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Authors: Mary Carmen
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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
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
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