There are only five left: Jack, Francis, Sharon, Dorothy and Hawthorne. Even now they look back and forth between one another, like they still can't believe that anyone besides them thinks this is a pretty decent idea.
     "Like I said the other day, my name is Jack Johnson. I heard about Brother Jeremiah from a friend who got a flier from Sister Bonnie. I thought it was a load of crap, even after the meteor fell, but I thought that I may as well come see what I could see, and, well, I'm still here."
     "Francis Gardner," another says. He's tallish and lanky with glasses that would be perfect with duct tape over the bridge. "I heard about Brother Jeremiah through a friend who heard about him on the news. I'm not sure what to think either, but thought I may as well have a look around. I'm still not sure where I stand, but I liked the sound of what Brother Jeremiah had to say the other day."
     "Jack Hawthorne, but you can all call me Hawthorne. I heard Sister Bonnie and her friends shouting about Brother Jeremiah and didn't think anything of it -- I mean, this is California, right? -- but when it actually happened decided to take a look."
     "Sharon Vale." Suit Lady, but not in her suit anymore. She's in a pair of jeans and a little red zip up cardigan, with her hair pulled up off her face in a ponytail. "I heard about the Brothers from Sister Bonnie as well. I got one of the fliers, actually, but threw it away. It was all I could do to get another flier so I'd have the phone number to call for the meeting."
     "My name's Dorothy White." She nods and offers a half bow. She's small-framed and twitchy, like a bird. "I learned about Brother Jeremiah from Sister Bonnie herself." She smiles at Bonnie, and smiles. That's all she has to say.
     We stand in Bonnie's living room look at one another, unsure how to go on.
     "So I guess that's it," I say, as much to break the silence as anything. "For better or worse now, we're the Indefatigable Wright Brothers."

---

     "Does anyone know what we should be doing?"
     They're sitting on my couch, hands in their laps. Meeting #1.
     They look back and forth between one another, but no one says anything. Finally, Jack says, "Aren't you the fearless leader here?"
     I shrug. "I guess. I've done this as many times as the rest of you, though. I don't really know where to start." I trail off and look back and forth between them all. Still no one says anything. "Seriously, though, I think we should all pitch in our ideas here. How about we, uh, go around the room and offer something?"
     They look at one another, shy as high schoolers not-volunteering to be first to give their English presentation.
     "I think," Jack says," and Sharon and Dorothy both jump at his rumbling voice, "that we should do something that'll change the world. Something non-violent," and he eyeballs me, "and something that will help people." He looks around for approval, and everyone faithfully nods.
     "Any deeper idea than that?"
     My class of English-student-replicas looks at me blankly.

---

     "What's everyone good at?" Hawthorne says. "Maybe we can start there."
     Planning Session #5.
     "What do you mean?" Dorothy says.
     "If this was a job interview, what would you say?"
     Sharon laughs, a short little laugh. "If this were a job interview, I wouldn't be worried what I was saying at all."
     "So then what do you say?" he says.
     She shakes her head. "This isn't an interview. I have no idea."
     "Hello, Sharon, my name is Jack Hawthorne. Thanks for applying here at The World. I see that you have an impressive resume here, but I want to hear what your plans are. What will you do to bring value to our corporation?"
     Sharon just looks uncomfortable.
     "I know some carpentry," Dorothy says, raising her hand. "I mean, I can't build a house or anything, but I can take out a set of old cabinets and install a new set without any trouble."
     "Very impressive!" Hawthorne says, and jots something down on an invisible notepad. "Anyone else?"
     "I'm good with kids," Jack says. "I have five kids, and about seveneen grandkids out of them." He grins. "I think some of them like Grampa's house better than Mom and Dad's."
     "You're a grandfather?" Dorothy says.
     "Got the pictures to prove it."
     "What about that bod of yours?"
     "What about it?"
     "Isn't that a bigger asset than being good with kids?"
     "Well," he says, and grins, "I don't like to brag."
     She rolls her eyes.
     "Anyone else?" Hawthorne says.
     "I have a high alcohol tolerance," Francis says, and only Sharon laughs for his trouble.
     "Very interesting," Hawthorne says, still scribbling on that invisible notepad. "So you'd be useful if we ever needed someone who can drink on the job."
     He grins in reply. "I guess I have more than that. My mom swore that we came from a family of berserkers, because nothing phases us. Nothing cooler than that, though."
     "And you, Sharon? What skills can you bring to The World?"
     She bites her lip and looks down at her hands.
     "Here," he says. "I'll go, too. I'm a computer guru. I may look like a fat old guy now, but I was computer savvy when computer savvy meant something." He looks at Sharon. "Now it's your turn, darling."
     "I guess I've got..." She looks at the ceiling now, then back at Hawthorne. "None of my skills are really applicable outside of a real corporation. I have my money, I guess, but--"
     "Ah," he says. "Batman's superpower. The Benjamins."
     She bites her lip.
     "No," he says, waving away her worries with his invisible pen. "I'm not knocking it. Liquid funds are very important to our mission here at The World."
     "Which is what?" Francis says.
     They all look at me.

---

     The house is huge, and blue. Blue on the inside, blue on the outside.
     They enter the house like a church tour entering a French cathedral: all eyes on the ceiling.
     "I'm not so sure about it," Dorothy says. "I mean, with all the money we've got going for us, we buy this?"
     "It's a perfectly serviceable house," Jack says, kicking a floorboard in approval. "It's not posh, but it's stable and solid and won't take much upkeep. I like it."
     Hawthorne pulls a little device out of his pocket and holds it out like an EKG meter. He wanders in a different direction than everyone else.
     "It has six rooms," I say, "which means that none of us have to share."
     "Good," Hawthorne says. "There's plenty of leachable internet." He puts away the little EKG meter. "Won't have to get our own line."
     Dorothy pulls open some of the kitchen cabinets. "I guess we don't need much."
     "We'll all have food and everything provided," I say.
     Sharon jumps in. "I've set up a trust for our group, under my name, with Jeremiah as the recipient."
     They haven't called Bonnie or I "Sister" or "Brother" since that first day. It's a relief.
     "We'll have everything we need."
     "Everything?" Hawthorne asks. He turns to look at her when he says it.
     She nods. "I have Batman's super power, right? Everything."
     

---

     Dorothy is lying back on one of the couches, feet on the backrest, head almost touching the floor.
     "The big problem with society, I guess, is that we're all taught from day one that you need to fit in and get in line and do what you're told. You need to be who you're expected to be. Even the people who ‘break out' from society are nothing special: they're breaking out only to socially acceptable outlets and within accepted variances. In their own way, they're doing exactly what society needs out of them by providing an ‘antagonist' that isn't actually against us. The people who are actually exceptional are all crazy."
     "Psychopaths?" I say.
     "I guess."
     "You can't change that, though," Hawthorne says.
     Idea Jam Session #67.
     "He's right," says Jack. "You're programmed that way since birth. It's like language: you grow up with one, and you never really learn another."
     "But you can learn another if you're taught," Dorothy says, and turns her head toward him. "If you're removed from your mother tongue and placed into a new environment, you can get a native-level grasp on the language even if the change occurs even as late as your tenth year of life."
     "So, what? We have to remove a bunch of kids from their mother culture to learn a new one?"
     Dorothy looks at him another long moment, then turns her head away and goes back to staring into space.

---

     "Wait," Sharon says one day. "Don't we need codenames or something?"
     Jack and Hawthorne look up at her.
     "I mean, in all the movies, people always have codenames. Or, well, maybe not codenames. Maybe something more like false names. Right? Didn't Patty Hearst have something like that?"
     "Wasn't Patty Hearst a victim of Stockholm Syndrome?" Dorothy asks. "She'd have called herself ‘Jesus Tap-Dancing Christ' if they'd asked her to."
     "Duly noted," Hawthorne says, and scribbles it onto his not-invisible tablet PC.
     "What is?" Sharon says.
     "Stockholm Syndrome," he says. "Could be useful."
     "Oh," Sharon says. "Still, I mean, we shouldn't run around doing what we're doing just calling each other by our real names, right? That could be really dangerous."
     "I reserve Evel Kenivel!" Francis shouts.
     We all turn our heads to him. A skinny guy like that?
     "We'll have to think about it," I say.