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old. A good whipping could instill almost as much fear of the Lord in the hearts of beholders as in the single heart about which the lash curled.
    In the square before the commonhouse, Neil was already strung up to the whipping post. His back was bare. Buddy was one of the last to arrive.
    Anderson, with the whip in his hand, stood spraddle legged in readiness. These was just a bit too much stiffness in his stance. Buddy knew that it must be costing the old man to carry on as though this were no more than an ordinary fiasco, a matter of some twenty lashes.
    When Anderson had to whip Buddy or Neil, he meted out the pain impartially—no more and no less than he would have doled out to anyone else for the same offense. His touch was as precise as a metronome. But tonight, after the third stroke, his knees collapsed and he fell to the ground.
    There was a gasp from the circle of spectators, then Anderson was on his feet again. The color had run out of his face, and, giving the whip to Buddy, his hand trembled.
    “You continue,” he commanded.
    If the old man had handed him his Python—or a scepter—Buddy couldn’t have been any more taken aback.
    Maryann heard it all from inside the tent, while she licked the pot. When there was a pause after the third stroke, she hoped that might be the end. She understood of course that these things had to be done, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. It wasn’t good manners to enjoy someone else being hurt, even if you didn’t like them.
    The whipping started again.
    She wished Buddy had left her more food. And now, with the Guernseys all dead, there’d be no more milk!
    She tried to think of what she would say when he got home. She decided on “Darling, we are going to have a bundle of joy.”
    It was such a nice expression. She had heard it first in a movie a long time ago. Eddie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds had been the stars.
    For
his
sake, she hoped it was a boy, and she fell asleep wondering what his name should be. Patrick, for his grandfather? Or Lawrence? She had always loved that name, for some reason. Joseph was a good name too.
    Buddy? She wondered if there was a Saint Buddy. She had never heard of one. Perhaps he was a Congregationalist saint.

FOUR: Good-bye, Western Civilization
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    On 22 August 1979, as per instructions of 4 July 1979, preparations were begun for the incineration of the artifact shown in the maps as “Duluth-Superior.” Meteorological conditions were ideal: for 17 days there had been no rain, scarcely a dampness in the mornings. “Duluth-Superior” was quartered, and each of these Quarters was divided into three Sections, as shown in the accompanying photographs, taken from elevation 133 kms. Action began at 20.34 hours, 23 August 1979.
    This artifact was constructed upon numerous low mounds of natural formation, topographically akin to the artifact “San Francisco.” Here, however, the major construction element was wood, which burns quickly. Firing began in the lowest areas of each Section, and the natural updraft of air accomplished almost as much as the firing devices.
    With the exceptions of Sections II-3 and III-1 near the old lakeshore (here for some reason, the elements of the artifact were larger and constructed of stone and brick instead of wood), complete incineration was achieved in 3.64 hours. When the work in each Quarter had been accomplished to satisfaction, the equipment of that Quarter was transferred to Sections II-3 and III-1, and these Sections were incinerated by 01.12 hours, 24 August 1979.
    There were two mechanical failures in Section IV-3. Appraisal of damages has been sent to the Office of Supplies, and a carbon of that appraisal is enclosed herewith.
    Mammals dwelling in the periphery of Quarters I, II, and IV escaped into the adjacent fields due to the insufficiency of equipment and the openness of the terrain. Current estimates are from 200 to 340 of the large mammals, constructors of the artifacts, and from