The questioner asked what the point is of all this living, dying, and being reborn, and the lessons learned in the process. In other words, why, ultimately, was the Earth School created? And why did we choose to matriculate in it? I don't know the answers to those questions. Much about the Tao—God, if you will—is beyond human comprehension.
First Human Forum speech by
Ngunda Aran, at the National Press Club
in Washington, D.C.
On their first morning at the Cote, all four Shoreffs ate breakfast at their own table in the dining hall. Then Ben left to report at the finance office and meet his new boss, while Lee walked to school with her daughters. Susan Klein was Becca's teacher. Lee stayed awhile to observe, and left encouraged. She couldn't dismiss the possibility of cult indoctrination, but at least the classroom was well-equipped, and the people seemed rational and competent.
She'd discovered that her new home had utilitarian tableware and linens, adequate till her own arrived. But while everything seemed clean, she went from school to the commissary, and bought cleaning supplies. The rest of the morning she spent doing laundry and dishes, washing down kitchen surfaces, and writing a list of groceries and supplies for the commissary to pick up for her.
As Lee cleaned already clean shelves, and put things away, she wondered why the Cote was so large. What sort of operation was this that took so many people to operate? Why was it located in the middle of nowhere? And who had paid for it?
All those things, she supposed, would start to clarify during her orientation that afternoon.
The girls arrived home at twelve, and walked with their mother to the dining hall to eat lunch with Ben. Again the food was excellent. The main course was a vegetable-pasta casserole, and fried chicken. There was also sandwich material, salad makings, a limited fruit buffet, cider, and hot water for one's choice of instant hot drinks. After lunch, the girls walked themselves back to school, about which they'd spent much of lunchtime chattering.
Rather than pleasing her, their enthusiasm troubled Lee. If they liked school that much, they'd be more susceptible to any cult material they were exposed to.
At one o'clock she reported to the receptionist, who walked her to the office of Anne Whistler, the operations chief. Whistler was a graying, 50-ish woman, four inches shorter and thirty pounds heavier than Lee. "Call me Anne," Whistler said when they were introduced. After buzzing her immediate staff, the woman led Lee to a conference room to meet with them. Each department head had brought not only her current departmental organization chart, but had prepared a detailed flow chart to acquaint Lee with their operations.
"Just getting ready for you has helped," one of them told her. Anne Whistler, in turn, had prepared a master flow chart that pretty much tied all the others together. She described how the situation had developed: as the operation had expanded, things initially done off the cuff came to require differentiation and organization.
Meanwhile, Millennium had continued to expand, and experience had grown. New procedures had evolved and old ones changed. At first the changes had simply been superposed on the original OC, then computerized generic systems had been adapted and tried, but hadn't worked well.
Service delivery, accounting, and quality control were the best-organized areas in the operation.
Lee asked basic questions, starting with what the services were that they delivered. Their answers were concise. They had a good grasp of what they did, and how, which was going to make her job easier than it might have been.
She'd anticipated resentment at her being brought in to change how they did things. In her experience, that had been invariable. Her job was to horn in on people's bailiwicks and make them do things differently than they were used to. It usually ended up with divisions and departments changed, some personnel demoted, moved, or lopped off like deadwood. Resentment was expected. But surprisingly, these people showed none of it.
They would though, in time, she had no doubt. Because she'd have to make a lot of changes. She was surprised the organization functioned as well as it did, presumably a result of individual good sense and good will.
Their system of quality control was remarkable, both in the delivery of seemingly sensitive services, and in employee performance. Besides dealing with the usual quality problems, their program undertook to identify and correct personality difficulties, learning difficulties—anything that might cause operation and delivery problems.
Whistler concluded the meeting at 4:30. When the others had returned to their separate offices, she told Lee she was to recommend any changes she felt necessary, regardless of whom they affected. She was not to feel constrained in any way by the status quo. "I'll want to review your progress each Friday," she added. "Meanwhile, feel free to talk with me whenever necessary."
The woman paused, but Lee sensed she wasn't done yet. "It will help," Whistler said, "if you become personally familiar with our services. Some of them, certainly. I suggest the basic Abilities Release series—what we call Life Healing."
Aha! Lee knew a bit about Life Healing: it was the hook, the beginning of Millennium brainwashing. She never blinked. "I don't know," she said. "I'll talk about it with my husband this evening. But to be honest with you, I probably won't try it. I'm uncomfortable with psychotherapies."
"I understand," Whistler replied.
Lee hoped the woman didn't. She also wondered, as she left Whistler's office, whether this would cause difficulties. She'd discovered she really wanted to do this job. She wanted the money—they needed it—but she also wanted to do the job. It looked really interesting. Challenging and interesting.
As she walked home, it occurred to her that Ben was probably somewhere in the admin building, working, and no one had been at home for the girls after school. She should, she told herself, have instructed them about that. So she hurried, but found no one there, and assumed they were playing with new friends. After using the bathroom, she'd go to the Kleins' and check. But Ben arrived before she left, and moments later the girls came in.
"Where have you been?" she asked them.
"At school, Mom," Becca answered matter of factly. "Children whose parents both work have to stay. You work on your homework first, and then, if there's time, you can play on the playground or in the gym, or read if you want. Some of the other kids stay too, because there are teachers to help if you need it."
Then both girls sat with their parents in the breakfast nook, describing their afternoon and their classes, and talking about new friends, till it was time to go to the dining hall.
That evening the commissary truck came by and delivered Lee's order. When she'd put it away, she sat down by herself in the nook, to relax, and review her day over a cup of tea. She felt good about it, stimulated, unworried about Whistler's suggestion. And the bill the commissary had given her, for her order from Walsenburg, hadn't been as steep as she'd anticipated. But most especially, the girls had really liked their new school, and apparently there'd been no breath of cultism there. Perhaps there was a system of home teaching for that.