“Do you want to play Last Supper?”
“Is that some kind of Jesus thing?” asked Mike. “Cause I already told you I was an atheist.”
“No, it’s not a… well… it is, but not really. You list what twelve people you would want to invite to a dinner party.”
“Me and twelve people in one room,” mused Mike. “That’s not The Last Supper; it’s Dante’s Inferno.”
“You don’t have to just pick people who are alive now. You can pick anyone who has ever lived.”
“All right. Go ahead. Dazzle me.”
“Well,” began Ryan. “Of course, first I would pick Jesus Christ.”
“Then George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Franklin Roosevelt, Thomas Edison,” Ryan counted off happily on his fingers. “Then it starts to get hard. Ronald Reagan, um… John F. Kennedy, Neil Armstrong… um… oh, Martin Luther King Jr., Albert Einstein, um… and Paul McCartney.”
“You still need one more,” said Mike.
“No, I’m the twelfth.
“No, you need twelve plus yourself—like Jesus and the twelve apostles.”
“Oh, um, then… Ringo Starr.”
“Well at least you won’t need an interpreter,” said Mike. “Everyone at your party speaks English, except Jesus.”
“Jesus can speak any language.”
“Of course he can. Maybe he can do some card tricks too, because your party is going to be boring as shit. You don’t have one single female, or married female for that matter.”
“There weren’t any women at The Last Supper.”
“Bull. Even I know that Mary Magdelaine was at the last supper,” said Mike. “And before you tell me that she had a minor role because all she did was wash feet, let me remind you that Jesus washed a few feet and nobody ever accuses him of having a minor role.”
“I wasn’t going to say that,” said Ryan. “I didn’t know she was there.” He thought for a moment. “I do know the bible says ‘the devil can quote scripture to suit his own purpose’.”
“That’s not the bible. It’s Shakespeare, whom incidentally would be one of my guests. The Merchant of Venice. And perhaps the devil has to quote scripture when the faithful can’t.”
“You know people would like you more if you didn’t act so smart and superior all the time.”
“Maybe more people would like me, but I wouldn’t be one of them.”
“Fine, you’ve got Shakespeare,” said Ryan. “Who else would you have at your Last Supper?”
“These aren’t necessarily my favorite people in history, but I think this would be one hell of a party,” explained Mike. “William Shakespeare. I’d take Einstein too. Then Julius Caesar, astronaut Gordon Cooper, Ben Franklin, Bill Clinton, Cleopatra, Mary Shelley, spy Mata Hari, Joan of Arc, Ada Lovelace, and Sacagawea.”
“I don’t know who Ada Lovelace is. She’s not that Deep Throat girl, is she?”
“No, that was Linda Lovelace. Ada Lovelace was an aristocrat and a genius—a little slutty, but no porn star. She’d fit in though.”
“Okay, so you’ve got a bunch of historic party people. I don’t know that much about Joan of Arc. Was she a partier?”
“Not at all. But you know at some point she’s going to go crazy and stab somebody,” Mike laughed.
“What about Sacagawea?”
“Huh? She can’t drive.”
“She got Lewis and Clark home safe after crossing a continent,” said Mike. “I’m sure she could get drunk Clinton and drunk Shakespeare home safe, because you know Caesar and Ben Franklin are both showing up with booze.”
“It’s hard to believe you’re not a Christian,” said Ryan
Mike shrugged and went back to his texTee.
“How about you, Patience?” asked Ryan. “Do you have a Last Supper?”
“Of course, Ryan. My Last Supper would be Bender, Wall-E, R2D2, Tom Servo, Gort, Commander Data, Robbie, Cylon Number 6, Twiki, Optimus Prime, Replicant Rachael, and the T-800 Terminator.”
“That is very funny, Patience,” said Wanda.
“I don’t think that’s funny at all,” said Ryan.
“What I find funny,” said Mike, without looking up from his screen, “is that her list seems to be about an equal mix of robots that want to serve humans and robots that want to destroy all humans.”
“I don’t find that funny either.”