by Phil Lollar
Connie put a hand on Donna’s shoulder. “How bad was she? Mrs. Hooper, I mean?”
Donna stood and started pacing. “She called me ignorant and a derelict and tried to show me her bruises from where she said they beat her with rubber hoses! I ran out of her room and just stayed on the bus until it was time to come back here.”
Connie nodded sympathetically. “That’s pretty bad, all right. And Lucy didn’t say anything?”
Donna stopped in front of the train set and watched the tiny cars race around the tracks. “Well . . . I guess she did say that Mrs. Hooper was difficult. And Lucy and Richard both said not to touch her flowers and plants, so I suppose I should have taken that as a warning.” She turned and faced Connie. “But I didn’t touch them, and Mrs. Hooper was still horrible to me!”
“Richard? Richard who?”
Donna grimaced. “Richard Maxwell. He’s an orderly slash janitor at the home.”
“How do you know him?”
“Remember my friend Rachael? I hung around with her a lot a few months back.”
Connie shook her head. “Vaguely.”
Donna looked embarrassed. “She almost got me in trouble. Turns out she was pretty bad company. Anyway, Richard is her older brother. Well, half brother.”
“Ah.”
“That was another problem with today. It was weird seeing him there.”
“Why?”
Donna shrugged. “I don’t think he’s great company either.”
“He can’t be all bad if he’s working at the retirement home.”
“Maybe. But knowing Richard, he’s got something bad going.” Donna sighed. “I guess seeing him just brought back some feelings I’d rather forget. And combined with Mrs. Hooper . . . it just wasn’t a great day.”
Connie rose and put her arm around Donna’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Donna. But that’s the nice thing about this place. You always have friends here.”
Donna smiled. “I know.” Another sigh. “I guess I’d better get home. Thanks, Connie.”
“Anytime.”
Donna picked up her bag and left the Train Room.
“And now I can turn off the train,” Connie muttered. She looked around the set for the off switch but couldn’t find it. It had been awhile since she’d done this; maybe she had forgotten where the switch was. Then she remembered. There wasn’t a switch, just a plug. She rounded the table until she found the power cable, but it went under the big platform the train set sat on and right into the floor. “Hmm. No plug and no switch. Now what?”
She went to the door and yelled, “Eugeeeene—oh!” she jumped back, startled.
He was standing in the hallway. “No need to shout, Miss Kendall. I’m right here.”
She slapped him on the arm. “You scared me! I wouldn’t have shouted if I had known you were there.”
He smirked. “That has not been my experience with you, but it is of no matter. How may I be of assistance?”
She let the slight pass. “I’m trying to turn off everything, but the train set won’t.”
“Won’t what?”
“Fly to the moon,” she said sarcastically. “Turn off, Eugene!”
“Ah. Did you try unplugging it?”
“Duh, yeah! But it doesn’t unplug anymore. The cord goes through the floor.” She pointed. “See? Whit changed it . . . among other things.”
Eugene nodded knowingly. “Oh yes. That’s true. Well, stay right here, and I’ll see what I can do.” He headed down the hallway.
“What do you mean stay? Where’re you going?”
He kept moving away. “The office,” he said over his shoulder.
She called after him. “The office? But the train set is in here!”
He stopped in front of Whit’s office door and fished a set of keys from his pocket. “Yes, I know,” he called back. “Wait right there.” He found the right key, inserted it in the lock, opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him.
Connie scowled, frustrated. “Wait right there,” she muttered mockingly. Why wouldn’t anyone tell her what was going on around here? Maybe Glossman, as loathsome as he was, was onto something. Maybe she and Eugene weren’t equals after all.
She put her hands on her hips. I’m getting tired of being left out of everything, she thought. Well, not this time! “Eugene!” She stormed down the hallway toward the office. “Eugene! I want to know what you’re doing! It’s not fair!” She reached the office door, knocked, and without waiting, opened it and walked in. “I should be allowed to know what’s . . . going . . . on.” Her voice trailed off, and her mouth hung open.
The big bookshelf in Whit’s office had moved aside, as though it was a door on a hinge. The shelves concealed a whole other room—a room filled with computer equipment. Eugene stood in front of the large screen and talked to it. “Mabel, please load program—”
“Eugene?”
He whipped around. “Miss Kendall! What are you doing in here?”
She was awestruck. “So this is what Whit has been working on? What is all this?”
Suddenly, to her further astonishment, the electronic equipment answered. “Please repeat command. I do not have program called ‘Miss Kendall, what are you doing in here.’” The voice was female but metallic. Connie thought it sounded like a robot.
Eugene turned back to it. “Sorry, Mabel. Please load the program for the train set.”
Beep. “Stand by.”
He turned back to Connie. “Miss Kendall, you’re not supposed to be in here. Mr. Whittaker made it very clear—”
“It’s a big computer, isn’t it? Does it operate the whole shop?”
Beep. “Train-set program loaded.”
“And it talks, too!”
“Yes!” Eugene looked flustered. “Miss Kendall, I could get in big trouble for this.”
She waved him off and moved farther into the room. “No you won’t. I came in on my own. You can’t help it if I saw all this.” The blinking and beeping were mesmerizing. “This is incredible. I mean, I’ve seen laptops and even big computers before, but this looks like something out of a spaceship.”
Eugene huffed and then turned to the computer. “Mabel, please turn off the train set.”
Beep, blink, boop, whir. “The train set is off.”
He turned back to Connie. “There. The train set is off. There is no reason for us to remain—”
“I want to see more! What else does it do?”
“Miss Kendall—”
She folded her arms adamantly. “I’m not leaving until you show me, so you may as well just save your breath.”
He sighed. “Child.”
She stuck out her tongue at him. “Sticks and stones. What else does it do?”
“Mabel, program menu on screen, please.”
Beep. “Program menu on screen.”
Connie giggled. “How does it do that? Talk, I mean.”
“Artificial intelligence,” Eugene said haughtily. “Something I’m sure you wouldn’t know about.”
“I know about it!” she sneered. “It’s, uh, intelligence that’s . . . that’s—”
“Artificial?” He smirked.
“Exactly! Kind of like artificial Christmas trees. They’re fake. They’re made to seem like the real thing, but they aren’t.”
He emitted a soft, condescending hiss. “In its most simplistic definition, I suppose you’re close enough.”
If she could actually have seen his eyes behind all that hair, she was sure they were rolling. She didn’t care; Mabel was too fascinating. The big screen in front of them displayed a long list, and she recognized almost everything on it. “Look at all the programs. It has everything in the shop, even the kitchen appliances!”
Eugene nodded curtly. “It’s a master control. May we please go? If Mr. Whittaker comes back now—”
A new program caught her eye. “Hey, what’s this one?” She pointed. Eugene leaned in.
It was a program called Applesauce.
>
Eugene jerked upright, obviously uncomfortable. “I’m not permitted to talk about that one.”
It just made her want to know about it all the more. “Oh, come on, Eugene. Why do you get to know everything? Let me see.”
“No!” he barked. He had never been that abrupt with her before. He must have realized how he sounded, because he composed himself and went on more quietly. “I mean, we can’t. Mr. Whittaker was adamant that this program be left alone. It is not to be touched under any circumstances.”
Oh no. She wasn’t going to let him get away with that. “It couldn’t hurt to have a quick peek.”
He took several short breaths. Was he hyperventilating?
“Miss Kendall, we’re not communicating very well this evening. First, Mr. Whittaker didn’t want you to know this computer and room even exist—and now you know. Second, Mr. Whittaker doesn’t want you to touch the Applesauce program—and now you’re trying to persuade me to go against his wishes.” His face was very red. “I won’t do it! And I’m extremely disappointed that you’re persisting. I expected better behavior from you.”
She suddenly realized he was serious. She felt bad that she had brought him to this point. She held up her hands in surrender and tried to make light of the situation. “All right, all right! You don’t have to get all preachy with me! It’s just a computer program. I didn’t think it was such a big deal.” She laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, okay?”
His breathing became more measured, and his face slowly returned to its normal color. “Apology accepted. Now I must insist that we leave . . . immediately. Mabel, log off.”
“Logging off.” Beep, whir, blink. “Good-bye.”
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning was Connie’s turn to open the shop. Eugene had a study group at the college and would be in a little later. Whit called soon after she opened and said he would be in that afternoon. As usual on a Saturday, the place soon filled up with kids. She was just finishing setting up the soda counter when Donna Barclay walked up.
“Connie.”
“Hi, Donna. Feeling better today?”
Donna shrugged. “Sort of.”
“Sort of? Did you see Richard Maxwell again?”
“No, but I have a feeling I might.”
“Why?”
Donna sighed. “I haven’t talked to Mr. Whittaker yet about what happened yesterday. You know how he is about these things. He’ll want me to go back and visit Mrs. Hooper again.”
Connie nodded sympathetically. “That sounds like Whit, all right. But you know why he’ll want you to do that, don’t you?”
Donna rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Because it’s the right thing to do.”
Connie smiled. “And not just for Mrs. Hooper, but for you.”
“You know, that sounds like Mr. Whittaker too,” Donna said, grinning. “Anyway, I thought before I talked with him, I’d have a little fun with the train set. But it isn’t working, and I can’t find the switch to turn it on.”
Connie thought for a second, then remembered. “Oh, that’s right. Eugene turned it off at the computer last night.”
Donna looked confused. “Huh?”
“Nothing. I’ll get the train running for you, but I need to go to the office for a few minutes. Can you watch the soda counter for me, Donna? Just let me know if a customer comes in.”
“Sure!”
Connie rounded the counter’s corner, crossed the room, and bounded up the stairs. She had a set of keys on a lanyard around her neck, and when she got to the office door, she sorted through them, selected the right one, unlocked the door, and walked inside.
She tried to remember what Eugene did when they left last evening. First, she needed to get the bookcase out of the way. Eugene locked it—the keyhole was in the wall next to the case. Now where did he put the key? Yes . . . in one of the books. But which one? She searched the books, trying to recall. The titles flipped by: Voyage of the Dawn Treader, The Magician’s Nephew, The Silver Chair. Wait! This one. This was it. The Last Battle.
She took the book from the shelf and opened it. Sure enough, the key was pressed inside the front cover. She retrieved the key, set down the book, inserted the key in the lock, and turned it. There was a loud click and a soft, vacuum-like sound. The bookcase creaked as it slowly swung open. The familiar hum of the computer greeted her.
She stepped into the room and up to the big screen. Now how did she get this thing to work? Maybe if she just talked to it like Eugene did. She cleared her throat and adopted a serious tone. “Mabel?”
Beep. Whir. “Good morning, John Avery Whittaker.”
So much for serious. She giggled. “It’s not him. I mean, I’m me. I mean, I’m not John Avery Whittaker. I’m Connie. Why am I explaining this to a stupid computer?” A breath. “Mabel, I need you to turn on the trains, please.”
Beep. “I do not understand.”
She frowned. Weren’t computers supposed to be smart? She slowed down and spoke louder. “Turn. On. The. Trains. You know, trains? Wooo-wooo! Tracks? Chugga-chugga-chugga? Turn them on.”
Beep, whir. “Please make your selection from the program menu.”
Connie blinked. “Oh! Good idea. The program menu; that’s what Eugene said.” The menu appeared on the big screen. She scanned it and found “train-set program.” Now how did Eugene say it again? “Mabel, please, uh, please . . . oh yeah! Please load the train-set program.”
Beep. “Loading train-set program.”
Ha! Success. All right!
Beep-beep. “Train-set program loaded. Run train-set program?”
“Uh, yes, Mabel. Run train-set program.”
Beep-beep. “Train-set program is running.”
Connie grinned broadly. “Great! Thanks. Boy, this is so easy. Eugene isn’t the only brainy one, Councilman Glossman.”
Beep, whir. “Please make your next selection from the program menu.”
“Next selection? I don’t want to make a next sel—”
She stopped. There it was on the menu screen.
Applesauce.
Curiosity suddenly overwhelmed her. She wondered what Whit put in the program. Maybe it was a file about her. One of those personnel files about how she was doing. No, Whit would tell her if she was doing something wrong. Wouldn’t he?
Her brow furrowed. What if he hadn’t been happy about her work and didn’t have the heart to tell her? If the file was about her, she should be allowed to see it, shouldn’t she?
“I’ll bet Eugene’s looked at it,” she muttered. It wasn’t fair. Why should he get to know all the secrets, especially ones about her? She didn’t get to know any of his secrets. Maybe they were in the file too.
Yeah, that must be it! Both of their files were on there, and now she’d be able to see his secrets like he’d seen hers. A little peek wouldn’t make any difference—not if she and Eugene were truly equals. She cleared her throat again. “Ah, Mabel? Please load the program called—”
“Connie?”
She jumped and shrieked. “Aaah! What?”
It was Donna standing frozen and wide eyed in the computer-room doorway. “Wow. I didn’t mean to scare you!”
Beep, whir, boop. “Please repeat command. I do not have a program called Aaah-what.”
Donna stepped into the room. “Look at all this equipment!”
Connie’s heart raced. “No. You don’t see this, Donna. Promise me you don’t see it. Just go back to the counter and forget about it. Promise me, okay?”
Donna backed away, looking at Connie as if she was crazy. “Uh, sure, okay, whatever you say, Connie. I’ve just never seen—”
“I know, I know. I said the same thing when I saw it.” She forced herself to calm down. “But you have to pretend like you didn’t see it. Nobody’s supposed to know it’s here. Okay? Please?”
Donna still looked wary but nodded. “Okay. I didn’t see it. It doesn’t exist.”
“Thanks. I’ll be out in a minute.”
> “Okay.” Donna turned and walked away, shaking her head and muttering, “Wow.”
Connie exhaled, relieved. She couldn’t believe what she almost did.
Beep. “Please repeat command.”
She turned back to the screen. “No, just forget it, Mabel.”
Beep. “I do not understand.”
“I wanted you to load Applesauce, but—”
Beep, whir. “Loading Applesauce.”
“What? No. Don’t!”
Beep. “Applesauce is loaded. Please push any key to continue.”
“But I don’t want to push a key.”
Whir. “Push any key to continue.”
“I told you—”
Whir. “Push any key to continue.”
Connie growled. “All right, all right!” She punched the space bar as though it were a red-hot coal. “There. I’ve pushed the key. Now will you just stop and—”
Beep, whir, beep. “Applesauce level one. Internal matrix for Whit’s End is loaded. Systems check beginning.”
Her eyes widened. “Internal what? Mabel, what are you doing?”
The computer beeped, whirred, and blinked faster and faster. And now there were other noises as well. They were outside the room but within the building: clanking, honking, buzzing, ringing, whirring, knocking, pinging, revving, and a muffled alarm. Connie looked back and forth rapidly between the noises out there and the beeping, whirring, and blinking in the room.
“What’s all the noise? What are you doing, Mabel?”
Donna ran back into the room, looking scared. “Connie! Connie! Everything’s going crazy—all the displays, the trains, the Imagination Station. They’re going nuts!”
Connie’s heart pounded and she started to sweat. She whipped around to the screen. “Oh no oh no oh no. Don’t do this to me, please. I’m sorry! How do I turn this thing off?” She started mashing keys on the computer keyboard. “One of these has to turn it off!”
Donna pointed to the ESC key. “Try that one!”
Connie pressed it repeatedly. “I am, I am! Just go and tell everyone to . . . to get out of the building. Pretend it’s a fire drill or something. And be calm!”
