A Slight Detour by Christopher Stasheff

Author:Christopher Stasheff [Stasheff, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-06-23T21:00:00+00:00

11

There is this that all government chambers have in common—the need to impress the visitor with the power and importance of those who govern, and of their right to do so—the need for pomp and majesty, if you will. Admittedly, this is difficult to achieve in an extreme Calvinist culture, with its prohibition on ornamentation and luxury, but the deacons managed it.

The deacons’ council chamber was the only room we had seen that eschewed polished hardwood floors and completely avoided paneling in that wonderful, soft, golden wood. Their importance was established by the carpet that covered the entire floor—gray, and with a pile thick enough to cover your toes. The walls were bare plaster, but with a horizontal rail painted maroon—the only element of color in the room, presumably for the assistance of the old and infirm. I saw the need for it as soon as I looked at the deacons.

They sat on a dais two feet high, and the ubiquitous carpet climbed its sides and ran under their feet. It would have been an excellent place to panel with that golden wood that would have fetched a king’s ransom on Terra—but here, it was ordinary, and the deep-piled carpet was the luxury, no doubt because it had been imported—never mind that, on Old Earth, it would have cost far less than real wood. In terms of impressing the locals, it was well calculated; for impressing visitors from Terra, it was a miserable failure. However, it did impress us with the grimness and seriousness of the deacons—and of the culture which they represented. It was Hadleyburg in miniature, and without the sun.

Atop the gray carpet, there were several dozen rows of chairs, and they were actually upholstered, in charcoal gray. That alone told one that those who met in this chamber were important—and that any business transacted would take a long time. Why else would the seats be padded?

The deacons could have used some upholstering, too. They were lean and spare, men with gnarled hands that had known much toil. Their beards were gray, but their clothes were work clothes like every other man’s—though these were not faded and worn; again, proof of their importance. Blue, I saw. was not the only color permitted—merely the most popular. Some wore brown, some wore gray. Only one wore black, and he was very old, and in a wheelchair; I assumed he was in mourning.

Three others were in wheelchairs, four wore hearing aids, six wore glasses—apparently aural surgery, like lens surgery, was pointless luxury here. Personally, I would have chosen as they had, rather than trust the local doctors. I suspected that anesthetic was counted a vanity, too, except in the most extreme cases. I wondered about their teeth.

They all looked up as we came in, and their communal stare was unwavering, unblinking. Also unnerving, but I had faced hostile audiences before.

A man in his middle years came toward us, carrying a note board of some sort. He was clad as the deacons were, in what one might call mock working clothes.

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