Renegade Robot

Thirteen

They could tell from the various squeals and groans emanating from the bedroom that Bethany had found the equipment she desired, and was busily and happily churning out the longed-for scene she had been craving so intensely. Wyatt and Jalopy exchanged raised eyebrows and turned their attention to the kitchen supplies. There was a flurry of pounding on the front door, and Jalopy was worried that the police might be calling, but when they peeked out the window they saw it was merely Mr. Wonderful, making speeches and staging himself dramatically for the cameras. There was indeed a police presence, but those folks were occupied in studying the gathering horde. Oddly, the assorted members had come in full bedtime regalia. Most of them were wearing bathrobes and/or pajamas and nearly all wore slippers. Some had brought little overnight bags from which they were unpacking assorted items du toilette.

The driveway was being measured and marked out by a group of older men, who soon got to work assembling a rather large red and yellow tent around a large inflatable mattress. Wyatt assumed this had something to do with the mystical rites his sister had been talking about, but he wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

"This really sucks," was all he could think of to say. Jalopy didn't reply but plunked down on a chair and scratched his head.

"I was kind of disappointed with Mr. Wonderful," he said. "I mean, I've watched his show. He's usually kind of interesting, and always polite, but sneaking into the house like that was definitely not polite."

"The guy's a clown," Wyatt said.

"No, really," Jalopy countered, "He's usually got some kind of oddball angle, like people who resemble their pets, you know? Or people without arms who climb mountains, that kind of stuff. Human interest. The things people do."

"You want to see the things people do?" Wyatt asked, "How about people who join freakish cults and surround other people's houses and perform bizarre rituals? How about people who lose their minds every time the TV tells them to?"

"Well, you do see that pretty much every day," Jalopy smiled. "I'm talking about weird, not normal, like that guy who could carve utensils out of redwood trees using only his penis".

"Sporks?" Wyatt wondered.

"Salad spoons, mostly," Jalopy replied.

Bethany came rushing back into the kitchen carrying several sheets of notebook paper filled with scribbles.

"Goodness!" she exclaimed. "Look at the time! It's nearly six. It'll be getting dark soon, and I simply have to get this chapter to my agent pronto!"

"I'm not opening that door," Wyatt said, "Not while that mob is out there.”

"Oh, them?" Bethany walked over to the window and peered out the corner of a shade. "I wouldn't worry about them. They'll be much too busy soon to worry about ... oh no, is that? Yes, that is who I think it is. It's that Clarissa Martel! Wouldn't you know it?"

Bethany opened the shade and started fiddling with the window latch, unlocking it and raising the window.

"Clarissa Martel," she yelled as she leaned out the window. "Just you listen to me, you little hussy."

"Bethany Hayward. is that you?" they heard Clarissa call back. "Will you tell your stupid husband to get out of my yard, will you do that?"

"What's that?" Bethany said.

"Tell that moron to stay away. He's caused me enough trouble already."

"Oh my," Bethany said as Wyatt pulled her back in and closed the window, re-locking it.

"What is the matter with you?" he shouted.

"She called him a moron," Bethany said, sitting down unsteadily. "She actually said that. Oh Wyatt, do you see what that means? Everything's changing already, I can feel it, like a curse being lifted. Blessed Savior, what a day, what a night!"

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you," Wyatt said with a sigh.

"You don't have to do anything with me, little brother," she informed him. "I'm leaving, right now, thank you. I have important business to attend to if I want to get back in time for the rites.”

"You're coming back?"

"Of course I'm coming back. I wouldn't miss it for the world! I've been waiting so long for this. We all have. It's our most important, most solemn occasion. You have no idea, no idea, I am sure.”

"You're right," he said, "I don't, and I don't think I want to.”

"Then I'll tell you," she replied, looking around for a jacket she believed she had misplaced somewhere in the room. First we all put on blindfolds. Then we are handed a wooden cube with raised numbers on it, kind of like dice only with the same number of bumps on each side. There will be forty four of the chosen. Oh, I do hope I'm chosen. I'm certain I will be. I was promised."

"Go on," Jalopy interrupted, suddenly becoming interested.

"Well, then, there are forty four like I said, twenty two men and twenty two women, all Church members of course, and all of potential child-bearing age, the women, I mean, all within the general range, that is, not post-menopausal, in other words. In any case, the Speaker calls out numbers and each pair, that is the man and the woman who each have that number of bumps on their cube are led into the Sacred Space and there, in perfect silence and decorum, perform the act of procreative intent."

"What?" Wyatt was incredulous. "They're going to have sex in my driveway?"

"The act," Bethany held up her hand, "of procreative intent. It is a serious interaction.”

"At random, with strangers.”

"Probably not strangers," Bethany smiled. "We are a rather small community as you know. But we will take precautions to disguise our knowledge of each other. The blindfolds, of course, and the perfume. We will all be soaking ourselves in the stuff so as to mask any individual body odors."

"That's disgusting," Wyatt said.

"It sounds like an orgy," Jalopy said, "Very much in line with many historical cults.”

"Hardly," Bethany scoffed. "We are certainly not a cult and it is most indubitably not an orgy. It is a service we are performing in the interests of Mankind. But enough small talk. I must be off.”

"Yeah, me too," Jalopy said. "I have a date with Cecilia, remember?"

"Who?" Wyatt asked.

"From the Center? The one who's going to fix us up once all of this blows over?" Jalopy reminded him. "Anyway, I think we can get out now. No one's on the steps now. They must be taking a dinner break or something. You want to come with?"

"I don't know," Wyatt said. "It'd probably be easier for you if I didn't.”

"I think you're right," Jalopy patted him on the shoulder. "I'll be back too. No, not for the orgy! I'll think of something," he added, and then, under his breath, added further, "maybe.”

Bethany and Jalopy headed for the front door, but Wyatt made sure to take his sister's key away from her.

"No more unexpected visitors," he warned her, and she shook her head and smiled.

"Don't worry, Wyatt," she kissed him on the cheek. "Everything is going to be all right.”

"And how do you know that?" he asked, but she and Jalopy were already outside and hurrying down the steps and away into the twilight.