The Farm

Chapter One

The Farmer's in his den
The Farmer's in his den
E, I, Addi-o - the Farmer's in his den

The Farmer wants a wife
The Farmer wants a wife
E, I, Addi-o - the Farmer wants a wife

The wife wants a child
The wife wants a child
E, I, Addi-o - the wife wants a child

The child wants a nurse
The child wants a nurse
E, I, Addi-o - the child wants a nurse

The nurse wants a dog
The nurse wants a dog
E, I, Addi-o - the nurse wants a dog

The dog wants a bone
The dog wants a bone
E, I, Addi-o - The dog wants a bone

We all pat the dog
We all pat the dog
E, I, Addi-o - We all pat the dog

Monday

I always found it hard to decide what to wear for weddings. Since Shades Law came in and we all got limited to wearing neck-to-toe greens and browns outside it's been even worse. Nobody wants to wear brown to a wedding. Kaischa and I even had to cover our hair when we left the house, because our hair was just a little too red to fall within "safe and acceptable" guidelines. Of course, we could let it loose when we arrived, but by then it was fluffy and mussed from the pod ride and the turban. At least redheads look good in green.

The announcement came out of nowhere, really, but as the research was constant, so were the discoveries. When I was six the news told us told us that the bombs altered the genetics of the monsters to the point that they're not human any more. Our classroom tablets amended their classification to homo desquamiens, though we all still called them splitroaches, or blisterbugs. When I was seventeen, the week I started working in the canteen, the studies showed that eating garlic attracts them. We had to track down every bulb, clove and tin of powder and stick it all in HazMat tubs to be dumped in the wasteland. Three days before my cousin's wedding we were told that certain colours have different effects on their rages, and the Shades Law was introduced. Fenella was furious because she thought it meant she'd have to wear a green or brown wedding dress.

We were never sure whether it really mattered, but we did it anyway. Better safe than sorry, when it's life or death. Or worse. As with all hastily-enforced laws, the finer points of it were fed from person-to-person in a kind of Chinese whispers, getting more radical through each outraged messenger. Despite the gaggle of my sister's friends whose mothers had told them they would be forced to burn all their clothes, the measures were less strict than that; wear what you like indoors, but cover up outside. To be honest, I didn't really mind. It was just clothes, and maybe it was safer. I'd rather wear green than turn green.

Packing for weddings is hard. But it's harder when you don't want to go, and it's your own wedding you're packing for.

It's my own fault, I suppose. I could have done what I was meant to, and chosen a husband for myself. I could have thrown a dart at the "Seeking a Wife" board in the community hub, and snapped up a desperate bachelor coming up to his Wedline. I could have stopped tearing my own photo off the "Seeking a Husband" board. I could have let my parents set me up, or could have attempted a meet-cute with one of my regulars in the canteen. And, I suppose, I would have if it hadn't been for the last two months. I might have been able to just nestle into the role of happy bride. I could have, if it weren't for Hayden.

"Ariel?" Mum's voice relayed into my room over the speakers, and I hesitated momentarily before pressing the access switch on the ceiling. My bedroom door hissed as the hermetic seal popped apart to let her in. I could see that she'd been crying. I wondered for just a second if her reddened skin was a technical Shade Law violation. I didn't think anyone had ever been ticketed for blushing, but you never know. My mother drew a slightly ragged breath, her gaze skating over me. "The pod is here to take us to the Cathedral, it's time to go." I looked into my pitiful suitcase before slamming it shut and grabbing it. It didn't matter what I brought, not really. Mum stood in the doorway, waiting for me to exit first, like a security guard. Which I guess she was. I took one last look around my bedroom, and tried not to think to myself that it might be the last time I ever saw it. I failed to ignore the squirming in my guts as I walked through the doorway, my feet feeling like half-dried concrete in my shoes.