could not be any larger than could fit in the dwellings therein. All of this calculation came straight out of some portion of the bible, just as the church's doctrines were also eclectically selected from that same book. Despite its small size, or maybe because of it, the church and its members were financially quite well-off, with everyone sharing to some precise extent in the profits of each others' works, the printed and audio books of Bethany Lorenzo Hayward included, along with her related merchandise, including sleepwear and personalizable intimate accessories.
As Wyatt went past the Simpson house, he saw that Blair was there, raking over a large pile of fallen leaves. Wyatt waved and shouted,
"Hey Blair," and heard Blair call back, laughingly,
"Hey Chump".
Wyatt rode on, wondering what that was all about. He and Blair had been on formally friendly terms for years. He found out soon enough, for when he arrived at his sister's house, the boys were out front waiting for him in the front yard. They surrounded him as he dismounted, all of them chattering all at once, asking a lot of questions that Wyatt didn't understand, and all of them also calling him 'Chump' as if that was his given name.
"Boys, boys," Bethany shouted, "leave him alone! Wyatt, come in, come in," and she shooed the boys away and grabbed Wyatt by the arm and marched him into the house.
"What's going on?" Wyatt asked as Bethany led him into the living room and plunked him down on a couch.
"It's all over the place," she told him. "Watch!".
On the wall, the frantic news network was playing, trumpeting the latest disaster.
"CHUMPS FOOLED! SNAKE ON THE LOOSE!" were the headlines streaming repeatedly across the bottom of the screen. In the upper-right corner were close-up shots, playing in a loop, of the little ape thing spitting out its ticker tape, and there, of course, were Jalopy and Wyatt with goofy grins just letting this apparent apocalypse go on without a care in the world.
"Oh for goodness sake!," Wyatt exclaimed. "We didn't know! They told us to look for a snake. Does that look like a snake to you?"
"It's a metaphor," Bethany explained. "Like the serpent in the Garden of Eden."
"I know that now," Wyatt murmured, thinking, shoot, there goes my career down the drain. Bethany turned off the broadcast and sat down next to him on the couch. For a few moments they remained side by side in silence, and then Bethany said.
"Okay. We know about your problem. Now, about mine."
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.
Eight
Jefferson Ash had been Wyatt's boss at Flip Brothers Auto Parts until he'd invented the self-inflating car tire, which automatically maintains a car's recommended air pressure at all times. After quickly becoming rich, he imported a Ukrainian bride, fathered a daughter, and received an irresistible invitation from The Church of Ultimate Reclamation. Although Wyatt hadn't spoken with Ash since a certain awkward episode, he rode straight to his house after leaving Bethany's. Ash was in his front yard, wearing nothing but shorts and sandals, casually trimming roses. Life had continued to be nothing but blessings for this man, for whom money had indeed purchased happiness.
"Hullo Wyatt," he said in his usual quiet manner as Wyatt pulled up. Jefferson Ash was as ordinary a person as anyone could ever hope to be. He was impossible to describe without resorting to terms like "normal" and "average" and "light brown and thinning". He did have a
little pot belly which his three year old loved to pat and say "tummy tummy tummy tummy tummy" all the time.
"Hi Jeff," Wyatt said, hopping off the bike and walking over. His face had broken into a wide grin and he couldn't help himself but finally let out a gigantic guffaw, nearly knocking himself off his feet.
"Something funny, I take it," Ash remarked.
"It's Beth," Wyatt sputtered. "She thinks she's possessed because she's having trouble cranking out a sex scene for her latest porno. I mean, what in the world?" and he laughed again so hard he did topple over, landing on his butt on the driveway.
"Possessed you say?" Ash inquired. His eyebrows raised along with uttering the word. This was not something a member of the Church would take lightly. Possession was certainly among one of their central creeds.
"Nanobots," Wyatt gasped, "she thinks some microscopic helpbots are cleaning up her dirty little mind!"
"Seriously?" Ash pondered the implications as Wyatt staggered to his feet. "I suppose it is possible," he continued.
"Oh come on, Jeff," Wyatt said, "it's ridiculous and you know it. It's just the Frantics have got everybody all screwed up. They're seeing The Singularity under every bush, behind every shadow."
"I heard you saw it yourself, in person, just this morning," Ash casually dropped.
"Don't be silly," Wyatt told him. "You know as well as I do that the whole thing's just trumped up for ratings and income. The Church is in on it, you know that. TV, advertising, publications, panic products. Everybody's making