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

But desperation had driven Lindiwe to extreme procedures, as it had her fellow migrants who ‘d likewise survived the journey.

Lindiwe had not seen the stops on her voyage as a traveler might, although there were few European tourists who would venture into sub-Saharan Africa these days. What she saw of the thousands of miles between Southern Africa and Northern Europe wasn’t through the round windows of an aeroplane overlooking the clouds and spotting ahead of a path of excessively costly fossil fuel. She saw no airports and many definitely no passport controllers. Had she met even one between Lesotho and London, she ‘d have been unceremoniously bundled away in the back of a migration paddy wagon either to be dumped back in her native land or detained in one of the countless refugee camps that lined the coasts of North Africa. And from what Lindiwe had become aware of these camps, her more than likely fate there would be a lonesome death while she waited for a decision from the many federal government companies and private charities that were fruitlessly arguing with one another over the duty for feeding the countless desperate souls in their care.

Nobody would wish to be burdened with such responsibility when there were a lot of other more instant needs to attend to.

Lindiwe didn’t anticipate Ashton Lovelock to deal with illegal immigrants with any more kindness than Nairobi, Cairo, Harare, Sarajevo or Rotterdam would have done if her presence had been discovered by an authorities at any point on her trip. And when she had been obliged to state her existence, well…

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

Here in the Kingdom of England, there might be an opportunity to make great the qualifications that were surplus to requirements in Maseru. Lindiwe had high hopes for Ashton Lovelock. Regardless of the crumbling decay of the hastily-built house she was remaining in, it was a fairly young town with energy-efficient real estate, comprehensive parking spaces, and an abundance of windmills and solar panels.

The fact was that Ashton Lovelock was a veritable paradise compared to her original house in Africa. The years of African famine had not reduced general population numbers by very much. The few readily available jobs paid extremely badly 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 lots of. Lots of 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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Aparo shared the same single mattress with Lindiwe in a room that had when been a loft extension. Apara and Lindiwe shared the mattress in the daytime hours.

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

Lindiwe’s heart sank. Since Mr and Mrs Martin would be there and there weren’t many places open in the night where she could hope to discover work, she couldn’t sleep on the mattress at night. This indicated that her pursuit of employment would likewise mean going without sleep.

Bleary-eyed and bored, after a night spent in the vicinity 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 a work chance. Not that there were numerous places to go to in the town centre. The proprietor of KFC-McDonalds, herself a South African immigrant, was sympathetic but pointed out that there was a long waiting list of equally desperate prospects.

Lindiwe soon realised that there were no tasks for her in Ashton Lovelock at all. The immigrant community had already taken all the offered low-paid opportunities. And this was much to the obvious distaste of native English citizens, a lot of whom honestly ridiculed Lindiwe with unsubtle suggestions of the dishonest practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.

The ever-widening radius of her job search ultimately incorporated a business estate on the border of Swindon where Lindiwe, at last, acquired a position but as absolutely nothing more requiring than a nightshift cleaning-woman. Although this position required an expensive two-hour commute by bus followed by a half-hour walk it was still better than needing to invest the entire night avoiding the couple sleeping on her daytime mattress.

Her official tasks primarily involved changing on and switching off the different cleansing machines and robots. It wasn’t long till Lindiwe discovered that cleansing wasn’t everything she was anticipated to do, although it wasn’t composed into her terms and conditions of employment (which, in any case, were entirely spoken and agreed with a handshake).

Throughout the very first week that Lindiwe worked at the George Monbiot eco-business park, she became mindful of the presence of rooms that were out of bounds to her and the other night-time operatives. This was odd since the only people supposed to be working at the workplaces so late at night were security guards and technical operatives.

It soon became apparent what was taking place when Lindiwe bumped into any of the people who ‘d been staying in a locked space. Lindiwe likewise discovered the odor of sex that was remaining on their person.

” I like all the personnel to chip in,” Lindiwe’s boss explained as he handed her the meagre benefits for her very first week’s work. He was an exile who had actually returned home after the change of federal government.

” Why do not people go to brothels and massage parlours?” asked Lindiwe, who understood that her continued work was almost certainly conditional on her accepting this additional work.

” The change of federal government caused lots of good chances,” Mr Singh said with a sigh, “otherwise I would not be here, of course. One step the new federal government also introduced was to close the illegal sex facilities that were an informal sanctuary for the immigrant ladies who had actually remained on in the country, despite the consistent pressure to leave. This operation resembles numerous others you’ll discover all over this nation. It’s a way for business Park’s property owners to use empty spaces in workplaces that would otherwise be decommissioned and for the punters to get what they desire.”

And what they wanted was something Lindiwe now had to offer about twice a week in one of the numerous out-of-bound workplaces. There was a consistent stream of consumers who came to enjoy the economical enjoyments that immigrant labour was now offering: their appetites whetted by the VR dreams they could enjoy in the convenience of their own homes.

For Lindiwe, this supplied no satisfaction 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 believed was a needed part of love-making but throughout which ordeal the vaginal penetration was probably the least horrible part.

In the town’s short history, few had actually 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 decision from the numerous federal government firms 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 anticipate Ashton Lovelock to deal with unlawful immigrants with any more generosity than Nairobi, Cairo, Harare, Sarajevo or Rotterdam would have done if her presence had been discovered by an official at any point on her voyage. Bleary-eyed and bored, after a night invested in the area of the bus depot in the company of others with absolutely 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 evident distaste of native English residents, numerous of whom freely teased Lindiwe with unsubtle pointers of the unethical practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.