He shoveled the steaming, yellow porridge into his mouth, nodding to Maryann that he was satisfied. She watched him put down two bowls of the suppawn and the three fish, then she ate what was left.
“It must be about time for the whipping,” he said.
“I don’t want to see it. It makes me sick.”
“Nothing says a woman has to go.” And with half a smile to cheer her up, he was out of the tent. Even if he had been squeamish (which he wasn’t), he would have had to be there, as did every male in the village over seven years old. A good whipping could instill almost as much fear of the Lord in the hearts of beholders as in the single heart about which the lash curled.
In the square before the commonhouse, Neil was already strung up to the whipping post. His back was bare. Buddy was one of the last to arrive.
Anderson, with the whip in his hand, stood spraddle legged in readiness. These was just a bit too much stiffness in his stance.. Buddy knew that it must be costing the old man to carry on as though this were no more than an ordinary fiasco, a matter of some twenty lashes.
When Anderson had to whip Buddy or Neil, he meted out the pain impartially—no more and no less than he would have doled out to anyone else for the same offense. His touch was as precise as a metronome. But tonight, after the third stroke, his knees collapsed and he fell to the ground.
There was a gasp from the circle of spectators, then Anderson was on his feet again. The color had run out of his face, and, giving the whip to Buddy, his hand trembled.
“You continue,” he commanded.
If the old man had handed him his Python—or a scepter—Buddy couldn’t have been any more taken aback.
Maryann heard it all from inside the tent, while she licked the pot. When there was a pause after the third stroke, she hoped that might be the end. She understood of course that these things had to be done, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. It wasn’t good manners to enjoy someone else being hurt, even if you didn’t like them.
The whipping started again.
She wished Buddy had left her more food. And now, with the Guernseys all dead, there’d be no more milk!
She tried to think of what she would say when he got home. She decided on “Darling, we are going to have a bundle of joy.”
It was such a nice expression. She had heard it first in a movie a long time ago. Eddie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds had been the stars.
For
Buddy? She wondered if there was a Saint Buddy. She had never heard of one. Perhaps he was a Congregationalist saint.
FOUR
Good-bye, Western Civilization
On 22 August 1979, as per instructions of 4 July 1979, preparations were begun for the incineration of the artifact shown in the maps as “Duluth-Superior.” Meteorological conditions were ideal: for 17 da-vs there had been no rain, scarcely a dampness in the mornings. “Duluth-Superior” was quartered, and each of these Quarters was divided into three Sections, as shown in the accompanying photographs, taken from elevation 133 kms. Action began at 20.34 hours, 23 August 1979.
This artifact was constructed upon numerous low mounds of natural formation, topographically akin to the artifact “San Francisco.” Here, however, the major construction element was wood, which burns quickly. Firing began in the lowest areas of each Section, and the natural updraft of air accomplished almost as much as the firing devices.
With the exceptions of Sections II-3 and Ill-1 near the old lakeshore (here for some reason, the elements of the artifact were larger and constructed of stone and brick instead of wood), complete incineration was achieved in 3.64 hours. When the work in each Quarter had been accomplished to satisfaction, the equipment of that Quarter was transferred to Sections 11-3 and III-1, and these Sections were incinerated by 01.12 hours, 24 August 1979.
There were Iwo mechanical failures in Section IV-3. Appraisal of damages has been sent to the Office of Supplies, and a carbon of that appraisal is enclosed herewith.
Mammals dwelling in the periphery of Quarters I, II, and IV escaped into the adjacent fields due to the insufficiency of equipment and the openness of the terrain. Current estimates are from 200 to 340 of the large mammals, constructors of the artifacts, and from 15,000 to 24,000 of the small mammals, within established limits of probable error.
All wood-burrowing insects were eradicated.
Operations have been begun to trace the escaped mammals and other mammals living beyond the limits of “Duluth-Superior,” but equipment is limited. (Consult Requisition Form 80Q-B: 15 August 1979; 15 May 1979; 15 February 1979.)
Following incineration, ash was leveled into the concavities of the artifact, and seeding operations were begun 27 August 1979.
Based on the results of samples taken from 12 May 1979 to 4 July 1979, this unit then removed to follow a route along the southern shore of “Lake Superior.” (Consult map of “Wisconsin State.”) Sampling had indicated that this area was most densely populated with indigenous mammals.
The obsolete Spheroid Model 37-Mg will be employed for this operation, due to the shortages of Models 39- Mg and 45-Mh. Despite their bulkiness, these models are adequate for the extermination of such mammalian life as they are likely to encounter. Indeed, their therm otropic mechanisms are more highly developed than those of the later models. However, in exceptional circumstances the operation of Model 37-Mg cannot, without undue delay, be assumed by the Central Intelligence Bank of this Unit.
The further process of incineration is expected to proceed less rapidly now that this, the last of the chief artifacts, has been leveled and sown. The remaining artifacts are small and widely spaced. Though our sample has shown that most of these are no longer inhabited, we will, pursuant to instructions of 4 July 1979, effect their entire incineration.
Estimated completion of project: 2 February 1980.
“What do you make of it, my dear?” he asked.
“It’s very beautiful,” she said. “And did you do it just for me?”
“Sweetheart, as far as I’m concerned, you’re the only girl in the world.”
Jackie smiled, her bittersweet smile, the one she reserved for hopeless disasters. She closed her eyes, not to shut out the scene, but because they were very tired, and shook the ash from her short, curling black hair.
Jeremiah Orville closed her in his arms. It wasn’t chilly, but it seemed the right thing to do just then—a traditional gesture, like taking off one’s hat at a funeral. Calmly, he watched the city burn.
Jackie was rubbing her bobbed nose in the scratchy wool of his sweater. “I never really liked that city anyhow,” she said.
“It kept us alive.”
“Of course, Jerry. I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. I just meant—”
“I understand. That’s just my well known sentimentality getting out of hand again.”
Despite the heat and his enclosing arms, she shivered. “We’ll die now. We’ll die for sure.”
“Chin up, Miss Whythe! Tally-ho! Remember the Titanic!”
