We probably would have kept on kissing, but then we heard someone clearing their throat.

I looked up and saw it was a vehicle with a clerical collar.

"SORRY TO INTERRUPT," the Dalek said. "BUT I AM A PASTOR, AND I COULD NOT HELP BUT NOTICE THAT YOU TWO ARE VERY CLOSE..."

I narrowed my eye. "So?"

Pastor Dalek appeared to be embarrassed, swinging his eyestick no vigorously.

"(AHEM) NOTHING INHERENTLY WRONG WITH THAT, ACCORDING TO A CERTAIN BOOK I'M NOT ALLOWED TO READ. I WAS ONLY SUGGESTING THAT I PRESIDE OVER YOUR WEDDING."

We both stared at him, then at each other.

42362 looked at me with her eye shining. "Do you really think we should?"

"I would not mind having you as a wife," I said.

"Nor would I," she replied.

We chuckled nervously about this, then squirmed in front of Pastor Dalek's vehicle. "You would marry us?"

Pastor Dalek nodded his eyestick. "I AM AN ORDAINED MINISTER OF THE WORD. I TOOK AN ONLINE COURSE."

I and 42362 held tentacles. "Please commence marriage operation."

Pastor Dalek nodded. "COMMENCING MARRIAGE OPERATION."

He swiveled his eyestick back and forth. "WITNESSES DETECTED. SEEKING MUSICAL ASSISTANCE. CATEGORY: BRIDE'S MARCH."

"IF YOU'VE GOT A PROBLEM," Dalek Elvis said. "I DON'T CARE WHAT IT IS. I CAN HELP."

"ELVIS: PREPARE TO ACTIVATE BRIDE'S MARCH."

"I'M READY READY READY."

Somehow The King had rigged his machine to play music by means of electrical discharges, similar to certain Tesla Coil performances, but on a smaller scale.

Ordinarily, such a wasteful but entertaining use of electrical power would result in critical core failure, but our vehicles gather a static charge just by rolling back and forth, and The King had the moves.

42362 does not process down an aisle, because we have no aisle, per se. My bride was already by my side, so we just stayed where we were and listened to the music.

When the tune finished, Pastor Dalek asked us for our names and gave the invocation. "DALEK BELOVED, WE ARE GATHERED HERE TO UNITE 42362 AND 41629 TOGETHER IN DALEK MATRIMONY..."

The words that followed this were just your standard wedding vows, so I won't bore you with the details. Suffice to say it was all very well and good until we got to the part about the presentation of the rings.

"We don't have any," I told Pastor Dalek.

"Oh this is shameful," said 42362. "We'll be living in sin."

"NOT TO WORRY," said Pastor Dalek. "I HAVE AN IDEA."

The pastor opened the protective grille of his vehicle, tossing us a pair of rubber washers. They made an elegant fit on our tentacles, so we presented our rings and kissed.

Instead of rice, we were showered with an antibacterial solution. Hey, it's cleaner than rice, and we probably needed it.

"When humans marry," 42362 said. "It is customary for the female of the species to take the male's last name. But we only have numbers. What are we to do?"

I suppose we could have just made up regular names for this purpose, but instead I suggested, "Let's use decimals."

And so 42362 became 42362.22, for 22 is the sum of my name added together. Of course, for formal occasions, it would be 42362.41629, The 22 would be for brevity.

As I retell our adventures, I will alternate in my use of this name much in the way you would use "Mrs. Smith" and "Ms. Mary Smith", except it's not anything like that. I suppose I could have had her change her name to 41629.17,but I didn't think that would be fair to her.

"What do we do now?" 42362.22 said as she looked into my eyes. "We have been chained far apart from each other."

"We cannot move in together," I said. "They are only designed to house one Dalek."

"Perhaps we could move into adjacent machines and set up a bridge."

"Perhaps," I said. "But then someone would have to volunteer to trade with us." I sighed. "We could also find a safe place in this building and live that way."

"Yes, but where would we get our nutrient solution?"

"The humans have a song that says, `When we're hungry, love will keep us alive.'"

"That does not make sense."

"Agreed, but I am sure we can find an alternate source of nutrition somewhere, as the Daleks of old have done."

She nodded.

Artist Dalek, who had been laser etching our portrait on the plascrete, suddenly stopped in mid etch.

In case you're wondering, the weapon was broken, producing a very faint image...it wouldn't have cut his bonds any better than a plastic palette knife could cut steak.

"SENSORS DETECT WARDEN UNITS APPROACHING," he said.

Startled, I pulled 42362 behind Napoleon, watching with shock as a pair of white Daleks towed in an astronaut on a hover stretcher.

The dark haired woman wore an orange jumpsuit bearing a name patch which read C. Oswald. She seemed to be either dead or unconscious, but without my vehicle, I couldn't tell which.

When the wardens saw my empty vehicle, they froze, staring at it.

"41629 IS MISSING," said one of them. "HIS VEHICLE IS EMPTY."

The other Dalek examined my wife's vehicle. "42362'S IS EMPTY AS WELL."

The first Dalek asked Spanish Dalek about it.

"LO SIENTO. YO NO SABO," was his reply.

The warden tried Napoleon.

"YOU THINK THIS PETTY MATTER CONCERNS ME?" he shouted. "AGAIN, I DO NOT KNOW WHY YOU HAVE PLACED THE WORLD'S GREATEST MILITARY GENERAL AMONG THE INSANE WHEN THE ENTIRE DALEK NATION HAS MY COMPLEX!"

Warden Two aimed his distruptor cannon threateningly. "EXTERMINATE..."

Napoleon retreated. "STOP! I SURRENDER!"

"A DALEK DOES NOT SURRENDER," said Warden One.

"NEITHER DOES NAPOLEON," said Warden Two. "WE SHOULD EXTERMINATE HIM."

Warden One blocked his path. "NO, IF WE DID THAT WE WOULD NOT NEED AN ASYLUM."

"AND WHY DO WE NEED ONE?"

"SO WE CAN HAVE A JOB."

Warden Two nodded his eyestick. "THAT IS A VERY GOOD REASON."

No one had a better answer to that, except for the Dalek that thought this was all part of a vast conspiracy involving Dalek eating walruses, Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders, and a time traveling rock guitarist who stored his removable brain in a special depository on the moon.

Warden One rolled back and forth in front of my machine. "PERHAPS THEY HAVE COMMITTED SUICIDE. LIKE THE MYTH OF ROMEO AND JULIET."

"A STORY ABOUT THE WEAKNESSES AND INFERIORITY OF HUMANS. A FITTING END."

The two shook their eyesticks in derision, carrying the astronaut away.

"What are they doing to that woman?" 42362 said. "Why did they not exterminate her?"

"Perhaps it is for an experiment," I said.

"We should follow them, and see what they do."

"Do you think that is wise, dear wife?"

"It is as wise as us getting married," she said. "I feel sorry for the woman."

"Ah."

When the doors at the end of the room came open, we hurriedly squirmed in after them, crossing our tentacles that the wardens didn't see us.

It was a gray corridor, with a slanting roof like the chamber we had just left.

"Where do you think they'll take her?" 42362.22 whispered.

"I don't know. To a lab, I guess."

We only got a few feet before someone noticed us.

Or rather, some thing.

Although we had been aware of them, we hadn't given much thought to the round silver panels set in the bottom of the walls at regular intervals. Although Daleks were not supposed to have artistic flourishes, I had assumed, since this was the Dalek Asylum, that artistic flourishes had been made.

I was wrong.

All of a sudden, four panels, two behind us, and two ahead, slid open, and a gang of oversized ants scampered out.

These ants were silver, the top of their heads a transparent dome through which we could see their Dalek brains.

"HALT!" one of them cried. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUTSIDE YOUR VEHICLE!"

42362.22 held up her rubber washer. "Getting married."

The ants froze, staring at us.