Will Harper, supper time, Saturday July 21, 2040
"Maybe, before we join the girls for supper, we should stop by the bathhouse and wash up a bit," said Allan.
"Sounds like a plan to me," said Will, whose bladder was getting full. "I was going to ask where the nearest washroom is, anyway."
"That problem we can solve," said Allan.
They turned toward the building that filled northern half of the space between the two big pole barns. This was a squarish structure with board and batten siding and a field stone foundation that stuck up about 18 inches out of the ground. Its gable roof ran east-west, at right angles to the roofs of the pole barns and the whole thing was set back about 5 feet from the north ends of the pole barns with its eaves jutted out just past the north walls of the barns.
They entered through the easternmost the two doors in the north wall of the building. Inside was a wide hall with a row of eight doors along each side. The walls and ceiling were neatly dry walled and were painted an off white, the floor finished in a light coloured hardwood.
"Nice job on the drywall," commented Will.
"Yeah. This was built in 2031," said Allan. "By then we'd had lots of practice at finishing drywall in the farmhouse renovations and the accommodations we built in the second pole barn.
"Surely you don't make your own drywall," said Will
"No, we don't," said Allan. "Back then we used materials from building supply places that were shutting down and having going out of business sales. Later, after law enforcement had largely ceased to exist, we helped ourselves at several such establishments that had been abandoned, with lots of building materials left behind. It seemed that very few other groups were in any position to build anything new."
"I'm a little surprised to hear that you weren't worried about the unsustainability of those store bought materials," said Will.
"Well," said Allan. "if we'd been using materials that were going to be replaced, that would have been a serious issue. But most industries had shut down by that point. So using the materials amounted to salvage and didn't cause any new damage."
"Hadn't thought of it that way," said Will. "You're right of course. Now what's behind all these doors?"
"Our idea of co-ed washroom facilities, actually," said Allan, stepping up to the nearest of the doors on the right and opening it. "Even at the time this was built we had a few gay and trans people. After some discussion we concluded that by making private closed off rooms instead of stalls, we could accommodate everyone in one location. Rather than having however many separate washrooms it would take."
Will stepped up beside Allan. To the right of the door, on the side away from the hinges, there was a little indicator at eye level, showing green at the moment. This reminded Will of similar indicators he'd seen on portable toilets. "I take it green means 'Not Occupied' and red means "Occupied," he said, pointing at the indicator.
"Yep," replied Allan. "One for each room."
Will looked inside, seeing immediately that the facilities were nothing fancy. The walls were sheathed with varnished plywood, the floor and the top surface of the vanity were covered in ceramic tile, and the sawdust toilet was built using plywood and 2X4s, like the one he'd seen earlier in Allan and Erica's room. The sink and taps had clearly come from the building supply places Allan had just spoken of, though Will assumed that at present they could have been made in Porcupine's machine shop. And the tiles made in their ceramics shop.
"Why don't you use this washroom," said Allan. "And I'll use the next one."
"OK," replied Will.
Will stepped in, closed the door behind him, turned the inside of the indicator to show "Occupied" and did the needful.
There was a pile of towels on the vanity and a wicker basket underneath for used towels. As had become typical in Inverpen, toilet paper was nowhere to be seen and had been replaced by a wicker basket of small squares of cloth, hemmed along the edges. "Toilet cloths", they were commonly called and served the same purpose as toilet paper, but were reusable after washing. A covered bucket held the used cloths until they could be taken away to be washed. There was a wooden bucket of sawdust next to the toilet, with a small scoop. A sign on the wall detailed how one was expected to use a sawdust toilet, including finishing up by covering what one had deposited with a few scoops of sawdust.
Will noticed that there was no "sewage" smell to the place. There was a small vent in the ceiling and Will could faintly hear a fan in the distance, providing ventilation to prevent the buildup of odors.
He washed up and met Allan back out in the hall. "Who takes care of all this?" he asked.
"There's a crew of three people, who proudly call themselves the 'Shit Crew'. They look after the composting toilets here, and in the farm house, the dorms and at various other locations around Porcupine," said Allan. "Takes more people than that of course, and the extras are provided by people looking to fill out their quota of 'shit job' hours. Literally, in this case."
"How big a job is it?" asked Will.
"Well, there's a fair bit of work involved on both ends," said Allan. "The saw dust comes from our saw mill and woodshop, and is supplemented by chaff from grain threshing and hulls from oat and barley hulling. All that has to be collected, stored and then used to fill the sawdust buckets in the washrooms on a regular basis. The buckets in the toilets have to be picked up when they get close to full, replaced with empty ones and emptied into our compost piles. Then the buckets need to be cleaned and put back into storage. That's the extend of the Shit Crew's involvement. The Laundry Crew looks after the toilet cloths and other linens, literally linen in this case since we can't grow cotton in this climate, which need to be changed on a regular basis and washed and dried. And we have a Cleaning Crew that spruces things up when they start to get too grubby. Not just the washrooms, but all the common spaces, you know."
"Sounds like a bit of organization is needed to get all that done," said Will. "You folks manage to do this without bosses or any sort of hierarchy?"
"Yep," said Allan. "And that applies to all of the efforts going on here. Things get done because everybody involved has already agreed that it's the thing to do and they are doing it for themselves, not because a supervisor is standing over them. The people in the crews keep track of what's needed and make sure it gets done. Small groups like that can reach consensus decisions informally and quickly. Of course everyone is watching, so if things go off the rails, it'll come up at the Tuesday night meeting and get suitably addressed."
"Right," said Will. "Kind of amazing that it works so well."
"You mean without somebody at the top to decide what needs to be done?" asked Allan.
"Well, yeah," replied Will. "And with the authority to make people do it."
"I think we've both worked in organizations like that," said Allan. "And seen how well, or rather how poorly, they work. The people at the top are usually badly out of touch with how things actually work and their supposed authority only extends until the workers are out of sight of them. There's always the chance here that the people at the meeting might be out of touch too, but since everybody has to take part in shit jobs and we get rotated through all the different parts of our operation, we all stay pretty well clued in."
"Yeah, I guess you have a point there," said Will.. "Sorry to change the subject, but I gather the pipe you didn't want to use in the dormitories ended up here?"
"Yeah. We only had so much in the way of pipe and fixtures, so we settled on using most of them in this central location," said Allan."Supplying every room in the dorms would have used a lot more pipe. Anyway, let's take a quick peek down this way." He nodded toward the interior end of the hall.
Following Allan, Will soon saw it was a T intersection, with a double door in the middle and halls heading off in both directions.
"Our laundry and grey water processing are through these doors, the hall to the left takes you to the first pole barn and the one on the right takes you to the second pole barn," said Allan. "Part way along to the right are the actual baths."
Allan led the way to the right and about half way along turned right again into another hall, with an exterior door at the far end. It too was lined with doors along both sides, but not so evenly spaced this time.
"For this we borrowed some ideas from the Japanese," said Allan, opening the first door on the right and waving Will in.
"The Japanese? I'm not sure what you mean by that," said Will.
"They've had bath set ups more or less like this for centuries. You get clean first, in this case in the shower," said Allan pointing to a shower stall on the right. "And then the bath is for soaking and socializing, without having to change the water so often. This room is meant for one to four people. Most are this size, but there are two that are for larger groups."
To the left there was a set of shelves with clean towels and baskets for used ones, a bench for changing, and hooks for hanging clothes. At the back was looked to Will like a small hot tub.
"I take it all this is clothing optional and co-ed?" asked Will.
"For Erika and I, as a couple, definitely," said Allan. "But if we came here with another couple, everybody would probably wear swim suits. We don't have an open marriage, you know. But I'm also not concerned about what other consenting adults may get up to. So as long as everyone involved agrees..."
"I see, I think..." said Will.
"Mainly a bit of fun for some of the younger, unattached folks, you know" said Allan, turning and leading the way out of the room, down the hall and through the last door on the right. "This is one of the larger baths," said Allan.
Will stepped in and looked around. This was similar to the room they'd just came from, but larger, with two showers and a large tub that looked like it might hold a dozen people if they were friendly and he suspected they wouldn't be here if they weren't. "I see what you mean," said Will. "I'm impressed with the amount of towels and such you folks have. Are they all made here?"
"Yeah, the ones we originally brought with us have worn out over the years. We grow quite a bit of flax, which provides both fiber and oil," said Allan. "In the second pole barn there's an area devoted to textiles, and we've managed to build some small scale automation of both spinning and weaving and for some of the earlier parts of the process, like getting the fiber out of the flax. All that would otherwise take a whole lot of person hours."
"So you decided to trade off labour hours spent spinning and weaving for hours spent cutting firewood?" said Will. "I'm assuming your automation is powered by electric motors."
"Yes, and the electricity comes from generators spun by steam engines that burn wood" said Allan. "We looked closely at tradeoffs like that and they turn out to be quite effective at minimizing the labour it takes to support how we live. Though there are limits, and if you notice we're not doing somehting in the way of automation, that's probaby why. We value our free time and cuttng firewood is hard work."
"Sounds impressive," said Will. "I'd like to have a look at that tomorrow—both the textile and firewood operations."
"Sure," said Allan. "And now heading back..."
They retraced their steps, stopping by the double doors.
"Tomorrow I hope we can also have a look at our laundry and dish washing appliances," said Allan, "I'm rather proud of some of the innovations—different approaches open up when functionality, ease of repair and longevity replace planned obsolescence and the profit motive as the main priorities."
"Add them to the list," said Will. "You mentioned grey water?"
"Yes," said Allan. "There is a really big tank under this building where we hold our grey water until the gardens need it—like at this time of year."
"Sounds like a great idea," said Will. "Of course in Inverpen we can always get water from Lake Huron, but carrying it to where you need it gets old pretty fast."
"I'll bet it does," said Allan. "Anyway, I guess that's about it for now. We should go see how the girls are doing."
They made their way back outside and joined Sue and Erika at a table under the big tent. It was open on three sides, but had a wall on the west that stopped the sun from shining in at this time of day and thus helped keep the interior fairly cool. The material appeared to be waxed canvas, likely made from linen.
"What have you two been up to?" asked Sue.
"Allan was just showing me around the place," answered Will. "A whirlwind tour, you know. And quite a place it is. The MAMAS folks would be drooling over it."
"Mamas?" asked Allan.
"Mackenzie Avenue Mutual Aid Society," answered Will. "A group of neighbours we got together with during that big power outage in the summer of 2028. And which has been a major factor in getting us through some of the harder times since then. 'Course, it has spread at little farther than our one block street."
"Mutual aid, eh?" said Allan. "sounds similar to what we've got going here."
"We're not nearly as far along as you folks," said Will. "Though you've certainly been giving me ideas about things we could do differently."
"Should I be worried?" said Sue.
"I don't think so, but only time will tell," said Will. "What have you been up to?"
"Catching up with people I haven't seen in ages," said Sue. "Even some from as far away as Ottawa."
"Wow. Getting here from there must have been quite an adventure," said Will. "That would be Brenda and Sam, I assume?"
"Yep—they brought their grown up kids and their kids, and they are talking about staying here—joining Porcupine," said Sue. "And Mary and Nick as well, though they are heading home tomorrow. But you're right, an adventure for both groups."
As they continued chatting about friends and family they hadn't seen recently Will noticed that the few empty seats at the tables were filling up. Allan got up and left for a moment, but soon returned with an old fellow who was using a rollator—a walker with wheels.
"Will, Sue, this is Jack Collins," said Allan. "I was telling Will about the day we met and I want you to meet him.
Will stood and reached across the table to shake Jack's hand, which turned out to be quite firm despite his obviously advanced age. "A pleasure to meet you, Jack."
"Likewise," said Jack. "You might say this young fellow and your dad saved my life that day."
"So Allan tells me," said Will. Indicating the chair across from his, he went on, "Nobody's claimed that chair yet. Why don't you sit down and we can talk."
"Don't mind if I do," said Jack. "I gather you'd like to hear more about the history of this place."
"I would," said Will. "But—"
He was interrupted by a young fellow who had moved out in front of the tent, "Good evening folks. I'm Harry Livingston, with the Events Crew. I'd like to welcome you to supper tonight. On your table you'll notice a tent card with a number on it. We'd like you to form a line at the serving tables, starting with table number one. You can go up for seconds or dessert as soon as everyone has been through the line once."
"What number did we get?" asked Will.
"It's number one Will," said Sue. "So you don't have to worry about fading away to nothing."
"That's good news," he replied, never one to hang back when food was on offer. "Jack, why don't you sit down and we'll fill up a plate for you?"
"Thanks all the same," said Jack, "but I'd just as soon look after myself. For as long as I am able to, anyway."
"Well in that case, why don't you lead the way?" said Will.
"Now you're talkin'," said Jack. He rolled himself out from behind the table and led the way to the head of the line.
Everybody at table one followed him to the serving tables, where a young man in a chef's uniform had positioned himself at the left end in front of a large roast of beef. "How are you today, Jack?" he said.
"Still on the right side of the sod, Mike" said Jack. "Could I get a few slices from the center of the roast where it's nice and rare?"
Mike smiled and said, "Anticipating your request I've already cut it in half to access the middle,." He carved several slices, put them on the plate and handed it to Jack, who set the plate on the seat of the rollator and moved on.
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Mike LeBlanc, with the Cookin' Crew," said the chef when Will stepped up in front of him.
"G'day," said Will. "I'm Will Harper, Tom's younger brother. And this is my wife Sue. I like mine well done. Maybe some of the crisp part from the outside of the roast."
"Very good," said Mike and began to carve the nearer end of the roast, piling a generous number of slices on the plate and handing it to Will.
Will moved on and Sue stepped up in front of Mike, who asked, "And what is your preference, ma'am?"
A young women, next in line on the other side of the serving table, spoke up at that point, "Mike always forgets to tell our guests, but there are salt, pepper and butter at your table, along with vinegar, mustard, horse radish and Karen's special mustard/horse radish sauce."
"Pepper? How do you manage to get that?" asked Will. "It's been years since we've seen any black pepper in Inverpen.
"Same here," she answered, "but we've put together a blend of peppery tasting herbs, dried and ground, which make a reasonably good substitute."
"I'm looking forward to trying that," said Will.
They moved along the table piling their plates up with boiled new potatoes, peas, baby carrots, baby golden beets, fresh baked bread and an assortment of pickled vegetables.
The young woman at the far end of the first serving table, who had introduced herself as Tammy, said, "Drinks are on the next table. Fresh cold well water, sweet apple cider and hard cider from last year's apple harvest, two types of beer—a lager and a nice dark porter, and a red wine from a couple of years ago—the best year our vines have produced yet."
Will looked to the table past the drinks and saw that dessert was an assortment of fruit pies, accompanied by a large insulated tub of ice cream.
They all grabbed big glasses of water and made their way back to their seats at the table.
Will looked around, wondering what proper etiquette was for this situation. "Tell me, Jack," he said. "Do we wait for everybody else or just dig in?"
"Dig in, by all means," said Jack, "before it gets cold."
Will cut a bite of the beef and tried it. It was excellent, but he judged it still could benefit from some of Karen's sauce, which was in easy reach. He also put generous helpings of butter on the potatoes and other vegetables, and the slice of bread he'd taken. The veggies got salt and pepper as well, and the beets a dash of vinegar. He then set to with knife and fork and tried everything.
"Wow, this is good," said Will. "Of course we're used to fresh, locally grown food in Inverpen—there isn't any choice. But your Cookin' Crew clearly know what they are doing. In a lot of ways this reminds me of the grub we had on the farm when Tom and I were kids."
"No accident there," said Jack. "one of Tom's last requests was that we put on a meal like this for all the people who came to pay their respects."
"That does sound like him, " said Will. "Now Jack, when we got interrupted earlier, I was just about to ask you how things went for you going forward from the big outage in July of 2028 up until you joined Porcupine in the spring of 2030," said Will. "Most of the farmers I know are strong conservatives and it shades their perceptions. I understand your politics were more to the left even then..."
"They were," said Jack. "That period doesn't come up too often, but I see your point—my take on it likely is quite a bit different from the people you've been talking to."
He paused for a moment to think and then continued, "Let's see... in the summer of '28 Mary and I had pretty much given up on farming for profit, and instead were aiming for some degree of self-sufficiency, since it was clear to us that things would soon fall apart. We had twenty head of beef cattle on the place, a Holstein milk cow and a dozen laying hens. As well as pasture and hay for the cattle, we had a few acres each of wheat, corn, navy beans, and flax, a large potato patch and about a quarter of an acre of vegetable garden. We had twenty face cords of seasoned firewood in the wood shed, a stove for cooking and another for heating, a small diesel generator and a large tank of fuel. We thought we were ready for anything. Then the eco-terrorists hit, and the power was out for two weeks. And much longer, you’ll remember, in many other areas. We were reasonably well prepared, but faced with the reality of the situation I suddenly didn’t feel so smart.
“And of course it was a presidential election year in the States. Those were interesting times..."
Coming soon, episode 16, Jack talks about events in the years before Tom started Porcupine.
Maintaining the lists of links that I've been putting at the end of these posts in getting cumbersome, so I have decided to just include a link to the Porcupine section of the Site Map, which features links to all the episodes I've published thus far.
