Questions
"Don't you ever worry about that?" I asked, gesturing to Donna's plate with my fork.
We were back at the real Donna Liski's house where I was about to spend my first night with her, sitting across from each other at either end of the dining room's table. We'd already enjoyed a very nice shower together in the ensuite's large stall, and now we were enjoying a rather delicious supper of lamb stir-fry that the real Donna Liski had prepared and served us.
"You mean that they might try to poison me?" she asked?
"Well, yeah."
"Do they seem to you like they're anything but one hundred percent devoted to me?"
"No, but... what if they... you know."
"Slipped their leash? Won't happen. I'm not saying that it hasn't happened, but it won't with them. See, some people are more difficult to influence than others, in particular, those who are strong minded, those who have a tendency to think for themselves. I can still influence them, but not as easily, or quickly, and it's good to check their leash from time to time. Donna and Roman aren't strong minded, and they're not the type who think for themselves. They're sheeple. Ever hear that term?"
"Yes."
"Shallow, malleable followers. Great workers but, when outside of known parameters, not good decision makers. Well, not unless it comes to serving themselves. For example, Donna's pregnancy was well outside their personal parameters, but they sure made a self-serving decision there. The problem is that real leaders don't have the luxury of being self-serving, though many in this day and age are. That's why the world's so fucked up. Eat your food before it gets cold, sweetie pie."
I took a few bites, pondering what she'd said, then asked, "Do you think I'm sheeple? Because I'm in the Salvation Army and because I believe in Christianity?"
She continued chewing through a smile at my question, looking at her plate as though trying to find a sugar coated answer there until she swallowed and looked up at me.
"No, you're not sheeple. Anthony Robbins has this great little parable about a lion who was raised by sheep. By the time he grew into an adult lion, he thought he was sheep until another lion came along, slaughtered all the sheep and taught him he was really a lion. That's you, a lion who thinks she's sheep. Not everyone who goes along with the great unwashed are sheeple. Some do start thinking for themselves. Sometimes it takes a while, or maybe it takes a particular event in their lives to get them really thinking, seeing beyond the two dimensional pictures that society has convinced them is reality. But no, you're not sheeple. Even were it not for me, you would have woken up sooner or later."
"I'm waking up?"
"I think so, yes."
"I'm still a Christian, you know. Not a very good example by my behaviour, but I still believe in Christ."
"But you already doubt him."
"Why do you say that?"
"You doubt that he loves you. You wonder if he ever even knew you. You doubt your salvation. Once those thoughts progress, once they become accepted, you won't be able to abide your faith in the belief that you're outside it, and you'll sooner or later come to a different understanding of who and what you thought God was. Your doubts will allow your mind to indulge in a little critical thought out of the desperate hope that there'll be something there for you to hang onto. But that's actually only a classic earmark of those who think in religious terms."
"How do you mean?"
"Something to hang onto," she repeated. "That's what you'll be looking for, because that's what you've always had, if only in your own head. Ironic as it is, you'll find nothing at all to hang onto and, sometime after that, you'll find that it's the most important discovery you could have made, that you stand on your own two feet, that you
can
stand on your own two feet, whether you think the right hand of god is on your shoulder or not, and you're responsible."
"What makes you so sure that's how it will happen, that I'll be so quick to discard God?"
"Because you probably won't. Ultimately, you'll only give up the ridged, dogmatic guilt complex that you've turned the concept of God into. I've seen it happen more times than I can count, and you're too smart to keep digesting the religianity you've been fed. Eat your food before it gets cold."
After another few bites, I asked a much more direct question.
"Donna... what are you?"
Another pause left me waiting until she swallowed before she replied with, "I don't know."
" ... You don't know?"
"Not really, no."
"But... how can that be?"
"Do you remember when you were a baby?" she asked.
"No," I replied. "My first memory is my third birthday. I got a toothbrush. I was disappointed."
"Do you remember being born?"
"Well, no."
"Do you remember being conceived?"
"Of course not."
"Do you remember where and what you were before your conception?"
"No."
"Well, I don't remember any of that either, and that's how I don't know what I am. Just like you, I was not... and then I was."
Another pause went by, this one longer as I looked into her eyes, swooning and loving her until she looked away. I was trying to read something of her, but the only result I got was arousal. She'd gone back to eating as though nothing had happened, but I knew she was aware of what had passed.
"Will you... influence me?" I asked.
"What?"
"I want to know how it feels."
"Why?"
"Because I'm curious, and..."
"Yes?"
"I want to be helpless. I want to be used like Janine and Candace were. I want... that."
She smiled again, taking another bite from her fork, chewing, swallowing and then answering.
"Horny little slut. I'm sorry, but I can't. Although, I'm glad you asked me that. It shows that you really do trust me. I mean, I knew that, but... now I
