“One thing you’ve done is quite remarkable,” said Ram Odin. “You got to the heart of the matter. The woman is going to feel remorseful for having made the overseer weep. It’s obvious she only complained about his rudeness because the factory is falling apart and she only has a right to complain about how he treats her.”
“I know that,” said Rigg. “This is a terrible system, you know?”
“Because in Ramfold, free workers and free managers are never in a situation where the employees are terrified to complain to the owner about how the manager is doing his job?”
Rigg rolled his eyes. “That’s different.”
“It’s the same,” said Ram Odin, “under different names. They are both owned by the same master. In Ramfold, they would both work for the same employer. But both would be terrified of losing their position.”
“In Ramfold, the owner of the factory can’t divorce a man from his wife because he complains about her snoring.”
“But in Ramfold,” Ram Odin said mildly, “the owner would demand that he explain why he’s sleeping during the hours he’s paying him to work. If he doesn’t fire him out of hand, he’ll demand that the manager find a way to sleep or quit his job. So the manager is right where this overseer is—does he act to protect his wife from her apnea? What good will it do her if he loses his position and can’t get a good recommendation? They’ll lose everything. Out on the street. Disaster. In all likelihood, reduced to poverty and—”
“I get the point. But it still doesn’t help me figure out what to do.”
“I think you should let me sit with the wife tonight. Let him sleep in my quarters. I’ll have the ship listen to her breathing and evaluate her medically and tell me whether the apnea is life-threatening.”
Rigg looked at him uncomprehendingly.
“Apnea. Stopping breathing from time to time. It affects a lot of people but very, very few die of it. If we can tell him that she’s not going to die, he can go sleep in the children’s room.”
“Oh,” said Rigg.
“And if she really is in danger, then we tell the owner that the overseer is torn between protecting his property—the wife—and managing the factory.”
“The owner will still make them divorce,” said Rigg.
“Not if you forbid him to do that,” said Ram Odin. “Remember, the owner is also a slave, and his owner is owned by someone who is owned by the Lord of Walls.”
“I really hate Gathuurifold.”
“No, you’re just barely coming to understand it, that’s all. You’ll find that people are still people and find a way to carve out a life for themselves within whatever rules their culture imposes on them. This master’s rules about marriage are actually derived from his religion—the ship was telling me this while you were listening to the overseer. It’s a very practical religion, not a lot of ritual but plenty of rules of life and most of them make sense. But as with all rule sets, there are unintended consequences. Like the women who have six babies so they don’t have to leave their husbands.”
“You’re saying that the whole wallfold doesn’t have that rule.”
“Most people who practice the religion don’t actually follow that rule. My guess is that rather than obey you about not forcing a divorce on them, the owner will sell the factory to someone else.”
“Come on,” said Rigg. “Sell a factory because your overseer’s wife snores and the Wallman said you couldn’t split them up?”
“Remember that the factory’s in a bit of a mess. Broken equipment. Badly managed.”
“So the new owner will get rid of the overseer.”
“Probably sell him,” said Ram Odin. “He shouldn’t be in this line of work anyway. He’s a terrible manager.”
“Only because he doesn’t sleep at night!”
“Oh, Rigg, please. It would take him ten minutes to listen to the woman’s complaint and send for the repairman. He hates his job. Probably never asked for it. So yes, he’s desperate for sleep, but he’s also desperate not to do his job.”
“How do you know that?” asked Rigg.
“Experience, my lad,” said Ram Odin. “I’ve known plenty of managers like that. They hate their job, they hate their lives. If I owned the man, I’d make some effort to find out what he actually likes to do, and then find a way to let him earn his keep by doing it. But then, I’m probably too soft to be a really effective slaveowner.”
“You? Soft?” Rigg shook his head. “I know you better than that.”
Ram Odin didn’t argue. “Do you agree that I should offer to sit up with the wife tonight and listen to her breathe?”
“Don’t you need your sleep?” asked Rigg. “If you fall asleep during tomorrow’s conversations, I’ll have to sell you to somebody else.”