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Chapter 14: Second Opinions and Second Shift

  “Labour not for the meat which perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life, which the Son of Man shall give you: for him hath God the Father sealed.” John 6:27

  By the time they got up, it was goin’ on lunch, so they shook down a Skunk named Shaggy. After threatening that they might have to eat him (Mmm, tasty), he instead showed them a berry tree and they all ate berries together, like old friends. Then he waved goodbye with his tail (carefully, prayerfully, and let’s-not-go-therefully), and Bert and Luke rode on, making a little conversation.

  “First thing I want to ask you is, where did you get the fancy name?” Luke inquired. In Hun-Country, you had to be royalty to rate more than two syllables, and usually not even then. (sigh.)

  “Bert? Yeah that is fancy,” Bert acknowledged. Then laughed and explained the long version. “A child is a new creation, half its mother, and half its father. (Except for the soul, which comes from God.) So anyway, my folks decided to give me a name that reflected that heritage. A name that meant something to both of them. So, ‘Bertralamus’ is a combination of my mother’s favorite philosopher Bertrand Russell, and my father’s third favorite gland, the hypothalamus. (You’re a college lad, you’ll figure it out...)”

  “Say no more, say no more.”

  “Jefferson comes from my American mama’s favorite patriot, and my dod’s third favorite City in Missouri (after Blue Springs and Wentzville, one has to expect.) As for the last name, well you don’t exactly choose that, but they observed, just for fun, that it could almost be thought of as kind of a combination of my daddy’s third favorite book, The Lorax,55 and my mum’s favorite, Look Homeward Angel.”

  “Are you your father’s third-favorite child or something?”

  Bert laughed. “I’m an only child… but he always warned me that he liked those well-behaved neighbor kids quite a bit…”

  Luke hadn’t missed the part where Bert gave credit to God for the life of a child, and had to ask: “Are you a Christian?”

  Bert was knocked off his rhythm by the unexpected question, but recovered himself quickly and parried, “Well if I am, I’m not a very good one...” Which sounded to Luke like a confession, until Bert added the exuberant explanation: “...I’m a drinker, a stinker, and a dirty-thought thinker!” Then it sounded like a boast.

  After this, Bert turned the tables and asked back: “Let me guilelessly ask you a question. Why are you so concerned with God and Christ, if you’re not even a believer? Coz how can you claim to be on a quest for truth and wisdom, and yet make up your mind at the beginning? If you already are so sure of the answer, why do you need to keep seeking at all? And if you’re not sure yet, then maybe it couldn’t hurt to get a second opinion…”

  Luke noticed at this point that he must be at least part way towards believing, because although this would have made sense in the old days, Bert’s suggestion now sounded frighteningly like blasphemy. Luke thought hard about why this might be, and offered this explanation to his friend Bert: “I don’t know, the Man of God was pretty convincing.” Luke thought a little further, and added, “Actually, I think I have been given second opinions already, by several others: the Caveman, Hosanna, Tom, Jean-L’, and the Gatekeeper of Penetanguishene. They all agreed with the first, and each was as credible as the last.”

  “And no one yet has challenged you about it? Tried to sway you from your course?” Luke shook his head, Not Exactly. “Then allow me...” Bert volunteered, perhaps too eagerly.

  Luke had a bad feeling about this. Maybe it was just the fact that he felt he had been getting somewhere, just starting to understand something, and he was afraid he might lose it, forget it, become confused or change his mind. So as not to offend his friend, he explained that this was the reason that he would prefer that Bert didn’t.

  Bert sighed. “Luke, let me remind you of a couple verses you might not have read yet, or might just have overlooked. I remember at one point it says that ‘Perfect Love casteth out fear.’ You say you’re afraid I’ll set you back, but if you had that perfect love for God, you wouldn’t be afraid at all! You would be unshakable.”

  Luke thought this sounded like an accusation, and responded defensively, “I know I don’t have it yet. But I’m trying. It’s what I want.” His face brightened at the declaration.

  “Absolutely, and I want you to have it, too. But what was the parable about the seed that was scattered by the wayside, and on the stony ground, and among the thorns? You want your life to be a seed planted in good ground: which means you want to make your commitment right the first time. You’re talking about a lifetime decision, it’s something too important to back into, or to make by merely pretending you believe it. You really want to choose it, for certain and for keeps, over everything else! Now the best way to do that is to at least give a decent consideration to everything else, if only so you can reject them and choose God more honestly! That’s all I’m asking you to do--I’m not trying to trick you out of finding your faith. It’s like holding up two oranges beside an apple: if there’s anything to this God thing, there’s no way you’ll get it confused with anything I could show you! If anything, the contrast will make it stand out, so you can be even more sure that it’s what you want.”

  Luke started to get a little hungry with all the talk about food, coz the berries had been good, but not very filling. “Mmm, I do want an apple,” he affirmed.

  “See? This isn’t so hard. Tell me this, to get us started: Before you talked to the Man of God, what made you even start on this quest? What made you feel that you might need God?”

  Luke remembered, and realized he still mostly felt the same way: “I feel like there’s something missing in my life, a hole inside me where something good should be. I don’t know what I should do to make my life worthwhile. Chief of the Huns is a pretty violent occupation, it’s hard to see how I could have made the world a better place that way.”

  Bert summarized, skipping past most of what Luke had told him, “So in other words you didn’t like your job. Hey, that’s a good place to start. You spend the largest portion of your waking time there, so if you find a good job that makes you happy, it’ll take you a long way towards feeling fulfilled overall. Ah, the value of Work!”

  “Nay, nay!” Pony Meroni full-blasted his dissent at them telepathically, trying to warn them that work was no fun. (It wasn’t that he couldn’t talk...he was just a little hoarse.)

  Luke didn’t think that finding the right job sounded like the solution to all his problems, but then it couldn’t hurt either. “We don’t have any career counseling in Hun-Country,” he admitted. (It would have been kind of pointless. What would a career counselor recommend to a teen-age Hun? Once every thirty years they might tell a promising successor, “You’d make a good career counselor.” But for every one else in the meantime it would merely be: “You’ll make a good warrior. Take a pamphlet.”)

  Bert tried to think what Luke should try, and finally concluded: “Perhaps it doesn’t matter so much what you do for a living. The more complete solution is just to have a positive attitude. It’s possible to ‘choose the life you like’, but it’s better to decide to ‘choose to like your life’56. That way it depends less on luck, and more on you.”

  This was a little unsatisfying to Luke, because of its implications: “In that case, I could even be Chief of the Huns as long as I learned to smile about it.”

  “You probably could,” Bert agreed. “It’s up to you to find a way to make that job enjoyable. That’s your responsibility. It’s not God’s duty to give you a perfect life: you ought to find the perfection in what He gives you.”

  “You sure you’re not a Christian?” Luke asked suspiciously, coz Bert was still talking about God a lot.

  Bert laughed, and repeated his indirect answer, “If I am, I’m not a very good one.”

  At this point in their travels, they just happened to pass a factory made of cement blocks and corr
ugated sheet metal. There was a woodburned sign (like a Quiet Riot plaque from days of yore), saying “Industrial Dave’s Good Auto Parts”. It didn’t look very inviting. Bert shrugged. “Small steps,” he said. “We can try this place out for now. Maybe it’ll be a good job for ya. More likely it’ll be good practice for our positive attitudes!” So they tied their horses to the bike rack and went in.

  There were lots of machines, but most of them were idle, and it was pretty dark. But there were some lights on at the far end of the shop, so they went down there. They found several machines running: presses, and coilers, and conveyor belts, and automated grinders, but it took a minute before they saw any people. Finally, in a corner, working frantically slapping brackets together on an assembly machine, they found a man with a round head and big hands. Bert ventured a small cough and said, “Hello.”

  The man gave a little jump, but then smiled when he saw them. “Ah, reinforcements. He sprang over to a circuit box and flipped on a few more lights and powered up a few more machines. “You want work? Pick a machine. I am very far behind schedule, I appreciate any help.” He shook a bag of coins. “The better you work, the more I pay.”

  Bert liked this capitalist promise, but Luke was still a little awed: “Are you Industrial Dave? Are you alone here? Where’s everyone else?”

  The man looked a little perturbed at the delay. “Yes; yes; and there is no one else. I run the factory by myself, except when help arrives. So far, just you two. And sometimes in the summers I am visited by the incomparable Jonnathinn Halley, Master of All Trades, Jack of None.” Industrial Dave looked at a clock and added, “He should be here any minute.”

  As if on cue, Jonnathinn Halley came drifting in, waved, and started turning on presses. Later in the shift they spotted him repairing machines, and then heard him driving a Hi-Lo around in Shipping. (This last service was especially pleasing to Industrial Dave, who lacked a Hi-Lo license and usually resorted to pushing the shop tubs around with his hips or his hands.)

  “See, that guy sets a good example. Hurry, pick a machine and I’ll be there in a second to train you. Come on. Snap snap. Second shift is starting!”

  Industrial Dave brought them safety glasses, gloves and earplugs, saying, “You’ll want to protect your ears so that someday you can hear your children playing. You’ll want to protect your hands so that you can walk hand-in-hand with your wife in your old age. And you’ll want to protect your eyes...SO THAT YOU CAN ALWAYS WATCH FOOTBALL!” he shouted over the noise. (Gotta be clear on that point.) Then he took a couple minutes training each of them, before leaving them alone to run their machines until lunch time. They started out kind of slow and cautious, but got quicker and more confident as the day went on. There was only working, no talking, as they were too far apart and the machine noise was too loud for conversation anyway.

  Luke felt very uncomfortable and out of place at first, among the yellow walls and dim electric light and pounding noises. They sure didn’t have anything like this in Hun-Country! And watching the clock just made the time go slower; he feared lunch would never arrive. But then he started getting into the rhythm, watching his piece-count and making a game out of trying to get parts out efficiently. “I guess it’s fun, in a way,” he tried to convince himself. At the very least, the solitude let him be alone with his thoughts...

  He thought about God, and about the Bible stories he had read recently. Then he wondered if thinking this might be a good sign, if it meant he was indeed making God his top interest, like seeing the apple between oranges. Luke realized that he was smiling, and decided that maybe Bert was right, you could find a way to like anything with the right attitude...

  And the right attitude was to focus on God?”

  Before Luke had a chance to finish thinking this through, the 7 o’clock lunch bell sounded. ‘But that’s good too,’ Luke told himself. Thinking ‘bout those apples and oranges again had got his stomach grumbling!

  Industrial Dave showed them to the break room, and all four men bought snacks and sandwiches out of the vending machines--including an apple, which Luke pared and shared (because he cared) with the hungry horses. They all took their food outside to the picnic tables, coz it was a nice summer evening outside. They also brought out a deck of cards, because it wasn’t everyday that they had four players for euchre!

  As they ate and played, and enjoyed the brief release from the industrial desolation, Luke tried to learn more about the place: “So what-all do you make here?”

  Industrial Dave shrugged and pointed at the sign. (His conversation skills had atrophied from working alone in the factory for too long.) Jonnathinn Halley, who had some knowledge of the plant himself, filled the void: “We make auto parts. Basically whatever you might need to make a bus or even a car: bumper brackets, wiper arms, engine and transmission springs… even plastic roof racks!”

  “Car?” Luke asked, confused. He remembered buses, but, “I’ve never heard of cars.”

  “I’m not surprised!” Jonnathinn Halley laughed. They haven’t been invented yet.57 So we’re having to warehouse a lot of parts for now, and break even from the sales of our bus parts alone. But once someone invents the car, all those stored parts are pure profit,” he explained happily, in a deferred gratification, down-the-road-looking, unaware-of-rust manner.

  Now Luke was even more confused, so Jonnathinn Halley tried to explain a little better: “Haven’t you ever heard the question, ‘Which came first, the chicken or the egg?’ Well, the answer there is simple, the chicken, because God made it. But God didn’t make cars, so the answer there is less certain. I tend to think you need car parts to build a car. Don’t you?” This sounded plausible to Luke... he guessed. “So we build car parts, waiting for someone to get the great idea to put them together and build a car!”

  Now this made sense, except Luke judged that there was something still amiss: “But if you know just what parts to make, and if you have the idea that you are making them for a ‘car’, why can’t you guys just go ahead and invent the car too?”

  Bert, who had already been smiling at this irony, couldn’t help interjecting, as a possible explanation, a paraphrased Star Trek exclamation that went over their heads: “I’m a laborer Jim, not an entrepreneur!”

  Jonnathinn Halley smiled: “True. But never fear, in a capitalist society someone will always appear to fill the gap eventually. Industrial Dave was miles ahead when he was just building bus parts, too, but then along came those famous inventors, Messieurs Rimington, Steinkuhler, Glover, Shields and Taylor, who invented the bus so that lots of big guys could ride to a football game instead of walking. You show up in Oklahoma tired from a four hundred mile hike and you’re gonna lose anyway.”

  “They must have been great men,” Luke offered.

  “Geniuses all!” Industrial Dave finally spoke up, eyes moist, clearly moved.

  That was all that needed to be said about that. They played euchre for a few more minutes, hoping that lunch break would drag on just a little longer.

  Suddenly, just before the buzzer, Bert cleared his throat and spoke out grandly in ringing tones, reciting a kind of poem he had been composing while checking out the striking late-blue sky:

  “The sky is like a little child...

  She calls out to me,

  ‘Look at me, Look at me!’...

  And then she hugs me

  And she tells me that she loves me.”

  There was a startled pause, and then, thinking him finished, Bert’s three fellow-laborers were about to applaud and congratulate him, when he silenced them by continuing sharply,

  “And then I sss-lap the sky, and tell her to go bother her mother!”

  Bert looked proud of himself. Seeing that the others were at a loss for words now, he volunteered with a shrug, “Poetry should not always please and edify, but should also sometimes shock and offend.”

  “I feel the same way about union contracts,” Industrial Dave growled menacingly.

  Fearing
lest they lose their health care and pension, Jonnathinn Halley shrewdly steered the conversation back to the previous topic:“So you’re a poet then?” he asked Bert, with what might have been a mocking smile.

  Bert shrugged again: “In school my peers nicknamed me the Para-poet58 (even though I’m still single.) I’m not a full-fledged poet, but I’ll do in a pinch. I also worked for a while as a paramedic, and a paralegal.”

  “Well, let’s hope nobody here gets injured and sues me then,” Industrial Dave critiqued gruffly, just as the buzzer sounded. They got up and returned to work.

  The next few hours flew by, and soon it was 11 o’clock, shift change. They all were ready to go except Industrial Dave: “Someone has to stay and work the midnight shift,” he explained dutifully.

  “So when do you sleep?” Luke worried. Coz they had seen him working day shift when they arrived.

  Industrial Dave shrugged. “If you work three shifts, you get three lunch breaks. I don’t need to eat three lunches.” As if that explained everything. The others shook their heads, accepted their day’s wages in copper, chromium and jade, (Luke was a little confused and disappointed to see that Bert got three of each type of coin, and he himself only got two), and rode off.

  “So, what did you think?” Bert asked his friend. “Did it feel good to be doing an honest day’s work for a change?” (He was assuming that a Chief’s son must not do much work. Luke didn’t challenge the phrase, convicted instead by the qualifier ‘honest’.)

  Luke assessed the day’s events. “It was all right I guess. Yeah, the part I did like is that I felt like I was creating something new, something that wouldn’t have existed if not for me. Maybe that’s the highest calling: to imitate God in ‘creating’?” Then Luke thought twice and added, “I guess I still like Lawrence’s idea better though. If you tend the land, you know you’re helping in the creation of something good. I’m not so sure that auto parts are good! But I guess they’re not evil either,” he concluded, deciding they were certainly less destructive than the savage implements that Huns wrought out of metal!

  Bert was pleased: “Now you’re getting somewhere. See, I told you, the best way to live your life is to jump right in. At the very least, the more stuff you do, the more you can compare. You worked in a factory and came out convinced that you would rather be a farmer-- you’re not the first, believe me!”

  ‘I worked in a factory and came out convinced I would rather be a Christian’ Luke thought to himself instead. He kept this discovery inside, where it warmed him. And when they spotted a good sleeping-ditch and made camp, Luke lit up his candle, took out his Bible, wrote ‘Freedom and Regret’ for yesterday, and then added ‘Positive’, ‘Perfection’ and ‘Work’. Then he read all of Romans in honor of the great day.