Cyborgia

by D. M. Darroch

  Cyborgia

  Inventor-in-Training, Volume 3

  D.M. Darroch

  Published by Sleepy Cat Press, 2015.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright text © 2015 by D.M. Darroch

  Copyright illustrations and cover image © 2015 by Jennifer L. Hotes

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Sleepy Cat Press. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN-10: 1-890797-13-8

  ISBN-13: 978-1-890797-13-3

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Cyborgia (Inventor-in-Training, #3)

  A Note to My Readers

  1 | The Painted Room

  2 | Memories

  3 | Cat Captivity

  4 | The Vet Visit

  5 | Too Much Ivy

  6 | Eccentricities

  7 | On the Road Again

  8 | Alter

  9 | Patient Zero

  10 | Extreme Cuisine

  11 | Gray

  12 | The Lab

  13 | Family Therapy

  14 | The Cockroach

  15 | Cyborgia

  16 | The Ferry

  17 | The Hospital

  18 | Together Again

  19 | Camping

  20 | Antidote

  21 | Polymer

  22 | Mosquitoes

  23 | Home

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  About the Author

  For Jenn, Leslie, and Ellen. Thank you.

  Also by D.M. Darroch

  The Pirate’s Booty

  The Crystal Lair

  A Note to My Readers

  When I came up with the idea for this book, I thought I was writing a science fiction novel, something entertaining and fanciful. But as I read science magazine after science magazine, it became clear that the fiction I thought I was writing is already reality. In nearly every periodical were articles about tiny organs, called organoids being developed in petri dishes, microprocessors and bionics being used to replace limbs, and neurosurgeons implanting sensors the size of baby aspirin into the brain’s motor cortex.

  However, I ask you to remember that any resemblance to cyborgs living or dead is purely coincidental. I hope you enjoy the latest installment in the travel saga of Angus and Ivy. If you need more cyborgs once you’ve finished reading, may I suggest your local library?

  1

  The Painted Room

  Angus Clark, the Inventor-in-Training, leaned back on the soft mattress that resembled his bed and watched a woman who looked like his mother paint a Wild West scene on one wall of the bedroom. It might have been his bedroom if not for the jungle scene, pirate ship, and dinosaurs painted on the other three walls. Angus had transported himself to yet another world. Since vanishing from his parent’s garage in a flurry of baking soda several weeks ago, every day had been a collection of misadventures, inventions, and near-death experiences.

  The fat orange cat that looked exactly like his pet Sir Schnortle waddled to the side of the bed and cautiously sniffed at Angus’s dangling hand. Apparently approving of the odor of the boy’s fingers, he leapt to the bed, kneaded a spot in the comforter, and reclined beside Angus. He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable stroking behind his ears.

  Angus tucked his invention, the World Jumper, beneath the pillow before resting his head on it. He absently scratched Sir Schnortle’s head as he considered his adventures over the past few weeks.

  His foray into parallel world travel had begun weeks ago when he had zapped himself accidentally with the World Jumper. Back then, he’d thought his modifications of the barcode scanner his dad had brought home were causing it to incinerate insects and pinecones. Boy, had he been wrong! It turned out that the invention was chucking the insects and pinecones into a parallel world: a world that looked almost exactly like his but with some major differences.

  The first world had been a pirate world. He’d met a terrifying version of his math teacher Ms. Evergood who had made him walk the plank. The mere thought of her was enough to inspire him to never neglect his math homework again. His best friend Billy had lost an eye and had worn a patch. Angus had even shot a cannon!

  The second world had been even more frightening. He’d lived in a bone hut with his mother and grandmother. He’d been hunted by a lion, chased by huge ground sloths, and had nearly frozen to death in a blizzard. And worst of all, he’d had a little sister.

  He had enjoyed himself immensely during his travels. Both the pirate world and the primitive world had been accidents. At the time he’d jumped to those worlds, he’d had no idea how his invention worked. By observing and discussing what had happened, he and Ivy had figured out that it was powered by water and baking soda. They were beginning to get the hang of programming the World Jumper with codes: numbers and letters that corresponded to auras, or colors, generated by each of the worlds. They had found a crystal in the prehistoric world that could absorb a world’s aura and reflect the color. The World Jumper could read those colors and translate them into codes.

  His friend, Ivy Calloway, had been a tremendous help to him on this journey. She had balanced his knowledge and enhanced it. They each knew things the other didn’t, and they worked well together most of the time. She was lost also, even more lost than he was. She had not only lost her home world; she had lost her body, too.

  In Angus’s home world, Ivy was a perfect goody-goody. His friend Ivy, the Ivy who traveled with him, didn’t come from his home world, and she didn’t look like the home-world Ivy, because she lived inside the bodies of random animals. She was as know-it-all as the home-world Ivy, but being sassed by a crow or a wolf was less annoying than being told you’re wrong by a girl in your class. And, he’d discovered he kind of liked her. She could be funny, and she’d saved his life on more than one occasion.

  They had planned this last jump. Before, when he’d jumped by accident, she had followed his heat signature and arrived later in the body of whatever animal she could find. This time, they had tried to jump together: He had held tightly to the giant squirrel she had become in the prehistoric world. There was no squirrel here though, so he guessed their plan hadn’t worked.

  His eyelids were heavy and dropped shut.

  “Angus! Get your shoes off the bedspread! I just washed it!”

  Angus opened his eyes and stared at the woman who looked like Mom except for the ridiculous cowboy hat and chaps she was wearing. “I mean Gus. Sorry,” she said.

  “No, that’s okay. You can call me Angus. In fact, please call me Angus.”

  The cowgirl lady smiled. “So we’re done with Gus? And no more BP?”

  Angus stared at her. She turned her back and continued painting. She was adding a roadrunner behind the cactus. She stepped back, one hand on her hip, and blew a loose strand of light brown hair out of her eye. “What do you think?”

  Angus clambered out of bed. The cat that resembled Sir Schnortle immediately sprawled across the vacated spot and began snoring loudly. Angus inspected the painting. The spines on the cactus looked sharp enough to rip his clothing. The woman who looked like Mom had painted each grain of sand and desert rock with such clarity and detail that Angus couldn’t help himself from reaching out to find out if they were real.

  “Don’t touch!” She slapped his hand away. “It’s still wet.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “It looks so real!”


  “Thanks. What do you think of the pirate ship? I added the skull and crossbones to the flag.” She pointed to the wall behind the bed.

  The pirate galley sailed atop churning waves. It was headed straight for what looked to be a whirlpool off to one side. Ominous clouds hung in the sky. Angus peered at the ship. Close up, he could see the wood grain on the side of the ship, the stubble on the faces of the pirates, and salt spray misting the stern.

  “Is that me?” he asked, pointing at a tiny figure painted in the crow’s nest.

  “I’m not sure I got the goggles right. What do you think?”

  Angus gulped remembering his terrifying time in the pirate world. To the woman he said, “It’s a great painting. That ship is too large for the Puget Sound though. You would never be able to maneuver in and out of the shallows. It should be a sloop.”

  The woman tilted her head and regarded her painting. “Yes, you’re probably right. It’s a pretty good ship though, isn’t it?” She wiped her hands on her paint-smeared flannel shirt before adjusting the cowboy hat.

  The woman who looked like Mom sighed deeply and gathered up her paints. “Well, dinner won’t make itself. I’d better get to it. Now stay away from the walls so they can dry, okay?”

  Angus watched the artistic version of his mother leave the room and then turned his attention to the other walls. The jungle scene directly across from his bed depicted a snarling panther about to spring off the wall and into the room. After encountering a real lion intent on eating him in the last world, this painting made him feel a little less than comfortable. He looked at the slumbering cat sprawled on the superhero comforter and plunked down beside it. The cat opened one eye halfway, grunted, and rolled on to its back for a tummy scratch.

  “You’ve got the right idea,” said Angus and lay down beside it. “I wonder where I am.” He rubbed the cat’s stomach. “I wonder where Ivy is.”

  Angus didn’t see it coming. The orange tabby was a large cat, and its claws hadn’t been clipped in a while, so the swat drew blood.

  “Ouch!” Angus grabbed his hand away. The cat glared at him.

  “Hands off,” it meowed.

  “Oh come ON, Ivy! I didn’t know it was you. Why did you invite me to rub your belly?”

  “I didn’t. I just jumped into the cat now.”

  “I guess that means our double jump didn’t work. I thought for sure you and I would be able to travel together: me as myself, and you in the squirrel body.”

  “Oh, the double jump definitely worked,” said Ivy.

  “What are you talking about? I didn’t see a squirrel,” said Angus looking around the room.

  “I guess the squirrel was too big. I came through in a flea,” said Ivy. “That is one creature you do not want to trade places with.” The cat stretched luxuriously. “Much too small. I’ve been talking to you this entire time and you didn’t hear a word I said.”

  “Nope. I had no idea you were with me.”

  “Not with you. On you.” Ivy yawned. “So, where are we now?”

  “It kind of looks like my bedroom at home. But this is definitely not my world. My mom doesn’t paint, and my bed isn’t covered in superheroes.” Angus sneered at the bedspread. “So far, so good though. It seems pretty safe. No bloodthirsty pirates or gigantic animals.”

  “An improvement over the last two worlds then.”

  “Yep.”

  Ivy sprang off the bed and strolled around the room. “Pretty wacky decorating scheme. What’s with the dinosaur wall?”

  “Maybe this is some kind of art world or something.”

  “The art of little kid fantasies, maybe. I mean, seriously. Pirates, a western scene, dinosaurs. And don’t get me started about that dopey comforter. Grown men running around in their underwear and fancy capes? No wonder they’re wearing face masks. How embarrassing.”

  “Have you looked at these paintings, though, Ivy? I mean, really looked? They’re incredible!”

  “Yeah, yeah,” yawned the fat orange cat that looked like Sir Schnortle. “I smell something cooking. Let’s check out the rest of this house.”

  Angus followed Ivy down the stairs. Once he had left the bedroom, the place looked exactly like his family’s house in his home world. The stairs had beige carpet, just as he remembered. There was the banister he used to slide down when he was younger. In this world there were pictures on the walls. Baby pictures of his alter ego, who looked like Angus had at that age. Embarrassing pictures of his alter as an infant and toddler, hair gelled into a point, wearing dorky overalls, toothless grin in every shot, displayed where absolutely anyone could see them. He felt sorry for the poor guy.

  Ivy had waddled herself into the kitchen and sat under the butcher block where the cowgirl-mother-artist was mixing ground meat. Ivy licked her chops and began to purr.

  “Oh, you are my sweet, sweet kitty. But you’re not getting any of this delicious meat,” said the mother. “Angus dear, would you please feed Sir Schnortle?”

  “Sure, um ... Mom,” said Angus.

  The cat in this world shared the name of his pet back home. He walked to the cupboard, and there was the cat food exactly where he’d expected it to be. Finally, a world where things weren’t entirely weird. He looked at the mother again. She stopped molding the meat into elephant shapes long enough to adjust her cowboy chaps. On second thought, maybe things here were a little weird.

  The door connecting the kitchen to the garage banged open, and a man who looked like Dad came in waving tickets. “Look what I got, Gus! Tickets for laser tag!”

  “He’s Angus again,” said the mother as she sculpted tusks on the ground turkey elephants.

  The father looked at the mother briefly.

  “Huh? Anyway Gus, you enjoyed that archery so much, and some of the guys at the office were telling me about this great laser tag place. I thought maybe we could try it out sometime. What do you think?”

  “Sure, sounds like fun,” said Angus. This world was getting better and better.

  “What have you got going on here, hon?” asked the father as he gave the mother a quick peck on the cheek.

  “I’m trying something new. I call it Meatloaf Safari. What do you think?”

  “Cute. So Gus, tell me about your day.”

  “Angus,” said the mother. “He wants to be called Angus again.”

  But Angus had stopped listening. He couldn’t help wondering what the garage looked like in this world. Wouldn’t it be crazy if there was a laboratory in this world like at home?

  “Okay if I go outside until dinner?”

  “Sure. I’ll need you to set the table in a little bit.”

  Angus heard the tick-tick of the father’s car engine cooling as he entered the garage. There was a workbench in the exact same location as the one in his world. He squeezed around the car to get a closer look. This workbench was empty though. Too bad. Looking around the garage, Angus rested his hand on the bench. He felt a dry grit on his palm. He glanced at the white powder on his hand and then ran his index finger across the table. It looked like ... it couldn’t be ... baking soda?

  Angus dove beneath the workbench looking for the bins. They were gone, or maybe they’d never existed. And then he glimpsed a piece of notebook paper poking out of a metal trash can. He yanked the lid off the can and dropped it to the concrete floor with a clatter. The can was too heavy to pick up, so Angus threw his weight against one side until he was able to knock it over. He reached inside and pulled out a well-used notebook labeled “Inventions I Can Create to Make Money $$$.” Countless wires, old circuit boards, nuts and nails, and broken bits of appliances tumbled out of the trash can.

  The kitchen door opened.

  “Angus, I heard a crash. Are you okay—” The mother stopped midsentence when she saw the garbage strewn across the floor. “Exactly what are you doing, young man?”

  Angus stared at the scowling woman in the cowboy hat. A speck of blue paint had dried on the tip of her nose. She held her meat-e
ncrusted hands in the air like she had just scrubbed for surgery. Clutching the notebook to his chest, he threw himself at her, nearly knocking her down.

  “Mom? Is it really you? It’s me, Mom! It’s Angus! I’m home!”

  Bewildered, she hugged him back while the cat looked on with gleaming amber eyes.

  2

  Memories

  Ivy sat on Angus’s bed and licked her right paw ten times. When she deemed it wet enough, she wiped it over her right ear and the side of her face. She licked her paw five times and wiped her face again. Two licks, wipe face. Two licks, wipe face. Two licks, wipe face. Then she repeated the ritual on her left ear and face. Her experiment quickly revealed that the combination of ten licks, five licks, two-two-two licks would remove the odor of the cat food from her face.

  When she was satisfied that her head was sufficiently lacking in scent, she stretched out her tongue and began to groom her neck. This move was a bit tricky, and she lost her balance and flopped over on to her back. Mrs. Clark had been dazzled by the crystals Angus had given her, though she didn’t realize they had originated in a parallel world. She had attached several of them to the cat’s collar. The extra weight around Ivy’s neck made it challenging for her to correctly calculate the true density of the cat body.

  Comfortable in her new position, belly full of food, and nested snuggly in the superhero comforter, she considered taking a nap. She yawned and shut one lazy eye while the other regarded Angus’s feet jutting from the closet.

  “That was a delicious meal,” said Ivy. “When’s the next one?”

  “Ivy, you ate cat food,” said Angus’s feet.

  “No, I didn’t. Did anyone ever tell you that you eat like a slob? You dropped an entire drumstick on the floor. Thanks, by the way.”

  “Don’t mention it. You’ll starve if all you eat is that diet food Mom feeds you. She’s been trying to help Sir Schnortle lose weight for years.”