The Bridge: A Science Fiction Survival Story

Chapter 10: Of Feasts and Famine

I was eighteen when Pliny died, in the Year of Feasts.

Just two years prior I had been added to the chief's council, Pliny taking me to one of their meetings and addressing Segni.
"Your honor," Pliny said, bowing low, "I come to you today with a petition that will succeed only in strengthening the continued success of the ship."

"Yes?" Segni said, lounging in his chair and chewing on a strawberry. He had decreed the last year that the chief be provided with triple rations, such that he not be distracted by hunger or lack of energy when making decisions. And since that decision, his face had grown slightly more round, and his shirts slightly tighter.

"Within your council, you have representation from the doctors, from the historians, from the cooks," said Pliny, "But what you do not have is representation from the farmers, from those who provide your food. It would be wise, chief, to include them in order to predict crop yields and set the desired crops for the year."

"I do agree," Said Segni, "Such as strawberries, which have been smaller this month than usual."

"Exactly, your honor. Exactly. So it is with you acceptance that I propose to appoint a gardening relations, to make your wishes more clear in the fields."

"Oh?" Said Segni, and cast his eyes on me, "Sure, go on then. I'm sure Horatius will fetch him from the gardeners."

"Your honor," Interrupted Pliny before I could speak, "Actually, I have elected Horatius to fill this role."

Segni's eyes widened and he coughed, a cough that spread into laughter as bits of fruit flew from his mouth.

"Him?" He said, struggling to catch his breath, "Him? Oh Pliny, what a joke, he can hardly keep his place in the fields, let alone the council. I nominate Skip."
Beside Pliny I gritted my teeth, keeping my gaze straight. Word had started circulating the ship after I won my bet with Skip about my methods of farming. Few seemed to mention the success I'd seen, focusing rather on how I'd thrown out seeds, or changed from the methods of the past, and had simply been lucky.

"Oh, but that is precisely why we need him, chief." Said Pliny with a smile, "You see, I would hesitate before pulling Skip from the fields to attend meetings, in case the crops falter in his absence. And Skip is smarter than most the gardeners- no, we need someone that the average gardener can relate to, someone who they see as an equal or else they will not listen to him. Plus with Horatius your yields will not be disrupted, and he will have less time to cause issues in the fields if he is in meetings. Furthermore, he is able to represent the porters aft er the time he spent in their ranks. Chief, I advise Horatius not because he is the best, but rather because his skills are replaceable, and he will not be missed in his absence."

"Hmm." Said Segni, narrowing his eyes at me, "I suppose that is true. But will you keep your word and tell my wishes to the other gardeners? What if they do not listen to you, what then?"

"Your honor," I said, bowing lower than Pliny, "All my life I have faced adversity and dissent. I will relay you word even if it means damage to my reputation, which is already marred, or loss of the few friends that I have. I am but your servant, and have no other ties."

Segni eyes gleamed as I bowed a second time, and he nodded.

"Then I consent," He said, his arms stretching wide, "Servant."

***

Council meetings occurred once per week, consisting of Segni relating his wishes to his leadership team.

"Today is the anniversary of my father's death and my coronation," Segni said, smiling, a year after I had been on the council, "And as such, I call for a celebration."
"A feast, you honor?" Asked Elliot, who was on the council after quickly rising through the ranks as chef.