blue eyes, like the eyes of a new born baby, peered up in wonder.
Movement from below occurred. The eyes looked down and watched in
curiosity as an android in a white lab coat shut the small, metallic
door. The skin, in front of the new android's brain and power plant,
was flesh colored. The creases in the skin smoothed out until the
stomach looked as normal as a human's. The android in the lab coat
said, with a voice of indifference, "You can get up now."
The new android watched the lab tech step back.
The new android was in the supine position with his head tilted
forward a bit. When he raised it further, the first thing he noticed
was his chubby little hands and his protruding stomach. It appeared,
thankfully, he wasn't obese—just a little overweight. He wondered if
he could go on a diet, maybe start working out, and get thin. He
didn’t know if androids could do that. Suddenly he knew his name. It
was Bebee Longfellow. He started to stand up, but he miscalculated
the edge of the sterile, metallic table and fell to the floor on his
fat butt. The cushioning of his fat rendered the fall painless. Then
he realized androids don’t feel pain. His clumsiness brought on
embarrassment. He turned his head up and peered into the eyes of a
beautiful femDroid who was bending over him. He noticed she wasn’t
wearing a lab jacket, and because of that he thought she was
probably a new droid like himself. She must have just gotten off one
of the other tables.
She reached her hand down and helped him to his feet.
"Thank you," he said.
The beautiful femDroid let go of his hand. He wondered
why she had held it so long.
"My name is Decimere Longsummer. What is your name?"
He felt an immediate bond with her. He studied her
countenance. She was five foot eight—two inches taller than him. She
had lime-green hair and a slight purple tinge to her skin. Her face
was beautiful in shape and was accented with her coal, black eyes.
Her figure was exquisite. "Yaba, yaba, yaba," he said.
The lab tech laughed, and Decimere gave Bebee an
"My name is Bebee Longfellow. And by looking at the
stripes on your sleeve, I can see you are a Captain.""
"Yes, I have been programmed to be a General's assistant."
Without warning a ghostly, black shadow seemingly came out of
nowhere. It formed a face with an evil smile. It glared at Bebee for
a moment, then it crossed the floor of the lab and disappeared into
the wall. A moment later a long trail of little black bugs followed
the shadow and also disappeared into the wall. Bebee was stunned to
silence. He may have been only a few minutes old, but he knew what
he just saw was not normal. The thought of what just happened was
horrifying. Would they think he was crazy if he said anything about
it? Would they believe his brain was malfunctioning? Would they lay
him down and use those instruments on him? He didn’t know, and he
didn’t want to find out. He said nothing. He hoped that would be the
last time he would see the shadow.
Ben watched the cars as they inched forward
during the early morning rush hour, and then he turned his attention
to the pedestrians on the sidewalk as they hurried past going in
different directions. He, Lyil, Zira, and Starla were standing in
the alcove of their restaurant. December was inside the restaurant
giving the cook orders for breakfast for the five of them. Ben
peered up at the high rise buildings across the street. He smirked
and said, "The executive officers sit behind their desks in their
fancy offices at the top of the high rises looking down at the
people while making worldly financial decisions which will make
themselves more money than the huge amounts of money they already
have. Meanwhile their employees fight and struggle to get that next
promotion which will make them a bit more money and more prestige."
He pointed at the people rushing by. "The average citizens go about
their daily lives trying to make a living for themselves and their
families by running small businesses or working for people who own
small businesses. Others are working in the department stores, the
grocery stores, the factories or the shipyards, and of course, for
the middleclass, many other types of jobs are available to support
their families. Then the low class citizens struggle from day to day
just trying to stay alive. And finally, there are the homeless who
either don't have much hope for life or don't care about life. And
you know what?" He didn't pause to wait for an answer, he said,
"None of them have any idea of what is coming. But the homeless will
be the most prepared, because they don't care, and they don’t have
anything to lose. Even if we do find the secret base of the androids
and even if we are able to destroy the pathogen before they can
release it, the androids will nevertheless launch a full scale
attack, and many of the people of this planet will be killed." Ben
pointed at a man rushing by. "You see that man? He might be dead
before the war has ended. And some, or more than some of the
billionaires will be killed or their buildings and their businesses
will be destroyed, and they will come toppling down—and they will
fall from their penthouse suites and grand offices, and they will
fall the farthest and the hardest. And then will come everyone after