Jake tried not to smile. Mason was only a few years older than himself, but he wore each year of difference like a decade. To him, Jake was just one of those damn kids these days. He often reminded Mason of their closeness in age but now he just nodded. “He’s not here.”
Mason grabbed a screwdriver from the floor and turned back to the workbench. “Of course he’s not here.”
“He should be. Where is he?”
Mason shrugged and shoved the screwdriver back into the backpack-sized device, aiming for a screw head Jake couldn’t see. “He’s running somewhere. He’s climbing something. Or he’s falling off something else. Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll tell us all about it when he gets back. Then he’ll tell us all about it again.”
“Just leave it for him.”
“No. It needs to get done. If I leave it for him, it’ll never happen. Besides, it’s my gear so it’s my ass if it doesn’t work right. Savant’ll be just fine back in the truck. The lazy brat.”
There was a zzzt from inside the disrupter and Mason jumped back a step onto one leg with his forearm over his face. He held the pose for a moment and looked cautiously over his arm.
“What’s wrong with it?” Jake asked.
“It’s a piece of junk.”
Jake sighed, preparing to explain once more how no money meant no new things. “Look, I’d get a new one but…”
“No, thank you. The new ones are even worse. Everything now is just made to break. So you have to buy a new one. Not like it was before. Now if you don’t mind, I have to be careful not to shock myself again.” He placed the screwdriver back in the device once more.
“Shouldn’t you unhook the power before you do that?”
“Why? I’d just have to hook it back up again anyway.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “Duh. Stupid me.”
“Your words.”
Jake turned and stepped away as the lights dimmed, the sparks flew and Mason screamed, “Sonofabitchinlittleprick!”
He trudged back across the shop and back up the metal stairs toward his office with numbers running through his head. All of them had minus signs in front of them.
Glitch stopped him short of the door with an upraised hand.
“I don’t want to talk about ankles or 16th-century exhibitionists, Glitch. I just want to go to my office.”
“Your uncle’s here.”
Jake looked at the office door and sighed. “I don’t want to go to my office.” He opened the door anyway.
Uncle Aaron was sitting behind the desk, bouncing back and forth in the chair. His grin grew larger when Jake stepped in. “There he is.”
“Hey, Aaron.”
“‘Hey, Aaron?’” The older man stood and moved around the desk with a spring in his step that said I need a few bucks but I’ll pay you back. He stretched out his arms. “You don’t have a hug for your favorite uncle?”
Jake didn’t move.
“Okay,” said Uncle Aaron. “I guess it is kind of weird to hug your business partner, isn’t it?”
Jake shook his head, embraced the man and grimaced as three hard smacks landed on his back.
“That’s a good boy. Now I won’t have to tell your mother you weren’t happy to see me.”
Jake worked his way around the desk and sat in his chair. He felt the spring pop a little more than usual before the seat locked in a position that wasn’t comfortable. He would have to add it to the list. “What can I do for you, Aaron?”
The old man sat on the desk and leaned forward. “How’s our business?”
“It sucks.”
“Then sell. I’ll sign whatever I need to.”
“There’s nothing to sell. Everything’s broken.” Jake jerked a thumb toward the office door. “Even Glitch.”
“The money’s in the name.”
“Ashley’s Robot Reclamation of Green Hill? Do you think?”
“Well, then make it an acronym.”
“No one is going to buy ARRGH,” Jake said.
“You never know until you try.”
Jake Ashley’s eyes narrowed on his uncle. The grin on his face was a little too big to be truly genuine, but there was something new in it. “What’s her name?”
Aaron stood up and waved the question off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your new girlfriend. What’s her name? Skylar? Tiffany? Cinnamon?”
Uncle Aaron sat in the guest chair and smiled. “Meagan.”
“Hmm,” Jake said. “She doesn’t sound like a former stripper at all.”
“She’s not.”
“Then she must be crazy.”
“I’ll have you know she is an executive director. Does that sound crazy?”
“Depends on what she’s an executive director of.”
Uncle Aaron turned his chair as he answered, possibly hoping the squeak would cover his response. “Society for the Preservation of Humans.”
“Society for the…”
“Yes. Yes. Society for the Preservation of Humans. So what?”
“A humans first organization? The big one, even. She sounds well balanced.”
“It’s just a job. Look, do you have anything for me or not?”
“Not.”
“Damn it, Jake.” Uncle Aaron stood and gestured toward the office door. “This place is going down. We have to get out while we can.”
“You’re pretty much out already.”
“Then save yourself and my five percent.” He slammed his palms onto the desk.
Jake let out a cough. “Three percent.”
He slammed his palms on the desk again. “My three percent. It’s time to end it.”
“Quit?”
“Yes, quit.”
“Dad always said that Ashleys aren’t quitters.”
“He was full of shit. Of course we’re quitters. We’re born quitters. I quit things all the time. C’mon, Jake, be a quitter with me.” Uncle Aaron smiled his uncle’s smile and sat back down. The smile faded into one of his rare serious moments. “Look, Jake. The business is dying. Not just ours, but the whole industry. They’re making bots better. And even the shitty ones come with a longer warranty. Pretty soon it will be just the corporate boys junking their mistakes. There’s no room for the little guy anymore.”
The independent shops were closing. Or selling. Or failing. But Jake wasn’t ready to give up just yet.
“I heard from a buyer, Jake.”
“Who would want to buy this place?”
“It doesn’t matter who they are. All that matters is that they’re interested and they’ve got more money than a whore after the Super Bowl.”
Jake leaned forward in his seat. “I’m not quitting.” He stood and crossed the office.
“Be honest, Jake.” Uncle Aaron stood and pointed to the phone on the desk. “When was the last time that phone rang?”
The phone rang.
Uncle Aaron dropped his arm. “Well that is just the worst timing ever.”
Jake grabbed the phone. “Ashley’s Robot Reclamation.”
“I mean a guy is just trying to make a point and the stupid thing just rings all over it. I hate machines.”
Jake held up a finger to shush his uncle and turned back to the phone. He answered the caller’s question. “Yes, we’re junkers.”
2
The Beast was named for its size and lumbering gait in traffic. But that didn’t mean it didn’t sound like a beast, too. The engine roared. The brakes shrieked. And there was a growl from a source that Kat had never been able to quite pin down.
The sixty-year-old vehicle charged through traffic like an elephant with hurt feelings, trumpeting over the quiet hum generated by the electric cars that filled the road.
By law, passenger cars had to be aware of their surroundings, and a hundred sensors in each vehicle were screaming at their guidance systems to get out of the way of the big red truck as it barreled through town. Traffic parted before the team as the Travelall bullied its
way to the edge of the city and into the night.
They lined the bench seats and did their best not to bounce against each other as the Beast swayed back and forth on exhausted shocks. The interior smelled of fuel and exhaust and the odor mixed with the unending motion turned Jake’s stomach. He fought the queasy sensation and focused on what lay ahead.
He made sure he knew where the window crank was and said, “Tell us what we’re looking at, Mason.”
"Okay.” Mason produced a tablet and began to read the information. “Two hours ago some fat farmer walked into his cornfield and…”
“Mason.” Jake interrupted and instantly recalled a dozen conversations that had started this way.
“What?”
“Forget the commentary. Just give us the facts.”
“It is a fact, Jake. The dude weighed like three hundy.”
“It’s irrelevant. And rude.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Miss Manners, but I think it is relevant to know that the bot we’re looking for took down something the size of a buffalo with no trouble. Now, if it was me going in there, and it is by the way, I think that’s something I’d want to know.”
Jake gave a reluctant nod and looked out the window.
“This is about safety, Jake. And, honestly, I’m a little hurt that you’d think this was about anything other than the wellbeing of my coworkers.”
Jake waved him back toward the tablet. “Just get on with it.”
“No.” Mason set the tablet in his lap. “I’d like an apology first.”
“Are you serious?”
“Are you sorry?”
Jake rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’m sorry I accused you of being insensitive.”
“That’s more like it.” Mason lifted the tablet once more. “As I was saying, this fatty in the dell here waddles into his corn crop about two hours ago, possibly to check on a malfunctioning piece of equipment or, more likely, to make a sandwich.”
Jake pounded the door. “Mason!”
“They found him dead with corn embedded in his chest,” he read. “Oh big surprise, food killed him.”
Jake pinched the bridge of his nose. It didn’t help the growing headache as much as he’d hoped. “Just tell us what we’re up against.”
“It’s a ZUMR, Model number R34-P3R Organic Compliant Deterrent System.” He held up the screen to show everyone a blue-line schematic of the machine.
“It looks like a scarecrow,” Glitch said.
“Points for you, Tin Man. That’s exactly what it is.” Mason turned the tablet back so he could read more. “Here’s an ad for it. It suggests putting a hat and shirt on the thing for that old farm feel. Gives everyone a touch of the nostalgies I guess. But underneath the stupid hat it’s a state-of-the-art murder murderer. You can tell from the oh so clever headline, ‘Scares Crows Dead.’” He read further ahead to himself. “That’s weird. The thing’s brand new.”
“It does what to crows?” Glitch asked. “How does it do that?”
“It fires corn kernels at about 2500 feet per second from this mini-gun on its right arm. And cuts them up with the scythe-looking thing on its left.” He held the screen toward Glitch and waited for the cyborg to process the image.
“That’s a terrible idea!”
“It’s quite genius, actually. I can’t imagine corn makes a very good bullet. So, what better way to make up for accuracy than with an insane amount of volume?”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I mean, how can they get away with killing the birds?”
Mason shrugged. “It’s a part of ZUMR’s guilt-free farming line. The corn is all natural. So is crow blood. Crow feathers. Crow guts, too. So the crops remain completely organic, legal, and free of flying vermin.” Mason paused and chuckled. “Scares crows dead. I get it now.”
“You think this is funny?” Kat asked from behind the wheel.
“Pretty funny. Yeah.”
“You’re a horrible person, Mason,” Kat said.
Mason shrugged again. “Okay.”
Jake turned back from the window and glared at Mason. “Enough! Just tell us where to hit it.”
Mason tapped the pad several times before shaking his head. “I’m not really seeing any weak points. If the mini-gun overheats it will start popping the kernels. That seems to be the biggest beef on the forums. Actually, that could be kind of fun.”
“Nothing else?”
Mason searched the information. “No. It’s weatherized. But that shouldn’t be a problem for our disruptors.”
“Good,” Jake said. “Let’s make this takedown quick. And take it easy on the equipment. Don’t pull the trigger any more than you have to. Most of all, stay safe.”
Kat spoke to Jake without taking her eyes off the road. “If this thing is so new, why did they call us?”
“The warranty team gave them a window of several days before they could come. I guess the farm decided that stopping a robot’s murderous rampage was something that couldn’t wait.”
“We don’t get many of those anymore.”
“Corporate calls or owners with a conscience?”
“Yes.” Kat pulled onto the exchange and followed the ramp onto another freeway. A small car swerved out of the way, waking its sleeping passenger.
It was another hour on interstates, highways and farm-to-market roads before the truck turned down the mile long driveway that led to the farm. Corn grew in fields on either side and Jake watched the stalks sway in the gentle, late-day breeze.
He rolled the window down to let the smell of the field into the car and the smell of the car out. Cold air blew in. He fought back a shiver as Kat pulled into a parking lot and stopped the Beast beside a black SUV that was only a fraction smaller and newer than the Travelall.
She killed the engine and waited for it to ping to a stop. She pointed to the black truck and spoke. “I thought you said they weren’t coming.”
Jake watched as the door to the truck opened and a woman stepped out into the chilly night air. She shivered and pulled on a windbreaker bearing the ZUMR Robotics logo. She smiled at Jake and shut her door.
“Hey, that’s…” began Glitch.
“What’s this bullshit?” Mason asked.
“Wait here.” Jake turned to Kat. “All of you. I’ll see what’s up.”
The Travelall door squeaked as it opened and clanged as he forced it shut behind him.
“Your team can turn around, Jake,” the woman said. “ZUMR will handle this.”
“The hell you will.”
“It’s our equipment, Jake.”
“It’s our call, Hailey. You left them hanging.” He smiled for the first time. “Which doesn’t surprise me at all.”
Her smile faded. “Well, I’m here now.”
“You certainly are.” He looked over her shoulder. He knew she was hiding long and rich dark hair beneath her corporate cap. He knew it smelled like warm coconut. He shut out the memory. “But where’s your team?”
A whirring sound came from inside her truck and a small robot emerged from the window. No bigger than a coffee can, the Whir-bert flew on small rotors and bleeped and blooped as it perched on Hailey’s shoulder.
“Your team’s gotten smaller since the last time,” Jake said.
“They’ll be here. There was some kind of mix-up at dispatch.”
“Sure there was.”
Before she could respond, a door to one of the office buildings flew open and a man in a suit jogged across the parking lot to the couple. He steered toward Hailey and stuck out his hand. “Ashley? Thank God.”
The woman put out her own hand.
Jake stepped in front of her. “I’m Ashley.” He tried to intercept the handshake.
The man in the suit pulled his hand back. “You’re Ashley?”
“Yes, sir.”
The man offered his hand again, but with some obvious hesitation.
“Is there a problem?” Jake asked.
“I guess I just expected s
omeone less mannish.”
Hailey laughed at this.
“Jake Ashley,” he said with emphasis on the Jake. “We’re here to help you with your malfunctioning equipment.”
“Oh, I see. I’m Dan Forester. I’m sorry. I’m sure that happens quite a bit.”
“It does,” Hailey said with a laugh.
“You’re probably used to it then.”
Jake shook his head. “You’d think so.”
Forester turned to the woman with the robot on her shoulder. “So, are you with him?”
“Hardly.” Hailey stepped in front of Jake and took the man’s hand. “Hailey Graves. ZUMR Robotics, Warranty department.”
“But, I thought you couldn’t be here. I was told you couldn’t be here.”
“They aren’t,” Jake said. “Miss Graves is alone. My team is here and we’re ready to go.”
“My team will be here shortly,” Hailey argued.
“But it’s moving.” There was panic in the corporate famer’s voice. “I told your company this, Miss Graves. We don’t want it to harm anyone else.”
She nodded where she was supposed to nod, made a sad face at the sad parts and then responded with practiced confidence. “My team should be here in an hour, Mr. Forester.”
“An hour!” Forester and Jake joined together in their disbelief.
“It could be gone in an hour, Miss Graves,” Jake said. “We need to take care of this menace right now.”
Whir-bert looked at Jake and blasted a series of angry bleeps.
Hailey protested as well. “Sir, if you’ll just be patient, ZUMR will handle this situation.”
“And what is the reward for his patience, Miss Graves?” Jake asked. “How many more have to die? And how many stories have to be written about all those dead bodies that piled up while we just stood here and waited?“
“Jake,” she hissed.
Jake turned back to the man in the suit. “We can have this taken care of in no time, Mr. Forester.”
“Any actions taken by an independent contractor will void the machine’s warranty.” How she loved to lecture.
Dan Forester cared about people. That was obvious. But the talk of capital investments shook his principles. Jake could see the hems and haws coming. He had to get in front of them.
Junkers Page 2
