Christopher Pike - Sati

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SATI

/ once knew this girt who thought she was God. She didn't give sight to the blind or raise the dead.

She didn't even teach anything, not really, and she never told me anything I probably didn't already

know.

On the other hand, she didn't expect to be worshipped, nor did she ask for money. Given her high

opinion of herself, some might call that a miracle.

I don't know, maybe she was God. Her name was Sati and she had blonde hair and blue eyes.

For all who meet her, Sati will change everything. Sati may change everything for you.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Christopher Pike was born in New York, but grew up

in Los Angeles, where he lives to this day. Prior to

becoming a writer, he worked in a factory, painted

houses and programmed computers. His hobbies

include astronomy, meditating, running and making

sure his books are prominently displayed in his local

bookshop. He is the author of the best-selling CHAIN

LETTER, SPELLBOUND, LAST ACT, GIMME A KISS,

WEEKEND, SLUMBER PARTY, REMEMBER ME, the

FINAL FRIENDS trilogy, SCAVENGER HUNT, FALL

INTO DARKNESS, WITCH, SEE YOU LATER, CHAIN

LETTER 2, DIE SOFTLY, BURY ME DEEP, MONSTER

and ROAD TO NOWHERE which are all available in

paperback from Hodder and Stoughton.

CHRISTOPHER

PIKE

Sati

Hodder & Stoughton

LONDON SYDNEY AUCKLAND

First published in the USA in 1990 as a Tor book by Tom Doherty As-sociates Inc.

First published in Great Britain in. 1993 by Hodder and Stoughton Ltd.

British Library C.I.P.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 0-340-59022-X

The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real

person or actual happenings.

The right of Christopher Pike to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him

in accord-ance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This book is sold subject to the con-dition that it-shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re

-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding

or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this

condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,

electronic or mechanical, including photocopy-ing, recording or any information storage or

retrieval system, without either the prior permission in writing from the publisher or a licence,

permitting restricted copying. In the United Kingdom such licences are issued by the Copyright

Licensing Agency, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1P SHE.

Printed and bound In Great Britain for Hodder and Stoughton Children's Books, a division of

Hodder and Stoughton Ltd., Mill Road, Dunton Green, Sevenoaks, Kent TN13 2YA.

(Editorial Office: 47 Bedford Square, London WC1B 3DP) by Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading, Berks.

Typeset by Phoenix Typesetting, Ilkley, West Yorkshire.

for Moharishi

Sati is pronounced SAH-tee

ONE I once knew this girl who thought she was God. She didn't give sight to the blind or raise the dead.

She didn't even teach anything, not really, and she never told me anything I probably didn't already know.

On the other hand, she didn't expect to be worshipped, nor did she ask for money. Given her high opinion of

herself, some might call that a miracle. I don't know, maybe she was God. Her name was Sati and she had

blonde hair and blue eyes.

I first met her in the middle of the night alongside High-way 10 in the Arizona desert. She was

sitting - not standing like your usual hitch-hiker in the sand next to the asphalt. Had I been any more tired

than I already was, I probably would have missed her. All I saw was a flash of white in my semi's high

beams. I was a couple of seconds down the road before I realised I'd just passed a person. My brakes took

their time bringing my seventy-mile-per-hour rig to a halt In the rearview-mirror, my flash of white stood

and walked slowly towards the truck.

When the passenger door opened a minute later, and the overhead light went on, I decided I'd made

a wise decision stopping.

She was a soft beauty, and I blinked twice, for she looked familiar, though later, I was never able to

decide who she reminded me of. The rose tinge of her skin complemented her long sunny hair. Her big

eyes glanced across my littered seat, bright and calm.

'Need a ride?' I asked.

She nodded, lifting up the hem of her white dress and sliding into the seat. The overhead light went

off as she shut the door.

'Are you hitch-hiking?' I asked, thinking I hadn't seen any broken-down car along the road.

'Yes,' she said.

'Well I'm heading to L.A.'

'You want to ride all the way there with me?'

'Yes,' she said.

That was fine with me. Hauling freight when you're half asleep is always easier with company. I

put the truck into gear and we rolled forward.

'My name's Michael Winters,' I said, offering my hand, hoping she could see it in the dark. Desert

nights get as deep as a pool of ink. Her profile was a shadow against the black window. Her warm fingers

found mine and squeezed hello.

'I'm Sati,' she said.

'Oh.' I say oh a lot. The world is always taking me by surprise, 'What kind of name is Sati?'

'An old one.'

'How did you come to be sitting out here at this time of night?'

'I was waiting for a ride.'

Her tone was not unhappy, but she was obviously being evasive. Perhaps she'd just had a fight with

her boyfriend and had been dumped, I thought. Or maybe she lived in Catson, a town a few miles back the

way I'd come, and had decided to leave home tonight. She couldn't have been more than twenty.

'Hey, you hungry?' I asked. There was a diner not far up ahead where I occasionally stopped

during my boring Phoenix to L.A. runs. Before picking up my guest, I hadn't planned on eating so soon. I

think I just wanted to get another good look at her.

'I wouldn't mind stopping,' Sati said.

Pete's was the name of the place, appropriately enough; it served tons of truck drivers who

resembled the owner and head chef Peter Korboff, a big heavy-set man whose sole culinary achievement

was consistently fantastic pan-cakes. I usually stopped in only when I knew the diner would be fairly

empty. Just because I made my living moving freight from one town to another didn't mean I was a truck

driver. The job was temporary, I told myself. And the years kept rolling by.

The air had a chill in it as we climbed out. Come ten in the morning and I knew it would be

simmering. Sati pulled up beside me, a head shorter than my even six feet. Her long white dress swished

close to the pavement as we walked towards the diner's front door.

'I hope Penny's working,' I said.

Sati nodded, apparently not caring who Penny was.

The place was crowded for two in the morning. There were about a dozen people present. Steering

Sati towards a booth in the corner, I noticed Penny pouring coffee behind the counter and gave a wave.

She raised an eye-brow when she saw I had a female with me. Penny was a good friend - we'd spoken to

each other once a week for the last three years - but she didn't know my wife was divorcing me. I hate

telling people my problems. It depresses me.

'I see you don't have a purse,' I told Sati when we were seated. The hard white light of the diner

took nothing away from her beauty. Her complexion looked as soft as it had during my first glimpse of her

in the truck. At my remark, her wide mouth curled into an amused line. I added hastily, 'But don't worry if

you're hungry. I've got money.'

'I'm not worried, Michael,' she said.

'All right.'

Sati wasn't a large girl, but her fingers were long and slim. The way she tugged at her bright hair

while gazing distractedly about struck me as charming in a little-girl sort of way. She wasn't wearing a ring.

Penny brought us menus and water a moment later. Penny was destined to be a waitress in a truck stop

cof-fee shop. She fitted the part so well. Buxom, with cheaply dyed red hair and gobs of make-up, she had

the friendly southern accent that barely hid a lonely pain. Her husband had died of cancer a week after

their fifth anniversary, and she had never remarried. Her twenty-year-old son was presently doing time in a

sweaty Texas jail for steal-ing a car. Had Harry Chapin still been alive, he might have written a song about

her. 'And who do we have here, Mike?' Penny asked.

'A lost hitch-hiker who thinks she wants to go to L.A.,' I said. 'Penny, meet Sati.'

'Lord, girl, don't tell me you're another one of those aspiring actresses?' Penny said. 'I see dozens o

f them pass through here on their way to fame and fortune. See them on their way home, too, the stars

washed from their eyes. Where're you from, child?'

'Not far from here,' Sati said.

Penny gave her a closer look, puzzled. 'Have I seen you before?'

Sati did not answer the question. She instead nodded to the ring on Penny's finger, a plain gold band

given to Penny on her wedding day. 'The ring is very nice,' Sati said.

Penny fairly lit up, then laughed. 'I can see you know nothing about jewellery, girl. Try to hock this

in L.A. and you would hardly have enough to buy yourself lunch.'

Sati stared her straight in the eye. It was then I realised what had struck me about her blue eyes

the moment she had climbed into my truck. They were unusually serene. I wondered if she was stoned.

'But you wear it well,' Sati said.

Penny seemed touched. 'Thank you,' she said softly. Then, shaking herself as if she was stirring

from a pleasant daydream, she reached for her pad. 'So, Mike, what would you and your travelling

companion like this fine morning?'

'I'll have six of Pete's perfect pancakes and a cup of coffee,' I said. 'Bring lots of butter.'

'I should have known. Sati?'

Sati had been looking out the window. She glanced towards the counter. 'May I have that banana,

there?' 'Is that all you want?' I asked.

'Better take a free meal when you can get one,' Penny said. Sati nodded, as though that were good

advice, but didn't say anything. Penny added, 'Are you a vegetarian? I know a lot of actresses are. Listen, I

could put that banana on some cold cereal if you'd like?'

'That would be fine,' Sati said.

Penny collected our menus and left. 'You're not really an actress, are you?' I asked.

'Not exactly,' Sati said.

'What do you plan on doing in L.A.?'

'I'll tell you when we get there.'

'You don't know?'

She smiled again. Like her tugging at her hair, it seemed so innocent, that smile. For a moment I

thought she could have been an actress, that she could have lit up any screen. 'I know,' she said.

Our food came and I ate quickly. Penny had diced the banana over a bowl of cornflakes and

drenched it in milk. Sati chewed each bite so thoroughly one would have thought she believed it was going

to be her last meal for the rest of the week. My plate was clean and I was finishing my second cup of

coffee, feeling anxious to hit the road, when she finally pushed her bowl away.

'We can go,' she said.

'You're full?' Her bowl wasn't empty.

'Completely full.'

Just before we stood to leave, I noticed a pot-bellied man with a handlebar moustache standing by

the door and staring our way. It took me a moment, but then I recognised him as a local, a foreman in a

factory in Catson who always worked the late shift. We'd shared a cup of coffee at the counter before,

although I couldn't remember what his name was. He appeared on the verge of approaching us, but he

suddenly turned and left.

'Did you see that guy?' I asked.

'Which guy was that?' Sati asked innocently.

'Never mind, he's gone.'

Penny returned to our table to say goodbye. She told me to give Linda her love. I left a tip as big as

the bill. I like to tip big; it makes me feel like a nice guy.

Sati and I were back in the truck and barrelling down the road when Sati asked about Linda.

'She's my wife,' I said. 'We've known each other since high school. We have a daughter named Jenny.

She'll be six next month, June seventeenth. We had her only a year after we were married.'

Actually, we'd had Jenny only nine months after we'd been married, but tell people that and they

think they know what really happened. Back then, Linda and I both had to drop out of college and get jobs.

I'd never had a chance to get back and Linda was only now finishing her degree. One of her professors

was her new boyfriend. She had always fancied the academic types. His name was Dick.

'You would like Jenny,' I added. 'She's the smartest little kid.'

'What about Linda?' Sati asked.

Sati's question caught me off guard. I wasn't exactly sure what she was asking. Nevertheless, the

query did give me an occasion to examine my motives in picking her up. There was the company excuse,

sure, but I'd never bought a hitch-hiker breakfast before. What the hell, I thought, her long dress wasn't

giving away a lot, but there was no hiding her fine figure.

I'd slept with two women in the six months since I had split up with Linda. I'd thought there was a

chance my depression was largely sexual frustration. I'd thought wrong, and had not called Sharon or Joetta

back. Glancing across the dark seat, I wondered if I was ever going to learn. Sati's hair hung loosely atop

her breasts.

'What?' I said.

'Linda must be smart, too.'

I decided she was playing with me. 'Tell me about yourself.'

Sati wore what appeared to be hand-carved wooden slippers. Slipping her feet out of them, she

tucked her legs beneath her and sat cross-legged on the seat. I’ll tell you when we get to your apartment,'

she said.'But I'm not going straight to my apartment. We've got several tons of pool acid sitting a few feet

behind us. I've got to drop that off first.'

'Fine.'

'But afterwards, if you'd like, I could take you over to your friends'."

She closed her eyes and sat up straight. 'I'm going to your apartment. Don't talk to me until we get

there.' 'But what about your friends?' I asked.

'You are my friend, Michael.'

The sun had begun to colour the sky when I backed into Stenson's Pool Supply dock. Mr Stenson

was one of my more dependable customers. Twice a week he had me bringing in a full trailer of goods

from Phoenix. He intended to give me more business when I purchased two more trucks, which would give

me four altogether. At present, my partner, Jesse, drove my other truck. Stenson was a reference I planned

on using when I hit the bank later on in the day with my hand out begging for money. I hated what I was

doing, and here I was trying to expand the business. Don't ask me why.

Sati had a strong back. Her posture stayed firm the whole time she slept. I wondered if she wasn't

really medi-tating or something. She didn't move an inch, I swear.

I couldn't have counted the times I glanced over at her.

Stenson's son was already at work. With his help, I had the acid unloaded in fifteen minutes. He

didn't have occasion to look up front. He had no idea I had a cute blonde with me. Not that I would have

cared. My fatigue level had begun to reach the point where sleep, more than any imaginable erotic

encounter, was all I wanted. I'd already decided Sati could crash at my place for a day or two. She didn't

seem the sort who was going to steal me blind. Of course, my wife hadn't seemed that sort either, until her

boyfriend had introduced her to his lawyer.

'Sati,' I said softly as we approached my home. My apartment's in a small complex in Santa

Monica, about half a mile from the beach. The place was owned by a high school buddy of mine, David

Stone. My friendship with David was the main reason I was living there, although he didn't give me a break

on the rent. David had a lot of money, and kept an eye on it.

Sati opened her eyes at the sound of her name. She stared off into space for a moment, then closed

them again. 'We're almost there,' she whispered.

'Yeah. Did you have a nice rest?'

She opened her eyes again and glanced out her window. The eastern sky was orange going on

yellow. 'Yes. It's going to be a pretty day, a busy day.'

'Do you have plans?'

She regarded me thoughtfully, without a trace of drowsi-ness in her eyes. 'Yes.'

'What are you going to do?' I asked.

'You'll see, after you sleep.'

My trailers are far too big to park at the apartment complex where I live. I was currently renting a

square of asphalt that belonged to a nearby car dealer. The parking spot was ideal. It was only a short walk

to my place. I didn't have to go through the hassle of unhooking the trailers from the truck every time I

came home.

As I had surmised, Sati's slippers were definitely wooden. They made funny knocking sounds after

we'd parked and were walking along the pavement. 'Where did you get those shoes?' I asked.

'I made them."

'Really?'

'I made this dress, too,' she said.

'You must be pretty handy.'

'Oh, I am.'

Fred McDougal was in front of the apartments folding papers. He worked for the Times, and also

helped David Stone maintain the grounds, for which David let him have a tiny apartment for free. Fred was

nineteen, but still finishing his senior year in high school. His dad had thrown him out of the house a few

months back and he had latched on to me as sort of an authority figure. That was fine with me. Fred was a

nice kid. He had girl troubles, too. Lori was her name, and I doubt she had any idea how much I knew

about her. The problem was, Lori didn't feel the same way Fred did. It was a common problem.

'You should be on your way by now,' I told Fred, checking my watch. It was half past five. Fred was

usually done folding his papers by five. He'd already almost lost his job the previous month for chucking a

five-pound Sunday edition at a thousand-dollar miniature poodle. He'd broken the dog's collar bone.

'My station wagon's busted,' he said, brushing aside his long sweaty brown hair. Fred and I looked

somewhat alike, and many of the things he said reminded me of myself at an early age - say, when I was

fourteen or so. Fred wasn't especially bright. Our colouring and height were alike, and we were both

slender, with broad shoulders. But Fred had a terrible slouch, and he wasn't nearly as handsome as I am.

I'm not being vain. I'm truly sorry to say Lori would have agreed with my assessment. Fred's pimples were

all over the place. He ate too much junk food.

'Did you tell Nick?' I asked. Nick Chevas was another high school chum of mine. He lived

downstairs from me.

'Mary says he won't be back until this afternoon,' Fred said. Mary Dorado was Nick's live-in

girlfriend.

'I don't know what we're going to do,' I said. 'My car's in the shop. And you're already late. How

come you're only folding the papers now?'

'I've been busy trying to find a car,' Fred said, worried, glancing at Sati for the first time.

'Did you call your boss?' I asked. 'Maybe he could help you out.'

Fred shook his head. 'He's pissed off with me. He's making me pay for that poodle's shoulder brace

out of my paycheque. He'd just as soon fire me. What am I going to do?'

Sati spoke up. 'Let's use your big truck, Michael.'

The thought had occurred to me. Had I been less tired, I probably would have suggested it already,

though it wouldn't be much fun on the gears weaving in and out of the neighbourhood's narrow streets.

'I can't drive it,' Fred said.

‘I’ll take you,' I said, yawning. I turned in the direc-tion of my parked trucks. 'Let me unhook the

trailers. I'll be back in a few minutes.'

Sati stopped me, touching my arm. 'I'll take him,' she said. 'You sleep."

I chuckled. 'And I suppose you can handle my tractor?'

'Yes.'

Her confident tone took me back a step. 'Where's your Class One licence? Do you have it in your

pocket?'Sati smiled. 'I don't have any pockets.' She glanced at Fred. 'I'm Sati.'

'I'm Fred.'

She stuck out her hand in my direction. 'May I have the keys, please?'

'But the trailers need disconnecting,' I said. 'Or do you know how to do that, also?'

'I do,' she said.

I don't know why I gave her the keys. Perhaps I wanted to see her face when she came back

without the tractor. Fred and I watched as she disappeared round the corner. 'God, where did you find her?'

Fred asked. 'She's beautiful.'

Naturally, living thirty yards away, Fred was aware of my difficulty with Linda. Yet he was under

the impression the seperation was temporary. 'In the middle of nowhere,' I said.

'Nice of her to want to help me.'

'Yeah, it is,' I muttered. 'I sure wouldn't mind hitting the sack this minute.'

"Were you up all night?"

'Yeah.'

"That's rough. So was I. Lori and I got in a big fight last night'

I knew without asking what the fight was about, and that Lori hadn't lost any sleep over it. 'They

say things get worse before they get better,' I said sympathetically. Fred shook his head. 'She went out with

another guy last Friday. I don't know why she waited until yesterday to tell me.' Yesterday would have

been Sunday.

'I don't know why she had to tell you at all,' I said.

Fred was disappointed in me. 'Don't you think honesty is everything in a relationship?'

I sat down on the curb, resting my weary head in my hands, and thought of all the times my wife

had told me exactly what was on her mind. 'No,' I said. Sati was back ten minutes later, driving the tractor

with practised ease. She parked right in front of us. She had unhooked the trailers quicker than I could

have. 'How come you're not in bed?' she called out the window, I stood, a fresh believer. 'I'm going. As

long as you're sure you know what you're doing?' 'Sleep, Michael," she said. 'Dream pretty pictures.' I

nodded, yawning. 'Whatever you say. Sati, when you're done, Fred will show you where I live. I'll leave the

front

door unlocked.' I patted Fred on the shoulder. 'Better get going.'

Fred nodded. 'So, what do you think I should do about Lori?'

'Ask Sati. She's a girl.'

My apartment has two bedrooms. One was completely crammed with the furniture and appliances

that I had inherited during my separation from Linda. Once inside, I wondered if I should leave the unusable

bedroom to Sati and crash on the couch. It was a fleeting thought. One could push the hospitality routine a

bit too far, I decided. Really, when I thought about it, I couldn't figure out why I had instinctively trusted her

so quickly.

As I fell asleep, the only pretty picture I remembered thinking of was of her face.

TWO And then Linda was sitting beside me and smiling the way she used to smile before the dark ages.

Her hair was as black as deep space and an artist had stolen the colour of her lips from a red rose. Or so I

fancied as I slowly climbed back to waking. 'What?' I croaked.

'You were snoring,' Linda said.

'Impossible. I never snore.' It was nice seeing her before I had to see anything else.

'Hah. I remember different.'

'I remember ..." I muttered, not knowing where to go with it.

'Don't you know you have Jenny this afternoon?' she asked, sitting back and taking her hand off my

arm. 'What time is it?'

'Ten. When did you get in?'

I sat up. 'Feels like a minute ago.'

'You shouldn't be working so much.'

'It's hard keeping two roofs over our heads.' I said.

That was a mistake, silly me. Linda's voice changed, and not for the better. 'If you want to go back

to sleep, fine with me. I can take Jenny with me.'

There was a note of finality in the remark. 'Where is she?'

'Downstairs, cutting flowers with Mrs Hutchinson.'

Mrs Hutchinson was an elderly widow whom David Stone had made his apartment manager.

Except for her always trying to save my soul, we got along OK. But she had never cared much for Linda.

'I'll take her,' I said.

'Are you sure?' Dick said she could come with us if you were busy.'

There was a lousy taste in my mouth. 'I'm sure. Where are you two going?'

'Shopping,' Linda said.

'Oh, yeah, my birthday's coming up.'

Linda winced. 'I'm sorry, Mike. When was it? Saturday? It just slipped my mind.'

I wondered why Linda hadn't run into Sati out on the couch, and if my truck was still in one piece. '

You can get me something extra special for Christmas,' I said, climbing out of the bed, missing only my

shoes to be fully dressed.

Linda followed me into the kitchen, where I poured myself a glass of orange juice and gargled with

it. She sat at the table and studied me. She was fond of studying people. She wanted to be a psychologist.

All her schooling had given her the profound insight that I was upset about her leaving.

'You're mad at me,' she said.

I spat out the juice. 'I'm tired.' Linda sighed. 'Let's not fight.'

'I'm too tired to fight.'

'I said I'd take Jenny.'

'Jenny doesn't make me tired,' I said.

'Well, obviously I do. You should be happy I moved out.'

'I thought I moved out.'

Linda groaned impatiently. 'Let's not get started. You remember Jenny has an appointment at two

with Dr McAllister?'

McAllister was a child psychologist. He was studying my daughter. She was having nightmares.

He had decided it was because of the break-up. He charged sixty dollars for thirty minutes.

‘I’ll take her if she wants to go,' I said.

Linda was firm. 'She's going. You don't have to listen to her when she wakes up in the night crying

.' 'You're right. When she stays here, she never wakes up in the night.'

'Dick says...'

'Screw Dick.'

Linda stood. Tm going."

'All right. But leave Jenny.'

Linda glared at me. She could look awfully sexy when she was mad. There was a time when I

used to try to get her angry just so I could look at her. It used to take a lot of work. Now I barely had to try.

Some things get easier with age, I suppose.

'I don't think so,' she said.

'Leave her here and buy me a birthday card when you're out. You can mail it to me. I can blame

the delay on the post office.'

Linda headed for the door. I drank the remainder of my orange juice and went after her. Linda was

fast on her feet. I only caught up with her when she was down-stairs beside Mrs. Hutchinson's rose

bushes. Under the careful direction of Mrs Hutchinson, Jenny was sitting on the ground and scraping the

thorns off the stems with a butter knife. A half-filled vase of thornless flowers rested beside her on the

grass. Jenny had inherited her mother's features: round cheeks, a button nose, full lips. I'd always been

thankful for that - she was darling. Her thick dark hair reached to her waist. I'd told Linda once if she ever

cut it there would be no more alimony.

Seeing me, Jenny jumped up and gave me a hug. Behind us, Linda simmered, knowing that I was

going to get my way. At least for today.

'Daddy, why aren't you sleeping?'Jenny asked.

'Because that wicked man your mother's seeing says there is to be no rest for your poor daddy unti

l..." 'Mike!' Linda said.

'I'm not tired,' I told my daughter, squeezing her tightly. And for a moment, I really wasn't I felt just

fine. 'I heard you coming in this morning,' Mrs Hutchinson said, scissors in her wrinkled hand, a note of

approval in her voice. She, was a firm believer in hard work. She was seventy-three, and up until two years

earlier, she had worked full-time as a tailor in an expensive clothes store in Beverly Hills. Arthritic fingers

had finally made her throw in the sewing needles. The scissors she was holding were for Jenny's use. She

no longer had the strength to squeeze them shut.

I let go of Jenny. 'And I smelt your coffee on my way up the stairs,' I said. 'It made me want to

stop in and say hello.' I nodded to her rose bushes. 'I love those flowers. I don't know anyone who can

bring them to life like you.' I'm such a smooth dude. It was no wonder the old lady liked me, even with my

cursed and unbelieving soul.

Mrs Hutchinson beamed. 'Thank you. I've told your daughter she was to set aside a special dozen

for you.’'See, Daddy, where one of them bit me,' Jenny said, showing me her blood-smeared thumb. I gave

it a kiss, wondering again where Sati was.

'That's very kind of you,' I said to Mrs Hutchinson. 'By the way, have you seen Fred since he

finished his paper route?'

'A moment ago. He was returning from the super-market.'

'A moment ago? He mustn't have gone to school.'

‘That he certainly did not do,' Mrs Hutchinson said, not pleased. 'He had some girl with him.'

'A blonde?'

'That's the one.'

I glanced at Linda, who was not enjoying being ignored. 'Could you wait here a sec?' I asked. 'I

have to check on something.'

'Do you know this girl?' Linda asked. She'd always had uncanny radar.

'Not really. But just give me a minute.'

In the closet-like apartment that David Stone had given to Fred in exchange for neatly trimmed

lawns and a carefully maintained swimming pool, I found Sati rolling dough and Fred opening a jar of

cherries. Fred jumped a little when I entered. The door had been left open and I hadn't knocked. Sati

paused long enough to wave hello with her rolling-pin.

'Get the papers delivered?' I asked.

'Yeah,' Fred said quickly.

'Good,' I said. 'How's the truck?'

'I put it back in your parking spot,' Sati said. "The keys are on top of your icebox.'

'Any problems?' I asked.

'No,' she said.

'Great' I sat down. Something was going on. Fred wouldn't look at me. 'What happened to school?'

'I didn't go,' Fred said.

'Right Why didn't you go?'

Fred glanced at Sati. She had put her hair up in a bun. Her white dress was sprinkled with white

flour. 'He's helping me get ready for tonight,' she said.

'Tonight?' I said. 'What's tonight?'

'We're having refreshments tonight after my meeting,' she said.

'What meeting?' I asked.

Now Fred was looking at the floor. Sati, however, was as cool as ever. 'Fred,' she said, 'give

Michael one of our flyers.'

'I don't know,' Fred said.

Sati smiled at his discomfort 'I'll give him one,' she said. Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she

removed a notebook-sized sheet from the top of Fred's waist-high icebox and took a seat beside me. She

handed me the paper. The lettering was standard typewriter characters. The page was obviously a

photocopy.

ATTENTION!

My name is Sati. I am God. I would like to invite you to a special meeting I will be holding tonight at

eight o'clock at 1245 grd Street, apartment 3. Refreshments will be served. I am looking forward to meeting

with as many of you as possible.

I stared at Sati for a moment.

'I thought you said you weren't an actress?' I said.

'I'm not,' she said.

'This is apartment three. You couldn't fit five people in here.'

'Then we'll have the meeting at your place,' she said.

I folded the flyer in two and frowned. 'What are you up to?'

Her big blue eyes were mischievous. 'Come to the meeting and find out'

I snorted. 'Who will be there? Who's seen these flyers besides us?'

'Many of the people on Fred's paper route,' she said.

'What'' I exclaimed. 'Fred, you didn't put them in with your papers?'

Fred was talking to the wall. 'We didn't exactly put them inside the papers.'

'We put them on the outside,' Sati explained. 'Underneath the rubber band. I think the flyer is

catchy. I typed it on Fred's typewriter right after you went to bed. I made copies at the Seven-Eleven store

round the corner.'

Had the circumstances been different, I probably wouldn't have blown up. If someone thinks she's

God and wants to tell others, that's her business. But Linda's waking me up and talking about Dick a minute

later had put me in a bad mood. Plus I wasn't exacdy full of physical pep. In fact, I suddenly had a splitting

headache.

'Sati, do you have any idea what you've done?' I asked, not even trying to disguise my anger.

'I know,' she said.

'Quit telling me that! You know nothing! Just last week this young man here flattened a poodle. He

came within an inch of getting fired. And that was an accident How do you think the Times is going to feel

about having this garbage purposely peddled inside their paper?'

'No one will complain to the paper,' Sati said, unmoved by my ouburst.

'You don't know that!'

'But I do.'

'Don't get mad, Mike,' Fred said meekly. 'I've never had a party here before. I'd kind of like one.'

'She's not talking about a party! She's talking about a goddamn meeting!'

Sati smiled. 'It won't be a goddamn meeting. It's a meeting about myself."

'But you say you're God!' I said.

In soap operas, people always walk in on arguments at precisely the worst moment. The same

axiom applies to my life. In the blink of an eye, Linda, Jenny and Mrs Hutchinson were standing in the

doorway. 'Who says they're God?' Mrs Hutchinson wanted to know.

Sati plucked the flyer from my paws and handed it to the old lady, casually returning to her

rolling-pin and cookie dough. Linda crowded beside Mrs Hutchinson. Together the two of them read the

good news for modern man their faces quickly darkening. Jenny stood staring at Sati in awe, a bunch of red

roses in her tiny hands.

'Did you write this?' Mrs Hutchinson demanded, her eyes narrowing on Sati.

'Yes.' Sati sprinkled a little sugar over her dough. 'You are also welcome to attend the meeting.'

'This is blasphemy,' Mrs Hutchinson breathed, trembling. Because she was so old, I worried about

her heart, which made me all the angrier at Sati.

'This Is ridiculous,' Linda sneered. 'Mike, who is this girl?'

My attention was drawn to my daughter. Her awed expression was frozen on her face. She stood

mesmerised, watching Sati make her cookies. 'I don't know," I said to Linda.

'He picked up Sad last night on his way home,' Fred said with his usual good timing.

'Is that true?' Linda asked.

'Yes,' Sati said, with no skin off her back.

'Swell,' Linda said. 'You're to watch your daughter for the day and you bring home a blonde to play

with.' I got to my feet and yelled at my wife. 'She's not a blonde I brought home to play with! She's just a

girl. She needed a ride. I was trying to help her out, all right? What's wrong with that?'

'What's wrong with that is she's trying to start a religion!' Linda yelled back.

'I won't be starting a religion this time,' Sati remarked, reaching for a cup of water.

'There'll be none of these cults gathering beside my home,' Mrs Hutchinson said indignantly.

Things might have gone on the way they were, or have got worse, if my daughter hadn't acted her

age upon absorbing the news that God was in the room. Stepping forward, shining with innocence, she

offered her flowers to Sati. 'Would you like these?' Jenny asked.

Sati put down her rolling-pin and knelt beside Jenny, 'Whatever you give me, I will take,' she said

gently, rubbing a white spot of flour between my daughter's eyebrows. 'I'll see you tonight, Jennifer.'

The tension suddenly eased, inside and outside. Little girls are good at defusing mobs. Later, I

decided, would be time enough to worry about Fred's job and a confused deity. The others appeared to

come to a similar conclusion. Mrs Hutchinson muttering under her breath, left to finish with her rose

bushes. Not looking at Sati, Linda took Jenny's hand and led her out of Fred's claustrophobic apartment.

Fred shrugged in my direction and returned to studying the label on the cherries. I knew he'd have a good

excuse as to how Sati talked him into distributing the flyers. I would listen to it another time. I went after

my family. Sati called goodbye to my back.

Linda was waiting for me in front of the apartments, near her car, pacing the pavement. Jenny had

returned to helping Mrs Hutchinson with the flowers.

'Sorry about that, Linda,' I said.

She suddenly stopped her fretting, the hardness slipping from her mouth. She laughed. 'You sure

know how to pick them.'

Just like that, just that easy, one friendly line, and I knew I would be thinking about her all day. But

I wouldn't wonder why she was with Dick instead of me. I still didn't know how I'd got her to marry me in

the first place, how I'd talked her into it. She was right, we were meant to go our different ways. She was

going to be happy and I was going to be miserable.

'I used up all my luck on my first choice,' I said.

Linda hesitated. 'That was sweet, Mike.'

I gave her a brief kiss on the forehead and turned away. I wanted to end on a nice note. 'Have fun

today, Linda. I'll see you tonight. Maybe we can go to that meeting together.'

I didn't know why I said that.

THREEJenny was glad my car wasn't available, and that we had to go to the bank in my truck. She loved

being up high while riding down the road. I'd had an expensive stereo installed to keep me amused on the

long road. She always had me crank it up on a heavy metal station. Five years old and she was an Ozzy Os

bourne fan. Once I'd suggested to her child psychologist that her favourite music might be related to her

nightmares. The dude had smiled; he thought I was old-fashioned.

But today Jenny did not want music. She wanted to talk. 'Daddy, Mrs Hutchinson said the pretty

woman was a bad person.'

'You mean Sati?'

'Sati,' she repeated, apparendy liking the sound of the word. 'Is she really bad?'

'No. She's just... different.'

'Why is God different''

'You mean, why is God indifferent,' I said.

'Huh?'

'Never mind.' My major in college, before I'd drop-ped out, had been philosophy, but neither Linda

nor I attended church. I had no idea what Jenny was thinking of when she used the word God. 'Jenny, Sati

isn't God. She's just a person like you and me.'

'But she said she was God.'

'Jenny, do you know who God is?'

'Yes.'

'Who?'

'He's the person who made Santa Claus.' Kids kill me. 'OK, Maybe he did make Santa Claus. But

if he's a man, you can see how he can't be Sati.'

'Why not?'

'Because Sati is a woman.'

'But Mommy said God can do anything. Why couldn't he be a woman?'

'Hmm. I don't know. I guess you're right. I guess God could be a woman, or a penguin for that

matter.' Jenny thought that was funny. *Sati said I could see her tonight. Can I, Daddy?'

'We'll see.' I paused, remembering my daughter's strange reaction to her. 'Why do you want to see

her?' 'Cause I like her.'

'Why do you like her? Is it because she's so pretty?'

'Uh-huh. And because she made me happy.'

'She made you happy?'

'Uh-huh.'

'What did she do that made you happy?' I asked.

'She touched my head.'

'Oh.'

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SATI/onceknewthisgirtwhothoughtshewasGod.Shedidn'tgivesighttotheblindorraisethedead.Shedidn'teventeachanything,notreally,andshenevertoldmeanythingIprobablydidn'talreadyknow.Ontheotherhand,shedidn'texpecttobeworshipped,nordidsheaskformoney.Givenherhighopinionofherself,somemightcallthatamiracle.Idon't...

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Christopher Pike - Sati

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