Parable of the Talents

at rest.

It's you,

Me,

Us,

Them,

Struggling upstream

Or drifting down.

Also, perhaps because her mother had died the year before, Irma also seemed touched by this fragment of funeral oration.

We give our dead

To the orchards

And the groves.

We give our dead

To life.

We were an unexpected novelty, and the Elfords were cu­rious about us. They let us wash up in their back bathroom and change into cleaner clothing from our packs. Then they sat us down, fed us a huge meal, and began to ask us ques­tions. Where were we going? Did we have homes? Fami­lies? No? Well, how long had we been homeless? What did we do for shelter in rough weather? Weren't we afraid 'out there'?

I answered for both of us at first, since Len did not seem inclined to talk, and I answered as often with Earthseed verses as with ordinary conversation. It didn't take long for Irma to ask, 'What is it you're quoting from?' And then, 'May I see it? I've never heard of it.' And, 'Is this Bud­dhist? No, I see that it isn't. I very nearly became a Buddhist when I was younger.' She's 37. 'Very simple little verses. Very direct But some of them are lovely.'

'I want to be understood,' I said. 'I want to make it easy for people to understand. It doesn't always work, but I was serious about the effort'

Irma was all I could have hoped for. 'You wrote these? You? Really? Then tell me please, on page 47 ...'

They're quiet, childless, middle-aged people who choose to live in a modest, middle-class neighborhood even though they could afford their own walled enclave. They're inter­ested in the world around them and worried about the direc­tion the country has taken. I could see their wealth in the beautiful, expensive little things they've scattered around their home—antique silver and crystal, old leather-bound paper books, paintings, and, for a touch of the modern, a cover-the-earth phone net system that includes, according to Len, the latest in Virtual rooms. They can have all the sights and other sensations of visiting anyplace on earth or any programmed-in imaginary place, all without leaving home. And yet they were interested in talking to us.

We had to be careful, though. The Elfords may be bored and hungry for both novelty and purpose, but they're not fools. I had to be more open with them than I have been with people like Isis. I told them much of my own story, and I told them what I'm trying to do. They thought I was brave, naive, ridiculous, and... interesting. Out of pity and cu­riosity they let us sleep in the comfortable little guest house at the back of their property.

The next day, when we had painted the fence, they found more small jobs for us to do, and now and then, they talked to us. And they let us talk to them. They never lost interest.

'What will you ask them to do?' Len said to me that night as we settled in again in the guest house. 'You have them, you know, even if they don't realize it yet'

I nodded. 'They're hungry for something to do,' I said, 'starved for some kind of real purpose. I think they'll have some suggestions themselves. They'll feel better if they make the first suggestions. They'll feel in control. Later, I want them to take Allie in. This guest house would be per­fect for her and Justin. When they see what she can do with a few sticks of wood and simple tools, they'll be glad to have her. And I