Page 41 of Sixty Meters Under
“How was the shift today, was everything okay?” Gunnar asked and put his cup on the table, the smell of strong coffee wafting through the room.
“Yeah, there weren’t any issues,” George said and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair.
“Good. I hope we’ll have an easy shift as well. Patrolling during the night is always more challenging,” Gunnar added.
“Especially in a boring place like this.” Erica laughed.
“Hey! Don’t even say such things!” George turned to her, and shook his head, but the corner of his lips turned upwards.
“Sorry. Just stating the obvious.”
“I know, I know. It’s hard to stay awake when nothing’s happening,” George said as he walked out the door.
Isamu and Gunnar took their seats and sipped the hot coffee while observing the situation in the bunker.
In the first ten days, no major incidents had occurred. People were willing to cooperate and help each other, although therehad been a few nervous breakdowns. Psychologists had their hands full even though people supported each other and spent time in groups to bring and create positivity. They knew that this calm might not last but hoped it would stay this way for as long as possible.
The first hour passed smoothly, but towards the end of the dinner period the duo noticed a commotion in one of the sections.
“What’s going on there?” Isamu asked, pointing at the canteen camera.
“Complaining about something?” Gunnar leaned in to see better.
“Seems so. I’m going to check,” Isamu said and rose from his chair.
“Ring me if you need help. I’ll monitor the rest of the bunker.”
“Yes, sir!”
It took Isamu a few minutes to reach the desired level. He walked inside with heavy steps and headed straight for the food service desk where three residents argued about something.
“No, no! You did give me a small portion! Look at this,” a man shouted at a young woman while pushing his plate to her face.
“I did not!” The young woman shook her head. “I gave the same portion to everyone.”
“You did this to me too, look!” An older woman complained as well.
“What seems to be the problem?” Isamu stopped beside the group and asked in an authoritative tone. They fell silent and turned to him.
The man spoke first, “She gave us less food. And it wasn’t the first time she did that.”
“Can you show me? You haven’t started eating yet I suppose.”
“No, I haven’t,” the man said and showed him his plate. “See this?”
Isamu looked at the portion. A pile of peas, a piece of meat, and rice; all seemed in order. He then looked at the man’s face and turned to the woman who was holding her portion and compared. There wasn’t any difference, so he turned and asked others who were present, “Has someone else received a portion and not started eating yet?”
Only one woman raised her hand. “I have only eaten a little bit of meat.”
“Come and show me your plate.” Isamu gestured to her to come to his side. She approached and held out her tray. Same food and it looked quantitatively the same. Isamu turned to the duo who’d complained and raised his eyebrows.
The man started, “See? She has a small portion as well!”
“Yes, she has the same portion as you,” Isamu said and locked his gaze with the man’s. “On what basis did you conclude that the portions are smaller?”
“Do you think we will survive if they give us so little to eat?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
