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Lindiwe had arrived. In the town’s short history, few had suffered as much as Lindiwe to reach Ashton Lovelock.

Desperation had driven Lindiwe to severe measures, as it had her fellow migrants who ‘d likewise made it through the journey.

Lindiwe had not seen the stops on her trip as a traveler might, although there were couple of European travelers who would venture into sub-Saharan Africa these days. What she saw of the countless miles in between Southern Africa and Northern Europe wasn’t through the round windows of an aeroplane soaring above the clouds and streaking ahead of a path of excessively expensive nonrenewable fuel source. She saw no airports and a lot of certainly no passport controllers. Had she fulfilled even one between Lesotho and London, she ‘d have been unceremoniously bundled away in the back of an immigration police van either to be discarded back in her country of origin or detained in one of the numerous refugee camps that lined the shores of North Africa. And from what Lindiwe had heard about these camps, her most likely fate there would be a lonesome death while she waited on a decision from the many government firms and personal charities that were fruitlessly arguing with one another over the duty for feeding the countless desperate souls in their care.

When there were so many other more immediate requirements to deal with, no one would desire to be strained with such duty.

Lindiwe didn’t expect Ashton Lovelock to treat illegal immigrants with any more generosity than Nairobi, Cairo, Harare, Sarajevo or Rotterdam would have done if her presence had been discovered by an authorities at any point on her voyage. And when she had actually been obliged to declare her existence, well…

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There had been several times when she ‘d needed to utilize her body as currency to keep her and her buddies safe. This had held true from the very start of her journey when she ‘d had to sacrifice her virginity simply to protect an exit visa from the United States of South Africa. There were the weeks and, in the run-down neighborhoods of Cairo, the months of working for really little pay and a lot of spoken and physical abuse in occupations that were even more routine than her post-graduate degree and expert training had actually ever prepared her for.

Here in the Kingdom of England, there might be a chance to make great the qualifications that were surplus to requirements in Maseru. Lindiwe had high hopes for Ashton Lovelock. In spite of the collapsing decay of the hastily-built home she was remaining in, it was a reasonably young town with energy-efficient real estate, comprehensive parking spaces, and a profusion of windmills and photovoltaic panels.

The truth was that Ashton Lovelock was a veritable paradise compared to her original home in Africa. The years of African scarcity had not reduced overall population numbers by really much. The few offered jobs paid extremely poorly if they ever paid at all.

This undoubtedly left a vacuum that was now being filled by the latest wave of immigrants: of which Lindiwe was one. She was just one of many. Many came from Africa, at least as many from the Middle East and Asia, and, undoubtedly, refugees from the racially intolerant Republic of North America.

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When been a loft extension, Aparo shared the very same single mattress with Lindiwe in a space that had. 3 mattresses filled almost all the offered floor space and each of them, consisting of the mattress the two good friends shared, was home to one set of individuals during the day and another during the night. Apara and Lindiwe shared the mattress in the daytime hours. At night, a black couple from Mississippi slept on the exact same mattress and frequently left behind the trace of semen stains.

” There are no tasks at KFC-McDonalds,” said Aparo, describing the franchise where she worked. “You’re just going to have to try to find work in other places.”

Lindiwe’s heart sank. She could not sleep on the mattress during the night since Mr and Mrs Martin would exist and there weren’t many places open at night where she might want to find work. This indicated that her pursuit of work would also indicate going without sleep.

Bleary-eyed and bored, after a night spent in the area of the bus depot in the business of others with absolutely nothing else to do, Lindiwe resolutely wandered the streets of Ashton Lovelock in the hunt for an employment opportunity. Not that there were lots of places to go to in the town centre. The proprietor of KFC-McDonalds, herself a South African immigrant, was supportive but pointed out that there was a long waiting list of similarly desperate candidates.

Lindiwe quickly realised that there were no jobs for her in Ashton Lovelock at all. The immigrant neighborhood had actually already taken all the offered low-paid chances. And this was much to the obvious distaste of native English residents, a lot of whom freely taunted Lindiwe with unsubtle reminders of the dishonest practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.

The ever-widening radius of her task search eventually included a business estate on the perimeter of Swindon where Lindiwe, at last, acquired a position but as nothing more demanding than a nightshift cleaning-woman. This position required a costly two-hour commute by bus followed by a half-hour walk it was still much better than having to invest the whole night avoiding the couple sleeping on her daytime bed mattress.

Her official jobs mainly included switching on and turning off the numerous cleaning devices and robots. Nevertheless, it wasn’t long until Lindiwe discovered that cleaning wasn’t everything she was expected to do, although it wasn’t written into her conditions of work (which, in any case, were entirely verbal and agreed with a handshake).

Throughout the first week that Lindiwe operated at the George Monbiot eco-business park, she became aware of the existence of spaces that ran out bounds to her and the other night-time operatives. There would inevitably be an e-paper sign published on the door of these rooms that requested that they be cleaned later on. In case there might be some misconception, these doors were locked from the inside. This was odd since the only people supposed to be operating at the workplaces so late at night were security guards and technical operatives.

It soon ended up being evident what was occurring when Lindiwe bumped into any of the individuals who ‘d been staying in a locked space. Lindiwe also noticed the smell of sex that was sticking around on their person.

” I like all the personnel to chip in,” Lindiwe’s boss described as he handed her the meagre rewards for her first week’s work. He was a slender dark-skinned male with a turban and a West Midlands accent. He was an exile who ‘d returned home after the modification of government. “The benefits are additional pay. I can’t promise a fortune but ideas can make a difference.”

” Why do not individuals go to brothels and massage parlours?” asked Lindiwe, who comprehended that her ongoing work was almost certainly conditional on her accepting this extra work.

” The change of government brought about many good opportunities,” Mr Singh stated with a sigh, “otherwise I would not be here, of course. This operation is comparable to many others you’ll find all over this country.

And what they wanted was something Lindiwe now had to supply about two times a week in among the a number of out-of-bound workplaces. They were provided with rather fundamental beds instead of computers, desks and chairs. The felt-covered partitions around each cubicle now served the function of hiding what was going on. There was a stable stream of clients who pertained to delight in the affordable pleasures that immigrant labour was now supplying: their appetites whetted by the VR fantasies they could enjoy in the convenience of their own homes.

For Lindiwe, this supplied no enjoyment at all up until she squeezed into the workplace shower with the other nightshift cleaners to spray off the semen, urine and other bodily fluids that the customers thought was a necessary part of love-making but during which experience the vaginal penetration was probably the least horrible part.

In the town’s brief history, few had suffered as much as Lindiwe to reach Ashton Lovelock. And from what Lindiwe had heard about these camps, her most likely fate there would be a lonely death while she waited for a choice from the many federal government agencies and private charities that were fruitlessly arguing with one another over the responsibility for feeding the millions of desperate souls in their care.

Lindiwe didn’t expect Ashton Lovelock to treat prohibited immigrants with any more compassion than Nairobi, Cairo, Harare, Sarajevo or Rotterdam would have done if her presence had actually been discovered by an authorities at any point on her trip. Bleary-eyed and bored, after a night invested in the area of the bus depot in the business of others with nothing else to do, Lindiwe resolutely wandered the streets of Ashton Lovelock in the hunt for a work opportunity. And this was much to the apparent distaste of native English people, many of whom openly taunted Lindiwe with unsubtle suggestions of the dishonest practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.

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