The Clarkl Soup Kitchens Part 3

Last year's outbreak of love affairs has abated somewhat. We are down to the chef and his various interests, two h.o.m.os.e.xual couples, and one stalker. The stalker is part of my dining room crew, and our new manager is thinking of sending him home. I think he is so old at 62 that he is harmless, but the object of his attentions is not amused.

We had so many string beans this year that we canned enough for at least two more years. It amazes me that some crops are very good one year and very poor another. I believe the weather is uniformly cold year after year, but the farmers a.s.sure me this is not the case.

Water remains constant, though. Most of it comes directly from the polar regions of the planet, gathered in large lakes as the seasons change and piped to the several cities along the planet's equator. We have never had any lack of water, either in the kitchens or on the farms. Even my little hut has running water, both hot and cold.

Another visit this year from our clients, the Batwigs. They never talk to us but, instead, stand in the door and greet their countrymen as they enter. They seem to be taking some kind of a survey.

Of course, we take a survey every day. How many meals were served, what was eaten, what was left over. We have over sixty years of these records, and our reports show that we are increasing our numbers of meals each year.

The new facility was finally approved, but it will be significantly different from the place I imagined. We will have four dining rooms branching off one enormous kitchen. Each dining room will serve a different meal, all day long. Certainly this will be easier for us, but will the crowds spread themselves around? Or have we trained them to expect our breakfast/lunch/dinner routine?

Another change will be that we will need to have a facility for around-the-clock snacks. On the architectural drawings this looks like an old Automat, with little doors that open. No coins will be required, though. Anybody who wants something will be able to drive up in its little one-seater and take small portions of cake or pie or that local tea. Of course, we will need to keep this facility filled at all hours.

December 25, 2143 A very merry Christmas this year. We received extra hut heaters from the American government!

This is the year I owe the kitty $10,000. Yes, an affair! It only lasted four months, but it was the first pa.s.sion I have felt in many years, certainly since the twins were born.

The only thing we had in common was the Tuesday day off, but that was enough. After the courting and the bedding, it cooled quickly, but it was long enough for me to realize I'm not dead. He's off to another woman, and I'm left with only the memories and a reduced bill at the commissary.

The new building is becoming more of a reality. The first poles were driven into the ground in August, and the floor is nearly complete now. I sometimes walk to the building site on my lunch break. Most of the workers are robots, of course, but the Batwigs are in charge.

Nothing ever is done quickly here, it seems. Building projects move slowly, with many, many layers of agreements required. If somebody wants a change higher up, the process for agreements starts afresh. Right now the architectural plans are finalized but the interiors are the subject of discussions at all levels. Whatever do the Monarchs care about it? They rarely enter the present building, and certainly never to take a meal here.

The Fundamentalists are not getting replacements, I understand. People are going home, but others are not coming.

Our own numbers continue to grow. We have about thirty percent more people on the farms than we had when I arrived and about five percent more in the kitchen. The numbers of meals served continues to climb, with fewer Clarklians dying of famine and, consequently, more Clarklians being born. Are all the ent.i.ties who are born becoming our clients? Are only the poor gaining in numbers?

Poor Clarklians are very similar to poor Earthlings. They have patched clothes, bad teeth, and rough skin. However, they do not avoid bathing; public showers are available at nearly every street corner, with soap and warm water. All s.e.xes shower together.

Mrs. Wade wrote that eleven more people from our town have signed the agreements to come to Clarkl for work. She told me my picture in the cookbook was one of the selling points. They will be on a s.p.a.cecraft that arrives in September.

A small interruption to my financial plans this year: the twins are moving to Denver to attend Stanford. I will have to help with the tuition. I still believe I will be just above breakeven when I return to Ohio.

I'm still managing the dining room. We have no extra tables and no extra china, but the buffet line continues to grow. Every day I see new Clarklians, ones I have never seen in our dining room before. I'm not sure where they come from, but the manager says they are surely escapees from the Fundamentalists.

December 25, 2144 Another busy year, with lots of changes.

Patsy got so far behind that the loan company put a lien on my house. I quickly authorized the real estate manager to write a check for the full amount from my account, and now I am back to thinking about my options.

If I stay here an extra year, I will have about $50,000 in my account and all my liabilities paid off. That means I can live on the $30,000 per year from Harry's annuity in a free-and-clear house. Any extraordinary expenses would need to come out of the $50,000. I will have no health insurance until I am 75, approximately fifteen years after I return to Ohio.

If I go home after ten years, I will have about $10,000 in my account and all my liabilities paid off. That's very tight if something goes wrong.

I'm still paying about $10,000 every year for the twins in graduate school. That expense ought to be done with in another year, but they will surely need extra money to help them settle into their jobs.

I'll never be able to get anything from Patsy. I'll probably leave that receivable to be divided among the children when I die. Let them try to squeeze her.

This year brought a little extra money, though. We earned a cash bonus for exceeding our quota of meals served for ten straight quarters, and everybody in the dining room and kitchen crews received $4,000. The farmers received $5,000 each.

The cabbage crop was enormous this year, and we really didn't know what to do with it. The Clarklians are not too fond of cabbage except in cole-slaw, which is very labor intensive. We have machines that chop the cabbage, but they never do a good job with it so it requires handwork before it is mixed. We fixed those cabbage spring rolls, too, but the Clarklians will eat them only to get the pineapple sauce we serve with them. We should just put out the sauce and let them spoon it over rice or potatoes.

The Fundamentalists appear to be nearly out of business. Our manager says they have not met their quota of meals for over three years. Their meeting room was dismantled several months ago, but we never learned why. Our farm is still providing all their produce.

My former admirer has become something of a celebrity here. He now has three lady friends, two on Tuesdays and one on Sat.u.r.day evening. The women all are aware of this situation, and they apparently are willing to put up with his shenanigans.

The ratio of men to women is certainly one reason why he is popular. We have about six women to every four men, and most of the women are over fifty. The men, recruited for farming, tend to be younger.

The Seekers have given us ten robots for use in the dining room. They are very helpful with moving all the tables and chairs, cleaning the floor, cleaning each table and chair, and moving the tables and chairs back into place. I have set them up to work right after we take out the last dish after dinner. By the time we come back in the morning, the dining room is far cleaner than it ever had been when we cleaned it after a long day.

December 25, 2145 I signed on for another year. The twins took the last of my spare cash, after I paid off Patsy's loan, and I decided I would rather have an extra $40,000 to fall back on than a year in warm Ohio.

The Fundamentalists have essentially abandoned their posts. They have a crew of about seventy people left, according to my manager. They had nearly three hundred when I arrived in 2137. All their foods come from either the s.p.a.cecrafts from Earth or our farms. The seventy people are running the kitchen and the dining room.

The new facility is coming along nicely. The automat section is ready, and we have staffed it, in addition to our dining room work. Two people are there for each of the three shifts, and one person is always on duty to drive foods from the kitchen to the new facility, around the clock. Its popularity has grown, and now about ten percent of our food goes into those little compartments. The biggest users are the Drones, of course. They are large and like to eat a number of times each day.

The robots in the dining room are still working well. The Seekers have been watching the dishwashing crew to learn how to create robots to load and unload the dishwasher, and the prototypes are working very well. They are programmed to work with only certain dishes, and they are able to safely set all others aside. Right now the robots are handling about eighty-five percent of the dishes used on the serving line.

The huts were reroofed again this year, and this new roofing certainly keeps out the cold. It is some mixture of copper and platinum, materials that are in abundance here.

The only really good thing about this climate is that human skin ages more slowly. I have no sun spots and certainly no skin cancer. People who have been here for eleven years look almost no older than when they arrived.

About a dozen Monarchs came to the dining room one day this year, for the second time since I came to Clarkl. They toured the kitchen and the new facility, shown around by a few Batwigs. It was like a regal procession, with each Clarklian knowing its place in the line. We stood behind the buffet area, smiling. They never looked toward us. They remain the most hideous of creatures. I am very glad they are not our frequent guests.

A better apple crop this year, to the delight of the Clarklians. I don't know why some years are better for apples, but we were able to dry many pounds of apple chips for use in the future. During that harvest, all days off were canceled, and lunch hours were cut to fifteen minutes. How nice the bags of dried fruit looked when we got them packed into the storeroom! And the kitchen smelled wonderful for several weeks.

We had some good luck with walnuts, too. The Clarklians love them mixed with pumpkin or in waffles.

As of right now, I am scheduled to leave in less than three years. This has been an interesting adventure, but I need to get back to my children and my Molly.

December 25, 2146 Less than two years to go!

This year will be remembered as the year I paid off my mortgage. I had asked the real estate people to make one or two extra payments each year, and in September the final payment was made. Now, I can relax. Even if I am sent home early, as most of the Fundamentalists have been, I have my home free and clear.

The new facility is closer to completion, and we are getting very anxious to occupy it. The kitchen is now very crowded, with the extra automat foods and two new chefs, and my dining room lines grow longer each month. Those Clarklians who had been eating with the Fundamentalists are coming here.

The automat is now attended by robots. Our staff takes food to the building and puts portions onto disposable plates or napkins. Then, the robots put the portions into the compartments. We used to have a system whereby we would put pie in one section and main dishes in another, but that is too complex for these robots right now. Except for tea, which has its own set of compartments and doors, any food can go into any empty compartment. This lack of order has not decreased the use of the automat in any way. It is still very popular, and the robots work continually to refill it. Our drivers who take the food from the kitchen work nonstop, too.

The Drones remain our best customers. They are very friendly, but they are the first to complain if service is not up to their expectations. If pancakes are served without pineapple sauce, we hear the squeals when they point to the serving dish where that sauce usually is kept. If a dish that usually has pecans as a garnish is served without the pecans, it becomes the uproar of the day. It reminds me of my troubles when the twins were young, multiplied by the hundreds of complainers.

My health has remained good for all the years here, but our manager is now having problems with "nerves." The American doctor who has a clinic at the hotel in town, only fifty miles away, has given her some pills and has told her to work fewer hours. She has been taking the pills but she seems to be in the kitchen from sunup until late into the evening, as before.

My own work is somewhat lighter now. I have several good a.s.sistants, and the robots continue to clean the dining room beautifully every night.

Richard Crosslyn's Journal I promised my mother I would keep a journal while I am here on Clarkl, and I'll do my best.

February 27, 2144 we landed near the capitol of Gilsumo, on a high hill. The s.p.a.cecraft was filled with people and cargo, and I was so relieved to get off and stand on terra firma. I waived my arms and jumped a few times to stretch.

You would not believe the number of people on that craft! The Fundamentalists had all of us in little cabins, two or three crammed in together. On the upper decks were larger cabins, and they were filled, too. There was no cabin available during the seven months of the trip, even though I offered the Purser $20,000 to upgrade.

The center of the craft was filled with cargo, mostly food. All this food was going from America to Clarkl for the grocery stores and the charity dining halls, such as the one we are running.

The rich people on the top deck got off first, and then each lower deck in its turn. Finally we reached our deck, and I was able to see the Clarklians starting to unload the food, most of it in large bags. I saw flour, sugar, dried milk, and nuts. I also saw about two hundred citrus trees, each in a large can, wheeled down the gangplank.

We went directly to the compound in a very strange conveyance, a vehicle that resembled a bus but without a top. Waiting there was the Reverend Walters, just as he had said he would be. He threw his arms around me and told me he had been looking forward to my arrival.

About thirty other people were greeted in this way. We formed a party and walked all over the grounds. The Reverend Walters pointed out the cabins, the showers, the commissary cabin, the large kitchen and dining building, and the sanctuary.

How primitive it all is! My own cabin is very austere, with no carpet and only a rag for a curtain. I have a very narrow bed, a card table with two folding chairs, three lamps, and an enclosed half bath. There are plenty of blankets on the bed, but the place is always cold.

That evening, after a very poor dinner of vegetables and pie, the Reverend Walters conducted a service of thanksgiving in the sanctuary. He prayed for the souls of the heathens on Clarkl, and he thanked G.o.d for the good friends who had arrived to help with his mission.

Then, he called the newcomers to come forward to the chancel for a special blessing. He spoke to G.o.d about each person and, when he came to me, he asked G.o.d to guide me to find my life's work and a fruitful purpose for my existence.

That night, I had a great deal of trouble getting to sleep. The room was very cold, and I was not used to sleeping with my face under the electric blanket.

February 28, 2144 I have a week of rest after the journey. I went to the dining room about an hour after the star came up, and I joined the others in the staff lounge for breakfast. No meat, of course, but the waffles were fine. I tried the local tea, but I quickly threw it out and found some English Breakfast reserved for the staff.

So far, the trip has cost me about $15,000. The s.p.a.ceship's uncomfortable room was $10,000, with all the mediocre food I could eat, and the initial donation to the Fundamentalists of Christ was $4,000. In addition, I spent about $1,000 in Omaha for warm clothes, the kind of garments we never can buy in Texas. The steward on the s.p.a.ceship wanted a tip, and he left a convenient envelope for it, but I felt I had already paid too much.

I am comfortable knowing my inheritance is in the good hands of the bankers in Austin. If it grows at three percent a year for each of the two years I have agreed to spend here, I will have over three million extra dollars in the bank.

How far I have come, in both distance and comprehension, since I graduated from college in 2129! I know my mother means well with her constant clamoring about my finding a job, but I am comfortable with my life of introspection. And, of course, since I came into my inheritance from my father in 2137, I have been free from the demands of tiresome employers and unsympathetic creditors.

February 29, 2144 I went into the main street of Overowl today to see what was available. I spent over $500 on some very shoddy goods in the hope that I could fashion a drapery for my only window. The star shines right into my eyes the first thing each day, and I hope I can block it out.

Many curious creatures were there, and I suppose these are our heathens, ready for conversion. Some were dressed in finery and others were huddled in threadbare blankets on the street corners. No one asked me for a handout, but I am sure that will soon come.

I went to both services today, just to get an idea of what will be required. The choir, seven voices strong, sang special numbers and led the hymns. The eight-octave keyboard I was promised is missing an octave, but the organ has three manuals, as advertised. I understand the choir is also self-financed, with only housing and food, such as they are, provided.

The services were spa.r.s.ely attended by the locals, to start with, anyway. After the organ voluntary and the first hymn, nearly all of them filed out, without apology. Very few stayed for the homily, even though it was in their own language. The Reverend Walters spoke softly and slowly into his translation cube, and the loudspeakers broadcasted his words for all the locals to hear.

Today's meals were much like yesterday's, a mixture of common vegetables and pies. The kitchen manager showed me where the staff's stash of nuts is kept, and I added almonds to the green beans. These nuts are the only non-staple that comes from America, and the manager saves all of them for the staff.

March 1, 2144 Before I left Texas, I paid for a deluxe cabin. I understand I am on a waiting list, and there are only five people ahead of me, all members of the choir.

Nearly everybody else here seems to be on a plan whereby they work ten or twelve hours a day and are paid a small monthly amount. This was certainly not offered to me. I was recruited as a missionary, to accompany the services and to live in a deluxe cabin.

I have three more days before my predecessor leaves for the s.p.a.ceport, to return to Indiana or some other small state. She is a lovely woman, of a certain age, and she plays evenly and without much emotion. She has little skill on the organ's pedals, ignoring the ones too far to the left. The locals seem to listen very attentively while she plays.

A little exploration today around the town of Overowl. This place is very small, with a population of about 25,000 locals and 2,000 Americans. It is very near the planet's equator, as are most of the population centers here. To the north, even closer to the equator, is the farm run by the New Christian Congregation. Almost all the vegetables served in our dining room come from that farm, and about 1,500 of the Americans work there.

About two miles away from our camp, just down the road, is one of the New Christian Congregation's dining rooms. It is certainly much larger than ours, and about 50 people work there. I saw long lines of locals in front of the place at two separate times today. The New Christian Congregation has several other dining rooms around the town, all supplied by the farm.

The cabins in back of that dining room are even smaller than our cabins, if it is possible. There are no deluxe cabins there. I saw no meeting room for services there, either.

We are about fifty miles from the capitol, and the only public transport between the two cities is the bus-like vehicle I rode when I arrived. This runs several times a day, but there is no schedule. I am allowed to ride on the bus, but the locals tend to try to move away from me.

On each street corner is a public restroom, complete with showers and toilets. There is no segregation of the many s.e.xes, and there are no private toilets. The two restrooms I have patronized so far have been very clean, and I understand they are automatically hosed down and sterilized every thirty minutes. One half of the restroom closes and folds down into itself, and the other half opens for business while the folded half is cleaned.

Some of the locals are very tall, and some are very short. I understand there are seven types of ent.i.ties, but I am certain I have seen only three. n.o.body was friendly, but tall types with bashed-in heads will occasionally nod as a greeting.

Buzzing by on the road are small one-seat vehicles, driven by the locals. There seems to be no rule about which side they will drive on, so walking on the road requires a certain amount of care. These vehicles are usually entirely enclosed, with a gla.s.s-like bubble on top. I estimate they are traveling about twenty miles an hour at their top speed, but that is enough to get them around this town quickly. We saw none of these vehicles on the main road to Gilsumo, so they may be just town cars.

About noon I stopped at the market, a jumble of stands near the center of the town. People were selling household articles, most of which were very well used. I saw no food for sale. I want a rug for my cabin, but nothing there resembled a rug in any way.

March 3, 2144 I performed at a service today, and my soon-to-depart predecessor helped me with the order. My fugue was well received by the locals, and a few of them nodded in time with the music. The anthem was much too solemn, and the locals started to leave after the second stanza. I threw in a couple of cadenzas between the third and fourth stanza to keep the crowd seated. By the start of the offertory, we were down to two locals, and they did not care much for the quiet Brahms I had selected.

At least I am getting some ideas about which parts of my repertoire are appropriate for keeping the locals at the services. I brought my computer with over 10,000 pieces of music, both sacred and profane, and I certainly will start to rehea.r.s.e some more lively numbers. My excellent predecessor never left the Romantic tradition.

I walked to the New Christian Congregation's dining room after the midday service to see what they were offering. At that hour, the waiting line was down to only two dozen locals, and I told the woman at the reception desk I wanted to look over the buffet line.

The locals were eating on china with what looked like sterling silver!

"Don't you lose things?" I asked the manager, a bedraggled person named Mrs. Newcastle.

She shook her head and said, "The helpers who wash dishes count each piece of silver and each place piece of china every day. We have never lost anything, and the staff members have never dropped even a teacup. We are continually requesting new tableware because we are serving more meals each month."

I looked over the dishes being offered and saw many of the same vegetables we use. The Congregation uses more spices and different combinations of vegetables, though.

"Where is your sanctuary?" I asked.

Mrs. Newcastle told me there was no building for services. On Christmas the staff crowds into the dining room for a few carols.

How clean everything looked there!

March 6, 2144 My predecessor is now gone, off to Madison, Indiana, where she has a call to be the organist for a small baseball field.

I am on my own, now, and even the Reverend Walters is looking forward to the change.

"We need more pep," he said. "The Drones want something snappy, and the Batwigs want a complete Bach oratorio every day."

"With this choir?" I asked, incredulously.

"The Batwigs are the clients," he explained. "They are essentially in charge of our relationship with the Clarklian government. However, we see them at the services only once or twice a year. They come without any warning to evaluate what we are doing. I never know just what evaluation criteria they are using."

"And the Drones?" I asked.

"Ah, we have a great deal of faith that the Drones will be converted. Of course, their continual adultery is something I discuss from the pulpit every day," the Reverend told me.

"Of course," I said.

March 9, 2144 I have spent all my spare time this week working on special numbers. I have been able to program the keyboard to play several voices at the same time, and so far the Drones have appeared to appreciate the Beatles and two Bach toccatas.

Yesterday I played one number just after the sermon. Several Drones, who had left the sanctuary before the sermon, came back and sat at the back of the room while I played.

I wish this choir were better. They try so hard. Five women, two men. One of the men says he is a tenor, but he has terrible trouble reaching E over middle C. All seven of them have difficulty with breathing in this atmosphere.

March 10, 2144 Two services, again, today. The Reverend Walters tends to repeat his sermons every five days, and I am starting to understand why the locals are leaving.