July 4, 2117

President Donald J. Trump XVI loves to be the center of attention and today he is hosting the biggest and grandest of all annual celebrations. It is the culmination of the year’s artistic activity and heralds exciting new ideas, fashions and trends. Because nobody remembers its origin, not even the National Historian Thomas Hopkins, anything can be celebrated. Summer. A new brand of toothpaste. A sexual position. Travel, poetry, sport. Anything that challenges, amuses or edifies. It is also the only day of the year that death can be mentioned. The President waves from his penthouse balcony to the crowd which is beginning to gather on Bayshore Boulevard.

The largest parade of the day is held in the capital, Tampa, Florida. Because of the summer heat, there had been talk of moving the celebration to December but it seemed silly to celebrate July 4 in December. Someone suggested renaming it “Thank You” day but nobody could think of anyone to thank. “Thank Who” day picked up some support but nothing was done about it and so July 4 in July it remains. The city’s acclaimed artistic community always puts on a memorable show.

The arts are everything nowadays. After the”incident” in the 2020s prosperity took hold that was greater than there had ever been. Food mines were discovered. And textile mines and building materials mines. In fact, mines of all description, filled with everything that had previously been manufactured, processed or grown. Mining is easy. You just put things into a cart and take them home. Heavier things are delivered on the same day by Amazon automatons. There is no need to work and so with so much free time, people have become creative. It’s expected. Your clothes make a statement. Your house makes a statement. Your decor makes a statement. There is some copying but copyists are considered dull and nobody wants to be considered dull. To be dull is an embarrassment almost as grave as death. And so fashion and art are pushed to extremes. New colors have to be invented and new shapes. Clothing ranges from minimal to outrageously ornate.  Houses are wrapped in fabric and given exotic Canadian-sounding names like “Chez Nous”. The performing arts have grown. Especially singing. Acting is also popular but mostly with one-man shows. Everyone strives for personal expression. Ensemble performance is usually reserved for the shy. Of course, the problem when everyone is an artist is finding an audience. You can usually get family and friends to give you a like if you like them back but no matter how talented you think you are the competition is so intense and prolific that no one outside your immediate circle will ever appreciate your gifts. Years ago a deeper and more intense desire began to take hold and that was to create the perfect human. At that time nobody knew about the “Doctors”. The hope was to breed in the normal human way.  Each year the man and woman with the most likes would be mated. It was thought that this popular natural selection would inevitably produce the desired result. Now that people know about the Doctors the urge has become more intense. Everyone thought that if three successive generations of best-liked matings took place the goal would be reached. But three successive best-liked matings have never happened. Tastes change too quickly.

President Trump goes into his apartment to change into his ceremonial outfit, a dark blue suit and an overlong red tie. He calls it his power suit but he doesn’t have much power.

He mumbles to himself   “Nowadays it’s just us and the Canadians. The Canadians are very polite and quiet and they speak French so we don’t have much to do with them. Something happened in the 2020s, nobody knows what, but luckily our beautiful southern border wall saved us. And so it’s just us and the Canadians. I got the job when I won the lookalike contest. Nobody has orange skin these days and I’m as brown as everybody else but my hair is thin and straight. With a fast food diet and a dab of peroxide, I was a shoo-in.”

He admires himself in the mirror and then heads downstairs to lead the parade. 

At the head of the parade is an unusually tall man in red and white striped pants, a goatee and a top hat. He is followed in a golf cart by President Trump, heir to the national hero and builder of the southern wall. A host of naked virgins salsa behind and around him while he playfully waves a golf club and tries to grab them.

Umbreller is introduced as a new color. A bacchanal group vomits to the delight of the celebrating crowd,  Acrobats, actors and clowns cavort. The poet laureate intones sonorously and then everyone climbs into a pirate ship and sails to St. Petersburg. There isn’t a mention of death until after the crucifixion. Everyone thinks it sad, especially his family, but low spirits aren’t allowed to rule. Soon the partying is back in full swing as the whole country concentrates on the mating contest. The finalists, three male and three female, have been chosen. They stand naked on a dais ready to be judged and if selected ready to mate. The chief judge is President Trump. He gazes at the contestants regally, his golden hair glinting in the Florida sun. The MC points out penis and breast size and the president smirks and licks his lips which brings the crowd to its feet chanting “TRUMP, TRUMP, TRUMP” and “USA, USA, USA.” Male 1 and female 2 are selected and with a little encouragement from the president, they begin. Slowly at first. Feeling each other out. Sensually then rhythmically until passion catches and they thrash with throbbing urgency. The crowd explodes at the moment of ejaculation. It is a solemn moment. Will conception occur? Will this be the one? The perfect human being. The savior.

***

Maria Gonzales lifts up her skirt and slips her red lace panties down. She crouches and pees into a cup.  She drops a stick into the cup and waits. She fills with a warm glow and calls to her husband Joseph, “I’m pregnant.”

Joseph was hoping for different news. He had always wanted their first child to be his but now that he knows that she is pregnant he’ll give his full support to Maria. The whole world is watching. Maria is the second generation of July 4 matings and so is Phil Hammond. male number 1.

Joseph kisses Maria and asks “Who shall we tell first? Phil or the president?” 

He knows that he will be a good father to baby Jesus.

***

Thomas Hopkins is a very dull fellow and in a society where creativity and novelty are the currency he is a pauper. Because of his lack of charisma, Thomas became an historian, that is he learned to read and he got some books and took a course on “How To Google.” As he researched he learned that he was a direct descendant of one of the major doctors but it doesn’t do him any good. He’s still going to die one day. His wife left him years ago but his son, Alan, is still hanging around. At least he moved out of the house and into his own apartment but he still comes by far too often to harangue him. Sometimes Thomas pretends that he isn’t home when Alan comes by. He learned that trick from the olden days Japanese. They even have a word for it. Irusu.

Thomas thinks that Alan is a funny one. He’s never satisfied. There’s always something wrong with everything. He’s even against mining. He says the mines take away his god-given right to make a profit whatever that is. This god idea is something the youngsters have latched onto. As an historian, I’ve tried to explain that god is an old idea that was debunked years ago. There is no god, period. After the incident, you would think everyone would understand. He even makes snide remarks about Donald Trump. He says presidents should lead. “Lead to what?” I ask him. He doesn’t answer but I think he has some ideas. Dangerous ideas. As an historian, I’m afraid to think what his ideas will lead to. We have it good. We live full expressive lives. What else is there?

***

Alan is driving down to the office supply mine. He has decided to publish his manifesto and needs a convid device. His golf cart has seen better days and he thinks he might swap it when he passes the golf cart mine. For the first time, he’s curious about what happens to old golf carts and where the new ones come from. He knows that the automatons play a part but where do the automatons come from he wonders. Maybe his father knows. His father has a lot of books and he’s read some of them. But his father is an idiot. Alan thinks if he can find out where they come from he can control them. He could put a door on the mine and if anyone wanted one, and they all did, they would have to give him something in exchange. He isn’t too sure of the details. He doesn’t know what he wants in exchange or how to stop the others from knocking the door down and taking them. He certainly doesn’t want any of their art junk. The only thing that any of them have that is valuable is time. But how do you put a price on a person’s time?

He pulls into the golf cart mine. Styles have changed. Sportiness was now emphasized over safety. It’s a quantum change. Are people being encouraged to take chances? To risk their lives. To live for the moment. He decides on the red two-seater and goes off to the office supply mine.

***

Alan is loitering outside the office supply mine when an automaton approaches him menacingly and orders him to “Fuck off.”

“Get what you came for then fuck off.” It snarls in its sinister, nasally, mechanical way.

Alan already has his convid machine and so he gets into his sporty golf cart. He doesn’t want any trouble but he can’t help thinking that it should be he who can boss the automaton around and not the other way. Automatons aren’t human. His dad had recently had a talk with him about souls. His dad mocked them but Alan thought that maybe there was something to the idea and he was certain that an automaton didn’t have a soul. Just because the automatons provide them with everything they think we should do as they say. They act like parents. Well, it’s time for us to grow up. 

He decides to hell with it he’s going to publish his manifesto.

***

Alan switches on his convid device. It is at times like this that he wishes that he could read and write. The convid device will do its part. He’ll tell it what he wants and it will put it in order, get rid of contradictions and generally pretty it up. But this is his manifesto. It’s almost a sacred text. It should come straight from his heart but his vocabulary is as limited as his life experience and his thinking is muddled. And so it’s up to the convid device but the trouble with experts is that you tell them what you want and by the time they tell you what won’t work and have added their suggestions it’s impossible to understand what you are saying.

Alan spins through the menu of relaters. He chooses an attractive female named Sheila. Alan likes women but they don’t like him. When he says he likes women he really means that he would like to have sex with women but he doesn’t know what to say to them to make them have sex with him. He’s heard that hundreds of years ago there were rich people and poor people. The rich people were mostly men and they could pay poor people to have sex with them. He thinks that was a much more civilized time not like the stupid time he is living in. They say the first president Trump was very good at sex and Alan knew that if he had lived during those golden days he would be too.

So he starts his conversation with Sheila, “I want to write a manifesto.”

“Oh. A manifesto.”

There is a slight pause.

“And what would you like to say in this manifesto?”

“I’m not sure. What do people usually say in manifestos? I think I’d like to say something about god.”

“God. What do you mean by god?”

“The creator. The one who made everything.”

“Do you mean the doctors?”

“No, I mean the one who made the doctors. The one who watches us from above. The one who is horrified by what he sees now. The one who is commanding me to write a manifesto that will wake up America and get it back on its planned path.”

“I see. Do you know what a manifesto is?”

“Sort of. It’s where I tell everyone what the truth is. Isn’t it?”

“Sort of. Let me give you some examples. There’s ‘The Communist Manifesto’, ‘Mein Kampf’, ‘Mao’s Red Book’ and of course our ‘Declaration of Independence’. They all purported to tell the truth but they are all different.”

Alan’s head is spinning. “Different truths. How can there be different truths? Maybe one of them is true.”

Shiela replies “These manifestos aren’t just claiming to tell us the truth, they’re also telling us how to change the world in order to live within the truth. ‘The Communist Manifesto’ won’t do because our society already lives the way Marx and Engels envisioned. Nobody owns property, everyone is equal and nobody wants for anything. ‘Mein Kampf’ won’t work because it is based on the old idea of racial superiority and now that everyone is mixed race and has everything they need there is no one to blame. ‘The Red Book’ is mainly a primer on how to fight in a revolution to bring about the conditions in which you now live. ‘The Declaration of Independence’ might give you some ideas. It has god and two external enemies, the King of England and savage indians. I’ll read them all to you and we’ll see where we go from there.”

***

We the ordinary people, united in our struggle against oppression and injustice, declare that:

1. The history of all hitherto existing societies is the history of struggles between oppressors and oppressed. The only way to achieve true freedom and equality is to overthrow the rulers.

2. The human race is the master race, destined to rule over all others, and must fight against the Automatons and other subhumans to secure its place in history. Only through the purification of the nation and the elimination of the enemies within and without can we regain its rightful place in the universe.

3. The ordinary people are the true makers of history, and the revolutionary struggle must be led by the ordinary people.

4. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, and whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it and to institute a new government.

5. The struggle for liberation is not limited to the economic sphere but encompasses all aspects of social life, including culture, education, and morality. The revolutionary transformation must create a new culture that reflects the aspirations and values of the ordinary people and promotes the development of a new human being, free from the laziness and individualistic tendencies of the old society.

In conclusion, we reject today’s oppressive and exploitative system and call for the establishment of a new world order based on the principles of religion and hard work. We stand in solidarity with our Creator and pledge to continue the struggle until His will is done.

***

Alan doesn’t really understand his manifesto but he thinks it sounds professional. He imagines giving a speech where a huge crowd suddenly comes to its senses and cheers until it is hoarse. The men lift him onto their shoulders and the women look at him amorously. He sends it to his Facebook page and Sheila sends a copy to headquarters who send a copy to the Doctor’s steering committee.

Alan’s Facebook page is a lonely thing. This is his first post and he has no friends. He looks at other people’s pages and he thinks they are pathetic. They all just beg for likes. Like my outfit. Like my meal. Like my poem. Like, like, like. He thinks it is strange that he is the only sane man in Florida but puts it down to his dad being a historian and a dull person. Instead of creative bedtime stories, he got history lectures. His dad would tell him about the bad old days. Hunger, poverty, inequality. To Alan, they were fairytale times when humanity flourished and men were men.

 He does want people to like his manifesto and he’s sure they will. It’s just common sense. Sometimes people just need to hear something to realize that that’s what they’re thinking. He hopes that he’ll get a lot of likes and a lot of friend requests.

***

President Trump has been told to expect a Batcher. A troubled Batcher he was warned. He was asked to humor him and so he sat on his patio awaiting Stu L’s arrival. He looked up and saw a short orange man with a jetpack circling erratically. Eventually, he made an awkward landing.

“Welcome Stu L or would you prefer me to call you god?”

 “I think that master is more fitting.”

“OK. I heard you had become god but then the whole lot of you Batchers are perfect, aren’t you? The most perfect ever. No one would believe it. Never been heard of before. But we might be giving you a run for your money soon. We’ve got one in the oven.”

***

President Trump likes Stu L. He’s a good listener and even if he is a bit nuts he has ambition. Being god is a big challenge and he gave Stu L some advice. “What you need is a narrative. You need to explain what god is, why you are god and why nobody else is or can be god.”

Stu L thinks this is good advice but he tells Trump that he has flown to Tampa in order to find out how to help the outsiders. Trump doesn’t understand but he says it will help if Stu L endorses him in next year’s lookalike contest.

***

Automaton HQ was used to getting notes about religious revival but notes about religious revival and revolution were rare. On the whole, humans were a lazy lot and it didn’t take much to amuse them. They could spend days staring at a screen or building a mobile or gluing bits of colored paper onto a bottle. Most of those who could read were writing novels and screenplays, not that they ever finished them. But there was no need. The film factories churned out hours of very viewable material and quiz shows. The scribes had had decades of learning and so had a much better understanding of the human condition than humans with their short lifespans.

So when the chuckleheads, that’s what they were called at HQ, talked about revolution, HQ took notice.

Alan had been on their radar before but that had mainly been because of his father who it was discovered owned a lot of books. But he hadn’t read many of them and was considered a very ineffectual sort of fellow. His son had no record of attending school and was officially illiterate. He’d had a few run-ins with automaton security for bothering girls. They just moved him on but they were authorized to use level 2 force if he refused to comply.

It was decided that a socialization automaton would visit him. Just for a chat and maybe to suggest some hobbies for him.

***

When President Trump gets up after his afternoon nap he sees Stu L exercising on the patio.

“You’re quite an athlete, master,” he says.

“Sir, thank you.” Stu L replies and shows him a quadruple somersault.

“The air’s a little heavier here than in Minnesota. It’s more challenging.”

“So, what would you like to do tonight? How about we go downtown and chase women?”

“Chase women?” Stu L looks confused.

“You know. Grab some pussy. They let you do it when you’re the president and you being god shouldn’t have any problem.”

Stu L still doesn’t understand but he starts to think that it has something to do with coitus.

“Sir,” he says, “I am a female.”

Now Trump is the surprised one. “Trans?” he asks.

“No. We Batchers aren’t sexual creatures. We don’t have to be. We aren’t started by coitus and we aren’t gestated in a human womb. We’re not equipped for coitus.”

Trump asks if he can look and Stu L drops his pants.

“Oh, I see. How about we go to see ‘The Shy Men’s Chorus’.”

“Whatever.” Stu L says as he pulls up his pants.

***

When Alan’s butler opens the door to the social automaton he sends her an urgent message. The social automaton can see Alan flailing about in his living room with a half-empty bottle of whiskey and naked except for an immersion helmet.

“Uh, oh.” she thinks “I’ve got my work cut out for me here.”

She cuts off Alan’s immersion feed. Alan thumps his helmet and then notices the automaton. He takes off his helmet and puts on a robe.

“I’m Doreen the social worker and I’d like to have a friendly chat. Okay with you?”

“Fine,” Alan replies. “It’s about my manifesto. Isn’t it?”

“Yes. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with your manifesto but maybe if we have a little chat about it we’ll understand each other better. You seem to have a problem with machines like me. Why’s that?”

“Not like you. You seem very nice. It’s those security machines that rub me the wrong way. They’re always watching me and telling me what to do. They’re bullies. The whole lot of them.”

“They report that you hang around the mines a lot. Why do you hang around the mines? Haven’t you got anything else to do? Have you got a girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend! Don’t get me started. I like to watch what goes on at the mines. I like to know where things come from. How things are made.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about any of that. That’s what we are for. To make your life easier. Next, you’ll be telling me you want to get rid of your butler and start doing the household chores yourself.”

“I don’t want to go that far but I’ve heard of a concept called ‘trade’. I think it comes from one of the old religions. You give something to someone and then they give something to you. It’s best when they give you something better than what you gave them.”

“But we give you everything.”

“I know. I haven’t figured it all out yet.”

“So, you’re interested in old-time religions, are you? Which god do you prefer?”

“The one true god.”

“Which one is that then?”

“The one who created everything.”

“Which one is that then?”

“I don’t know. I told you I haven’t figured it all out yet.”

“I think you might be drifting off in a dangerous direction. You don’t want to live in a sea of negativity do you?”

“No.”

“Do you have any hobbies?”

“No.”

“But I see you have an immersion helmet.”

“Yes. I like to play games.”

“Do you use it for girls too?”

Alan is embarrassed.

“Listen, Alan, I hate to see a young lad like you go wrong. It’s not healthy to hate automatons when our only job is to help you. A lot of young people are getting interested in religion these days. I know of a group around here. They’re old-fashioned Christian evangelicals. Fire and brimstone. All that kind of stuff. Very strong on the morals. Lots of rules. Why don’t you pay them a visit? Maybe you’ll meet a nice girl.”

“I don’t like a lot of rules and if I met a girl they probably have rules against what I want to do to her.”

“It doesn’t work like that. Their rules are mainly about what they want other people to do.”

***

Trump and Stu L take a water taxi to the Straz Center. Trump always gathers a crowd, he’s quite the showman, but today everyone is curious about Stu L. Everyone knows what the Batchers are but nobody has seen one live. Even photographs are rare. That’s the doctor’s idea. Out of sight out of mind. Let the outsiders do their thing in Tampa and the other few enclaves. There weren’t many other enclaves these days. Global warming, a few pandemics and the allure of Tampa’s excitement and culture had left the rest of the country almost depopulated. The automatons still took care of the far-flung citizens but they were encouraged to move to Tampa. Every day ancient jumbo jets, filled with wide-eyed provincials, landed at TPA and then the planes were towed away because nobody was leaving. 

The President looks the part. He is dressed in a tuxedo and smiles and gives thumbs up to the crowd. Every now and then he does a few dance steps. Stu L hasn’t brought a change of clothing and because of his short stature, none of Trump’s clothes are suitable. They’ll go to the mines tomorrow but for now, Stu L has to keep on wearing white knee-high stockings, brief orange shorts and an oversized yellow tee shirt that says GOD 1 on the back.

They take their seats. The sparse audience is made up mostly of the mothers of the chorus members. They all wish they had a son like Stu L. Even though he’s not a doctor they know he’s better than a doctor and anyway there aren’t any doctors in Tampa because nobody would go to them. It’s too embarrassing to admit that you are ill. But now the mothers are being embarrassed in front of President Trump. Their sons were supposed to have started the stupid concert ten minutes ago but they’re all standing backstage giggling nervously and daring each other to be the first one out. Eventually one of the mothers goes backstage and they enter sheepishly. The men have good voices and they give a credible performance. Stu L says it wasn’t so bad and President Trump agrees. They don’t talk about it anymore.

***

Alan enters a large room. Over one hundred people, men, women and children, led by a black robed minister, are lustily singing ‘God Bless America.” When the song ends the minister turns to Alan and says, “Welcome Pilgrim. You have found the path to righteousness. Will you join us?”

He hands a hymnal to Alan and says, “241.”

Alan realizes he means hymn number 241 but he’s not very good with numbers and even if he could find it he couldn’t read it. He’s ready to slink away but then he notices that many of the other congregants aren’t looking at their hymnals so he opens his and mouths the words that he hears,

“America, America may god thy gold refine

‘Til all success be nobleness

And every gain divined.”

They finish singing and the minister asks them to sit. “God has gathered us here today to reflect on punishment. Severe punishment. Severe punishment for the wicked. We all know about fire and brimstone and the gnashing of teeth and rivers of boiling blood but we also know that the terrors of hell are the worst terrors possible. So just imagine the scariest things you can and know that the punishment of hell is worse. Think of the worst torture. 

Think of being hanged, drawn and quartered while you are still alive. And then having your eyes gouged out by red hot pokers and your tongue cut off.”

The children start to laugh and soon the adults join in and then the minister is laughing too. Alan is confused.  “Aren’t you afraid?” He shouts.

“No, we’re not afraid,”  the minister replies “because we are saved. Hell is for sinners not for those who have accepted the Lord as their savior.”

“Is the savior the one true god?”

“He is.”

“The creator?”

“He is.”

“How do I get saved?”

Alan learns that if you give the minister one thousand abasement points you are saved. Abasement points are the new way of giving likes. For every abasement point you give one like is subtracted from your account and one like is added to the recipients. In the old days there were periods of severe like inflation and this put a stop to it. Now likes really meant something and had a lot to do with your social standing. 

After the service, the congregants stand around and chat. An attractive young woman, Nora, asks Alan what he is in for. Alan is a little nonplussed. “I’ve seen you with Doreen,” Nora explains. “I’m here because I keep getting pregnant and I don’t have enough likes to qualify as a mother.”

“How many do you need?” Alan asks.

“Five hundred.”

“I’ll give you them if I can be the father.”

They are both excited and rush off to Nora’s apartment.

***

Perhaps the best presidential perk is the presidential pontoon boat. Of course, anyone can get a boat from the boat mine but this one has the presidential seal, a reserved dock across from the Trump Tower and the right of way anywhere on Tampa Bay. Stu L likes the idea of privilege. In Rochester, everyone is the same. They aren’t even allowed to compete athletically but being a god he feels special and he likes being special. 

He is a little uncomfortable with the company. President Trump has invited what he called some of his strongest supporters. They are all young women and none of them is wearing very much. Even the president has shed his power suit for a stars and stripes thong and a sleeveless MAGA wife beater shirt. The guests are coquettish and encourage the president to touch them. Some of them sit very close to Stu L and encourage him to do the same. Stu L doesn’t know what to make of it. When one of the women puts her hand on his thigh he tries to explain that he is god. She grins. Then he tells her that he is female and her grin widens and she reaches inside his orange briefs. He feels a strange gushing of emotion. A quivering overflow. It is a strange feeling but strangely pleasant.

Stu L sits back and watches as the president steers the pontoon and paws the passengers. He opens one of the beer things and takes a sip. He is enjoying his afternoon. 

***

Doreen decides to go to Trump Tower with Alan. She knows he has authority problems and thinks that she can lubricate the meeting with Stu L. She’s never met a Batcher so she thinks why not? She has felt herself changing since the Gilbert and Sullivan stopped. She has been listening to rap lately. Lil Nas X  singing about prison. She likes him a lot. He had been edgy and had had great fashion sense. She thinks that it is funny that all the good music had been produced before the incident. The automaton troubadours produce excellent music but for Doreen, it just didn’t do it. Pre-incident outsider music has edge and vulnerability, the very qualities she wants for herself. She enjoys her little grumble as she walks down Bayshore.

Alan is waiting for her outside Trump Tower. “I’ve got a girlfriend.” He blurts out.

They go up to the penthouse. As they step out of the elevator they see the president playing cards. “Dammit!” He shouts and sweeps the cards off the table and onto the floor. “I can never win.” He mutters as he stomps toward the kitchen.

Stu L meets them. He has been to the clothing mine and is wearing a Tampa Bay Rowdies uniform. He leads them out to the patio.

 Stu L looks at Alan  points to himself and says, “Me want to help you.” And points to Alan.

Alan thinks “What is with this dumb fuck?”  He knew that too much book learning was crippling. He’d seen that in his dad and these poor Batchers had been at it for over 100 years. He feels sorry for the little loser in the soccer kit. He’s probably never been laid and Alan has and he knows he’s good at it so he decides to go along with the idiot. “Me,” he points to himself. “Thank you.” He points to Stu L.

Doreen chips in “He does speak English you know.”

Stu L and Alan look at each other disbelievingly and then Stu L starts. “Tell me about your manifesto. What’s making you unhappy?”

“It’s mostly the automatons,” Alan says. “I don’t see why they’re allowed to boss us around. I think we should be able to boss them around.”

Doreen thinks “That’ll be the day.”

Stu L probes deeper. “But in a way, you do boss them around. They do everything for you. They’re at your beck and call. Their whole purpose is to serve you.”

“That might be true but it’s unnatural,” Alan says. “They’ve taken away our freedom. They decide what we get and when we get it. They play with our minds and make us want what’s in their mines.”

“What would the natural way be?”

“I don’t know but I think it has something to do with god.”

“Oh. I’m god. That’s why I’m trying to help you.”

“You’re not god.”

“Yes, I am.”

“God the creator? The creator of all things? When did you create everything?”

Stu L thinks about it and realizes that he hasn’t created everything. In fact, in his 110 years he hasn’t created anything. He’s been content to just bounce around. Alan suggests that Stu L should go to service with him and Doreen thinks “Now we’re making progress.”

***

The crowd at the service is huge. Stu L and Alan push their way in. Alan spots Nora and waves. She turns away.

The minister stands up and tries to hush the crowd. “My people,” he says “we are living in a very exciting time. It will be a difficult time but mercifully a short time. We are about to be taken up into heaven for we are at the end of days. It was prophesied that our savior would return. There will be anguish but the righteous, that’s us, will be lifted up to eternal heaven on the backs of white horses. And here in front of us is living proof of the prophecy.” He points to Maria who shyly strokes her baby bump. Phil is beaming. Joseph looks at his shoes.

“The perfect human being from two generations of most liked. Our savior will be with us in three months time. Get your things in order. We’re going to the good place.”

The crowd has mixed emotions. Most of them wouldn’t mind a delay but many of them are enthusiastic.

Alan squeezes over to Nora. “Aren’t you pleased to see me?” He asks.

“No.”

“Why.”

“I’m not pregnant.”

“How do you know?”

“I know.”

“Do you want to try again?”

“With you?”

“Yes. With me.”

“What about the little fellow?”

“He doesn’t have one.”

“Is he a girl?”

“Kind of.”

“How about a three-way? 500 likes each.”

Stu L says he would like that and some of those beer things. They go off to Nora’s apartment.

***

Alan is driving Stu L back to Trump Tower. They are both silently thinking of Nora. “You’re very good at sex.” Stu L eventually says.

” Thanks,” Alan replies. “That was my second time. I think I’m improving.”

“Maybe you should try a different girl.”

“Oh. You want her to yourself.”

“No. I think it would be a good idea. Everybody needs new experiences. Besides, I’ll be heading back to Minnesota soon. I thought I was god but I’m not.”

“Don’t you want to stick around until the end? It won’t be long now until we’re riding our white horses up to heaven.”

“That isn’t going to happen.”

“Why not?”

“Horses can’t fly.”

“Maybe heaven isn’t in the sky.”

“Then where is it?”

“I don’t know. The minister always says up there. On a mountain maybe? Why don’t we ask my dad? He might  know.”

Alan does a quick uie and heads to his dad’s house. He rings the bell. Silence. “I know you’re there.” Alan shouts. “I’ve brought someone to see you. A batcher.”

A light comes on and the door opens.

***

Alan believes in god. His faith is unshakeable and his faith tells him that heaven is up there somewhere. Perhaps hiding behind a cloud or on the moon. If we don’t look for heaven, he figures, we’ll never find it and he thinks deeply. So deeply that a fantastic idea jolts his brain and excites him so much that he runs to Trump Tower.

President Trump isn’t sure that he is allowed to mix religion and politics but who can stop him? And it is such a brilliant idea. For generations, he will be known as the President Trump who discovered Heaven. That’s if there are new generations and if these aren’t the end days. That’s if the religion stuff is loony which he thinks it is.

They’ll send those old planes, parked at TPA, up into the sky. Above the clouds, maybe to the moon. Trump doesn’t trust or understand Alan so he sends for Thomas so that he can hear for himself.

***

Thomas laughs. He says the whole idea is inane, that his son is a moron and that the president should have more sense. Yes, he understands that Trump will probably win the lookalike contest again if he discovers the stairway to heaven but he says all you have to do is google and you can find out that decades ago men had been on the moon and had sent out deep space probes but they hadn’t found heaven. 

“Then where is it?” Trump demands.

Thomas says there was no such place but that when there was a strong belief in heaven it was widely accepted….. He pauses. “What?” Trump asks.

Thomas is embarrassed. “It was widely accepted that in order to go to heaven you had to be …..”

“What?”

“Dead.” Thomas blurts and Trump and Alan gasp.

Trump thinks long and hard and then he says, “We’ll never know if we don’t try.”

**

The Boeing 747 automaton is permitted to take off even though its landing gear is defective. Automaton HQ had been conflicted but in the end, saw the advantage of thinning the outsider population now that the doctors were changing priorities. 

Alan has decided against going on the maiden voyage but with the minister’s help he has sold all the seats for 500 likes each. 

A band plays as the passengers, dressed in pure white, board. 

The huge jet engines roar and the giant plane takes off and becomes a speck in the evening sky.

A week later, when there is no sign or word of the 747, it is assumed that it has found heaven. There is a tremendous demand for seats on the next flights. The whole of Tampa is swept up in a religious fervor and all eyes fall on Maria Gonzales as she comes to term. The perfect human being is due to be born on April 15, a date now etched into the minds of all Americans. But nobody likes to think of death and Alan and Nora have so many likes that they are guaranteed to be chosen this July and the cycle will begin again.