00051

The house church met in the small apartment of one of its members. Some of the folks sat in chairs, some sat on the floor, others simply stood, leaning on a wall, and still others walked about, getting water or juice or snacks. Albert Zoeniga, Jane Ashton, Kelli O’Mally, Nina McCleer, and several others filled the small rooms of the apartment. 

Albert Zoeniga spoke informally and the assembly listened.

"We used to meet at the Grametz's place once in awhile, but, unfortunately, they have been taken into custody under false charges of drug dealing, as has happened to Brother Simon when he went to Earth. It seems Gov. Bright is tightening his squeeze on our state-unapproved church."

Nina McCleer gave her opinion. "I think Bro. Simon's way didn't work very well. I know God can do something through Simon's choice of actions, and the subsequent misfortune which befell him, and I'm not saying God won't in the long run make something come of this, but shouldn't we at least consider other methods for trying to persuade Gov. Bright to return our loved ones- which now also includes the Grametzes among the taken? You all know by this time what I am thinking that maybe we should do.”

Bro. Tomas wondered, "If we follow your idea, is it Biblical? Is it something Jesus would approve? Can you show me in the Bible where doing these public protests you talk about is advocated, or even just allowed?"

Nina McCleer shrugged. "I'm- honestly, I don't know, I am not sure if I can..."

Kelli came to the rescue. "Nina, why not tell us what you think would be the way to proceed, if we did want to protest, and then afterward we can each cast a vote to decide on the matter. Does everyone agree with my idea? A show of hands, please."

The majority raised their hands to hear out Nina and then vote on whether they should do what she suggested. Jane Ashton also lifted her hand with the majority.

Kelli O’Mally noticed Jane's finger and commented, "Nice ring, Sister Jane."

Jane smiled. "Thank you, Sis Kelli."

"Did you set a date?" asked another.

"Soon," Albert Zoeniga promised.

Nina McCleer chuckled. "Congrats, Jane and Albert. Ahem, can we now get to the business at hand?"

Kelli assented. "You have the floor, Nina."

"Thanks. Okay, all of you know that, while I am concerned about the loss of loved ones, I am especially concerned about a special loved one. I share your grief in these matters. I am of the belief that Xavier- that is, Gov. Bright took away my own husband and probably made him a slave miner, although Xavier tried to convince me my George was trapped under rubble in a cave-in while inspecting the mines."

They murmured their acknowledgement of being aware of her situation.

"And I want to thank you folks for making me feel welcome. I am particularly grateful to Kelli for letting me impose myself on her when I could no longer live at the Governor's House with Gov. Bright."

"You're welcome."

Nina summarized her plan's goals. "We should draw more attention to the plight or our loved ones, wherever they may be. People hear the rumors and then move on with their own lives. We need to remind them of the stories they have heard about. We must make them remember that the stories of kidnappings are true, and these disappearances involve genuine people, who are affected by them, people like me and you, who wonder what's become of the missing people. I think maybe we can get the other citizens and also the people of Earth, when they see our persistence, to join us in demanding the Governor answers our questions- Where are our missing ones? Why did you take them away- Have most of the missing been taken for merely meeting together to worship God the way they wanted to worship Him, and the way they thought God wanted them to? -I imagine not only church people are kidnapped. My George is gone, so that is probably proof right there that there are other kidnappings besides us, if the Governor's story turns out to be a lie.- Surely, among the citizens not attending these church meetings, some have also been taken, for whatever reasons.”

The assembled citizens listened.

“Yes, we need to remind Hope- and Earth, too- of all of this. And we must do it all peacefully, so as not to offend the public, or risk hurting anybody in our protests. Of course, Gov. Bright will be offended and his pride will be hurt if we protest.."

She let out a sigh. "Oh, what a terrible sin we are guilty of at our illegal house church! We did not seek the approval and permission to meet for worshiping our own way from the Religion Board. But how can man regulate God and his worshipers?"

From the next room, also crowded with listeners, a voice shouted, "Amen, Sister!"

Nina McCleer said, “We need to get the attention of the people living here on the World of Hope. We need to get the notice of the tourists visiting from Earth. We need to be heard by anybody and everybody we can get to listen, so Earth realizes our problem, so that the newscasts cover the story because of public concern and pressure, so they stop covering up the story due to the Governor's manipulations and intimidations. We must get our two worlds talking about the situation at the dinner table. It is important for our Leaders to see us and hear us. We must try to get the public to care, to see that there are many affected by Gov. Bright's misdeeds. If God wills it, perhaps we can persuade the folks to want to see this injustice ended!”

Skeptical, an young brother about the same age as Albert Zoeniga, named Frankler, inquired, "This protesting- do you really think it can make a difference?"

"How would Gandhi answer that question, do you think, Bro. Frankler? Or how about Martin Luther King, Jr.? I suspect, if we plan it well, if we carry on a protest in the proper way, I believe we can make people start to care, and the public- and Earth- will insist Gov. Bright change his ways. And to return our missing loved ones. I warn all of you, however, that at first it is more than likely the Governor will increase his hostility toward us. He will be desperate to shut us up, and to stop our criticizing him and his ways. In case you people who have lived on this world for a long time didn't yet notice, he hates to be told he is wrong. We must resolve to stand firm. For the sakes of our missing loved ones."

"Won't the Security Agents just track us down and take us away, one-by-one? Like they did Billy Boy, or the Grametz family?"

"Maybe. But it will take awhile for them to get us all, even if they do decide to track us down one-by-one, as you say. And if the Security Agents learn of our meeting places, of course, they can catch us all in one fell swoop. Therefore, I recommend we hunt out a new, more discrete, secret meeting places for our worship services."

An elderly lady named Tracey volunteered, "I think I can find such a place. I know of a good one, but first let me look into it before I say much more- if it's okay with the rest of the gang. I want to be sure it is a place which is truly ignored by the regular population of Sparkle City.”

“Good, good, Sis. Tracey. Please check it out," said an middle-aged man.

Nina McCleer said, "Our protests must be conducted at strategic, public locations, where Gov. Bright will hopefully be unwilling to use brutal force to disperse us. Our first protest should be done at a place that will be easily associated in the minds of the people, by its very nature, with the fate of our missing loved ones. It should be a place that makes a connection in the mind of the public with what's become of our loved ones." Nina McCleer took a sip of her juice.

"What kind of a place will do that?" asked Jane Ashton.

“And how long until we start holding protests?" Albert Zoeniga inquired.

Nina McCleer beamed. "I know just the perfect place. I took the liberty of reading my husband's papers- Sorry, George, wherever you are. I learned the loading schedules of the fuel ore onto the freighters that deliver it to Earth. It's all done, obviously, at the rocketport. We go there and we block their loading operation as they try to load the fuel ore from the mines. We delay the schedule. If we can keep the protest going for a half hour, stopping their work, before we get chased away, that will be great. At any rate, we do it until the news reporters show up, if we can. And I am sure the tourists at the rocketport will see us, as well. We'll be such a public spectacle, everyone will see us, and Xavier and Security Leader Clyden won't dare beat us and use thuggery on us during the protest. Too many witnesses. Instead, I am sure Sec. Ldr. Clyden will be ordered to disperse us in a nonvielent way-"

Frankler raised his eyebrows questioningly. "So you are counting on Gov. Bright to be... careful not to be violent with us, because there is an audience?”

“I'm only guessing, true. Honestly, I cannot be as certain as I would like to be. Who can really know?" She took another sip of juice. "Let's face it, I may be wrong. I know that. If I am not wrong, though, I figure we will have a short time until the rocketport guards come, followed by more Security Agents. Until then, as they wait for specific orders regarding how to handle the protest, we can shout on bullhorns our message, why we protest. And we can hand out flyers, maybe get people, citizens and tourists alike, to sign petitions- In what short time we have if we protest there, before the guards come, we do what we can to get out our message.”

Tomas asked, "Where will we get bullhorns?"

"Oh, we keep a bunch of them on hand next to the hymnals," Kelli O’Mally kidded.

"When the guards come, we scatter, so that they have to split up their forces to chase us. But before that, before we even hold a protest, we must scout out multiple escape routes from our site, the best routes to use, to elude our pursuers when they come after us. Okay, that's my suggestion." Nina McCleer downed the rest of the juice.”

Kelli O’Mally asked if anyone else had anything to say. "If not, let's pray about it and then vote whether we should do the protesting or not.”

(c) 2012 drk

00050

Number 317 sat on the edge of his cot in the mining dormitory. Today's shift had been uneventful. Just shovel and dig and load carts. No one gave him a risky job, such as digging out volatile pure fuel nuggets from the ground. True, pure fuel deposits were not uncovered every day, but it happened with enough regularity almost to make No. 317 the resident expert, because of his experience, for digging them out when a miner did find a pocket of the pure fuel rocks.

Something troubled him. He tried to figure out what. It wasn't the way most of the miners regarded him as a pariah, especially during recreational time. The others discussed digging techniques, or bragged how many tons of ore they had dug that day, stuff like that. The miners always gathered together at the end of a shift like a collective. Yet almost no one wanted to fellowship with 317, because, to this day, he could not muster up the proper devotion for their Governor, the way the others loved him.

Sure, their ostracizing of him concerned No. 317, but that wasn't what sat in the back of his mind, nagging him at the moment.

Well then, what caused his unease? What was the problem? He felt an inner disturbance all the time, lately- no, ever since he woke up as a miner. But the feeling seemed to increase dramatically, since the visit of Gov. Bright himself to see 317. After that meeting, 317 got the distinct impression he should know something about Gov. Bright, something nobody was telling him. Not all the hoopla they told the miners when they woke up for the first time, how wonderful the Governor was, but something else. A secret? What, though, was that secret? If only they didn't keep blasting that infernal digging music/noise, so he could think!

He lay down and still tried to untangle the confusing mystery, drifting off to sleep, floating away to his miner's dreams...

No. 317 smashed at some extremely stubborn boulder blocking progress for a new tunnel in the fuel ore mine. The blue-greenish rock spanned the whole width of the shaft's pathway. He smashed at it with his sledge hammer, trying to clear the path, threatening to break the sledge with his fury. He wanted to demolish the obstruction in the worst way, and yet whatever he did to the rock showed itself to be completely impotent against the monster boulder. No matter how hard he brought down the sledge hammer against it, he was unable to even scratch the surface of the 

huge stone.

317 paused, tired, very tired. Too tired for a miner to be. His chest heaved as he panted for breath. He wiped the sweat from his brow. Behind him, the rest of his Mining Team cheered him on. "Go, No. 317, go! For the Governor! For Earth! For the World of Hope! For the people! Go, 317, go! Smash that rock! Don't let it get the better of you! Smash it for Gov. Bright!"

No. 317 resumed his task, with new determination. He attacked the boulder with all the vigor he could muster. Grunting, he swung the sledge wildly, like a crazed animal. He yelled at the rock and continued to swing away... and then he stopped to examine his progress. 

None. None at all. The boulder remained in place, unscratched, blocking the way. But he had to get through it! He sensed that beyond it lay paradise and contentment.

He shook his head in frustration. Immediately after that, the booing started. His hissing team-mates tossed rocks at him, pelting him in his head and on his shoulders. The stones stung.

"Boo! You're a lousy miner! You're no good!"

One of them postulated, "Maybe it's because he doesn't really like our beloved Governor!"

"Yeah, maybe that's it!" another agreed.

Soon, the others picked up the complaint. The angry miners shouted and shouted at 317.

"Wait, wait-" No. 317 faced them. He wanted to reason with them, to explain how hard the boulder turned out to be.

Naturally, the miners yelled at him all the louder. "What a low-life! What a dirtbag! He doesn't love our beloved Gov. Bright! He doesn't love our beloved Leader!"

"Why, No. 317, is this true? I am very disappointed to hear that."

317 turned to the voice. There, in front of the boulder, stood Gov. Bright.

“Gov. Bright!" Embarrassed because he couldn't damage the boulder for the Governor, 317 asked, "Let me try again, Sir!"

Gov. Bright graciously stepped out of the way. "Please do."

No. 317 hammered it with a vengeance. He must have struck it with over a hundred mighty blows, as hard as he could. Still no results. "If- if I can just get through this rock, I am sure I can learn to love you, Gov. Bright!"

"Really? I say, the reason you can't smash through it, is because you don't really want to," Gov. Bright told him.

"I- I don't?" What a funny idea. But he didn't laugh. After all, it was the Governor who suggested it. Bewildered, he asked, "Then- what do I want?"

A woman's voice asked, "Don't you know? Don't you remember, George?"

"Huh?" He saw an attractive woman standing closeby, between him and the Governor.

Who is she? He tried to think... "Nina? You're- Nina!”

And with that, he awoke with a start, falling out his cot and calling out Nina's name. The jolt of landing knocked the sleep cobwebs from his skull. "Who's Nina? Who's... George?"

No. 317 couldn't get back to sleep. He waited, lying still and quiet, until sleep period ended. The buzzer sounded then, announcing the start of a new work period after breakfast and the inspiration rally.

He started his shift on time, but that strange dream interfered with his concentration. Leading the team today, No. 25 demanded, "Now what's the problem, No. 317? You're more unfocused and unmotivated than usual, hard as it is to believe that were possible.”

“I- I'm not sure what the problem is," 317 replied. "I had a most disturbing dream, and I can't quite remember it, and yet, I cannot get it out of my mind."

No. 25 sighed. "317, you are pathetic. I want you to go see the miner doctor. Tell him about it, before your dreams become problems. I've seen it happen before."

He sent 317 off with a human guard escort to the miner medical facility on the surface above, on the side of the mountain opposite the entrance to the mines.

Dr. Glom, the on-duty doctor, listened to 317's story. "I see. Well, No. 317, it's really nothing to worry about. I think I have the cure for you." He fished around in a medicine cabinet crowded with pill bottles and salves and more pill bottles. The doctor pulled out a box of tablets. On the carton was the name Wipe-Out Enhancers. He held out a large pill for 317. "Take this, and you won't have anymore of those troubling dreams."

317 took the pill out of the doctor's hand and stared at it. "Okay, thanks, Dr. Glom. Um, what is it?”

Dr. Glom held out a glass of water. "I can guarantee it will work. I can explain what it is, but it is too technical for me to explain it to you in a way that you can understand it."

The guard said, "Well, go on, No. 317, just take it then."

317 popped it in his mouth and drank down the water. "So I won't have anymore troubling dreams tonight, Dr. Glom?"

Dr. Glom smiled reassuringly. "You'll be okay, now, No. 317. I had heard about you for awhile, and I was thinking of giving you one of these pills ever since you came to my attention. I always hesitate, though, to hand these pills out, because of the possible side-effects."

"Side effects?"

"Oh, nothing to worry about. You're still alive, so I think you're okay. Usually the Governor likes to see if the problems resolve themselves. It isn't cost-effective giving these pills every time a miner has a problem like yours, because the cure more often than not kills you. But you are still alilve." He told the guard, "You can take him back to his work detail. He will be okay, now.”

When No. 317 returned to his assigned duty for the day, the guard informed No. 25, "Dr. Glom said there may be some drowsiness and confusion, so he may be off his quota today."

No. 25 frowned. "That's too bad. I guess the rest of us will have to work harder again to make up for his deficiencies AGAIN."

317 sheepishly hung his head. "Sorry..."

"Well, maybe it will be worth the inconvenience, if you finally get cured and can pull your share of the load for once.”

No. 317 worked as hard as he could. From time to time No. 25 glanced over at him, to see how he was doing. And from time to time, 317 also glance over at 25 and the others, to see if anyone was looking. When a moment came that he was unobserved, he took out the pill from between the back of his tongue and his molars. A big pill to keep hidden there all that time without accidentally swallowing it. And to speak with it while it was hidden in his mouth- But he had pulled it off. Nobody was the wiser.

He dropped the pill into the dust of the ground, stepping down on it and crunching the pill with his big boot until it was pulverized and mixed in with the other dust and dirt on the floor of the mine tunnel.

317 told himself, Something's going on here, and I don't know what. If only I could remember... Next recreation period, I will try to find No. 248- maybe he will be free, also. If we can get together and I can discuss the matter with him, maybe he will have some answers, or at least some sensible advice.

(c) 2012 drk

00049

Albert Zoeniga pulled out the rickety chair for Jane, who sat in it and he gently pushed her chair in to the table. And on the table sat his specially prepared meal of roast buffalo and mashed potatoes, raised on the World of Hope. "Oh, you went all out, making dinner tonight, Albert! It must be something special indeed that you have planned.”

Albert set two glasses down upon the small table, along with a bottle of Hope's finest champagne. Soft, romantic music played in the background. "It is a special occasion."

Jane Ashton had a good idea what to expect. She grinned. "I can't wait to find out what it is. It's not the anniversary of that award you got last year in soccer, is it?" She took a bite of his mashed potatoes.

"Ha, ha, yup, that's it," he chuckled. He sat across from her at the table. "You'll find out.”

“Albert, those mashed potatoes are wonderful! I didn't know you could cook."

"Well, I got pointers from Kelli during the slow parts of the shift at work today."

"Ah, that explains your sudden culinary skills."

He reached over and held her hand. "I hope you find everything here to your liking- and not just the food, either."

She waved her free hand in a broad sweep of the air, taking in the whole of his small studio apartment. "Albert, what's not to like? You took a miserable dump and made it shine, the way you organized and arranged things."

The landline phone rang. Albert Zoeniga pretended he didn't hear it. "Thanks, Jane. You know I have good taste, and not just in apartment decorating."

She tried the roast buffalo. "Yes, you certainly do. You certainly picked a delicious cut of bison for tonight. Very good taste."

"Actually, that was the only one they had at the market today," Albert Zoeniga sheepishly revealed. "The butcher told me that there was a bit of a shortage, since they sent so much of the bison to Earth and the rest was bought up for some planning committee for the upcoming Sparkle City Day festivities."

"Well, yeah, okay, but technically you still chose that cut. Al, aren't you going to answer the phone? I mean, half the people of Hope aren't even lucky enough to get one with their apartment, and here you got one, and you pay it no mind."

"It can wait. Eventually, whoever it is will hang up. I forgot to turn it off, so as not to be interrupted.”

“It just might be important," Jane Ashton teased.

"Too late, they hung up. Besides, it can't be as important as what I have to say. Probably, Kelli wants to give me an update on Brother Simon's trip to Earth. But that can wait until tomorrow. Tonight, it's my time with my dearest Jane."

Jane Ashton, all aglow, enjoyed being pampered and the center of Albert's attention. "Oh, you! You always did show me such consideration. So tell me, what's so special about tonight, that you won't let anybody spoil it?”

Albert Zoeniga reached into a pocket and pulled out a small, velvet covered box. He set it on the table and took both her hands in his. "Jane, we have known each other for a long time. We have been dating for almost as long. When you were going to return to Earth, to finish up business, I had this unsettling feeling that I may never see you-"

A loud knock on the door startled Jane. She rolled up her eyes. Albert muttered, "Oh, for crying out loud! First the phone, now the door-“

Jane Ashton shrugged. "I guess you forgot to hang out the 'Do Not Disturb' sign."

He squeezed her hands and then let go. "To be continued," he told her unromantically. He went to the door. Without opening it, he called, "Go away; whatever it is, it can wait. Come back tomorrow."

The knocking became mild pounding. Osmo Martin’s voice called back, "Al, let me in. This is important!"

Jane and Albert sighed. Jane shook her head. "Of course- it's Osmo at the door, just when we are in the middle of something big."

Much annoyance in his voice, Albert  Zoeniga wanted to know, as he yanked open the door, "What, Osmo, what is so important?"

Jane Ashton was the first to notice the uniform Osmo wore. "What's with that getup? It's not Halloween already, is it?"

Osmo Martin said, "I had my first mission tonight. Didn't you guys hear? I am sure some bystanders saw it from their homes. I would think someone would have already told you about it. I came to warn you two and talk some sense into your heads."

He came in and shut the door behind.

Albert Zoeniga asked, puzzled, "What are you talking about? We didn't hear anything. We didn't want to be interrupted, so we kept off the radio and refused to answer the phone. In fact, we're right in the middle of something special, Osmo."

Osmo Martin glanced at the set table, the champagne, the small jewelry box. "Oh. Sorry. But this is more important-”

“Excuse me?" challenged Jane. "I don't think so."

"Hon, let's hear what he has to say. Osmo looks very serious."

Osmo Martin informed Albert and Jane what had happened to the Grametzes earlier that night. Jane and Albert were shocked.

Concerned for his pals, Osmo said, "My advice to you, as a friend, is to leave that illegal house church group, while you still can, before you're caught up with them!”

“What? Osmo, you know we can't do that. We think God wants Albert and me at that church," Jane Ashton answered.

"You see, Osmo?!" asked Albert Zoeniga. "I told you- I told you when you first accepted that job with the Governor, that taking that job was a bad idea. Now you are helping them to raid the homes of good people! If I were you, I’d take off that uniform and burn it!”

And Jane Ashton said, "What made you want to come to warn us, anyway, Osmo? Aren't you being disloyal to the great and powerful Oz, I mean, Gov. Bright?”

Osmo Martin fretted, "You don't understand. These friends of yours are dealing in illegal drugs! They apprehended Bro. Simon when he got to Earth because of drugs, and now we also got the Grametzes!"

Albert Zoeniga found the story incredible. So did Jane. She insisted, "Osmo, that's ridiculous! There's no chance either the Grametzes or Bro. Simon are involved with drugs! Totally a lie and unbelievable!"

"You better believe it, if you know what's good for you. I saw it with my own eyes tonight, at the raid. I saw them find the drugs. Why do you think I came to warn you? Your friends are deceiving you. Get out of there before you get caught with them. I took a risk coming here immediately after the raid. I should be heading back to Sheila's birthday party, but I had to warn you. Lucky for me, the lighting on this block leaves much to be desired. It wouldn't be good, if someone spotted me, in my new Security Agent uniform, coming over here. It wouldn't be good for either me or you."

Albert Zoeniga tried to convince his friend. "Osmo, they don't do drugs! If drugs were found, they were planted on them. Gov. Bright can't stand that we obey a Higher Authority than he. He is stooping very low, to fabricate such evidence. He is a tyrant, Osmo. This proves it."

Osmo Martin refused to accept that. "Gov. Bright is a good man, Albert. And I saw them find the drugs at the Grametzes. Do you think they can so easily fool me?"

"Sad to say, yes," Jane Ashton replied. "It is you who should get away from YOUR new friends, Osmo. Leave the Governor's service; don"t stay working for a dictator.”

Osmo Martin threw up his hands in the air, frustrated. "I see we see this trouble that's coming two different ways. Too bad. Well, I did what I could, at least. I gave you fair warning. I should be heading back to the party before people start wondering what’s keeping me. Oh, and, incidentally, if the evidence actually is fake, then I think the suspect would be the Security Leader. But Gov. Bright is a good judge of character. I think he wouldn't put someone in that position as his Security chief, if he was a bad man and Gov. Bright couldn't trust him. Would he?"

"Oh, Osmo, I hope and pray you see the light one day about the Governor," Jane Ashton told him.”

“Hmm. I do hope one of us- or two, Jane and Al- does get enlightened about what's going on, before it is too late," Osmo Martin said. "I must be going now. You two be careful."

"Okay. You take care, too, Osmo."

Before their friend left, Albert said a quick prayer, for God's blessing and mercy and protection for all of them. Osmo Martin stayed until Al finished his prayer. He figured he could use all the prayers for his safety that he could get, considering his new duties, and in hunting down the people from the house church, who might possibly be dangerous.

(c) drk 2012

00048

Nina McCleer scanned the rooms of the suite in which she and George had lived upon their arrival on the World of Hope. She had many things to get and pack quickly, and she tried to concentrate only on the essentials. Sighing, Nina also took a few of her husband's clothes, just in case... and she grabbed his important-looking papers as well. All this the harried woman attempted to push into the tiny carry-on bag, the one which, tiny though it were, had given George such a hard time when they had to find their seats aboard the Space Dart rocket...

X-9 stood at attention, in the center of it all, much in the way, ready to help. In fact, in case she somehow managed to overlook his eagerness to serve, he offered, "Can I be of some assistance, Ma'm?”

“I've got everything under control, X-9", she assured the robot.

X-9 then said, "It seems you plan on going on a trip, Mrs. McCleer. Would you like me to fetch you a driver?"

"No, X-9, that's okay, thank you." She took her toothbrush and a robe and struggled to fit them into the small bag.

X-9 again interrupted her busy activity. "If you like, I can pack that a lot neater for you, so that you can fit all you have selected into your duffel, and even some more.”

Annoyed that the robot thought he could do better than a human, she continued futilely with her efforts. “X-9, I said I have it- Don't be such a pest-" But in the end, it appeared to be impossible for the bag to contain everything she wanted to put into it. She groaned in frustration. "Okay, X-9, let's see what you can do."

X-9 went over to the bag and turned it over, dumping everything on the floor.

“Hey!”

“Please bear with me one moment, M’am.”

He sized up each item and repacked them, sometimes refolding an article of clothing, sometimes rolling it, consolidating, creating more empty space in the bag. He paused, peering at her book that had fallen from the bag. "Ah, I see you are bringing your Bible, Mrs. McCleer. Good. You will need that, even though I see it is one of those not approved by the Religion Board."

"Of course I will need it- Wait, why do you say I will need that Bible, X-9?"

X-9 pushed the Bible into the bag. "Well, you want to bring your Bible with you when you attend the house church services.”

“Um, but who said anything about me going to the house church services? Aren't those illegal?”

"Sorry, Mrs McCleer. I assumed you were leaving to move in with one of the house church members."

"What gave you that idea? And, anyway, what makes you think I am moving out of here with only this small bag? See, I left so many things where they are, because I am merely attending some overnight event. I am not going anywhere for long.”

“As you wish, Ma'm. We robots don't like to argue with our betters. However, since you asked why I think what I think, I will explain. I notice you avoid Gov. Bright these days, ever since the time Mr. McCleer disappeared, allegedly dying in a cave-in at the mines. Obviously you experience doubts about the official version of his absence. You mutter as much to yourself sometimes. And then tonight, when you returned to these rooms and immediately began packing, your flushed cheeks suggested anger. You again muttered complaints against my master the Governor. All in all, I think you and Gov. Bright have exchanged some bad words, and you no longer can live under the same roof with him. Further, it is possible you prefer him not to know where you will be staying, so that he cannot contact you, or maybe so you can avoid also having an 'accident', like some of the others whom Gov. Bright disfavored. I am a robot, I hear things. Of course, if you are leaving and you want to keep your whereabouts secret, you would then stay with a house church member, since you attend there so frequently lately."

Wow, this robot observes more than he lets on, Nina McCleer thought. Who else in the Governor's House figured this out? Naturally, after the argument in the garden this evening, Xavier probably suspected... 

Nina didn't want Xavier Bright to know with certainty her whereabouts, however-  not yet. What if he were to do something to keep her from leaving here, if he were to stop her from going to her friends-especially because they belonged to the house church? And that was why she hurried to get out of the mansion tonight, before anyone noticed.

"But, X-9, what makes you even think that I attended, as you say, the meetings of the house church- and you must think I go there regularly, if, as you assume, I know them well enough to move to the home of one of the members-“

“Ma'm, when the news, or someone else, mentions or complains about the house church, such as that news item pertaining to the one called Brother Simon, you become very attentive. And also, frequently, when you return from one of the so-called late night movies you go to see, I can hear you hum yourself to sleep with Gospel hymns." He held out the bag to her, having finished the repacking.

"Okay, Sherlock, I don't like someone eavesdropping on me when I sleep. Besides, I thought robots were supposed to mind their own business, and not be so curious so as to be theorizing over what's going on around them. I thought robots didn't care about that stuff."

"Sorry, Ma'm," X-9 apologized. "You are right, of course. But with my robot hearing, I could not help but overhear you."

Nina McCleer found she now had room for a few more pairs of shoes in the bag. "You certainly are an unusual robot lately. Most robots are pretty, eh, stupid."

X-9 suggested, "Perhaps I am developing Seymour's Syndrome. They say, showing kindness to a robot sometimes makes it feel important, and can somehow lead to that condition. You have been kind to me, Ma'm, in a human sort of way."

"What's Seymour's Syndrome?" she asked. "I think I heard of it. Isn't it some sort of disease robots get?- but don’t the robot manufacturers keep it pretty much hush-hush, to keep the public from raising a ruckus over the implications."

"As you know, robots are only low-level thinking machines, and some say we actually cannot think at all, in the honest sense of the word. Our central processing units are neuro-chips specially arranged based on models derived from the matrix of the brain of a rat. The technicians believe that normal constant thinking by us low-level thinking robots, even though it is low-level thinking, if the process is coupled with stimuli of further actual thought processes, combined with a growing sense of worth, exercises the thinking to such a degree that causes the mental development of higher cognitive structures. It sounds plausible to me."

"Oh, I see," was all Nina McCleer could say.

"Ma'm, you don't actually plan to return here after you leave for your 'overnight event', do you?"

"No, X-9, I don't.”

“Then is it okay if I come with you?" X-9's tinny voice almost sounded hopeful.

"Why?"

X-9 reasoned, "Gov. Bright had ordered me to serve you and Mr. McCleer when you two first came, remember? Well, I can't very well serve you if you are gone."

"You can't come, X-9. I don't think Gov. Bright will appreciate that. But I am sure he will give you some other duties, so that you can still be happy, serving and waiting on people. I think you will be okay.”

X-9 tried to persuade her. "If it's all the same to you, Ma'm, I think I'd prefer to serve you."

She smiled. "Thanks, X-9, but- no offense meant- you are Gov. Bright’s robot. I don't know where your loyalties lie. To tell you the truth, I don't know if I can trust you. Sorry."

The robot understood. "No offense taken. Your logic is sound."

She closed her bag. "But, X-9, if you do feel any loyalty to me, can I ask a favor of you?”

“Certainly, Mrs. McCleer. It would be my pleasure to serve you in whatever capacity I can."

"Can you promise me not to tell Xavier where I went, or even that I did go? If you want to serve me still, can you make some sort of robot's vow, or something, not to tell?"

X-9 told her, "Robots have no special oath, but I assure you, mum's the word, Mrs. McCleer."

Nina said, "Gov. Bright will know soon enough where I am going. He may even figure out the exact location. I hope I can get him to change his mind about the way he runs things before the opportunity is lost. In the meantime, I think it's best to keep him in the dark as much as I can about these matters. Why give him a head start, or let him prepare for my plans?"

She opened the door. "I'm getting fairly good at slipping past the guards on their rounds. There aren't that many, anyway, and I know their schedules. I expect tonight will be a cinch to leave unnoticed, with people coming and going because of Sheila's birthday party. They will have their attention elsewhere. Bye, X-9. I am glad to have met you."

"Bye, Mrs. McCleer," the robot answered.

She closed the door and left.

(c) 2012 drk