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After so many months of struggle and sacrifice, the difficult journey was finally over. Lindiwe had arrived. In the town’s brief history, few had actually suffered as much as Lindiwe to reach Ashton Lovelock. Few could have withstood the hardship, rape and hunger. Few would have voluntarily paid so much from so little cost savings to make a home in the fifty year old English New Town.

Desperation had driven Lindiwe to severe procedures, as it had her fellow migrants who ‘d likewise endured the journey.

Lindiwe had not viewed 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 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 trail of excessively costly fossil fuel. She saw no airports and the majority of absolutely no passport controllers. Had she satisfied even one between Lesotho and London, she ‘d have been unceremoniously bundled away in the back of a migration police van either to be dumped back in her country of origin or apprehended in among the many refugee camps that lined the shores of North Africa. And from what Lindiwe had actually become aware of these camps, her probably fate there would be a lonely death while she waited for a decision from the many government agencies and personal charities that were fruitlessly arguing with one another over the duty for feeding the millions of desperate souls in their care.

Nobody would wish to be strained with such duty when there were many other more instant needs to deal with.

Lindiwe didn’t expect Ashton Lovelock to deal with illegal immigrants with any more compassion 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 numerous times when she ‘d needed to utilize her body as currency to keep her and her buddies safe. This had actually been the case from the extremely start of her journey when she ‘d had to sacrifice her virginity merely to secure an exit visa from the United States of South Africa. There were the weeks and, in the slums of Cairo, the months of working for very little pay and a lot of physical and spoken abuse in occupations that were even more menial than her post-graduate degree and professional training had ever prepared her for.

Here in the Kingdom of England, there might be an opportunity to make good the certifications that were surplus to requirements in Maseru. Lindiwe had high expect Ashton Lovelock. In spite of the crumbling decay of the hastily-built home she was remaining in, it was a relatively young town with energy-efficient real estate, substantial parking spaces, and an abundance of windmills and photovoltaic panels.

The reality was that Ashton Lovelock was a veritable paradise compared to her original home in Africa. The years of African famine had not minimized total population numbers by very much. Maseru still housed a population far greater than its infrastructure could support. The authorities were ineffectual versus the criminal gangs that made it harmful to venture out whether at day or night. The few offered tasks paid very inadequately if they ever paid at all. Homes and offices were collapsing from disregard. Queues of starving people wound through the high streets for the few goods the criminal gangs permitted to arrive in the shops. Only a lucky couple of were ever rewarded for their persistence.

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

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Aparo shared the same single bed mattress with Lindiwe in a room that had as soon as been a loft extension. Apara and Lindiwe shared the bed mattress in the daytime hours.

” There are no tasks at KFC-McDonalds,” stated Aparo, describing the franchise where she worked. “You’re just going to need to look for work elsewhere.”

Lindiwe’s heart sank. Since Mr and Mrs Martin would be there and there weren’t lots of places open in the night where she might hope to find work, she couldn’t sleep on the mattress at night. This suggested that her pursuit of work would also imply going without sleep.

Bleary-eyed and bored, after a night invested 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 opportunity. Not that there were lots of locations to check out 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 similarly desperate prospects.

Lindiwe soon understood that there were no jobs for her in Ashton Lovelock at all. The immigrant community had currently taken all the readily available low-paid opportunities. And this was much to the apparent distaste of native English residents, a number of whom honestly taunted Lindiwe with unsubtle reminders of the dishonest practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.

The ever-widening radius of her task search ultimately encompassed a business estate on the perimeter of Swindon where Lindiwe, at last, gained a position however as nothing more demanding than a nightshift cleaning-woman. This position required an expensive two-hour commute by bus followed by a half-hour walk it was still better than having to spend the entire night preventing the couple sleeping on her daytime mattress.

Her official jobs mainly included switching on and turning off the numerous cleaning machines and robots. Nevertheless, it wasn’t long till Lindiwe found that cleansing wasn’t everything she was anticipated to do, although it wasn’t composed into her terms and conditions of work (which, in any case, were totally verbal and agreed with a handshake).

During the first week that Lindiwe worked at the George Monbiot eco-business park, she ended up being aware of the existence of spaces that were out of bounds to her and the other night-time operatives. This was odd due to the fact that the only people supposed to be working at the workplaces so late at night were security guards and technical operatives.

It soon ended up being apparent what was happening when Lindiwe bumped into any of the people who ‘d been remaining in a locked space. Lindiwe likewise noticed the odor of sex that was sticking around on their person.

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

” Why don’t individuals go to whorehouses and massage parlours?” asked Lindiwe, who understood that her ongoing employment was likely conditional on her accepting this additional work.

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

And what they wanted was something Lindiwe now had to offer about twice a week in one of the a number of out-of-bound offices. There was a steady stream of consumers who came to delight in the low-cost satisfaction that immigrant labour was now providing: their cravings whetted by the VR fantasies they could enjoy in the comfort of their own houses.

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

In the town’s short 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 numerous federal government companies and private charities that were fruitlessly arguing with one another over the obligation for feeding the millions of desperate souls in their care.

Lindiwe didn’t expect Ashton Lovelock to deal with unlawful immigrants with any more kindness than Nairobi, Cairo, Harare, Sarajevo or Rotterdam would have done if her presence had actually been found by an authorities at any point on her voyage. 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 chance. And this was much to the evident distaste of native English residents, many of whom freely teased Lindiwe with unsubtle tips of the dishonest practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.