2070: A nuclear war wipes out civilization on Earth. 2121: In the region of Quebec, survivors attempt to rebuild society from the ruins of the old one. But things are not so simple...
On one side, traditionalist Catholics have seized control of Old...
"Nan is a gem," thought Maëlle. Initially, she had been afraid that the new maid might take her place. But her mistress had reassured her. Nan had always worked there, in the house of Louise Quintal and her husband, Colonel Traversy. Except in her "previous life," of course.
She didn't know how to do much, apart cleaning and cooking, but she believed she did it well. Despite everything, she had to remain realistic. Although she was honest and a tireless worker, places were rare and coveted within the walls of the old city. If she were to lose her job, she would be forced to return to where she came from. She prayed every day that this eventuality would never happen!
"Maëlle, what vegetables did you plan to accompany tonight's roast?" Nan asked her.
"We have carrots and turnips. There are also some potatoes left, but they are from last year's harvest. They're not very fresh, and Madame prefers to keep them for family meals. She wants only the best for her guests."
"Understood, thank you."
That was one of the aspects Maëlle appreciated most about Nan. She understood quickly. With her, it was never necessary to repeat. Plus, she smiled all the time. She wasn't the grumbling type. Always patient and in a good mood. She knew everything, but never boasted about it. Maëlle had met servants who knew infinitely less than Nan but thought themselves the center of the universe and never missed an opportunity to belittle others. Not Nan. She wasn't like that.
If she had to prepare this meal all by herself, she would never have managed it. Not with Lisbeth, who was an adorable little girl but still demanded constant attention. As for her mistress, even with the best intentions in the world, she couldn't both take care of a toddler and keep an eye on her many businesses. Hence the importance of being able to rely on an efficient team. Maëlle thought she would form this team with Nan.
"Did you plan to make a sauce with the roast?" Nan asked her.
The young woman had to admit, she wasn't the most competent in this particular area of cooking.
"Usually, I just deglaze the cooking broth with a bit of wine, adding a spoonful or two of cricket flour to thicken it, and it works. Do you know a recipe?"
"Yes, wait a moment. What's in the herb shelf?"
With Lisbeth on her arm, busy exploring the outline of her ear with her fingers, Nan searched the cupboard, took out a few jars, sniffed their contents, then chose whether to put them back or keep them on the counter.
"Do you have a specific recipe in mind?" asked Maëlle.
"I'm going to try to reproduce a fairly simple one," answered Nan, "but since I don't have exactly the right ingredients, I have to try to replace what's missing with something similar. I'll prepare the sauce when the roast is ready, just before supper."
She placed the seasonings she had chosen in a corner on the counter. For her part, Maëlle began to set the table for twelve guests.
"We'll be having dinner at seven o'clock," she said. "You'll be in charge of putting Lisbeth to bed while I take care of serving. There will certainly be a moment when Madame will want to introduce you to her guests. If Lisbeth isn't asleep yet, I'll take care of her. Perhaps Madame will also want to introduce Lisbeth, which could happen during the aperitif; one can't plan everything."
"Well, we'll improvise!" replied Nan.
Finally, the first guests arrived. Maëlle had to receive them and lead them to the living room, where Louise Quintal and her husband served them the aperitif themselves. Later, three of the Colonel's friends gathered with him in his office, and her boss asked her to bring them a bottle "so they don't dry out too much."
The idea of finding herself alone with four military men repelled her, especially since these soldiers, despite the evening still being young, were already quite tipsy. So, she asked Nan to accompany her, taking advantage of a moment when Lisbeth was quiet in her high chair. The four "gentlemen" were seated in the office, around a map of the city's fortifications, discussing what they called "problematic areas." The atmosphere changed completely upon the arrival of the two servants in the room.
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"Alcohol and women, what more could you ask for!" exclaimed the youngest of them, about whom Maëlle had only one certainty: it was imprudent to turn her back on him, even if his wife was in the next room.
"Easy there, gentlemen!" said the Colonel, laughing. "You already know Maëlle, and this is Nan, whom you caught a glimpse of earlier. She's my wife's new acquisition."
"Ah, the robot!" exclaimed another. "My father assured me that the militia had destroyed them all after the war. How did this thing manage to make its way to us?"
"My masters had taken refuge in a shelter from which I have only recently emerged," explained Nan.
Maëlle remained silent, focusing on pouring the alcohol into the glasses so that she could finish it as quickly as possible and be able to return to her cauldrons.
"Was it true, Colonel, that rumor circulating before the war about robot women?" asked the youngest again. "That they were easy and always up for a romp?"
"Unfortunately," said the Colonel, "Nan doesn't have the necessary equipment for that! At least, that's what my wife told me; I haven't checked personally. Ha! Ha! But she has other qualities, apparently..."
"She has two hands and a mouth, that's all you need!" chuckled the oldest of the group, a tall, thin man whose head was surrounded by a crown of grayish hair, with a few stray strands radiating up to the top of his head in a desperate attempt to conceal his baldness.
"Yes," said Nan, "the hands especially are very useful, for geriatric care, among other things."
Maëlle didn't know to what extent Nan was aware of the meaning and significance of the words she had just spoken, but she immediately felt a chill in the room's atmosphere. So, she pulled her by the arm and, pretending they needed to watch the roast, dragged her to the exit. "It wasn't very elegant of them, all those insinuations..." Nan murmured.
They had to cross the living room again, where Louise Quintal and her friends watched them pass in uncomfortable silence. Maëlle couldn't say what she saw in their eyes, whether it was hatred, contempt, envy, or pity. She herself would never have dared to judge them.
*** All the illustrations that accompany this novel were created using Artificial Intelligence on the NightCafe Studio website.
