The Devoted by Eric Shapiro Page A

hated Jed afterwards. He and I stayed up on more than one night discussing how satisfying it would be – primitive or otherwise – to punch Jed until his skull imploded.
    All these tools hanging from the wall. The crowded darkness by way of the lone bulb hanging. Perfect place to die. And I think I’m ready. Moreover, in fact, I’m ready to fight. Come on, let’s have it: right here/right now.
    Would they all still kill themselves if we never came back inside?
    “Okay,” He says, “I figured it out.”
    Deflated: me. He’s gone back to the topic of the order. And here I stand all itchy-blooded and panther-like.
    “I don’t know what my problem was,” He says. “I must be distracted. Always remember this: If you’re thinking real hard about something, it’s not necessarily a good substitute for just letting it come to you.”
    “When am I supposed to remember that?” I ask.
    “What’s that?”
    “‘Always,’ you said.” And here He goes all looking into me again.
    “If you think your consciousness will end tonight, you’re mistaken.”
    “Sometimes I wonder whether I’ve ever been conscious,” I feel like muttering, but that wasn’t muttering; it was the real thing.
    “As do I,” He grants me, a way of setting us equal.
    He steps over to me, puts that Hand-the-size-of-God upon my shoulder.
    “We’ve always related in that regard. A pair of curious cats.”
    “What’s your idea for the order?” I ask (curious panther).
    He steps away a bit before He resumes speaking.
    “Not only is it simple, but it’s consistent with Theodore going third to last. We go in reverse order of our arrival to the group.”
    I cross my arms. Arms, meet beating heart.
    “You see what I’m saying?” He asks me.
    “Let me think for a second.”
    “No thinking.” (Naturally.) “It’s perfect. Just, think about it: I was first, so I go last. You came second, Theodore third. Then Michael, then the women started: Beth, Cathleen, and Susan. Later was Paul--”
    My finger’s wagging. “Paul came before Susan.”
    He goes pensive for a moment, then returns to the outside world. “No, he didn’t. He did not. I remember it clearly: three women in a row.”
    “There wasn’t three women, there was four. Allison left.”
    (Nearly slammed that door off its hinges.)
    “Please don’t say that name in front of me.”

From a C-ABC interview with Allison Roth (11/6/11):
    AR: This is a very powerful individual. If most of us hadn’t left, he could have taken it to new heights. He could have convinced us that we were on Jupiter instead of Earth, and we would have believed him.
    C-ABC: How was he able to be so persuasive?
    AR: He controlled us. He controlled every aspect of our lives. Where we slept. What time we woke up and went to bed. Most of the information we consumed. And meditation was very important. We meditated all day long.
    C-ABC: Would you say to our viewers that meditation is dangerous?
    (Pause.)
    AR: If used in the...context of a normal life, then no. Probably no. But within our context it was a tool to silence the mind. Keep the mind very silent. Like a cloud. So you can’t pay attention to detail. And the more you do it, it’s like a muscle...it keeps on building in that direction.
    C-ABC: And regarding the sexual aspects of your relationship with Mr. Pike...was it ever voluntary?
    AR: Oh, yes. Of course. Very much so. I initially thought him to be extremely special in that regard. I was very comfortable. We all were.
    C-ABC: “We all” meaning all the members?
    AR: The women. Most of us. He was not bisexual, as far as I know.
    C-ABC: And the charges you’ve pressed paint the picture of a man who crossed the line...
    (Pause.)
    AR: Many lines, yes. It began to get violent.
    C-ABC: Violent? How--
    AR: He would slap us. Choke us. It wasn’t in private. He was sometimes with several of us at once. And maybe we did something wrong during the day. Maybe we left a smudge on the mirror. So we’d be in