The Clarkl Soup Kitchens (18 page)

I am here in
Warren
,
Pennsylvania
, crying my eyes out. The airlines won’t fly further west than
Reno
, and nobody 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 nobody 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 massive 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 assets, 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 nobody 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 café 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 nobody can give me a word of comfort. What kind of a god 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 assured me God 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 attitude. 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 nobody 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-ass-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.

Buckwheat is going to be in good supply, with mid-western producers. We will use cherries from the
Carolinas
.

Can’t get people hooked on what we are short of. They’ll try to find things elsewhere and may change brands for other products, too.

July 8, 2134
– Spending the week around
Springfield
,
Ohio
. These people are very warm, anxious to talk about the big quake. I have a hard time keeping my composure, but it has been nearly a month since I cried in public.

There are problems with the insurance, it appears. I had signed up for all I could buy, and the company is wondering why.

Because I come from a long line of worriers, that’s why! Our family probably kept the term life insurance carriers in business. We bought lots of insurance and lived a long time. Until this April, my relatives have always lasted at least ninety years.

Is the company assuming I had something to do with this quake? I am outraged!

July 17, 2134
– There’s still no place for me in
Placerville
. The company is “rethinking its
California
business plan,” according to the message from the president.

Hell’s bells! There’s nothing to think about! The legislature of
California
is scurrying around, trying to come up with a scheme to save the state’s credit rating. We just need to develop other suppliers and other markets until the dust settles.

Meanwhile, I’m still writing orders in
Ohio
. These people are big on the high-protein wheat flour and pasta. They say a dinner with a roast is only a memory, and the main dish now is very likely to be something from our pasta-and-fake-cheese line. Buckeyes say our fake cheese, Gheddar, is much better than the General Mills fake cheese, Monterey Jill.

Developed cheese. That’s the euphemism. Keeping it on the tip of my tongue.

California
is planning a big memorial service in September. I am thinking about that empty plot in the cemetery in
Fresno
. I would like to erect a nice stone with the names of my parents, my wife, and my children. I’ll put my own name next to Lucille’s and have the mason stand it next to my grandparents. Then, that plot will be waiting for me. I hope they will look down and smile.

Nothing has been recovered, of course. Probably all out to sea. The floor of the
Sacramento
Bay
is washed to the
Pacific Ocean
twice a day. My house is now about a half mile from the shore, under at least twenty feet of water.

July 28, 2134
– The president has called a special all-hands meeting for tomorrow. There is bad news. He never sees anybody unless there is trouble.

I think he believes it is his responsibility to look people in the eye. You are fired. You are demoted. You were passed over. These are his only topics when he calls you. Pick one.

I’ll call in from my videophone. He will have about three hundred video calls and about a thousand people in the auditorium. And a large number of ghosts.