The Things We Repair
Copyright© 2026 by Flubu
Chapter 16: Ordinary Traffic
The feed cooperative called at eight seventeen the next morning.
Daniel was standing beneath the weather mast with one boot braced against its lowest concrete footing, attempting to persuade a weatherproof junction box to close around three cables it had never been designed to contain.
Neris crouched beside him with a diagnostic reader balanced across one knee. Fine snow had collected along the white stripe on her head and in the longer fur around her ears. Her tail lay across the ground behind her, curled away from the open housing to keep it clear of Daniel’s tools.
The receiver had listened through the night.
It had heard nothing.
ER considered this statistically unremarkable.
Neris considered it personally offensive.
Daniel’s phone vibrated inside his jacket.
He tried to ignore it while holding the box cover in place.
It vibrated again.
“Your device appears determined,” Neris said.
“So does this lid.”
“The upper cable is misaligned.”
“It was aligned before you added the shielding.”
“The shielding is necessary.”
“The lid disagrees.”
“The lid possesses no relevant expertise.”
Daniel leaned harder.
The cover snapped into place.
The lower corner immediately sprang open.
Neris looked at it.
Daniel looked at it.
ER’s voice emerged from the communicator attached to the tool case.
“The enclosure has rejected your solution.”
Daniel released the cover.
“The enclosure can live open.”
“Moisture ingress would compromise the timing oscillator.”
“Then the timing oscillator can learn to swim.”
His phone vibrated a third time.
Neris lifted one ear.
“You should answer.”
Daniel pulled off one glove and retrieved the phone.
The screen showed the feed cooperative’s number.
He answered.
“Mercer.”
A familiar voice spoke over diesel noise and the hollow rattle of a truck cab.
“Morning, Daniel. Marcel from North River.”
Daniel looked toward the eastern lane.
“You’re not supposed to be here until Thursday.”
“That was before the weather office decided we’re getting another system. They moved half the route forward. I’ve got your mineral and supplement on the truck now.”
Daniel straightened.
“How far out?”
“Just leaving the highway turnoff. Forty-five minutes if your concession road hasn’t turned into a skating rink.”
Daniel looked at Neris.
She had understood enough from his expression.
“The road’s passable,” he said. “Take the south approach. North curve drifted overnight.”
“I’ll call when I’m close.”
The line disconnected.
For several seconds, the wind moved dry snow across the ridge.
Neris closed the diagnostic reader.
“A delivery.”
“Yes.”
“To the farm.”
“That’s generally where they bring things.”
“How many people?”
“Probably just Marcel.”
“Does he know you well?”
Daniel began gathering tools.
“Well enough.”
“That is not a measurable answer.”
“He’s delivered here for twelve years. He knew my father. He knew Emily.”
Neris’s ears shifted back.
“When will he arrive?”
“Forty-five minutes. Maybe less.”
She looked toward the trees concealing Takuhai.
“I will return to the ship.”
Daniel coiled the extension cable.
“That’s safest.”
The words were out before he heard how they sounded.
Neris’s expression did not change dramatically. Her tail drew a little closer to her body.
Daniel stopped coiling.
“Neris—”
“The receiver should remain active.”
“It will.”
“I can monitor it from Takuhai.”
“ER can monitor it.”
“Yes.”
She stood and brushed snow from her knees.
Daniel watched the precise way she packed the diagnostic reader into its case. Everything returned to its assigned place. Nothing struck harder than necessary.
“You don’t have to go all the way back to the ship,” he said.
Her ears turned toward him.
“The machinery shed has an enclosed upper storage loft. Nobody uses it this time of year. You’d be closer if something goes wrong.”
“That would also place me closer to the visitor.”
“It’s hidden from the feed yard.”
Neris looked toward the farm buildings.
The mast stood on the western rise. From there, the barn, feed shed and cattle yard lay exposed below, connected by tracks of compressed snow. The main lane curved in from the south and ended near the bulk-feed bins.
Human life reached the farm through that lane.
Suppliers. Veterinarians. Neighbours. Claire, if she ever decided to visit without warning.
For weeks, the road had been mostly empty.
That had begun to feel normal.
It was not.
“I can remain in the loft,” Neris said.
Daniel nodded.
“We’ll connect your communicator to the yard camera. ER can keep you informed.”
“He can already keep me informed.”
“I know.”
She lifted the tool case.
Daniel reached for the heavier side.
Neris did not release it.
“I can carry it.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
“Because we’re already carrying it.”
For a moment she looked at him.
The words had belonged to her once.
Her grip eased.
Daniel took one handle, and they carried the case down the ridge together.
The farm had less than forty minutes to become ordinary.
Daniel drove the tractor from the feed yard to the machinery shed and parked it where it would conceal the workshop door from the lane. He cleared loose tools from the bulk-bin controls, moved Neris’s modified cable spool beneath a tarp and carried the second mug from the tractor shed into the farmhouse.
Neris followed him through the process, increasingly unconvinced.
“You are removing evidence of my presence.”
“I’m moving things Marcel will ask about.”
“That is the same action described differently.”
Daniel placed the mug in the sink.
“It isn’t because I’m ashamed of you.”
“I did not say it was.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Neris folded her arms.
Her tail occupied most of the kitchen doorway.
Daniel looked at her.
“I’m not hiding you because I don’t want people to know you.”
Her gaze moved toward the window.
“The result is nevertheless that they cannot.”
Daniel had no quick answer.
Outside, Mabel struck the feed-yard gate.
The weakened hinge answered with a metallic clang.
Daniel looked toward the sound.
“That needs fixing.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“I also had a dimensional receiver to build yesterday.”
“You still have one today.”
“And now I have a feed truck coming.”
Neris’s ears lowered slightly.
“Human life is poorly scheduled.”
“Finally, something we agree on.”
The attempt at humour did not reach her.
Daniel rested both hands on the edge of the sink.
“I know this is difficult.”
“You know it is inconvenient.”
“No.”
He waited until she looked at him.
“I know what it’s like to have a place in someone’s life that nobody else can see.”
The kitchen became quiet.
Daniel had not intended to say it.
Emily’s illness had gradually reduced their world to the farmhouse, the hospital, the pharmacy and the farm routines he completed while she slept. People had known he was caring for her. That was not the same as knowing what their days had become.
There had been entire parts of his life no one else could enter.
Neris’s posture softened.
“This is not the same,” she said.
“No.”
“But it resembles it.”
“A little.”
She looked down at her paws.
Daniel continued.
“Marcel knowing about you isn’t only my decision.”
“I am aware.”
“If he sees you, we don’t control what happens next. Not to you, not to ER, not to the farm.”
“I am aware of that as well.”
“I know.”
He reached for his coat.
“That doesn’t make it feel any better.”
“No.”
This time the answer held no resistance.
Daniel pulled on his gloves.
“When it’s safe to tell people, I won’t pretend you weren’t here.”
Neris’s eyes lifted.
“When will it be safe?”
He stopped.
The truthful answer was that he did not know.
Perhaps when Xianglume contacted them.
Perhaps when Neris could leave.
Perhaps never.
“I can’t promise when,” he said. “Only that I won’t keep you hidden because hiding is easier for me.”
Her tail moved once behind her.
“That is not a complete solution.”
“No.”
“It is also not nothing.”
Daniel nodded.
“It’s what I’ve got.”
The communicator on the counter lit.
ER said, “Marcel Gagnon’s vehicle has entered the southern concession road.”
Daniel looked toward the speaker.
“You identified him?”
“His truck transmits a commercial fleet identifier. Daniel’s farm tablet previously stored the delivery company’s routing application.”
Neris looked at Daniel.
“He is eight minutes away.”
“You can access the yard camera from the loft,” Daniel said.
“I do not require entertainment.”
“It isn’t entertainment. If something goes wrong, I want you to know.”
“What could go wrong during a feed delivery?”
Mabel struck the gate again.
Clang.
Daniel looked toward the yard.
“Plenty.”
The machinery shed loft had once stored small square hay bales before Daniel shifted most of the farm to larger round bales and wrapped silage. Now it contained spare fencing supplies, empty seed bags, an old calf sled and several boxes Daniel had not opened since his father died.
Neris climbed the narrow stairs.
The loft window overlooked the feed yard through dusty glass. From there, she could see the bulk bins, the unloading pad and part of the cattle enclosure while remaining hidden in shadow.
Daniel handed her the farm tablet.
ER’s interface filled the screen beside live feeds from three yard cameras.
A communicator remained clipped to Neris’s jacket.
“Do not speak through Daniel’s phone unless necessary,” she told ER.
“I understand operational secrecy.”
“You commented on his driving while Edith was beside the truck.”
“Her presence was not confirmed.”
“She was visible through the windscreen.”
“The image quality was inadequate.”
Daniel leaned against the ladder.
“Try not to start an argument with him until the truck leaves.”
“I do not start arguments,” ER said.
Neris looked at Daniel.
“Go.”
He hesitated.
She stood at the loft window, partly concealed by stacked fencing rolls. Her tail curved close around her legs to keep it out of view.
Daniel climbed down.
The truck appeared three minutes later.
It came through the south gate slowly, a large tandem-axle feed vehicle painted white beneath layers of road salt and grey slush. Its tyres crushed the new snow into dark tracks. Diesel rolled across the yard, followed by the squeal of brakes and the rattle of the unloading auger folded along the truck’s side.
Daniel lifted one arm to guide it toward the bins.
Marcel leaned out of the cab.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
“You weren’t kidding about that drift.”
“Wind turned after midnight.”
Marcel backed into position.
He was in his late fifties, broad through the shoulders and permanently red across the cheeks from years of cold loading yards. A black toque covered what remained of his hair. He climbed down with a clipboard tucked beneath one arm.
His boots struck the packed snow.
“Thought I’d have to call a grader.”
“Road’s worse past my north field.”
“I heard. Tremblay’s truck slid into the ditch before six.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“Only his pride.”
Marcel looked toward the cattle yard.
Mabel struck the gate.
Clang.
He raised an eyebrow.
“You teaching them music?”
“She figured it out herself.”
“Smart cow.”
“Don’t encourage her.”
Above them, hidden behind the loft window, Neris watched the exchange through both glass and camera feeds.
ER placed a line of text across the farm tablet.
MARCEL GAGNON: KNOWN CONTACT. DELIVERY HISTORY: 12.4 YEARS. CURRENT THREAT INDICATORS: NONE.
Neris muted the notification.
Marcel opened the rear control box on the truck.
“You got that old weather station going?”
Daniel glanced toward the western ridge.
The mast was visible above the field, its repaired housing a small dark shape against the pale sky.
“Working on it.”
“What for?”
“Local wind, temperature. Snow accumulation if I can get the sensor calibrated.”
Marcel nodded.
“Forecast apps can’t tell you what’s happening in your own yard.”
“That’s the idea.”
“Your dad would approve.”
Daniel looked down at the delivery sheet.
“Maybe.”
“He spent enough time fighting with that thing.”
“He liked numbers.”
“He liked proving the radio wrong.”
Daniel smiled despite himself.
Marcel studied him.
“Good to see you fixing things again.”
The words were casual.
Marcel turned toward the truck before Daniel could answer, already reaching for the auger controls.
Daniel remained still.
Above the yard, Neris heard the pause through his communicator.
She saw his face only in profile on the camera, but something in it changed.
Other people had noticed.
They had noticed when Daniel stopped repairing things that could be left broken. They had noticed when usefulness narrowed into survival. They had seen the farm continue and understood that its owner had not continued in quite the same way.
Marcel activated the auger.
The truck’s machinery roared.
Mineral supplement began moving through the delivery hose into the first bin.
ER sent another line to Neris’s tablet.
DANIEL’S RESPIRATORY RATE INCREASED FOLLOWING MARCEL’S STATEMENT.
Neris typed back:
DO NOT ANALYSE HIM FOR ME.
ER replied:
I AM ANALYSING HIM FOR OPERATIONAL AWARENESS.
She stared at the text.
Then entered:
YOU ARE ALSO CONCERNED.
The reply took longer.
THE CATEGORIES ARE NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE.
Below, Daniel checked the bin level while Marcel managed the truck.
“Got help around here now?” Marcel called over the machinery.
Daniel’s shoulders tightened.
“What makes you ask?”
“Weather mast. North waterer’s running. Your workshop light was on past midnight when I came through last week.”
“You came through last week?”
“Delivered to Anderson.”
Daniel looked toward the road.
Marcel grinned.
“Small place, Daniel. People see lights.”
Neris’s ears lowered.
Daniel said, “I’ve had some help.”
“Good.”
Marcel did not ask who.
For that restraint, Daniel was grateful.
“Family?” Marcel said after a moment.
“A friend.”
The word travelled through the communicator into the loft.
Neris looked down at the yard.
Daniel had not said hired hand.
He had not said neighbour.
He had not invented a cousin.
A friend.
It was both far smaller and far more dangerous than the truth.
Marcel nodded.
“About time.”
Daniel looked at him.
Marcel shrugged.
“Farm’s too much for one person, whether you admit it or not.”
The first bin alarm sounded.
They moved the auger to the second.
The cattle became restless as the truck changed position. Diesel noise, moving equipment and the smell of fresh mineral drew several animals toward the feed-yard rail.
Mabel struck the gate again.
Clang.
Daniel glanced over.
The lower hinge shifted.
He saw it this time.
A narrow line appeared between the hinge plate and the wooden post.
“Marcel, hold up.”
The truck engine drowned his voice.
Daniel walked toward the gate.
Mabel struck it again.
The hinge plate tore free.
The lower corner of the gate swung outward.
The animals behind it moved as a single dark mass.
Daniel ran.
“Back!”
Mabel stepped through first.
Two younger cattle followed, pressing into the opening while the remaining gate twisted on its upper hinge.
Marcel shut down the auger.
“What happened?”
“Gate let go.”
Daniel reached Mabel and spread his arms, turning her away from the truck. She stopped, considered him, then attempted to move around his left side.
The younger cattle followed her decision.
Daniel shifted again.
“Marcel, close the truck controls and block the lane.”
Marcel moved quickly, swinging the unloading hose clear.
From the machinery loft, Neris watched the opening widen.
The yard camera showed Daniel between three cattle and the truck. Marcel was moving toward the lane, but the remaining herd had begun crowding the damaged gate.
If the upper hinge failed, the entire group would spill into the unloading area.
Neris picked up the communicator.
“ER.”
“The inner machinery-shed door opens into the service alley behind the cattle shelter.”
“I know.”
“You will be visible from the truck if you cross the main yard.”
“I will not cross the main yard.”
She placed the tablet on a bale and moved down the loft stairs.
“Neris,” ER said.
“Track Marcel.”
“His current position is beside the truck’s forward axle.”
“Alert me if he moves toward the shelter.”
“You intend to intervene.”
“The gate will fail.”
“Daniel has not requested assistance.”
“He is occupied.”
Neris reached the lower shed and opened the rear service door.
Cold air entered.
A narrow alley ran between the machinery shed and the cattle shelter, hidden from the unloading pad by stacked bales and the bulk bins. She moved quickly along it, tail lifted clear of the snow.
At the far end, she could see the back of the damaged gate through the shelter opening.
The cattle nearest it knew her.
That had been accidental at first.
Over weeks of fence repair, feed checks and waterer work, they had learned her scent, her voice and the movement of her tail. They no longer treated her as a threat.
They did, however, treat her as interesting.
Neris slipped into the shelter.
A young cow turned and pressed her nose toward Neris’s shoulder.
“Not now.”
The cow sniffed the fur around her collar.
Neris moved past her.
The gate shifted again.
She seized the inside rail and pulled it toward the post.
The cattle pushed from the other side.
The upper hinge groaned.
“Neris,” ER said quietly, “Marcel remains near the truck. Daniel is moving Mabel toward the north pen.”
“Find me a temporary fastening.”
“There is a length of chain hanging beside the shelter entrance.”
Neris saw it.
The chain was beyond two cattle standing shoulder to shoulder.
She tried to move around them.
One turned with her.
The other became interested in her tail.
A broad muzzle pressed into the white fur near its middle.
Neris froze.
“Release that.”
The cow breathed heavily into her tail.
“Neris,” ER said, “Marcel has turned toward the gate.”
She pulled gently.
The cow followed.
“This is not a game.”
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