Part 5 (1/2)

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 fellows.h.i.+p, 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 st.u.r.dy 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 rehea.r.s.ed 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 a.s.signment 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 rehea.r.s.ed 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? n.o.body knows.

A Protestant clergyman without a good wife never gets anywhere professionally. He has to take the bottom of the a.s.signment 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.

I have never seen a Monarch, except in pictures, and I am very anxious to find out what the fuss is all about. The dining room manager a.s.sures me they never enter the sanctuary, so I have asked for a temporary job in the dining room during the visit.

There is no king and no queen. Instead, one Monarch is clearly the top dog, and the rest follow its lead. The top Monarch, I understand, is always the product of the former top Monarch and another Monarch, even though the mating of a Monarch and a Wolpter will result in a Monarch half the time.

So the top Monarch must be careful to mate with those of its own kind since the other Monarchs will select one of these offspring as the next top Monarch at the time of the succession.

The gossip here is that the current top Monarch, called the Vlogo, is rather effete and not given to spreading its genes. It has only three offspring for consideration, and this Vlogo is getting close to the time when offspring will be needed.

As for our Drones, I can't tell who is young and who is old. The adults look sufficiently vigorous and healthy. Certainly they are all getting enough to eat.

Monarchs are far more interested in mating with Seekers, Slinkers, and Carriers than in mating with the lower-cla.s.s Wolpters. These matches never create a Monarch, but they often create a Batwig, the companions of the Monarchs.

April 2, 2144 Our final day of rehearsal before the Holy Week services start in earnest. We have decided to take next Monday as a holiday, and I will play the services by myself. I also will play some of our recorded anthems, thus giving the choir a free day.

The Reverend Walters a.s.sures me the Monarchs will want to attend the Easter services. I don't really believe it, but I think we are as ready with the music as we can get.

Three women stopped by my cabin this evening with ham hors d'oeuvres. The canned ham was a gift from some do-gooder in Virginia, and it arrived just this afternoon. Of course, we won't serve ham to the locals since they are vegetarians.

I have seen no animals on Clarkl other than the human types that visit the dining room. The Reverend Walters a.s.sures me that great beasts roam the colder parts of the planet, never coming close to the equator. The locals do not ever consider eating them.

What I would do right now for a really fine steak!

April 3, 2144 The Maundy Thursday service was a triumph. The choir really sounded good, and the homily was fitting and not too foreboding about the terrible Good Friday events.

We had a few locals in the pews, too. We have been here for many, many years, and some of the Clarklians are aware this is our big week.

Some of the Americans from the New Christian Congregation's dining room were at the service, and so were some of the people from the farms. Ours is the only formal Christian service on this planet, as far as I know, and we expect to see even more Americans tomorrow and on Sunday.

This is my first Holy Week at the organ, too. I served as a volunteer subst.i.tute organist at our church at home, but the starting lineup was always on duty during Easter week. I rehea.r.s.ed with the choir once or twice, but I never got the call.

April 4, 2144 Monarchs everywhere today! They ate in the dining room and attended both services in the sanctuary!