“Frida and Cal,” Micah said, lowering his voice to address them. “Stand up, so that everyone can see you.”
Frida was on her feet before Cal could even compute the request. She pulled him up to join her, and Cal finally took in the congregation. The Church was crowded with people, more than just the ones he’d seen earlier, probably fifty or sixty. They were sitting in the pews or standing by the open door. Those sitting by the lights were already soaked in sweat; Cal himself could feel the wetness under his arms and at his forehead.
Some of the people were grinning at him; others were nodding solemnly. He caught Fatima’s eye, and she raised both eyebrows in a goofy way. When he tried to make eye contact with Peter, he just looked through him. Cal shrugged and looked away.
No one was elderly. No one was very young.
It hit him all at once. There were no children. Not one.
“Where are the kids?” he whispered to Frida.
She sat down as if she hadn’t heard him.
“I know this situation isn’t to be taken lightly,” Micah said. “I don’t expect any favors.” He rubbed his hands together. “We will bring their presence here to a vote. Believe me, we will.”
If the Land voted against their presence, Cal wondered, would he and Frida cease to exist?
“But, in the meantime,” Micah continued, “I’d like to have them stay here, just until a decision is reached.”
Now that Cal had already seen the crowd, he couldn’t help but turn around to witness their reactions to Micah’s request. He half expected someone, Dave, maybe, or Peter, to stand up with a pitchfork and demand the outsiders leave. It would make sense; Frida and Cal’s presence expanded a community that wanted to remain the same size.
He wanted to stand up and say, Do what you want. We’re happy to leave. He wouldn’t, of course. And, anyway, Frida didn’t agree with him.
“Is that all right with everyone?” Micah said.
Cal had to grab on to the back of the pew when the women sitting behind him held up their fists in response to Micah’s questions. They moved them back and forth, as if their hands were hinged, as if they were knocking on invisible doors.
Just like at Plank. The way they’d expressed approval, whether they were cleaning horse stalls or discussing Roland Barthes in seminar. Why was the Land mimicking that knock? Micah had clearly taught them that signal of approval; or had some of them already known it?
He began feverishly looking around the room at the other men’s faces. Did he recognize anyone? Except for Micah, he hadn’t seen any of his classmates since the day he’d left Plank. What if they were here, and he could talk to them again? What did that mean? A ghost town that lived up to its name.
But he didn’t see any Plankers. Strangers stared back at him, and his new startling hope flew, startled, out of him.
A couple of people weren’t knocking, he realized. They held up their index and middle fingers—Plank’s signal for disagreement. He turned back to Micah.
“Please come speak to me individually afterward if you don’t agree,” he said.
To Cal’s surprise, none of the dissenters stood up to protest. This was a civilized bunch. That, or Micah had power over them. Maybe here on the Land, democracy was merely dress up, merely a dance. They had the stage lights for it.
“I promise,” Micah said, “we’ll vote on this very soon.” He smiled. “Until then, I urge you to get to know Frida and Cal. I’ll be putting them on the Labor schedule. They’ve been living on their own out here, so they’re strong, and resourceful.”
Cal realized Micah was serious. They’d been welcomed, albeit temporarily, to this place, just as Frida had hoped, and he had feared. They’d be put to work, which was clearly important here; Micah was already discussing the Morning Labor controversy. Cal and Frida would become part of this world. Frida would be pleased. Cal wasn’t sure what he felt. They had squash back home that would soon need picking and a bed more comfortable than the sack of straw Micah had given them and a house that fit the two of them, a third when the time came. If Frida ate enough, their baby would be healthy. August could bring them special goods, if needed. Clearly, the Land had access.
Maybe that’s what troubled him. This wasn’t a ghost town at the edge of the world. They were connected to something larger.
After the meeting, they ate more of the same bean soup in the dining room with about thirty others. The Land dined in two shifts, Micah explained, and some, if they were too hungry to wait, prepared simpler meals in their own houses. The room was lit with candles and a single solar lamp, far brighter than the ones Cal and Frida used.
Once they were seated, Cal asked Micah, “So does everyone here know about Plank?”
Micah shrugged. “About as many as in the real world. Which is to say not many.”
“But the fist knocking…”
“You noticed?”