Here is a perfectly ordinary red district in Anitam. Nelen parks his truck at the recharge station, and the next driver takes the handoff, and Nelen stretches out the kinks in his back and heads home.
Nod nod. "The chalk is why?"
"Ah." He nods comprehendingly. "Yes. I will change it," a quick consultation of the notes, "before I go."
"I will change it to black."
He nods acknowledgingly.
"I don't mind," he agrees.
Eden sleeps on his lovely new mattress which, whatever its failings, is more horizontal than a beanbag.
At some point during the day he does in fact run out of paper and has to do some very jury-rigged minor transmutation to reorganize all his language notes into a smaller, more neatly written format so he can keep taking notes on new vocabulary.