do here. Inshallah,
we shall prosper and do the Prophet's
work, peace be upon him."
"Okay. I get paid today; you or
Ahmed need anything besides
groceries?"
"Coffee would be nice, as would
be fresh bread from that little
bakery you found. Perhaps, if you're
feeling generous, those little
seedcakes too...?"
"My pleasure, old friend."
Slug down the last of my coffee
and out the door. Nice block. Poor,
but safe. Clean too. Another couple
of months and the local gardens start
up again. Fresh vegetables! Forget
dope, just give me a fresh tomato,
right off the vine.
The Force is with me. Here comes
the bus and I'll be 15 minutes early.
Enough time to have a LONG shower
downtown.
Cardswipe my way into the
building and head for the basement.
The maintainance guys let us
displaced workers use their locker
room and shower. No money officially
changes hands, but unofficially, this
is well worth the $40.00 a week I
slip them. I don't know where my
busmates bathe, probably the mosque.
Oh man! Hot water, soap! Heaven!
Dry off and get a change of clothes
from my locker. Yvonne will be
showing up shortly for her shower and
I don't want to linger too long. As
much as I like her and like being
around her, she's mortally
embarrassed that she's wound up
sleeping in her little office. If I'm
not around when she gets here, it
makes her life a little easier.
8:30 and I hit the vending
machine...literally. A sharp rap in
JUST the right place and about half
the time, it resets to a FREE
selection state. Today's my lucky
day, with less than a buck to my
name, the machine goes free and I
grab a bagel and cheese combo. Pop it
into the microwave and have a hot
"breakfast".
I toss the first of the disks
into the computer and get to work
like a good little worker, at least
until the little flashing LED on my
keyboard tells me that my
'productivity monitoring' daemon has
fuddled the BigBrother into thinking
I'm churning out the keystrokes.
Bloody bureaucrats. They equate a
certain number of keystrokes an hour
with productivity and they equate
productivity with creativity. Half of
my job is just sitting there, staring
into space. The easy part is the
typing and mousing and graphics. The
daemon intercepts BigBrother and
feeds him a nice high keystroke per
hour figure. My bosses love hard
workers like me. The feeling isn't
mutual, except for Yvonne.
Nominally my superior, she's just
another underpaid, homeless
cityworker like me. I've known her
for a couple of years, and I really
like her, and I think she really
likes me. If we either of us had a
decent place to live and extra money,
I suspect we'd be dating, buuuuuut,
since I'm living in a bus with no
running water and she's got a futon
hidden in her office where she sleeps
at night, there's bugger-all we can
do about getting to know each other
better except for our office
facetime.
1:00PM. Check the bank dialup and
see if my check was deposited. Yes!
Money in the bank. I eat tonight.
I've been thinking about this for
a while and I'm gonna do it.
Yvonne eats lunch in her office
and I go and see her.
"Yvonne, I'm in a homesteading
group. Monday, we're going to squat a
building and invoke the Year and A
Day law. Our lawyer says we have an
iron-clad case and should be able to
claim the building for a token
payment on back taxes. We need to
fully occupy the building for that
year and a day and I want you to come
in on this with us. The final meeting
is tonight after work and I'd like
you to come with me."
Whoosh! Well, I'm in it now.
She gives me a look that's pretty
much inscrutable. All it takes to
screw me, the group, and get her a
big promotion is to make one phone
call to the Mayor's Office. I get
busted, my friends in the group lose
any chance of a home of their own,
and she'll have enough juice to swing
a place of her own in one of the City
Government Blocks.
"Kurt, I'll meet you here at
5:00. Thank you for thinking of me."
Oh, geeze, I gotta sit down.
"Okay, uhhhm, until then, Okay?"
She could still screw this up,
but I can't see that she would. She's
miserable, sleeping in her office,
I'm certain she likes me, the way she
looks at me in the halls, the talks
we have at lunch. No, she won't do
anything to cause trouble. She'll
have a place of her own in the
building and after a year and a day,
she'll own,...No! We'll own a part of
that building, and they won't be able
to do a thing about it.
It takes FOREVER for 5:00 to roll
around. Thank God for that daemon, as
I haven't been able to do squat on
the machine for the rest of the day.
Oh, hell! If she goes to the meeting,
she'll get locked out of the
building, where is she gonna sleep
tonight?
"Kurt."
"Oh, Hi, Yvonne, look what are
you gonna do about tonight, I mean,
where are you gonna stay tonight?"
"Don't worry about it, okay?"
"Okay, if you say so."
"I say so. Shall we go?"
We get a bus downtown and take
the train a few stops. The meeting is
in the office of our lawyer. This is
where we take the plunge.
I introduce her to the rest of
the group, suggesting that she can
have the storeroom as a studio
apartment. The retrofit would be
simple enough and I can do the
drywalling until she gets up to speed
on her carpentry and plumbing and
wiring skills and I realize that I'm
babbling and that I should shut up
and let her speak for herself.
"Hello, my name is Yvonne. I've
known Kurt for several years. I'm his
"boss", in a manner of speaking. I've
been living in my office for over a
year, since I lost my apartment.
Since they lock the building at
seven, I have to stay there all
night. I have to bathe in the
basement. I have to wash my clothes
during my lunch hour. I haven't seen
a movie in a year, I haven't had a
date in a year, I haven't had a meal
that wasn't microwaved in a year. If
you folks will have me in your group,
I'll... I'd..." she stopped talking
and hid her face in her hands, her
shoulders shaking with emotion. I
hesitated for a second, and then
wrapped my arms around her.
"Shhhh. It's all right, dear,
it's all right. We know how you feel,
we all know."
I looked at the group, there were
more than a couple of handkerchiefs
dabbing at eyes. They all have to
agree to bring her into the group.
Fred, the nominal 'leader' of our
group, looks around at the group.
"As if any of us would deny
either you, or your, uh, 'friend', a
place in the building. Yvonne, my
dear, you will be most welcome in
this endeavor. Mr. Reilly, would you
be so kind as to add this young
woman's name to the charter so that
she can sign it?"
The lawyer makes the changes and