Page 31 of Jorhee

“I sent them to the prince this morning, but sure.”

“I haven’t checked my tablet yet,” Johree admitted sheepishly. “The whole communing with Bob thing earlier had me a bit off kilter.”

That was perfectly understandable. I was certainly still trying to wrap my head around that whole thing.

The universe is a vast and strange place. Even stranger than I ever could have imagined on my own, that’s for sure.

“There you are. While I have both of your attention, I’d like to suggest following a tradition Xeranos informed me of, one that I believe will boost community spirit.”

“And what is that?” Johree asked.

“Humans often have a morning wake up routine that includes a local personality stating the hour, sharing important local news, commenting on things to get people talking with each other, and playing music.”

“You mean a morning radio show?” I asked, chuckling.

“Yes, that. I thought if we set an official start of the day time, and an official set of business hours for non farm businesses, it will not only bring order but a sense of community."

Johree looked at me. I shrugged. “It is a thing. Our local station back home did a seven a.m. show which we listened to while starting chores since we usually got up at five, but most folks in town were only just getting up then to get ready to get their kids off to school and get to work.”

“I believe most traditional hours of work are from nine to five,” Bob stated.

“For offices and banks, yes. Shops and stuff, no. People need to be able to go to those after work.”

“Nine until seven, then,” Johere said, “as our days are twenty-six of your hours long, roughly. “School is to start at eight-thirty. When the school is built, the teacher can set play time, lunch, and letting out time, taking into account the nine to seven work day.”

“School usually lets out around three or three-thirty. Kids either go to clubs or after school childcare if someone can’t pick them up. And eight-thirty to a little after seven is far too long for kids and teachers to be working.”

He sighed. “I hadn’t considered this. I will speak with my fathers and seek their counsel.”

I nodded, knowing he would try his best to make sure only the best things were put into place for the colonists.

“What do you think?” Bob asked, and I realized then that he’d already sent me the requested document. “Sorry, I got sidetracked. I’ll take a look now.” I tapped on the icon and began to read it. The more I read, the bigger my grin got. “Um, you said Xeranos helped you with this?”

“He did. We drafted it together after he conducted very thorough research on the topic.”

I was pretty certain either Xeranos had been led astray by popular culture, or he was pranking Bob. I was going to go with the latter, as he was known to be thorough and accurate, but playful. For a hot second, I considered pointing out a few things to Bob and Johree, but then, my own inner imp got the better of me. I was going to let Johree sign these into law, knowing that any human who came across them would immediately get the secret joke and play along with it for the sheer hell of it.

“This looks really great!”

Johree leaned over and began to read. “Most of these animals have not been requested for import.”

“I thought it best to get ahead of things to smooth the way.”

“I will look at adding them to permissions before signing.”

I nodded.

“So, chicken condominiums."

“Yes!” Bob replied enthusiastically. “Each bird will have its own entrance, keyed to its DNA, with a private nesting box. The middle floor holds a large communal dust bath while the upper floor is a rainwater collection point where they can drink the water as it flows through the filtration system. There’s also a greenhouse that serves as a community garden growing fresh greens for them, and there are several roosting perches around their condominium complex grounds. There should be at least two per bird so they have a variety of choices.”

“Uh huh. I gotta admit, I think this is my favorite part and Buster is going to be especially pleased. ‘All domestic dogs shall be presumed to be Good Boys or Good Girls unless overwhelming evidence proves otherwise.’ Though I’m a bit on the fence about the ‘every obeyed command earns a treat’ thing. They’ll get fat that way.”

“Treats do not have to be food,” Bob replied reprovingly. “They can be toys, head pats, smooches, belly rubs, or taken to go play in pools or water or to roll in mud.”

I laughed. “Okay. Fair.”

“What is this Sunday dinner?” Johree asked.