Still in pain. Managed to walk over to the cabinet and inject myself with some muscle and pain killers. Stiff as hell but will live, unfortunately.
I programed the computers to identify the villages’ voice signatures.
It’s a security protocol. If one of them gets inside and stabs me in the back or steal my stash, the Company will know who to look for.
I went through the motions of cheeking my supplies. Nothing is missing but I intend to make this a habit.
I have decided to call the labour droids Laurel and Hardy. I would have like to have gone with Larry, Moe, and Curly, but those bastards only left me two droids. I get the IT boys over at the Company to get the programing done.
I have watched too many films where the sane doctor is left alone and ends up going insane because he has no one to talk to. I do not want to be a stereotype.
The greenhouse has been finished since last night with Hardy doing the work of five men. I keep Laurel on washing duty, the old women think he is a God send, especially as he knows how to put his back into it.
Neeti is as pleased as ever. Her husband and his second wife are stumbling around. But I have this feeling that she was putting on a smile.
The other Satyr female is nice enough, though I get the feeling that she and Neeti don’t get along. The famer on the other hand, gives me a look like I just took a shit in his shoe.
I leave Hardy at the farm. Animals don’t like droids but he does the work. Meanwhile I try to give the Satyrs a check over but Farmer John doesn’t like me loitering around or so much as glancing at his wives.
The other farms were in better or worse states. Their isolation and own water supplies kept them from the worst of the cholera. I did treat the usual cases as best I could.
Most of what I ran into was infected cuts, tetanus, spider and animal bites. I did see signs of a tumour in one patient but he said that he didn’t want an outsider’s help.
So screw him.
I gave each a two day supply package which included food and blankets.
They in turn gave me their shit stained laundry, apparently Laurel’s dry cleaning service had been a popular subject. How it reached the ears of the satyrs out in these parts in the midst of winter I don’t know.
Town’s folk talk, I guess.
I arrived back in the village, hungry and smelling of other people’s shit. I hand Laurel the dirty washing. He tells me that he could perform better if he had some soap. He also said he could make it using the lab.
I am about to tell him where he can stick his suggestion but stop.
The people here can barely bath right now.
The people get clean here one of two ways. They take a swim in a lake, which is nearly iced over and is hardly hygienic; or they break their backs melting snow and rain water on a wood fire which is nearly freezing by the time the guy has stripped.
Laurel also tells me he has the schematics for a primitive washing machine that he can hook up to the generator. I tell him that he is the washing machine.
In other news the female Satyrs ended up converting a store house into a drying area for all the laundry Laurel was making.
I wonder how much laundry these pricks have then I see a man come out of a house that had belonged to the late blacksmith.
I think the scavengers of the village have raided their dead neighbours’ houses in search for valuables. It being winter, clothes were one of the top items.
It is good to see a community get together and steal their dead friends’ things. It fills me with pride.