SandScript 2023 [Digital Exclusive]

“So, shall we dine together then? I figure if we’re
going to be working together it’s best to get to
know one another. Teamwork and all that.”
“What are you doing?” Bea’s question
seemed to startle him.
“Pardon?” The stupefied look on his face
didn’t help to quell her scowl.
“Why are you being nice to me? No other
Uppers have talked to me unless it was to
insult me or give me orders. Most of you just
ignore me. Is this some weird Upper trick? Be
nice to the filthy Scav so I don’t realize you’re
actually being mean?”
Roger blinked slowly. Twice. The realization
seemed to dawn on him that she wasn’t used
to people being friendly. It hadn’t occurred
to him that his colleagues would be rude or
aggressive toward their new partners.
“I’m sorry, Bea. We might be working together
for months, and if it takes a long time to fix the
engines, maybe years. You’ll be living up here,
so I just thought we should get off on the right
foot, you know?”
Well, Roger seemed to be telling the truth. As
much as Bea didn’t trust it, she had seemingly
wound up with one of the few Upperfolk who
didn’t seem to take pleasure in being cruel to
those from the lower levels. The thought of it
made her stomach somersault.
“Fine. We can eat together. But first, I think I
should change. That attendant guy said it like a
suggestion, but I get the feeling it was an order.”
one shade of gray. Surely whatever these
people had given her to wear for the long
term would be more comfortable.
Although he didn’t say anything, Roger
followed along down the west wing of the
dormitory. They walked in a sort of amicable
silence, and when they reached a door with
a plaque that read ‘Underfolk Dormitory’ Roger
motioned for her to go ahead, and that he’d wait
here in the hall.
The dorm was certainly nicer than Bea had
been expecting. Even though it was probably
the worst room in the whole building, it
was still leagues beyond what she and the
other Underfolk were used to. Rather than
individual rooms, each person had their
own area partitioned off by shelves and a
folding screen. Everybody was given a cot,
a footlocker, a wash basin, a chair, shelves,
and a mirror. It was clear that the others had
already been through here: the old utilitarian
clothing had been dumped in a large hamper
in the center of the room, and the untouched
beds had neatly folded clothing on top.
Bea found the little cubicle with her name
on it, grimacing at the usage of her full
name, Beatrice, and settled on changing
into the new clothes. They were soft, softer
than anything she had ever felt before. The
clothing wasn’t light gray anymore, but not
nearly as bright as the clothing typically worn
by other Upperfolk. No, these still had an air of
otherness to them. It seemed that everybody
was given different colors—her pants and top
were made of dark grays and blacks, while
the provided cloak was a deep burgundy.
The clothes she was currently wearing
were not the same filthy scraps she wore
at home in the slums, but they certainly felt
uncomfortable. It was a utilitarian ensemble,
itchy, uncomfortable, and only available in
88
The clothes themselves fit rather comfortably
and weren’t nearly as boxy and oversized
as the previous garments. If the entire
situation wasn’t so odd, Bea might have
thought to wonder when they had gotten