Page 11 of A Better World

“No,” Russell said. “He was mean. Or I guess the truth is that he wasn’t mean to everyone. Just me. Because he hated me.”

“Sorry,” Hip said. “You’re not mean. You’re nice.”

Gruff, chagrined by his own surprise confession, he said, “Thank you, Hip.”

That was all nice and good. A lovefest that made them closer than they’d ever been. But after two months of this, the Farmer-Bowens were done talking. They’d reconnected, like all the banal parenting screenies told them they were supposed to do. Their bodies were rested. The accumulated stress of their old lives had debrided. The slow pace had grown dull. It was time to open door number two.

PLYMOUTH VALLEY GUIDE TO OFFERINGS

As a sign of respect, please remember to regularly clear your altars, replacing offerings at least once a week.

Offering schedule:

Beltane–Samhain:The warm months have arrived! Suitable offerings for June–September include wildflowers, clover, honey, and dried berries. After the crowning, a chill in the air and red in the leaves brings harvest. Ideal offerings include: pomegranates, squashes, root vegetables, pumpkins, sprouts, seasonal fruits, and seeds.

Samhain–Thanksgiving:Increasing cold means more substantial sacrifices! Offerings include fresh eggs, legumes, and grains.

Thanksgiving–The Winter Festival:It’s go time—the meatiest offerings of the year! These include feathers, bones, leather, and meat.

Winter Festival –Beltane:As our days grow in length and lightness, so, too, our offerings. Suitable totems include: valued personal items, children’s toys, homemade drawings, and stuffed animals. Anything that’s fun and loved. In order to facilitate the process, all children in the PV K–12 craft weekly offerings in their art classes. Interested adults and young children can enroll in crafting during these months, at the PV library.

Offering deliveries take place every Saturday. Please notify your quadrant representative if you prefer not to make offerings.

A gentle reminder from the Plymouth Valley Beautification Society

Door Number Two (Competitive Sports)

It was acrisp morning in mid-September. The sun was bright, the clouds few: a perfect day for a soccer game.

Linda and Russell headed out early to get team snacks for the Rocs’ first game. Lust’s Bakery had been open all night and the food smelled like caramelized sugar and yeast. After great deliberation, they picked two dozen yeast-raised donuts plus a thermos of hot tea for the spectators and fresh fruit for the kids.

“Is this good enough?” Russell asked.

Linda shrugged. “I mean, they’re donuts and they’re fresh.”

“What more could anybody want?” he gamely finished.

They came home to find Hip studying a scissor kick instructional on one of the PV-issue devices they’d all been assigned while Josie popped headers against the caladrius shelter. Typical Josie, she poked at things to get reactions. The bird was a miserable creature that they’d sarcastically named Sunny. Sunny spent her time in the back corner of her shelter, a twin set of beady eyes in the dark. If you tried to tempt her out with a dried worm treat, she lunged.

Hello, Sunny! You’re in SUCH Sunny spirits!

While they’d been out, the PV Beautification Society had delivered a package. These came every Saturday, neatly bundled in brown grocery paper tied with Omnium string. Inside: a bouquet of fresh wildflowers.

“Should we try it this time?” Russell asked. The altar was a three-quarter oval carved into the plaster at the stairway’s landing witha Geiger counter mounted inside it, which was supposed to sound in the event of ambient radiation. This seemed to Linda like overkill. If a nuke drops or a reactor melts down, you’re probably not going to be caught off guard by the ambient radiation.

The pamphlets had made very clear that altar offerings were optional. They were supposed to be a fun tradition that fostered a common sense of purpose. But who were they for? Sunny? The gods protecting them from nuclear war? Was it for the people of PV? Did they, in a roundabout way, worship themselves?

“No?” Russell asked.

She plopped the flowers into the vase on the mahogany secretary that came with the house. No altar today. “I’ll get there. But not yet.”

PV could be very confusing. They’d been told that their orientation pamphlets covered every aspect of PV life, but she still wasn’t clear on this town’s rules. For instance: a Beltane King was being crowned next week, but what did that mean? What happened at a crowning? Was there a bureaucratic aspect to a Beltane King’s position?

Last month, they’d had a nuclear drill, the whole town descending designated stairways and entering through the Labyrinth to the inner sanctum. The Civic Association had even gathered the caladrius (Sunny included) and penned them in the underground stockyard. The Farmer-Bowens had played cards for two hours, then gone home with everybody else. But in the event of an actual emergency, were they supposed to pack bags? When did the inner shelter lock? If you were out of town when the alarms sounded, were you shut out for good?

She wasn’t complaining. Life in PV was a step up. Linda hardly ever coughed anymore and because of that, her energy had doubled. The food was great. Hip’s appetite had turned ravenous in the face of so much fresh food. He’d grown two inches. Josie’s acne had healed. Russell, her worrier, hadn’t put any weight back on, but he’d stopped losing it. Everything here was wonderful. They had only one problem. She’d come to understand, through many thwarted efforts, and especially since the kids’ school and her hospital shift had started, that no one here seemed to like them or want to be their friend.

Plymouth Valley killed with kindness. Lots of handshakes in stores, at school drop-off, and at the ultramodern ER. Lots of cheerful hellos, peace signs, and prayer hands waved by pedestrians and drivers alike. Lots of:Don’t you just love it here? Isn’t Plymouth Valley the best thing that’s ever happened to you?But it was a hard, impenetrable kindness that had no tangible outcome. Linda could spend half an hour talking to some nurse or parent or shopkeeper and think:We’re friends! They’re so great! We’re going to hang out all the time!

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