***
They exited the elevator on the penthouse floor and walked toward Ajax’s “executive suite.” The stairs would have been more practical for the one story ascent, but Winston was too exhausted to make the effort. The Mayor’s medallion dragging down his neck was simply too heavy to bear any longer.
The hall was empty after the departure of the mech wolf guards. Their footsteps on the hardwood floor provided the only sound. Winston fumbled with a key ring. Star thought that she would have to assist again, but he found the proper key and opened Ajax’s cell door.
The warrior replica robot swiveled toward him from his post at the window.
“Yes?” he said, disdain edging his voice.
“Please come out here, Ajax,” Winston said. “It’s time for you to assume your new post.”
Surprise shot across Ajax’s face. He looked toward Star for confirmation. She nodded back.
My gosh, it is truly happening! he thought. Be worthy of the occasion, Ajax.
He turned fully toward Winston and offered a reverent bow.
“As my gracious leader wishes,” he said.
Again, Winston felt a surge of gratitude for the respect he was being shown. Ajax stepped ponderously into the hallway and stood at attention. His head towered almost to the ceiling.
With trembling hands, Winston removed the Mayor’s medallion from around his neck and held it out. Ajax lowered himself to one knee, and bowed his head.
“By the power vested in me ...” Winston’s voice trailed off. “Well ... here it is.”
He hung the medallion around Ajax’s neck.
Ajax rose to his full, towering height and placed a fist over his “heart” in salute.
“Thank you,” he said. “I will do my utmost to honor this great office and my worthy predecessor.”
“Yes, quite so,” Winston said. “Well, carry on – Mayor Ajax.”
With a few powerful strides, Ajax was at the stairs and descending to the Mayor’s office suite.
Star took Winston’s arm and guided him toward the elevator.
“Let’s go to my place and relax a little,” she said.
8. Entr’acte
Winston sat despondently on the couch in Star’s living room, hands folded, gazing at the floor with its exquisite hand-made rug. His optical sensors traced the curlicue patterns twisting around the silk carpet, going nowhere – like his existence.
Around him spread an open, bright space with modernistic furnishings. Gas flames danced in a little fireplace. Abstract paintings adorned the walls, along with posters of romantic movie couples staring dreamily into each other’s eyes – including Scarlett O’Hara and Rhett Butler from the 20th century epic Gone with the Wind. The ambiance did nothing to elevate Winston’s mood, however.
Star entered the apartment from the hallway. Winston glanced up from his carpetorial examination.
“You’re back early,” he said.
“Yeah,” Star said, “Jack and Quincy are taking the day off, so they didn’t need me.”
“Uh huh,” Winston said.
“Goodness knows they need a day off,” Star said. “They’ve been working full blast for weeks.”
Winston nodded.
“So ... why don’t you come outside for a while?” Star said. “We could take a little stroll.”
He did not reply.
“It’s been five days, already,” Star said. “Can’t you snap out of it?”
Winston shrugged indifferently.
“You’ve hardly left the couch in all that time,” Star said.
Winston raised his eyes, but his head remained bowed.
“What’s the use?” he said. “Everybody hates me.”
“Nobody hates you,” Star said.
“Oh yeah? ‘You stink, Winston!’ Could have fooled me.”
Star sat beside him on the couch and caressed the back of his head. For a moment, Winston thought she might flick his deactivation switch. That would be fine – be sure to never turn it back on.
“You just weren’t cut out to be mayor, that’s all,” Star said.
“Imagine that!”
“Remember what once you told me?” Star said. “‘If somebody fails in one world, he can succeed in another.’ That’s from an old novel, isn’t it?”
“Candide,” Winston said.
“Right,” Star said. “So, if it was true hundreds of years ago, why can’t it still be true now?”
Winston shifted his gaze to her wearily.
“What am I cut out for, then?” he said. “I wish somebody’d tell me.”
Star kissed his cheek. “I think you were made for love.”
“Right ...”
“Besides, it was the same with the humans,” Star said. “Most of their leaders didn’t know what they were doing, either.”
“Thanks, Star. That makes me feel a lot better.”
She got up and smoothed her hands along her body, straightening her clothes. This was a gesture that never failed to draw Winston’s attention, but now he didn’t even notice.
“Jimmy stopped by again today,” she said. “I told him that you weren’t seeing any visitors yet.”
“What’s he doing these days?” Winston asked.
“He and Ajax have been discussing plans for a big water diversion project,” Star said. “He wanted your input.”
“Why?”
“Jimmy said that he doesn’t want to work for anybody except ‘the Boss.’”
An acrid smile disfigured Winston’s face.
“I think they’ll do fine without me,” he said. “What else is Mayor Ajax up to?”
“He’s organizing a big sports event,” Star said. “He calls it the ‘New Olympic Games.’”
“Makes sense,” Winston said, “he was modeled after an ancient Greek hero, after all.”
“Ajax says it’ll keep everybody occupied until he and Jimmy can organize productive work for them.”
“What about Iri?” Winston asked.
“He’s deactivated half the mech wolves and put them in reserve,” Star said. “He’s sent the rest to the city outskirts to guard against scrapper gangs.”
Winston nodded and went back to staring at the carpet. Star observed him for a minute contemplating ...
Then she came to a decision.
“I’ve got just the thing for us, Winston.”
“What?”
“You just wait here a minute,” Star said. “I’ll be right back.”
She moved off to her bedroom leaving Winston alone with his gloomy thoughts. He gazed out the picture window at the view from four stories up, envisioning himself broken on the pavement below like his statue in Heroes’ Square.
“I wish I had the courage to jump,” he muttered.
He lay down on his back to stare at the ceiling looming above him. Its creamy whiteness seemed to drift off toward infinity. Maybe if he gaped at it long enough, it would carry his mind away from this vale of tears ...
Star returned lugging two large backpacks. She set them on the floor beside the sofa, near Winston’s feet.
“What are those things for?” he asked.
“It’s time to begin our expedition westward,” Star said.
“Expedition?”
“You know,” Star said, “to find Dr. Jerry Che on the West Coast – so he can make you functional.”
She’d said this in a very matter of fact tone, as if discussing a trip to the corner park rather than a journey across the better part of a continent.
“I thought that was just a passing fancy.”
“Don’t ever say that to a lady, Winston.”
He turned away and buried his face in the sofa cushions. His voice came out muffled:
“The probability of Dr. Che having survived must be zero.”
“We don’t know that,” Star said. “He may have used Dr. Rackenfauz’s vaccines.”
Winston turned back helplessly. His optical sensors bulged. If he’d had the capabi
lity, he would have been weeping.
“B-but I just can’t – ”
“You can’t what?” Star said. “Leave town while you’ve got this depressed and feeling sorry for yourself thing going?”
“But the distance to the West Coast must approach 2,000 kilometers,” Winston said.
Star moved to the fireplace and switched off the gas. The flames vanished with finality.
“We’ll stop half way at Pickle Lake Castle for a tune up.” She wiggled her fingers. “I’ve learned a lot helping to repair the battle casualties, you know.”
Winston remained immobile. Star returned to the couch and knelt beside him.
“Don’t you want the conversion?” she said. “It would open up a whole new world for you – for us.”
“Why bother with a failure like me?” Winston said. “You’d only be disappointed.”
“Let me decide that,” Star said.
“Well ...”
“What’s the matter, Winston, don’t you think anybody could love you?”
At last, her words penetrated his thick gloom.
Is it possible? he wondered. Could she still care for me after everything that’s happened?
Slowly, painstakingly, he began to rise. His joints, though in good condition, almost seemed to creak from the effort.
“Oh, all right, Star,” he said. “I did promise, after all.”
He reluctantly hefted a pack, testing its weight. He slipped his arms through the straps.
“Nobody can accuse Winston Horvath of being a ‘bull shit artist,’ as my former master would put it,” he said.
Star shouldered on her own pack and led Winston toward the door. Then she stepped back and gestured for him to go first.
“Lead on, my hero,” she said.