Poem: "People of Every Ethnic Persuasion"
Jan. 16th, 2026 01:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysabetwordsmithThis poem is spillover from the June 4, 2024 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by prompts from see_also_friend, rix_scaedu, and wyld_dandelyon. It also fills the "Activism" square in my 6-1-24 card for the Pride Fest Bingo. This poem has been sponsored by fuzzyred. It belongs to the Rutledge thread of the Polychrome Heroics series.
"People of Every Ethnic Persuasion"
[Thursday, June 2, 2016]
Gideon Wheeler walked through
Family Business Rest, supervising
the mad scramble of aid workers
and refugees from the earthquake.
Rutledge had decided to take in
at least a couple hundred people,
brought in by bus, train, or teleport.
More had shown up outside of
the official transit, and there were
others flooding into nearby places
like Emerald Mountain Glen, where
two hippie teleporters had landed
with busloads of refugees in need.
Not all of those would be staying
here at the hotel, but it was still
getting really crowded really fast.
There was so much stuff going on that
Gideon had needed to print out maps of
which stations offered what services so
folks could stamp the page to keep track
of the ones they had already visited and tell
what they still needed to hunt down and do.
The lobby held the most critical booths where
people could get a special "refugee ID card"
in case they'd lost everything in the Big One,
a list of government aid available to them,
references to medical resources, and so on.
The Children's Playroom had been turned into
a daycare for anyone who needed a safe place
to park their kids while they handled adult details,
run by some young parents, mostly Syrian ones.
Kraken had kindly sent over a thrash coach for
the Gym to handle people who best dealt with
stress by hitting something meant to be hit.
Tower A was bustling with more services for
the unsettled people streaming into the hotel.
The theater in Function Room 1 was looping
a ten-minute "Welcome to Rutledge" film made
hastily by students at the College of St. Joseph
in a rotation of English, French, and Arabic tracks.
Function Rooms 2-4 had been opened up into
their megaspace format and crammed with
all the resources Rutledge could provide.
Most of the same folks were there who had
welcomed the Syrian refugees two years ago,
but there were some new offerings from locals
and now the Syrians had their own organizations
enthusiastically setting up tables to pay it forward.
Over in Tower B, the Game Room had a booth
handing out burner phones already loaded
with stacking-sorting games like Tetris and
self-help software for coping with trauma.
The Yoga Room was doing meditation and
other relaxing activities led by volunteers.
Once again, Gideon was trying to offer
families with young children first choice
among units on the first floor, although
the larger units were all upstairs.
There were so many people who
needed new homes, or at least
the temporary ones he had.
He saw Noemie moving through
the crowd, offering to translate
things for people who wanted help.
She spoke Arabic, English, Esperanto,
French, German, Hebrew, Italian, and
Spanish. Rutledge had invited speakers
of Arabic and French in particular, and
some of them needed the support.
Gideon was so glad that they
had gotten together. He'd been
really lonely before meeting her.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
"You look about as busy as I feel."
"Busy, but effective," said Noemie.
"Most of the French speakers also
know English, but not very many of
the Arabic speakers do. We got
some Spanish-only speakers too."
"Yeah, the West Coast has a lot
of those," said Gideon. "I know that
you'll take good care of them, though."
Then someone waved urgently for
Noemie, and someone else was
trying to get his attention too.
"Hey, Gideon, over here!"
called Dell Evergreen. She
had a table under a banner
for the Green Mountaineers,
an outdoor adventure club for
veterans and other disabled folks.
"What do you need?" he asked.
"I'm making the rounds to do
whatever I can for people."
"If you see any people with
disabilities, especially new ones,
send them our way," said Dell.
"The hospital is mobbed and
couldn't spare anyone to set up
an accessibility station here."
"I can do that," said Gideon.
He used his smartphone to make
a note of the lack on the website
set up for refugees. "Do you
have any handouts for them?"
Dell gave him a handful of
business cards, which he
stored in the large organizer
that he had gotten for today.
Right next to that was a table
for the Aitken Teen Art Troupe
with Siobhan McDowell giving out
basic art supplies like pencils, paper,
and folding watercolor paint sets.
A large sign with a boy's picture read,
Are you overloaded? That's okay!
Henry Flanders dislikes crowds too.
He is in Oak Pocket doing art.
Grab a map and go join him.
Below that was a stack of maps
showing the way to Oak Pocket,
a family-owned woodlot that
was open to the public.
"Could you use more
art supplies for this?"
Gideon asked Siobhan.
"Always," she said. "What
kind of things do you have?"
"A storage room of office supplies,"
said Gideon. "I could bring you
a box of paper, pencils, and pens."
"Yes, please!" Siobhan said eagerly.
"And paperclips? Those things work
surprisingly well for wire sculpture."
"Coming right up," said Gideon.
He went to the storage room and
then piled a cart with a case of paper,
a stack of blank notepads, boxes of
pens and pencils in different colors,
and a case each of paper clips
in larger and smaller sizes.
"Here you go," he told Siobhan.
"I hope that the supplies help."
Culbart Lidmann manned a table
for the Triton Teen Center, which
was almost hidden from view
behind a wall of young people.
Gideon hoped that Culbart was
managing to find the runaways
among the conventional refugees.
The news had already reported that
people were going missing, especially
the young and vulnerable, and even at
the best of times Gideon didn't really
know how to handle runaway teens.
Best leave that sort of challenge to
the experts. He wouldn't quibble
just because former supervillains
worked at the Triton Teen Center.
One whole cluster of tables stood
behind a banner that proclaimed,
Rutledge Refugee Job Fair --
Do you need to find work?
We need to find workers!
Rutledge had long had
a shortage of people to fill
jobs, which is why Gideon had
gotten by with little more than
a skeleton crew at the hotel.
The Syrians had helped with
that, as they had around town.
Gideon's own concierge was
one of them -- Rakin Hamidi had
only been thirteen when Gideon
hired him to keep Family Services
from hassling his wife and daughter --
and was the best second hand that
Gideon had ever gotten to work with.
Another booth had a sign saying,
Do you want to start a new career?
Check out our lists of top fields that
desperately need more people!
Training for these is all free and
comes with job search assistance.
The Syrians had taken advantage
of such opportunities when they'd
arrived, and it helped them create
new businesses and thus more jobs.
Now Labib Abdel and Oscar Patton
staffed a big booth that advertised
the Rutledge Business Incubator
with its production and office spaces.
"Hi, Gideon," said Oscar. "Can we ask
about these function rooms some time?"
"They're available to rent, but not
this week," said Gideon. "We'll
need all the space we can get
for refugee stuff. You remember
what a madhouse it was last time."
"Yeah, but you handled it better
than I did," Oscar muttered.
Labib patted his shoulder.
"It was enough," he said.
"We will learn from that time
and make this time better."
"We thought that it would be
more convenient for new folks
to attend presentations here,
rather than making them come
to the incubator," said Oscar.
"Here, call me next week,"
said Gideon. "If you're doing
things for the refugees, I can
probably make space for you."
Another large cluster of booths
held various selections of food
that people were giving away.
Penina Trueblood was there
from Eat Wisely Rutledge with
a massive stack of My Diet boxes.
One whole wall of them was halal,
along with piles of vegan, organic,
hypoallergenic, and a few more for
assorted types of special needs.
The Syrians had eaten mostly from
My Diet boxes until the stores could
set up sections full of halal foods.
"Oh, Gideon, I was hoping to see
you today," said Penina. "We had
an idea over at Eat Wisely. Would
you like us to set up a breakfast bar
and maybe lunch here? It can't be
cheap feeding all these extra people,
and government money takes time."
"Yes, please!" said Gideon. "I was
planning to cover it with cheap things
like oatmeal and pastries, but if you
can do better, by all means pitch in."
He hadn't been able to put out
the usual spread today, because
there simply no room left for it.
Penina gave him a business card.
"Call me when things calm down
enough to discuss food options."
"Thank you so much," Gideon said.
"I need all the help that I can get."
He had volunteered to house
the earthquake refugees, but he
remembered how hectic it had been
with the Syrian refugees, for weeks.
Kardal, who ran a Syrian food truck,
was there along with a zakat official
at a smaller table full of vouchers.
"I thought zakat was for Muslims?"
Gideon said. "Can it go to anyone?"
"It's primarily for Muslims and our allies,
but there are certain categories to follow,"
said Kardal. "These include the needy
and the destitute, the traveler in distress,
and those whose hearts are to be reconciled.
Helping people is a good way to make friends."
Glancing at the small table, Gideon saw that
the zakat official had booklets of vouchers
marked Earthquake Refugees as well as
the usual Widows and Orphans, Qur'an,
Wudumate, and other familiar options.
"That's certainly true," Gideon agreed. "I'm
sure everyone will be grateful, especially
our new Muslims, and we've also got
new hippies spilling over from the ones
who wound up at Emerald Mountain glen."
Kardal grinned at him. "We're trading
recipes," he said. "I made a pamphlet."
Gideon picked one up and looked at it.
"Za'atar Maple Everything: An Introduction
to Syrian-Vermont Food," he read. "Well,
that sounds like a great way to get started."
He looked at the table. Tubs of hummus
and tahini formed pyramids. Bags full of
chickpeas, lentils, various beans, bulgur,
and brown rice made stacks on the floor.
There were enormous barrels of olive oil
and apple cider vinegar to dispense
into bottles of different sizes. Jars
held za'atar and baharat spices.
Signs above the table read,
Embrace an Old Friend
and Try Something New,
directing people to larger or
smaller sizes of ingredients.
Based on what Gideon knew,
there were enough things here
to form the core of a Syrian pantry.
There was one thing missing for
Syrian-Vermont cuisine, though.
"No maple syrup?" he asked.
"It's in most of your new recipes,
and it really makes them stand out."
"The maple people set up a booth
down that way," Kardal said, pointing.
"I didn't want to step on them. We're
all trying to coordinate our offerings
to cover as much ground as possible
without duplicating each other's efforts."
"That makes sense," Gideon agreed.
"I'll watch for the maple booth."
It wasn't right next door, because
that was Fadil and Saba Hashim
from Rising Bread Bakery, who were
handing out bags of Syrian flatbreads
like khobez, taboon, and tannour.
Saba's older sisters Mahala Jassim
Anisa Nasser were helping. Mahala
fielded the savory pastries along with
her daughters Batoul and Clemira,
while Anisa and her daughter Dunia
took care of the sweet pastries.
"Do you have a moment?"
Gideon asked Fadil and Saba.
Fadil dusted off his hands and
said, "Of course, what do you need?"
"I had been thinking about asking you
for help with my breakfast spread,"
said Gideon. "Penina Trueblood
just offered to do breakfast and
maybe lunch here. You might
want to talk with her and see if
you'd like to work together."
Fadil looked over to where
Penina's head was just barely
visible above the boxes. "Yes,
I'll ask her about that," he said.
"Later, when things calm down."
"My 'later' is filling up with plans
to talk with people about more plans,"
Gideon said with a chuckle. "Good luck."
The next booth was a joint effort with
Berna Habib and her children running
the front and Berivan Kul in the back.
Berna raised chickens and was
giving out baskets of eggs. Berivan
made cheese and other dairy products.
They had big portable refrigerators
plugged into extension cords, and
they were packing sets of products
into the cheap styrofoam coolers that
fishermen used to carry live minnows.
Each refugee could get a dozen eggs
and a selection of Syrian cheeses
like jibneh mshallale and surke.
Gideon made sure to keep the table
between himself and the Syrian ladies,
since Muslims preferred to keep the sexes
at a safe distance outside of close family.
"How are you doing here?" he asked.
"It looks like you're giving away a lot."
"Zakat," Berna said cheerfully. "We
talked with the officials and they're
going to credit all of this toward
what we owe to Allah for charity.
It will simplify the bookkeeping!"
"That's good to hear," said Gideon.
"I hope you find new customers."
The Abenaki had sent Malina Cowass
with little bags of Three Sisters Soup mix
in various historic and modern flavors.
"Thank you for coming," said Gideon.
"We can sure use the extra help."
"Rutledge has been a good ally
to our people," Malina said. "Maybe
we can make some new friends today."
"That would be good," Gideon agreed.
"No matter how bad things get, it's easier
to get by when people stick together."
At last he came to the maple syrup booth,
where Acer Sawyer was setting out rows
and rows of jars, from small ones for
one person to big family-size jugs.
There were even bits of shortbread
to dip in several different sample syrups.
"Take a maple cookbook," Acer said,
pointing to a stack of printed pamphlets.
Each had a thumb drive attached with
a ball-chain through a hole in the corner,
presumably holding an electronic copy.
"I'll be sure to pass the word," Gideon said
as he took one. "Kardal is directing folks
here for the maple portion of his cookbook."
"And I'm sending people over to him for
za'atar and other Syrian stuff," said Acer.
"I love that man's cooking, and I want
to share it with all my new friends!"
The next table held not food but
herbs and spices, along with
products made from them.
Mentha Burbank had set it
up for Athelas Herbarium.
Her sister Myrtle was there
in back with jars of simples
to make blends on request.
The table already held boxes
of Mood Booster for anxiety
and depression, Heartsease for
sorrows, Stress Less for nerves,
Peaceful Evening for relaxation,
and Nightlight to bring sleep or
soothe traumatic nightmares.
"Here, take some," Mentha said,
offering him boxes of Stress Less
and Peaceful Evening. "You're sure
to need them after all of this fuss."
"You're not wrong," Gideon said
as he accepted them. "Thank you."
"Take some business cards too,"
Myrtle called. "Tell people that I can
mix blends if their previous herbalist
gave them a prescription recipe."
"I'm happy to pass the word,"
Gideon said, filing the cards.
Beyond the food booths were
people offering other necessities.
Two of them had modest clothing
in different styles and materials.
Hadira Diab made and sold
Muslim clothes, mostly for
women but some for children
or men, at Hadira's Hijab Shop.
She had put up racks of dresses,
long-sleeved blouses, skirts, and
various different kinds of scarves.
Most were solid dark colors, but
there were a few brighter ones,
and some scarves had patterns.
Héliane Couture had a store
called La mode paysanne in
Ville de Roses that sold what
she described as peasant clothes.
There were sturdy blouses, skirts,
and pants along with apron dresses
and warm thick leggings for underneath.
She favored earth tones of rich browns
and golden yellows, soft blues and
greens, black, gray, and white.
Normally when Gideon saw them
at the farmer's market, someone from
Emerald Mountain Glen was there with
tie-dyed T-shirts and broomstick skirts.
The hippies had their hands full with
their own batch of refugees today.
"Mr. Wheeler, Hadira and I have
been talking," said Héliane. "Do you
have a little bit of space here to set
up a community closet? We could
leave some garments that have
forgiving sizes like apron dresses,
wrap skirts, and head scarves."
"I'm sure I can find something,"
said Gideon. "I have other things
in the works too. Perhaps I'll just
set aside one of the function rooms
to handle refugee needs for a while,
so that folks know where to look."
"Thank you," said Héliane. "We
want to make sure that people have
good clothes to wear. If you don't
like showing lots of skin, it isn't easy
to shop in the mainstream stores."
"That's true, and it's kind of you
to pick up the slack," said Gideon.
A faint scent of incense snagged
his attention, and Gideon looked
around to see several tables
set up for the Peace Store.
Ahzan Laham stood behind
them, handing out materials for
meditation, self-help, and self-care.
In addition to the incense, there were
yoga mats, prayer beads, polished stones,
peace symbols, spiritual statuettes, bells,
wall hangings with inspirational quotes,
and books on metaphysical topics.
A large sign advertised that the store
was hosting group therapy sessions
and other refugee support circles.
"How are you doing?" Gideon asked.
"This isn't bringing up bad memories?"
"I am okay," said Ahzan. "It is good
to see the community come together
to help people like this. I left Hasra
with some friends, though, because
this is more than she could handle."
"I'm happy to hear that," said Gideon.
"Can I do anything to help you?"
Ahzan chuckled. "Actually, I
was going to ask if I could leave
a few things here in case anyone
needs them but misses the tables."
"Why don't you see about restocking
the quiet room?" said Gideon. "It has
been doubling as a Muslim prayer room,
so there isn't much for other religions or
secular needs stored in there now."
"Of course," said Ahzan. He grabbed
an empty box and started stuffing it
with an assortment of objects that
would suit a wide range of needs.
Another cluster of booths came
from the Viridian Business Park.
The Celadon Shopping Center
was buried under rows of people.
The apartment buildings, offices,
and business tower had signs
advertising their vacancies.
Fair Valley Interfaith Center and
the Rutledge Interfaith Group had
displays for all different religions
with the times for their services.
The Community Center posted
about their New In Town Group
plus wellness and counseling.
Gideon thought it was a great idea
to open a group for newcomers,
as that would help them to bond.
There were stacks of newspapers
including the Rutledge Gazette,
the Progressive Press, and
the Arabic Nasim Alsabah or
Morning Breeze on one table.
Dabeer and Almeda Agassi had
started the last one for Syrians,
most articles written in Arabic with
occasional bits in other languages
"Excuse me," Gideon said as he
made his way to the front. "I have
hotel subscriptions already, but I'll
need to update those once I know
my new numbers. For today, can
I get a bundle of each, and have
someone call me in a few days?"
A harried journalist handed him
the papers and took his card.
Quadruple Word Score had
set up a booth for people with
superpowers, in case anyone
needed help with theirs or
wanted to connect with locals.
She was mostly hidden behind
a small crowd of young people --
a boy with floppy pale blond hair,
a mixed-race girl, another girl with
crayon hair in a vivid shade of
melon, and a boy in glasses with
the intent look of a super-intellect.
There was also a ... Gideon had
to stop, look, and look again before
he realized it was actually a dog
with a golden unicorn horn and
a pink tail against a white coat.
Yeah, he'd just leave all of
that stuff to the expert for now.
Later on he could worry about
whether they might need anything
out of the ordinary in their rooms.
Gideon trusted that Quadscore
would tell him if she needed help,
without him wading over there.
The Maple Leaf QUILTBAG Club
had a maple leaf quilt block on
their banner instead of the usual
nine-patch heart quilt block.
Tarek al-Khair was there,
who had been imprisoned,
tortured, and almost killed
in Syria just for being gay.
A clot of sobbing people
huddled around him, several
of them wearing tops that read,
San Francisco Queer Pride.
Well, at least he knew enough
about suffering to commiserate,
so they weren't alone in their loss.
Gideon was solidly bisexual, having
had a male partner in the past and
a female one at present, and it hurt
to see a queer community so shattered.
Jocelyn Wright, a lesbian, had loaded
her end of the table with an assortment
of wooden games and kits from her shop.
The family game kit included things such as
a universal gameboard, wooden game pieces
and dice, a deck of cards, several lengths
of string, four small spiral notebooks with
pencils, and a pamphlet of game rules.
She saw him looking at those and said,
"I figured that families who have lost
their game collections might like
to start replacing some of that."
"I'm sure they would," said Gideon.
"Could I possibly get some silent and
solo games for the quiet room, maybe
a checkerboard or something for the lobby?"
"Sure," said Jocelyn. "Take a family kit
for the lobby." She heaved a box onto
the table. "These are solitaire games.
Pick a couple for the quiet room."
Gideon picked a round one and
a square one, then the family kit.
"Thanks, this will help," he said.
"I'm also pointing folks toward
Silver Square, now that they've
got a bunch of stuff filling in
the ground floor," said Jocelyn.
"One of those is a game room
with about a zillion board games."
"That sounds like a good way
to build community," said Gideon.
"Yeah, and I'm hoping we can do
the Rutledge Woodworking Festival
and the Green Mountain Game Day
again this year," said Jocelyn. "Is
there any chance that you could
help out with space for either?"
"I don't really know how busy
the function rooms will stay,
for how long," said Gideon.
"I'll find you something, though.
Both of those are good events.
Hmm, I could bump some of
the refugee stuff to the offices."
"Thank you so much," said Jocelyn.
"People need something hopeful."
Gideon looked at the next booth,
where Mahir Suleiman was giving out
furniture he'd repaired with clear acrylic.
A pregnant lady was sitting on a chair
of half wood and half acrylic, crying.
"Yes," said Gideon. "We need hope."
The booth for the Mala Jin was
just as crowded with refugees.
That was a Kurdish thing that
Liyan had started, explaining
it was a House of Women for
any female who needed help.
The sign above it read,
Mala Jin: a Refuge for
Women Alone, as well
as another that read,
Parent Child Center:
for Families in Need.
Currently Liyan was
mobbed by cluster
of Kurdish women,
most of them wearing
a jumble of field clothes.
One of them was clearly
transgender, because she
looked like a man in a dress,
complete with a scruff of beard.
"Don't need ID here," said Liyan.
She had been learning English,
but wasn't great at it yet. "We
don't use. Then harder for men
to find women at Mala Jin."
One of the women smiled and
nodded, then stepped aside.
"I'm Dilva," said the transwoman.
"Is the Mala Jin for all women, or
only those who look like women?"
"All women," said Liyan. "You
need bed? Food? Other help?"
"I need a place to stay, and
I hope to change my body
someday," said Dilva.
Liyan made a note, then
handed her a card. "You
come to Mala Jin," she said.
"Thank you," Dilva said,
clutching it like a lifeline.
"Liyan, I wanted to mention
something to you," said Gideon.
"If the Mala Jin gets crowded and
your ladies need a place to wash,
send them here. We have dotties
and locker rooms they can use."
"Yes," said Liyan. "We need
more ... everything. Thanks."
Gideon moved on to check
with the next booth in the row.
The Parent Child Center had
brought My Diet food boxes
tailored for nursing mothers,
infants, and older children.
There were also boxes of
supplies like breast pumps,
bottles, nursing bras, diapers
and wipes, teethers, toys, and
baby clothes for different ages.
Susan Moylan was handing out
packages and flyers to everyone
who came over to her booth.
"Do you have a catalog of things
you offer?" Gideon asked her. "I
could use that at the front desk."
"Yes, here," Susan said as she
handed him a pamphlet. "These
are standard goods and services."
She added a flyer. "And these are
for refugees from the Big One."
"Thank you," said Gideon.
"This should help a lot."
That was close to the end
of the row of tables, and
the rest were so mobbed
that he couldn't reach them.
Gideon looped back through
the hallways to the lobby.
"How are things going
here?" he asked Rakin.
"All right," Rakin said.
"The hotel supplies are
holding out. We still have
vacancies -- I'm marking
claims in the system as
guests choose. Booths
here are still staffed."
"You're doing well,"
Gideon assured him.
Suddenly a fresh gush
of people poured through
the doors of the hotel.
"What the heck is this?"
Gideon said, frowning.
At the front of the crowd,
a large man and a teen girl
half-carried, half-dragged
someone between them.
"I'm Mack Kenworth, and this
is our teleporter, Big Truck --
Ben Williamson," said the man.
"He got us here, and then crashed."
"Does he need any first aid?"
Gideon said. "We've got
a booth and some nurses --"
"No, I think he just needs
food and rest," said Mack.
"Okay, then set him down
on the couch so you can
take a break," said Gideon.
The people already there
scrambled out of their way
as the three people sat down.
"We're earthquake refugees
and heard this was a place
to stay," the girl added.
"I'm Josie Williamson."
Gideon looked at her
and Big Truck, who was
close to the same age and
clinging. "We'll find a place
for you and your brother."
"He's my husband, not
my brother," Josie said.
"Oh, sorry," said Gideon,
and then to his surprise,
her backpack gurgled. It
had a baby inside it. "How
many kids do you have?"
"One and a half," Josie said,
free hand touching her belly,
although it still seemed flat.
"Congratulations," said Gideon.
"Do you want two bedrooms or
three? The units on this floor
have one or two, so if that'll do,
you won't have to go as far."
"We'll take it," said Josie.
"I'm not due for months,
and Posy can share."
The teleporter revived
enough to ask, "Can I get
some calories, please?"
"Of course," Gideon said,
went to grab a food bar from
the stash behind the counter.
He had a couple of baskets, since
he liked Millennium Energy Bars for
their multiple flavors, but Quadscore had
suggested the EveryOne 3600 Calorie
Survival Food Bars in case someone with
a high-burn metabolism needed to refuel.
"Here, you can start with this," Gideon said,
handing Big Truck an EveryOne bar.
Big Truck wolfed down the food
in just a few bites. "Thanks."
It was a good thing Gideon
had listened to Quadscore.
"Do you like hummus?"
Gideon asked Big Truck.
"Olives, olive oil, dates,
pita bread or pita chips?"
"Yeah," Big Truck said.
"You just named some of
my favorite road munchies."
Gideon snagged Bassam Ismail,
who was serving as a gopher.
"Gather a big tub of hummus,
gallon jugs of olives and olive oil,
a date brick, and a bag of flatbread.
Bring everything to Unit A in Tower A."
Then he turned to the refugees. "I've
been letting people pick rooms from
what's available, but that's closest."
"Oh, I vote for closest," said Josie,
and Big Truck said, "Yeah, I can
barely budge, don't wanna go far."
"Then let's get you somewhere
private," Gideon said, beckoning.
Josie and Mack managed to get
Big Truck on his feet. "Where
are we headed?" she asked.
"This way," Gideon said. He
led them to the relevant unit
and helped them to settle
Big Truck on the couch.
"Thank you," said Mack.
"I can sit with him while
you get things sorted."
"Josie, let me show you
the nursery," Gideon said,
leading her to the tiny room.
"It has its own bathroom, along
with a crib and folding playpen.
Up here are baskets with a few toys
for different ages. Would Posy like
toys for 7-12 months or 1 year olds?"
"I don't know, she just had a birthday
last month," said Josie. "Maybe pick
something of out each basket?"
"Good idea," said Gideon. "Here's
a rainbow ball and a dolly from
the younger set, and this squirrel
is a pull toy from the older set."
"I think those should work,
thanks," Josie said with relief.
"Bah!" Posy squealed, and
Josie passed her the ball.
"She likes bath toys too, she's
a real swimmer," said Josie.
"I'll have to see if I can find
some of those ... later ..."
"Bath toys are in a bucket
in the bathroom," said Gideon.
"Oh, thank goodness," said Josie.
"Without those, she thinks we're
at the pool and tries to swim, and
everything's already so muddled."
"Could you tell me a little about
what happened?" Gideon asked.
"It looked like a lot of people ..."
Josie sighed. "Ben and I
lost almost everything when
our apartment building collapsed
during the earthquake," she said.
"That's rough," said Gideon.
"That was a few days ago?"
"Yeah, Ben -- Big Truck --
he crammed all the survivors
we could find into his truck,"
Josie said. "Then he teleported
everything to an emergency station
in Carson City, Nevada that he knew."
"That's a good start," said Gideon.
"Did they fill up or something?"
"They were overflowing, and we
had a way out," said Josie. "So
we took it. Big Truck teleported
a hundred people in the trailer,
including his parents and some of
his coworkers from Haul Away Joe's,
plus twelve more pregnant women in
the sleeper of his semitruck to here."
"One moment please," Gideon said,
making a note to find those women.
"It sounds like you've had a hard time,
and you both look pretty young --"
"We're not careless teens," Josie said.
"I got pregnant after a water rescue left
me with nasty scrapes, then the antibiotics
messed up my birth control. Both Ben
and I have -- had -- good jobs."
"Sorry," said Gideon "I'm
used to working with refugees
including teen parents, so I know
that they can be responsible."
"That's better than some folks
I've known," Josie admitted.
"What kind of work did you
do before?" Gideon asked her.
"Ben started out as a truck driver
before he souped up," said Josie.
"They gave him a truck to stay on."
"Well, that's good," said Gideon.
"I'm sure people will need lots of
supplies moved around now."
"Yeah, but I'm a lifeguard, and
I don't know how much call there
is for recreation here," said Josie.
"Would you like a job?" Gideon said.
"Family Business Rest has a pool, but
I've never managed to keep a lifeguard
more than briefly. Teens do it, but then
they go to college. I just open the pool
on weekends for 'swim at your own risk,'
but I'd really rather have a lifeguard
and keep it open more of the time."
"I'll take the job," said Josie. "Wait,
I need to figure out childcare for Posy.
Ben's parents are here but I only had
my grandmother and she didn't make it."
"I'm so sorry to hear that," said Gideon.
"Maybe I can help with childcare and
working through refugee needs."
"How?" said Josie. "We have
a place to stay, but there's just
so much else to worry about."
"If you want to leave your daughter
somewhere safe so you can go around
to the booths you need, then you could
place her in the children's play area,"
said Gideon. "That would also give
you a chance to meet some of
the other young mothers here --
they've set up a daycare today."
"Others?" Josie said, then made
a complicated face. "I don't often
have much in common with most
of the other teen moms I've met.
And most of the dads ... aren't."
"I think Fariha is a good mom,"
said Gideon. "She's 19 now, and
her son Karif is almost 2. She
also has two older kids from
her husband's first wife. You
can meet Fariha at the daycare."
"I guess it wouldn't hurt to take
a look," said Josie. "There's just
so much that I need to do now."
"I can show you where it is,"
said Gideon. "You might also
like my concierge, Rakin. He's
15, his wife Nisa is 17, and
their daughter Lamis is 3."
"That's ... wow," said Josie.
"How is he working for you?
I mean, is that even legal?"
"Well, we had to fight for it,"
said Gideon. "Family Services
was bothering them, trying to treat
all three as children. Rakin and
Nisa had been living as adults for
a while already, so that wouldn't fly.
I offered him a job, and that helped
both of them get early majority."
"Good for you," said Josie.
"Lots of people tend to treat
teen parents as trash, and I
really get tired of that crud."
"You've got support here if you
want it," said Gideon. "Shall we
let your family know where you'll be?"
"Yeah, let's go," said Josie. "Mack
will stay with Big Truck for a while.
Maybe he'll room with us -- I didn't
know this had an extra nursery
beyond the two bedrooms."
"The blueprints call that
a maid's room," said Gideon.
"It seemed like a bit much,
since I'm still short of staff,
so I call it a nursery instead."
Josie chuckled, then went
back to the living room
where Big Truck and
Mack sat on the couch.
"I'm going to put Posy in
childcare just long enough
for me to loop the booths and
see what stuff I can get there,"
Josie said, kissing Big Truck.
"Sounds good," he said,
and kissed her back.
A knock on the door
announced Bassam,
who held a cooler piled
with food. "Hummus and
stuff on top, cheese and
eggs down where it's cool."
"Thank you," Josie said
as she took the cooler.
"Give me that," said Mack.
"I'll set up a hummus tray,
then put the cold food away
while you hit the booths. Once
you're done, I'll take my turn."
As soon as the food hit
the coffee table, Big Truck
started devouring the spread.
"Hey, there's a little nursery
by the kitchen, so you can
have the second bedroom,"
Josie said to Mack. "I know
you and Big Truck are close."
"Thank you," said Mack. "I'll see
what's up. I may take that room."
They hugged, and then Josie
followed Gideon into the hallway.
"The Children's Playroom is just
a few doors down from here, beside
the stairs," he said. "We needed
somewhere indoors for them."
High laughter spilled out, even
before he opened the door.
Inside, Fariha sat in a circle
of playful children who had
taken over the living room.
"Welcome," she said. "I'm
Fariha and this is my son Karif.
I watch children in daycare.
Bedroom is for napping."
"My name is Nisa Hamidi.
My daughter is Lamis,"
said another girl. "I do
hospitality and childcare.
Welcome to Rutledge."
"I'm Josie, and this
is my daughter Posy,"
she said. "I don't think
she'll be ready for a nap
anytime soon, and I need
to visit the refugee booths."
"Here is guestbook, you
sign," Fariha said, pointing
to a tablet computer. "Room
open late, until nine tonight."
"I don't need nearly that long,"
Josie said as she signed in.
"Well, I hope that I don't."
"Everything here wraps up
at nine, so that people can
try to sleep," said Gideon.
"You can do more tomorrow."
"We have family clubs too, for
young parents, like Halal Mamas,"
said Nisa. "You could come to
a meeting and make friends?"
"I'm not Muslim," Josie said.
"Isn't halal just for Muslims?"
"Club is for anyone with babies --
trying, pregnant, or nursing -- who
wants food with zero alcohol,"
Fariha explained. "So, you do
breast or bottle for Posy?"
"Mostly breast," said Josie.
"Yeah, no alcohol is good."
"We share food and recipes,"
said Nisa. "You could join us."
"I think I'd like that," said Josie.
"Back home, some people were
pretty mean to us, so we didn't
have a lot of friends except
for some of Ben's coworkers."
Gideon was willing to bet that
those coworkers had gotten
an offer to ride out with him.
Josie deposited Posy on
a farm-themed play mat,
which instantly fascinated
her so they could slip out.
"Best start at the beginning,
I think," said Gideon. "I put
the most crucial booths in
the lobby, so if you begin
with those, then you'll have
a good foundation even if
something pulls you away."
"Yeah, Mack knows to call me
if Ben needs me," said Josie.
Gideon left her at the first booth,
which offered refugee ID cards.
Then he went to check on Rakin,
and wound up leaning against
the front counter for support.
"Are you all right, sir?"
Rakin asked, hovering
at his elbow, worried.
"I will be," Gideon said.
"We have 112 new people
here, more if they didn't count
themselves in that number."
"We still have rooms left,"
said Rakin. "Single people
might have to share, though."
"That's a good idea," said Gideon.
He grabbed a whiteboard and
stand, then wrote at the top,
Singles Seeking Roommates:
Male -- Female -- Other.
He propped it in front of
the counter so people
could sort themselves
before requesting rooms.
Then Gideon found himself
leaning on the counter again.
"You look like you're running
short on fuel," Rakin observed.
"Fuel, energy, patience, daylight,"
Gideon said. "I have too much to do
and not nearly enough to do it with."
"Here," said Rakin. "Someone brought
Maple Morning Glory Breakfast Muffins.
Eat something and take care of yourself."
Gideon bit into a muffin and groaned
in pleasure. "This really hits the spot."
"I saw a quote, watching the news
about the earthquake," said Rakin.
"Whether it is a tsunami, a hurricane,
or an earthquake -- when we see
these great fatal and natural acts,
people of every ethnic persuasion
come together and they just want
to help." He tapped the plate.
Gideon looked around at
the crowded lobby full of
all different people, some
of them refugees needing
help, others former refugees
now able to offer their help.
"Yes," he said, draping an arm
around Rakin's shoulders to give
him a little squeeze. "Good people
make the hard times bearable."
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character and content notes will appear separately.
see_also_friend, rix_scaedu, and wyld_dandelyon. It also fills the "Activism" square in my 6-1-24 card for the Pride Fest Bingo. This poem has been sponsored by fuzzyred. It belongs to the Rutledge thread of the Polychrome Heroics series."People of Every Ethnic Persuasion"
[Thursday, June 2, 2016]
Gideon Wheeler walked through
Family Business Rest, supervising
the mad scramble of aid workers
and refugees from the earthquake.
Rutledge had decided to take in
at least a couple hundred people,
brought in by bus, train, or teleport.
More had shown up outside of
the official transit, and there were
others flooding into nearby places
like Emerald Mountain Glen, where
two hippie teleporters had landed
with busloads of refugees in need.
Not all of those would be staying
here at the hotel, but it was still
getting really crowded really fast.
There was so much stuff going on that
Gideon had needed to print out maps of
which stations offered what services so
folks could stamp the page to keep track
of the ones they had already visited and tell
what they still needed to hunt down and do.
The lobby held the most critical booths where
people could get a special "refugee ID card"
in case they'd lost everything in the Big One,
a list of government aid available to them,
references to medical resources, and so on.
The Children's Playroom had been turned into
a daycare for anyone who needed a safe place
to park their kids while they handled adult details,
run by some young parents, mostly Syrian ones.
Kraken had kindly sent over a thrash coach for
the Gym to handle people who best dealt with
stress by hitting something meant to be hit.
Tower A was bustling with more services for
the unsettled people streaming into the hotel.
The theater in Function Room 1 was looping
a ten-minute "Welcome to Rutledge" film made
hastily by students at the College of St. Joseph
in a rotation of English, French, and Arabic tracks.
Function Rooms 2-4 had been opened up into
their megaspace format and crammed with
all the resources Rutledge could provide.
Most of the same folks were there who had
welcomed the Syrian refugees two years ago,
but there were some new offerings from locals
and now the Syrians had their own organizations
enthusiastically setting up tables to pay it forward.
Over in Tower B, the Game Room had a booth
handing out burner phones already loaded
with stacking-sorting games like Tetris and
self-help software for coping with trauma.
The Yoga Room was doing meditation and
other relaxing activities led by volunteers.
Once again, Gideon was trying to offer
families with young children first choice
among units on the first floor, although
the larger units were all upstairs.
There were so many people who
needed new homes, or at least
the temporary ones he had.
He saw Noemie moving through
the crowd, offering to translate
things for people who wanted help.
She spoke Arabic, English, Esperanto,
French, German, Hebrew, Italian, and
Spanish. Rutledge had invited speakers
of Arabic and French in particular, and
some of them needed the support.
Gideon was so glad that they
had gotten together. He'd been
really lonely before meeting her.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
"You look about as busy as I feel."
"Busy, but effective," said Noemie.
"Most of the French speakers also
know English, but not very many of
the Arabic speakers do. We got
some Spanish-only speakers too."
"Yeah, the West Coast has a lot
of those," said Gideon. "I know that
you'll take good care of them, though."
Then someone waved urgently for
Noemie, and someone else was
trying to get his attention too.
"Hey, Gideon, over here!"
called Dell Evergreen. She
had a table under a banner
for the Green Mountaineers,
an outdoor adventure club for
veterans and other disabled folks.
"What do you need?" he asked.
"I'm making the rounds to do
whatever I can for people."
"If you see any people with
disabilities, especially new ones,
send them our way," said Dell.
"The hospital is mobbed and
couldn't spare anyone to set up
an accessibility station here."
"I can do that," said Gideon.
He used his smartphone to make
a note of the lack on the website
set up for refugees. "Do you
have any handouts for them?"
Dell gave him a handful of
business cards, which he
stored in the large organizer
that he had gotten for today.
Right next to that was a table
for the Aitken Teen Art Troupe
with Siobhan McDowell giving out
basic art supplies like pencils, paper,
and folding watercolor paint sets.
A large sign with a boy's picture read,
Are you overloaded? That's okay!
Henry Flanders dislikes crowds too.
He is in Oak Pocket doing art.
Grab a map and go join him.
Below that was a stack of maps
showing the way to Oak Pocket,
a family-owned woodlot that
was open to the public.
"Could you use more
art supplies for this?"
Gideon asked Siobhan.
"Always," she said. "What
kind of things do you have?"
"A storage room of office supplies,"
said Gideon. "I could bring you
a box of paper, pencils, and pens."
"Yes, please!" Siobhan said eagerly.
"And paperclips? Those things work
surprisingly well for wire sculpture."
"Coming right up," said Gideon.
He went to the storage room and
then piled a cart with a case of paper,
a stack of blank notepads, boxes of
pens and pencils in different colors,
and a case each of paper clips
in larger and smaller sizes.
"Here you go," he told Siobhan.
"I hope that the supplies help."
Culbart Lidmann manned a table
for the Triton Teen Center, which
was almost hidden from view
behind a wall of young people.
Gideon hoped that Culbart was
managing to find the runaways
among the conventional refugees.
The news had already reported that
people were going missing, especially
the young and vulnerable, and even at
the best of times Gideon didn't really
know how to handle runaway teens.
Best leave that sort of challenge to
the experts. He wouldn't quibble
just because former supervillains
worked at the Triton Teen Center.
One whole cluster of tables stood
behind a banner that proclaimed,
Rutledge Refugee Job Fair --
Do you need to find work?
We need to find workers!
Rutledge had long had
a shortage of people to fill
jobs, which is why Gideon had
gotten by with little more than
a skeleton crew at the hotel.
The Syrians had helped with
that, as they had around town.
Gideon's own concierge was
one of them -- Rakin Hamidi had
only been thirteen when Gideon
hired him to keep Family Services
from hassling his wife and daughter --
and was the best second hand that
Gideon had ever gotten to work with.
Another booth had a sign saying,
Do you want to start a new career?
Check out our lists of top fields that
desperately need more people!
Training for these is all free and
comes with job search assistance.
The Syrians had taken advantage
of such opportunities when they'd
arrived, and it helped them create
new businesses and thus more jobs.
Now Labib Abdel and Oscar Patton
staffed a big booth that advertised
the Rutledge Business Incubator
with its production and office spaces.
"Hi, Gideon," said Oscar. "Can we ask
about these function rooms some time?"
"They're available to rent, but not
this week," said Gideon. "We'll
need all the space we can get
for refugee stuff. You remember
what a madhouse it was last time."
"Yeah, but you handled it better
than I did," Oscar muttered.
Labib patted his shoulder.
"It was enough," he said.
"We will learn from that time
and make this time better."
"We thought that it would be
more convenient for new folks
to attend presentations here,
rather than making them come
to the incubator," said Oscar.
"Here, call me next week,"
said Gideon. "If you're doing
things for the refugees, I can
probably make space for you."
Another large cluster of booths
held various selections of food
that people were giving away.
Penina Trueblood was there
from Eat Wisely Rutledge with
a massive stack of My Diet boxes.
One whole wall of them was halal,
along with piles of vegan, organic,
hypoallergenic, and a few more for
assorted types of special needs.
The Syrians had eaten mostly from
My Diet boxes until the stores could
set up sections full of halal foods.
"Oh, Gideon, I was hoping to see
you today," said Penina. "We had
an idea over at Eat Wisely. Would
you like us to set up a breakfast bar
and maybe lunch here? It can't be
cheap feeding all these extra people,
and government money takes time."
"Yes, please!" said Gideon. "I was
planning to cover it with cheap things
like oatmeal and pastries, but if you
can do better, by all means pitch in."
He hadn't been able to put out
the usual spread today, because
there simply no room left for it.
Penina gave him a business card.
"Call me when things calm down
enough to discuss food options."
"Thank you so much," Gideon said.
"I need all the help that I can get."
He had volunteered to house
the earthquake refugees, but he
remembered how hectic it had been
with the Syrian refugees, for weeks.
Kardal, who ran a Syrian food truck,
was there along with a zakat official
at a smaller table full of vouchers.
"I thought zakat was for Muslims?"
Gideon said. "Can it go to anyone?"
"It's primarily for Muslims and our allies,
but there are certain categories to follow,"
said Kardal. "These include the needy
and the destitute, the traveler in distress,
and those whose hearts are to be reconciled.
Helping people is a good way to make friends."
Glancing at the small table, Gideon saw that
the zakat official had booklets of vouchers
marked Earthquake Refugees as well as
the usual Widows and Orphans, Qur'an,
Wudumate, and other familiar options.
"That's certainly true," Gideon agreed. "I'm
sure everyone will be grateful, especially
our new Muslims, and we've also got
new hippies spilling over from the ones
who wound up at Emerald Mountain glen."
Kardal grinned at him. "We're trading
recipes," he said. "I made a pamphlet."
Gideon picked one up and looked at it.
"Za'atar Maple Everything: An Introduction
to Syrian-Vermont Food," he read. "Well,
that sounds like a great way to get started."
He looked at the table. Tubs of hummus
and tahini formed pyramids. Bags full of
chickpeas, lentils, various beans, bulgur,
and brown rice made stacks on the floor.
There were enormous barrels of olive oil
and apple cider vinegar to dispense
into bottles of different sizes. Jars
held za'atar and baharat spices.
Signs above the table read,
Embrace an Old Friend
and Try Something New,
directing people to larger or
smaller sizes of ingredients.
Based on what Gideon knew,
there were enough things here
to form the core of a Syrian pantry.
There was one thing missing for
Syrian-Vermont cuisine, though.
"No maple syrup?" he asked.
"It's in most of your new recipes,
and it really makes them stand out."
"The maple people set up a booth
down that way," Kardal said, pointing.
"I didn't want to step on them. We're
all trying to coordinate our offerings
to cover as much ground as possible
without duplicating each other's efforts."
"That makes sense," Gideon agreed.
"I'll watch for the maple booth."
It wasn't right next door, because
that was Fadil and Saba Hashim
from Rising Bread Bakery, who were
handing out bags of Syrian flatbreads
like khobez, taboon, and tannour.
Saba's older sisters Mahala Jassim
Anisa Nasser were helping. Mahala
fielded the savory pastries along with
her daughters Batoul and Clemira,
while Anisa and her daughter Dunia
took care of the sweet pastries.
"Do you have a moment?"
Gideon asked Fadil and Saba.
Fadil dusted off his hands and
said, "Of course, what do you need?"
"I had been thinking about asking you
for help with my breakfast spread,"
said Gideon. "Penina Trueblood
just offered to do breakfast and
maybe lunch here. You might
want to talk with her and see if
you'd like to work together."
Fadil looked over to where
Penina's head was just barely
visible above the boxes. "Yes,
I'll ask her about that," he said.
"Later, when things calm down."
"My 'later' is filling up with plans
to talk with people about more plans,"
Gideon said with a chuckle. "Good luck."
The next booth was a joint effort with
Berna Habib and her children running
the front and Berivan Kul in the back.
Berna raised chickens and was
giving out baskets of eggs. Berivan
made cheese and other dairy products.
They had big portable refrigerators
plugged into extension cords, and
they were packing sets of products
into the cheap styrofoam coolers that
fishermen used to carry live minnows.
Each refugee could get a dozen eggs
and a selection of Syrian cheeses
like jibneh mshallale and surke.
Gideon made sure to keep the table
between himself and the Syrian ladies,
since Muslims preferred to keep the sexes
at a safe distance outside of close family.
"How are you doing here?" he asked.
"It looks like you're giving away a lot."
"Zakat," Berna said cheerfully. "We
talked with the officials and they're
going to credit all of this toward
what we owe to Allah for charity.
It will simplify the bookkeeping!"
"That's good to hear," said Gideon.
"I hope you find new customers."
The Abenaki had sent Malina Cowass
with little bags of Three Sisters Soup mix
in various historic and modern flavors.
"Thank you for coming," said Gideon.
"We can sure use the extra help."
"Rutledge has been a good ally
to our people," Malina said. "Maybe
we can make some new friends today."
"That would be good," Gideon agreed.
"No matter how bad things get, it's easier
to get by when people stick together."
At last he came to the maple syrup booth,
where Acer Sawyer was setting out rows
and rows of jars, from small ones for
one person to big family-size jugs.
There were even bits of shortbread
to dip in several different sample syrups.
"Take a maple cookbook," Acer said,
pointing to a stack of printed pamphlets.
Each had a thumb drive attached with
a ball-chain through a hole in the corner,
presumably holding an electronic copy.
"I'll be sure to pass the word," Gideon said
as he took one. "Kardal is directing folks
here for the maple portion of his cookbook."
"And I'm sending people over to him for
za'atar and other Syrian stuff," said Acer.
"I love that man's cooking, and I want
to share it with all my new friends!"
The next table held not food but
herbs and spices, along with
products made from them.
Mentha Burbank had set it
up for Athelas Herbarium.
Her sister Myrtle was there
in back with jars of simples
to make blends on request.
The table already held boxes
of Mood Booster for anxiety
and depression, Heartsease for
sorrows, Stress Less for nerves,
Peaceful Evening for relaxation,
and Nightlight to bring sleep or
soothe traumatic nightmares.
"Here, take some," Mentha said,
offering him boxes of Stress Less
and Peaceful Evening. "You're sure
to need them after all of this fuss."
"You're not wrong," Gideon said
as he accepted them. "Thank you."
"Take some business cards too,"
Myrtle called. "Tell people that I can
mix blends if their previous herbalist
gave them a prescription recipe."
"I'm happy to pass the word,"
Gideon said, filing the cards.
Beyond the food booths were
people offering other necessities.
Two of them had modest clothing
in different styles and materials.
Hadira Diab made and sold
Muslim clothes, mostly for
women but some for children
or men, at Hadira's Hijab Shop.
She had put up racks of dresses,
long-sleeved blouses, skirts, and
various different kinds of scarves.
Most were solid dark colors, but
there were a few brighter ones,
and some scarves had patterns.
Héliane Couture had a store
called La mode paysanne in
Ville de Roses that sold what
she described as peasant clothes.
There were sturdy blouses, skirts,
and pants along with apron dresses
and warm thick leggings for underneath.
She favored earth tones of rich browns
and golden yellows, soft blues and
greens, black, gray, and white.
Normally when Gideon saw them
at the farmer's market, someone from
Emerald Mountain Glen was there with
tie-dyed T-shirts and broomstick skirts.
The hippies had their hands full with
their own batch of refugees today.
"Mr. Wheeler, Hadira and I have
been talking," said Héliane. "Do you
have a little bit of space here to set
up a community closet? We could
leave some garments that have
forgiving sizes like apron dresses,
wrap skirts, and head scarves."
"I'm sure I can find something,"
said Gideon. "I have other things
in the works too. Perhaps I'll just
set aside one of the function rooms
to handle refugee needs for a while,
so that folks know where to look."
"Thank you," said Héliane. "We
want to make sure that people have
good clothes to wear. If you don't
like showing lots of skin, it isn't easy
to shop in the mainstream stores."
"That's true, and it's kind of you
to pick up the slack," said Gideon.
A faint scent of incense snagged
his attention, and Gideon looked
around to see several tables
set up for the Peace Store.
Ahzan Laham stood behind
them, handing out materials for
meditation, self-help, and self-care.
In addition to the incense, there were
yoga mats, prayer beads, polished stones,
peace symbols, spiritual statuettes, bells,
wall hangings with inspirational quotes,
and books on metaphysical topics.
A large sign advertised that the store
was hosting group therapy sessions
and other refugee support circles.
"How are you doing?" Gideon asked.
"This isn't bringing up bad memories?"
"I am okay," said Ahzan. "It is good
to see the community come together
to help people like this. I left Hasra
with some friends, though, because
this is more than she could handle."
"I'm happy to hear that," said Gideon.
"Can I do anything to help you?"
Ahzan chuckled. "Actually, I
was going to ask if I could leave
a few things here in case anyone
needs them but misses the tables."
"Why don't you see about restocking
the quiet room?" said Gideon. "It has
been doubling as a Muslim prayer room,
so there isn't much for other religions or
secular needs stored in there now."
"Of course," said Ahzan. He grabbed
an empty box and started stuffing it
with an assortment of objects that
would suit a wide range of needs.
Another cluster of booths came
from the Viridian Business Park.
The Celadon Shopping Center
was buried under rows of people.
The apartment buildings, offices,
and business tower had signs
advertising their vacancies.
Fair Valley Interfaith Center and
the Rutledge Interfaith Group had
displays for all different religions
with the times for their services.
The Community Center posted
about their New In Town Group
plus wellness and counseling.
Gideon thought it was a great idea
to open a group for newcomers,
as that would help them to bond.
There were stacks of newspapers
including the Rutledge Gazette,
the Progressive Press, and
the Arabic Nasim Alsabah or
Morning Breeze on one table.
Dabeer and Almeda Agassi had
started the last one for Syrians,
most articles written in Arabic with
occasional bits in other languages
"Excuse me," Gideon said as he
made his way to the front. "I have
hotel subscriptions already, but I'll
need to update those once I know
my new numbers. For today, can
I get a bundle of each, and have
someone call me in a few days?"
A harried journalist handed him
the papers and took his card.
Quadruple Word Score had
set up a booth for people with
superpowers, in case anyone
needed help with theirs or
wanted to connect with locals.
She was mostly hidden behind
a small crowd of young people --
a boy with floppy pale blond hair,
a mixed-race girl, another girl with
crayon hair in a vivid shade of
melon, and a boy in glasses with
the intent look of a super-intellect.
There was also a ... Gideon had
to stop, look, and look again before
he realized it was actually a dog
with a golden unicorn horn and
a pink tail against a white coat.
Yeah, he'd just leave all of
that stuff to the expert for now.
Later on he could worry about
whether they might need anything
out of the ordinary in their rooms.
Gideon trusted that Quadscore
would tell him if she needed help,
without him wading over there.
The Maple Leaf QUILTBAG Club
had a maple leaf quilt block on
their banner instead of the usual
nine-patch heart quilt block.
Tarek al-Khair was there,
who had been imprisoned,
tortured, and almost killed
in Syria just for being gay.
A clot of sobbing people
huddled around him, several
of them wearing tops that read,
San Francisco Queer Pride.
Well, at least he knew enough
about suffering to commiserate,
so they weren't alone in their loss.
Gideon was solidly bisexual, having
had a male partner in the past and
a female one at present, and it hurt
to see a queer community so shattered.
Jocelyn Wright, a lesbian, had loaded
her end of the table with an assortment
of wooden games and kits from her shop.
The family game kit included things such as
a universal gameboard, wooden game pieces
and dice, a deck of cards, several lengths
of string, four small spiral notebooks with
pencils, and a pamphlet of game rules.
She saw him looking at those and said,
"I figured that families who have lost
their game collections might like
to start replacing some of that."
"I'm sure they would," said Gideon.
"Could I possibly get some silent and
solo games for the quiet room, maybe
a checkerboard or something for the lobby?"
"Sure," said Jocelyn. "Take a family kit
for the lobby." She heaved a box onto
the table. "These are solitaire games.
Pick a couple for the quiet room."
Gideon picked a round one and
a square one, then the family kit.
"Thanks, this will help," he said.
"I'm also pointing folks toward
Silver Square, now that they've
got a bunch of stuff filling in
the ground floor," said Jocelyn.
"One of those is a game room
with about a zillion board games."
"That sounds like a good way
to build community," said Gideon.
"Yeah, and I'm hoping we can do
the Rutledge Woodworking Festival
and the Green Mountain Game Day
again this year," said Jocelyn. "Is
there any chance that you could
help out with space for either?"
"I don't really know how busy
the function rooms will stay,
for how long," said Gideon.
"I'll find you something, though.
Both of those are good events.
Hmm, I could bump some of
the refugee stuff to the offices."
"Thank you so much," said Jocelyn.
"People need something hopeful."
Gideon looked at the next booth,
where Mahir Suleiman was giving out
furniture he'd repaired with clear acrylic.
A pregnant lady was sitting on a chair
of half wood and half acrylic, crying.
"Yes," said Gideon. "We need hope."
The booth for the Mala Jin was
just as crowded with refugees.
That was a Kurdish thing that
Liyan had started, explaining
it was a House of Women for
any female who needed help.
The sign above it read,
Mala Jin: a Refuge for
Women Alone, as well
as another that read,
Parent Child Center:
for Families in Need.
Currently Liyan was
mobbed by cluster
of Kurdish women,
most of them wearing
a jumble of field clothes.
One of them was clearly
transgender, because she
looked like a man in a dress,
complete with a scruff of beard.
"Don't need ID here," said Liyan.
She had been learning English,
but wasn't great at it yet. "We
don't use. Then harder for men
to find women at Mala Jin."
One of the women smiled and
nodded, then stepped aside.
"I'm Dilva," said the transwoman.
"Is the Mala Jin for all women, or
only those who look like women?"
"All women," said Liyan. "You
need bed? Food? Other help?"
"I need a place to stay, and
I hope to change my body
someday," said Dilva.
Liyan made a note, then
handed her a card. "You
come to Mala Jin," she said.
"Thank you," Dilva said,
clutching it like a lifeline.
"Liyan, I wanted to mention
something to you," said Gideon.
"If the Mala Jin gets crowded and
your ladies need a place to wash,
send them here. We have dotties
and locker rooms they can use."
"Yes," said Liyan. "We need
more ... everything. Thanks."
Gideon moved on to check
with the next booth in the row.
The Parent Child Center had
brought My Diet food boxes
tailored for nursing mothers,
infants, and older children.
There were also boxes of
supplies like breast pumps,
bottles, nursing bras, diapers
and wipes, teethers, toys, and
baby clothes for different ages.
Susan Moylan was handing out
packages and flyers to everyone
who came over to her booth.
"Do you have a catalog of things
you offer?" Gideon asked her. "I
could use that at the front desk."
"Yes, here," Susan said as she
handed him a pamphlet. "These
are standard goods and services."
She added a flyer. "And these are
for refugees from the Big One."
"Thank you," said Gideon.
"This should help a lot."
That was close to the end
of the row of tables, and
the rest were so mobbed
that he couldn't reach them.
Gideon looped back through
the hallways to the lobby.
"How are things going
here?" he asked Rakin.
"All right," Rakin said.
"The hotel supplies are
holding out. We still have
vacancies -- I'm marking
claims in the system as
guests choose. Booths
here are still staffed."
"You're doing well,"
Gideon assured him.
Suddenly a fresh gush
of people poured through
the doors of the hotel.
"What the heck is this?"
Gideon said, frowning.
At the front of the crowd,
a large man and a teen girl
half-carried, half-dragged
someone between them.
"I'm Mack Kenworth, and this
is our teleporter, Big Truck --
Ben Williamson," said the man.
"He got us here, and then crashed."
"Does he need any first aid?"
Gideon said. "We've got
a booth and some nurses --"
"No, I think he just needs
food and rest," said Mack.
"Okay, then set him down
on the couch so you can
take a break," said Gideon.
The people already there
scrambled out of their way
as the three people sat down.
"We're earthquake refugees
and heard this was a place
to stay," the girl added.
"I'm Josie Williamson."
Gideon looked at her
and Big Truck, who was
close to the same age and
clinging. "We'll find a place
for you and your brother."
"He's my husband, not
my brother," Josie said.
"Oh, sorry," said Gideon,
and then to his surprise,
her backpack gurgled. It
had a baby inside it. "How
many kids do you have?"
"One and a half," Josie said,
free hand touching her belly,
although it still seemed flat.
"Congratulations," said Gideon.
"Do you want two bedrooms or
three? The units on this floor
have one or two, so if that'll do,
you won't have to go as far."
"We'll take it," said Josie.
"I'm not due for months,
and Posy can share."
The teleporter revived
enough to ask, "Can I get
some calories, please?"
"Of course," Gideon said,
went to grab a food bar from
the stash behind the counter.
He had a couple of baskets, since
he liked Millennium Energy Bars for
their multiple flavors, but Quadscore had
suggested the EveryOne 3600 Calorie
Survival Food Bars in case someone with
a high-burn metabolism needed to refuel.
"Here, you can start with this," Gideon said,
handing Big Truck an EveryOne bar.
Big Truck wolfed down the food
in just a few bites. "Thanks."
It was a good thing Gideon
had listened to Quadscore.
"Do you like hummus?"
Gideon asked Big Truck.
"Olives, olive oil, dates,
pita bread or pita chips?"
"Yeah," Big Truck said.
"You just named some of
my favorite road munchies."
Gideon snagged Bassam Ismail,
who was serving as a gopher.
"Gather a big tub of hummus,
gallon jugs of olives and olive oil,
a date brick, and a bag of flatbread.
Bring everything to Unit A in Tower A."
Then he turned to the refugees. "I've
been letting people pick rooms from
what's available, but that's closest."
"Oh, I vote for closest," said Josie,
and Big Truck said, "Yeah, I can
barely budge, don't wanna go far."
"Then let's get you somewhere
private," Gideon said, beckoning.
Josie and Mack managed to get
Big Truck on his feet. "Where
are we headed?" she asked.
"This way," Gideon said. He
led them to the relevant unit
and helped them to settle
Big Truck on the couch.
"Thank you," said Mack.
"I can sit with him while
you get things sorted."
"Josie, let me show you
the nursery," Gideon said,
leading her to the tiny room.
"It has its own bathroom, along
with a crib and folding playpen.
Up here are baskets with a few toys
for different ages. Would Posy like
toys for 7-12 months or 1 year olds?"
"I don't know, she just had a birthday
last month," said Josie. "Maybe pick
something of out each basket?"
"Good idea," said Gideon. "Here's
a rainbow ball and a dolly from
the younger set, and this squirrel
is a pull toy from the older set."
"I think those should work,
thanks," Josie said with relief.
"Bah!" Posy squealed, and
Josie passed her the ball.
"She likes bath toys too, she's
a real swimmer," said Josie.
"I'll have to see if I can find
some of those ... later ..."
"Bath toys are in a bucket
in the bathroom," said Gideon.
"Oh, thank goodness," said Josie.
"Without those, she thinks we're
at the pool and tries to swim, and
everything's already so muddled."
"Could you tell me a little about
what happened?" Gideon asked.
"It looked like a lot of people ..."
Josie sighed. "Ben and I
lost almost everything when
our apartment building collapsed
during the earthquake," she said.
"That's rough," said Gideon.
"That was a few days ago?"
"Yeah, Ben -- Big Truck --
he crammed all the survivors
we could find into his truck,"
Josie said. "Then he teleported
everything to an emergency station
in Carson City, Nevada that he knew."
"That's a good start," said Gideon.
"Did they fill up or something?"
"They were overflowing, and we
had a way out," said Josie. "So
we took it. Big Truck teleported
a hundred people in the trailer,
including his parents and some of
his coworkers from Haul Away Joe's,
plus twelve more pregnant women in
the sleeper of his semitruck to here."
"One moment please," Gideon said,
making a note to find those women.
"It sounds like you've had a hard time,
and you both look pretty young --"
"We're not careless teens," Josie said.
"I got pregnant after a water rescue left
me with nasty scrapes, then the antibiotics
messed up my birth control. Both Ben
and I have -- had -- good jobs."
"Sorry," said Gideon "I'm
used to working with refugees
including teen parents, so I know
that they can be responsible."
"That's better than some folks
I've known," Josie admitted.
"What kind of work did you
do before?" Gideon asked her.
"Ben started out as a truck driver
before he souped up," said Josie.
"They gave him a truck to stay on."
"Well, that's good," said Gideon.
"I'm sure people will need lots of
supplies moved around now."
"Yeah, but I'm a lifeguard, and
I don't know how much call there
is for recreation here," said Josie.
"Would you like a job?" Gideon said.
"Family Business Rest has a pool, but
I've never managed to keep a lifeguard
more than briefly. Teens do it, but then
they go to college. I just open the pool
on weekends for 'swim at your own risk,'
but I'd really rather have a lifeguard
and keep it open more of the time."
"I'll take the job," said Josie. "Wait,
I need to figure out childcare for Posy.
Ben's parents are here but I only had
my grandmother and she didn't make it."
"I'm so sorry to hear that," said Gideon.
"Maybe I can help with childcare and
working through refugee needs."
"How?" said Josie. "We have
a place to stay, but there's just
so much else to worry about."
"If you want to leave your daughter
somewhere safe so you can go around
to the booths you need, then you could
place her in the children's play area,"
said Gideon. "That would also give
you a chance to meet some of
the other young mothers here --
they've set up a daycare today."
"Others?" Josie said, then made
a complicated face. "I don't often
have much in common with most
of the other teen moms I've met.
And most of the dads ... aren't."
"I think Fariha is a good mom,"
said Gideon. "She's 19 now, and
her son Karif is almost 2. She
also has two older kids from
her husband's first wife. You
can meet Fariha at the daycare."
"I guess it wouldn't hurt to take
a look," said Josie. "There's just
so much that I need to do now."
"I can show you where it is,"
said Gideon. "You might also
like my concierge, Rakin. He's
15, his wife Nisa is 17, and
their daughter Lamis is 3."
"That's ... wow," said Josie.
"How is he working for you?
I mean, is that even legal?"
"Well, we had to fight for it,"
said Gideon. "Family Services
was bothering them, trying to treat
all three as children. Rakin and
Nisa had been living as adults for
a while already, so that wouldn't fly.
I offered him a job, and that helped
both of them get early majority."
"Good for you," said Josie.
"Lots of people tend to treat
teen parents as trash, and I
really get tired of that crud."
"You've got support here if you
want it," said Gideon. "Shall we
let your family know where you'll be?"
"Yeah, let's go," said Josie. "Mack
will stay with Big Truck for a while.
Maybe he'll room with us -- I didn't
know this had an extra nursery
beyond the two bedrooms."
"The blueprints call that
a maid's room," said Gideon.
"It seemed like a bit much,
since I'm still short of staff,
so I call it a nursery instead."
Josie chuckled, then went
back to the living room
where Big Truck and
Mack sat on the couch.
"I'm going to put Posy in
childcare just long enough
for me to loop the booths and
see what stuff I can get there,"
Josie said, kissing Big Truck.
"Sounds good," he said,
and kissed her back.
A knock on the door
announced Bassam,
who held a cooler piled
with food. "Hummus and
stuff on top, cheese and
eggs down where it's cool."
"Thank you," Josie said
as she took the cooler.
"Give me that," said Mack.
"I'll set up a hummus tray,
then put the cold food away
while you hit the booths. Once
you're done, I'll take my turn."
As soon as the food hit
the coffee table, Big Truck
started devouring the spread.
"Hey, there's a little nursery
by the kitchen, so you can
have the second bedroom,"
Josie said to Mack. "I know
you and Big Truck are close."
"Thank you," said Mack. "I'll see
what's up. I may take that room."
They hugged, and then Josie
followed Gideon into the hallway.
"The Children's Playroom is just
a few doors down from here, beside
the stairs," he said. "We needed
somewhere indoors for them."
High laughter spilled out, even
before he opened the door.
Inside, Fariha sat in a circle
of playful children who had
taken over the living room.
"Welcome," she said. "I'm
Fariha and this is my son Karif.
I watch children in daycare.
Bedroom is for napping."
"My name is Nisa Hamidi.
My daughter is Lamis,"
said another girl. "I do
hospitality and childcare.
Welcome to Rutledge."
"I'm Josie, and this
is my daughter Posy,"
she said. "I don't think
she'll be ready for a nap
anytime soon, and I need
to visit the refugee booths."
"Here is guestbook, you
sign," Fariha said, pointing
to a tablet computer. "Room
open late, until nine tonight."
"I don't need nearly that long,"
Josie said as she signed in.
"Well, I hope that I don't."
"Everything here wraps up
at nine, so that people can
try to sleep," said Gideon.
"You can do more tomorrow."
"We have family clubs too, for
young parents, like Halal Mamas,"
said Nisa. "You could come to
a meeting and make friends?"
"I'm not Muslim," Josie said.
"Isn't halal just for Muslims?"
"Club is for anyone with babies --
trying, pregnant, or nursing -- who
wants food with zero alcohol,"
Fariha explained. "So, you do
breast or bottle for Posy?"
"Mostly breast," said Josie.
"Yeah, no alcohol is good."
"We share food and recipes,"
said Nisa. "You could join us."
"I think I'd like that," said Josie.
"Back home, some people were
pretty mean to us, so we didn't
have a lot of friends except
for some of Ben's coworkers."
Gideon was willing to bet that
those coworkers had gotten
an offer to ride out with him.
Josie deposited Posy on
a farm-themed play mat,
which instantly fascinated
her so they could slip out.
"Best start at the beginning,
I think," said Gideon. "I put
the most crucial booths in
the lobby, so if you begin
with those, then you'll have
a good foundation even if
something pulls you away."
"Yeah, Mack knows to call me
if Ben needs me," said Josie.
Gideon left her at the first booth,
which offered refugee ID cards.
Then he went to check on Rakin,
and wound up leaning against
the front counter for support.
"Are you all right, sir?"
Rakin asked, hovering
at his elbow, worried.
"I will be," Gideon said.
"We have 112 new people
here, more if they didn't count
themselves in that number."
"We still have rooms left,"
said Rakin. "Single people
might have to share, though."
"That's a good idea," said Gideon.
He grabbed a whiteboard and
stand, then wrote at the top,
Singles Seeking Roommates:
Male -- Female -- Other.
He propped it in front of
the counter so people
could sort themselves
before requesting rooms.
Then Gideon found himself
leaning on the counter again.
"You look like you're running
short on fuel," Rakin observed.
"Fuel, energy, patience, daylight,"
Gideon said. "I have too much to do
and not nearly enough to do it with."
"Here," said Rakin. "Someone brought
Maple Morning Glory Breakfast Muffins.
Eat something and take care of yourself."
Gideon bit into a muffin and groaned
in pleasure. "This really hits the spot."
"I saw a quote, watching the news
about the earthquake," said Rakin.
"Whether it is a tsunami, a hurricane,
or an earthquake -- when we see
these great fatal and natural acts,
people of every ethnic persuasion
come together and they just want
to help." He tapped the plate.
Gideon looked around at
the crowded lobby full of
all different people, some
of them refugees needing
help, others former refugees
now able to offer their help.
"Yes," he said, draping an arm
around Rakin's shoulders to give
him a little squeeze. "Good people
make the hard times bearable."
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character and content notes will appear separately.
