by Paul Bristow
“The engineer. What.”
“Ok. That narrows it down,” said Cam.
“Was it someone from Waterworx?” tried Megan, thinking of the Phoenix Egg in the shipyard.
“I was built in 1809.”
“Rubbish!” said Cam. “That’s over two hundred years ago. They couldn’t build robots like you in the olden days. Plus, you would have rusted away to nothing.”
“There have been… replacement parts. Wars. But Mr Watt did not build me for war…”
“Mr Watt… wait… James Watt? James Watt the inventor?” asked Megan.
The robot tapped the back of his neck to indicate the sign welded there. Right where he had been smacking himself earlier. Letters and numbers were engraved across the old metal plate.
“Oh yeah! It says ‘James Watt’ right here,” said Cam.
“You know Mr Watt?” the robot asked.
“Well, he’s quite famous,” explained Megan.
“I am named after him… Jimmy. A Tin Jimmy. TJ zero one.”
“Tin Jimmy,” smiled Megan, “nice to meet you. Now TJ, please can you tell us why my gran – Sarah Stone – wanted us to meet? Did you know her?”
TJ whirred and his eyes flickered for a moment. “There were cranes. And boats,” he pointed to the riverside, “all along there.”
Megan nodded. “Sounds like it’s been a while then. There haven’t been cranes here for decades.” She placed a hand on his tin shoulder. “Can you remember why she wanted me to find you?”
“And why were you tied up in a bomb shelter anyway?” asked Cam, who clearly didn’t believe in mollycoddling robots.
The robot, as if suddenly aware of his arms, moved them around. They squeaked horribly. “I was hiding.”
“From what? Did Gran hide you?” asked Megan.
TJ clicked and whirred. Megan had started to realise this meant she wasn’t going to get an answer. She gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “It doesn’t matter just now.”
“Yes it does!” said Cam. “Supposing whoever it’s hiding from is now after u–?”
“I have been underground since 11:27 pm, 23 May 1965,” TJ interrupted Cam.
There was a stunned silence. Once again, Megan could sense TJ’s bewilderment through his robotic lack of expression.
“You’ve really been down a hole in the ground for fifty years?” asked Cam.
“How are you still working?” said Megan.
“Conserved battery power. I will need to recharge soon or I will stop moving.”
“Cam’s a bit like that with chocolate biscuits,” said Megan.
Again, the robot stared into the dark, as if searching for something he could recognise. “Where are we going?” he asked.
“Good question,” said Cam. “Megan invited you to my house. She’s very kind like that.”
“Cam, if not the spare room, you’ve got a shed we can hide him in! Where would he go in my house?”
Megan and Cam were so busy with their discussion that it took them a moment to realise they were no longer alone. TJ was standing perfectly still, being examined by two policemen.
“Very impressive,” said the taller policeman of the two. “I’m assuming this is yours, yes?”
“It’s an art project,” explained Megan, “we’re doing sculptures at school.”
“Lots of sculptures round here just now,” said the smaller policeman. “I like that one with all the pointy bits.”
“Resilience,” said Cam, shuddering.
“That’s the one,” said the small policeman. “And this is your effort then?”
“Yes,” said Cam, “we were trying to work out how to move it.”
“It’s a bit late to be taking it for a walk,” said the tall policeman.
“Yes, we’re bringing it back from our friend’s house,” said Megan, feeling just a little bit bad about how easily that lie had happened, but generally quite pleased about how plausible it sounded.
“And I take it you didn’t realise how heavy it was going to be,” said the small policeman.
“No, we did,” said Megan, “it’s just that Cam hasn’t really been trying very hard.”
Cam glared at her as both the policemen shook their heads disapprovingly.
“It’s getting dark,” said the tall policeman. “I’d rather we got you and your art project home before you all get into trouble.”
“Just to be clear though,” said Cam, “we’re not actually in trouble at the moment?”
“Not yet,” said the small policeman, smiling.
“It’s just that my mum’s a nurse,” said Cam, as if this explained everything. Or indeed anything.
Megan bundled into the back seat of the police car, arms outstretched to catch the robot, or any bits that might fall off him. Both policemen and Cam lifted TJ, pushing him towards the doors and into the back seat. His legs were still hanging out the other side.
“Just need to fold it up a bit,” said the tall policeman, grunting with effort.
“Careful!” said Megan.
With a terribly unpleasant shriek, TJ’s legs folded at the knee. The flakes of rust and clay that crumbled off them suggested it had been a long time since TJ had done squat jumps. He was folded, though, and inside the car.
“Don’t forget seatbelts,” said the tall policeman.
It was a short drive to Cam’s house, and the policemen were nice and chatty on the way, talking them through various recent crime statistics and their favourite types of biscuit. They even helped get TJ out of the car and into the garden shed, only banging his head on the door twice.
Smiling, they drove off.
“TJ are you ok?” said Megan, genuinely upset. “Did we break anything? Can you still move?”
There was a brief silence, then the already familiar clicks and whirrs.
“I am fine,” said TJ, “though I think my kneecap may still be in the car.”
Chapter 8.
Sound and Fury
There was a strange high-pitched howling, a piercing shriek that shattered the silence of the early evening and suggested unspeakable horror was nearby. Startled birds flew off into the sky, dogs barked, babies burst into tears. And in Mr Finn’s house, one of the windows cracked and a teacup fell over.
“Haha!” Mr Finn was so pleased he was almost jumping up and down. “Finally! Victory for the Chaos Trumpet!” But before he had finished celebrating, all the brass buttons fell off the top, and two of the pipes popped with a defeated wheeze. “Nooo!” he shouted, hurling the trumpet across the laboratory, where it bounced off a rubber skeleton and into a big bin full of broken ray guns.
Mr Finn stopped and did some deep breathing, because that’s what his doctor had told him to do when he got too angry. Right before Mr Finn disintegrated him with a ray gun. Inventing was supposed to be his way to relax. When he wasn’t gritting his teeth being polite to annoying schoolchildren or shouting at Waterworx employees, Mr Finn liked to spend time turning useful household devices into dangerous weaponry. The Salsascope, the Microwump, the Smogmatronic – all really helpful for completing a variety of chores while destroying enemies.
Mr Finn just could not understand why his genius had gone unrecognised. How could that little twerp think his remarkable Resilience sculpture was ‘jaggy’? Soon, though, everyone would know his name.
***
Mr Finn’s laboratory was hidden beneath his huge house on the Esplanade, one of the few old parts of the town that had not been knocked down, mostly because it had all the really expensive houses in it. The big bay windows in these miniature mansions overlooked the river and the hills beyond.
Every night for the last three months, ever since he had arrived in town with Waterworx, Mr Finn had come to the lab and continued working on his creations. Then, at eight o’clock, he would stop to patiently push the buttons on his father’s old Morse-code machine. Then he would wait to see if anything happened. Nothing ever did.
Tonight, though, the machine answered back.
>
Mr Finn was so surprised that he almost spilled his Earl Grey tea all over his radiation suit.
The code he received was gibberish, just random letters. But it was working, and that could only mean one thing.
“Someone has reactivated TJ01,” said Mr Finn. “Finally!”
Mr Finn allowed himself a little smile, mostly because no one was there to see it.
“Now we can really get started.”
Chapter 9.
Code and Theory
Miss McCue beamed at the class. Not a sunbeam, warm and pleasant, more a sort of laser beam, precise and piercing. “Today we begin researching and designing our very own statue for Waterworx.”
Cam groaned inwardly.
“Cam! No complaining.”
Startled, Cam turned to Meg. “Did that happen out loud?”
“They always happen out loud, Cam,” said Megan.
“Our sculpture will be near the old sugar ware-houses.”
Meg and Cam exchanged glances. Those warehouses were circled on Gran’s map; this might be worthwhile after all.
“Maybe the statue could be a big sugar cube?” said Garry.
“Maybe!” said Miss McCue enthusiastically, even though this was a totally rubbish idea.
“Could it be a big bag of sugar beside a teacup and spoon?” asked Gemma, expanding on the theme but still essentially being rubbish.
“It could be almost anything,” said Miss McCue. “Now off you go in your pairs to the IT suite where Miss McTeer will show you how to use proper online archives.”
***
Miss McCue had deliberately not paired Cam and Megan together for this project. Probably because the last time they worked as a pair, the school had to be evacuated. There was no firm evidence that Cam and Megan were to blame, but they had laughed about it a lot more than everyone else.
Cam had been paired with a really quiet boy from class, Kevin McCallum. Cam didn’t like Kevin. It’s not that there was anything really unpleasant about him, it was just that Cam didn’t like most people. Especially people he didn’t know. He knew this was a bad habit and he was trying to grow out of it. He just wasn’t trying very hard.
Kevin was one of those pupils who sort of faded into the background, like wallpaper. Always there, but never noticeably so. If he ever committed a crime, he would almost certainly get away with it because the police description would be: ‘An average boy of average height and build with no distinguishing features.’
Kevin tapped Cam on the shoulder. “I was thinking the statue could be a big Licquorice Allsorts man, because, you know, sugar.”
Cam smiled in spite of himself. “Yeah. Or a sherbet fountain that actual sherbet comes out of.”
“Can’t be any worse than a sugar cube,” said Kevin. “I’ve got quite a few different ideas for what we could do. Would you like to see?”
“Yes Kevin,” said Cam, hoping that Kevin was one of those partners who liked to do all the work. “I really would.”
On the other side of the classroom, Megan was partnered with Gemma, who was busy giggling and googling tea-party pictures for inspiration.
Megan’s mind was still on TJ and the map, however. She had barely slept the night before – whenever she dropped off she had insane dreams about flying away from explosions, TJ creaking and flickering, and Gran drawing circles on a map and telling her something she could never properly hear. Her arms were bruised from accidentally floating into objects in her room.
She wondered if TJ would ever remember what her gran had meant for her to do with him. They’d plugged him into an extension cable and left him charging in Cam’s shed. Maybe he’d remember more when he was fully powered, or maybe they’d find something to fix him with at the next location on the map?
As her eyes wandered around the IT class, she spotted a bundle of coloured cables attached to a Lego model of a crane. Miss McTeer was busily footering with the cables, and every few minutes she would turn to a nearby computer screen, type something on the keyboard, and watch while the crane slowly moved. Sometimes the movements seemed to make her happy, other times, she would scowl, tweak the cables and type in something else.
“Bored with research already?” said Miss McTeer when she realised she was being watched. But she was smiling, because she was one of the three nice teachers all schools are legally obliged to have.
“Well,” said Megan carefully, “what you’re doing looks a bit more interesting.”
Miss McTeer nodded the grateful nod of the under-appreciated, and Megan knew she wouldn’t have to worry about research for the rest of the afternoon. “Would you like me to explain what I’m trying to build?”
“Totally,” said Megan.
“Well, I’ve spent the morning hooking all these cables up between the Lego and my computer. Now I’m programming the Lego to move.”
Megan delicately picked up a tiny green plastic circuit board. “What does this bit do?”
Miss McTeer smiled. “That’s the brains of the operation. It’s the computer that controls the whole set-up.”
Megan looked again at the small plastic wafer. “This thing?”
“Yep. It’s called a Goozberri Five,” said Miss McTeer. “It’s a really powerful wee computer that can pretty much be connected to anything. Once I’ve tested the program out on the Lego, I’m going to use it to control a robotic arm.”
Now Megan really was interested. “Where did you get a robotic arm?”
“I made it at home,” said Miss McTeer.
“That’s amazing,” laughed Megan.
“Is it?” said Miss McTeer, who probably wasn’t used to people thinking that sort of thing was at all amazing. “Listen, I’ve started a lunchtime coding club for second years. You should come along if you’re interested. Everyone’s doing their own project.”
“Really?” said Megan, surprised to find she was actually excited by the idea.
“Yeah! You could have a go at programming anything you like. Some of my pupils are making alarms for their rooms, or weather stations for geography homework, even connecting them to solar panels. It’s really up to you!”
“Hmm,” said Megan, “I think I have something I’d like to program.”
***
It had been a while since Megan and Cam had walked home from school having enjoyed their day. It was quite a pleasant experience.
“What’s Kevin like then?” said Megan. “He always seems really quiet.”
“A good laugh actually. He gets a bit overexcited about stuff,” said Cam. “Think we might suggest the statue is one of your gran’s monsters.”
“Aw Cam,” said Megan, “Gran would’ve loved that.”
Cam smiled and they walked in silence for a moment.
“I’m joining Miss McTeer’s coding club,” said Megan. “I’m going to learn how to program TJ.”
“Coding club?” said Cam. “That sounds even less fun than the chess club.”
Megan punched Cam on the arm. “Don’t you get it? I can program in school, pretend it’s for a Lego robot or something, then see if I can connect it to TJ.”
“But he’s already programmed. Won’t that just confuse him?” asked Cam, for once sounding mildly concerned about the robot.
Megan smiled. “You said ‘him’. TJ must be growing on you.”
Cam groaned.
“His programming has to be a bit old-fashioned,” Megan continued. “But we might as well try to help him remember stuff.”
“Maybe,” said Cam. “It would just be a shame to accidentally turn him into a terminator or something. Oh, I meant to say, think I found a place online that does Morse-code paper.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, for museums and science classes. I asked Mum to order some for us.”
“That’s brilliant Cam!”
Cam stopped outside his garden gate. “Yeah, it’s given me an excuse for all the strange lights and noises in the shed while we’ve been oiling and charging TJ,” he explaine
d. “I’ve told her I’m using it as a lab.”
Just then, there was a small but very definite boom, causing the two of them to jump. Megan briefly forgot to land back on the ground after her jump, but fortunately Cam was too busy looking in disbelief at his garden shed. Smoke billowed out from beneath its door and through both–now broken–windows. The door creaked open and they could see TJ standing inside with a smoking bottle of fertilizer. The beeping sound of the Morse-code machine echoed round the garden.
“Cameron,” said TJ calmly, “your shed is compromised. I may need somewhere else to hide.”
“What have you done?” shouted Cam.
“It is not my fault,” said TJ. “The contents of the shed are dangerous if mixed together and set on fire. There should be a sign explaining the danger, Cameron.”
Cam groaned. “This is going to be worse than when I bought bath bombs for the goldfish.”
“Is your mum in?” asked Megan, genuinely worried.
“She’s on backshift,” said Cam, “but my dad’ll be in.” He glanced nervously up at the house.
“Look,” said Megan, “I’ll take some of the blame. We can say it was a science project that went wrong.”
Cam looked at the smoking hollow shell that used to be a shed. “I suppose if they think I was doing school work I might only lose one month’s pocket money.”
“Cam? What’s this? What’s going on?” Cam’s dad was hanging out the window, looking tired and unhappy.
“We’re ok Mr Molloy,” said Megan quickly, “but I think we copied down the chemistry homework wrong.”
Cam’s dad looked at the smoking garden shed. “Cameron, what have we told you about paying attention in class?” he barked.
“Sorry Dad.”
“Get it cleaned up,” he said. “You can explain it to your mum. And what’s that?” He pointed down to TJ.
“Art project,” said Megan. “We’re doing sculptures.”
“Flippin’ sculptures everywhere,” muttered Cam’s dad, disappearing back behind the curtains. “Stupid Chronos bell always making me jump out of my skin at work…”
“There,” said Megan, turning back to Cam. “All sorted.”
