"You got a problem with it?"
"It just seems like it would be one of those forbidden self-indulgences."
"Rule number one, Willow. Thou shalt not judge thy superiors."
Interesting, thought Andie. A smoker. A peeping Tom--literally. Yet his voice imprint had been virtually identical to Felicia's. He was either a believer with some weaknesses, or a nonbeliever with incredible acting skills. Either way, Andie wanted to explore.
They continued over a hill toward the chicken coop, where they were greeted by the ammonia-laden odor of fowl excrement and the incessant chirping of hundreds of week-old chicks. Like ants they climbed over each other at various feeders and waterers spaced evenly throughout the coop. Little yellow fuzzy balls, wall-to-wall cuteness. It made Andie think of Easter, till she looked more closely. A few lay dead on the ground. The weak stumbled about, too timid to make a serious charge toward the source of nourishment.
"Pick up the dead ones," said Tom. "Put them in the bucket."
Andie took the bucket and entered the coop, careful not to crush the live ones. With each step she sent clusters of chicks scattering. Every few feet she found a dead one. She felt a mixture of pity and disgust, especially for the eviscerated ones that had been cannibalized by their sisters. Each carcass weighed practically nothing, but soon her bucket was heavy. She finished in a few minutes and returned to Tom.
He took the bucket and handed her another. "Now get the weak ones."
"In a bucket?"
"Yeah. Like this." He grabbed a chick that was stumbling around the fringe. It chirped pathetically in his hand. With one quick jerk he silenced it, then tossed it in the bucket.
Andie had seen much worse in her career, but Tom seemed to expect some revulsion from Willow. He somehow seemed to think he was impressing her. She played along. "I can't kill an innocent little chick."
"Yeah, you can."
"But I don't want to."
"It's your job, Willow."
"But you do it so well."
"And with a little practice, you'll be every bit as good." He winked:
It wasn't easy to flirt with an obvious loser like Tom, but it seemed like a way to open the door. "I would think picking up chicks comes pretty naturally to a guy like you."
"That was my other life," he said with a smile.
"Quite the heartbreaker, were you?"
"Hmmmm, I had my fair share."
"And now you're . . . celibate?"
He quickly deflated. "Felicia will talk to you about that."
"I just assumed that was part of the deal. All this talk about weaning oneself of earthly desires. Sex has to be right up there with cable TV and ice cream."
He was obviously uncomfortable. Andie asked, "Am I making you nervous?"
"Just, men and women aren't supposed to have this discussion. Felicia will talk to you."
"I'm sorry. Somehow I just felt at ease talking to you." That seemed to please him. "Really?"
"Yeah. You know how you just get a good feeling about a person?"
"Uh, yeah."
"But hey, if you're uncomfortable, let's just go back to killing baby chickens."
"No, I wasn't rejecting you."
"I hope not," said Andie. "It would be nice to have a friend."
"I don't think there's anything in the rules against that." She glanced at his cigarette. "Not that the rules are written in stone."
"Smoking is a minor infraction:' he said defensively. "More serious stuff can get you kicked out."
"Like what?"
"Like . . . sex."
"Why is that so bad?"
"Because it not only depletes your energy, but it takes you further away from the source. That's the whole problem with satisfying your worldly urges."
"So this entire belief system is based on abstinence?" "No. It's based on fulfillment. But it comes in ways you've never experienced before."
"If it's so fulfilling, why do you still enjoy things like smoking?"
"Because I'm still human. To be honest with you, I don't really enjoy smoking all that much. I just do it. That's the way it is with everything that binds us to this world. That's the cornerstone of Mr. Blechman's philosophy. He teaches us that our emotions, our impulses, our desires--they're like an echo."
"An echo?"
"Yeah. Any experience is most intense and gratifying the first time. Each subsequent experience is mere repetition, growing weaker and weaker, like an echo, until we are totally disconnected from the source of energy that inspired us to try something new in the first place."
"I don't want you to think I have a one-track mind, but I wouldn't say the best sex I ever had was the first time I had it."
"Get beyond sex, will you, please? Think of the first time you saw the ocean. The first time you rode a bicycle. The first time you flew on an airplane."
"The first time you killed?"
He was taken aback.
"Like a baby chick, I mean," said Andie.
"That works too. Anything that makes you feel a rush of energy and changes your level of vibration. After a while we simply become numb to it. But we keep doing it, hoping we can get some glimpse of the thrill we experienced the first time."