Pierre was working shirtless under scorching sun in a field large enough, it seemed, to feed all of Saint-Pabu for a few weeks.
The work was tough, both physically and mentally.
Fuck!
Pierre took another break and painfully straightened up. His back was hurting, his legs were heavy, and his hands trembled from being overworked.
Since he started this new job, light-years away from his old one, there hadn't been a single day where he didn't hurt somewhere.
He got sunburnt, hurt his back from overexertion, jammed his fingers, and got more blisters than in his entire life. His hands were currently in a sorry state. He had put bandages on them for protection, but they hadn't been enough. His blisters had burst, and he was bleeding.
Damn it! Shit! I shouldn't have come! I shouldn't have left Paris! I'd rather die than slave away like this!
The former trader angrily and sadly looked at his hands accustomed to office work. In another era, they would have told him he had princess hands to make him understand that he had never worked a day in his life.
If-if only I could turn back time... No, if I could prevent this damn blackout... Ah, it hurts!
The novice farmer then saw a imposing man holding on his shoulder a tool similar to his whose main function was to turn the soil. It was the owner of this field. Technically, this made that man his boss.
"You alright?" he simply asked, raising his cap a bit.
"Yeah. My bandages didn't hold," Pierre replied, trying in vain to readjust his bandages.
"You're sweating too much. They won't stick. With this heat, it was bound to happen. Go disinfect your hands and put on some bandages. There's a roll in the first-aid kit."
Pierre nodded and left his tool there.
The farmer, Jean Morvan, shook his head with a hint of disappointment. He had been promised help, and he got it. It was this cold and silent man, a city dweller through and through. It only took a few minutes for him to form an opinion about his new employee.
He took breaks very regularly because he was in pain, he clumsily used his tools, some of which he didn't even know the name or use of, and he spoke so little that he found him awkward.
He never knew what he was really thinking. Surely he was complaining and thinking back to his life before the blackout. From what he knew about him, he was from Paris. He was really a city man.
He assumed he had never worked in a field, even for a seasonal job. Jean didn't have a very high opinion of this man, but he had kept it to himself for fear of seeing him leave.
Even if he was very inefficient, his help was precious. Since the machines had stopped working, he was forced to use his arms like never before to perform the most basic tasks. Everything took infinitely longer. With the help of machines, he could take care of all his land, even if it meant not counting his hours. Now, by providing more efforts, he couldn't even cultivate a quarter of his land.
He wasn't alone in mourning. All the farmers were in the same boat. Madame Le Gall had assigned personnel to each field. Former bank employees, supermarket employees, mechanics, all those who had lost their jobs because of the blackout had become farmers. Some had become fishermen, but they were not the majority. Yet, it was mainly thanks to them that the people of Saint-Pabu were surviving.
What was planted in the fields had to grow and mature before being harvested. It took time, but the men and women who lived in this peaceful town needed to eat every day! So everyone relied on these budding fishermen to bring back some fresh food.
Despite their efforts, hunger reigned supreme. Everyone limited themselves and had to work on an empty stomach. They ate grass, roots, wild fruits, and drank fresh cow's milk. It was fortunate that Brittany was an important cattle farming area, otherwise the situation would have been dramatic. There were enough animals in the region for everyone to drink a bowl of milk every day. In these difficult times, it was a rare pleasure.
Pierre was in Jean Morvan's farm, consisting of a set of buildings solely dedicated to the cultivation of his land. One of these buildings served as a storage place for vehicles, all of which had been out of order for a month now. It was in this building that he found a first-aid kit containing bandages, disinfectant, and other items.
Upon opening it, he noticed a small circular mirror. He grimaced at the reflected image.
His hair was messy, his face was as red as a tomato and covered in dirt, and he displayed deep circles under his eyes. Despite a sufficient number of hours of sleep, he was always exhausted. The energy spent during the day far exceeded what he could recover in one night. I need a day off. A vacation.
Damn, I want a vacation!
Usually, at this time of the year, he would leave Paris to enjoy the warmth and good weather, most often on the coast. Southern France was his favorite destination, but since he was earning a good living as a trader, he had visited many regions of the world. He had been to Spain, Italy, Portugal, Greece, and Sicily. He had hiked in the Moroccan desert, admired the greatest pyramids of Egypt, been enchanted by the charms of Venice, and tasted the most exotic dishes of Thailand.
Normally, he should be in Japan eating sushi at a master's place and visiting Osaka Castle. Everything had been planned.
But I'm here, ruining my health, just to have something to eat.
Pierre took advantage of being in front of a mirror to look at his teeth. For a few days now, they had been hurting, but he hadn't been able to see the cause of his pain. He suspected it was a cavity, but he didn't know how damaged his tooth was. Seeing nothing suspicious in his reflection, he returned to Jean's field and decided to see a dentist later.
There was only one dentist in Saint-Pabu. His office was not far from the town hall.
Upon entering the building, which looked like an ordinary house, he met a girl who must have been sixteen or seventeen years old. She was as beautiful as a ray of sunshine and had gorgeous golden hair.
Their gazes met for a fraction of a second, and he seemed to see a slight smile on her face, which still retained its childish features. It was only her face, because in reality everything else about this young lady was developed.
I must be imagining things. Well, I hope the dentist can see me.
He knocked on a dark wooden door and entered what looked like a waiting room.
A man of about fifty, rather handsome and exuding an air of seriousness, was there, writing a few words in a notebook.
Pierre waited silently until the man finished, which was appreciated.
"Hello," he finally said when he was done. "Can I help you?"
"Hello, sir. I hope so. I've had a toothache for a few days. The pain is on the right, up."
"Hmm," he said, bypassing his desk where a non-functioning computer was placed. "Let's see. Is it towards the back?"
"I think so? I'm not sure."
I don't know which tooth it is. It hurts on several teeth. I hope I don't have multiple cavities.
"Follow me," the dentist said, pointing to another room illuminated only by daylight passing through a large window whose curtains had been drawn aside. "Have a seat."
"Thank you."
The man put a surgical mask on his mouth and slipped on a pair of white latex gloves.
This sight did not reassure Pierre, although he had been an adult for over ten years. For some reason, he had never liked dentists. This didn't mean he didn't recognize their usefulness, quite the contrary. The proof was that he was very happy that there was a dentist in Saint-Pabu despite the size of this town and that it was still open after this damn blackout.
"Open your mouth wide, a bit more. Let's see. Oh, I don't have enough light. Tilt your head up a bit, there you go. Ah, yes, I see it. It's a nice cavity, indeed."
I knew it.
"Oh, it's quite deep. I feel like the nerve is affected. It must really hurt."
The dentist removed his tool, which was actually just a small mirror on the end of a stick. "I have some bad news, though. Most of my tools run on electricity. Normally, I would have cleaned your tooth before devitalizing it and then put an amalgam to fill the hole. Without my tools, I can't do anything."
"What do you suggest? We can't leave the cavity like this, can we?"
"If I leave it, it will continue to dig into the tooth, which will hurt you a lot, and it could spread to other teeth. It's quite annoying to say, but I think it will have to be extracted."
Extracted ?!
Pierre's face turned white. He hadn't felt this bad in a long time. Yet he had gone through many trials. He had even killed someone!
"I understand that you're hesitant, sir, but I think it's necessary. Unfortunately, you're not the first to pass through my hands since the blackout. I can hardly work anymore, and soon I won't have any anesthetic left. If I were you, I wouldn't postpone the operation. When I run out of product, we'll have to do without."
"I... I understand. Do it."
The dentist nodded and invited Pierre to settle comfortably. He couldn't help but notice that his patient was clutching the armrests of his chair like a shipwreck survivor to a lifebuoy.
"I'm going to numb you now. It will take effect quickly."
When he emerged from the dental office, he ran his tongue where his molar had been. Now, there was only a hole, which was extremely disturbing.
My jaw hurts. And my tongue is numb. Damn it!
The dentist had shown him his tooth at his request. Indeed, there was a big hole there. Almost a third of his tooth was missing. It made you wonder how he hadn't seen anything in the mirror.
I hope I never have cavities again! I don't want to lose any more teeth!