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After many months of battle and sacrifice, the difficult journey was lastly over. Lindiwe had arrived. In the town’s short history, few had suffered as much as Lindiwe to reach Ashton Lovelock. Few might have sustained the hunger, adversity and rape. 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 extreme procedures, as it had her fellow migrants who ‘d likewise survived the journey.

Lindiwe had not viewed the stops on her trip as a tourist might, although there were few European tourists 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 overlooking the clouds and spotting ahead of a trail of prohibitively costly fossil fuel. She saw no airports and many absolutely no passport controllers. Had she fulfilled even one in between Lesotho and London, she ‘d have been unceremoniously bundled away in the back of a migration police van either to be disposed back in her native land or apprehended in one of the countless refugee camps that lined the coasts of North Africa. And from what Lindiwe had actually heard about these camps, her probably fate there would be a lonesome death while she waited for a choice from the many federal government firms and personal charities that were fruitlessly arguing with one another over the responsibility for feeding the millions of desperate souls in their care.

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

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 found by an official at any point on her trip. And when she had been obliged to declare her presence, well…

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There had been numerous times when she ‘d needed to use her body as currency to keep her and her buddies safe. This had actually held true from the very start of her journey when she ‘d had to compromise 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 professions that were much 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 good 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 staying in, it was a fairly young town with energy-efficient real estate, extensive parking spaces, and a profusion of windmills and solar panels.

The truth was that Ashton Lovelock was a genuine paradise compared to her initial house in Africa. The years of African starvation had not decreased general population numbers by very much. The couple of readily available tasks paid extremely badly if they ever paid at all.

This inevitably left a vacuum that was now being filled by the newest wave of immigrants: of which Lindiwe was one. She was only one of numerous. Many 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 very 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,” said Aparo, describing the franchise where she worked. “You’re just going to have to try to find work somewhere else.”

Lindiwe’s heart sank. She couldn’t sleep on the mattress at night due to the fact that Mr and Mrs Martin would be there and there weren’t many places open in the evening where she could want to find work. This indicated that her pursuit of work would likewise imply going without sleep.

However, bleary-eyed and bored, 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 locations to go to in the town centre. The proprietor of KFC-McDonalds, herself a South African immigrant, was sympathetic however explained that there was a long waiting list of similarly desperate prospects. The other fast-food chain, Yo Sushi Pizza Hut, was rather less friendly and more or less informed her that just Muslim guys might use. Besides that, the only grocery store– a Tesco-Walmart– was freely hostile and informed her that the company had a policy of reporting thought immigrants. So there was little hope there either.

Lindiwe quickly realised that there were no tasks for her in Ashton Lovelock at all. The immigrant community had actually currently taken all the readily available low-paid opportunities. And this was much to the obvious distaste of native English residents, 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 encompassed 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 needed a costly two-hour commute by bus followed by a half-hour walk it was still much better than having to spend the whole night preventing the couple sleeping on her daytime bed mattress.

Her main tasks mostly included switching on and turning off the numerous cleaning devices and robots. It wasn’t long up until Lindiwe found that cleaning wasn’t everything she was expected to do, although it wasn’t composed into her terms and conditions of work (which, in any case, were completely spoken and concurred with a handshake).

During the very first week that Lindiwe worked at the George Monbiot eco-business park, she became aware of the existence of rooms that were out of bounds to her and the other night-time operatives. There would invariably be an e-paper indication published on the door of these rooms that asked for that they be cleaned up later on. In case there might be some misconception, these doors were locked from the within. Due to the fact that the only individuals supposed to be working at the offices so late at night were security guards and technical operatives, this was odd.

It soon became apparent what was taking place when Lindiwe bumped into any of the individuals who ‘d been remaining in a locked space. Lindiwe likewise noticed the odor of sex that was lingering on their individual.

” I like all the staff to chip in,” Lindiwe’s manager discussed as he handed her the meagre rewards for her first week’s work. He was an exile who ‘d returned home after the change of federal government.

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

” The change of federal government brought about lots of great opportunities,” Mr Singh said with a sigh, “otherwise I wouldn’t be here, of course. This operation is comparable to numerous others you’ll find all over this country.

And what they desired was something Lindiwe now had to offer about twice a week in one of the numerous out-of-bound offices. There was a consistent stream of customers who came to delight in the economical satisfaction that immigrant labour was now providing: their appetites whetted by the VR dreams they could enjoy in the convenience of their own houses.

For Lindiwe, this provided no satisfaction at all till she squeezed into the workplace shower with the other nightshift cleaners to spray off the semen, urine and other bodily fluids that the consumers thought was a needed part of love-making but throughout which ordeal the vaginal penetration was probably the least horrible part.

In the town’s brief history, few had actually 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 lonesome death while she waited for a decision from the many government agencies and private 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 kindness than Nairobi, Cairo, Harare, Sarajevo or Rotterdam would have done if her presence had been found by an official at any point on her trip. Bleary-eyed and bored, after a night spent in the area 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 a work opportunity. And this was much to the apparent distaste of native English people, numerous of whom honestly taunted Lindiwe with unsubtle tips of the dishonest practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.