"Forewarned is forearmed," I said, at once blushing. I was aghast at the militaristic quotation and doubly aghast that it should fly so readily from my lips.
Anger darkened his visage as he stood over me. "We seek harmony in all things, and in all ways. Peace is ours to offer only because we hold it so carefully, preserve it so carefully."
Bowing my head, I recited with him a short drone. A sharp pain stabbed me in the gut, from within, and I belched and tasted bile at the base of my tongue. Still, I made sure to fold my left hand over my right as I prayed, to cover the skinned knuckles and teeth marks I'd gotten by punching my way out of a debate.
The newcomers found more than enough work to do, making places to live, and trying to scrabble out more food. They went about the business of settling in, many contructing houses for themselves with our help, others moving in with Chosen families, still others fanning out across the Shangr? — La Valley. A few who had been miners took their families to outlying farms, but scratching in the dirt differed too greatly from digging in the dirt to suit most of them, and I found on my long circuit walks that many of these became prospectors.
The few consumer products brought by merchants stirred up more greed than they pacified. Earthers used to buying things disliked making them, but there were too few manufactured goods to go around, and, until the Kennicott operation got properly started, virtually no chance of more being imported. And without factories and refineries, neither of which were planned so far as anyone knew, importing would be the only way to get such things during their probably shortened life span on Haven.
Handmade, utilitarian, and harmonious items just weren't as bright and shiny as manufactured consumer goods could be on Earth. Haven's quaintness wore off. Tourism became torture when the newcomers and their families truly understood that they couldn't leave. Enthusiasms for collecting the charming handmade items evaporated when everyone used the things every day. And with more settlers on the way, even the hint of future scarcity was enough to push haggling into hassles and fights.
Theft and nuisance sabotage became, if not commonplace, then at least frequent enough to be considered ignorable. Each time I or other acolytes received such complaints, we promised to carry them to Castell, but I also advised, on my own initiative, increased security on the farms and in the shops. Prevention lessened temptation, I reminded them. We acolytes eventually learned some methods of keeping things safer, and taught those with whom we visited each stroll-period.
One evening Castell turned to me at a communal meal and said, "Our peaceful ways are chafing to those whose tastes run toward depravity."
Anger swelled in me, because I knew he referred to an incident I'd reported to him. While walking past the palisade's town square gate between my home and Castell's house, I had encountered a Chosen woman and a child. Both were crying.
"He touched her, she says," the woman told me, stroking the little girl's head as she hugged it. "Is there nothing to be done? Tell me how to find the harmony in such a vile act." And she ran from me before I could even ask her who had done such a thing.
When Castell heard, he was livid for an instant, then dropped into sudden, disconcerting calm. "The child must visit friends or relatives in the out-farms," he said. "And Chosen children must be in groups of three or more and accompanied by Chosen when inside the fort."
Outrage still roiled in me, but his words held such convincing harmony that I had bowed and crawled out to spread his words on the matter.
It was only the next night that a drunken man slapped an arm around my shoulder in the town square and asked me, with volatile breath and a leer, where he could find the brothel about which he'd heard such exciting things. Earthly corruptions flourished in Haven's miserly environment.
"Keeping our peace separate from their discord does nothing," I told Reverend Castell. "If anything, it weakens our song. Harmony cannot play counterpoint to cacophony and chaos."
Reverend Castell spun towards me and pointed at my face. "How dare you quote Writings to me, who helped my father compose them. How dare you interpret to me what my father and I wrestled into words."
"But you've got to realize that our settlement's fraying at the edges. Reverend, our children are beginning to mock the ethics of their parents, because they see such mockery every day around them."
"Yes, the secular always makes intrusions-"
"Incursions, more like," I said, so frustrated that I wasn't even aware that I'd interrupted him. "The Shangri-La Valley may soon be a bowl of blood."
"Your terms of war begin to try me," Castell said.
"Then I'll speak them no more." And I turned to go.
Having to drop to one's knees to leave a room makes melodramatic exits difficult at best. This was no exception, and before I got my head past his curtains he'd made me laugh by saying, "Oh, get up, for harmony's sake, I can't be expected to sing to your posterior."
Despite my anger, I laughed, and then I returned to my place beside him, and he said, "We must institute town meetings and community votes. Church membership shall be a requirement for voting privileges, but those lone voices who pledge to learn the ways of Harmony will be eligible to serve our cause, and can eventually qualify to join our chorus. Let each of the Chosen choose someone to indoctrinate, and distribute Writings to all who require them.
"And as for you and the acolytes, we must increase their numbers, as well. I charge you, Kev Malcolm, to be Deacon, along with the best two acolytes under your tutelage. For every acolyte choose two Beadles, from the newcomers, young people like yourself." Here his voice lowered and he leaned close to me. "Your new role is protector of the Harmonies. Deacons may decide upon strategies, ensuring their harmony with the Writings, and Beadles shall deploy tactics, to ensure compliance with Writings among the Chosen and the Pledged."
Swallowing hard, I nodded. My palms sweated and itched. My knuckles throbbed, too, and I wondered how much he knew of my many scuffles with disrespectful, resentful Earthers. I dared ask, "Does this mean we must set aside our pacifism?"
"Our church needs a buffer, and the Deacons and Beadles shall provide it," he answered. Then he scowled. "Our pacifism remains, but absolution for necessary lapses among those not yet full church members may be granted; we must always seek harmony, but we may adjust the strength of our voice to compete with the cacophony roaring around us." He put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm asking you to manage a group partly outside our beliefs and convictions, to ensure that we can thrive. In return, you'll be doing a service vital to the survival of the Church of New Universal Harmony."
Part of my mind thought it was a deal with the devil, but my bruises and sore hands argued otherwise, calling it a practical compromise in the face of uncompromising difficulties.
VII
No good deed goes unpunished, they say. In our Writings there is an entire chapter devoted to advice on how to avoid disgusting the infidels we must live among. Much of it is attributed to Benjamin Franklin.
One of the most important pieces of advice is to keep those around you out of debt, for nothing disgusts like owing something. Knowing this from our Writings, I would still have acted as I did when Reverend Castell, the acolytes, and I encountered the drunks.
In the lead, the reverend hummed as his long stride carried him across the town square and into one of the market streets, where goods and services were exchanged. We were on our way to the docks, where the shuttles had been bringing down immigrants, to officially receive the small food plant as a goodwill gift from CoDo reps and Kennicott executives.