The Things We Repair
Copyright© 2026 by Flubu
Chapter 4: The Market
Six days after the crash, on the first Saturday Neris spent on Earth, she saw the nearest town through the passenger window of Daniel’s truck.
She did not leave the vehicle.
Takuhai’s cultural assessment remained incomplete, her English still paused where the implant searched for context, and no amount of borrowed clothing could convincingly disguise her face or tail at close range. The trip was necessary because Daniel needed a stainless valve, ceramic insulation, and several lengths of tubing for the coolant manifold. Neris would identify likely materials from the truck while he collected them from the farm-supply counter beside the weekly market.
Daniel called it getting out of the woods.
Before leaving, they negotiated what would happen if the truck failed, if police stopped them, or if someone recognized that Neris was not human. Daniel carried a blanket large enough to cover her completely, a written list of harmless explanations, and enough farm paperwork to justify the fittings and tubing in the truck. Neris carried no advanced tool that could be discovered. ER’s link could be cut with one switch beneath the dashboard.
“If the link fails, you return directly,” ER said.
“If the truck fails, returning directly becomes difficult,” Daniel replied.
“Then avoid mechanical failure.”
“Excellent plan.”
They left the farm before sunrise. The road-accessible Moose River district lay far enough north that distance affected every errand. The road was narrow, patched, and rimmed with dark spruce. Low ground held black water beneath skin-thin ice. Hydro poles followed the cleared corridor toward the settlement, proof that the outside world remained connected even where the forest appeared endless. Neris sat low in the passenger seat wearing Daniel’s largest coat, a deep hood, a scarf across her muzzle, and tinted glasses that concealed the unusual size of her eyes. A folded blanket covered her tail across the footwell.
ER accompanied them through a communicator connected to an encrypted relay Daniel and Neris had installed beneath the dashboard. His core remained aboard Takuhai; without the link, the device would hold only a limited local assistant and recorded instructions.
“The vehicle produces seven vibration signatures outside its manufacturer’s intended range,” ER reported.
Daniel turned onto the main road. “It’s a farm truck.”
“That statement does not refute my analysis.”
Neris watched forest give way to cleared fields, storage sheds, scattered houses, and machinery parked for winter. The civilization was technologically young by Xianglume standards, yet the landscape had been shaped by generations of continuous intention.
“Every household maintains separate equipment,” she said.
“Mostly.”
“This appears inefficient.”
“You say that a lot.”
“Your world provides many opportunities.”
At the edge of town, traffic increased. Neris’s ears moved constantly beneath the loose hood, tracking engines, voices, doors, dogs, music, and the thin electrical whine of systems Daniel no longer noticed.
The farmers market occupied a paved square beside an old community hall. Daniel parked where Neris could see without being easily seen and lowered the window a few centimetres.
The result overwhelmed her.
Her implant could label individual sources, but classification did not reduce intensity. Human skin carried soap, wool, tobacco, cold air, illness, exertion, and food. Apples differed by variety. Bread changed scent with every stall. A generator behind the community hall produced a vibration she felt through the truck floor. Somewhere nearby, a child had spilled a sweet drink and was attempting to conceal the evidence.
Bread. Apples. Hot oil. Damp wool. Soap. Soil still clinging to root vegetables. Coffee. Hundreds of human scent signatures layered beneath cold wind and exhaust.
People greeted one another without formal identification. They exchanged food, money, information, and small complaints about weather. Children moved through the crowd with a degree of freedom that would have alarmed a shipboard safety officer. Dogs led their humans toward anything edible.
One dog stopped near the truck.
Its head lifted. Its nose worked rapidly toward the open window.
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