Vera and Luvius : Part 1 : Breakfast Room ( Marta & Gallanol Ch.6 )

CHAPTER SIX: VERA AND LUVIUS (Part 1 : Breakfast Room)

Vera came into the Breakfast Room as it was called. This was a communal room where anyone could collect food whenever they had a break in the work schedule. It was called the Breakfast Room because it was a popular meeting place for many before the schedules of the day began – the only time for some people when their breaks synchronised and they could meet. Vera never came for Breakfast – nor did the majority. Like Vera they did not feel prepared enough early in the day to meet friends. Perhaps like Vera they no longer had any friends. Like Vera they probably considered idle chatter to be a waste of time or something that could be confined to moments during the work schedule.

Vera had just completed an extended extra shift due to failure to meet targets. The work was still not complete but the Shift Manager had made the decision to let them stop as the team was showing obvious signs of weariness and the quality of work was suffering. Vera would normally hurry back to her own room for something to eat and another bout of studying. Tonight she was too hungry to wait until she got back. She felt that while she was out of routine she might as well do something different. She was so tired, there was no way she could do any more study tonight. The exams were getting close and her current work schedules were not helping, but there was nothing else for it.

There was a queue at the food consoles. Some of them were people from her own shift, tired and drawn. A forty-ish-year-old man in front of her turned round to her, a weary look in his face. “That’s the fourth time we’ve had to work late this week. It’s too much, don’t you think?”

She recognised him as one of her team, a man called Luvius. They had never exchanged words before, except in the strict line of work. She was taken aback that he should speak now and so familiarly.

“Yes, the targets were certainly not well set. We can’t possibly keep them up,” she replied politely.

“We can’t be expected to turn out for extra shifts nearly every night of the week just because some fool in the time budget or management accounts department has got it wrong. They should build some flexibility into the system. If they can’t get it right perhaps they should think of taking in some more trainees to share the work,” said Luvius, visibly angry. Vera noticed his complexion was red, as if his face was about to burst, and Vera could almost see him shaking. She noticed how old he looked. His front teeth were crooked and his face was becoming coarse and wrinkled. His head was balding, his hair greying.

“We do get paid for the extra work we do,” Vera mentioned, reassuringly, “And at higher than the normal rates.”

“And you think that makes up for it, do you?” he said. Vera began to shrivel as she felt his anger being directed at herself. She was not used to criticism or anger, except constructive criticism from managers or teachers.

“We all have to accept that there will be times when we have to work much longer. It’s part of our contract. We aren’t the only ones. It applies in every profession.” As soon as her sensible words escaped her lips she knew she had said the wrong thing, but what could you say with people who were losing their self-control? She had seen this before, those years ago which did not seem long ago, with Morag. You could never say the right thing with upset people.

“Why should we accept it? We’re the ones who do the work. We should decide how long we work, and when we’re tired we shouldn’t have to work any more. Our Higher Managers care nothing for us. They think they can fob us off with credits. All my credits do is go to buy a property I’ll probably never get to live in. Any excess goes straight into my investments. I never actually see any benefits. I might as well not be earning any money at all for the pleasure I get out of it.

“Do you know I’m taking the Level 8 Intermediates in four years time? At this rate I won’t be able to study for them and I’ll have to take another year. Indeed I may lose my provisionals and be forced to retake my lower 8s. That’ll take three years. All because some nuts don’t know how to budget properly and don’t realise we’re human beings too. I really don’t know if I can stand it any longer. Should I stop and stay on this grade for the rest of my life? It would drive me mad. How many years have I got left? I don’t know exactly – not many. I’ll be retired before I finish at this rate. Do you know how old I am?” Luvius sounded as if he was gong to go on for a long time.

“I don’t know exactly,” replied Vera, chastened by the outburst.

“Guess,” he demanded.

“About forty,” she guessed.

“Actually, that’s pretty good. You’re right,” he said. To Vera’s surprise he smiled as he said it. It was the most honest smile she’d seen in a long time. People weren’t usually this open with her. Her early uneasiness was disappearing. He wasn’t really angry with her after all. He was angry with his work and with those higher up in the organisation. Something in what he had said reminded her of the Communalist Movements of two hundred and more years ago, who had viewed the economic system as a class struggle in which the managers and owners exploited the workers. His resentment of the decision makers reminded her of the history they had all been taught of those times. Workers had refused to work, in some cases had taken up arms against their “oppressors”. It had all led to much confusion, and bloodshed. They had been pretty misguided and naïve. Since then democracy, share ownership, improved management practices – lots of things – had made this a more fluid society. Effort was rewarded and there were no “classes” any more.

“How old are you?” he asked. She hesitated in her answer for no real reason. “Let me guess,” he went on. “You’re somewhere near thirty-three, thirty-four?”

He thought she was older. ‘Do I look that old?’ she thought, slightly upset by his inaccuracy. ‘That must be what I look like. Have my years of work and study stolen even more of my years than I thought?’ Then she remembered that it could be a compliment. It showed her mature bearing. As an older person himself, it showed that he valued her as being closer to his own level of maturity. “No, I’m only thirty actually,” she said softly.

“Oh, I am sorry,” he said. “I see now you are younger.” His reserve was up again. It was against his code to be unflattering to a woman, but to him, as Vera reasoned, a thirty-four year old was not too old.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind,” she reached out verbally to calm him. “I suppose I do look a bit older than I am.”

“No you don’t,” he said. “I can see now you are only thirty. You look young, much younger than me, and attractive too, if I may say!”

The last comment sent an electric current through her. She had not expected it. Nobody had ever said that to her before. Unused as she was to the tricks of human conversation she sensed that this man really meant it. It had slipped out of him as a response to an impoliteness he wished to correct but that proved it was genuine.

For the first time since their conversation had begun she gave conscious thought to the question of his attractiveness. She had looked at him in that way when she had first joined the team. She had thought him handsome, but now he looked cracked and ageing. These few months had aged him dramatically. Could it be the effect of space – she remembered her dead brother Marcus, lost in space, who had seemed much older than his real age when she had last seen him. She didn’t think the space station had that effect on people. Now that she was thirty she was more conscious of age. People who still seemed young were reaching the peak of their beauty and beginning to lose it. The fact of the decline of their features somehow made their beauty all the more valuable, to be treasured before it disappeared altogether. Now that she thought about it this feeling was strong when she looked at Luvius. He was an attractive man, neat, but he was losing it by the day. This made his beauty less obvious. She had reacted to him as to someone out of control but now she realised he was not out of control. He was a sensitive, caring man, and she felt sorry for him, and she did find him quite attractive.

Luvius reached the food terminals. The conversation ended as he turned to make his decisions. Soon Vera too was selecting foods and drink. Automatic debits were sent to her computerised account. She turned to find a table. To her mild surprise Luvius was with her. He had not chosen to sit with anyone else, nor had he sat on his own, in which case Vera would surely have found a distant table to sit at on her own. She had no particular friends here on the station. “Where would you like to sit?” said Luvius, implicitly offering to sit with her wherever she chose.

“You choose,” she said quickly, too surprised to consider quickly whether she really should, or to question the suggestions of another, particularly of a man.

Luvius ignored the table where some of their work party sat, men who Vera knew were friends of Luvius, and found a smaller table in the corner of the Breakfast Room. Vera felt some trepidation as she sat on the fixed revolving chair he offered her. What would she say next? How would the conversation continue? It was unusual that a man should speak to her for so long and then wish to continue a conversation. Sometimes when work did not prevent it men had made small conversations but she never handled them confidently and they always stopped or went away, not able to keep up a faltering communication. Diocletian was the only one who did, that being because he was their teacher. Her mind empty of ideas, she waited for Luvius to speak.

Now that Luvius had persuaded her here, he seemed at a loss for words. Surely he had some purpose in engaging in conversation – if only to share ideas. She suspected he too was as unused to speech with a member of the opposite sex, and just did not know what to say.

He cleared his throat and returned to an earlier subject of conversation, one which both of them had in common – work. “How is your work going, Vera? Are you finding success in your exams?” A standard conversation, one which they had already addressed, but conversations were like that. Vera always avoided saying the things she really wanted to say and said boring things or silly things. People usually lost interest in what she was saying or ran out of things to say themselves. She had to admit she was not good at conversation.

Only with those female friends of the past, and with Diocletian had she ever been able to express herself naturally. All of those relationships had been limited and come to an eventual end, running out of steam. Diocletian was her teacher, he had encouraged her only in as much as it concerned her studies. Morag had run away from the life they had shared with a conflicting perspective on life. Paula had suited promotion, which indicated a superior brain. Vera thought now that Paula must have found her very tiresome. On the station Vera had no friends yet. She was respected and capable at work, although there was so much she did not know and was constantly critical of her own performance.

She told Luvius about her work and the progress of her studies, evasively and generally at first, but as he seemed interested and had little to comment himself beyond words of encouragement she began to let the details of her life come out. She was aware of how unusual the situation was. It made her excited, and despite the lateness of the hour and the weariness of her work she became fully absorbed and allowed herself to drift on the questions he asked. She was hardly eating because she talked so much about electronic equipment and the theories of atomic energy and her successes and failures on the questions of the last exam paper. She was aware that she talked far too much and that Luvius might be wishing he had not begun this conversation, but whenever she stopped he set her off in a different direction and she obeyed him, having no experience of not doing what other people asked of her.

Eventually Luvius said nothing when her words came to silence. She knew it was time to break the conversation. “I’m so sorry to talk so much. It must be very boring to hear all about my work. You are very patient.”

“Not at all,” said Luvius. His smile turned to a polite laugh. “It was good to hear you say all those things. I guess you do not express your thoughts often, and I like to hear what people really think. I do not think you have told me everything you know yet, and certainly not your deepest thoughts, but I would like to hear everything you wish to tell me.”

“Not all now,” she said, genuinely shocked. How could anyone be so interested in her life? He must have his own life and work to worry about, achievements of his own to talk about. She had been so rude to talk about herself so much. She guessed however that he was interested, not necessarily in the details she spoke, but in the company she had given. She guessed that he was a lonely man, without many friends, and perhaps, like herself, he found pleasure in sharing something with someone else, someone unfamiliar.

Men were strangers, even women were strangers to Vera. She knew this was not entirely right because she could see that some other people, in this very Breakfast Room, were friends or appeared to be friends, and she had experienced some friendship in the past. She could not understand what was in Luvius’ head but he had at least communicated his enjoyment of this time they had spent talking.

“Maybe not all now,” said Luvius. “We haven’t got the time. We have to be in bed soon. Tomorrow’s shift starts early, remember, and you said you have to study something before bed.”

He was giving her the opportunity to stop, but she wasn’t sure whether she should stop. Looking at her armwatch, she noted that they had been talking for a full hour. Normally she would have been horrified to lose so much study time but instead she was proud to have achieved such a quantity of shared time. “I cannot tell you much more. You would not be interested, but I do not think I can study tonight anyway. What about yourself? Would you not like to tell me something about your own work?”

“No, I want to forget about my work right now. I have little to say about it right now and you would not be interested,” said Luvius.

She had been clumsy to ask him so directly to talk about his work. He obviously didn’t want to, and he probably wanted to get away from her and return to his bed.

‘Oh, I am sorry,’ she said. ‘I am keeping you from your study and your bed.’ She made as if to stand up and depart.

Luvius ignored her movement and as he spoke she sat down again so as not to be rude. “I am tired and perhaps we should return to our rooms now, but I have enjoyed our meeting very much. I have long wished to meet you properly and we now know who we both are. I would like you to know that I value this conversation and I wish to suggest that we meet at this table again after work shift tomorrow evening. Maybe regularly,” he added. Then he said, “And we must speak on shift also. I will look forward to it. Do you agree?”

She could only reply, “Yes.” Then she added. “I would like that.”

Vera stood and Luvius stood at the same time. Leaving their trays to be collected from the table by the robots they went to the doorway, she first. There was no one left from their own work group in the room but other groups and shifts had arrived and there was a low babble of conversation. They passed tables where people sat alone staring at the other people or at the food and tables in front of them. Vera and Luvius said goodbye and went in opposite directions at the entrance. She did not know where his room was located. It was a question she would ask him tomorrow evening or perhaps even on Shift, because she felt sure he meant what he said.