I woke up for breakfast call. I had slept in the guest quarters, which at one time was a dormitory room for the students. From what I had heard, this had been a girls' school. The plague had changed things, and now this was the headquarters of a priest trying to rebuild American civilization.
I went to the dining room with the Father Feretti and the senior staff. Breakfast was simple; just bread and water.
"Do you ever have milk or orange juice?" I asked.
"We need to trade lots of potatoes and lettuce to get milk from the Central Valley dairy farms," said Lee. "Milk is a luxury. As for orange juice, we'd need oranges, and the only way we can get oranges is to trade with a caravan."
"Well, bread and water is fine," I said. "It's a lot healthier than Doritos."
"What's that?" asked Deana.
"They're tortilla chips dusted with dried powdered cheese. I would always grab a supply of Doritos just before leaving the world."
"I remember those," said Father Feretti. "Almost all of the world's supply of Doritos ran out a year after the plague. Nonperishable foods are a luxury. The three cities are experimenting with food preservation. You know, we have in our library many books about jarring or canning foods; we just do not have the equipment for it."
"You know, Colin," said Lee, "it was food surpluses which led to trade. Thousands of years ago, options to preserve food was limited. Obviously, food growers could not eat all of the food, and most of what they did not eat would spoil. So they traded with others who did not have much food in exchange for goods and services."
"Thanks for the history lesson, Lee. You know, it's too bad I did not bring history books from other universes. You would definitely be occupied."
I spent the morning doing various chores the priest had assigned to me. I started off by dusting the furniture and sweeping floors, something I had become an expert at in the past two years of sliding. After that chore was done, I was assigned to go into the field and pull the weeds. I noticed that the fields were divided into strips, and each strip had a different crop growing. Apparently, the people here read about crop rotation and practiced it. Having grown up in a small town near farmland, I knew a great deal about crop rotation. After removal of the weeds, I then had to water each of the crops by hand. I wondered if there were less labor-extensive methods of farming, perhaps some existed in the Central Valley. Of course, the school's methods of farming require a lot of labor, which explained why they were willing to accept me.
Then lunch was served. It was the standard lunch-boiled potatoes and carrots, with boiled water as the beverage. The food was bland, as spices were not available, but at least it kept me from going hungry.
My afternoon duty was not working on the farm or cleaning the place. I was to accompany Deana who was assigned to go to the market in Golden Gate Park. The school was out of herbs, and there was less grain than expected, so Father Feretti decided that some of the surplus crops should be traded.
We had to gather potatoes and carrots and radishes and put them in sacks. We also took clay jugs filled with boiled water. Deana put the stuff in a side pack that a black horse was wearing. I noticved Deana was wearing a scarf around her head, and she wore Levis' jeans and a denim jacket.
"This is Swift Wind," she said. "We got him from the racetrack about eight years ago. Are you familiar with horses?"
"Yes," I replied. "I grew up around horses."
I then noticed a little boy climb into the driver's seat of a car parked on the grounds of the school, a blue Chevrolet Caprice. I went over to the boy.
"Whatcha doin'?" I asked.
"I'm driving," said the boy. "The grown ups say that people used to drive these. They could move on their own without anyone to pull it."
"Maybe you'll get to drive when you get older."
"I heard there are people in the east who get to drive."
"Well, have fun." I went back to Swift Wind.
"That car was Father Feretti's," said Deana. "It kept running for three years after the plague. Finally, there was no more gas anywhere nearby, and a canister of gas costs a lot of potatoes. The kids like to take care of it, though. It gives them something to do besides cleaning the place and taking care of the crops."
"Shall we go?" I asked.
"Just hop on."
So I did. I got on Swift Wind and sat right behind Deana. She guided the horse out of the school grounds and the horse walked along the streets of San Francisco.
It took about half an hour to reach Golden Gate Park. Considerting the poor condition of San Francisco's streets and the obstacles on the streets which included wrecked buses and trolleys, horses were faster than cars.
We finally reached Golden Gate Park. there were handwritten signs guiding us to the market. We saw the market even before we got within a hundred feet. There were booths and kiosks with merchants willing to trade their goods. I also saw a bus, which was once used as public transportation in the city, and was now permanently parked to provide shelter. I felt a strong breeze blow; I could see the branches of trees swaying.
As I got closer, I could see a whole bunch of people there. Some of them were trading in crops, others were trading with factory-made goods from before the plague, and some were trading with hand-made goods. Some people stood brandishing shotguns and wearing flak jackets. At the center of the market was a statue of a man. A plaque identified the statue as being in the likeness of Stephen Douglas. Deana told me he was President of the United States over one hundred years ago.
"Hello," Deana said to a young lady. "I'd like to have some of those spices. I'll give you a whole sack of potatoes."
"How about potatoes and carrots," replied the young lady. "I need Vitamin A, you know."
I watched as Deana haggled with the customers. I saw a booth where a man was selling grapes from Napa. His grapes must be popular with the people of San Francisco, as people were given sacks of potatoes and carrots and lettuce and cucumbers for them. Some of them even gave him pre-plague canned goods.And there was a booth where homemade liquor was being traded. Liquor was popular too, apparently more so than grapes.
Then I heard a rumbling sound. It sounded like motor vehicles. "What is that?" I asked.
"Probably a trade caravan," said Deana. "Aside from the bosses of the three cities, they are the only ones in California who have access to working motor vehicles. They travel all around the state, trading in goods."
I looked at the approaching motor vehicles. One of them was a green four-door sedan with the Ford logo in the front. The others were vehicles which had once been used by the U.S. military.
"Is that the trade caravan?" I asked.
"No, trade caravans use wagons and pickup trucks to haul goods," said Deana. "That's the boss of Sacramento. He's come to collect his share."
I saw the green car come to a stop. Soldiers came out of the military vehicles brandishing automatic rifles. I noticed that most of them were just teenagers. Then I saw some people come out of the green car. They were all dressed in suits. I saw this red-haired young man step out, dressed in a three-piece suit. The coat, pants, and vest were black, and the necktie was a bright red. This fellow must be the boss of Sacramento.
"Good afternoon, sir," said a young man who apparently ran the Golden Gate Park market. "We are honored to have you here."
"I've come to collect my share," he said. "Show me what you have."
I saw the boss and his people go over to the back of a Ford F-150 pickup truck where the market owners gathered their share of goods.They were having a discussion. I casually walked over within an earshot of the boss.
"Must you take such a big share?" asked the market owner.
"If you want to run a market in my domain, you have yo pay your share to me," said the boss. "If you don't like it here, you can move to Nevada. I'll even give you a ride in one of my motor vehicles; the Interstate is still in fairly good condition."
"Well, okay," said the market owner, grudgingly. "It's just that when you take such a big share, I have to take a big share from the traders just to compensate the security, let alone have enough to eat for myself and my family. And the larger share I take from the traders, the less trade that happens in the market."
"Well, it was I who acquired for you a fine woman to bear your children. You should be grateful to me."
I looked around. None of the shoppers here were making eye contact with the boss. From what I could tell, none of them wanted the boss to notice them.
Then from the corner of my eye, I noticed him and some of the soldiers walking in my direction.I wondered if I caught their attention. then they walked past me.
"Hello, there, fair lady," I heard the boss say.
I turned, and saw the boss talking to Deana.
"May I ask who you are?" she asked.
"My dear, I am the Governor of California."
I looked and I noticed the soldiers all had an emblem on their right sleeve, that of the California flag with its grizzly bear.
"Who elected you?" asked Deana.
"We haven't gotten around to elections yet, I'm afraid. There is still much to do before we can set up a framework for elections. But I must say, how is it that such a fair beauty as yourself escaped the notice of my men? I suppose this is because it is the frontier."
"Well, thank you for your compliment, sir. I must take these back."
One of the soldiers stood in her path. "I want you to come with me to Sacramento. I could use a fine-looking lady like you," said the boss.
"I must refuse."
Three of the soldiers suddenly restrained her. I went up to them.
"Nobody refuses the Governor of California," said the boss. "You see, I created and maintained order, which is why we have not been reduced to hunting and gathering like people in other places. In return, I require tribute. You shall be tribute to me."
I walked up to the so-called governor. "She said no," I said tom him. "She doesn't want to go with you."
Then one of the soldiers hit me with the butt of the M-16 rifle. I fell and clutched my stomach.
"Because I am in a good mood today," said the boss, "I will not kill you. This is my domain, and I get a share of its produce, whether it be wheat, marijuana, or women."
I saw the soldiers drag Deana to the green car and then shove her into the trunk. The trunk's led was shut.
The boss went over to the pickup truck which contaioned the goods he collected from the market. He proceeded to give some of them back to the market owner.
"Because I found a jewel for my own personal use," he said, "I shall give you back some of these goods. I am not entirely without generosity."
"Thank you, sir," said the market owner.
The boss went inside the green car. The car and the military vehicles escorting it all left Golden Gate Park.
I approached the market owner. "Why didn't you do anything?' I asked him.
"Look, pal," he replied. "He allows me to operate here in exchange for my cooperation. If I oppose him, the market will be shut down and what will happen to the people living here?"
I did not reply. I got onto Swift Wind and rode back to Our Lady of Refuge. After a few minutes of the horse galloping thorugh the streets of San Francisco, I finally reached the high school. I got off Swift Wind and headed inside the administration building; I quickly found Father Feretti.
"Father Feretti!" I shouted. "I...some people from Sacramento took Deana. They put her into the trunk of a car. We've got to do something."
"There's nothing we can do, Colin," said the priest, "except to pray to Jesus that she'll survive this ordeal."
"Can't we gather a posse and head for Sacramento?"
"And do what? Try to rescue her in a firefight? These are not bandit gangs we are dealing with here; this is the boss of Sacramento. He has raised a huge army. The bosses of the three cities will kill anyone they think poses a threat to their power. It is unfortunate that Deana was taken; unfortunately, those societies view women as mere chattel to be used."
"I'm not going to abandon her."
And that was a fact.
I went to the dining room with the Father Feretti and the senior staff. Breakfast was simple; just bread and water.
"Do you ever have milk or orange juice?" I asked.
"We need to trade lots of potatoes and lettuce to get milk from the Central Valley dairy farms," said Lee. "Milk is a luxury. As for orange juice, we'd need oranges, and the only way we can get oranges is to trade with a caravan."
"Well, bread and water is fine," I said. "It's a lot healthier than Doritos."
"What's that?" asked Deana.
"They're tortilla chips dusted with dried powdered cheese. I would always grab a supply of Doritos just before leaving the world."
"I remember those," said Father Feretti. "Almost all of the world's supply of Doritos ran out a year after the plague. Nonperishable foods are a luxury. The three cities are experimenting with food preservation. You know, we have in our library many books about jarring or canning foods; we just do not have the equipment for it."
"You know, Colin," said Lee, "it was food surpluses which led to trade. Thousands of years ago, options to preserve food was limited. Obviously, food growers could not eat all of the food, and most of what they did not eat would spoil. So they traded with others who did not have much food in exchange for goods and services."
"Thanks for the history lesson, Lee. You know, it's too bad I did not bring history books from other universes. You would definitely be occupied."
I spent the morning doing various chores the priest had assigned to me. I started off by dusting the furniture and sweeping floors, something I had become an expert at in the past two years of sliding. After that chore was done, I was assigned to go into the field and pull the weeds. I noticed that the fields were divided into strips, and each strip had a different crop growing. Apparently, the people here read about crop rotation and practiced it. Having grown up in a small town near farmland, I knew a great deal about crop rotation. After removal of the weeds, I then had to water each of the crops by hand. I wondered if there were less labor-extensive methods of farming, perhaps some existed in the Central Valley. Of course, the school's methods of farming require a lot of labor, which explained why they were willing to accept me.
Then lunch was served. It was the standard lunch-boiled potatoes and carrots, with boiled water as the beverage. The food was bland, as spices were not available, but at least it kept me from going hungry.
My afternoon duty was not working on the farm or cleaning the place. I was to accompany Deana who was assigned to go to the market in Golden Gate Park. The school was out of herbs, and there was less grain than expected, so Father Feretti decided that some of the surplus crops should be traded.
We had to gather potatoes and carrots and radishes and put them in sacks. We also took clay jugs filled with boiled water. Deana put the stuff in a side pack that a black horse was wearing. I noticved Deana was wearing a scarf around her head, and she wore Levis' jeans and a denim jacket.
"This is Swift Wind," she said. "We got him from the racetrack about eight years ago. Are you familiar with horses?"
"Yes," I replied. "I grew up around horses."
I then noticed a little boy climb into the driver's seat of a car parked on the grounds of the school, a blue Chevrolet Caprice. I went over to the boy.
"Whatcha doin'?" I asked.
"I'm driving," said the boy. "The grown ups say that people used to drive these. They could move on their own without anyone to pull it."
"Maybe you'll get to drive when you get older."
"I heard there are people in the east who get to drive."
"Well, have fun." I went back to Swift Wind.
"That car was Father Feretti's," said Deana. "It kept running for three years after the plague. Finally, there was no more gas anywhere nearby, and a canister of gas costs a lot of potatoes. The kids like to take care of it, though. It gives them something to do besides cleaning the place and taking care of the crops."
"Shall we go?" I asked.
"Just hop on."
So I did. I got on Swift Wind and sat right behind Deana. She guided the horse out of the school grounds and the horse walked along the streets of San Francisco.
It took about half an hour to reach Golden Gate Park. Considerting the poor condition of San Francisco's streets and the obstacles on the streets which included wrecked buses and trolleys, horses were faster than cars.
We finally reached Golden Gate Park. there were handwritten signs guiding us to the market. We saw the market even before we got within a hundred feet. There were booths and kiosks with merchants willing to trade their goods. I also saw a bus, which was once used as public transportation in the city, and was now permanently parked to provide shelter. I felt a strong breeze blow; I could see the branches of trees swaying.
As I got closer, I could see a whole bunch of people there. Some of them were trading in crops, others were trading with factory-made goods from before the plague, and some were trading with hand-made goods. Some people stood brandishing shotguns and wearing flak jackets. At the center of the market was a statue of a man. A plaque identified the statue as being in the likeness of Stephen Douglas. Deana told me he was President of the United States over one hundred years ago.
"Hello," Deana said to a young lady. "I'd like to have some of those spices. I'll give you a whole sack of potatoes."
"How about potatoes and carrots," replied the young lady. "I need Vitamin A, you know."
I watched as Deana haggled with the customers. I saw a booth where a man was selling grapes from Napa. His grapes must be popular with the people of San Francisco, as people were given sacks of potatoes and carrots and lettuce and cucumbers for them. Some of them even gave him pre-plague canned goods.And there was a booth where homemade liquor was being traded. Liquor was popular too, apparently more so than grapes.
Then I heard a rumbling sound. It sounded like motor vehicles. "What is that?" I asked.
"Probably a trade caravan," said Deana. "Aside from the bosses of the three cities, they are the only ones in California who have access to working motor vehicles. They travel all around the state, trading in goods."
I looked at the approaching motor vehicles. One of them was a green four-door sedan with the Ford logo in the front. The others were vehicles which had once been used by the U.S. military.
"Is that the trade caravan?" I asked.
"No, trade caravans use wagons and pickup trucks to haul goods," said Deana. "That's the boss of Sacramento. He's come to collect his share."
I saw the green car come to a stop. Soldiers came out of the military vehicles brandishing automatic rifles. I noticed that most of them were just teenagers. Then I saw some people come out of the green car. They were all dressed in suits. I saw this red-haired young man step out, dressed in a three-piece suit. The coat, pants, and vest were black, and the necktie was a bright red. This fellow must be the boss of Sacramento.
"Good afternoon, sir," said a young man who apparently ran the Golden Gate Park market. "We are honored to have you here."
"I've come to collect my share," he said. "Show me what you have."
I saw the boss and his people go over to the back of a Ford F-150 pickup truck where the market owners gathered their share of goods.They were having a discussion. I casually walked over within an earshot of the boss.
"Must you take such a big share?" asked the market owner.
"If you want to run a market in my domain, you have yo pay your share to me," said the boss. "If you don't like it here, you can move to Nevada. I'll even give you a ride in one of my motor vehicles; the Interstate is still in fairly good condition."
"Well, okay," said the market owner, grudgingly. "It's just that when you take such a big share, I have to take a big share from the traders just to compensate the security, let alone have enough to eat for myself and my family. And the larger share I take from the traders, the less trade that happens in the market."
"Well, it was I who acquired for you a fine woman to bear your children. You should be grateful to me."
I looked around. None of the shoppers here were making eye contact with the boss. From what I could tell, none of them wanted the boss to notice them.
Then from the corner of my eye, I noticed him and some of the soldiers walking in my direction.I wondered if I caught their attention. then they walked past me.
"Hello, there, fair lady," I heard the boss say.
I turned, and saw the boss talking to Deana.
"May I ask who you are?" she asked.
"My dear, I am the Governor of California."
I looked and I noticed the soldiers all had an emblem on their right sleeve, that of the California flag with its grizzly bear.
"Who elected you?" asked Deana.
"We haven't gotten around to elections yet, I'm afraid. There is still much to do before we can set up a framework for elections. But I must say, how is it that such a fair beauty as yourself escaped the notice of my men? I suppose this is because it is the frontier."
"Well, thank you for your compliment, sir. I must take these back."
One of the soldiers stood in her path. "I want you to come with me to Sacramento. I could use a fine-looking lady like you," said the boss.
"I must refuse."
Three of the soldiers suddenly restrained her. I went up to them.
"Nobody refuses the Governor of California," said the boss. "You see, I created and maintained order, which is why we have not been reduced to hunting and gathering like people in other places. In return, I require tribute. You shall be tribute to me."
I walked up to the so-called governor. "She said no," I said tom him. "She doesn't want to go with you."
Then one of the soldiers hit me with the butt of the M-16 rifle. I fell and clutched my stomach.
"Because I am in a good mood today," said the boss, "I will not kill you. This is my domain, and I get a share of its produce, whether it be wheat, marijuana, or women."
I saw the soldiers drag Deana to the green car and then shove her into the trunk. The trunk's led was shut.
The boss went over to the pickup truck which contaioned the goods he collected from the market. He proceeded to give some of them back to the market owner.
"Because I found a jewel for my own personal use," he said, "I shall give you back some of these goods. I am not entirely without generosity."
"Thank you, sir," said the market owner.
The boss went inside the green car. The car and the military vehicles escorting it all left Golden Gate Park.
I approached the market owner. "Why didn't you do anything?' I asked him.
"Look, pal," he replied. "He allows me to operate here in exchange for my cooperation. If I oppose him, the market will be shut down and what will happen to the people living here?"
I did not reply. I got onto Swift Wind and rode back to Our Lady of Refuge. After a few minutes of the horse galloping thorugh the streets of San Francisco, I finally reached the high school. I got off Swift Wind and headed inside the administration building; I quickly found Father Feretti.
"Father Feretti!" I shouted. "I...some people from Sacramento took Deana. They put her into the trunk of a car. We've got to do something."
"There's nothing we can do, Colin," said the priest, "except to pray to Jesus that she'll survive this ordeal."
"Can't we gather a posse and head for Sacramento?"
"And do what? Try to rescue her in a firefight? These are not bandit gangs we are dealing with here; this is the boss of Sacramento. He has raised a huge army. The bosses of the three cities will kill anyone they think poses a threat to their power. It is unfortunate that Deana was taken; unfortunately, those societies view women as mere chattel to be used."
"I'm not going to abandon her."
And that was a fact.
