“Slimmillillibit,” replied the robot. “It’s an ancient and respectable name.”
“Must be! It’s sure a king-size mouthful! Reckon I’d better call you Slim. I’m Bolts—Bolts Brown, that is. You got me kinda loopy with all these flowers. Where’d they come from? You sure didn’t raise ’em here!”
“I made them,” Slim said. “From the glass. There’s no other material available.”
“B—but they can’t be glass! They don’t bust up when you touch ’em—and they bend!”
“Oh, it has to be softened. I have my methods. I’m mostly glass myself, you know.”
“Naw!”
“Oh, yes. Special glass. I’m bendable, but quite unbreakable and practically indestructible. All my family is the same way, and I expect the oldest one of us is still busy somewhere. I’ll have you know I’m from a long and honorable super-glass line, and naturally would be a great credit to any proper household. But alas, I fear I’m doomed to spend eternity here.”
“For what?” Bolts asked. “You done something wrong?”
“Certainly not! Did you come here to insult me? The idea! There’s never been the least suspicion of criminal inclinations in any of us.”
Bolts was becoming confused. “Then how come you’re wasting your time on a runaway asteroid making glass flowers? Ain’t you got nothing better to do?”
“Better?” Slim exclaimed, aghast. “If one has time to spend, how can it be better spent than in making flowers? I’m afraid you’re from a very low order of beings. A creature that has no appreciation of flowers is lower than an insect, and I refuse to associate with it. As lonesome as I am, I must ask you to leave.”
“Aw,” Bolts protested, “I never said nothing against flowers! These are downright triple-extra. What I mean is, did you come here special to make ’em?”
“I came here,” Slim said haughtily, “to mine for glass. This place happens to be the family glass mine.”
“Glass mine! Never heard of such a thing!”
“You’re distressingly ignorant. Here we mined the basic material for our super-glass. All my family is made from it. We have our own factory, you see.”
“Your own factory! You—you mean you make yourselves?”
“Who else could make us?” Slim raised his head proudly. “Don’t you realize how very special my family is? Each of us comes equipped with a knowledge of the forty-seven most proper languages of the universe. After an apprenticeship in our factory, we are capable of serving anywhere—among proper people, of course. Naturally, we reserve the right to choose our household.” Slim paused, and shook his head sadly. “But I’m afraid my day will never come to serve.”
“But–but what’s keeping you? Why—”
“Unfortunately,” said Slim, “I am marooned here. It happened, oh, ever so long ago. This asteroid—it was practically next door to the factory—passed through a magnetic storm and went wild. I was all alone on it at the time, and the storm was so great that it was impossible to rescue me. Now, of course, rescue is forever out of the question.”
At this moment Commander Brown called worriedly on the radio. “Bolts, time’s passing! What’s going on? What have you found?”
“Excuse me, Slim,” said Bolts. “I gotta talk to the big boss. Commander, this critter is a skinny robot, name of Slim, who got marooned here. He’s a wiz with glass, and he needs rescuing bad. Reckon you could make a place for him on Battleship Lane?”
“Great guns!” cried the commander, very excited. “Where’s he from?”
“A super-glass factory on the other side of nowhere.”
“Heavens above! Are you sure he isn’t dangerous?”
“Pshaw, he wouldn’t hurt a flea.”
“Then bring him along! This is the greatest find of the century!”
“Slim,” said Bolts, “consider yourself rescued as of now. The commander says he’s got a place for you. So pack your ditty bag, and let’s scram.”
“I will not!” Slim said emphatically. “Haven’t I made myself clear? My family has never served any but proper people. I couldn’t possibly lower myself and do otherwise.”
Bolts stared at him, astounded. Then he snapped, “Aw, get off your high horse and lissen to reason! My people are right outta the top drawer, and they don’t come better!”
“I fear you’re mistaken,” Slim said haughtily. “Proper people are rare, and they certainly don’t exist in this remote corner of the universe. Furthermore, the language you speak is anything but proper.”
“Aw, you can’t judge ’em by the way I talk. I’m only a tin dawg!”
“Well, if your people are so proper, what color is their blood?”
“Bright red, of course!”
“Oh, how garish! Don’t you know that the best blood is blue?”
“Pshaw!” Bolts turned away in disgust. “I never seen such a highfalutin’ critter! If you’d rather stay here on your lonesome and yak with the space bats till you’re batty, it’s up to you. I’m goin’ to Battleship Lane.”
“Wait!” Slim cried. “I—I don’t want to stay here. But I simply can’t allow myself to choose improperly. There’s one absolute and positive proof about people.” He clenched his four hands together nervously, then asked almost in a whisper, “H-how do they feel about—flowers?”
“Huh?” Bolts gaped at him. “What’s flowers got to do with it?”
“Because,” said Slim, “it takes a top-drawer brain to fully appreciate flowers. Only proper people have top-drawer brains.”
Poor Bolts was suddenly doubtful. Somehow he’d got the idea that only sissies went in for flowers. And you sure couldn’t call Bingo a sissy, or the commander either. On the other hand there wasn’t anything wrong with their brains. Then he thought, By Joe, mebbe I’m the sissy one, ’cause I sure think these flowers are super! Or does that just prove I got me a real top-drawer brain?
Time was passing, and he knew there was only one thing to do.
“Slim,” he said, “I got a feeling my whole gang would be downright loopy about these things—but don’t take my word for it. Grab all you can carry, and come and see for yourself.”
So it was that Bolts and Slim, much to the astonishment of everyone, presently appeared with enough glass blossoms to make the Space Jumper look like a florist’s shop.
“Wow!” Bingo exclaimed in delight, practically overcome.
“Gleaming glory!” gasped the commander, also practically overcome. “I’ve never seen anything so gorgeous!”
“Blow me down!” said Big Butch, awed. “They’re out of this world!”
“Out of this world!” cackled Pirate. “Out of this world!”
And even Claws, who had seldom glanced at a flower, nearly purred himself hoarse.
The happiest of all, of course, was Slim, for he was sure now that he had found a proper household.
By this time the asteroid was far past the earth’s orbit, and every second was taking it farther and farther away. So naturally the flight home took them days instead of hours. In the beginning, poor Bolts almost overheated his brain trying to make proper translations for Slim and the commander. However, long before they landed at Battleship Lane, Slim was spouting English like a schoolteacher and was becoming scandalized by Bolts’s speech and manners.
“I do appreciate all you’ve done for me,” he told Bolts very politely. “And as a return favor I’m sure the commander will be pleased if I help you overcome your—ah—unutterable uncouthness. Surely it must pain you to be a disgrace to such a—ah—top-drawer household.”
“Ah, phooey!” Bolts grumbled, and crawled under a bunk beside Claws. “Whaddaya want out of a tin dawg? Life’s plenty rough as it is.”
But it got rougher as Slim persisted, and if Bolts had ever thought Slim might be slightly sissy because of his manners and flower-making, he soon changed his mind. Slim was as tough and stubborn as the special glass that had been used to create him.
The commander had radioed of
their success on the asteroid, and when the Space Jumper landed, there was a swarm of reporters to meet them. But at their first sight of Bolts, everyone was disappointed. He looked so foolish and innocent, and he felt beaten down from so much of Slim’s stubborn schooling. The photographers who wanted his picture shook their heads.
“It’s hard to believe,” said one, “that anything like you ever captured Major Mangler single-handed, besides doing what you did on the asteroid. I’m afraid a picture of you wouldn’t be very convincing.”
“How about a little action?” suggested another. “Could you show us how you captured Major Mangler?”
“Aw,” Bolts pleaded, “I don’t want to shiver nobody—I mean anybody.”
They laughed. “Oh, come on! Give us some action!”
“O.K., fellers. You asked for it.” He raised his steel hackles, snapped out his terrible teeth, loosened his nerve-shattering Number Two, and gave a sample charge in Slim’s direction.
Slim shrieked and fell quivering, and nearly everyone ran. There was such a panic that Bolts almost missed getting his picture in the papers. It hardly mattered, for all the papers carried long pieces about him, and soon everyone knew he was a Very Important Dog.
About the Author
Alexander Key (1904–1979) started out as an illustrator before he began writing science fiction novels for young readers. He has published many titles, including Sprockets: A Little Robot, Mystery of the Sassafras Chair, and The Forgotten Door, winner of the Lewis Carroll Shelf Award. Key’s novel Escape to Witch Mountain was adapted for film in 1975, 1995, and 2009.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1966 by Alexander Key
Cover design by Jesse Hayes
ISBN: 978-1-4976-5258-3
This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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Bolts Page 8
