If these people think they don’t need our factory, it’s because they’re too miserable and dirt poor to know any better.” “Selling toothpick birdhouses at the farmers market isn’t a job, it’s a hobby. “The economy of Aktoo Village is sustained by local handcrafted goods, and I think that skewed the data of the unemployment rates we looked at.” “The easy answer is the folks here don’t need a factory,” Luke replied. “Why, exactly, aren’t you on board with the plan anymore?” He decided against asking about Luke’s attire because quite frankly he didn’t want to know. “So, walk me through what happened,” Poe said, edging his chair a little faster now that he knew its all-terrain tires could handle the snow. Poe noted with a level of disconcertment that Luke had on a new leather backpack with little trees stitched along its edges. “Right, sorry.” Luke grabbed Poe’s modest suitcase from the driver, then jogged past Poe so he could walk in front of him on the narrow strip of walkway and lead him into town. “Long and miserable.” Poe shifted the control stick on his wheelchair’s armrest, manoeuvering himself along the bus stop’s sidewalk, which was in desperate need of shovelling. “Hey, gramps,” Luke greeted hesitantly, waving a mittened hand. Poe inhaled sharp cold air, then let it out in a long, beleaguered sigh. When Poe Carder rolled off the ramp of the charter bus kindly provided by the Botopia Labs corporation, his eyes were immediately assaulted by two things: a sea of sheer white snow, and his grandson standing up to his knees in it wearing a wreath of holly on his head and the most garish holiday sweater imaginable. Stats: Published: Completed: Words: 114,903 Chapters: 16/16 Comments: 51 Kudos: 54 Bookmarks: 7 Hits: 1,027
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