At eight there are so many people in her house that I can hardly think of the last time I saw a crowd like this. Bonnie's house is so full of people that not only are there people in every room using up every possible space for standing or sitting, but there are also some in the front yard, and a bunch back on her tiny veranda.
     I'm sitting on the couch. The campers might have seen me come in, but my face means nothing to them: they didn't see holy light around me or special understanding in my eyes. I went in the house and Bonnie got me something to drink, then I sat and waited for them to show up. I spent every moment staring at the walls and trying to figure out what it was that I wanted them to do. At about seven Bonnie started letting them in because it was getting cold. I kept staring at the walls and thinking, but couldn't come up with much. I looked at them and wondered if there was something that they all wanted, but they were all so different -- men and women, all different ages, wearing everything from rags to Gucci, even a couple kids hanging on tight to the fingers of their parents and grandparents. It seemed like there wasn't a thing that could possibly unite them.
     Except that I'd already done it.
     And now, over the heads of all the people pressed against one another and looking for a man they won't recognize, I see Bonnie's clock is turning to eight. Ten seconds now.
     The man sitting next to me leans in.
     Nine seconds.
     "What do you think he'll be like?"
     Seven seconds now.
     I shrug.
     He nods.
     Six seconds.
     "Maybe he's just like the rest of us," I say.
     Five seconds.
     I don't think he hears me, because he's looking around the room now for the Famous Indefatigable Jeremiah Wright, and here I am, sitting right next to him.
     Three seconds.
     Two.
     One.
     May as well get this show on the road.
     I stand up, and the guy next to me looks up. I lift my hands, and I see heads turn in my direction.
     "Hi there," I say, and get a couple mumbled responses. "Welcome to the informational meeting about the Indefatigable Wright Brothers. My name is Jeremiah."
     All the people who weren't looking at me before turn their heads. I sense a small wave of people as more try to crowd in the door.
     "I'd like you all to please take a seat -- right here on the floor would be great, thanks. I know it's not the most comfortable seating, but we weren't expecting quite so many. If you'd please sit so that everyone can see, that would be great."
     Little by little, people begin to sit down, until there's only a few left looking for chairs like a bunch of idiots. One of them is a woman in a suit, who eventually sits down when she sees that no one's going to give her any consideration for her expensive clothes. She takes off her heels and sits all scrunched up with her knees pulled into her chest.
     Everyone's very quiet, and it's kind of unnerving.
     "Great, thanks you guys. Okay. Um, Sister Bonnie, where are you?"
     A hand goes up way in the back of the room. I motion for her to move forward, and she stands, looking for empty spaces to walk through. There aren't any.
     "If everyone could give her a little room, even a little--"
     A small pathway forms, about a hand-span across, enough that Bonnie can walk straight to me. She laughs nervously, then comes to stand beside me. The walkway disappears.
     "Thanks," I say when she gets to me, and I feel her wrap her arms around my arm, probably to keep from falling, but it feels good. It also manages to draw jealous stares from some of the women, and men.
     "Great," I say, my mouth providing filler faster than it can produce content. "Okay, um, as I said, my name is Jeremiah, Jeremiah Wright, and this is my assistant Sister Bonnie." I realize all at once that I don't have a last name to give her, she's just Bonnie Just Bonnie. I have a sudden, crazy urge to laugh and kiss her, tell her that I'm sorry for being such an ass, but the urge passes and I'm left with nothing else to call her. "Sister Bonnie provided her house for us to meet in tonight, and I think she deserves some thanks for all the time and effort and patience it took."
     Hesitant applause trickles up from the floor.
     She nods and holds tighter to my arm.
     "I'm glad you've all come today, and I'm sure you must have a lot of questions. Honestly, I'd like to get those out of the way first, if that's okay, so...?" I motion for them to begin.
     I expected a veritable flood of hands to shoot up, but in reality only about thirty people raise their hands. I call on a man about a third of the way back, wearing a blue button up shirt and jeans. His shoes have disappeared somewhere or other; all that's left are his socks. He looks around like he's not sure about being called on, but he stands, looks around again, and speaks.
     "Hi. Um, my name is Walter Knowles, and I heard about the prediction on Saturday. I thought it was bogus, but it turned out to be true. I guess my question is, did you really know this would happen, and how?"
     Wow. Well, let's dive right in, shall we?
     "Good question. The truth is, I had no idea that the prediction would come true." A few quizzical looks, more than one person shifting uncomfortably. Even Bonnie looks at me funny. "The nature of prediction lies in that it hasn't happened yet, right? If you were predicting the past, that would make you a historian. The future is totally malleable, so anything I see always has the opportunity to not happen at all, but I happen to have a better than usual ability to see things the way they'll probably happen. For example, the government could have blasted off some kind of test rocket and thrown that meteor off course so that it would never have struck earth. What I do is kind of like imagination, except that it usually happens instead of being made up."
     Wow, this is such total bullshit. Even I can't believe it. I think the only thing keeping them here is that what I said about the meteor actually did happen, so they have to believe in at least some of my crap. Some people look seriously doubtful, and others who look rapt in that "Yeah, man, dig it," kind of way.
     "Good question," I say. "Any others?"
     More hands.
     I call on a woman in the very very front, who looks like a mom who left behind a pile of kids to be here. "Yes?"
     She stands up and looks me right in the eyes. "My name is Nancy King. I wanted to know exactly what kind of relationship Sister Bonnie has to you, and if you're available to sire children."
     I choke, and Bonnie spasms against me with silenced laughter.
     "Sister Bonnie is my personal assistant," I say, very slowly, very carefully, lest I should offend one of the two of them and catch crap when Bonnie and I get them all to go away. "As for siring children, I've, uh, taken a personal vow of celibacy, which I'm not prepared to break at this time. I won't be calling anyone else to this vow unless they feel truly drawn to it; it's a hard life that only someone in the most determined state of mind could possibly achieve." I love saying this, standing in front of these people in my Volcom thermal and skinny skater jeans. Still their eyes believe me. It's addicting.
     Nancy looks half-disappointed, half-relieved.
     "Any other questions?"
     More hands.
     A woman in a Simpson's t-shirt and jeans.
     "Brandy Lowry. Is this the apocalypse?"
     "No."
     I begin to ask for more questions, but she cuts me off. "Is it coming soon?"
     I shake my head. "No."
     "Oh," she says. She looks around like she has no idea what the hell she's doing here, and begins to stumble out. No walkway appears for her like it had for Bonnie. Everyone watches her leave, and even I don't think to ask for more questions until she's gone.
     "More questions?"
     Man in the back with white hair and a tie. He stands.
     "Benjamin Straub. I was curious what you'd have us do. I mean, there wasn't anything to say we would do anything at all, but if there is a purpose, what is it?"
     And the moment of truth arrives. I look at him levelly, trying to decide what I'll say, then I look at everyone else, scanning my eyes over the crowd and letting them soak up my seriousness. Now or never, baby.
     "That's a very good question, Benjamin, and I appreciate you cutting to the chase. I want everyone here to understand that you can leave this group at any time, just like Brandy did a second ago. As a matter of fact, if you're not convinced that you'd like to take part in anything I suggest, I'm going to ask that you please leave now."
     In my mind, either everyone was going to stay at this point, staring up at me with rapt attention, or they would all leave and throw those fliers in my face. Reality chose something in the middle: a few people stood and picked their way along to the door. Everyone else watched them go.
     When the ten or twelve are out of the house, and the people in the room shift to get more comfortable, and more people from outside try to make their way in, and everything settles down again, and I have everyone's eyes on me, I speak.
     "Okay, now that we've thinned the crowd a little, I'll tell you about my plans. Thanks for staying to listen, if nothing else. Okay, so, here goes." I take a deep breath. I can't believe I'm saying this out loud. "I want to establish a... group... of total freedom in which all people are equal, and all people are happy."
     Okay. I said it. Part Miss America, all cheese, and it probably won't be taken seriously by anything in the room. I don't care. That's what I want.
     I expect them all to stand and leave, maybe leave behind one drunk bum lying passed out in the corner, but no one moves. They keep looking at me like they want more explanation, as though my Miss America answer to wasn't specific enough.
     "I just think that there are too many people enslaved to stupid things like work and social status--" I try hard not to look at Suit Lady when I say this, but I can't help it "--and money, and even things like stability and family and structure and government. I mean, we all say that we hate the government and all that garbage, but none of us mind having police around to put a stop to thieves and murderers unless we're the thieves or we're the murderers. And even though this isn't wrong, it's kind of enslaved us. So I think what we need is a little--" "Commune" is the first word that comes to mind, but I know better than to use it. "A little group that can extricate itself from all of this in the pursuit of peace and happiness. I know this won't jive with all of you, and that's fine. Everyone has different ideas, but this is what I believe in, and if there are any of you that want it too, or even just want to see how far this goes, then please stay. If it's not your bag, then go."
     It's at this point that almost everyone stands up -- all the moms and dads and kids, Benjamin Straub, Walter Knowles; almost the whole room. They leave the house in an exodus, quietly but in a wave that clogs the door for a long time. Some of them start out staring at the floor and only leave when almost everyone is gone, and some walk all the way up to the door only to turn around at the last moment and resume their seats. Among those who stay are Nancy King and Suit Lady.
     Once everyone who's leaving is gone there are only about twenty people left. It's at that point that a lot of the people who had been waiting in the front yard start to pour in. There aren't as many as I thought there might be, only just enough to refill the living room. Some of the people leaving must have spread my message, and a bunch checked out while they had the chance. We close the door when everyone who's coming in is in, then I start again.
     "Okay, how many of you heard what I just said?"
     My original twenty raise their hands, and maybe five others on top of that, leaving the majority of the room in the dark. So I explain myself again.
     After my little spiel, I give them the same option. Once again, a mass exodus, and when all the people who are leaving have left, I have about thirty-five, including me and Bonnie.
     "Okay," I say when I see that no one else is leaving. "Thanks for staying. I don't think you guys know how hard it was to say that. Anyway, now that you've decided to join, or at least stick around and see if you like what you see, I think it's time we called the meeting to a close. Sister Bonnie and I need some time to make some plans and get things moving, and I'm sure some of you need to think about what you're doing, maybe a couple nights to sleep on it and see if it still makes you happy. I'm going to set the next meeting time at Wednesday night so you all have tonight and tomorrow night to think this over, and so Sister Bonnie and I have plenty of time to get things planned. In that light, I wish you all a good night--"
     A hand shoots up in the middle of the room: an older man, broad without being stout, and steel grey hair.
     "Yes?" I say.
     He stands. "Jack Johnson. Shouldn't we leave our names and numbers or something?"
     I think about this, then shake my head. "No. I'm not going to let the Brothers turn into a big game of phone tag. If you want to come you'll come, if you don't, you won't. It's that simple. You already know my name and my number, and you all know Sister Bonnie's place and how to get to it. If that's not enough to get you to the next meeting, then giving me your number won't help anything. Do you understand? I'm not going to chase you down. This isn't high school. You don't have to come, you don't have to ‘report in.' I don't want any of that. If you wake up tomorrow and decide that staying to listen was stupid, so be it. Don't come on Wednesday. Or if you decide that I'm some kind of maniac and you have no idea what possessed you to stay here, don't come. I don't care. I don't want people who aren't dedicated. That's why I'm giving you the chance to back out. I don't want you unless you're at least willing to come to a meeting the day after tomorrow without me bugging you about it. I'll give you everything I've got, and I'd like to get the same out of you."
     I don't know where the bullshit begins and the honesty ends at this point.
     Jack nods, and the others do the same.
     "So," I say, "that said, you can all go. Same place, same time, Wednesday night. So then, good night. See you, maybe, on Wednesday."

---

     That night I go home and sleep like the dead.