Life as a Slave in Australia (2)
The life of an Australian slave—or rather, immigrant—was proceeding smoothly.
The week-long Daehan language course kept its students motivated with a different lunch every day: bulgogi on the first day, curry on the second, fried chicken on the third, and so on.
"So today's the last day... What a shame."
"We can just work hard and buy it ourselves from now on."
"You mean we could actually earn enough to eat this every day?"
To the students who lamented the course's end, the teachers said that if they worked hard, they could eat food like this as much as they pleased.
"What would we even gain by lying to you here?"
"Ah... I suppose those old habits haven't worn off yet."
It was hard to shake off, in just a few days, a lifetime of suspicion—the instinct to distrust everyone and guard against anyone taking what was yours.
Still, the couple was doing their best to immerse themselves in Daehan's culture. And not just the couple—everyone was. As it turned out, nothing enticed people quite like food.
"You said we start our jobs tomorrow, right?"
"Yes! Let's work hard. They said there's work for the women too."
"It's not dangerous work, is it? Monica, why don't you just stay home?"
Monica wasn't a great beauty by any stretch, but she was pretty, and that made Philip a little uneasy.
He was worried she might end up working somewhere... improper.
"Ha... Philip, please drop the suspicion. What would anyone even want with selling me off to a brothel?"
"No! That's not what I—! Hmm..."
Back when they lived in Poland, the landlord had lusted after Monica so persistently that hiding her away at home had become a way of life.
As those old memories resurfaced, anger at the hell that was Europe flared up in Philip all over again.
"Let's just work hard and earn money together. You know that chocolate they gave us as a snack? I want to buy some of that for myself, no matter what."
"Ah... as for me, alcohol..."
"Haha. Right."
In Europe, where even food was scarce, alcohol had been an extravagance beyond reach. Yet here, it was everywhere, as common as water. Whatever it was about drink that drove men mad, he was determined to try it at least once.
Talking about the things they wanted to do and the things they wanted to buy, the couple went to bed early that night.
The next morning, the city hall was packed with people—everyone there looking for work.
"Wheat farm, anyone looking for work!"
"Strawberry farm, anyone looking for work!"
"Sugarcane farm!"
"Cotton pickers wanted—women welcome too!"
Men who appeared to be farm owners stood in front of city hall holding signs with their daily wages and job descriptions written on them.
"Wow... there are so many farm jobs."
"Looks like it. Seems there's plenty of work for women too."
For jobs like harvesting fruits and vegetables or picking cotton, women were being recruited in droves. In fact, so many women were signing up that men barely had a chance.
"Honey, let's go our separate ways."
"Will you be all right?"
"Oh please? This is me you're talking about—I used to pick fruit and mushrooms in the forest all by myself!"
It was only because she'd spent so long living in fear that she seemed timid; at heart, Monica was a sturdy, plucky woman.
In the end, the two parted ways—Philip to the wheat farm, and Monica to the cotton farm.
"How far away is it?"
"Hmm... about six hours on foot?"
"Wha..."
Philip was taken aback. Then when was he supposed to work, and when was he supposed to come home?
It looked like he might not make it back tonight, which made him regret not saying a proper goodbye to Monica.
"Why the long face?"
"I didn't get to say goodbye to my wife."
"Well now. A devoted husband, are we? You'll see her at home this evening. Heh heh."
Philip had braced himself for not making it home, and now the man said he'd see her this evening? Did that mean they'd swing by the farm and then head straight back? Then when exactly was the work supposed to get done? Something didn't add up.
"I'm sorry—did you say it takes six hours?"
"Only if you're walking! Come on, hurry up—we have to catch the train."
"The what now?"
He had ridden a steamship to get here, but he'd never peeked into the engine room or anything of the sort, so Philip knew absolutely nothing about trains.
"Hm? Oh! You're a newcomer, aren't you! Haha. Well... it's a horse carriage made of iron that runs very fast."
For the sake of this new immigrant, the veteran did his best to explain in terms the man could grasp.
But there was an unreadable smile on his face—the look of a man eager to see just how shocked the newcomer would be.
"Ah! A carriage, I see."
"Yes, yes. Come along now. You're in for quite a surprise."
"Right! Let's go!"
Excitedly following his senior, Philip's face was once again lit with a smile at the thought of seeing Monica by evening.
And so they arrived at the place called a train station.
SQUEEEEEAL!
"..."
"HAHAHAHA!"
Philip's jaw hung open at the sight of the train, while his senior roared with laughter at the reaction.
"UWAH-HA!"
"Pfft-ha!"
The same scene was playing out all over the train station. And sure enough, at the cotton farm side of things, with Monica too.
"Come on, let's board."
"This thing? It actually moves?"
"Of course it does! Hurry up. Once we get there, there's plenty to do."
"Yes..."
Philip suddenly remembered that the ship he'd arrived on had belched just as much smoke. And hadn't that ship—the one he'd taken for a devil's vessel—turned out to be delivered into the hands of angels?
Swallowing his fear, he climbed aboard the iron carriage.
CLATTER-KEEEEN
"Gasp... it's really moving..."
"Don't be alarmed."
"At what?"
"It's faster than you think."
"How fast could it possibly be? A thing this big?"
Philip truly thought it would be nothing special. It was a carriage, after all—surely it would move at a walking pace?
"AAAHHH!"
"BAHAHAHA!"
He had never so much as ridden a horse, and on the ship he'd been crossing a boundless open sea where speed was hard to judge. Now the thing was moving many times faster than a man could run, and Philip felt close to fainting.
"Isn't this dangerous?!"
"Not at all! There are the occasional accidents, sure, but nobody gets seriously hurt."
"EEEK!"
"BWAAAHAHA!"
Having fallen hook, line, and sinker for the fun of teasing newcomers, Philip's senior milked the situation for all it was worth as they rode the train along.
The train's speed had apparently been such a shock to his system that by the time they reached their stop, Philip's legs were wobbling so badly he had to lean on the person beside him just to stand.
Even so, Philip merely needed support—there were others who had to be carried off entirely.
"Here we are. This is the farm where we'll be working."
"What?"
No matter where he looked, all he could see was a flat plain stretching on without end.
"Oh? I suppose they're making new farmland?"
"Hm? No, they're not. Look closely—everything planted over there is wheat."
"...What?"
Philip assumed his senior was joking and squinted, scanning the plain more carefully. And incredibly, wheat really was growing there.
GRUMMMMMBLE
Suddenly, a sound like an earthquake splitting the earth rolled across the ground.
"GAH!"
"Hm?"
"What in the world is THAT?!"
"Hm? Oh, the Gulleongsoe?"
When he spotted the Gulleongsoe churning up the earth nearby, Philip nearly fainted in earnest. From his perspective it was enormous—the size of a house—and it was belching black smoke as it flipped the soil over.
"What on earth is that thing?!"
"Why? Isn't it wonderful? Thanks to that, we don't have to break our backs plowing. Here in Daehan, they call things like that machines."
"Machines?"
At last, the word "machine" entered Philip's mind for the very first time.
"Yes. Ships, trains, and all sorts of other things—machines that do the backbreaking work people used to do."
"Good heavens..."
He felt as though he'd glimpsed a piece of Daehan's secret. Truly, this was the land of angels. In Europe, men worked themselves to death breaking the earth—but surely it was divine providence that had granted this land something to do the labor in their place.
"Machines really are a wonderful thing."
"Hm? Aren't they? That's why we get to live so comfortably here."
The water that flowed so freely in their homes, the harvesting of crops—little by little, Philip came to understand just how much easier machines made people's lives.
"Oh? Then what are we supposed to do here?"
"Huh? Didn't you read the sign? For now, our job is hauling cargo."
Even if the Gulleongsoe plowed the fields and spread fertilizer as it went, someone still had to follow the machine and keep it loaded with fertilizer. And come next spring, someone would have to gather and haul the harvested wheat. Oh—and there was the sowing of seeds, too.
And so that day, Philip learned for the first time that farming was not simply a matter of lugging around a sack over your shoulder. The aching muscles in his lower back came free of charge, but it had nonetheless been an educational day, one where he learned quite a bit about Daehan.
Trudge, trudge.
"So this is what money is."
Philip was walking home, gazing down at the five won he'd received as his day's wage. For the first time in his life, he was holding money in his hands—thin paper with a soft, rustling feel.
"So my day's worth is this?"
Even when they had farmed and paid taxes, the taxes had been paid in crops; they had survived on the cloth Monica wove all day long. Money itself had never passed through his fingers.
"Haha. Fried chicken for two won..."
Prices he'd checked on his way past the restaurants were cheaper than he'd expected. If this was the norm, then working on the farm really would mean living like a king, tearing into meat every single day.
"Oh? Honey!"
"Hm? Monica!"
On the road home, he looked up at the familiar voice and there she was. The two of them sprinted toward each other, embraced, and showered each other with questions—any bystander would have assumed they were lovers reunited after years apart.
"I got five won for my wages today! And fried chicken only costs two won!"
"What? I got five won too!"
"Gosh! It wasn't too hard, was it?"
"Hm? It was fine! All I had to do was pick these fluffy little cotton puffs."
Five won each, for men and women alike? Philip was startled—inwardly, he'd assumed Monica would only receive two or three won for being a woman.
If this was how things were, then surely as long as they worked hard, they could live in comfort and plenty, as much as they wanted?
"Shall we celebrate? Let's stop by a restaurant and pick up some fried chicken."
"Two whole ones?"
"Of course!"
It had been their first hard day's work, after all. The two returned to the restaurant and came home arm in arm, each carrying a fried chicken in hand.
Rustle... crunch, crunch.
"Ahh..."
"Fried chicken really might be the most delicious thing in existence..."
One bite of fried chicken, and all the day's hardship was forgotten—the couple's faces melted into blissful contentment.
"I love this crispy skin so much."
"And the meat—there must be some kind of seasoning on it, because it's delicious too, isn't it?"
The couple scraped at the chicken bones with such vigor that not a fleck of meat was left clinging to them, polishing them shiny and piling them up on the table.
"Ugh... I'm stuffed."
"Me too..."
Whether because the chickens were bigger than they'd thought or because their stomachs were still small, the two of them ended up leaving a little meat behind.
"Should we strip the meat off these and throw it in potato porridge tomorrow morning?"
"Oh! Great idea!"
"And we'll eat the skin now—it has to be crispy to be any good!"
"Yes!"
And so the couple sat side by side, picking the meat off the bones in happy anticipation of the next morning's breakfast.
The bones piling up before them were so gleamingly, immaculately clean that anyone would have said they could get a job at a slaughterhouse.
"Hehe. All done!"
"Right. Shall we wash up and go to bed?"
"Sounds good!"
During their Daehan language lessons, the teachers had taught them all sorts of practical wisdom—that if they wanted to avoid sickness and live long lives, they had to keep themselves clean. That was why the cities were kept so spotless, they said, and the couple had also been advised to wash up thoroughly whenever they came home from being out.
Best of all, since neither of them gave off any unpleasant odor anymore, it was doing wonderful things for their married life.
"Oh my... at this rate, we'll have a baby in no time, won't we?"
Monica, wrapped around Philip beneath the covers, spoke with a bashful smile. With them carrying on like this every night, a child seemed all but inevitable.
"Mm. I hope she's a daughter who takes after you."
"Ha... though we should really save up some money first, shouldn't we."
More than anything, Monica wanted to live in abundance. In Europe, every child born had meant one more mouth to feed and one more tax to pay—a calamity, pure and simple.
"Don't worry! I heard there's a subsidy for families once you have a child."
"Oh? Really?"
Daehan paid out birth-encouragement subsidies that grew with every child a family had. During pregnancy, a woman was paid three won a day—so even while expecting, there was still work she could do, meaning her earnings didn't take much of a hit at all.
"And it turns out there's nothing to worry about after the baby's born either. They give you something called a child-rearing allowance."
"What's that?"
"Well, apparently for every child you have—how do I put it—they pay you something like a monthly salary?"
"What an astonishing country..."
Deadly serious about growing its population, Daehan paid out subsidies equivalent to one working adult's wages to any family that had merely four children.
Perhaps that phrasing doesn't quite do it justice—anyone who bred like a beast could practically expect to be carried off on the state's shoulders in admiration.
By every measure, it was a wonderful place for people to live.