Going Bovine

Page 65

I polish off a huge bag of pretzels and a big bottle of water, then fall asleep. When I wake up, we’re driving up to a sprawling, glass-and-stone building on about a gazillion acres of land. At the far end is a bank with three drive-thru lanes. Everything is new. You can practically smell the paint. And out on the lawn is a big sign that reads CHURCH OF EVERLASTING SATISFACTION AND SNACK-’N’-BOWL.
The van pulls into a freshly paved parking lot. The white lines are sharp. The whole place seems to sparkle. Gonzo’s the first one out when the doors slide open. He’s still in serial killer mode. Daniel gives me a hand getting to the door of the building. He punches in an elaborate alarm code and we walk in past two uniformed security guards. Daniel calls to them by name.
“Hey, Peter. Hey, Matthew.”
They wave and get back to their heavy task of watching the mostly empty parking lot.
“How are you feeling?” Daniel asks.
“Better. Tired.”
Daniel smiles, pats my back. “You’ve come to the right spot for healing. You’ll see.”
At first, I think we’re in a mall. There’s a food court with about six different kinds of cuisine. Fake ferns. A water fountain. And a bunch of stores. They all have CESSNAB in the name. CESSNAB Shirts. CESSNAB Tunes. CESSNAB Sports. CESSNAB Kids. CESSNAB Tech. There’s even a CESSNAB Tattoo, where you can get forty-two variations on CESSNAB in different fonts or a bowling ball with wings on the side.
“What’s CESSNAB?” I ask.
“It’s this place.” Daniel spreads his arms wide. “It stands for Church of Everlasting Satisfaction and Snack ’N’ Bowl.”
“So it’s a church?” I say quickly.
“It’s everything. Stores. School. Bowling alley. We’ve got everything we need right here. Cool, huh?”
Ruth falls in beside us. “Do you want a CESSNAB smoothie? They’re so good!”
“Great idea, Ruth. Cameron—what flavor do you want? Strawberry?”
“Banana?” Ruth interjects.
“Uh, you know. Whatever.”
Daniel and Ruth smile. “Strawberry-banana!” they say at the same time. Daniel goes off to the CESSNAB Smoothies stand and comes back with four tall take-out cups. “Strawberry-banana.”
Daniel offers a cup to Gonzo. “Gonzo?”
Gonzo glares at them. “No thanks. I’m, uh, allergic to strawberries,” he says, which is total bullshit, I’m sure.
“Gonz, they’re not serial killers. And this is not going to kill you. It’s a smoothie, okay?”
“I’m allergic,” he says emphatically.
“Thanks,” I say, taking mine. I drink about half. “Huh. Weird.”
“What’s that?” Ruth asks.
“It tastes just like vanilla.”
“Oh, they’re all vanilla,” Ruth says. “At first, we gave people a choice. But then we found they didn’t like the blueberry as much as they thought they would or they wished they had gotten the strawberry instead, just like their best friends did. It was a big bummer. So we simplified things for them. Now, they can order whatever they want, but in the end, it’s all the same flavor. You’re guaranteed the same experience every single time. And you’re having the same experience as everybody else. Cuts down on things like dissatisfaction, envy, competitiveness, longing, regret. All that bad stuff.”
“Oh. Huh.” I take another sip. The vanilla’s good, actually. Thick and creamy. I don’t really miss the strawberry and banana that much, I guess. I offer a sip to Gonzo, who glares at me.
“If you want more, it’s no problem,” Daniel says. “There’s plenty for everybody. Part of the philosophy—no wanting or waiting. No one has to feel dissatisfied. Here, everybody is gratified all the time.”
Ruth’s face goes dark. “Except for some people.”
Daniel sighs but it turns into yet another smile. “Some people have a hard time with our beliefs. They have a hard time letting go of the negative.” He makes a pushing away motion with his hands, and Ruth follows suit. “And embracing the positive.” They cross their arms over their chests like they’re hugging themselves. “So they leave and go out there again.”
“So stupid,” Ruth says.
“Troubled,” Daniel corrects. “They’re our troubled friends, Ruth, remember.”
Ruth nods. “Troubled.”
“No negative thoughts here.”
“None,” Ruth says, beaming. “We are happy 24/7. Don’t hurt your happiness.”