Chapter 6 - Paradise At Work
The three of us changed from our usual white robes into darker and heavier working ones, and replaced our sandals with sturdy shoes. Then leisurely we strolled towards the construction area, located on the southern edge of the village. As our house was situated at the outer western limits of the community, we followed a forested trail to an area about half a mile south-east of the open grasslands, where the Divine Light had come down last night.
Along the way we saw Cory with another dog. They ran towards us and within seconds, Cory was in my arms. "Hey, boy, who's your friend? And why weren't you there to greet me when I woke up this morning?"
Cory's reply was a bark and a lick across the face.
Dad laughed. "I guess the bark means he's introducing you to his friend, Samba, and the lick means he's sorry he wasn't there to greet you."
After a few minutes of frolicking with the dogs, we continued onwards, with our two canine companions traipsing merrily behind. Upon reaching the construction site, I was genuinely surprised to see both the number of houses being built, and the amount of people that were there. Some were leveling the ground with their spades, some were sawing wood, others taking measurements. However, as soon as they saw us, they came and greeted us with their customary smiles and embraces.
Finally, a jovial, swarthy looking man with jet-black hair and a pencil fine moustache came and greeted me. "Ah, to embrace is so much better than a cold handshake, isn't it?"
It was Carlos, the community's spiritual mentor that had introduced me to the community last night. How totally different he now seemed. Within the Divine Light, he had looked and sounded so imposing, now he seemed as gentle as a lamb. Carlos looked down behind me and his grin broadened. "Ah, I see you have already met Samba."
"Samba? Oh, yes, Cory's friend. We met along the way."
Carlos then patted both dogs. "You have a fine dog, as my daughter keeps reminding me." He then placed his arm around me. "So, David, would you like to help us?"
"Yes, sure, but as I already told my father, I don't know anything about building houses."
Carlos laughed heartily. "Ah, that doesn't matter! We'll soon teach you."
"Okay, I'll sure give it a try!" I replied, sounding more optimistic than I really was.
Thus, my father, Carlos and I walked towards the furthest building site, with Cory and Samba still trailing behind.
"What about Mum?" I asked. "Isn't she coming?"
"No. I think your ma, by the look of things, is going to do some interior decorating this morning."
"What about us?" I queried.
Dad gave a cheeky grin. "We're doing some real exciting stuff. Shoveling! Ain't that right, Carlos?"
Carlos likewise grinned.
"Oh great, I can hardly wait!" I muttered under my breath.
Dad slapped me on the back. "Oh, come on, son. Cheer up! Remember, I told you that the work is real easy."
We walked towards the allotted site, which at this early stage consisted of only four stakes hammered into the ground. I watched as my father and Carlos strung a line around the stakes, which I was told formed the outer perimeter of the house. My father then came up to me and handed me a spade.
"So, what do I do with this?" I asked.
He shook his head and laughed good-naturedly. "You really haven't done much physical work, have you, son?"
I smiled sheepishly. "No, I suppose not."
"Well, don't fret, just follow me and I'll show you how it's done." Dad then led me to the center of the pegged area. "This building will be sort of special because it'll have a concrete floor. So what we're going to do now is just level off the high parts and fill in the low parts until it's all smooth and flat, like this." He demonstrated the technique for about a minute or so before asking, "What about it, want to give it a whirl?" I stared at the spade and wondered just for an instant whether this new life was a paradise after all. Amused by my hesitation, he again encouragingly slapped me on my back. "Come on, son, you might surprise yourself by enjoying it. Don't forget, you're now a whole lot stronger and fitter than what you used to be."
I tentatively took the spade and followed his instructions. To my astonishment, the spade glided effortlessly into the soil, and with just a little practice, I was working as neatly and efficiently as Carlos and my dad. In no time at all, we had dug a perfectly straight seventy by fifty foot hole, three inches deep, and scraped as flat and smooth as a billiard table. I only then noticed that Cory had gone.
Seeing my concern, my father said, "Don't worry about him. He and his pal just wandered back into the woods. He's perfectly safe."
"Yeah, I know. So what happens now?" I asked.
"We're now going to lay the 'natconcrete,'" my father replied.
"Natconcrete? What do you mean?"
"Natconcrete," my father chuckled, "is like concrete, only it's a natural product, like everything here in Paradise. It's also how we forge metal so easily. You see, unlike ordinary concrete in which you had to mix cement, sand, gravel and water, natconcrete can be found in several locations, including a site near our village. In its raw form, it's like a light brown soil, but when sprinkled with water, it mixes into a soft brown paste that can be easily shaped into any form. Then, when a special gray soil is added, it hardens within minutes."
Shortly thereafter, several people came with wheelbarrows, and I watched this process at work. Perhaps an hour later, the concrete slab was finished.
It was just then that I heard a distant cry: "Timber!"
There followed a creaking and cracking sound of splintering wood, and then a thunderous dull thud as a giant pine crashed and crumbled to the ground. My father was standing behind me and I spun around and exclaimed in horror, "They just knocked down a tree!"
Considering all the lumber that was used in making houses here in Paradise, it should have come as no surprise. Yet, it did. Also, despite the fact that my father had been a lumberjack, all my adult life I had been a strong advocate against the deforestation that occurred during my lifetime. Now, here in Paradise, the act of felling a tree not only seemed incongruous, but even obscene. I said as much to him.
Dad only chuckled. "You needn't get so worked up about it, but I understand your point of view. However, here pine trees don't die when they're chopped down, provided some roots remain in the ground. Also, trees grow to full maturity in just a few weeks."
"A few weeks!" I exclaimed.
"Yeah, incredible, ain't it! And that's not all. The trees we normally cut down, like that one you just heard are what we call 'pole pines.'"
"Pole pines?"
Dad laughed. "Yeah, you wouldn't believe it. It could only happen here in Paradise. But these trees have been created just for our usage in that they grow perfectly smooth and straight, have only branches near the top, and get this, they don't have bark of any kind!" He paused for a moment to let the point sink in. "Then these trees are sawed to the size we need, and there you have it, logs ready to be used." He again slapped me on the back. "So, how about you and me cutting up some of that lumber?"
I smiled wryly. "Sure, why not? It sounds like fun."
We walked towards the felled tree, picked up a large bow saw and began our task. Again, to my surprise, I found sawing no harder than I had found digging, and soon we had several logs stacked up. Others then came and carted them off, all ready to be used.
What a strange world this was, I thought to myself. Unlike the world I had known, where nature had to be seemingly conquered and subdued, here in Paradise, nature was a benign and wonderful servant ever ready to please.
"Do you feel like eating, son?"
I nodded, then followed my father to the next Paradise event.