The ELI Event B007R5LTNS

my little male chauvinist piglet guts, remember?”
    “I’ve never said that!”
    “No, I suppose you haven’t.” He was way too tired to argue. He examined her over the rim of his coffee mug, from her blond hair to her blue eyes to her red lips to her full breasts to her slender legs to her Nike-clad feet. His eyes were beginning to glaze when she leaned over to make eye contact with him.
    “Don’t touch those dials, folks,” she said comically.
    He blinked hard and tried to focus on her face. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, embarrassed.
    “Forget it. You’re beat. Come over here.” Numbly, he crossed to her and stood between her knees. “Turn around.” He did as he was told. She set his cup on the counter and began to knead the muscles at the base of his neck. “Jesus, you’re jammed up. Don’t you ever relax?”
    “Let me think, um, no.” He closed his eyes tight, and grimaced when she hit a tender spot.
    “I believe it.” She continued the pressure, moving up his neck. “You really need to go home and go to bed.” He nodded slightly as her hands worked their way back down to his shoulders. “In that order,” she added.
    She squeezed once more and a bolt of pain shot through Wheeler’s shoulders. Involuntarily, his hands flew up and grabbed her wrists. She stopped kneading but made no effort to pull away. As he released her, she gently rested her hands on his shoulders. He sighed, unsure of her motives or his own. He stepped away and turned to face her.
    “Steve,” she said, “I think it’s time— Uh-oh, wait a minute. Time? Time!” She frantically looked at her watch. “Damn, I’m late for my meeting! I’ve got to go!” She jumped down from her perch and bolted for the door.
    “Wait,” Wheeler said. She looked back at him patiently. “Thanks.”
    She smiled warmly. “No worries,” she said. “See you in the morning?” Without waiting for a reply, she disappeared around the corner into the hallway.
    “Yeah,” Wheeler said aloud when she was gone. He shook his head, confused, exhausted. “Yeah. In the morning.”
    He returned to the computer room. E-L-One’s face on the glass sheet was passive, pensive. Wordlessly Wheeler retrieved the greenbar printout and left the building. Then, without quite realizing it, he pulled the tiny recorder from his pocket. “Question for further research,” he said into it. “What the hell just happened?”

Seventeen
    As Eli had instructed, Robin continued west on Davis until, sure enough, he saw the Greyhound bus station on the corner at Range Avenue. Funny, he had been in Colby for five years and never knew it was there. How did Eli know?
    Approaching the station from the back, he passed a raggedy group of men standing around a vacant lot behind the building, near the sidewalk. At first he was a little frightened of them, but on closer inspection, they looked more sad than threatening. “Hey, kid,” the closest one called, “spare a couple bucks?” He was short and stocky, not much taller than Robin, and his hands and face were dirty.
    Robin put his head down and kept walking.
    “C’mon, kid,” the man said. “How about it? I’m starvin’ here. Anything will help.”
    Robin looked at the man and his companions. They milled about talking to each other, some just to themselves. They were all similarly dressed: mismatched, oversized shirts and pants, ball caps, dirty, torn overcoats, some with tattered, disintegrating shoes, some without. Grocery carts full of junk and bulging black plastic bags were everywhere. Suddenly Robin thought that maybe life at Mrs. Faraday’s wasn’t so bad after all.
    He looked up and saw an enormous woman lumbering toward him, apparently also headed for the bus station. She was wrapped in a gaudy print dress with large, colorful flowers and a giant, wide-brimmed hat with a cloth band that matched the dress exactly. Amazingly, her elephantine legs and tree-trunk ankles were perched atop a pair of way-too-small bright yellow high heels that wobbled precariously on their tiny points with every cautious step. She saw him looking at her and smiled sweetly.
    As Robin neared the building, the raggedy man took a step toward him, holding out his hand plaintively. In doing so, he revealed a large fifty-gallon drum; curiously, Robin could instantly feel warmth emanating from the drum, as though he had just stepped out of a shady spot into bright sunlight. It was odd, but not unpleasant.
    Suddenly, brilliant