text: Malcolm continued to keep me under a close watch the next day. As soon as I woke the next morning he greeted me with a hearty breakfast and a fully-planned itinerary. My every moment was guided by him. We spent much of our time down by the harbor. The bustling crowds there allowed Malcolm to more regularly stop and talk to acquaintances, and introduce his strange find. However, I watched as best as I could, the blue-clothed workers going about their day. I watched their arduous labor, their quiet movements, their rare, almost non-existent interactions with the other citizens. It was as if the two lived in separate worlds, ghosts to each other. Only once did I see one of the citizens give the blue-clothed workers any extended attention. An old lady watched a young male worker intently. She never spoke to him, just stood some ten meters off, watching his movements. I had no idea what her motive was. Her face seemed so calm, so neutral, I could read no emotion in it. The blue-clothed worker, for his part, never seemed to notice she was there. I was only able to observe her for a few minutes before Malcolm ripped me away. “Steven,” he called out, before dragging me over to a middle-aged man, with a long and pointed brown beard. Malcolm introduced us, gave my backstory, painting the picture of my oddity. “This is Steven Donsbach, one of the leaders of the island,” he said. My attention was caught hearing the title. It was an opportunity to learn more, to get a different viewpoint from someone higher up. However, it wasn’t to be. Every attempt to join the conversation, Malcolm interrupted. He filled the silence with chatter, made sure my only sentences were responses to direct questions. I wasn’t to ask any awkward questions. I was to be an amusement. Nothing more. I only had two days left on the island and I was running out of time to learn anything more. However, I awoke with optimism on the third day. Today was one of the two days when Malcolm had to work. I got dressed and ready to leave as soon as I could. But as I walked through to the kitchen, I was greeted by Tamsyn, waiting for me. She had already poured me a cup of coffee and pushed it across the table towards me. I sat down, prepared to drink another cup of the bitter black liquid. Tamsyn took a large sip from her own drink, before speaking. “Dad is at work today. He asked me to keep an eye on you for the day.” I did my best to appear upbeat. “Oh, what do you have planned?” She smirked. “I’m fairly certain my dad would like me to take you on a long walk around the island, show you a few of the smaller villages on the west side. However, I think you’re probably old enough to handle yourself.” I instinctively let out a small chuckle. “I appreciate the faith.” She looked around the room for a few seconds, pausing before speaking. “I know you wanted to talk to the blues.” “Yes.” She paused again before the smirk returned. “If dad asks, you looked at some old stone ruins on the west coast, okay?” I nodded in agreement. “I’ll tell you where they live. You can go to their settlement.” I had no idea why Tamsyn was willing to go her against her father’s wishes. But I didn’t question, I simply listened to her detailed directions. “If my dad finds out I told you where to go, he will not be pleased,” she said. “You have my word,” I replied. I once more let out a flurry of thankyous, probably a few too many, before heading outside as quickly as I could. It was about a two-hour walk to the settlement. I climbed up a steep hill away from the main town by the harbor. At the top of the hill I met a fork in the path. Straight ahead the path continued along the top of the hill. The path to the right, the one I was meant to take, descended steeply and sharply towards the sea. The path was a series of natural steps worn into the hillside from many years of foot traffic. Rocks and tufts of grass stuck out awkwardly from the brown dust path. I began my slow descent of the uneven and difficult path. It didn’t take long until I could see a series of large brick buildings nestled by the edge of a cliff. The buildings were low to the ground, with flat sheet metal roofs. They were thin, probably some ten metres across. But each was incredibly long, stretching out at least seventy to eighty metres. I could see a few people walking between the buildings, each wearing the light blue clothes that marked their fate in life. Most stopped what they were doing and turned to take in the sight of a stranger walking towards their homes. Others dashed inside as quickly as they could. As I reached the settlement I greeted the first person I met, a thin, but very tall man with disappearing brown hair. “Hello, how are you?” I tried to greet him. He seemed confused, looking around himself, hoping someone else might respond on his behalf. Coming up with nothing he merely stood in silence, staring at my chest. “It’s okay,” I said, walking slowly towards him. “I’m not a citizen. I don’t live here. You don’t serve me.” Puzzlement appeared on the man's face. Several times he seemed to go to speak, his mouth opening before clamping shut again. Finally, he spoke. “If you are not from the Bluekira Ministrations, then why are you here?” I explained to him, as I had to Malcolm, my plans to travel the islands, and my quest to learn more about the archipelago. I had somewhat assumed that Malcolm’s reaction to my story would be the default here. And I said the story expecting a sort of merry, but well-meaning mocking. But instead, there was no laughter from the man, no enthusiastic curiosity. He seemed to just accept the information and move on. “What do you want to see?” he asked. \ I asked if he would show me around the settlement. He obliged. I quickly learned, as obvious as it was, that almost all the inhabitants were away, off working their long, toiling days. Only those who worked odd hours were here. The man introduced himself by the name of Wyatt, and we began a slow meander around the outside of some of the buildings. Their concrete foundations sat a foot above the ground and formed the only bit of smooth land in the settlement. The brick was cheap and chipped in many places. Cement had been swathed on carelessly, leaving thick gray globules hanging to the side of the building. Wyatt led me inside. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. While various spotlights of sunshine managed to make their way inside through the shutters, for the most part, the building was dingy and dark. For the entire stretch of the building, there seemed to be two rows of thin - very-thin - mattresses against each of the walls. Next to each one were some personal effects. Often, just consisted of a small pile of clothes, perhaps a cup of water, and very occasionally a tattered book. In some ways, it was nicer than the prison where I had been kept on Kadear Coalfields. After all, they did have at least something resembling a mattress to sleep on here. But any slight comfort was overshadowed by the scale. This room housed a little over a hundred people every night. And this building was one of many along this thin bit of cliff, tucked away out of sight of the citizens. It was strange to see the building so empty. At night, the whole room must have been filled with voices and baked with the heat of a hundred working bodies. But currently, it felt cold, and the walls seemed to breathe an icy touch. “It’s hard to imagine so many people all having to sleep in the same room,” I said. Wyatt nodded in acknowledgment. “It makes it difficult to sleep. Especially with the noise.” “The noise?” I asked. “Snorers. They aren’t very popular,” he laughed the meekest of chuckles. “It can’t be an easy life to lead,” I remarked. “In some ways,” he shrugged. “But, it could always be worse. At least every day I get to leave, see some other part of the island.” “Some don’t?” He turned and began heading back outside as he spoke. “A handful of people look after this place. Cook, clean, mend anything that’s broken. They never get to leave here. They work here, they sleep here.” “You mean, there are a few people here who have never left this place?” “They’ll have left at some point, sure. But most won’t have been away more than once or twice in their lives.” I didn’t want to seem voyeuristic. But this premise offered another viewpoint I was keen to explore. “Would you be able to introduce me?” I asked. Wyatt scrunched his face in uncertainty. “They may not like being interrupted while they are at work.” He led me back through the settlement while he thought on it. “I need to head to work soon. I’ll take you to them before I leave.” I thanked Wyatt for his help and apologized for taking up what little time he had. He said he was happy to help, although I suspected, in reality, he had felt obligated. A lifetime of being trained to say 'yes' was not easily shaken. We walked towards the entrance of the settlement until we reached another building, near-identical to the others. Only stopping by it did I notice the difference, a small metal chimney rising from the roof on the far end, steam gently wafting from it. “This is the common space. Where we meet for dinners,” Wyatt said. “I have to head. But Perdita should be in the back there.” I thanked Wyatt once more and offered my hand to shake it. He seemed taken back by the prospect. He looked at my extended limb for a few seconds, before simply nodding, turning, and heading the other way. Inside the building, the large main hall was empty. But there was a wall about three-quarters of the way along the building, with a small doorway built into the brickwork. I could hear movement from the other side; the sound of ill-fitting sandals slapping against the concrete floor, the scraping of a wire brush, and the clanging of metal trays landing on top of each other. I walked towards the sound as I began to smell the aroma of food. It smelt edible, but not exactly pleasant. A smell of meat that was just at the point of turning rotten, weak vegetables, and boiling water. I walked into the kitchen to find a woman with her back turned to me. She had long brown hair reaching down to her waist left in a tangled-free flowing mess. She was, of course, wearing blue. The woman turned, and my whole body skipped a beat. It was Tamsyn. Tamsyn, but now dressed in the blue garments. “Can I help you?” she asked. “Tamsyn,” I cried. “What are you doing here?” “I’m sorry,” she replied in confusion. “It’s just me,” I replied, turning sideways so she could see behind me into the hall. “Is there something you need?” she said in a polite tone that masked both confusion and concern. Suddenly I noticed the small differences. Tamsyn was fair, but now her skin was as pale as milk. Her eyes were a tiny bit more arched than they had been. And she now had a small, but noticeable, mole on her left cheek. “Hello, sorry, I’m Ferdinand” I said, trying to start again. “I’m Perdita,” she replied, her eyes fixed to my chest. “Is there something I can help you with?” I looked at her face once more. I tried studying the lines and curves of her jaw, the distance between the eyes, the width of the nose. Everything was Tamsyn’s and yet... not. So similar, and yet just with the tiniest distinctions. There was only one answer. Tamsyn, had a twin.