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grandchild on the way in Utah . We will miss her.
    As for me, I was promoted to assistant manager, a job title that did not exist before. I will manage the dining room, with its tables, chairs, and waiting line. The new job came with another $100 per month, less than a five-percent raise. It also came with no time to sit down, a fact I did not realize until I had graciously accepted the assignment.
    I am spending more time, now, with the Clarklians. They like a friendly greeting, but they don’t mind making my life difficult when the lines are long or the favorite dishes on the buffet line are in short supply.
    The Wolpters are the worst of the complainers. They have places to go and activities to attend to, if you can believe them, and they don’t appreciate being held up by the Drones in the waiting line. Everybody knows the Drones have nothing to do but eat four or five times a day, but the Wolpters are always in a hurry.
    The Wolpters are nearly as ugly as the Monarchs. Although they do not have those strange flesh-like horns, they have very wide lips and tall ears.
    The Wolpters are responsible, our new manager has told me, for most of the Drones on this planet. A Wolpter and a Carrier always produce a Drone, and a Wolpter and a Slinker produce a Drone half the time. Since the Wolpters are prolific breeders, the Drones they complain about are very likely their own products.
    And the number of Drones has grown since the Americans started to run the dining rooms in the 2070s. If anybody is starving to death on this planet, it is not the breeders of Drones. This would include Slinkers, Carriers, Seekers, and Wolpters. In fact, since Drones and Batwigs are sterile, only the Monarchs, of the non-sterile sexes, do not produce Drones.
    I would like to see the demographics for the seven sexes. I know when a certain sex reproduces with its own kind, the offspring is the same sex as the parents. Each of these creatures is androgynous, and each non-sterile creature is able to sire or bear a child. I have heard that Monarchs tend to keep to themselves for childbearing, but a true Monarch can also be a product of the Wolpter and the Monarch. I often wonder if they can distinguish between them.
    Some of the farmers are certain the Clarklians gather the youngsters in great orphanages. Do they keep the sexes separate there?
    So many interesting ideas to think about while my feet hurt.
    The chef has not yet been caught by his suitor, but I understand he goes out to the farms on his days off to court a lady farmhand. Since the suitor’s day off is not the same as the chef’s, perhaps she doesn’t know about his other interest.
    There should be a rule here whereby a love affair costs $10,000. I believe we could insulate the cabins after collecting these fines for eighteen months.
    The twins continue with their work at Ohio State , and Susan and Molly look happier with each new picture.
    December 25, 2142  
    Another holiday has come and gone, and my sentence on this cold planet is half over.
    Good news from the real estate people, though. They have raised the rent again, and the tenants have agreed to a two-year lease. All my bills are current, and my liabilities, including the mortgage, are under $100,000! Except for that note Harry signed for Patsy.
    No news from Patsy, of course. I wish she would just tell me the status. It’s even more important to me now that I am within a year or two of turning the corner.
    The Seekers came back to the farms, loaded down with robots. These curious creatures now do all the weeding, even in the rows where the plants are about the same size as the weeds. The robots are able to sense the biological makeup of whatever they have their clamps on and pull up only the weeds. Our farmers are now using the robots right before planting and during the growing seasons.
    Last year’s outbreak of love affairs has abated somewhat. We are down to the chef and his various interests, two homosexual couples, and