The Clarkl Soup Kitchens Part 10

Actually, she lived until one hundred and one. She was determined to live longer than Queen Elizabeth II had lived, but she died five years too early for that.

She talked frequently of her courtship. The first husband, the one who had conveniently died and had made her a rich widow, was very seldom mentioned. It was the Judge who was the person meant when she said, "My husband."

I never met the Judge, of course. The house was filled with pictures of a tall man in a white suit, and she relived their courtship about once a month, always in the same tone of voice and with nearly the same words.

To hear her talk, it was the romance of the century. Two childless widowed people, finding each other. Between the words were the facts that she had a huge life insurance settlement and he had a big house. His retirement income from his job as a justice of the peace surely did not allow him to live well, but when they pooled their resources they were very, very comfortable. The Judge's weekly maid was replaced by a live-in housekeeper, and they entertained old friends with her money in his house. Cut gla.s.s crystal, acc.u.mulated by the first Mrs. Aperson, came out from old china cupboards to be polished and used. The wedding photograph's rumpled white suit was discarded, and later photographs showed silk fabrics for both of them. Even Ferdy looked well dressed.

How funny that I remember it now. She said, again and again, "Finding love is the best thing. Everything else is unimportant if you find love." I often wondered if the Judge would agree.

March 18, 2146 I updated my will today, and the office manager and his a.s.sistant witnessed it. Then, I faxed it to Mr. Whipple over the slow line.

It seemed more appropriate to leave the house, or what equity I have in it, to Louis. The will I signed just before I came to Clarkl had it going to Penn State, for whatever use they wished. This new will leaves the house to Louis for his lifetime and then it goes to Penn State.

How strange blood ties are! After all these years, I still believe my genes might be entered into the next generation through Louis.

Mrs. Aperson had no blood relatives at the end. She spoke from time to time about a sister who had died, but there was no relative to visit or to care for her as she grew older. Certainly Ferdy was out of the running.

I believe the Judge left Ferdy something in his will, and maybe Mrs. Aperson had to mortgage the house to make good on the bequest. Of course, the first mortgage I know about was taken out in 2116, about seven years after the Judge pa.s.sed. Perhaps that mortgage was taken out to pay off an earlier one, though.

Work still is easy, and I meet all my deliverables on time. Each day I go over to the office and spend four or five hours. The other people have plenty of time to visit at work, but I get my work done and go back to my cabin.

My spare time is still spent in reverie. I go over, again and again, the thirty-one years I spent with Mrs. Aperson and my affair with Ferdy.

Did he ever know about the babies? I never told him, and, of course, he never asked. Each one was born while he was out of town, and each one died before he could come home. Mrs. Aperson surely scolded him for conducting our affair, but I cannot believe she mentioned the children.

How relieved she must have been when he married! While I was full of a terrible anguish, she must have rejoiced that a rich woman was taking on this burden. With the purchase of a three-carat diamond, she got rid of the nuisance and the expense of this playboy.

June 17, 2146 A receipt from Mr. Whipple today for the will. I put it in my desk at the office so anyone can find it.

The nine missing people from the church have not yet been located. The American government would like to send a fact-finding mission to Clarkl, but they have no way to get here. Replacements for the people still here are not allowed to come. No other planet wants to get into the middle of whatever is going on, either.

The s.p.a.cecrafts full of food are still arriving, though. The Clarklians are still sending uranium and whatnot to America, and the American government is still buying food to send to Clarkl.

September 9, 2146 A terrible storm of snow and ice yesterday, worse than anything anybody can remember. The snow was piled high up against my door.

We were unable to open the dining room today. No cook could get from his or her cabin to the kitchen, and the dining room manager, who has a cabin with a back door opening onto the kitchen, posted a notice at the front door that offered candy bars to any Clarklian who came. She stood in the foyer and handed them out all day.

How can these Clarklians get around? Are their roads clear?

The electricity and the water stayed on throughout. I was warm. I was also hungry, with only some crackers from my closet.

The dining room manager finally called the Slinkers for help. They brought machines that quickly melted the snow and other machines that sucked up the water. By the end of the day, we had paths cleared to the dining room from most of the cabins. Tomorrow or the next day we will have a path cleared to the office, and I will spend a long day catching up with our reports. This storm will not help our statistics, unless the dining room manager counted the number of Clarklians who came for candy bars.

February 27, 2147 The kidnapped church people have still not been found, and the American government has decided to sponsor college scholarships for those of us who are, for the moment, stranded here on Clarkl. I can think of twenty things I want more than a college scholarship, but I am now a doctoral candidate at Columbia University's School of Education.

The communication lines work fairly well. We use the faster line, of course, and all texts and lectures are delivered here.

I work my usual five hours each day, and then I return to my cabin for my cla.s.ses. I have been at it for about seven weeks, and I am enjoying the challenge of learning new things.

April 10, 2147 I have completed six units! I feel as if my life has been given back to me. If only I were thirty years younger.

The dining room statistics continue to grow, in spite of our troubles here. The Clarklians come, by themselves and in pairs, at all hours, from sunrise to several hours after sunset.

Our farms are continuing to produce plenty of fresh vegetables, too. Each s.p.a.cecraft brings a new variety of plant from America, and each year's crop seems to be bigger than the last.

The Clarklians have developed four types of robots to a.s.sist the farmers, and now our people are essentially managing the robots. The complaints about sore muscles are gone.

The dining room manager also has a new robot for paring potatoes. It is very good with the eyes, unlike the automated potato peelers at home.

May 31, 2147 Another three credits! I need a total of ninety credits for cla.s.ses and thirty-two for my thesis.

There was no bill from Kaufmann's this year. Ferdy's family had to get through Christmas without my usual largess. I sent Mrs. Crocker a Universal Gold transfer to buy something for herself.

Money remains good. I spend much less than I earn, and the 2129 mortgage is nearly paid off. Some money was set aside this year to paint the house, inside and outside, except for the attic.

No news from Louis. I really believe he expected to find me as a wealthy heiress and disappeared when the truth was told. I suppose there is a gene for disappearing that he has inherited.

June 9, 2147 My interests in my graduate school cla.s.ses have interrupted my ennui. I have not thought much about Ferdy in several months.

I can't imagine I will ever love again. Ferdy was just perfect, the right combination of pa.s.sion and disregard. When he was with me, he was always engaged in our relationship. When he was gone, neither of us thought much about the other.

I always a.s.sumed Mrs. Aperson would pa.s.s on while I was still young, and I would have plenty of time to find a reliable man to marry. One day I was shocked to find I was going through menopause and she was still alive.

July 21, 2147 The gossip making the rounds today is that the nine church people are at the royal compound. I don't know what proof there is behind this rumor.

Meanwhile, no replacements are coming and, consequently, n.o.body is going home. I have at least another five years before I will need to go to Albany, New York, to finish my thesis. Surely something will break before 2152.

August 31, 2147 Another six credits! I now have twelve, about one tenth of what I need. But it has been enjoyable!

The dining room manager is ill this week, and I have been helping to count noses as the Clarklians come to take their meals. How strange they look! I have seen various types of Clarklians from afar, of course, but they are infinitely more interesting up close. I usually offer my hand to each Clarklian who enters the vestibule, and sometimes one will take it.

The Drones are the friendliest, I think. They are certainly our most frequent guests. I know they are trying to like us.

September 30, 2147 A note from Louis today. He is working in Greensburg, very close to my house in Edgewood. He retired last year from the military as a Chief Warrant Officer with a small monthly stipend.

Louis had no news about Jack. He is paying a private investigator to find him and has, so far, expended more than $5,000. Surely Jack cannot be that difficult to locate now that all orphanage records have been unsealed and all adults are registered in the national database. Even if Louis just submitted a sample of his DNA, the database could find all his siblings and all his nieces and nephews within a few minutes.

How precious those early days seem now, as I grow older. If only Jack or Louis had children to carry on our place in the progress of humanity! If I had not smothered all my own children, I would not be so anxious for these nieces and nephews.

Mrs. Aperson died childless, and she did not seem to mind. She had her great romance with the Judge and her comfortable old age, with an attentive servant at her command at all hours for a very cheap price.

Ferdy will not die alone, either. Of his seven children I know of, three will certainly help to make sure he is warm and well fed as he grows older. If only he and I could be together!

Perhaps my status as a hostage, universal traveler, and doctoral candidate will elevate me in his eyes. Perhaps I will be a better dinner companion with tales of the frigid Clarkl to entertain his ba.n.a.l society a.s.sociates. Perhaps all the years on Clarkl will allow my skin to stay pale and young, and he will ignore his aging wife to live with me.

Can he ever think of me as anything but his aunt's servant, a very handy and accommodating bedfellow?

So many thoughts today, as I continue bravely with my graduate studies with no a.s.surance I will ever be rescued from this wild and primitive place.

Oscar Wright's Daily Record February 27, 2134 I sent my last volume of entries to Battle Mountain, Nevada, as instructed to by the company. It is being held in some secret place, far under the earth's surface.

The terrible rash of lawsuits has somewhat abated, but the company continues to save every sc.r.a.p of correspondence. Fannies need to be completely covered at all times. Even this minor f.a.n.n.y.

A message on the videorecorder from Lucille. All is well in Folsom. She took the kids up the hill to Placerville today to visit an old gold mine.

I wish I could be there with them. We never had much money for little tours when I was a child in Oakland, and now that I have the money I can't find the time.

April 18, 2134 Still inserting company notes into the voice recording part of this journal and my private thoughts into the sheets, in my own hand.

I admire neat handwriting, and I try to write as tidily as I can. I think a readable signature shows the disposition of an ordered mind and the courtesy of a person who wants to communicate effectively. The great John Hanc.o.c.k taught us all that a readable signature will last for the ages.

The seismic activity in Sacramento has been much in the news today. Many scientists are packing up and heading to California to set up their instruments.

April 20, 2134 Most of the Sacramento Valley disappeared today, and my beloveds with it.

I am here in Warren, Pennsylvania, crying my eyes out. The airlines won't fly further west than Reno, and n.o.body is renting cars for driving in California. I have been calling the Red Cross for news, but they have none. I am on a special list to receive automated mail every fifteen minutes, but there is no hope for me there. Each message says information is expected soon, but n.o.body knows what is going on.

When Vallejo went under the sea in 2121, I was only sixteen. At that time we had about seven days of notice and were able to move to Sacramento. We thought the towns to the east of Sacramento would be safe from all the flooding, but we never thought a ma.s.sive earthquake would send the entire valley down fifty feet.

The news broadcasts are filled with pictures, but there is only rushing water to be seen. The lists of the cities now under water includes Folsom, with an estimate of thirty feet of water over the old prison. That means our little house, just west of the prison, is under about thirty-five feet.

I can only regret I was not there to die with Lucille, Anthony, and Allegra. I have a computer full of movies of them, and that will have to last me a lifetime.

How happy we were! Both the children were out of diapers and were becoming great fun. We had enough money to enjoy life but not so much that we agonized over investment decisions. The grandparents visited, but not too frequently. It was as if the Universe had given me eight glorious years, with love and contentment.

April 22, 2134 I am still here in northern Pennsylvania, weeping and almost prostrate with shock. I have been in this grand hotel room for three days, seeing only the room service waiter.

The people at the Des Moines headquarters sent a message to everyone, asking for complete details about location and health situation. I wrote that my only concerns are about my family, and the president's secretary sent back a note saying the president was in constant contact with New Washington.

This did not make me feel any better. My family is gone, and New Washington can't do anything about it.

April 24, 2134 My situation is more clearly defined today. All my siblings are gone, along with my parents and my wife's parents. I am left with no one, and I can think only of my children and their dear, dear mother.

The media is full of the terrible pictures. The Sacramento River and the American River have formed essentially a huge bay. Any land that was below one thousand feet is either under water or is so unstable the government has evacuated all who live there.

Some relief from headquarters today, in spite of the situation. I am to stay here in Warren in this hotel until further notice. I am not to attempt to travel in any aircraft, under penalty of termination.

The president's secretary believes the company lost about a fifth of its workforce, or three thousand people. One plant was in Davis, California, and one sales office was in Dixon. These are gone. My own office in Placerville is condemned.

The insurance companies have exhausted their a.s.sets, according to the media. If the government bails out the insurers, the government will default on all its obligations.

April 26, 2134 I talked to my mortgage company today. They are recommending their borrowers continue to pay their minimum amounts due until the situation becomes clearer. The problem is that most of their borrowers are at the bottom of the Sacramento Bay.

The media are now able to deliver detailed maps of what is remaining. All of Folsom is gone, and lands east of Folsom are very unstable. Placerville is on notice for a four-hour evacuation.

The president's secretary paid my hotel bill with her company credit card since mine is exhausted. The hotel is happy to have me since n.o.body else is traveling.

April 30, 2134 Nothing to do but watch the media and read. My eyes are so red from crying I feel ashamed to go out. If I stop at a cafe in town, I will start to cry again. Room service is open only until early evening.

The president's secretary sent a minister from her church to see me. I'm sure he meant well, but n.o.body can give me a word of comfort. What kind of a G.o.d allows terrible things like this to happen?

May 2, 2134 It has been almost two weeks, and I'm still here, alone, in a strange town.

The hotel people have been very kind, especially after the president's secretary paid my bill. This is the slow season, and they are elated to have somebody in one of their best rooms.

The minister returned, with a Catholic priest. Of course, my church is essentially out of business, but there are still a few of the faithful to receive the sacraments. The priest came from Princeton University in Bradford to see me. He spoke very little, but he a.s.sured me G.o.d has a plan for me. He also said he was certain my children are with Our Blessed Mother.

I wish I could have the firm faith I had when I was young. In those days, I accepted whatever happened with a philosophical att.i.tude. Now, I have so much invested in my plans and my dreams that I cannot just turn my life around. I cannot see doors opening. I see only the ones that have closed.

The priest left a pamphlet about the New Christian Congregation's work on Clarkl. I promised I would look it over. Lord knows I have the time.

May 5, 2134 At last the company has allowed me to continue westward, if only in a car.

We have an entirely new list of products, and I have been trying to use some of them in the recipes in the sales brochure.

The wild rice flour is gone. The silos that held the next year's mill supply are under water. I hate losing my best seller.

Of course, most of the wild rice flour is a combination of wheat and buckwheat. The amount of ground wild rice is small, never more than twenty-five percent. But n.o.body will pay premium dollars for wheat mixed with buckwheat without the wild rice.

I always demonstrated it with some cooked wild rice thrown into the batter. Not too soft, of course. Just chewy. Served with some A grade maple syrup, those cakes always produced an order book full of sales.

The company has already filled the orders I submitted for restaurants in Warren, Kane, and Coudersport. I drove by the customer in Kane yesterday and saw those cakes on the menu board. I hate to have to tell people we can't supply the flour for next year.

Tomorrow I will drive to Meadville to see what the college needs.

Where would I be now if Jimmy hadn't resigned, leaving this territory? Running around in Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana was the furthest thing from my mind in January, but some of our best customers are here. The president insisted I take the territory because of its contribution to the bottom line, but it meant leaving the family for two or three weeks every quarter.

I would be swimming in Sacramento Bay with my darlings, that's where I would be.

May 6, 2134 The president's secretary called me to tell me to complete the dependents' life insurance forms. She wants everything filed by May 20, even though the insurance carrier has given us a year.

The college and two large hotels in Meadville are good customers, and they placed the usual orders. I cooked some of the buckwheat and blueberry cakes and added that flour to their orders.

My energy is low, and I told the company I would take my time through Ohio. I'll stay here in Meadville for a few more days. Nothing to rush home for.

The office in Placerville has been torn down, so I have neither a home nor a desk. The building had been standing since the 1850s. Of course, it had never lived through an 8.8 earthquake during the nearly three centuries of its existence.

May 28, 2134 I finally had the energy to look over that pamphlet from the New Christian Congregation. Maybe I should try working on Clarkl for a year or two. A great adventure, with bizarre natives and a freeze-your-a.s.s-off climate.

The pamphlet says they need both chefs and storeroom clerks. I could qualify as either, really. After my graduation from the California Culinary Academy in Sacramento in 2126, I spent three years at the Hyatt in Reno as a sous chef. Then, when Lucille asked me to keep shorter work hours, I took this job, starting at the plant in Davis as an inventory manager.

It was tight for a year, until I was able to get into sales and use my culinary training to actually show people what could be done with the products. After that came the house in Folsom and the two little ones.

All gone now.

June 17, 2134 Working the Akron area this week. The good people here are already our most enthusiastic customers. Lots of disappointment that the wild rice flour will be in short supply.

I am pushing the buckwheat and dried cherry flour now. The amount of time you need to let the buckwheat stand after mixing is just right to get those cherries plumped up a little. Those cakes are very nice with our applesauce syrup or with the chocolate topping. I usually demonstrate them with both, and I find the orders are quickly written.