Renegade Robot

very pleased to meet you too. My name is Wilbur Cranshaw, but you probably know me better by my public name, Mr. Wonderful."

  “No, I don't know you or your public name," Wyatt spat, “I only know I want you out of my house, right now."

  “I'm afraid that's impossible, “Mr. Wonderful informed him. “I have a duty to perform, and on behalf of the church, the city, and the public at large, I will perform my duty, and you, my young friend, will be glad that I did."

  “I don't know what you're talking about," Wyatt said, as Jalopy appeared in the hallway.

  “Woah!."he said, “Mr. Wonderful! What are you doing here?"

  “Please to meet you sir," said the man, “and you are?"

  “Call me Jalopy," Jalopy said, “most people do."

  “Then I will too," said the very formal Mr. Wonderful. He glanced around, and decided on the living room as the place to set up shop. He sauntered into the room, inspected all the chairs and took the most comfortable one for himself. From the folds of his jacket he extracted a sort of tablet, which he touched in various ways as to bring it to life in color and sound. It was a fully featured broadcast-studio-on-glass.

  “I am here," he said to the glass, “in the home of a certain Wyatt Lorenzo, otherwise known by different names these days, none of which I shall repeat, out of respect for the gentleman whose hospitality I currently enjoy."

  With a few more swipes he directed the scene at Wyatt, Bethany and Jalopy, who were still in a clump in the hallway. Bethany seemed to realize she was on screen, for she began to pat down her hair and smiled and swayed womanishly into the room.

  “Bethany Hayward," she introduced herself. “You may know me by my works," she added.

  “Indeed," Mr. Wonderful narrated, “the very famous author Bethany Hayward is with us this afternoon, as well as Mister Jalopy, on your right, and Mr. Lorenzo, on the left. Gentlemen," he waved his arm at them, “Please do make yourselves comfortable."

  Nearly against his will, Wyatt found himself complying with Mr. Wonderful's instructions. Soon he was seated directly across from the man, looking straight into the camera.

  “We at Human Interest International are, as always, primarily concerned with the individual," Mr. Wonderful was saying. “However, in this case, more is at stake. There is alarm amongst the people. There have been reports, rumors, dare I say even a note of panic? These are complicated times indeed. At the heart of the recent upheaval is one man, the very same Mr. Lorenzo who is kind enough to join us today. Around this man are swirling various controversies, dangerous currents, perhaps even enormities beyond imagining. It is my sworn duty to dig, to delve, to penetrate the very depths in pursuit of the truth, and I promise I will do so to the fullest extent of my capabilities. Now then, Mr. Lorenzo, I would like first of all to give you the opportunity to make a statement on your own behalf."

  “Go to hell," Wyatt replied, “And get out of my house right now!"

  “I'm afraid I can't do that," Mr. Wonderful replied.

  “Is that so?."Wyatt asked. He stood up, and beckoned Jalopy with a slight head motion to join him over by the window. There, while pretending to have a private conversation with his friend, he unlatched and opened the window, then together they quickly turned, lifted Mr. Wonderful out of his seat, and threw him out of the opening. Wonderful landed with a thud, his studio bashing his nose as they hit the ground together.

  “Wyatt!" Bethany exclaimed, rising from her seat. “That was incredibly rude."

  “I'll tell you what's rude," he turned on her, “Breaking into my house in the middle of this emergency, that's what I call rude."

  “You promised you'd help me," Bethany repeated. “You said you'd return and you didn't, so I came here."

  “Bringing that moron with you."

  “He snuck in behind me," she explained. “Really, I had no idea he was even there."

  “I don't believe you," Wyatt said, “And if you don't want to go out the same way he did, I suggest you help me figure out what the heck we're going to do to get rid of all those people."

  “I don't think that's going to be possible," Bethany told him. “Those are Church people. They're planning a vigil. They expect to be here as long as it takes."

  “As long as it takes what?"

  “As long as it takes you to call off the catastrophe," she told him. Wyatt was speechless. It was Jalopy who brought up the obvious question.

  “What catastrophe?"

  “The snake, of course," she told them, matter-of-factly. “The Serpent from Hell who is planning to complete the conquest of Mankind."

  “Oh come on," Wyatt snickered. “That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

  “Nevertheless," Bethany went on, “that's what they think, and they're doing what they believe they must."

  “Surrounding my house?"

  “Not just that," she told him. “They're performing the Rites of Ultimate Reclamation. Don't you see, Wyatt? This is the moment we have all been waiting for, the reason the Church was founded. This is it, at long last!"

  “No it isn't," he told her. “They're wrong, and you're wrong. This is nothing. Nothing, I tell you"

  “But the snake."she started to say.

  “There was no snake!."he yelled. “There is no snake. It's not a snake. It wasn't a snake! How many ways do I have to say it?"

  “We all saw it," she corrected him. “Remember, it was broadcast."

  “So you saw for yourself it wasn't a snake," he said. “It was more like a monkey. It was four inches tall. It had two legs, two arms. It had a head with ears and eyes, a nose and a mouth. How was that a snake?"

  “The snake comes in many forms," she said. “The devil is a master of disguise."

  “The devil? Oh for heaven's sake! It was planting butterfly seeds!"

  “At least that's what it said it was doing," Jalopy chimed in.

  “It's real purpose is shrouded in mystery," Bethany said. “Oh, it's just so exciting! And so sexy," she added. “Oh. Oh. Oh my God. I think it's coming! I think I can feel it! Quick, quick, do you have a pen and some paper? Oh yes, oh yes. Oh my," and she rushed off to Wyatt's bedroom where she remembered he kept some notebooks.

  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 ab
out 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,