The Clarkl Soup Kitchens (9 page)

Just as everything was being replaced inside the cabin, the merchant and two crew members brought in a small wooden desk, certainly new but made to look like one in the Queen Anne style. A small armchair also was brought in, “just to see how they look.”

The card table and the folding chairs were quickly taken to the back of the closet. While I was considering the desk and the chair, the merchant brought in several framed botanicals and had various workers hold them up over the bed and over the desk.

I authorized another large expenditure, and the merchant and its crew took their leave.

In all, I spent over $50,000 for this upgrade to property I will never own.

The merchant assured me the tiles will keep the place warm every day, even when the temperature is below zero Fahrenheit. The new bedspread keeps me warm in bed, too.

The new desk and chair are very comfortable, and I believe I will be happy here for the rest of the two years I will be on Clarkl.

March 22, 2144
– I kept to my little cabin today, except for the services and my meals.

How nice everything looks! The bed is still quite small, about the size of a long single bed at home, but it is very comfortable. The merchant assured me it was the brand used at the only hotel on Clarkl that caters to Americans.

The Reverend Walters has become somewhat morose about the lack of attendance in the dining room and at our services.

The only way we are able to find Clarklians to attend the services is to direct them to the sanctuary after the meals. One person stands at the dining room’s exit and points toward the sanctuary, and another stands by the door of the sanctuary and points toward the benches inside.

When the temperature is extremely cold, as it is from time to time, the locals are willing to go into the warm sanctuary. On other days, they are more likely to just get back into their little vehicles and go back to their other amusements.

I understand that few Clarklians spend their time in those little houses. Instead, they gather in the streets or in the several public meeting halls to talk or play games.

Our clientele is unlikely to have extra money to spend on entertainment. It seems to me the music they hear at our services is their only entertainment.

I am not certain how the government supports these many entities who do not work, but my farmhand friend believes each Clarklian receives the house, electricity and water for the house, and a very small allowance. Our dining room is available for those who are unable to afford food.

Most of our clientele drive to our compound for meals. Some, of course, walk, but the usual mode of transportation is the one-person vehicle. My farmhand friend has the idea these vehicles are given away, but it is not clear to me why some entities do not have them.

Most of our clientele are Drones, who are sterile. For this reason, we don’t have many children coming into the dining room. The Reverend Walters has seen only three or four children in the sanctuary. Perhaps they were brought there to see the sights and hear the music.

March 23, 2144
– Another comfortable day in my redecorated cabin.

The merchant returned today just after breakfast. It said it wanted to thank me for my business and to present me with a framed drawing of the planet’s spectacular Crystal Ice Ponds.

We placed the drawing over my desk, and the merchant took its leave.

I cannot imagine a more pleasant experience than I have had with this Clarklian. If it had cost me half as much, I would have been happier, but merchants are merchants all over the universe. This one was very congenial and very attentive. Even the painting work was carefully supervised.

Our services were essentially empty today. The choir, the Reverend Walters, and I were entirely alone for the first service, and we had two Clarklians in the pews for the second service. Both left before the offertory.

The shows went on. The Reverend Walters continued with his homilies on the evils of the Roman Catholic Church, even though that organization is essentially out of business in
America
. I suspect he learned those sermons in divinity school and has not yet thrown out his notes.

The manager in charge of the farming efforts came to the staff dining room today to discuss what vegetables were expected to be harvested in the next two months. It looks like cabbage is booming. I heard from one of the cooks he was berating the dining room manager for the poor numbers of meals served. Certainly he has a big stake in the productivity of our dining room.

March 24, 2144
– Easter services are in less than two weeks, and we started our preparations today. I’m not sure if anybody will be in the pews, but we are pretending it will be the most important day of the year.

There won’t be any new clothes in the congregation, that’s for sure. These Clarklians don’t ever think of replacing their garments until they are worn out, and there is no place for Earthlings to go to buy the latest in fashion.

The choir is very enthusiastic, anyway. Ever since I began recording nearly everything they prepare and present, they have been on time to each practice session and even occasionally on pitch.

The modulation system really has been wonderful, and we use it for every service. However, the individual members of the choir need to stand somewhat apart so no microphone picks up more than one singer, and they have had to get used to that.

One so-called soprano is quite a boomer. She must have come from the revival tent circuit. I have set her input maximum so she no longer drowns out the others, and I wonder if she has noticed. Certainly the recordings present a good blend of these voices.

We started with the Bach today, and it sounded very good.
Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring
is one number nearly every Christian chorister can sing, and our choir is almost ready to present it. Then, we moved onto something new to the choir, a John Charles Myllar number with plenty of fireworks for the accompanist. Rough going there.

March 25, 2144
– My mother has sent, via the latest spacecraft, some boots and several scarves her friends have knitted. I put the scarves on a table right outside the dining room, with a note that said “Free to Good Home.” Within fifteen minutes our locals had gathered to examine the garments and to snap them up. Somebody left a coin worth about $10, and I put that into the plate before the second service.

The boots are very warm, and I sent a letter of appreciation. I also sent a picture of one of the locals wearing the most colorful of the scarves.

March 26, 2144
– We are going through a bit of a rainy period now. Rain is usually very heavy later in the year, but the planet has so much ice at the poles that rain can surprise even the oldest of the Clarklians.

The rain has had a pleasant result: the locals are coming to the dining room. The manager believes it has something to do with fellowship, a desire to see one’s own kind when the weather is bad. I, on the other hand, think it is because it is easier to drive to our dining room than to shop for food in this weather.

The New Christian Congregation has opened an automat, and that service, I understand, is jammed when it rains. The Clarklians take food out of the doors faster than the Americans can stuff it in from the other side. The Congregation has a nice covered walkway that leads to the automat, and the locals are able to pick up food without braving the elements.

My little cabin is quite snug in this rain. The roof is good, and I understand it is rated for winds of up to 175 miles per hour, something we never see in
Texas
.

I have been keeping the floor warm all day, even while I am away, and the window is very steamy when I return. The exterior paint seems to be holding up under the rain.

The merchant was back yesterday to visit another American. Of course, this is not the time to paint, but I understand colors were selected and a mattress was sold.

I am thinking, in this rain, about a hot toddy.

March 27, 2144
– About six hours of rehearsals today, with the winds howling outside.

Our sanctuary building is the least sturdy of the buildings in the compound. I understand the first Americans here built it themselves from plans that were developed for a modest church in
North Dakota
. Since that time it has had several new roofs, but the building remains the one not up to local standards.

Even those 121-square-foot dwellings are better able to withstand the cold and the winds than our sanctuary. The Clarklians build them like
Fort
Knox
. I understand all those tiny houses have that expensive electric flooring, although probably not with platinum flakes throughout. The government keeps boiling water circulating through a special set of pipes so the water that runs to all houses is kept above freezing at all times. It sounds like a plumbing nightmare, with a requirement for three temperatures of water in each building.

March 28, 2144
– My house continues to be snug enough. The winds from yesterday have somewhat subsided, and the sanctuary is warmer.

For the last several days, though, we have rehearsed in our warmest coats and hats. It is easier, I think, to sing wearing a heavy coat than to accompany. But everyone, myself included, had to stop to wipe spectacles and noses throughout the day.

At the worst of this little storm, the temperature outside was about twenty below, Fahrenheit.

The Clarklians are used to it, and they did not feel the need to stay at home. Our dining room was nearly full yesterday.

Between the dining room’s large building and the many cabins is an enclosed walkway, and the nearest entrance to that walkway from my cabin is about ten feet. Running that short of a distance in the cold was enough to convince me I want to go home.

Alas, my assignment is only a few weeks old.

March 29, 2144
– Much warmer today.

This was our Palm Sunday celebration, and the Reverend Walters was ready with the story of the entrance into
Jerusalem
. There is no vegetation here that resembles palm fronds.

The choir is sounding better with the Myllar and so am I. We recorded it at the early rehearsal today and played it back for ourselves, something that took about an hour and a half in total. Each person had one ear on the combined performance and one ear on his or her own voice or, in my case, instrument. We sat with the score and marked what needed improvement. The next rehearsal, in the afternoon, was better.

Somebody in
America
sent us some green robes, and the choir is determined to introduce them at the Easter services. I think they are hideous, but they are certainly a change from the black. One of the mezzos is pressing them.

One problem with my redecorated quarters is that people visit. Particularly women.

All the women here are old, old, old. The youngest is certainly ten years older than I, making her just under fifty. They are good Christian widows, for the most part, here for ten years to bridge the gap between widowhood and retirement. They want to talk, talk, talk, mostly about their children in
America
.

Is there any way to put up a Do Not Disturb sign on the door? No. It would be discussed at length in the staff lounge the next day, and attempts to visit me would be redoubled.

There is no place to hide. There is no library with carrels where a person can appear to be studying. There is no bar with booths. There is no Odd Fellows’ Lodge.

I need to stay here at least until the wedding in
Texas
. Only then will I be safe from the grasping reach of that gold digger who has captured my mother’s heart.

March 30, 2144
– A nice day, just a degree or two below freezing. We rehearsed in our sweaters and scarves.

I think the Bach is ready. Certainly the Reverend Walters thought it sounded good when he attended the rehearsal today.

These women do not bother the Reverend Walters. He is over seventy and really quite seedy. If somebody were to tell me he had spent his youth in a gin bottle, I would not be surprised.

Where is Mrs. Walters? Nobody knows.

A Protestant clergyman without a good wife never gets anywhere professionally. He has to take the bottom of the assignment barrel, perhaps in a homeless shelter or, even worse, in Clarkl.

April 1, 2144
– My farmhand friend sent me an electronic message, suggesting we take another ride. I read that as his wanting another $20 bill, perhaps more. I have put him off until after Easter.

We have seven numbers prepared, one for Maundy Thursday, three for Good Friday, and three for Easter Sunday. Of these seven, Good Friday is good and the rest are fair.

Our timekeeping here is very loose. We have no exact idea of when the actual Full Moon takes place since our calendar is based on a day longer than twenty-four hours. Every month or so we skip a day, and we skipped March 31 to get back to something close to our Christian calendar.

We have been told to expect a visit by the Monarchs in the next few days. These visits, I have been told, are very much like royal progresses. The Monarchs visit our dining room, we smile, and the locals prostrate themselves.