"Naw, sweetie, don't be scared by them. You'll be just fine, I know it."

Smile. "Thanks."

She pauses for a second, considering, then stands on her toes, to peer in the window.

Rachel leans back and tilts her head questioningly.

Melba reaches over, to point out the buttons on her unused C.B. radio.

PUB. "Public channel. General discussion, big forum style." BEARS. "Warnings about speed traps and other cop patrols." SIDEB. "Sidebar. Someone in the pub wants to talk to you semi-privately, you can go here." LAWL. "Jokes. Raunchy as hell, but keeps your spirits up." TRFF. "Traffic reports. Accidents and slowdown. Critical if you want to get your deliveries done on time. You following me so far, hun?"

Nod. "Had guessed a few of them."

"All of these channels evolved over the years so folks out here could work together in the Outlands. Good clear signal, better range than you get on Earth for some reason—we had the Internet before the Internet existed. Good thing too, because the world's spread thin out here. It's not cramped up and tight like in the cities. Without that connection it's just you in the middle of nowhere, friendless. Something goes wrong and you've got nobody in your corner, you're in a bad place alone. We pull together and in the end, everybody lives another day."

Having stretched enough for one day, Melba settles back, adjusting her apron.

"Tomorrow, you come by for lunch. I'll make you somethin' special," she offers. "And I'll have a word with Eddie and the other Eddies beforehand. You got at least me in your corner, come to that."

"Thanks," she smiles. "It's kind of a lot to take in."

"It is, but you'll do fine. I better get back to the counter now," she says. "And what Eddie was ramblin' about, your route? You hang in there. He just doesn't want to admit he couldn't hack it running teddy bears. You get this done, stick with it despite the nine kinds o' crazy you're about to face, they'll respect you in time. Drive safe, now."

With that, Melba ambles back into her establishment. 

Well, that was nice of her.

Rachel finishes off her food and then she should probably get going.

Her first destination is a construction site. The first email from Jeb is very specific, highlighting an address to a building that doesn't exist yet. Department of Resources Construction Site #378, Highway Four. Deliver box marked 'Jerry' to foreman between 1pm and 1:30pm.

So she follows the instructions given by the map app and then she's there.

And it is, in fact, between 1pm and 1:30pm, so after reading over the message again to make sure she got it right… she goes to find the foreman.

The spectacled workman behind a desk of messy paperwork does not greet Rachel's cardboard boxed delivery with the enthusiasm of expectation. Instead, he deploys a concentrated look of confusion.

"… Is something wrong?"

"Deliveries go to the resource shed," the foreman points out.

"It's supposed to be delivered to Jerry the foreman," she says, holding up the instructions. "Says right here."

"I'm Jerry the foreman and I didn't order anything. What is it?"

"Toy," she says, softly, then shrugs. "It's addressed to you."

Now the foreman's expression changes to enthusiasm. "Toys?—wait, is that a teddy bear? Tell me that's a teddy bear. You're the new bear delivery person, right?"

"– Yes? … I should've led with that?"

The foreman eagerly rips into the box—but uses the utmost care to lift the actual bear out of its packaging. He sets it down gently, very gently on his desk, propped up against a toolbox. Adjusts the floppy doll's head slightly, to look out the window at the construction site...

"You have no idea what a relief this is," the foreman says, with a smile. "We're eight weeks in on this project and I was beginning to worry I wouldn't be getting a bear this time. Takes a load off my mind, believe you me!"

The guard who delivered Rachel looks nowhere as relieved as the foreman.

"I'm glad to have helped," she says. "… Uh, I'm not sure I see the relation, though."

"The bears are so the building doesn't fall down, of course!"

Blink. "Sorry, how do they help with that?"

"I'll grant you this is superstitious hokum," the foreman admits. "But... I'm not the only one who's gotten bears. Other project directors in the Department got them too, for a decade or so. At first we were like, what the heck? Why is some crazy old lady sending us kids' toys? But when Bob threw away his bear in the trash, I kid you not, the very next day his building project went cubist and had to be quarantined. Meanwhile, every project where the bear was kept on site? No problems at all. Still standing strong, even after years. They're good luck charms, and you don't buy them, you don't ask for them. You either get one or you don't. But now I've got one! This project'll be juuuust fine now. All thanks to you!"