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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.
Desperation had driven Lindiwe to extreme procedures, as it had her fellow migrants who ‘d likewise survived the journey.
Lindiwe hadn’t seen the stops on her voyage as a tourist might, although there were few European travelers who would venture into sub-Saharan Africa nowadays. What she saw of the thousands of miles between Southern Africa and Northern Europe wasn’t through the round windows of an aeroplane soaring above the clouds and spotting ahead of a trail of prohibitively pricey nonrenewable fuel source. She saw no airports and most certainly no passport controllers. Had she satisfied 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 native land or apprehended in among the countless refugee camps that lined the coasts of North Africa. And from what Lindiwe had found out about these camps, her most likely fate there would be a lonesome death while she waited on a decision from the many federal government firms and private charities that were fruitlessly arguing with one another over the obligation for feeding the countless desperate souls in their care.
Nobody would wish to be burdened with such obligation when there were so many other more immediate requirements to deal with.
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 official at any point on her trip. And when she had actually been obliged to declare her existence, well…
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There had been a number of times when she ‘d had to utilize her body as currency to keep her and her companions safe. This had actually held true from the extremely start of her journey when she ‘d needed to compromise her virginity just 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 extremely little pay and a lot of physical and spoken abuse in professions that were far more routine than her post-graduate degree and professional training had ever prepared her for.
Here in the Kingdom of England, there might be a chance to make great the credentials that were surplus to requirements in Maseru. Lindiwe had high hopes for Ashton Lovelock. Despite the collapsing decay of the hastily-built home she was staying in, it was a reasonably young town with energy-efficient housing, extensive parking spaces, and an abundance of windmills and photovoltaic panels.
The fact was that Ashton Lovelock was a genuine paradise compared to her original home in Africa. The years of African famine had not reduced total population numbers by very much. Maseru still housed a population far greater than its facilities might support. The police were ineffectual versus the criminal gangs that made it hazardous to venture out whether at day or night. If they ever paid at all, the few available tasks paid extremely improperly. Homes and offices were collapsing from overlook. Queues of starving people wound through the high streets for the few goods the criminal gangs allowed to show up in the shops. Just a lucky few were ever rewarded for their perseverance.
This inevitably left a vacuum that was now being filled by the newest wave of immigrants: of which Lindiwe was one. She was just one of lots of. Lots of came from Africa, at least as numerous 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 mattress with Lindiwe in a space that had actually once been a loft extension. 3 bed mattress filled almost all the readily available flooring space and each of them, including the bed mattress the two friends shared, was house to one set of people during the day and another during the night. Apara and Lindiwe shared the mattress in the daylight hours. At night, a black married couple from Mississippi slept on the very same mattress and regularly left behind the trace of semen stains.
” There are no tasks at KFC-McDonalds,” said Aparo, referring to the franchise where she worked. “You’re simply going to have to try to find work somewhere else.”
Lindiwe’s heart sank. Because Mr and Mrs Martin would be there and there weren’t many places open in the night where she might hope to discover work, she could not sleep on the bed mattress at night. This indicated that her pursuit of work would likewise suggest going without sleep.
Bored and bleary-eyed, after a night spent in the vicinity of the bus depot in the company of others with 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 check out in the town centre. The proprietor of KFC-McDonalds, herself a South African immigrant, was considerate however pointed out that there was a long waiting list of equally desperate prospects.
Lindiwe quickly understood that there were no tasks for her in Ashton Lovelock at all. The immigrant community had already taken all the available low-paid opportunities. And this was much to the apparent distaste of native English citizens, many of whom honestly ridiculed Lindiwe with unsubtle reminders of the dishonest practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.
The ever-widening radius of her job search eventually included a service estate on the border of Swindon where Lindiwe, at last, gained a position but as absolutely nothing more requiring than a nightshift cleaning-woman. This position required an expensive two-hour commute by bus followed by a half-hour walk it was still much better than having to spend the entire night preventing the couple sleeping on her daytime mattress.
Her main tasks mainly included changing on and turning off the various cleansing makers and robots. However, it wasn’t long until Lindiwe discovered that cleansing wasn’t everything she was expected to do, although it wasn’t written into her terms and conditions of work (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 aware of the presence of rooms that were out of bounds to her and the other night-time operatives. There would usually be an e-paper indication published on the door of these spaces that asked for that they be cleaned up later on. In case there might be some misunderstanding, these doors were locked from the within. Because the only individuals expected to be working at the workplaces so late at night were security guards and technical operatives, this was odd.
It quickly became apparent what was taking place when Lindiwe bumped into any of the individuals who ‘d been staying in a locked space. Lindiwe also discovered the smell of sex that was sticking around on their person.
” I like all the staff to chip in,” Lindiwe’s manager explained as he handed her the meagre benefits for her very 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 government. “The advantages are additional pay. I can’t assure a fortune however ideas can make a distinction.”
” Why don’t 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 brought about numerous great possibilities,” Mr Singh stated with a sigh, “otherwise I would not be here, of course. This operation is comparable to lots of others you’ll discover all over this nation.
And what they wanted was something Lindiwe now had to supply about two times a week in one of the numerous out-of-bound workplaces. They were provided with rather basic beds instead of desks, computers and chairs. The felt-covered partitions around each cubicle now served the function of concealing what was going on. There was a consistent stream of clients who came to enjoy the affordable pleasures that immigrant labour was now providing: their hungers whetted by the VR dreams they could enjoy in the comfort of their own houses.
For Lindiwe, this offered no satisfaction 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 believed was a required 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 suffered as much as Lindiwe to reach Ashton Lovelock. And from what Lindiwe had actually heard about these camps, her most likely fate there would be a lonely death while she waited for a choice from the lots of federal government companies and personal charities that were fruitlessly arguing with one another over the duty for feeding the millions of desperate souls in their care.
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 existence had actually been discovered by an official at any point on her trip. Bleary-eyed and bored, after a night invested in the area of the bus depot in the company of others with nothing else to do, Lindiwe resolutely roamed the streets of Ashton Lovelock in the hunt for an employment opportunity. And this was much to the evident distaste of native English citizens, numerous of whom openly taunted Lindiwe with unsubtle pointers of the unethical practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.
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