To Your Scattered Bodies Go

Later, the tobacco-hater had staggered up and, weeping with rage, cried, "What have I done to deserve this, O Lord, my God! I have always been a good man. I gave thousands of Pounds to charities, I worshipped in Thy temple three times a week, I waged a lifelong war against sin and corruption, I . .

"I know you!" a woman had shouted. She was a tall blue-eyed 62 girl with a handsome face and well-curved figure. "I know you! Sir Robert Smithson!"

He had stopped talking and had blinked at her. "I don’t know you!"

"You wouldn’t! But you should! I’m one of the thousands of girls who had to work sixteen hours a day, six and a half days a week, so you could live in your big house on the hill and dress in fine clothes and so your horses and dogs could eat far better than I could! I was one of your factory girls! My father slaved for you, my mother slaved for you, my brothers and sisters, those who weren’t too sick or who didn’t die because of too little or too bad food, dirty beds, drafty windows, and rat bites, slaved for you. My father lost a hand in one of your machines, and you kicked him out without a penny. My mother died of the white plague. I was coughing out my life, too, my fine baronet, while you stuffed yourself with rich foods and sat in easy chairs and dozed off in your big expensive church pew and gave thousands to feed the poor unfortunates in Asia and to send missionaries to convert the poor heathens in Africa. I coughed out my lungs, and I had to go a-whoring to make enough money to feed my kid sisters and brothers. And I caught syphilis, you bloody pious bastard, because you wanted to wring out every drop of sweat and blood I had and those poor devils like me had! I died in prison because you told the police they should deal harshly with prostitution. You… you…!"

Smithson had gone red at first, then pale. Then he had drawn himself up straight, scowling at the woman, and said, "You whores always have somebody to blame for your unbridled lusts, your evil ways. God knows that I followed His ways." He had turned and had walked off, but the woman ran after him and swung her grail at him. It came around swiftly; somebody shouted; he spun and ducked. The grail almost grazed the top of his head.

Smithson ran past the woman before she could recover and quickly lost himself in the crowd. Unfortunately, Ruach said, very few understood what was going on because they couldn’t speak English.

"Sir Robert Smithson," Burton said "If I remember correctly, he owned cotton mills and steelworks in Manchester. He was noted for his philanthropies and his good works among the heathens. Died in 1870 or thereabouts at the age of eighty."

"And probably convinced that he would be rewarded in Heaven," Lev Ruach said. "Of course, it would never have occurred to him that he was a murderer many times over."

"If he hadn’t exploited the poor, someone else would have done so."

"That is an excuse used by many throughout men’s history," Lev said "Besides, there were industrialists in your country who saw to it that wages and conditions in their factories were improved. Robert Owen was one, I believe."

10

"I don’t see much sense in arguing about what went on in the past," Frigate said. "I think we should do something about our present situation."

Burton stood up. "You’re right, Yank! We need roofs over our heads, tools, God knows what else! But first, I think we should take a look at the cities of the plains and see what the citizens are doing there." At that moment, Alice came through the trees on the hill above them. Frigate saw her first. He burst out laughing. "The latest in ladies" wear!" She had cut lengths of the grass with her scissors and plaited them into a two-piece garment. One was a sort of poncho which covered her breasts and the other a skirt which fell to her calves.

The effect was strange, though one that she should have expected. When she was naked, the hairless head still did not detract too much from her femaleness and her beauty. But with the green, bulky, and shapeless garments, her face suddenly became masculine and ugly.

The other women crowded around her and examined the weaving of the grass lengths and the grass belt that secured the skirt.

"It’s very itchy, very uncomfortable," Alice said. "But it’s decent. That’s all I can say for it"

"Apparently you did not mean what you said about your unconcern with nudity in a land where all are nude," Burton said.

Alice stared coolly and said, "I expect that everybody will be wearing these. Every decent man and woman, that is."

"I supposed that Mrs. Grundy would rear her ugly head here," Burton replied.

"It was a shock to be among so many naked people," Frigate said. "Even though nudity on the beach and in the private home became commonplace in the late "80’s. But it didn’t take long for everyone to get used to it. Everyone except the hopelessly neurotic, I suppose."