Parable of the Talents - Octavia E Butler Page 0,166

community, according to Olamina’s official biography, had been destroyed by Jarret’s Crusaders back in the 30s. Its men and women had been enslaved for over a year by the Crusaders, and all the prepubescent children had been abducted. Most had never been seen again.

The Church of Christian America had denied this and sued Olamina and Earthseed back in the 2040s when Olamina’s charge first came to their attention. The church was still powerful, even though Jarret was dead by then. The rumors were that Jarret, after his single term as President, drank himself to death. A coalition of angry business people, protestors against the Al-Can War, and champions of the First Amendment worked hard to defeat him for re-election in 2036. They won by exposing some of the earliest Christian American witch-burnings. It seems that between 2015 and 2019, Jarret himself took part in singling people out and burning them alive. The Pox, then a growing malignancy, had been both the excuse and the cover for this. Jarret and his friends had burned accused prostitutes, drug dealers, and junkies. Also, in their enthusiasm, they burned some innocent people—people who had nothing to do with the sex trade or drugs. When that happened, Jarret’s people covered their “mistakes” with denials, threats, more terror, and occasional payoffs to the bereaved families. Uncle Marc researched this himself several years ago, and he says it’s true—true and sad and wrong, and in the end, irrelevant. He says Jarret’s teachings were right even if the man himself did wrong.

Anyway, the Church of Christian America sued Olamina for her “false” accusations. She countersued. Then suddenly, without explanation, CA dropped its suit and settled with her, paying her an unreported, but reputedly vast sum of money. I was still a kid growing up with the Alexanders when all this happened, and I heard nothing about it. Years later, when I began to research Earthseed and Olamina, I didn’t know what to think of it.

I phoned Uncle Marc and asked him, point-blank, whether there was any possibility that this woman could be my mother.

On my phone’s tiny monitor, Uncle Marc’s face froze, then seemed to sag. He suddenly looked much older than his 54 years. He said, “I’ll talk to you about this when I come home.” And he broke the connection. He wouldn’t take my calls after that. He had never refused my calls before. Never.

Not knowing what else to do, where else to turn, I checked the nets to see where Lauren Olamina might be speaking or organizing. To my surprise, I learned that she was “resting” at Red Spruce, less than a hundred kilometers from where I was.

And all of a sudden, I had to see her.

I didn’t try to phone her, didn’t try to reach her with Uncle Marc’s well-known name or my own name as a creator of several popular Masks. I just showed up at Red Spruce, rented a room at their guest house, and began trying to find her. Earthseed doesn’t bother with a lot of formality. Anyone can visit its communities and rent a room at a guest house. Visitors came to see relatives who were members, came to attend Gatherings or other ceremonies, even came to join Earthseed and arrange to begin their probationary first year.

I told the manager of the guest house that I thought I might be a relative of Olamina’s and asked him if he could tell me how I might make an appointment to speak with her. I asked him because I had heard people call him “Shaper” and I recognized that from my reading as a title of respect akin to “reverend” or “minister.” If he was the community’s minister, he might be able to introduce me to Olamina himself.

Perhaps he could have, but he refused. Shaper Olamina was very tired, and not to be bothered, he told me. If I wanted to meet her, I should attend one of her Gatherings or phone her headquarters in Eureka, California, and arrange an appointment.

I had to hang around the community for three days before I could find anyone willing to take my message to her. I didn’t see her. No one would even tell me where she was staying within the community. They protected her from me courteously, firmly. Then, all of a sudden, the wall around her gave way. I met one of her acolytes and he took my message to her.

My messenger was a thin, brown-haired young man who said his name was