Introduction
One of the on and off series I’ve been thinking about and writing down ideas for is what I’ll describe (for now) as “utopian”. Utopian in the sense that the society has “figured out how to remain civil” while still having strife and adversity to keep humanity progressing towards perfection. Take that as you will.
Community Fiction | Kirk & Evervine (Community 4)
1: Kirk McQuary
The Evervine Monastery of Saint’s Reverence stood tall beside the humble abodes of believers. The peaceful community, named after the monastery, comprised of several hundred Christians who surrounded the architectural masterpiece. All in Saint’s Reverence came with one purpose: to maintain their denomination, spreading the Good News along the way.
Kirk gazed in shock at the vastness of the beautiful break of day from his makeshift chair of boxed railing. The pink of early dawn gave way to a blood orange sky as the sun crept above the horizon. The glass observation deck behind him stretched out fifteen feet from the sandstone tower, giving him a perfect view. He took the sight in as the sun rose above the flat arid badlands east of Evervine with golden elegance.
Everyone except Kirk and his coworkers.
Once their restoration job was complete, he’d regret the loss of the sunrise. Never had he seen such a magnificent display of the mighty rhythm of earth. So Kirk cherished the moment. He often found making memories was as, if not more, important than living with the wonders he’d seen in his life.
He looked down at the homes two hundred feet below and smiled. The adobe buildings were a sea of sensational colors. Their waves of tans, yellows, blues, greens, and everything in between subsided when they met the monastery’s walled garden. The community’s exterior had a sandstone wall much newer than the monastery. Its addition was Evervine’s previous construction project and finished several years ago.
Kirk turned. The bell tower was one of the tallest sandstone structures ever built and as Kirk looked up at the peak of the monastery another one hundred feet above him, his jaw dropped in simplistic wonder. Every morning he took in the sight and every time he stood in amazement before continuing the restoration of the tower’s damaged sections.
The square tower was fifty feet wide in both directions, stretching all the way to the belfry, and acted as an open-air tourist attraction. Its steeple, as Kirk thought of the rest of the tower, angled gently to a point ten stories above him. The sheer splendor of the sight often gave one pause.
Who would build such a magnificent structure for a figment of their imagination? No one would spend the time and money constructing a monastery that rivaled the gothic structures in Europe without just cause. Not unless something existential drove them to do it. Kirk believed in the God of Abraham, but he’d never found religion to be useful in his assessment. However, he had to admit organized religions could build wondrous spectacles.
His coworkers were preparing their harnesses to go about their work and had taken little time to appreciate the structure after the first week. As their wonder waned, they joked about how believers, such as Kirk, were smitten by the monastery’s appearance more than by God. They’d come to this conclusion about him having only worked with him for a short time. In Kirk’s case, he appreciated brilliant architecture and sweeping vistas, where they preferred the wood, steel, and concrete of the denser agoras. Kirk never cared for ‘modern’ architecture. He spent his youth in a large farming agora and believed most buildings taller than three or four stories were overkill.
“You ready to get to work, Kirk?”
“I am.”
“Well, help Jason with the mixing then! We don’t have all day.” The foreman shot back.
“On it.” Kirk replied and moved to join Jason. Abbot Stuart requested them to halt work just before noon each day due to services starting as he didn’t want people to think the repairs were more important than worship. The monastery paid for a full day’s work, so no one minded the break. Normally, they’d work nonstop, twelve-hours a day until finished. Their employer had plenty of backlogged contracts and constantly demanded jobs finish earlier than expected. In this case, incentivization came from quality of work, no matter the duration, and so the company didn’t push speed over quality.
To the dismay of his coworkers, who regularly enjoyed drinking on their off hours, the agora possessed no bars and only one vineyard. The vineyard made the special holiday service wine given out a few times a year and nothing more. To indulge during their break or at night, Kirk’s coworkers had to travel to nearby agoras with bars and breweries. While private alcohol consumption wasn’t banned in Evervine, the purchase of alcohol was.
Kirk asked around when he first arrived and learned the lack of alcohol was because of some compromise a former Abbot agreed to. Few natives to Evervine could drink, as most were required to take the order’s oaths to join the community and work in the monastery. Those who could drink were mostly family members who didn’t take their faith as seriously as their religious relatives.
The morning’s work went by without issue. As they tidied up for the noon break, the brown clad Abbot Stuart approached the foreman. “Will it be troublesome to ask if one of your men may come with me?”
“What for? Everyone’s packing up right now.”
“I need assistance ringing the bell today.”
The foreman eyed the abbot for signs of injury and scoffed. “Sure.” He looked around and saw Kirk watching attentively. “Kirk will go with you. Won’t ya Kirk?”
“I will, sir!” His voice was ecstatic as he stood straight up, wincing as most of his leg joints cracked in response.
“Jason! Finish cleaning up for Kirk.” The foreman turned away, continuing to examine the work the crew had done.
“Thanks a lot,” Jason snarled.
“Sorry?” Kirk replied with little thought. He didn’t enjoy working with Jason, so he wasn’t about to feel guilty about getting away for a while.
“Thank you, Foreman Dells.” Abbot Stuart said with a trademark pleasant smile.
“Don’t mention it.”
Kirk strode over as the old man rearranged his draping robes. “Follow me, my son.”
“Yessir.” Abbot Stuart led Kirk up the spiral staircase several paces away. “Where are we going exactly?”
“The belfry, the cord is damaged and we cannot ring the bell from below.”
“It doesn’t go off automatically?”
“Automate a call to prayer? Not here in Evervine so long as I’m Abbot!”
“I’m sorry if I offended. That was not my intent.”
“I am not offended, my son. What is your full name?”
Kirk stumbled and his foot came down hard. He’d not realized they were already up the stairs and his foot was prepared for a step that wasn’t present. “Agghhhm—Kirk McQuary.”
“McQuary is a curious name, Kirk. Do you know we had patrons with that name?”
“Is that why you brought me up here? To ask for money? I don’t have any.”
“No. No, that is not why I asked for aid. I do need someone much stronger than I to ring the bell. Though, I have to admit, I was hoping Foreman Dells would give me the opportunity to speak with you privately. I have been rather busy, so I have not found an excuse until God gave me this one.” The older man cleared his throat. “I have been wanting to find out if you are related to those former patrons of ours.”
“Well, you certainly got your opportunity.” Abbot Stuart led him around the enormous bell on the metal balcony without acknowledging Kirk’s muttered response. He glanced at the behemoth bell above him. Evervine possessed the largest bell ever cast on the continent, and, as far as Kirk could gather during his internet sleuthing, the largest in the world. Its mouth was twenty feet wide, and it was just over thirty-one feet tall. The only comparable bell was one which supposedly existed in a Pagoda in Southeast Asia.
“Who were your grandparents, Kirk?”
“Which side?”
“The McQuary side.”
“Oh, of course.” Kirk racked his brain, trying to recall their names. The information lived in his distant past, and he’d rarely thought about them since childhood. “They were on my dad’s side, Mary. And uh—Obe, I think?”
“Obe? Do you mean Obé?”
“Yes! That’s what mom always called him.”
“Obé was a righteous man.”
“You knew him?”
“We were friends after a fashion.” The Abbot admitted as he gazed north. “You know, we can see the lights of Delphi from here at night.”
Taken aback, Kirk looked northward with Abbot Stuart. Sure enough, he could barely make out what had to be the tallest casinos of Delphi. He’d only been there once, and that was enough for him to see the agora in all its splendor. “It’s curious how so many people live such different lives.”
“All part of God’s plan, my son.” Abbot Stuart gestured at a rope knotted to the railing. “You will have to untie it and bring it along.”
They continued up another much shorter flight of stairs that brought them close to the long chain which the monastery used to ring the bell normally. Kirk glanced down the hole it disappeared into. Somewhere down there the chain had broken. He held the rope up to the chain. Noticing the unique rope attachment, he glanced at Abbot Stuart, who gave him a nod. Kirk looped the rope and followed the abbot across the platform until the tension pulled the clapper of the bell. “You’ll need to pull with all your might.”
“And then let go?”
“Not yet, my son. See this rail?” Kirk looked down. He followed the straight devoted slider rail to a device with a wheel. It took all his strength to get the rope inserted. Abbot Stuart handed him earplugs. “Now, stand near the bell and away from the slider rail. When I pull this lever, the tension will be alleviated and the bell will ring. I will need you to pull the whole device back until it latches. We’ll winch the clapper with this wheel here as needed. The bell must ring three full times. If you cannot catch it before it has a second strike on each of the full ones, that imperfection is fine but not ideal. Understand?” Kirk nodded. “Good, on with the hearing protection. It will be very loud and you’re a young man with many years of hearing still needed.”
The elderly man reached into a deep-set pocket and withdrew a golden pocket watch as he cranked the wheel, pulling the clapper an addition few inches. A moment passed before Abbot Stuart looked up and smiled. “The time is now. Make sure to stay clear.” He pulled the lever and the tension on the contraption was given full control. The clapper swung across the wide mouth of the bell, striking the side opposite Kirk.
The thunderous sound rattled Kirk’s body making him cringe in discomfort. Remembering he had to capture the sliding contraption, he leaped forward; managing to catch the handles just after the clapper struck the bell a second time. Kirk pulled with all his might to return to a locked position. Abbot Stuart waved at him and he stepped back. With a well-timed click, the clapper was released and struck the bell in the perfect position for maximum effectiveness. Kirk and the abbot repeated the process and being prepared, Kirk caught the contraption before it struck a second time.
They waited until the rope could be removed and then headed back down the tower. “That was impressive.”
Abbot Stuart glanced at Kirk as he turned, following the staircase down. “If we allowed ourselves to be prideful, it would be at the top of our list I am sure.”
“So you just wanted to know if I was related to some benefactors?” Kirk asked, hoping to be nonchalant about his curiosity. If the abbot heard his eagerness, he didn’t acknowledge it.
“There are many people who have yet to hear the good news and are so close to those who have done so much for it. I fear your family may be one. As you are wealthy in worldly ways by appearance, my selfish curiosity took hold and I had to know. Forgive me for my impertinence if I have caused offense in some way.”
Kirk smiled behind the Abbot as they came to the landing where he’d been working. His family was wealthy but his love of architecture mattered more to him than inheriting the real estate empire his grandparents started. After university he found his love of physical construction or restoration was greater than design and he felt the free travel among the agoras paid for his time on its own.
“Come to service. Just this once, Kirk. See what God is calling you to do.”
“I’ve already made arrangements this afternoon.”
“I see. Promises are important to keep. What of tomorrow?”
“Sure.” Kirk said absently. With sudden inspiration to stave off an undoubtedly boring lunch service, he upped his price. “Can I get a quid pro quo though?”
“What is your ask?”
“I want to see the sun set from here.”
“Do you not see it after work?”
“We pack up before that. I’ve seen the sunrise, but the setting sun has alluded me.”
“Come to the reception desk and ask for me an hour before dusk tonight.” Abbot Stuart left Kirk standing awkwardly on the landing. After a moment, he grabbed his tools and headed out for lunch.
To Be Continued Next Month!
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