PIERRE MARCHAIS - DAY 22

After two days of uninterrupted rain, the sun had reappeared in the Breton sky. A few white clouds dotted the sky, as blue as the sea, and everyone agreed that this splendid weather would last at least a week. However, it was only wishful thinking, as without weather reports, certainty was impossible.

All that could be heard was the cry of seagulls. Sometimes these seabirds seemed to be scolding someone, but most of the time, you would think they had been told a good joke.

The air temperature was pleasant and invited people to leave their homes and go for walks on the numerous beaches in the area.

Pierre lazily stepped out of his new house and stretched in the sun.

It was a second home belonging to a Parisian named Charles Petit, who only visited a few weeks a year. Since it was highly unlikely he would ever return to Saint-Pabu, the mayor had generously allowed Pierre to settle there.

It was quite modest, not even 100m2 (1076 square feet), and located on the outskirts of the small town. However, it was much larger than what he owned in Paris, about twice as big. The old prices were simply incomparable. The most important thing was that this house had a garden!

Behind it, separated by a thick hedge and a few trees, lay countless fields.

He had spoken a few times with Madame Le Gall, the mayor of Saint-Pabu, as well as with Yvon, the manager of La Goélette, to understand how things worked. Because suddenly having to support a thousand inhabitants without anyone's help put intense pressure on the mayor of Saint-Pabu.

She had summoned all the adults to the sports hall that usually hosted the tennis club. It wasn't very beautiful because the building resembled an ordinary warehouse, and it wasn't very large because it had never been used for an emergency meeting before.

Pierre dressed in what he had brought with him from Paris since the previous owners had left practically nothing behind. He wore each piece of clothing for five days before changing. The white shirt he was currently wearing was the one he had on when the power outage occurred. It was the first time he had worn it since then. Unfortunately, it still smelled of sweat. It was better than his previous top, which reeked of perspiration.

Because he understood that here in Saint-Pabu he was safe, he left his weapons and shiny armor in his new room.

The inhabitants of this commune, informed several days in advance of the holding of this exceptional meeting, had had time to organize themselves. Naturally, the curiosity of the children was so strong that it was expected they would try something to slip into the crowd. It wasn't very complicated, and some of them did manage it.

The ex-trader entered the already crowded building and searched in vain for the mayor's face. People were crowded together and all talking at once, which prevented him from understanding more than a few words.

Why were we called here? Did something happen?

A large hand then landed on Pierre's shoulder. It was Yvon. He wore a simple gray t-shirt with a turtle design on the back, reminiscent of tribal tattoos in the Pacific islands.

"Hey, Pierre! How's it going for you?"

"Hi, Yvon. Nothing new."

Yvon quickly realized that Pierre wasn't good at holding a conversation. In general, he responded directly to his questions and rarely tried to prolong the discussion. However, he hadn't given up on the idea of ​​getting him to talk more. Often, at the end of the day, he would visit him to force him to socialize and talk.

"And otherwise, are you enjoying being here?"

"In Saint-Pabu, you mean? Yeah, kinda. It's so quiet."

"Hahaha, yeah! I bet it feels weird for you! We're definitely better off than in Paris, right?"

"It's not the same, I'd say."

If he had to be honest, Paris and Saint-Pabu were opposites. He, who liked the hustle and bustle of big cities, felt like he was living in a graveyard. Everything was so silent, so peaceful.

There was almost nothing in this town, not even a cinema or a swimming pool. While he could live perfectly well without the former, the latter would have been a great help. He, who had suffered so much from his own smell, couldn't even stand himself anymore. He wanted to dive headfirst into the clear water, even if it was chlorinated, and clean himself up!

His hair was greasier than ever, his shirt clung to his skin even though he had just put it on, there was dirt under his nails, etc. There was the sea nearby, but that water was salty, which meant that if he dove in, there would inevitably be salt and sand on his skin and in his hair. The longer time passed, the stronger this temptation grew, especially since the water was clear in this area. The Breton beaches had nothing to envy the ones in the south of France.

He had been to the beach several times as a child, but from memory, they weren't as beautiful as these.

The nearest beach to his new house was so modest that it almost disappeared completely at high tide. It was behind a long dune a few meters high, protected by rocks supposed to limit coastal erosion at that point. When he went there, there were practically no people. It was as if Pierre had been alone in the world. He could have believed it if locals hadn't built buildings on top of the dune to be as close to the sea as possible.

"Do you know what Madame Le Gall is going to talk about?" Pierre finally asked, hands in pockets.

"Yes. We talked about it at length. Some of the things that will be announced are my ideas. But it's the result of teamwork. I just contributed my part."

Pierre nodded silently and didn't try to find out more, which frustrated Yvon a bit, who thought he had piqued the curiosity of this man who seemed as closed as an oyster at low tide.

He had, however, noticed a slight improvement since his arrival. This gave him hope of making him speak other than like an extremely limited robot.

"A little silence, please!"

"Silence! Madame Le Gall has arrived!"

Gradually, the room became silent. Because there was no microphone, Madame Le Gall had to force her voice. Luckily, it wasn't necessary to exaggerate because this room acted like an echo chamber. This also meant that all the noises made by the attendees were amplified.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she began in a solemn voice, "thank you for coming this morning. To not waste your time, I'll get straight to the point. It has now been twenty-two days since we have been deprived of water, gas, electricity, cars, and many other things. Our lives have been disrupted, but thanks to everyone's efforts, chaos has not taken over our lives. We helped each other and held on until now. But after three weeks of waiting, nothing has changed."

The men and women present nodded as if to encourage the woman in the black suit.

Pierre took the opportunity to look at their faces. Although tired, these people had not lost hope for the future. They still believed that the worst was behind them and that soon things would get better.

They still believe they will get back to their old lives. Fools.

At the back of the room, the mayor of the small town continued her speech in a tone that was meant to be confident and reassuring.

"We have been in contact with many neighboring towns and even more distant ones like Brest recently. But everywhere, the situation is the same. In some places, the situation is even worse than here, I think notably of Brest, which experienced significant disorders in some neighborhoods to such an extent that the army had to intervene to restore order. But, some of you may already know, we have also had news from Paris and other places located between us and the capital. Know that the situation there is catastrophic, partly due to the very large number of inhabitants. The lack of food has pushed a very large number of people into the streets who often resorted to violence for very little in reality. Some were killed for a tiny bit of food. This is one of the reasons that prompted me to gather you all here this morning. We must better organize ourselves to avoid falling into this situation. We need to produce more food. Not just to get through tomorrow, but to get through the winter. So, we need to build up reserves."

The inhabitants seemed surprised by this announcement, while in Pierre's eyes, it was logical.

Apparently, they didn't expect to have to produce the food they consumed daily. Either they didn't understand their situation, or they didn't want to understand. The world changed in a day; we have to adapt now. It should have already been done.

"I understand your reaction, and I share it. We have been so used to having to go to the supermarket to buy food that many of us have forgotten how to produce it. But we are lucky: our town is surrounded by fields, we have cows, and some people have chickens at home. We need to divide the tasks to maintain the fields, ensure that the crops are harvested on time and are good, we need people to milk the cows and promote their reproduction so that every family has access to fresh milk. The same must be done for poultry. If possible, each family should have a laying hen by the end of the summer. We rely on chicken owners to make themselves known and allow this goal to be achieved. That's not all: Saint-Pabu has another asset, it is linked to the sea. If many boats are no longer in working order, it is not the case for all. We ask those who own them to go to sea with nets and supply our town with fresh fish. For everyone else, we will need our shipyard friends to convert the boats into sailboats. In other words, we are going to need everyone to feed everyone."

The inhabitants warmly applauded the mayor of Saint-Pabu, although many of them were skeptical. Many felt like they had taken a big step back. However, Saint-Pabu had a clear advantage over big cities: its population was largely composed of agricultural workers or former agricultural workers, whereas in big cities, it was mostly a population living off services.

"The allocation of roles will be done voluntarily. We have numbered the agricultural plots belonging to our town as well as the ships in working condition. We have estimated that at least three people are needed per plot and two per boat. We ask you to come to the town hall to register your decision. People over sixty are not obliged to participate, as we have estimated that at this age they are entitled to enjoy their old age and rest. As for children, our opinion is that it is important for them to receive an education until the end of middle school, after which they will be invited to participate in the collective effort by joining the adults. Do you have any questions?"

Probably because of the shock, no one raised their hand to ask for the floor. What was being asked of them was a lot, but they understood perfectly that faced with such a situation, asking them to participate in the common good was the minimum. The proposals were thus accepted by everyone, although they still didn't fully understand what the consequences of this policy would be in the short, medium, and long term.

All they had retained, and certainly it was the essential, was that to eat, they were going to have to work hard and get their hands dirty.

Yvon turned to Pierre and was very satisfied to see astonishment on his usually very sober, almost impassive face.

Doing such a thing would certainly not have been possible in Paris. They must still be facing chaos right now... Wait, does that mean I'm going to have to work too?!