+J.M.J.+

One of Those in Our Midst!

By "Matrix Refugee"

Author's Note:

If it's not heat waves and allergies…it's doctor's appointments! In order to change my allergy meds back to something that I know worked for me, I have to go to an allergist, which I am not looking forward to. If I were a Mecha, my DAS would be set unusually high, so I'm not looking forward to allergy testing…But enough bitching. The loose ends from last chapter start to get tied off here, and I had a couple characters show up whom I never expected, one of whom is implied in the film, the other is seen for all of five rather tantalizing seconds…but I can't tell you more. Read it and find out.

Disclaimer:

See Chapter I. I don't own the words to the song "Pretty Woman" by Roy Orbison, either (though I looove it!)

Chapter X

The Priest and the Procurer

Work kept Peter in town that day, so he went home for lunch. He later wished he hadn't.

He entered the kitchen to find Kip, Phila, Bernie, and Frank waiting for him, sitting around the table, bookending Cecie and that Mecha.

"What's going on?" Peter asked, trying to sound calmly curious.

Cecie stood up. To Peter's shock, the Mecha rose with her, perfectly functional, its hand resting on hers.

"You know exactly what's going on. You had a hand in it, didn't you? Diocletian brought you what you thought was an easy way to box Joe in."

"I couldn't have that…thing tramping around the town, seducing every woman it saw," Peter replied.

"But that didn't warrant treating him the way you did," Kip said.

"It was the only way I knew how, Diocletian suggested it."

"The bolts are really meant for service droids. You had to cut him to get it into him, and that's left him in pain," Kip said.

"It doesn't look like it's suffering."

"Watch his face long enough, and you'll see it," Cecie said.

As they spoke, the Mecha's face puckered with pain, then relaxed.

"Put yourself in his place: Imagine if you couldn't move because someone had shoved something through your navel," Cecie said.

"But it's coupled with every woman it's crossed paths with. It went after Bernie, it seduced Diocletian's wife—"

"Which was probably the first time in five years that she had someone handle her gently," Cecie said.

"So you're condoning his actions?"

"He doesn't know anything better than the dictates of his specific programming. He responded to Allison's loneliness, and she reciprocated to him, which only encouraged the kind of response he gave. He's like someone who's invincibly ignorant of any other moral code and he's not blessed with a fully free will. If Allison had left him alone or told him otherwise, he wouldn't have pursued her."

"Why did you bring him here?"

"I brought him here because he's my friend and I wanted to show him a little of my world; but there is a part of me that is seriously questioning my choice."

"That's good to hear; I'm glad to hear that you haven't been completely corrupted by…that town."

"Perhaps it has, but at least I admit it if it has. But what's the worse corruption: To be weak in some area and admit it, or to fail to admit your own weaknesses and be always pointing the finger at your neighbor's corruption? 'Take the plank from your own eye before you take out the speck in your brother's eye'."

"I've lived in Rouge City all my life, and I'm probably no more corrupt than Cecie, or you are," Kip said.

"So find another place to live."

"Nope, God wants me to live there and to be one of the honest men who could save Sodom come the judgment day."

"And that goes for me as well," Cecie said.

"If that's the case, then you, Phila, should seriously consider getting an annulment," Peter said.

Phila stood up, putting her hands through Kip's and Cecie's arms. "There's no valid grounds for it. I'm staying with him, wherever he lives."

"So you'd rather live in that hellmouth among those diabolical machines," Peter said, his eye on the Mecha's calm face. "You'd rather send your souls to hell in a handbasket."

"If you're gonna talk like that. I'd better confess," Bernie said. Frank put his arm about Bernie's shoulder, as if supporting her.

Peter braced himself for the worst. "What is it? No, don't tell me. I don't want to hear about your dallying with this…this mere machine."

"I haven't dallied with him…well, not much, just enough to learn about him the hard way," Bernie said, her voice shaking, but keeping a steady volume.

"So you'd rather surrender yourself to this creature's embrace than to your husband's?"

"No," she said with renewed conviction. "I've got my footing under me; I've learned my lesson."

"At least there's been less whoring going than I thought."

"No offence, Peter, but there's something I've been meaning to ask you," Frank said.

"And what would that be?"

"Why do you have to be such a mean-spirited, close-hearted, uncharitable son of a bitch?" Frank asked.

Peter could form no answer to that; he had no data available.

"The truth hurts when it comes up and grabs you by the throat," Cecie said.

"I don't have to take anything more from you. I want you all out of the house by midnight tonight. And don't expect a fond farewell tomorrow."

An odd glint came into Cecie's eye. She slipped her arms around the Mecha's neck from behind, draping herself over its back and regarding Peter over its shoulder.

"Aren't you afraid we might take advantage of this?" her voice had dropped to a throaty, lecherous drawl. "We've kept chaste every night, Joe and I. Once we're out from under your thumb, what's to keep us from going all the way?" She stroked the thing's cheek with one finger. It ogled her out of the corner of its eye as it slid one hand toward her thigh.

"Stop it!" Peter cried, looking away.

When he looked back, they had separated, as if they had never started pawing at each other.

But he realized something. The Mecha had not initiated this lubricid behavior: Cecie had. It hadn't even touched her until she had started groping it.

"It wasn't my idea, putting the restraining bolt on…your friend," Peter said. "I told Diocletian that Joe had gone astray the other night; he told me that…this thing had turned up at his house, that he suspected Allison had…been with it."

"But you let him come here with the bolt. You let him drug me to get me out of the way, because you knew I'd personally take you both apart, limb by limb, if I caught you messing with Joe. And you helped him insert the bolt, didn't you?" Cecie said.

"I helped pin…Joe to the wall to keep it still. I showed Diocletian the closet where we could stow it…him…whatever that thing is."

The Mecha turned its gaze to Peter and lifted its head. "Might I be permitted a word in my own defense?"

"Go ahead, say your piece."

"What I endured when your colleague Mr. Diocletian and you manhandled me last night defies description in your terms. I ask you in your case to think of what it would be like if you found yourself accosted by two superior beings who took away you ability to walk."

"I'm sorry, but I can't imagine that."

"Can't or won't?" Frank demanded.

"That's none of your business," Peter retorted.

"Or is it that you're afraid to think of an answer to Joe's statement because it means you'll have to readjust most of your thinking about him?" Cecie said.

Silence ensued for a whole minute. The only sound to be heard was first the refrigerator switching off, and the white noise radiating from Joe's torso.

The phone rang. They all jumped at the sound; even Joe cocked an ear toward it. Cecie started toward it, but Peter reached it first and answered it.

"If that's you, Allison, I'm not allowing this kind of—" He stopped and fell silent. His face turned pale. "Yes, you can speak to her." He covered the receiver with one hand, shaking slightly. "Cecie, it's…it's Joe's owner."

Cecie took the handset and inwardly offered a wordless prayer for strength.

"Hello?"

"This is Raymond Flyte. Are you Cecie Martin?" The voice on the other end had a gruff, raspy edge to it, but it was not an unpleasant voice.

"I'm her."

"And you hired one of my Mechas?"

"Yes."

"Do you know anything about why his damage alarm has gone off?"

"Yes, two men I know, Peter Connelly and Seamus Diocletian tried putting a restraining bolt on him."

"I'll be coming up later this evening with a tech to fetch him. I'm afraid you will have to ask your two friends to come forward and claim their responsibility."

"I can put Mr. Connelly on, if you like."

"I would indeed, thank you."

She held out the handset to Peter. He took it from her, his fingers hesitant.

"Yes…yes, I'm Peter Connelly…I really can't talk right now…Well, I suppose tonight at seven, or would you rather discuss this over dinner? …No? well, all right….We'll see you then, er, Mr. Flyte, sir."

He set the receiver back on the console, his face gone utterly gray. "Thanks to you, I won't be having my lunch here," he said. With that, he walked to the front door and went out, but not so confidently as usual."

"We got him scared," Frank said.

"But what a Phyrric victory," Cecie said.

She found the store easily enough, but she decided it would be too obvious if she went in by the front: too many people coming and going, so she went around to the back.

"Hey, Jacobi! We're gonna need another two cases of Wheaties!" Hennessey yelled the length of the back room of the store to Carton, who was loading cases of paper towels onto a small pallet.

"I gotta get these paper towels to aisle 12!" Carton yelled back.

"Take 'em with you!" Hennessey ordered back, walking away, heading for the meat cooler.

Carton decided to take the cases of paper towels first and come back for the Wheaties. Cunningham, the head grocery clerk, had asked for the towels, so maybe he could smooth things over. He'd just been past the Wheaties ten minutes before, so unless a football team had come through…

He came back towing the empty pallet, which he levered off the pallet jack and propped against the wall near the cardboard compactor.

"That looks like hard work," said a dulcet alto nearby.

He looked up. What he saw, not more than five feet away made his hand go weak. He dropped the pallet jack with a resounding clank.

At first, the clerk part of his brain thought a customer had lost her way in the labyrinthine back room. But the lecherous part of his brain (by far the larger) knew no customer would dress like that, not in this town, anyway.

She stood a whole head taller than him, a curvaceous, full-breasted dame in a sleek, black cat-suit. Add to this chin-length black hair like a soft hank of silk and eyes like blue sapphires sparkling invitingly under her long lashes.

Then he noticed the odd, plastic look of her skin. Golly, what was she? Joe the Mecha's twin sister? Where'd she come from? These things didn't exactly grow on trees and she looked a whole lot better than the heaps of junk he'd had in Amherst.

"Yeah, uh, it is," he said, fumbling to pick up the pallet jack.

"You need refreshing after all that…Carton?" she eyed his nametag.

"Well, er, yeah. Listen, I'm going on lunch break so, uh, lemme scan out and I'll meetcha back here in five minutes, 'kay?"

"Anything you say," she said, with a smile that made his stomach rub the inside of his shirt.

He couldn't get to the office up front fast enough, and the scanner took too long. Who needed lunch when you could have that!

Cecie set to work packing her bags, with Joe looking on from the foot of the bed for moral support.

"There must be places of lodging in this locality," he said.

"I thought of going to the Red Dragon Inn at the center of town. I've been in the dining room a few times, but I've never been upstairs: hope you like colonial retro furniture."

"It has its aesthetic value."

She folded up a pair of pants and put it in her suitcase. "You know, there's other ties that got cut this week because of you."

He cocked his head. "There are?"

"Yeah. I think I've finally cut home ties. Westhillston doesn't seem like home any more. Rouge City's my home now. Or maybe…gosh, I shouldn't think this?"

"What should you not think?"

"I'm thinking…my home is where you are. And after all the trouble you've cost me, part of me does not want to admit to that."

"Was all the trouble worth it?"

"Maybe. I'm still angry with you, but not as much." She sat on the edge of the suitcase and told him about her first dream, of knocking him up on the couch.

He took it in stride. "Similar things have been enacted upon me. You could not force me, since I would already have quiesced," he replied, calmly.

She reached up and kneaded the waist of his shirtfront with her knuckles. "But you've got enough troubles—not that I would really do that to you." She got up and went to the chest of drawers, taking an armload of jerseys from an open drawer. "So what went through your processors when you were stuck in that closet?"

"I hoped you knew where I had got to and that you could get me out. I kept my brain occupied: recalling all the poems I have learned. But of course my pain receptors still functioned."

"Can't you shut them down?"

"I cannot. If I could not sense pain, I could not sense pleasure."

She stowed the shirts in the suitcase. "Just like us," she noted out loud.

Hennessey went looking for Carton and the cases of Wheaties, but he couldn't find him. He went to the lunchroom in the far corner, but he couldn't find the runt there either.

Carton had found a nook for himself and "Josephine" the Mecha up on the catwalk above the meat department. It wasn't the coziest place, but no one would find them there.

Cecie went out to get a few odds and ends for the trip home: a toner cartridge for her feather weight printer, some dental floss, and a couple bars of Lindt's dark chocolate.

"Too bad you can't eat: this is the best chocolate in the world," she told Joe on their way out of the store.

"I shall take your word for it, then."

She knew Diocletian's eyes were on them as they walked past him on the way out. She darted a glance at Joe, who kept his eyes focused ahead, but as soon as they got outside, the look in his eyes changed to an "I-did-it-better-than-you-can" look.

Off to her left, Cecie spotted the Three Gray Sisters, as she'd started mentally calling Mildred and her cronies. Cecie studied the chrysanthemums and pumpkins on the tables in front of the store.

"There she is with it now," Mildred said.

"Look at how close it's standing to her," Clara pointed out.

"It's a wonder it doesn't start pawing at her before our very eyes," Winifred said.

"They really aren't standing that close," Mildred said.

"They might not be now, but when they're alone they're probably all over each other," Winifred said.

"And to think we all thought she'd found her intended!" Clara sighed.

"Did you hear about Allison Diocletian? She actually sent for it on night," Winifred said.

"Oh my!" Mildred cried.

"If Shay's smart, he'll divorce her for that and have her hospitalized. Any married woman who fools around with one of those should be sent straight to the psychiatric ward," Clara declared.

"It's looking at us!" Mildred gasped.

Cecie looked up. Joe had innocently turned his gaze towards the trio of old ladies.

"I'll talk to you later, Mildred; I'd better get home before the milk spoils," Clara said.

"And I'd better get home too, and find out what I missed on the show,' Winifred added. The two hurried away, pushing their carriages a little too quickly.

Joe looked at Cecie, his eyes snapping with amusement.

"Go on, turn the charm on her, Joe," she said.

Joe winked at her. He turned to look full on at Mildred, his cool eyes warming ever so slightly, his mouth curving in an ever so sultry smile. Hands in pockets, he took a step toward her.

Mildred backed away, grinning back with nervous delight, which gave way to nerves. She nearly tripped over her shopping basket on wheels in her haste to get going. He turned back to Cecie.

"They shall trouble us no more," he said.

"I really gotta run," Carton told the Mecha-woman.

"So soon?" she asked seductively.

"Yeah, I gotta get back to work. But lemme tell yah, that was way better than a sandwich," he said.

"I was built to satisfy," she said.

"Eyeglass wipes," Cecie struck her forehead. "Do I dare go back in?"

"You speak often of facing your fears and your enemies," Joe said.

"Now it's your turn to get motivational."

They went back inside. Out of the corner of her eye, Cecie spotted Carton Jacobi heading for the office. His shirt-jacket looked crumpled and his tie was knotted clumsily.

"What's Carton up to now? Is it me, or does he look freshly rutted?" she said in an undertone.

Joe watched Carton passing by, until the small young man vanished behind a display. He looked at Cecie.

"It is hard to say, from looking at him from this distance," he said. "But he has the look of a young man who has but recently enjoyed the caresses of a woman."

On the way back, Cecie stopped over at the rectory of St. Edith's; she had to talk to Father Kunstler. Fortunately, the pastor was in; he let them both into his office.

She explained the situation to the priest as briefly as possible.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Peter has Father Slope up to the house tonight to ban me with bell, book, and candle," she concluded.

"So you want me to come up tonight to stop him," Kunstler said.

"Yes, unless it would be too much trouble."

"It wouldn't. I suppose I can play white knight for the both of you," he said, smiling wryly.

"I have been compared to a knight," Joe said. "But do they protect each other?"

"Of course, especially if the one in trouble is wounded," Kunstler said.

"And he is wounded," Cecie said, her hand on Joe's shoulder, stroking it as if to comfort him.

Supper was a coldly quiet affair. Joe had been banned from sitting with them. Frank tried to dispel the gloom with his usual crazy chatter, but he couldn't drive away the clouds any more than he could tell the rain to fall up.

Just after they finished, the doorbell rang. Phila and Georgette both jumped and started up to get it. Phil got to the door first.

"Oh, Father Kunstler, good evening," she said.

"Hello, Phila."

"What brings you here? I thought Father Slope was coming."

"Cecie asked me to come up and clarify a few things. Father Slope had an unexpected call at the last minute, so I'm afraid he couldn't come."

Cecie felt a bubble of relief rise to the surface of her mind and her blood ran less hot.

Phila led Father Kunstler into the living room; Peter went to join him as Phila came out to help Georgette start the dishes.

Cecie hovered in the hallway, breathing deeply, trying to get up her courage. Joe at her side put his hand in hers.

"You always speak of facing your enemies," he said in her ear.

"I know. But I'm having a hard time living up to my own tenet."

He put both his hands on her shoulders and kneaded her flesh, slowly, deeply. "I cannot fear as you can, but I will face this with you."

She put both her hands on his. He leaned his face close to the side of her head and kissed her behind the ear.

"I'm ready," she declared. They separated and went into the living room.

"Here are the culprits now," Peter said.

"I don't think they're so culpable as to merit that moniker," Kunstler said. "Cecie couldn't have foreseen all that happened, and I greatly doubt she intended this kind of uproar."

"The only uproar I intended was shaking people up a little. I never intended the trouble with Allison," she said, sitting down on one end of the couch, Joe at her side.

The doorbell rang again. Phila came through the room on her way to answering it, but Kip got one step ahead of her.

"Oh, hello, Mr. and Mrs. Diocletian," they heard him saying.

Kip returned with the Diocletians. Shay kept his grip on Allison's arm; Cecie got up from the couch and took a seat on the raised hearth of the fireplace, opposite the couch. Joe followed her and sat down beside her. He eyed Allison, but she did not look at him; he turned his gaze to Cecie instead.

"Cecie, if it were possible to ban someone from a town, I'd see to it that you never set foot in Westhillston again," Shay declared.

"Shay, please be sensible," Allison pleaded.

"Not a word from you," Shay snapped.

"I didn't intend for this to happen," Cecie said.

"That's what happens when you consort with things like that," Shay said. "If you ever try to get another job, don't expect to use me as a reference."

"I even tried to tell Joe not to go near Allison, but he has a mind of his own."

"How can you say that thing has a mind?" Peter demanded.

"He has a simple logic processor, so in a sense, he can think," Cecie replied.

"I imagine Aquinas would be fascinated with the way these things' minds work," Kunstler said. "Joe, can I ask you a few questions?"

"You may, Father Kunstler, I will respond as best as I am able to," Joe replied.

"You can choose to pursue a woman or not, can you?"

Joe processed this for a few moments. "To some extent I can choose to pursue her or not to. I may find a woman attractive, but I can decide not to pursue her attentions and so offer her mine if I receive more data about her that would make the encounter less than ideal for either of us."

"So you have some freedom of volition?"

"I have no 'free will' as you have, but I am free to move within the parameters of my specific task."

The bell rang again. Peter looked at Cecie, then at the rest of the gathering.

"This must be him," Peter said.

"Who?" Shay asked.

"The owner of that," Peter said, rising and pointing at Joe.

"Oh no," Allison murmured. Shay gripped her arm even tighter.

Peter went out into the hallway. Cecie got up, following him, but holding back. Joe followed her. In the hallway, he put a hand on her arm.

"They need have no concern: he is not what they would anticipate."

Carton got out around seven. After he scanned out, he headed for the back room, hoping "Josephine" was still there, waiting for him.

Sure enough, she was exactly where he had left her earlier.

"Hey, you waited for me," he said.

"You said you would need me."

"But don't you, like, belong to someone?"

"I do belong to someone, to Mr. Shay Diocletian."

"Golly."

"What makes you look surprised?"

"Well, I work for Diocletian. I mean, he's such a cold bastard, I can't see him with someone—something like you."

She smiled. "Could anyone see someone like you with something like me?"

He grinned. "Now that's easier to imagine; I probably made better use of you."

Her smile grew sweeter, more seductive. "Perhaps you did."

"Maybe I oughta bring you back to him—oh, damn!"

"What makes you curse?"

"Diocletian's out visiting someone, Connellys, I think. Maybe I should meet up with him there."

"As you see fit."

A man of average height and build stepped into the Connelly's entryway, clad in an ankle-length cloak of iron-gray satin over a conservative dark blue suit. He took off the wide-brimmed black fedora he wore, uncovering a silvery mane of hair, brushed back but naturally tousled. His thin face with its sharp features and medium blue eyes showed some care lines about the forehead and mouth, but it had an oddly youthful air. He might have been sixty or he might have been a hundred. His whole calm, patrician air suggested a wealthy businessman: he looked nothing like anyone's preconception of a procurer.

"Mr. Flyte, may I take you hat and coat, er, cloak?" Georgette offered.

"Yes, thank you," he said in a gruff but pleasant voice, not a deep voice like many gruff voices. He unfastened the neck of his cloak and let Georgette take it.

Joe emerged from the shadows of the hallway. His eyes met the newcomer's and brightened a little.

"Hey, Joe, whaddya know?" Flyte asked.

"Lucky for us both you came here," Joe said, stepping closer.

"Mr. Flyte, I'm sorry about all this; I'll pay any damages," Cecie said.

Flyte waved it aside with a slightly gnarled hand. "You weren't responsible; I'm here to speak with those who were."

"I guess that would be Mr. Diocletian and I," Peter said, folding his arms over his chest as he led them into the living room.

Cecie would remember for the rest of her life the looks of consternation on the faces of the gathering, as soon as Flyte stepped into the room. But more strikingly, Father Kunstler seemed not surprised at all.

"Hiya, Ray."

"Hello, Gerard."

Peter looked from Father Kunstler to Flyte. "You two…know each other?"

"We're actually related through a marriage," Kunstler explained.

"My niece married Gerard's younger brother," Flyte added.

"But, doesn't that bother you, Father?" Stephen piped up.

"It does a little, but I'm not here to judge anyone, I'm only here to understand them," Kunstler explained. "Besides, his commodity isn't always about sex."

This made the round of introductions a little easier, but Cecie could still see most of the Westhillstonites pulling back from Flyte as if he were one of his own Mechas

"And speaking of business," Flyte said, "What's this all about? I get a dermal integrity breach and a Mecha immobilization alarm, but I find Joe upright and walking."

Peter and Shay looked at each other, but Shay spoke up first.

"This…this thing was with my wife, so Peter asked me if I knew of any way to restrain it."

"So he told me he knew where he could obtain a restraining bolt and that he could install it."

Flyte looked around. "Does anyone have it?"

Kip stood up and reached into his pocket. He took out the bolt and held it out to Flyte. The older man took it delicately.

"A Y-X bolt," he said. "No wonder his alarm went off. You don't put these on Gen. 5's like Joe."

"Why not?" Shay asked.

"Because you really cannot put this through the opening on their locomotion actuator without opening them up. You put it through his navel?"

Shay dropped his gaze to the floor, like a schoolboy caught in the act. "Yeah. How else was I supposed to know?"

"That explains the dermal integrity breach."

"It deserved it! It trampled all over our morals!" Peter cried.

Flyte fixed Peter with a calm look. "We're not talking about that just yet, we're talking about damaging property."

"If you follow that line of reason to its logical conclusion, then we Orgas deserve a lot more for our sins than this Mecha does for his actions," Kunstler said. "We know what we're doing, but he doesn't."

"Enough theology! It deserved to be damaged," Shay snarled. "It f----d my wife!"

"Could be your wife did him. And if you'd treated her better, maybe she would not have felt like she had to utilize Joe's services to get the solace she needs," Flyte said, keeping his calm. Cecie noticed he didn't blink much as he talked, which gave his face something of that slightly fixed look of a Mecha's default expression.

"How do you know that?!"

Flyte looked from Shay to Allison, who sat trying not to cower from Shay's outburst. "My business caters to lonely women; I see a lot of unsatisfied faces. Allison's is one of them." He turned to Joe. "Let me see the damage, son."

Joe took off his jacket and unfastened his shirt, uncovering himself to just below his wound. Peter reached out to cover Phila's and Bernie's eyes, but he found them already looking away discreetly.

"It's not an appetizing sight anyway," Cecie said. "I've seen it already."

Flyte stooped down gracefully and probed the hole in Joe's abdomen with a fingertip. Joe winced once, then his face relaxed.

"Looks nasty, but it is not as bad as I expected," Flyte said. "I brought Natterson up to take care of it."

"Thank goodness you did; he has a most care full hand."

"You can close your shirt now, present company wouldn't want to see any more of you than it has to," Flyte said. He straightened up and turned back to Peter and Shay. "All told, I say you owe me five hundred NB."

"We can't afford that!" Peter cried. "It's more than it's worth!"

"You can each pay two hundred fifty," Flyte continued, unfazed.

"This thing caused priceless moral damage to my household, worth a lot more than I caused to that thing," Shay snapped.

"You injured one of my employees," Flyte said. "You're a businessman, Diocletian. You pay for health insurance for your employees. I have to pay a tech to repair my damaged Mechas. Granted, this is minor, but you saw him wince."

"That caused him pain?"

"You would feel pain in an open wound. Of course he has no blood, but that does not mean the damage does not cause him residual distress. It's put there to encourage his kind to repair themselves where possible or to seek aid."

"But I am not paying for this…this house wrecker! Cecie can pay for it!"

Someone knocked on the door.

"Now who's this?" Peter demanded, going to the door to answer it.

When Peter opened the door, Carton stuck his face in. Seeing Mrs. Diocletian, his eyes got wide.

"Hey, uh, Shay. You, er, know anything about, um, this Mecha out here?"

Shay's face went pale. "What Mecha out where?"

"Come outside. I, uh, found her in the back room. She was lookin' for you."

Shay jumped up and rushed outside. Peter followed him, then Cecie and Joe. The rest of the gathering straggled out after them, into the front yard.

"Oh…my…GOD!" Stephen cried, rubbing his eyes and looking again.

Out on the lawn paced a sleek female figure clad all in lustrous black fitted to her voluptuous form. She turned her over-glossy face to Shay, who came down the lawn toward her. Cecie knew when he'd seen the stranger: Shay stopped dead in his tracks.

"So that's where he got the restraining bolt," Cecie said.

Allison caught up with her spouse and tapped him on the arm. "Does this have anything to do with the odd wall in your office downstairs?" Shay did not respond.

"Not a bad-looking model, might be a Simulate City JN-8523, but I'd have to double-check," Flyte said, reaching into his jacket and taking out a pocket scriber.

"Shay, what's the matter?" Peter asked. He looked right at the beautiful stranger. "Oh…my….!"

"I didn't think…How could she have…? How long have you…?" Shay sputtered.

The female Mecha sashayed up to her Master. She tilted her head as she looked up at him, her hair swaying slightly.

"Hello, Master," she said.

Shay sat down on the grass very hard.

"So you've been hiding this thing under our roof all this time?" Allison said, turning Shay's face to hers.

"Man, I thought she was foolin' me when she said she belonged to you, boss," Carton said.

"I only got it to help me relax…I didn't mean to…"

"In that case, this puts the incident of Tuesday night in a whole different perspective," Father Kunstler said. "And it explains why you've been so hard on Allison since. Your own guilt got to you when you found out she had done something similar."

"But at least it wasn't not like hiding it in the basement from us," Allison said.

Shay nodded, his eyes swimming, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly. He bent his head and started to cry, noisily.

"We're being overrun by these diabolical machines!" Peter cried.

"It's only what we Orgas use them for that makes them so," Father Kunstler said.

Allison hesitated, then put her hands on Shay's heaving shoulders and held him.

None of the Orgas except Cecie and Frank noticed the she-Mecha looking up at Joe.

"Hey there, handsome, you new in town?" she asked.

Joe's blankly incredulous face slowly gave way to a slyly seductive smile; flipping back his coat tails, he strode slowly up to her.

"I have only been within its limits for three weeks, so you might say that of me."

She looked him up and down, circling him. "Nice jacket. I wouldn't mind getting to know better the fellow underneath it."

He watched her with equal interest. "Perhaps you may soon be able to, but before that, alas, I have a prior commitment: I have a wound which needs tending."

"Maybe I can take care of it for you."

"It is not the sort of wound you could heal. But perhaps you could help ease the pain memories."

"Anything you want, fella."

"What is your name?"

"I don't have one," this said matter of factly.

"So gorgeous a creature deserves a name."

"Just as I thought, a JN-8523," Flyte said.

"Jane: you shall be called Jane."

"Nice name. What's yours?"

"Gigolo Joe, at your service, but you may just call me Joe."

"Don't look now, but I think our boy's one wish is coming true," Frank said, nudging Cecie.

"Virtual hormones on the rise," Cecie said, fighting the pang in her chest.

"Tell you gentlemen what: I can waive the five hundred NB, just let me have the JN-8523 and we'll be even. That will get her out of the way so you, Mr. Diocletian, can patch things over with your wife, and everyone's happy," Flyte proposed.

"Take the damned Mecha," Diocletian said, throwing up his hands and getting up.

"I know of a good marriage counselor you can talk to," Father Kunstler said.

"I'd like that," Allison said, looking from the procurer to the priest.

"Then I'll take her back to my hotel; I'll come by your house in the morning for the paperwork," Flyte said.

"You can take this one with you as well, while you're at it," Peter said, pointing at Joe.

"I'll have him up in an hour: where are you staying?" she asked.

"At the Red Dragon Inn," Flyte said.

"I'm just going there anyway: I'll be there."

"I know you will. Jane?"

"Yes?"

"I'm your new master now. Could you come with me?"

"Sure thing?" the she-Mecha.

Flyte took her by the arm; over his shoulder, he added to Cecie, "One hour."

"We'll be there," she promised, her chest tightened.

Flyte turned and walked down the drive, leading Jane, who tried to press herself closer to him.

"Do you want me to come over for a while?" Father Kunstler offered to Shay and Allison."

"Yeah, yes," Shay said.

"Please, we need you," Allison said. She and Kunstler helped Shay up off the ground and led him down to their cruiser.

Joe stood gazing down the slope toward the retreating shadows of Flyte and Jane.

"Hey, Joe," Cecie said, nudging him. His face had gone totally blank, which she realized was the closest thing to a look of dismay as he could come by. "You still got me."

"Yeah, you'll see her soon enough," Kip said.

"Pretty woman, walkin' down the street,

Pretty woman, the kind"—er--"he'd like to meet,

Pretty woman…he don't believe you,

You're not the truth,

No one could look as good as you…" Frank sang, in a very bad impersonation of Roy Orbison. Bernie started laughing almost hysterically.

"That's too funny, a Mecha with a crush on another Mecha," Phila said, laughing in spite of herself.

"That should make you happy, Peter," Kip said. "Now he won't be eyeing Bernie."

"Wonder if this means he's thinking' of going off the street," Frank said. "Watch out, Joe; if Flyte ever finds out she's having a little Joe, y' might have to marry her."

"That could never come to pass," Joe replied, but a shade of amusement colored his voice.

Cecie headed inside and upstairs to collect her bags. Joe followed her up. She didn't look at him as they entered her room. "Well, that resolves some issues," she said. "But in other ways, it's just starting. And don't you start about her."

He stepped in front of Cecie and tilted her chin up. She tried to drop her gaze, but it was too late: they looked into each other's eyes.

"She is not here now."

"Out of sight, out of mind. Or is it 'When you're not near the one you love, love the one you're with'?" She pulled out of his touch and picked up the larger bag. He took it from her, which left her with the smaller, lighter one.

"You still fell jealous."

"I know I shouldn't…but the way she looked at you."

"You know she was only following her programming."

"And why was Frank getting so crazy about her and you?"

"He asked me one night if I had ever enjoyed the favors of a female of my species. I told him that I have not, that no she-Mecha has ever reciprocated when I showed them any interest."

"Until tonight."

They met up with Frank and Bernie and Kip and Phila in the upstairs hallway.

"Well, shall we six sybarites make our escape before Mr. Puritanical sics the dogs on us?" Kip said.

"Yeah, let's us take our riotous living someplace more congenial," Frank said, pretending to reach down inside the front of Bernie's blouse. She poked him gleefully.

"Joe and I have to be up there in less than an hour, so I guess we'd better scurry," Cecie said.

They trooped down to the front hallway, where Peter waited for them.

"I don't want you to think I'm throwing you out," he said.

Cecie almost spat back, 'It's a little late for that!', but she replied, "I guess we wore out our welcome."

"Maybe it's for the best that it all happened this way: maybe there's no other way it could have come to light," Phila said.

"You told me I should reshape some of my thinking; maybe you should consider that yourself," Peter said.

"If you did so yourself, you might come to realize that you are not the victims of things like me," Joe said, with unusual conviction. "We are the victims of you."

He turned to Cecie and with a flourish of his hand, proffered her his arm. She took it just as grandly, holding her head high. Together they swept out through the front door.

Concluded in the next chapter…

Literary Easter Eggs:

Hennessey—I based this character on a VERY bossy assistant manager in the store where I used to work; Cunningham, who is only a name here, is based on his diametric opposite, another asst. mgr., who was like the older brother I would love to have.

Red Dragon Inn—Based this on the Red Lion Inn of Stockbridge, Massachusetts, although I have never actually stayed there. I just liked the name and the look of the place.

Lindt's chocolate—Another fake product placement (the placement, not the product), I'm of the same opinion as Cecie, that it's the world's best chocolate (Now I've made myself hungry for a chocolate fix).

"I'm only here to understand"—This is a slightly modified quote from French author George Bernanos's novel Diary of a Country Priest, which IMNSHO, is the best Catholic novel of all time. I try to use his compassionate outlook on human nature as a model in my own writing.