LITMIR.BIZ

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engineering and building. That was bearable.” Oë wat skaars asemhaal.

      Fok, dink Dick. Dís die Hardborn-apatie waaroor Salt Vaals so graag kla.

      “I …” begin die seun. Hy bly stil, maar sy oë bly op Dick.

      Wat sien die kind? ’n Kaalgeskeerde kop wat die receding hairline moet wegvee en die littekens – herinneringe aan ’n tyd voor gholfsims – moet ontbloot? ’n Grys baard wat die kwynende kaak moet herstel? Ja. Sy pa se vanity kom knaag aan sy ouderdom se wysheid.

      “Hoekom kom jy nie ’n bietjie weg nie? Die sonplaas of ’n nederset …” vra Dick.

      Die seun lig sy skouers. “Isn’t that worse? It’s Meconium, but without MecRec and MecShack.”

      Die seun stop, wys na die Staff Room se toe deur en loop sonder om te groet.

      “Dick.” Salt staan op, skuif ’n stoel vir Dick uit, gaan sit, staan weer op.

      “So erg?” sê Dick en knik vir die mense om die tafel.

      “If he gives you the chair with the view, you should know,” sê Khanyi Brand. Haar stofswart hare staan woes uitgekam om haar kop. Die enkele grys streep wat van haar linkerslaap na die agterkant van haar nek strek, is afgerond met twee dun blou strepe.

      Dick hou van haar. Sy’t goetspa.

      Twee van die ander is ook deel van Saadbeskerming – hy ken hulle – maar ’n jong vrou en middeljarige man is onbekend. Salt sien hy kyk na hulle.

      “Oh, yes, they’re not part of our unit. Teli Greene, from the Psych Department.”

      “Hi,” sê die vrou.

      “And Yusuf Wiese – Food Science.”

      Die man dra ’n goedgesnyde pak. Nié uit die Issue-klerebank nie.

      “They both have some info on the current broader food situation. Yusuf, if you’d like to start?”

      “Yes, thank you.”

      Yusuf sit sy Pulse op die tafel en flip die holoskren met sy vinger na bo.

      “When it comes to the stats on our side, the problem is quite simple. As most of you know, the stored goods from pre-Hardship were officially only used till ’66. It sounded good to say that Meconium became self-sufficient after a mere five years. This was the stock in ’61, beginning of the Hardship.”

      Hy swipe en ’n render van die stoorkamer in Food Science se drie kelderverdiepings kom op.

      “The bottom floor is mostly grains and insect flour. The middle one: dried and canned legumes and other vegetables. The top one: oil, sugar, spices and supplements.”

      Hy swipe weer.

      “This is ’66.”

      Die inhoud is nie veel minder nie.

      “How’s that possible?” vra ’n jonge van Saadbeskerming.

      “In the first few years, we found a few underground factories that had not been raided. So we could top up,” sê Yusuf. “Some people had a private stash of canned goods to fall back on.”

      Dick onthou sy laaste blik gerookte sardientjies met chakalaka. Die vreugde en sonde daarvan.

      “But in the last few years we’ve seen a change in people’s expectations,” sê Yusuf – hy kyk na Salt; hy’s op die verdediging. Sou hy weet van die gerugte van extravagant parties, gehou deur Food Science employees? “But we’ve been managing it at Portions,” sê hy.

      Salt knik. Khanyi rol haar oë.

      “Anyway.” Yusuf swipe weer. “This is current stock.”

      ’n Paar asems word skerp ingetrek.

      “The lie is starting to catch up with us.” Yusuf haal ’n Absorber uit sy sak en vee oor sy voorkop.

      Dick vryf oor sy oë. Hy’t sy lus vir gholf verloor. Nuttelose tydverdryf. Hy wil by die Recycling Plant wees. Hy wil aan Beauty peuter. Sou Sias Smous dalk op sy trip deur die nedersets vir hom die oorspronklike stuurwiel kon spoor?

      “So, with the amount and quality of the food coming in at the moment, we’ll be in trouble soon,” sê Yusuf. “As it is, our Staple’s nutritional value is barely adequate and, as you can see, the store facilities …”

      “How many years left, based on last year’s food production?” vra Salt.

      “Three, maybe four. Only two years of Staple that meets daily requirements.”

      “And the weather fundis are predicting ’76 to ’78’s Imbalela to repeat itself,” sê Dick.

      Stilte.

      Teli sit vorentoe in haar stoel. “This is obviously bad news, but particularly so in light of our findings. Ten years ago, when the supplements were reduced after Celebrate 10, morale went up with an average of two points out of ten. Depression and depression symptoms went down from twenty-three to sixteen percent between ’71 and ’76. With the increase of supplements in ’76, and then again in ’78, morale went down by three points. Depression and depression symptoms are at twenty-two percent.”

      “What have supplements got to do with this?” vra een van die Saadbeskerming-mense.

      “When you give people more supplements, they feel that we’re in trouble foodwise; they feel we’re reverting to artificiality,” antwoord Teli. “Their hope for the future – if you want to call it that – is affected. Those prone to anxiety and depression get more anxious and depressed.”

      “So what is the Psych Department’s message to us?” vra Salt.

      “Something needs to be done. Both the Institute for Natural Health and the Centre for Medical Research are reluctant to produce more supplements and we’re not recommending it. We think additional trade with some of the nedersets or the Chinese enclave should be negotiated. We can provide them with supplements in exchange for food, seeds, whatever.”

      Dick skud sy kop. Salt lig sy mondhoek.

      “Do you think they’re doing any better?” vra Salt.

      “Well, Skandinawië, then.”

      “There’s an embargo till ’86. You know that just as well as we do, Teli.” Salt is besig om sy geduld te verloor. Dis oor die vinger in die laaste plek na die Kweekhuis en die Saadbeskermingseenheid gewys sal word.

      “The embargo should be renegotiated when their people arrive for the weekend celebrations. Something needs to be done.”

      “Yes. Yes,” sê Salt. Hy loop met kort treë deur toe. “Well, Teli, Yusuf, thanks for your time. I think we all have a better grip on the situation now. And we’ll get back to you with our strategies.”

      “Shit!” sê hy deur sy tande terwyl hy die deur toemaak. “What do you have, Dick?” vra hy, maar hy kyk nie na Dick nie. Hy kyk na waar Tafelberg anderkant die stof moet wees.

      “Not much. The last Specimen contestant came back, but I haven’t been able to get hold of him. He’s like a celebrity, so … I’ll debrief him tomorrow.”

      “Tonight,” sê Salt.

      “It’s the Celebrate 20 Atrem parties. I doubt if I’ll –”

      “Tonight, Dick. You thought that was the bad news.” Salt kyk na Khanyi. “Hit us.”

      “Dwayne compiled the report,” sê Khanyi.

      “Right,” begin Dwayne. Hy lyk nervous. Hy’s jonk. Dick skat hom in sy vroeë twintigs. Sy te lang arms maak groot bewegings al het hy nog nie begin praat nie.

      Khanyi bring ’n beeld na vore met haar Pulse.

      “Our yearly tests were done on all the grains,” begin Dwayne, sy hande nou bymekaargebring onder sy ken. “On

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