Chapter 18 #2
“We are working on that,” Pan said. “We are trying to learn and help, but we are tripped by your regulations, and no one has the time to tell my builders how to get the piece of paper, so they are approved. Even Linda’s friend is having difficulty, and he apparently knows people.
Everyone says they’re too busy.” David shot him a glare.
“Which I understand. However, we have many hands who are willing because this is our world now, too. You are my people too, even if you do not remember my names.” And he was unable to perform when they needed him the most. He could not stand up in front of everyone and admit his failure.
“No one will approve the use of mythological teachers and builders because they have not been vetted. Your standards are different.”
“Yes, and I am reasonably sure your oldest students do not learn theories about magic, nor are they expected to learn the customs of a dozen different cultures that are melded into one city. They do not learn about the governance of a city-state, with its Lord and Strega, Knight and King. They are not taught about the different gods and how to select the one they feel most appropriate for themselves…or even which one to seek help from, depending on the situation, as every god uses their connection to magic differently. Those things do not matter here. However, learning to read and write is important, and I am sure that three and three still equals six, the same way it did a thousand years ago, and ten thousand years ago. Numbers are a constant we can agree on.”
David huffed, snorting the air out of his nose like a dragon. “Agreed. There is an online meeting tomorrow, and I cannot be the only one in this situation.”
“You may be the only one in a town where Tarikians know English. And while some have learned letters, they take longer than learning spoken language.” Pan pointed at the drak by the fire. “They picked up letters quickly.”
“We have been reading the books that came with the clothes,” Inari said. “We know cats sit on mats and that every letter has its own book…except for the last three because you do not like words that begin with them, so they share a book.”
David managed to crack a smile. “True. Are you reading to other mythologicals at the rec center?”
“No, we are helping the teachers learn to read so they may teach the children. But some are too sad to learn.” She shook her head. “They lost all family and are scared of what will happen. We lost all family and were lucky to be found.” She smiled at Pan.
If he wasn’t a god, they would’ve ditched him and been all in with Linda. He didn’t blame them for acting in their own best interest.
“I can’t suggest to the education board that we spend time teaching mythological teachers English.
However, I can say that mythologicals learn English fast, and that they have begun teaching their students, and that perhaps it would be prudent to bring their children into our system.
Both so they learn about our world and perhaps so we can learn about them. I expected to go down like a stone.”
“Sink to the bottom and be eaten by mermaids?” Pan asked, reasonably sure he was correct.
“Exactly,” David said.
“That is not a good outcome.” Pan pressed his lips together, not sure how to avoid mermaids in that situation.
“But at some point, mytho children will need to go to school…they can’t be kept separate. Can they?” Noah asked. “That would be wrong…like segregation or something…you can’t separate them because they aren’t human, can you?”
“I hope not. But the US has already rounded them up and put them in camps. The European Union has already said they will not be doing that as it is inhumane.”
“What do you mean, put them in camps?” Pan tilted his head.
“They fenced off areas to keep mythologicals separate from humans.”
“For how long?”
“Until they decide what to do with them.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means the US doesn’t want to be seen to be killing them, but they don’t want them in society. They are using the word monster.”
“If humans are doing that, we are not the monsters,” Pan snapped. “If you had arrived in my world, what do you think would have happened?” He stood. “I am going to check on the plants.”
“Silas…” David said.
Pan ignored him. David knew his preferred name but still called him Silas, so he didn’t make a mistake around others. He didn’t deserve to know about Noah’s coat.
“It’s raining, and I can assure you they haven’t sprouted despite the prodigious amount of dragon shit,” David called after him.
Linda had decided that they too needed to turn the backyard into a vegetable garden and make use of the vast quantities of dragon poo available.
She figured that if food shortages were coming, at least they would have something to eat in three months’ time.
Three months was a long time to exist on famine rations.
Now that all the excess food had been eaten from the pub, the meals were thinner. More soup and less meat.
The next time the farmer arrived with a dead animal, Pan would be tempted to claim a leg for himself and roast it over the fire, to hell with what Noah called health and safety standards.
He stood at the back door watching the rain and willing the seeds to grow faster. Then he cursed his lack of magic for not being able to give the seeds the encouragement they needed.
Noah and David spoke in low voices, but he didn’t want to hear it. They were all tired and all trying, and sniping at each other wasn’t going to help.
But if the human world had collapsed into Tariko, there would be no camps to keep them separate.
They would’ve been housed, most likely in the city square and palace gardens at first. They’d have been fed and watered and taught the language.
Then they would have started the process of assessing their skills to determine how they could best contribute, and the children would have been sent to school.
And while it would’ve taken time, houses would’ve been built.
An idea popped to the surface.
He walked back to the kitchen, where Noah still sat at the table with David.
“We need to create a registry of skills; that way, when asked, we can tell the humans in charge who is a builder, and who is a teacher, and who is a farmer, or blacksmith, or potter.
We have leather workers and cobblers and dozens of other trades.
This is our home now, and we will find a way to thrive, with or without your approval, as we have for centuries.
“After a disaster, our society didn’t refuse help just because it came from an unfamiliar source.
We worked together because we understand all is connected through magic.
” He tapped his chest. “And while it is sorely lacking in this world, it still exists. And you would do well to remember that the hurt you cause us ultimately only harms yourselves.”
David nodded. “Unfortunately, it’s not me you need to convince.”