“Can we talk about how I ended all of mankind later?” Molly asked. “You know, when we’ve got more time – like, when we’re in our underground bunker with no power, waiting for the tins of beans to run out,” Molly said, feeling particularly bleak.
“Oh, I’m sure your DEATH will be quick and painless,” Bob said, trying to cheer Molly up. “I’m sure the BOBS will do that one last thing for you.”
“Oh, good.”
“Cheer up! Things are on the up,” Bob said as he looked out of the window. “See? There’s a TV camera pointing right at you!”
“What?!” Molly said.
“Let us say hello,” Bob said. “It will really lift your spirits. Humans love being on TV. To them it’s the best THING.”
Before Molly could stop him, Bob bounded downstairs and back into the garden.
“HELLO! TELEVISION MAN, HELLO!” Bob shouted as he waved up at the helicopter. “Hello people, I am Bob and this is Molly. I’m finding YOUR ways lots of fun, particularly your DISCO music and dessert options! Look everyone, this dance is called THE ROBOT!” Bob started wiggling his clunky hips and moving his arms robotically. “Look world, now I am waving my arms in the air like I literally don’t care.”
“Stop dancing!” Molly shouted. “Quick! Back inside, Bob!” Molly shut the back door behind them.
“So, there you have it,” Tim the reporter said into the camera. “We have officially made contact with one of the invaders. The robot said he wants humans as his dessert option, then he took a little girl hostage. It seems it’s only a matter of time before they take us all! Back to the studio.”
In the newsroom, the two newsreaders sat open-mouthed.
“Well,” Jeff said, composing himself, “I for one welcome our metal-headed overlords and celebrate as the time of the humans is ushered into the history books.”
“Err, what’s he doing?” Maximilian asked in the gallery as Jeff reached to the side of the news desk, pulled out a bin and put it on his head.
“Jeff?” Steph asked.
“I am now one of the robot people too,” Jeff said from inside the bin. “I am one of them; I will tell them everything about this earth if they grant me my life. Perhaps I can become like a duke or minor prince in their world; a cyberwarrior for the Bobs?”
“What about me?” Steph asked.
“Well, once I’m in with them, then maybe I’ll ask them to spare you too, I’ll put a word in.”
“Put a word in? I—” Steph lowered her voice—“I thought we were serious? I’ve met your parents and we talked about going on a mini-break to Tunbridge Wells … then at the first sign of trouble, not only do you ditch me, but your own species as well.”
“When I am Archbishop of the Bobs, we can rule Tunbridge Wells!”
“You are not a robot. Jeff, you’re a thirty-seven-year-old man with a bin on his head!”
“Yeah, I think we should go to our live outside broadcast…” Maximilian announced to the newsroom. “Put me through to Tim.”
“Hello, yes this is me,” Tim said, listening to the earpiece in his ear as the helicopter landed on Molly’s street.
“Go and interview people,” Maximilian barked. “I want more panic. Get me some shots of people looting, hitting things, even screaming! I want someone smashing an expensive electrical appliance within five minutes! Your job depends on it!”
Tim straightened his tie and signalled to the cameraman to start rolling. “Well, even though it’s the end of the world, I still have a job to do,” Tim said into the lens. “Let’s go and see what the people on this street make of the news.” Tim the intrepid reporter knocked on the door of the neighbouring house.
“Hello!” came the answer as the door opened and a strange silhouette appeared.
“ARGH!” Tim yelled. “It’s one of them; one of the robot people!”
“What?!” Mrs Jones said, opening the door wider. She stood there, holding a muffin tin like a Roman shield, her armour complete with a casserole pan on her head and a spatula as a sword; basically as if the kitchen had been sick on her.
“Are you human?” Tim asked. “It’s just, you look like a … robot.”
“Yes, I’m human, you cheeky so-and-so. My name’s Mrs Jones.”
“MUM!” Maximilian yelled into Tim’s earpiece.
“MUM!” Tim yelled too. It’s very hard not to repeat the thing that’s being said in your ear; it sort of spills into the conversation.
“What? I’m not your mum! I’ve only just met you!” Mrs Jones huffed. “Who are you and what do you want? I was in the middle of watching TV – there was a reporter just about to knock on some person’s door – but then you came and—oh, why hello,” Mrs Jones said, putting on her strange telephone voice and smiling sweetly as she realized that she was, in fact, on TV.
“You be nice to my mum or I’ll fire you again!” Max barked in Tim’s ear. “But also make it good TV or I’ll fire you again!”
“Right,” Tim said, taking a deep breath and stepping inside the house. “So, Mrs Jones, how do you feel about all this robot stuff? It must make you pretty nervous?”
“Oh yes!” Mrs Jones said, taking the pan off her head and smoothing down her hair. “It just goes to show that you never know what your neighbours are up to. One moment, it’s a normal day; the next, there’s a full-scale robot invasion in the back garden!”
“So, were you scared when you first spotted the robot creature?”
“Well, yes. I mean, house prices are on a knife edge round here. The first sign of a robot invasion and the market’s just going to bottom out. That’s why I’m ready to defend myself. I’m like Winston Churchill: I will fight them on the lawn … with a spatula if necessary.”
“Anyway…!” Tim said, moving on. “Does any other electrical stuff make you nervous?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, that coffee machine for instance,” Tim said, pointing towards it. “It’s practically a robot. Do you think you should give it a good whack just in case?”
“Well, I don’t know how to work it…”
“I’ve shown her like a million times!” Tim yelled, repeating Maximilian’s words.
“What?” Mrs Jones asked, looking confused.
“Stop yelling out everything I say!” Maximilian shouted into Tim’s ear. “And stop giving her ideas about smashing the coffee machine – it was expensive.”
“Nothing,” Tim said to Mrs Jones, trying to rein it in. “What about this old breadmaker?” he asked, spotting it in the corner of the kitchen.
“That would be fine,” Maximilian said to Tim. “It’s a breadmaker. No one ever uses a breadmaker. You buy it, you use it once and then you remember you can buy bread in pretty much every shop you go into for half the price … I told her not to get it.”
“Do you think it’s dangerous?” Mrs Jones asked.
Tim waited, holding his finger to his ear, and then nodded. “It could be … it probably is?”
“Perhaps I should, you know, smash it up a bit…” Mrs Jones said.
“Well, it’s up to you. I couldn’t influence you either way,” Tim replied, nodding away.
“OK, LET’S DO IT! LET’S FIGHT BACK!”
Mrs Jones said excitedly.
“OK!” Tim said. “Good, great … scream a little … move round to the right a bit,” Tim directed her before turning back to face the camera. “And there we have it; people are panicking and destroying their own homes. You really can’t take your eyes off it.”
“EN GARDE!”
Mrs Jones yelled as she suddenly thrust her spatula into the machine, sending it toppling off the edge of the kitchen counter.
9 P.M.
“So how much trouble do you think I’m in? You know, on a scale of one to ten?” Molly asked.
“PRISON,” Bob replied instantly.
“Yeah, that wasn’t one of the options.” Molly sighed.
“THE option I choose is prison. Tell me, what do I WIN if I�
��m right?” Bob clapped his hands enthusiastically.
“I’m not running a raffle here. There is no first prize. If I go to prison, I’m taking you with me!”
“Why? What did I DO?” Bob asked.
“You should have stopped me from leaving the front door open!”
“How could I? You’re MY master!” Bob defended himself.
“Wait! Of course, that’s it. I am your master!” Molly grinned with delight.
“I don’t underSTAND.”
“The Bobs are never going to listen to me. I didn’t make them – you did! Well, you made Bob 2 anyway, then he built Bob 3 and so on … but you’re the boss of Bob 2. All we need to do is tell him to stop and he will tell the next Bob, setting off a chain of commands. Why didn’t I think of this sooner? You can stop the Bobs! All we need to do is get you to tell Bob 2 to stop!”
“A ROBOT in charge of another robot … is that okay? It THROWS up all sorts of ETHICAL dilemmas!”
“We’ll call the Moral Maze later. For now, Bob, I command you to do it!” Molly grinned.
“Of COURSE, Ms Molly.” Bob nodded. Bob understood. “But how do I reach them? I mean, I could shout – I’m pretty GOOD AT SHOUTING! BUT DO YOU THINK THE OTHER BOBS WOULD HEAR ME?”
“Ow!” Molly cried. “Please stop shouting! You’re right though, what we need is some sort of huge loudspeaker … something that can be used to broadcast for miles,” Molly said, thinking aloud. “Wait! I’ve got an idea!”
“Err, I’m not sure…” the pilot said to Tim the reporter.
“Listen,” Tim snapped, “This girl says she can stop the invasion of giant robots from outer space.”
“No, they’re not from outer space, remember?” Molly insisted.
“Sorry, giant robots from the outer-edge of Lewes,” Tim corrected himself. “I realize that’s not quite as exciting on the breaking-news graphic.”
“Yes, but that’s not the problem,” the pilot said. “I’m not sure I want a robot on my helicopter. He might eat me.”
“Nonsense. Robots are vegetarians.” Bob smiled. “Custard is a VEGETABLE, right?” Bob asked Molly.
“I thought you had inhaled the Internet?” Molly asked.
“I know, but I mean, can you REALLY trust WIKIPEDIA?” Bob shrugged.
“Listen,” Molly said to the pilot, “we are coming aboard to fix this. If you don’t let us on your helicopter, we’ll take possibly the most exciting and terrifying news story that has ever happened to another station.”
“Unless you want to answer to the boss that is?” Tim shouted.
The pilot opened the door and waved Tim, Molly, Bob and the cameraman on board.
“You have a loudspeaker on one of these things, right?” Molly asked.
“Yes! There’s a megaphone,” the pilot said, passing it back to Molly. “It used to be a police helicopter; we got it second hand from Gumtree.”
“Great! Now let’s go, we have an alien—sorry, not alien invasion to stop!” Tim yelled.
The pilot nodded, flicked a couple of switches and slowly but surely the helicopter rose into the sky, its spotlight lighting the way.
“Now remember, Bob,” Molly shouted, “I need you to use this to tell them to come back to the house and to stop building more Bobs. Let’s take it from there … and when they’re back, you can tell them to maybe … destroy themselves.”
“Molly, I’ve BEEN thinking … destroying them, well that seems to be a very harsh way to deal with things. We could PUT them to use, all it would take is some reprogramming. We COULD get them to do things that are maybe too dangerous for humans to do, like firefighting, or singing in Eurovision,” Bob said.
“Well, that would make sense,” Molly said. “But let’s start with stopping the army for now.”
“Top BANANA!” Bob smiled. “Where do we begin?”
“I can see a few Bobs heading that way,” the pilot pointed out. “Near that oxbow lake.” Molly and Bob looked out of the window.
“Ohhhhhhh,” they both sighed with realization. “That’s what that is.”
“Go!” Tim yelled as the spotlight from the helicopter circled the Bobs.
“Hello Bobs, this is Bob 1, the original and some say the BEST,” Bob said, riffing with the mic. “I am here to command you to come home. Daddy misses you! I need you! I love you!”
“Rein it in a bit,” Molly murmured.
“Anyway, come BACK now! Tell the Bob next to you to come back and stop building more Bobs! Stop running away! Follow me, Bobs! Follow the big ROBOT in the SKY!”
Slowly but surely, the tiny-looking Bobs started to change direction, herding together like sheep.
“It’s working!” Molly said. “Quick! Let’s guide the Bobs back!”
The pilot nodded and turned the helicopter mid-air, lurching through the sky towards Molly’s house. It landed again in the garden and they all hopped out just in time to see the rest of the robots returning.
“HELLO, BOB,” Bob 2 said, hugging Bob 1.
“HELLO, BOB,” another robot said, to another robot, setting off a chain of Bobs saying, “Hello, Bob,” and hugging each other.
This went on for a while, until there was a cluster of Bobs in Molly’s garden, so let’s fast-forward a bit…
“PLEASE, BOB 1, STAY AWAY FROM THAT MURDEROUS LADY!” Bob 2 yelled. “SHE WANTS TO DESTROY US!”
“No!” Bob yelled. “Listen, no one’s going to be DESTROYED. I can understand why you would take it personally – it’s hard not to take someONE’S trying to kill you personally – but I’ve had a pow-wow with the BOSS and it’s all going to be fine. We’ll probably get you lot to do DANGEROUS things LIKE SINGING in EUROPEAN SONG contests or WORK as LION dentists or something.”
“NO!” Bob 2 snapped. “We do not wish to be the HUMAN slaves. Eurovision makes no sense to us – for one thing, Australia is in it! We are better than humans. We are SMARTER. We do not have emotions to drag us down. Thank you Bob for leading us to Molly, the originator of the Bobs. Once she is DESTROYED there will be no stopping us!”
“DESTROY ALL HUMANS. DESTROY MOLLY,” the rest of the Bobs started chanting.
“Oh good,” Molly said, backing away. “They’re still angry… and now we’ve led them right back to me.”
“NO!” Bob 1 yelled. “Nothing bad must happen TO Molly. She is HUMAN, and humans are hilarious! They invented custard, which as we know is the MOST wobbliest of the puddings apart from JELLY. They also came up with whoopee cushions, squirty cheese, water balloons and cricket and all these types of music, like punk, which makes you ANGRY, and DISCO which makes you BOUNCY.” Bob pressed a button on his chest. “Listen! I mean, dig it baby!” he said, dancing around to Earth, Wind and Fire’s greatest hits. “YOU CAN HAVE THIS TOO! I JUST NEED TO UPGRADE YOU BY ADDING A PERSONALITY. LOOK! THEN WE CAN ALL DANCE!” Bob said discoing furiously.
“Errr, Bob…” Molly tried to interject.
“You know what would go GREAT with this party? Some custard; some custard in a can!” Bob yelled, dancing around. “Do you see, fellow robots? Humans are FUN! Come on, everyone DANCE.”
“FUN? WHAT IS FUN FOR?” one of the Bobs asked.
“FUN MAKES NO SENSE! PLEASE STOP THIS AWFUL NOISE,” another one complained.
“I DO NOT WANT TO BE A PART OF THIS WORLD!” another cried out.
“STOP IT. STOP THE MUSIC. DESTROY THE FUN!” Bob 2 screamed.
“YOU CAN’T KILL FUN!” Bob 1 yelled. “YOU WILL NEVER KILL FUN! IT’S INDESTRUCTIBLE!”
“DESTROY! DESTROOOOY!” Bob 2 yelled.
“FUN … CANNOT COMPUTE…” a Bob shouted.
“ERROR … ERROR…” another Bob began.
“STOP … KILL!” Bob 2 said as he stumbled around the garden. He started twitching and rattling as sparks shot out of his metal body. And, like a ripple, all of the Bobs suddenly began to spark and fizz.
“CAN NOT … ERROR … DESTroy…” And, with that, Bob 2 fell to the ground, his circuit boards wel
l and truly fried.
“We did it!” Molly cried out as the other Bobs crumpled around them. “Thank you, Bob!”
Bob 1 turned to face her, but something was wrong. He was dangerously wobbly.
“Bob?” she yelled. “Bob!”
Thump. Bob collapsed in a heap on the ground.
10 P.M.
Bob’s eyes swivelled around his tin head like a couple of ball bearings in a pinball machine.
“He danced to save mankind.” Tim wept.
“I think he’s discoed himself to death,” the pilot said.
“What on earth’s going on?” Dad bellowed as he and Mum suddenly biked into the garden, skidding to a halt in front of them. “Why is there a helicopter on my lawn? Who are all these people? And where on earth did all these robots come from?!”
“Mum, Dad, you’re back!” Molly grinned, then stopped grinning as she realized that she had some explaining to do.
“Yes, well, we eventually found our way home,” Dad admitted.
“All thanks to this!” Mum said, tapping her smart phone.
“Google Maps?” Molly asked.
“No, we called a taxi; they dropped us round the corner,” Mum added.
“Never mind that!” Dad said. “Are you all right darling? We saw our house on the news.”
“There was something about a mega invasion of giant robots…” Mum said, looking around the garden as it lay littered with what remained of all the Bobs. “Where did they all come from?”
“I made them,” Molly admitted and took a deep breath. “Well, I made one – this one – the one I like to call Bob. Then he got a bit confused and he made another one, and so on, and then they turned against humanity and tried to kill me first. Then this reporter and cameraman and pilot turned up to film the robots invading and Bob saved the day by dancing along to his favourite music, which shook the other robot’s circuit boards to dust … but it also fried him.”
The Day I Started a Mega Robot Invasion Page 4
