The Clarkl Soup Kitchens (8 page)

I could never tell my mother this, but the news was a wonderful relief to me. I could never have married this woman without a lifelong sense of regret, and I am glad she has found someone else. Perhaps this will allow my mother to stop her continual hounding about my settling down.

If the truth be told, I would never have come to Clarkl if my mother had allowed me to live in peace with my choices. Her continuing correspondence with the Reverend Walters is annoying, of course, but not as difficult for me to live with as her videophone calls at all hours of the day. At least I am free from her interruptions here.

What is the secret of the New Christian Congregation’s popularity with the locals? That is the question of the moment, and the dining room manager is devising a survey so we can find out.

The choir is working on seven additional numbers with the modulation system. Today, one local recorded the first anthem and my Monteverdi intermezzo before the Credo. Then, he tramped out.

There is no need to include the offertory in the order of service. The locals do not give, and the staff is already giving a mandatory ten percent of their monthly payment. We volunteers contributed at the start. The Reverend Walters doesn’t see it, but he is used to giving people every opportunity to contribute. Meanwhile, I have to find something quiet for the music, and the locals lose interest.

March 13, 2144
– Unlike nearly everybody else here, I do not have a day off. The Reverend Walters, the choir, and I are on every day. This is starting to grate upon me.

Between the two services, there are four hours, and I am allowed to go out on explorations during that time.

Today I engaged one of the farmhands to take me to the market in a town between Overowl and Gilsumo. I paid him twenty dollars in American money, which he can wire to his American bank.

The farm trucks are large, of course, but they allow two people to sit in comfort. We rode the 75 miles in less than an hour.

Rugs are essentially unknown, I guess. I wish I could see what the Monarchs are using on the floors of their homes, but visiting homes is off limits. I signed an agreement that says so.

At the market I found a place that sells flooring. These items are essentially tiles that fit together, tongue in groove. Only eight patterns were offered, and all of them were way above what I wanted to spend. To place these tiles all over my floor, I would need to convert $27,000 to Clarkl money! Furthermore, all my purchases on Clarkl technically are the property of the Clarkl government, so a huge outlay like that is inappropriate. I returned to the compound with no rug and no flooring.

Other people are not complaining. They spend their spare time in the staff lounge and not in their cabins. The lounge is warm, and the linoleum covers the entire floor. If there were less idle chatter, I would spend more time there myself.

I think it inappropriate for a multimillionaire to be freezing his fanny off in his own home.

March 14, 2144
– The survey has started. Each local is asked seven questions as he comes into the dining room. The dining room manager expects to continue the survey for seven days and then compile the results.

The Reverend Walters has informed me the New Christian Congregation’s compound is now off limits. We are no longer welcome there.

More recordings by the locals at the services today. The choir did a wonderful job with
I’ll Walk with God
, with the help of the modulation system. My own Mozart sonata on the keyboard was nearly perfect, too.

The Reverend Walters continues to ask the locals to come to the chancel to accept Jesus Christ as their savior, but his score, in over ten years on Clarkl, is zero. The natives are willing to come into the sanctuary to listen to the music, but the message has not been received.

These locals know their own government is providing the food, but they have no concept here of the value of the religious life. The laws that exist look very much like our own Ten Commandments, and the Monarchs and their lieutenants, the Batwigs, keep order without any mention of rewards in heaven.

In the nearly seventy years the Fundamentalists of Christ have been here on Clarkl, only fourteen converts have been made. And some of these did not provide for Christian burials in their wills.

March 15, 2144
– I feel I am nearly dried out now. My terrible thirst for alcohol has somewhat abated, and I believe I have met my goal for my trip to Clarkl.

The Clarklians never take alcohol. The agreement I signed said I would not bring wine, beer, or liquor to Clarkl and I would not make any alcoholic beverage while I was here.

I am certain I cannot buy alcohol in town. My rug adventures took me near several places that would offer bottles, but nothing was shown in the windows.

Certainly no alcohol was served in the spacecraft on our deck. The lower decks were stuffed full of various types of Christians, all teetotalers. There was no temptation there for me.

Meanwhile, I think about the joys of drinking every day.

March 16, 2144
– A full meeting of the compound after the second service today. The dining room’s troubles have redoubled after the start of the survey. The Clarklians are not interested in giving information. The number of meals served was half today what it was three days ago.

The government has a complete census, going back several thousands of years. Everything the Clarklians want the government to know has already been collected. There is no patience with prying Christians from afar.

March 17, 2144
– I went out on another drive with my farmhand friend. This time I wanted to look at housing.

Each Clarklian is guaranteed a house. The basic house is about eleven feet square, with a simple shower bathroom and an all-purpose room that is heated by electricity. We saw many of these little houses, built close together in rows.

Any Clarklian who can afford a better house can upgrade by presenting his housing certificate and money. The best house I have seen looks to be about two thousand square feet. Of course, I have not been into the Monarchs’ compounds, where I am assured there are enormous palaces shared by the families.

Some Batwigs live with the Monarchs. A Batwig always has one Monarch parent, and if that Monarch is powerful and interested in its non-Monarch offspring, it can keep its Batwigs in its house.

Nevertheless, the Batwigs have the best of the housing outside the Monarchs’ compounds. They are thought to be very intelligent, and they usually have good jobs. Unlike the Drones, they do not spend all their time fornicating or thinking about fornicating. They are sterile and do not need to worry about creating offspring.

It is interesting to me that the Monarchs never keep their non-Monarch, non-Batwig offspring at their compounds. When a Monarch mates with any other type of Clarklian, half the time the offspring will be the same type as its non-Monarch parent. The Monarchs do not ever claim these offspring.

The combinations of matings are finite. I have been filling in a table of mating results, and I nearly have a complete record. I have found that almost half the mating combinations, except for those that involve the Monarchs or a mating between two of the same type, will produce a Drone either half the time or all the time.

The problem with the famine this planet has experienced over the last several millennia is that it has affected the Drones significantly. They are the first to starve. Although all Clarklians are welcome to eat at our dining room, we realize it has been established for the Drones.

March 18, 2144
– Things are even grimmer at the dining room. We threw away food, for the first time in anyone’s memory.

The last time somebody moved up on the waiting list for the deluxe cabins was over one year ago. I need to brace myself for the terrible expense of redecorating.

A quiet day today. I am nearly used to the longer time between sunrises, and I am now sometimes late to breakfast.

The cooks here do a nice breakfast, as far as it goes. Of course, there is no bacon, but they have a nice touch with dried eggs. Waffles are my favorite of the standard offerings for the staff, with wickenberries in the batter and also on the top. The maple syrup certainly has been made with some maple flavoring in a sugar solution, but it has a good taste.

Waffles are not on the dining room’s menu because they don’t wait well on the steam tables. The locals are asked to eat what looks like cream of wheat. Sometimes wickenberries are served, when there is a good crop.

The choir has been singing its heart out, even though the attendance at each service is very poor. We have recorded several of their anthems, and I hope to send these recordings back to
America
to help with the Clarkl fundraising. Of course, the modulation system is keeping everybody on the correct pitch, even that froggy tenor.

The women in the choir are really redoubling their rehearsal times now in the hopes we will have more recordings to send to
America
. I took a picture of the choir gathered around the organ, and we will have that to add to the advertisements. They wanted to show themselves with the modulation system’s microphones, but I decided that would reveal too many secrets.

If I could send the choir home and use only the recordings at the services, I could move into a deluxe cabin immediately.

March 19, 2144
– Back on the prowl for furnishings. The farmhand, still willing to accept twenty dollar bills, drove me to Gilsumo right after the first service today.

I saw many more types of the electrified tiled flooring, and I spent almost $18,000 on enough to cover the room. The salesperson was a Carrier, a curious blend of agility and girth. I believe it was about five and one half feet in height and perhaps four and one half feet in circumference. It ran back and forth between the stockroom and the salesroom while we talked, bringing out the most expensive tiles first and gradually moving down to the ones I was willing to buy.

Most merchants are Carriers, I found out. They have devices that allow them to translate many of the languages of the universe while they sell. The salesperson spoke its language into a box it wore on his chest, and good English came out.

The merchant will send the installation team to our compound tomorrow.

The farmhand and I had just enough time to step into the hotel that caters to Americans for a nice meal. The chef there is much better with the very limited selection of ingredients than our cooks. Still no meat.

I returned in time to accompany the second service. The attendance was very disheartening. Only two locals were at the service, and both left before the offertory.

March 20, 2144
– The merchant arrived with the installation crew just after breakfast. The workers, identified by the merchant as Slinkers, quickly moved everything from my tiny room out into the yard that separates my cabin from my neighbor’s.

While they worked, the merchant opened its truck and showed me a few items it had brought along, things it said I might like.

Here was a very nice lounge chair with an ottoman for $4,500, a bedspread with gold flecks and blue linen for $7,000, and several lamps with silk shades for prices between $1,700 and $10,000.

Of course, after the installation was complete, a task that took just an hour with a cabin of that size, the merchant and its crew dragged the chair, the lamps, and the bedspread into the cabin and placed them so I could see how they would “work together.”

Next, paint samples came out. Three paints were shown to coordinate with the various elements. Then, exterior paint was presented. Finally, a really comfortable mattress was brought into the cabin and placed on my bed for me to try.

The total amount was staggering, but I authorized all the expenditures. The merchant assured me it would return the following day with the painters. It also said it would “throw in” a drapery to match the bedspread.

Within a few minutes of the arrival of the merchant, the Reverend Walters appeared and poked his head into the cabin.

“How wonderful you have found some furnishings,” he cried. “I think you will be much happier here with these beautiful things.”

He clasped his hands to his face when he saw the finished electrified floor. He took off his shoes and felt the warmth come up from the tiles.

The merchant showed both of us how to regulate the heat from the tiles by turning a dial. It reminded me of a rheostat, except that it had different symbols for high and low.

The kitchen staff arrived next, with the choir in tow. Many words were said in admiration of the new items, and nobody asked me to feel guilty for spending so much.

March 21, 2144
– The merchant returned just as the star came up over the horizon today. He had a crew of six, and they set about with the interior and exterior painting.

It is hard to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, but that crew did as near as dammit. The exterior was painted a nice olive green with gold trim, and the interior was painted a warm, light beige with olive green trim.

I took pictures of the crew and the merchant, standing with the Reverend Walters on the stoop of my cabin. The pictures showed the gold door and the paint-splattered Clarklians. The merchant stood proudly in the center.