From the diary of Maiura DiDonna, missionary trainee

Dear diary, today I reached the mission field. It's a little community near the ruins of Florence, Italy. There was a town called La Destinazione here, but the global earthquake destroyed most of the buildings. People have built their dwellings between the few buildings that are left - they tell me that some are more than a thousand years old! The fields around us are smaller than the ones I am used to, and look more like extended veggie gardens. People here take great pride in their produce

Dear diary, there are not very many people who are undecided here - most everyone who lives here are those who lived nearby two centuries ago before the Rapture, come back to tend their farms and orchards. Just not a lot of young people, although there are some. The elders have shown me some pictures of what it looked like before... There's still a hint of hills here, but the old pictures they've shown me are beautiful, rolling hills between the two Italian seas. The RV I came here with isn't very practical for the narrow roads, but thankfully, the local tractor-repair guy gave me a moped. He said I'd pay for it when I have the money, which was a little odd.

Dear diary, one of the farms here is run by unbelievers! They are struggling a little to trade with their neighbors, but they seem to be doing fairly well given the circumstances. I think I have found my true mission field. They are mostly growing peppers and garlic, although they are doing it in an odd way - about a third of their land is devoted to intentionally doing it wrong. Goes to show, I suppose! I went there and told them that I'd be working with them. They seemed to welcome it.

Dear diary, these people are strange. Not only they waste much of their produce by crippling it, they also seem to be very interested in discredited evolutionary stories. I offered to share Dr. Hovind's videos with them. They agreed, if I would sit and study their odd evolutionary ramblings in return, so I did. Didn't get much out of it, but had a pretty interesting argument with Katia. She told me that what they are doing is called "mutation breeding" and is intended to restore the traditional flavors of this part of Italy. I told her that it doesn't work this way, but a quick talk with the local elders let me know that indeed this place was famous for its strong garlic and pepper flavors before Jesus regenerated the Earth.

Dear diary, the people I am to minister to asked me to pray over the health of the seeds in terraria whose last digit is even. They didn't seem to be mocking me, and asked me in earnest. Maybe I'm making progress. Just to be on the safe side, I will pray over the health of all the seeds in the greenhouse, every night.

Dear diary, I was almost kicked out of the farm today. However, Katia showed up at the meeting, and I got a long and exhasperated lecture on experimental protocol instead. Basically, they were worried that me praying over all the plants ruined their experiment! They don't want to hide their work from me, but it looks like that they've only got some results on the batches that were in the small spare greenhouse. I am told that this is called, not deception, but a double-blind study. Some of the folks I am trying to minister to are angry because they felt that I lied to them - I don't see it - and some are very happy because they have isolated another variable. Seems that isolating variables is a big chunk of the whole point. Katia was very passionate in defending me, although her explanation on experimental methods was a little jumbled.

Dear diary, Grandmother Felicina taught us how to fry garlic in olive oil. This used up almost all the experimental garlic and pepper that we could spare. We used the result instead of butter for last night's steamed vegetables. It tasted very strange and new. Felicina says that we've almost got a decent peperoncino going, although it's not nearly as strong as what she remembers it like. She also said that she'd ask Alicia to make a proper batch of pasta, since now it's worth making again. The people I am working with were so happy and proud! I proposed that they send some of this stuff as an offering to the Temple, and to my surprise, they actually agreed - as soon as the work is done, of course. I haven't made any converts yet, but they are happy to let me preach, and have even sent a couple of volunteers when the community decided to restore the ancient Catholic church. I know that construction work is unbecoming of a lady, so I just helped with the refreshments. Katia went and got her hands dirty, though. We talked about it a little afterwards.

Dear dairy, I am sorry to say it, but I had to leave the unbelievers' farm. No less than Mr. Williams' team is visiting this territory from Jerusalem next week, so, since they want to start selling their produce, they've decided to do a public demo to capitalize on the media exposure. I wanted to help, so I explained how it might be done respectfully, and we argued a little - Mr. Williams will do a meet and greet with the local community leaders, and this being Italy, there will be a feast: the unbelieving farmers wanted to essentially take over the event and make it all about them. Katia again came to my defense, but then, about halfway through.. broke down. I stopped trying to make my point, and followed her to the living quarters, where I found her crying. She first tried to push me off, then hugged me, and opened her heart to me in a most worrying way. It turns out the reason why Katia kept standing up for me, and defended me against some of the others, is that she is in unnatural lust with me. She confessed so herself, although she called it love. I've never had someone declare their love to me before... I explained her about the kinds of love that are allotted to men and women, and she recited the relevant Scripture with me almost in unison, except that she followed by all sort of ancient secular commentary to the contrary. At that point, much as I hate how I felt about it, I had to rebuke her, and she curled up in a heap. I went back to the group, and we discussed it, and... well, overall I think it will be a kindness if I do not tempt and torment her with my presence. Dear Lord, I would like to stop crying, please. I have no unnatural feelings for Katia, but... she was my friend.

Cameron points at the two red pepper fruits that the mop-headed kid, maybe in his or her sixties, has on the table that was added to the feast at the last minute. He had been very happy at the warm and enthusiastic response from the local elders when he announced his visits, and had done research ahead enough to know that he'd be asked to try and taste all the local produce, but didn't expect it to turn into an argument.

"Stop saying 'evolution in action', boy, they're still the same kind, you can see it for yourself - it's a red pepper. Yours look a little smaller, if anything, that's all. I call that de-evolution if anything. You say you exposed this to hardship, yes? Not surprising..."

"Never mind that they can no longer interbreed, I've explained speciation to you already. Just - try them and then tell me that they are still the same thing."

Cameron tries the original red pepper, finding it just as good as that which he was used to, grown near New Jerusalem - unsurprisingly, maybe a little blander. "Nice and nourishing, great on a salad. And that's just all there is to it. Why mess with what's been declared very good?"

"Because it used to be better and it can be made it better. Now try ours."

"Why? I told you, it looks sickly."

"You said you would."

"Oh, all right. I should be polite to my hosts even if some of them aren't." Cameron then bites into the small re-potentiated red pepper, makes a face, and demands water. He's handed white bread, fresh from Alicia's bakery, instead - water and hot pepper don't mix. He throws it on the floor, and demands water again, then finally get it.

"So, are they still the same kind?" The unbeliever kid looks triumphant.

After a good two minutes and a liter of water, a scowl on is face, Cameron stops panting and wheezing. Grandmother Felicina intervenes.

"Now, Mr. Williams, normally you don't just chomp on those. Here, this is a simple pasta recipe that we can now make again - aglio, olio e peperoncino. It's the base sauce for many possible things that can be made. Try this, and clean your palate!"

Cameron sees the pasta dish, looking shiny from the oil, with sauteed pepper speckles on it. And that horrid, mutant produce is supposed to make these better? He doesn't think so, curtly thanks Felicina, and leaves without tasting it. The older woman gently chides the kid for the prank he pulled, and smiles when the kid's answer is that Cameron did evrything himself.

"QED, ladies and gentlemen!" The kid gets on a wooden box and starts a little sideshow-barker act, offering the newly powerful for sale, crushed and in little glass vials. "We're still trying to get our farm on its feet, so we won't sell viable seeds for another year - help us out! However, we've put our research work on a web site, and you can buy a copy of the printout right here." Some of the older people try the pasta samples and nod approvingly.

Before long, the little jars of crushed spicy pepper have almost all been sold. I ask to buy one of the leftovers, and am told that since I helped, it's half price. "Are you sure?"

"Maiura, you did the work with us, you can probably replicate it. In fact, I'd like you to have a copy of the research. Take it with you on your next destination maybe? Either you can replicate it, or someone there can. At this stage it's better to have different varieties, otherwise I'd just give you some seeds."

"I... Thank you, Carlotta. Will you think about what I said for all these months?"

"We have been, yes. In fact, Giuseppe has decided to convert. I asked him to wait until this, well, performance was over before he talked to you about it, and..."

I smile. "You didn't want him to pray with Cameron, fess up."

"He didn't either." I wave at Giuseppe; he's helping our friends pack up. Later on in the day, we pray together, and get on the RV headed north, to Lombardy.

Cameron ends up leaving without trying the pasta, and soon puts the mildly embarassing episode out of his mind.

In the back and on the side, someone makes a note on a portable terminal: it's crude, black and white only, but it's getting better. The operator types on it, "CONFIRMED: The Glorified can be safely incapacitated by biologically produced capsaicin. We have purchased samples and obtained a copy of the research."

A few minutes later, the small solar-powered boat hanging upside down on the sky canopy comes to life for a moment, to deliver the reply.

"Excellent job. Scan it. We can begin preparations for the recombination program."