Chapter 12: GROWING PAINS
I woke to shouting.
Not unusual anymore—seventeen people in close quarters meant tension. But this was different. Angrier.
I pulled on my jacket and ran to the main hall. Two people were yelling at each other. Jason—the feathered kid—and one of the new arrivals from James's group. Peter, the weak telekinetic.
"—not your sleeping space!"
"It was empty!"
"Because I was in the bathroom! You can't just take someone's spot!"
Ruth was already there, trying to separate them. Miles stood nearby, ready to intervene if it got physical.
"Enough," I said. My voice carried. Everyone stopped.
Both boys looked at me. Jason was sixteen. Peter was maybe twenty. Both were exhausted, underfed, stressed. Both had legitimate grievances about illegitimate problems.
"Jason, is that your assigned space?"
"Yes. I've slept there for three days."
"Peter, did you know it was assigned?"
"No. I just saw an empty cot. I thought—I'm tired. I just wanted to sleep."
Of course he didn't know. Because we'd grown too fast. Because I hadn't established clear rules. Because everything was improvised and chaotic and barely functional.
"Peter gets today," I said. "Jason, you take the spot by the east wall. Tomorrow we're painting numbers on the cots. Everyone gets assigned sleeping space. No more confusion."
"That's not fair," Jason started.
"Fair is everyone having a place," I said. "Fair is rules that work. This is temporary. Deal with it."
Both boys grumbled but separated. Crisis averted. For now.
Ruth followed me outside. "We're at capacity. Maybe past it."
"I know."
"Main hall holds maybe twenty people comfortably. We've got seventeen. That's three away from chaos."
"I know."
"And word's still spreading. More will come."
"I know that too."
"So what's the plan?"
I didn't have one. Not really. We were making this up as we went, reacting to problems instead of anticipating them.
"We need structure," I said. "Formal organization. Clear roles, clear rules, clear expectations. Right now it's just me giving orders and hoping people listen."
"You want a government."
"I want a system that works when I'm not personally managing every decision."
Ruth leaned against the wall. "Okay. What does that look like?"
I'd been thinking about this. In my old life—my real life, before the car accident—I'd managed teams. Built organizational structures. This was the same principle, larger scale.
"We assign roles based on capability. You're already handling security—formalize it. Miles is medical—make it official. Danny manages power generation and heat. Sofia handles communications and her telepathy makes her perfect for coordination. Tom scouts. We make these positions real, give them authority over their domains."
"And you?"
"Overall leadership. Final decisions. Coordination between departments."
"Departments. We're seventeen people and you're creating departments."
"We won't stay seventeen people. We'll be twenty soon. Thirty. More. Better to build structure now than try to impose it later."
She considered. "The newer people won't like taking orders from anyone who's not you. They don't know us yet."
"Then we build trust. Prove competence. Show that the structure works."
"And if someone challenges it?"
"We deal with it. Give them the choice—follow the structure or leave. No middle ground."
Ruth nodded slowly. "Alright. I'm in. But you're the one selling this to everyone."
That afternoon, I called a meeting. All seventeen people. They gathered with varying levels of enthusiasm—some eager, some resentful, most just tired and waiting to see what new problem needed solving.
"We need organization," I said. Direct. No preamble. "Seventeen people means we can't operate on informal arrangements anymore. We need clear roles, clear responsibilities, clear leadership structure."
Silence. Then the same young man from before—I'd learned his name was Derek—spoke up. "Who made you king?"
I'd expected this. "No one. I built this place. I claimed the territory. I established the initial structure. That gives me authority by default. But I'm not a dictator. You're free to leave anytime. You're also free to stay and help build something that works. Your choice."
"What if we want a say in leadership?"
"Then prove you can lead. Take responsibility for something. Show you can make it work. Earn trust. Then we'll talk about shared leadership. But right now, we need someone making decisions. That's me."
Derek didn't look happy but sat down. Others were watching, judging.
"Here's the structure," I continued. "Ruth Torres is Head of Security. Anything related to safety, defense, or dealing with threats—she has authority. Miles Webb is Head of Medical. Health issues, injuries, basic care—he decides. Danny Chen manages Power and Heat generation. Sofia Reyes handles Communications and Coordination. Tom Bradley is Chief Scout. Each of these people has authority in their domain. You report to them, they report to me, decisions get made efficiently."
"What about the rest of us?" Marissa asked.
"You have roles too. James, your strength makes you perfect for heavy construction—you'll work with Ruth on building projects. Eva, your reflexes make you an excellent scout—you'll work with Tom. Peter, your telekinesis might be weak but it's useful—general labor, moving supplies. Everyone has a place. Everyone contributes."
I looked around the room. "We're building a nation here. Nations need structure. Need rules. Need people who know what they're supposed to do. This is that structure. Questions?"
Keiko raised her hand—the girl with four eyes. "What happens if we disagree with a decision?"
Good question. "You can appeal to me. I'll listen. If you have a better idea, I'll consider it. But final call is mine. That's how this works."
"For how long?"
"Until we're stable enough for democratic process. Could be months. Could be years. But right now, we need fast decisions, not committee meetings."
Jason—the feathered kid—spoke up. "Do we get to vote on rules at least?"
I paused. That was fair. "Yes. I'll draft basic rules. We'll vote on them as a group. Majority rules. But enforcement is non-negotiable. If you vote for a rule, you follow it."
Murmurs around the room. Not full acceptance, but not rebellion either. Progress.
The meeting broke up. People dispersed to their new roles. Ruth started assigning security patrols. Miles organized a medical inventory. Danny checked our fuel supplies.
I found a corner and started writing. New Haven's first formal rules. Keep them simple:
Everyone contributes. No one rides free.Violence against community members prohibited.Theft prohibited.Resources are shared equally.Assigned roles must be fulfilled.Disputes resolved by leadership.New arrivals subject to probationary period.Leaving is permitted anytime—no one is prisoner.
Basic. Flexible. Room to adjust. But concrete enough to enforce.
I was halfway through when Sofia found me. "We have a problem."
"Another one?"
"Six more people just arrived. They're at the perimeter. Tom's watching them. They look—Marcus, they look bad. Really bad."
Six more. We were at seventeen. That would make twenty-three.
Twenty-three people.
I'd estimated we could support twenty comfortably. Twenty-three was stretching it. And if word kept spreading—
"Tell Tom to bring them in," I said. "We'll make room."
"We're already past capacity."
"Then we'll expand capacity. What else can we do—turn them away?"
Sofia looked at me with those exhausted brown eyes. "You know we can't sustain this growth rate."
"I know. But I also can't turn away people who need help. We figure it out. We always do."
She left. I sat there with my half-written rules and did math I didn't want to do.
Twenty-three people. One week of food with rationing. Three weeks until harvest, maybe. No way to feed everyone adequately in the meantime.
We needed more supplies. Faster. But our cash was gone. Hendricks's trash wouldn't feed twenty-three people.
I needed a solution. Fast.
The System pulsed.
[POPULATION SURGE DETECTED]
[CURRENT: 17]
[PROJECTED: 23]
[WARNING: CRITICAL RESOURCE THRESHOLD APPROACHING]
[RECOMMENDATION: IMPLEMENT POPULATION CONTROLS]
[RECOMMENDATION: EXPAND RESOURCE BASE]
[RECOMMENDATION: ESTABLISH TRADE NETWORK]
I can't control who comes here. And I won't turn them away.
[THEN EXPAND FASTER THAN POPULATION GROWS]
[OR PREPARE FOR FAILURE]
The System was blunt. But right.
We needed to build faster. Hunt more. Trade more. Grow more. Stay ahead of the curve or get crushed by it.
That evening, the six new arrivals sat in the main hall eating our carefully rationed dinner. They looked like death. Two were older—fifties, sixties. Three were young adults. One was a child. Maybe twelve.
A child. We had a child now. That changed things. Adults could make hard choices. Children just suffered.
Ruth found me watching them. "Twenty-three. We're at twenty-three."
"Yeah."
"Your rules ready?"
I handed her the paper. She read through. Nodded. "Simple. Good. When do we vote?"
"Tomorrow. After everyone's settled. After they've eaten and rested. Then we formalize this."
"And if they vote no?"
"They won't. Because the alternative is chaos, and even strangers can see we need structure."
She handed back the paper. "Fourteen days. That's what's left on my deadline."
"I remember."
"We've grown from six to twenty-three. Built infrastructure. Established roles. Created rules." She paused. "You're doing it. Actually building something. I didn't think—" She stopped.
"Didn't think what?"
"Didn't think you'd make it this far. Thought you were a well-meaning human with a dream too big. But you're actually pulling it off."
"It's barely functional. We're one crisis from collapse."
"That's true of every new settlement. But you're building. That's more than most people do."
She walked away. I sat there with my rules and my rapidly growing population and my dwindling resources.
Twenty-three people. In three weeks, we'd grown from six to twenty-three. At this rate, we'd be fifty by summer. A hundred by fall.
Can't think that far ahead. Focus on tomorrow. Feed twenty-three people tomorrow. Then the day after. Then the day after that.
Danny approached, fire dancing between his fingers—better control every day. "Marcus. The kid. The new one. She's scared. Won't eat. Just sits there shaking."
"Where are her parents?"
"Dead. She said they died in an attack. Anti-mutant mob. She's been alone for weeks."
A twelve-year-old orphan. Surviving alone. Coming here because someone told her about a place where mutants were safe.
We have to be that place. We have to be worth the journey.
"I'll talk to her," I said. "What's her name?"
"Emma. She wouldn't say more than that."
I found Emma in the corner, hugging her knees. Small. Dirty. Terrified.
I sat down nearby. Not too close—didn't want to scare her more.
"Hi Emma. I'm Marcus."
She didn't respond.
"You're safe here. I know that's hard to believe. But it's true. No one's going to hurt you. You can stay as long as you want. We have food and water and a place to sleep."
Still nothing.
"What's your power?" I asked gently.
She whispered something. I leaned closer.
"Shields," she said. "I can make shields. Little ones. Not strong. But I thought—I thought maybe they'd want me if I could protect people."
A child offering her power because she thought that's the price of safety.
This is what the world did to her. Made her think she had to earn basic compassion.
"Emma, listen to me. You don't have to earn anything. You're twelve. You're a kid. You deserve safety just for existing. Your power doesn't matter. You matter."
She looked at me with eyes too old for her face. "That's not true. Powers are all that matter."
"Not here. Here, you matter first. Power second. You're part of the community now. We take care of each other."
She didn't believe me. But she stopped shaking. Started eating. Small bites, but eating.
That night, I added an addendum to the rules:
Children receive special protection—never placed in danger.
Twenty-three people slept in the main hall. Crowded. Uncomfortable. But together. Safe.
I lay awake doing math. Food for twenty-three. Space for twenty-three. Work for twenty-three. Every problem multiplied by the population.
But also: hands to work. Powers to use. Minds to contribute. Every solution multiplied too.
Build faster. Always faster. Stay ahead of the need.
The System pulsed acknowledgment.
[POPULATION: 23]
[NATION TIER: 1 (SETTLEMENT - GROWING)]
[NEW MILESTONE APPROACHING: 25 CITIZENS]
[REWARD: UNLOCK ADVANCED CONSTRUCTION, +1 BOND SLOT]
Two more people. We needed two more and I'd hit the next milestone. The System would give me better building options. Another bond slot.
But two more people also meant two more mouths. Two more problems.
That's tomorrow's worry. Tonight, we have twenty-three people alive. That's enough.
I closed my eyes. Tomorrow I'd present the rules. Tomorrow we'd vote. Tomorrow we'd formalize New Haven as more than just a group of refugees.
Tomorrow we'd become something real.
Outside, the river whispered. Inside, twenty-three people breathed.
New Haven. Growing too fast. Barely holding together.
But still breathing.
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