Soon: Chapter 31: Human Fishy Christian Things
Paul is heading off to find the Fishers of Men, but first he has to express his displeasure of Tiny’s wealth:
Although it was not yet six when he emerged from the house, the gushing hundred-foot tower of water from Allendo’s garish gold fountain sent a light spray teasing over his head and face. Paul felt as if he were being spit upon.
Actually, that sounds pretty refreshing, considering that it’s late June in southern California, but what do I know?
It was hard to pinpoint what was most distasteful about Tiny Allendo, amid all his wretched excesses, but the fountain had to be close to the top of the list.
U jealous, bro?
Paul had to admit that being waited on hand and foot and having your car parked and brought to you were nice perks. But it wasn’t real life. Who lived like this? People who didn’t deserve to, he decided.
BASED ON WHAT, PAUL? Exactly why does Tiny not deserve to spend his money in the way he sees fit? You want to make this a Christian thing? Well, Tiny doesn’t even know the truth about the raid.
It’s jealousy. Honestly, that’s about all I can come up with, here. Tiny is a successful person. He makes movies that are wildly popular, even if Paul doesn’t happen to like them.
Aren’t RTCs supposed to be all about the free market? Tiny is pretty much living that plan–making a product that people want and are willing to buy. Atheistopia has cured pollution, so if Tiny wants a huge gold fountain, why shouldn’t he have a huge gold fountain?
Hmmm, sure wish there was a book of wisdom to which Paul could turn in times like these…
A tranquil heart gives life to the flesh, but envy makes the bones rot.
For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice.
So, there’s that.
Anyway, his bones rotting with jealousy, Paul heads off to the Port of Los Angeles to find the Fishers of Men. After all, it worked SO WELL last time he made contact with a member of the L.A. underground.
San Pedro Bay was already full of ships from around the world, staging and maneuvering into position to off-load fish and goods. At any other time, Paul would have loved the salty, fishy air.
Um…okay? I freely admit that I have never been to L.A., let alone to the port, but would it really smell lovely and salty and fishy, like being at the beach? Wouldn’t it be more the smell of industry (even non-polluting Atheistopian industry), rather than like a seaside seafood restaurant?
Here is the Port of L.A. Not sure how it smells.
Paul wanders around until he breaks a Manly Sweat, finally coming across…
…a rusting blue-and-gray metal building that sat on a pier just off the water. The front was unmarked, but a hand-painted sign over the side utility door read “Sapiens Fisheries.” Clever.
The inside of the building is filled with boxes of rotting fish to keep the curious away, and I’m kinda glad that Paul is sickened by the smell. Guy deserves much worse than that.
A young fellow named Barton James escorts Paul to the “hidden area” in the back (oh, woowwww), and there he meets Carl and Lois, the “teachers” of the L.A. underground. Not sure why the plural is used, since Carl does most of the talking and teaching, natch.
Carl is an elderly man who was a preacher before the war, and that sounds like an interesting story, but damned if we hear any more about it.
And I have to admit that “Lois” is a pretty good choice for an elderly woman’s name in Atheistopia. I have never known a Lois of my own generation (I am of Ranold’s generation, born in the generation gap between Gen X and the Millenials, the late 1970s to early 1980s), but if Lois is older than that, then she has a name that was fairly common at that time.
So, it’s a name that makes sense.
Unlike, say, RANOLD.
This was pretty quick, but tomorrow I will reveal Carl and Lois’s big plans for L.A.