That hasn't changed any. The rich have always been able to do whatever they want. Society was...it was a mess, before the plague. It's still a mess, probably, but...well, when ninety nine percent of the population is killed off, it erases that divide pretty quickly.
[Captain Trips hadn't cared how much money anyone had, it had worked its way through every set of the population the same. Money hadn't made any difference and the mansions and luxury resorts were just as clogged with dead bodies as anywhere else.]
That's how it was in the children's homes. We were pretty much locked in at night, and we couldn't go anywhere on our own. They kept track of us. And where would we even go? Foster families usually weren't so strict. Half of them were just doing it to get the government stipend, the state paid families who took in foster kids. And I went into the system when I was already eleven, I was way too old to be adopted again. I was what they call a frequent flyer. I'd go to a foster home for a few months, or even once a year, and then the family wouldn't want me anymore and sent me back.
[It's easier to talk about this sort of stuff with Amos. He's not the kind to start delving for more information, he takes what he's told and she thinks he can understand, in a way. She's not looking for sympathy, she's not trying to spin some sad tale for points, she's just sharing things she feels he can appreciate.]
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[Captain Trips hadn't cared how much money anyone had, it had worked its way through every set of the population the same. Money hadn't made any difference and the mansions and luxury resorts were just as clogged with dead bodies as anywhere else.]
That's how it was in the children's homes. We were pretty much locked in at night, and we couldn't go anywhere on our own. They kept track of us. And where would we even go? Foster families usually weren't so strict. Half of them were just doing it to get the government stipend, the state paid families who took in foster kids. And I went into the system when I was already eleven, I was way too old to be adopted again. I was what they call a frequent flyer. I'd go to a foster home for a few months, or even once a year, and then the family wouldn't want me anymore and sent me back.
[It's easier to talk about this sort of stuff with Amos. He's not the kind to start delving for more information, he takes what he's told and she thinks he can understand, in a way. She's not looking for sympathy, she's not trying to spin some sad tale for points, she's just sharing things she feels he can appreciate.]