The Docks.

I gazed at the horizon, feeling the sea breeze in my hair, the week since I've landed seeming so much longer ago. I looked around, and nary a Ship to be seen. My only connection to the Old World, where I had come from, whose Laws and Ways I understood. Or a least thought I did. "Oi! You're that McKay feller, aren't you?" A voice called out to me.

I turned to it, and saw one of the docksmen, who was busying himself with some Rope. "I am," I replied.

"You alright there?" he asked, motioning to the waves with his head. "Not thinking of going for a swim in those, are you?"

"No, no I'm not," I answered. Seemingly satisfied with my answer, he simply shrugged and returned to his work. I would have also returned to look outwards, when a thought struck me. "How long since you've joined the commune, friend?"

"Couple of years now, I think," he sighed, setting down his Burden.

"And how do you find it here?"

"Uh... nice enough," he said, finding a Barrel to use as a seat. "I mean, honest pay for honest work. A home. Food every day. No one bothers me too much, so long as they're sober. And the uh... well you know?" he winked, and I caught his meaning.

"Yes... about that." I cleared my throat, and chose my next words with great difficulty. "How do you feel about that? About approaching any persons, and uh..." I cleared my throat again.

"Having a bit of the old hanky-panky?" he grinned, while I flummoxed. "Well, it's simple enough. Everyone here has their needs, and we do what we can for them. It's the neighborly thing to do. But, if you're asking if how one goes about it, you just have to ask them. If they're up for it, then you just nip off somewhere or don't, and if they're not, then there's always next time."

"The neighborly thing, eh?" I parroted, still finding it difficult to accept. "And you don't feel like you've all... prostituted yourselves to each other?"

"Course not!" he snapped, rather sternly. "Mr. McKay, let's get something straight. Everyone earns their way here. Farming, Fishing, Tailoring, what have you. But screwing is not one of those things. Everyone likes it, everyone does it, so there's no point in charging for it. And like I said, you don't want to do it, no one's gonna make you. Well, unless you're Olivia."

"Who is Olivia?"

He paused for a moment and a sly smile came upon his face. "She's, well, perhaps best you speak with her directly. I'm not the kind to kiss and tell, sir. She lives on the East Side. Building with the green Walls and red roof Tiles." Hopping off his Barrel, he leant down and shouldered his Rope, before walking away. "Tell her that Marvin sent you. Good-bye, Mr. McKay."

As I watched him leave, I pondered upon his view of the World, as a common Man, with common Concerns: a hot Meal, a place to call Home, a fair Wage, and a loving, or to borrow his word, neighborly Companion. No great Philosophical Plan or grandiose Notions of the World beyond his understanding. Just what must be done Today, so that he might see Tomorrow.