Every Edge Flush

Nial Triffett and Kain Jeffries were back inside the container before most of the settlement had finished breakfast. The previous evening's work had left three walls fully panelled and both window frames in place. What remained was the fourth wall — the short panel opposite the container doors — and the trim work around the windows where plywood met timber surround.

The fourth wall was the simplest job of the entire fit-out. The span was barely two and a half metres wide, with no windows or vents to cut around. Kain measured and marked two sheets while Nial cut them on the ground outside. The first sheet went up whole. The second needed trimming along one edge where the container's corner post narrowed the gap, and Kain ran the handsaw down the pencil line with the kind of easy accuracy that comes from having done the same cut hundreds of times on building sites back on Earth. Both sheets were fixed to the battens and sitting flush within twenty minutes.

The window trim was more particular. Each opening needed narrow strips of plywood cut to bridge the gap between the main wall panels and the timber frame surround — filler pieces that gave the windows a finished edge rather than leaving raw timber and screw heads visible. The strips had to be measured individually because no two gaps were identical. The crooked first window, with its shimmed header and slightly leaning sill, demanded strips that tapered by a few millimetres across their length to compensate for the frame's imperfection. Nial cut these himself, checking each one against the gap before fixing it.

Kain handled the second window, where the previous evening's clean framing made the trim work straightforward. Each strip sat square against both panel and frame without adjustment. He fixed them with small-gauge screws at close intervals, countersinking each head below the plywood surface so the finished edge would be smooth under a coat of paint.

The last task was running a bead of trim along the base of each wall where the panelling met the floor plates, and along the ceiling line where the panels terminated against the container's upper rail. These were functional rather than decorative — they covered the raw edges of the plywood and prevented the sheets from lifting away from the battens at their extremities. Nial and Kain worked opposite ends of the container and met in the middle of the rear wall, fitting the last strip into place with a tap from the heel of Kain's palm.

Nial swept the container out while Kain collected the tools and offcuts. The interior was fully enclosed now — four walls of pale plywood over timber battens, two framed window openings admitting rectangles of light, the ceiling vents striping the floor between them. The space was clean, dry, and bare. It smelled of sawdust and fresh-cut pine. It looked nothing like a classroom yet, but it looked nothing like a shipping container either. The surface was ready, every edge flush and every screw head buried, waiting for whatever came next.