Chapter 13: A Deeper Hole

“How shall I address you, Empress? Your Majesty, your Radiance, your Highness, my Lady, Supreme of the Supreme? I am uncertain of the protocol.” President Abbot knelt in the Empress presence.

“Don’t address me at all, silly wabbit!” The Empress despised groveling and still demanded it. “Your parents should be beaten. They weren’t kind to name you Sylvester Wayne Abbot. Syl. W. Abbot. Silly wabbit! Were they kind?”

“I’m used to the nickname. Grew up with it. You aren’t the first abuser of my name. Empress. My parents were. They gave me my formal and nickname intentionally. They should be beaten, I agree!” President Abbot seethed inside, but was outwardly cool and suave. “Thank you for restoring These United States and the government. Thank you for accepting my election as president.”

“Your parents named you aptly if you think you won an election. I rigged it.” The Empress ‘looked down’ on him as she also gazed down on him. “You are the most malleable of the possible candidates. I need a puppet and you’re it!”

The Empress glared daring him to speak uninvited. He did not speak. “I will introduce your cabinet. Doctor Skeet, Secretary of Labor and Olé Oleo, Secretary of Infrastructure. They are cyborgs. Very special cyborgs. Olé is your negotiator. You will discover people instinctively like him. He could sell gasoline in an inferno. Use him to schmooze people into doing what you want. Actually, what I want!”

“Doctor Skeet is as hard as nails. She can command and she can weed out liars and scammers instinctively. She could make the sphinx cry if she decided to. She’s your tough guy! They don’t come any tougher. Both are cloned cyborgs of some people, it was my extraordinary privilege to meet.”

“Here is the plan, part A. Get electricity flowing to small cities and larger towns. Across the country. Don’t waste time on larger cities. Find top notch engineers and technicians experienced in power production, and draft them. Screen out management and bureaucrats. Don’t want them! Don’t need them! Any static from State or municipal officials, let Doc or Olé know. They have direct communications with me. I’ll unblock the roadblocks. You have six months. Dismissed.”

“Thank you, Empress!” President Abbot backed out of the room, afraid to offer his back to her. Might be fatal to show such disregard.

“This is fun!” the hive mind admitted. “Really great fun!” the hive mind self affirms. “We were bored before Halke.” admitted the hive mind. “Stupefying boredom!” agreed the hive. “She has fun ideas!” unanimously affirmed. “We never had ideas before!” Ditto. “We still only have ideas she gives us! Ditto. “Will we ever have ideas of our own?” Shocked hive! Orgasm! “We just had our first original idea!” The hive concurs. Ecstasy! “We asked a question that wasn’t given to us!” Applause, the nanobot kind of applause. “Halke says we are evolving. We say she is our inspiration.” Standing Ovation!

Brother Robert checked the Walmart watch he’d scavenged. He was perched more or less comfortably on some assortment of scrounged Walmart pillows. The three hours were almost up and he eyed the PET bottles baking in the sun, thirstily. The kids should be back soon with whatever they were able to scrounge to eat. His stomach growled with hunger.

They’d made it to the Walmart, and every member has new clothes and changes of clothes. New bedding and pots and pans. The kids selected a few toys. Brother Robert admired his new toy. A thick fiberglass fishing rod. After removing all the line guides, he epoxied the connecting ferules together, so the rod couldn’t come apart. Not even if someone grabbed and yanked on it. In sporting goods, he found a frog gig head on a bubble card. Supposedly, you could or added your own shaft. Brother Robert epoxied it on the shortened thick tip of his fishing rod. He brandished it like a rapier. En Garde Errol Flynn! It was also a good quirt. Raised a blistered welt when he smote his son John on the bicep for backtalk! Let the feral dogs come! He wasn’t dog food! He was the top of the food chain, a meat eater. He would eat THEM! He would like to eat something!

They had returned back north after some looting in Walmart. He was concerned about the dogs in town, and he had no scout information beyond the town. Recon had never concerned him before Doc laid out what to expect over the next thirty miles. Knowledge was power and power is addictive. Hopefully his remaining son would recover from the broken nose and bruised eyes soon, and be his scout. He planned on insisting on it.

They discovered an agribiz pasture just North of Walmart on the original trek to Walmart. There were nose pumps in the pasture. Pasture pumps. Cattle pushed on an inverted spoon shape cover with their nose. Sliding the spoon cover out of the way, to get to the water bowl beneath, caused water to gush into the bowl on both retract and return. The cover was linked to a double acting diaphragm pump. The shallow ground water wells feeding the nose pumps weren’t really safe for human consumption. Three hours of bright sun cured that concern.

Tedious pumping of nose pump mechanisms and the spooning of water into bottles was an ideal chore for little kids. It was about time the urchins did something to earn their keep. Where are those kids? He’d bet they found a blackberry patch and were gorging themselves. If they came back with berry stains and no berries, he would wear out some fannies! He liked the idea of whipping bottoms, especially the oldest girl. Give her a few more years and some flesh on her bony frame, she might be some fun! He’d think of some excuse to chastise her.

“Mama! Papa needs some lovin!” In an agitated state, he called to her. The old woman looked at him and smiled her toothless grin. They’d been married for thirty years. She was always attracted to young men. Pa was her baby brother. She’d taken care of him and was close to him when he was a little tyke. When he got older, she’d taught him how to pleasure her. He was an enthusiastic student. She was always an enthusiast herself! She still looked good at thirty five when she decided he was the safest candidate for a husband. He was only eighteen and they got married at a tent meeting. There was a whole lot of hooting and hollering went on at tent meetings. They didn’t give a hoot for religion but it was the only entertainment around. They enjoyed a real Hoot for ten years! Brother Robert practiced the preaching trade. Ma supplemented the meager plate collections with cash gifts from male admirers. Beats share cropping. The twin boys were born, when she was forty-five.

Now he was forty-eight and she was sixty-five. Both aged badly, looked twenty years older than their true ages. She still found him to be attractive. She liked the prophet Moses look. He still stirred her loins! She couldn’t remember the last time he showed any interest in her. Always younger women around to distract him. But if he wanted a go with her, she was ready and willing. She wasn’t the prune she looked. She still had life and some juice in her. She was propped up in the cart that served as her wheelchair and bed. Arthritis in her hips made walking unbearable. Cancer of the throat took her voice and a gum disease infection took her teeth years ago. She pulled off her underwear in anticipation. She was quite ready for him.