Metallic Genealogy

"I think that we'll find the perfect victims for our cause here," Jeorgie said, stopping her plexo-car** in front of Ozy's Bar and Deportation Center.

"Victims?" Fanzer was befuddled by the concept of achieving metallic melting perfection by way of acquiring drunken deportees. He felt that it would make the most sense that those who joined their group should do so as free and willing participants. For them to be a victim would imply that he and Jeorgie -- well, mostly Jeorgie – were violent and aggressive criminal types and not the new leaders of a robot-free future..

"Because," she said, not especially wanting to elaborate. Nonetheless, she continued after a few moments of Fanzer glaring at her. "Everyone who knows anything about starting a cult..." She then changed the tone of her voice to that of a whisper, and turned to face Fanzer, smiling economically. "Not that this is a cult, mind you, but a term I use rather to serve as an example for our purposes here." She returned both her gaze to the front window and her voice to her normal, grating tone. "It is always easiest to find one's recruits when one begins by stirring up the sediment in the pond." She turned back to Fanzer. "That," she said, "is a direct quote from my mentor Ilgo Menchutuan Somino."

Fanzer mouthed the name silently to himself, as if for practice. The name sounded made up on the spot. He thought about asking her to repeat it, but was afraid she would strike him out of frustration when she was unable to do so. Instead, he said, "Oh, I think I've heard of him."

Jeorgie shook her head, and bent her face as though perplexed. "Really?" she said. After a moment, she nodded and resumed her normal speech pattern. "Well, of course you have," she said. "He's very famous."

Although," he said. "I don't know how I feel about the phrase 'Sediment in the pond ...'"

"All it means is, when people are down on their luck, and have a poor outlook on the world, it's much easier for them to see our side of the story."

"Oh," Fanzer said. "I see what you're saying." He didn't. Fanzer had always been down on his luck and haunted by his own fears, but he never felt the need to join any radical groups. He wasn't entirely certain he wanted to start one, either. All he had wanted to do was get the word out about the madness caused by robots and their ilk so people could make informed and sound judgments on their own.

"And once in," Jeorgie continued, "they are easily persuaded to give us an entire list of friends and acquaintances who are equally ripe for assimilation."

Fanzer nodded, his expression blank and one of incomprehension.

"And before you know it there's a million of us." She smiled, broadly and toothily at this.

Fanzer began to fidget in his seat. More and more he was beginning to miss just being one of him. This Jeorgie was quickly taking over his hating of metal beings enterprise and mutating it into something morally reprehensible. He thought he should say something to her. But what? At the moment she seemed in a good mood, but one wrong word could make her snap. How this squishy being was any different from his most hated and feared enemy, Eggensotz, Fanzer was at a loss to decide. He began to tap on his forehead with his index finger. This quickly turned into the drumming of all of his fingers once the tapping of a single digit failed to produce any worthwhile thoughts.

Finally, he settled on the status quo, as perhaps talking wasn't the best way to deal with her. No!, he realized, the best way to deal with this situation would be to sneak away once Jeorgie was asleep or in the bathroom for an extended period of time.

"You must have been a very good secretary," Fanzer said, finally. He had decided his words would be complimentary, mainly because he was slightly afraid of Jeorgie Reldrinx and a kind word might go a long way in avoiding some future violent outburst from her. He suspected she probably hadn't experienced much kindness in her life. And, though, he wasn't entirely certain of the appropriateness of this compliment, it was enough that she had stopped talking -- leaving a window open in the conversation for him to express it.

Jeorgie shook her head, and it took her a few moments to realize that Fanzer must be talking about her former job at the ruined copy shop.

"Oh that," she said. "That was just my cover. The real organization I was part of..." She trailed off and left this part of her life a mystery for the moment. She picked up the conversation again as though the verbal information of the true organization she had once worked for had somehow been redacted from her story possibly by that very same organization. "Which is how I got the idea."

Fanzer tilted his head, but didn't bother to press for further details. He did, however, make a few assumptions which he kept to himself, though these colored his next few questions to her. "What did they make you do?" he said. "Kill things? People? Erase history books?

"Well, personally," she admitted, her eyes becoming a little shifty, "I passed out drinks and spent a good deal of time getting information from business people. They mostly came in to complain about their problems over a few shots of Hoodil. Working one's way up the ladder and all of that. You know what I mean?"

He didn't. "I once sat on a teapot and..."

"Shh!” she urged him. “Someone is coming out." Jeorgie eyed him intently. "He's perfect." She pushed Fanzer toward the door.

"What?"

"Go out there and coax him into the car."

"Coax him with what?" He searched his pockets for a cudgel but came up lacking.

"Tell him about the Program and recite the M2."

"Ms. Reldrinx," he said, piteously "I've got to tell you something..."

She pushed him even harder towards the door. "Go on," she urged. "Use your melodious voice."

"Before I met you, I killed a lot of people by just talking."

She pressed into his thigh with her high heels.

"...And you could imagine my surprise when you didn't simply curl up into a ball of protoplasm and seep through the cracks in the floor."

She lit a cigarette and threatened to burn him with it, but only got ashes on herself. Finally, she resorted to boxing his ear.

"So, if you want me as a recruiter, I'll have to regretfully decline."

Jeorgie sighed, perplexed and annoyed. "Whatever," she said, “this is probably, slightly my fault anyway.” She rolled down her window, and called the young man over. "You there," she shouted. "I'm a damsel in need of assistance."

Fanzer rolled his eyes. She sounded neither like a damsel, nor something needing assistance, but rather more like an angry restaurant patron who had for some time been waiting for her check.

"Yes," he queried sweetly, stepping towards the car. "Is there something I can help...." He was unable to finish his sentence before Jeorgie had slammed the car door into his stomach, and was out and dragging him towards the trunk.