Renegade Robot

Seven

"I already told you about the kids' rooms," Bethany continued, "but you've got to see for yourself. Come on".

She leaped off the couch and pulled Wyatt after her. Hurriedly she dragged him across the living room and up the wide winding staircase. Once again Wyatt was impressed with the wealth of The Gathering's hand-picked pro-creators. Every house in its district was like this, as far as he could tell, with a generous bedroom for every child, genuine wood floors and high beamed ceilings, the latest in kitchen appliances and well-trimmed gardens all around.

"See? See?" Bethany exclaimed, pointing first into one neat, clean bedroom, then another, then the third. "Nothing on the floor. Nothing blocking the door. Beds are made. Posters taken down. Posters taken down! Do you know what that means?"

"They were tired of the posters?" Wyatt guessed.

"No, no, of course not. Brad had one of Hominy Wells. Hominy Wells!! That's a healthy young man, perfectly healthy, and where is she now? I have no idea. Not a trace. I couldn't find it in the trash. I couldn't find it in any closet. I couldn't find it anywhere!"

"Did you ask him?"

"Of course I did," Bethany said. "He said he gave it away. Gave it to his friend Jim Smith. Who has a friend named Jim Smith?"

"Jim's been Brad's best friend since you guys moved in here," Wyatt reminded her.

"Brian had two posters of Slimma Verdeek," she went on. ignoring his comment. "Not that I disapprove of Slimma, not at all, although I don't know what he sees in her. No curves to speak of, not a one. Even her knees are a straight thin line. But then again, there's no accounting for taste, especially in a twelve year old boy. Where is she now? Do you see her? Is there a Slimma in the room? Not one. Not a trace. And I know what you're going to ask and yes, he said he gave it away to his best friend, Ricky Potts. Why are they giving them away? Why, I ask you, why?"

"Did you ask Brian?"

"Of course I did. Of course. He said he was bored with her. And that's not the worst of it. Brendan is the worst. The absolute worst. Come and look, come and see."

"What do you see?" she persisted after pulling Wyatt into Brendan's room.

"Um, not much," Wyatt said. It was curious. Brendan had been the messiest of the three, possessing a room fully littered with half-built structures made of various pieces and parts both of hand-me-down kits and newer ones of his own. Now there was nothing in his room, not even a scrap.

"They've suddenly turned into neat freaks," Bethany nearly shouted. "How could it happen? How? Only one way, only one, and you know what that is."

"They aren't infested with nanobots, if that's what you're getting at," Wyatt told her.

"And how do you know? How can you tell?"

"I'm Board Certified, remember? I can tell. There are zero indications of infestation anywhere in this house, or anywhere in The Gathering, as a matter of fact. That's well known. They track it every day. I know you know that."

"They missed it," Bethany said. "It's obvious, and it's not just the boys. You know about Blair already. He's probably over there right now, jumping into you-know-who's pile of fallen leaves. And then," she continued, lowering her voice, "and then there's me."

"What's the matter with you?" Wyatt asked.

"I'm blocked," Bethany replied. "You might as well know. I've come down with a kind of writer's block. It's very peculiar. I can still write almost anything, but, it's those intimate scenes. Somehow I just can't bring myself to do it. Oh, it's so upsetting. How am I going to finish 'Ramblings In The Swamp'? The proofs are due a week from Thursday and I can't even get their clothes off. It's terrible."

Wyatt had to keep from bursting out laughing. It was just too absurd. Instead, he turned away and started down the hallway towards the staircase.

"Wait, wait," Bethany called after him, "Where are you going? What are you going to do? You've got to help. You've got to do something!"

"I'll think about it," Wyatt replied, and hastened down the steps and nearly ran out the front door, inadvertently slamming the door behind him. Out on the front lawn, the three Hayward children were waiting for him.

"Uncle Y," Brad said, "What's the matter with mom?"

"Yeah, she's gone crazy," Brian added.

"Freaked out," Brendan contributed.

"I don't know, guys," Wyatt said. "She seems to think you've all been taken over by helpbots. It's nonsense. Ridiculous."

"Taken over?" Brad asked. "All of us? How?"

"Forget about it," Wyatt said. "I'll talk some sense into her later, but first I need to think. I'll be back in a bit," and he grabbed his bicycle, jumped on, and pedaled off down the street as fast as he could.