James had heard little from Alicia since she moved to Bloemfontein. He used to have so many messages on his phone but now when he looked down, he saw nothing. It was not as though she stopped communicating with everybody, on his weekly phone call with his parents he heard that she was very busy.

'She joined a church there, already she is doing Sunday school and she goes out with her co-workers on Friday Nights, they all go to the golf course and have cocktails – at least that's what she told me" said her father.

"Can she even talk Afrikaans?" asked James.

"Not everybody in Bloemfontein is Afrikaans, James" chastised his mother "That's just anti-Bloemfontein propaganda, not that's there is anything wrong with Afrikaans and besides there are more Sesotho people there than Afrikaans people so keep some perspective, James."

He put the phone down and wondered why she didn't tell him how she was doing. With Alicia gone James went out less. He assumed that was a good thing, because it gave him a lot of free time to write the scripts, but he read them out alone far less often.

At least when he got criticism, he was far more certain of it being objective and not biased. The executive had been open about her opinion of how the Lesser Lord George had died.

"There's so much blood James, you know we have to work hard to make sure that we don't glorify violence. Especially with society being so tense and so many people in the street suffering from PTSD. We have to be sensitive" she said.

"Think about the children!" said James "There is nothing that they love better than the sights of brains completely uncovered. The children are the future, we need to keep them hooked."

"I did think about the children, that's why I didn't throw my toys out the cot and demand that the Lesser Lord George dies in his sleep. It's good that you knocked Milton off. We had already released him from his contract, but did you have to do it in such a final way.

"I could have just put him on a ship to the mainland," said James.

"Why do you tell me this now, that changes everything." The executive almost screamed "Next time you kill a character, please don't kill the character – and besides the audience gets emotionally attached to these people. I wouldn't want to upset them – they might stop watching and if they stop watching, advertisers may stop popping by. You can't work Nike shoes into the story line by the way –can you?"

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It was the night before Annabelle's scheduled execution. The Lowly Lady Leda came into Annabelle's cell. Annabelle's eye was drawn to how much finery surrounded the Lowly Lady.

"Nobody should spend their last night on earth alone," said the Lowly Lady Leda to Annabelle. "Tell me about your fears"

"I think that my fears are very obvious given my situation, I'm afraid of dying and I'm afraid that every person that I know and love will eventually die prematurely of either cancer or starvation due to an unjust system that oppresses them" she paused and wondered whether or not her face would have been wetter if she was talking to someone else.

"Let's not talk politics, let's rather talk about your loved ones," said the Lowly Lady Leda. "Do I know any of them"

"I very much doubt it" answered Annabelle. "I don't associate with Mamlish and you don't associate with citizens."

"That's not true. I used to be very closed to Madame Green or as we used to call her – the Lowly Lady Veronica"

"Veronica? That name doesn't suit her at all" said Annabelle.

"Oh, I disagree. Veronica suits her perfectly. She never wanted to come here, because she doesn't like marketing, all though I am sure you know that"

"We never spoke about what she hates, she only spoke about what she loves," said Annabelle.

"Oh," said the Lowly Lady Leda "That is exactly how I remember her. She hasn't changed much then. You know we grew up together on the mainland. Even though we have different overlords. Veronica was always so happy before she came here. I think that being ripped away from what she loved is what turned her so bitter".

"I never thought of her as bitter," said Annabelle.

"Oh, that's because you never met her when she was happy" replied the Lowly Lady Leda.

"Then what did she used to do before she came here," asked Annabelle.

"Why she used to play in her labs, making up concoctions," said the Lowly Lady Leda. "She used to say she was making make-up that her overlord could then sell, but half the time you were supposed to eat the mixtures. She would say nonsense like, if you eat this, then your fingernails will become strong. I had too much work to do myself, so I didn't pay too much attention to what she was doing."

"When did she come here" asked Annabelle. "And why?"

'She got into a huge fight with her overlord. She no longer wanted to work in cosmetics. She wanted to move across to medicine, but her overlord had never done work in health care. Eventually, they came to a compromise. She could come to Zilby, if she managed to sell eyeliner, and he would a turn a blind eye to the rest of her activities."

"When did she leave her overlords employ?" said Annabelle.

"Oh no, she hasn't, whatever gave you that impression!" the Lowly Lady paused to pick her hand up. "She stills submits a weekly report. Has sales figures and everything that is required from a humble servant. She passes her monthly audits with flying colours, so we know that she is not lying. She is very definitely still a loyal faithful member of the Mamlish, even if she does keep odd friends. Can't say I blame her, look at me, talking to you, I'm even enjoying myself"

**********************************************************************************

James sat in the new hall; he watched the people fill in. After realising that no new messages were going to come onto his phone now that Alicia was gone, he realised it was up to him to make new friends. He decided to try a new church.

He didn't know anybody, and nobody came and spoke to him. It wasn't that they were unfriendly it was just that they didn't know him. He was aware of the buildings ventilation system, the breeze filtered through.

It was incredibly silent inside his head, until eventually a man came up and started to speak to him. They spoke for a few minutes exchanging pleasantries.

"What is it that you do?" the man asked.

"I am a writer," said James.

"Have you published anything?" the man asked, more to push the conversation on than out of actual interest.

"I actually write for TV, but I guess you can say that I have."

"Oh well, I haven't watched TV in a few years," said the man, he had a beard, to balance the skin on top of his head, "so I wouldn't know anything about that." He thought for a few moments "Not that I can use that as a boast, as my wife says, I spend so much time watching clips on YouTube. Still, I flatter myself, watching edutainment is surely better than watching mindless shows on the television merely because they are on."

"I am afraid what I write is very much a mindless show," said James "Still it puts the bread and butter on the table so I suppose it does more good than I can reasonably expect it to."

The music started playing and the man wandered off to his own pew. James realised that he had neither celebrity nor popularity here. It changed the way that people interacted with him. He missed that.