by Zac Harrison
“Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” John replied with the rest of the class.
“You have until eight o’clock this evening to finish your robots. At that time, all completed robots will be taken by the Examiners and placed in safe storage. All unfinished robots will be destroyed.”
There was an ominous pause.
“Begin!” declared Master Tronic, and stomped out of the room.
Immediately, a handful of students leaped up from their desks and charged over to the Junkyard, the technology storage room where useful bits and pieces were kept. They emerged soon afterwards, clutching armfuls of struts, springs, casings, and wire. In virtually no time at all, they had already begun welding them together with micro-laser tools.
John stared at them, a bit awed that they found this all so easy. He hadn’t even begun yet and was already starting to doubt his ability to win the competition. The other students all seemed to be certain of what they were looking for, and how they would build, mould, and weld in order to make a functioning robot. Where on Earth would he start? John looked around; the students who weren’t already welding had fired up their desk-coms and were beginning to design their robots carefully. Kaal was using a sensor interface to design what looked like a pair of wings. As he moved his hands gracefully, his desk-com traced the lines of movement, sculpting objects in 3-D.
John had no idea of what to do or where to start. But that’s what friends are for, he thought. He nudged Kaal with his elbow, hoping to ask him for help, but in doing so, he knocked Kaal’s steady hand. “Sorry!” John said quickly, but his best friend still turned and gave him a bit of a glare.
A little taken aback at Kaal’s reaction, John told himself off for interrupting his friend. He looked down and studied the screen on his own personal desk-com. It showed diagrams of different robot components and how they worked. Perhaps this was simpler that he had imagined. Could he just pick different components and then put them together?
“Maybe it’s just like getting a box of Lego for Christmas,” he said to himself.
But the more he looked, the more complicated it seemed. He’d never thought about how many different decisions you had to make in building a robot. For example, a robot could move about on wheels, treads, legs, or even float on a levitation field. It could see with camera eyes, or scan with sonar, or peer into the sub-etheric spectrum. It could have arms, or extensible tools, or a manipulation field like the Examiners had.
John shook his head in frustration. It was like the Pick ‘n’ Mix sweets at the local supermarket back on Earth; there were just too many choices!
John was already starting to feel anxious. He so wanted to prove himself in this competition! He glanced over to where Emmie was sitting. Her face was screwed up in concentration as she worked, determined to do her best. That made him feel a bit better. At least he wasn’t the only one finding it difficult. Unlike technology-whizz Kaal, Emmie struggled with most academic subjects.
Kaal must have seen the look on Emmie’s face, too, as he left his desk and went over to Emmie. “Don’t look at the bits and try to make something out of them,” he suggested to her. “Come up with a design first, then pick out the bits you need to make it.”
Emmie looked like a light bulb had suddenly switched on over her head. “Thanks, Kaal!”
“Of course,” John said, grinning. When you looked at it that way around, it seemed much easier. He scratched his head and focused his mind on a possible design.
Maybe a huge hand that could crawl about on its fingers and curl into a fist to bash things? But then he realized it would need an arm to do that, and an arm needed a shoulder, and so on. Well, he could always just do a human-shaped robot – but that was too obvious, and Mordant would laugh his tentacles off at John’s lack of imagination.
He needed to think outside the box, as his dad sometimes said. What about a huge spinning-top-like robot? No – that was too babyish. He might as well put flowers and bunny rabbits on it.
John doodled on his desk-com screen, wishing an idea would just jump into his head. All around him, students were busily working away. The student on his right was designing a robot like a rugby ball, which could hover on an air cushion and ricochet off the walls. The one on his left was designing a smooth, white android with a dark visor and blades at the end of its arms.
Now that was a cool robot. John wished he’d thought of it. The designs all seemed quite obvious once he’d seen others come up with them.
“How on Earth am I supposed to compete with this lot?” John muttered to himself. The other students had all grown up with working robots, reprogrammed robots, built robots of their own. They were as common as household pets everywhere except on primitive Earth, it seemed. The only robot he’d ever built had been made out of yoghurt pots and pipe cleaners, when he was six.
Master Tronic had said they were allowed to help each other. Now that Kaal had finished his design, maybe he should try to ask him again for help – or Emmie, perhaps. But the more he thought about it, the worse he felt. It wasn’t fair to distract his friends from their own robots, just because he didn’t have a clue.
Then a thought struck him. Had Master Tronic been looking at him when he said that? Did he expect the primitive Earthling to need help? No. I am going to do this myself, John decided. If the other students could design a robot, then so could he. He just needed an idea. He sat chewing his stylus and thinking hard.
Ms Skrinel came slithering down between the rows of desks. Her beady eyes were fixed on John. “May I ask why you are just ssssitting there, sssstaring into sssspace?” she demanded. Every “s” sent a spray of goo over his desk-com. “Everyone else is working hard! Sssshow me your design, please.”
“I haven’t actually come up with one yet,” he admitted, trying to keep his voice down.
“Then I ssssuggest you get on with it,” she told him frostily. “Although the contesssst is meant to be –” she made a disapproving face at the word – “fun, it sssstill countssss as part of your technology lessssons! Every student needs to make a robot, John Riley. The Examiners have punishments in sssstore for those who don’t!”
She slithered away. John took a tissue and carefully wiped the slime off his desk-com. “No pressure, then,” he grumbled to himself.
John refreshed the screen on his desk-com, determined to make a start. But first, he had another quick look round to see what the other students were doing. Maybe their ideas would spark something in his mind.
Lishtig ar Steero came out of the Junkyard, wheeling a huge bundle of purple nano-fibres, like fine phosphorescent hair, on a hover-trolley. Matching the colour of his own hair, the purple mass looked like he had sprouted a twin. He sat back down at his desk and began flinging clumps of fibre everywhere. It soon looked like a Lishtig bomb had gone off.
Kaal’s robotic wings were slowly taking shape. A chunky, holographic model of them now floated above his desk-com, moving in a simulated airflow.
Many students were still at the design stage, painstakingly assembling their robots on-screen before building anything, but more and more were now rummaging about in the Junkyard, coming out with strange, dangerous-looking gizmos and bits of salvaged electronics. Lishtig was welding fistfuls of purple hair on to his robot. Even Emmie was designing in earnest now, moulding some sort of shimmering plastic skin around a framework. The skin changed colours as John watched.
Come on, he thought, you have to think of something!
In desperation, John thought of childhood toys. He sketched a robot that would move by boinging on one huge spring foot. The computer ran a simulation for him, showing his robot ricocheting off the walls and ceiling, bashing itself to bits.
“Oh, yeah,” John said to himself. “That’s a winner, that is.”
He cleared the screen and started again. Maybe something that isn’t a huge robotic body part? he
thought.
* * *
By the time the bell sounded for lunch, he had discarded three more useless ideas. Steamroller X would have been good at squishing things, but it was obviously based on “primitive” Earth technology, and the likes of Mordant would have mocked him once they’d found out. Blobbo the Blobby, a robot made of absorbing Devouro-Gel, wasn’t technically a robot at all, as it had no mechanical parts and got auto-banned by the desk-com, at which point the Examiner had zoomed over and delivered a surprisingly stern warning about not using school property to engage in intergalactic weapons research. And the less said about Cornettron the ice-cream cone, the better. John felt depressed. Perhaps he really couldn’t make the grade at Hyperspace High after all. Certainly not if this morning’s efforts were anything to go by.
John joined the throng of students heading out into the corridor. With his hands thrust deep into his pockets, he scowled at them all. They all chatted excitedly about their stupid robots. He looked up to see Emmie’s golden head bobbing along in front, the huge form of Kaal beside her. Had they forgotten to wait for John? Were they embarrassed of their stupid Earthling friend today? John tried to shake the paranoid thought from his head, just as he heard two students behind him, deep in conversation.
“So, are you going with a plasmic power core, or a neutrino nexus?” John heard one say.
“Neither,” the other replied. “He has a separate power core in each limb. That way he can break into five parts and then come back together again!”
“Aargh! Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Maybe because your dad doesn’t own a robot design company?”
The two students strolled past John without giving him a second glance. John clenched his jaw.
“I’m not going to give up,” he told himself under his breath. “Who cares if I’m not a galactic genius like this lot? All sorts of brilliant inventors came from Earth!” He struggled to think of some as he walked. “There’s that Dyson guy... and Steve Jobs, and Alexander Graham Bell... and, erm, that man who invented Stevenson’s Rocket − what was his name again...”
John had planned to get some lunch, but when he saw the number of students heading towards the Centre, he changed his mind and walked towards his dorm instead. They’d all want to chat about their robots, and he’d had enough of that. What he needed now was some peace and quiet, so he could come up with some ideas of his own.
The TravelTube was cool, quiet, and empty. John leaned into a corner of the lift-like transport cubicle as it began to sink. He felt bone-weary already, and the day had barely begun.
A shimmering ball of light slowly rose through the TravelTube’s floor. It hovered in front of John and morphed itself into the shape of Lorem, the headmaster.
“It’s not like you to miss lunch,” Lorem said. His voice was kind, with an edge of concern.
“I’m not very hungry.”
“Is something bothering you, John Riley?”
John scuffed his foot into the floor, and he took a deep breath. “Yeah, to be honest, it is,” he said. “It’s the Robot Warriors’ contest. I don’t know where to start, what to make, I... I just feel really out of my depth, you know?”
Lorem frowned. “I see. I am afraid the blame lies with me, my young friend.”
“With you? I don’t get it.”
“It was my belief that an Earthling could flourish at Hyperspace High, even among more advanced races. I thought it was best to include everyone if I could, despite the differences in their backgrounds. Spread the message of our school far and wide! But we do have to face facts. Earth’s technology has a long way to go to catch up with the other planets, no matter how brilliant individual Earthlings may be.”
“I’ve done OK up to now, I guess,” John said carefully, not wanting to hurt Lorem’s feelings. “But this contest’s really tough. I’ve never done anything like it before.”
“I understand. I’m sorry, John Riley. The challenges we set are meant to encourage the students, not humiliate them. If this school is asking too much of you, then we should perhaps think of other options.”
“You think I should go back to Earth?” John said miserably.
“That is up to you,” Lorem said gently. “I just want you to know that you can. Nobody would think any less of you if you did, I assure you.”
John thought of Mordant Talliver sneering in triumph. But then, if he were back on Earth, he’d never have to see the half-Gargon bully again. So what would it matter?
“Think about it,” Lorem said.
Suddenly he was a twinkling ball of light again. The ball wafted up through the TravelTube ceiling, leaving John alone with his thoughts. Lorem’s out-of-the-blue suggestion had surprised and confused him. Was leaving Hyperspace High really the best thing to do?
Chapter 3
The door to John’s dorm room hummed open. He threw himself into a chair, which immediately billowed up to receive him.
“Hi there!” rang the disembodied voice of the ship’s computer system, which first John − and now the rest of the students − had taken to calling Zepp.
“Hi,” said John bleakly.
“I think I detect negative brainwaves. Is my favourite Earthling out of sorts today?”
“Hrmph,” John replied. He folded his arms on the table in front of him and sank his head onto them.
“OK,” the computer said, sounding serious now. “You aren’t acting like your usual self. Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
John raised his head and let out a long, slow sigh. “I’m stuffed!” he said, feeling helpless.
“Packed with sage and onion and served as part of a Christmas meal?” said Zepp in horror.
“No! Stuffed as in finished, defeated, game over! I can’t come up with an idea for a robot, let alone build one. And now Lorem thinks I should go home to Earth. He thinks he was wrong to keep me on Hyperspace High. He doesn’t think I’m up to it.”
Zepp made an electronic whistling noise. “I can understand why you’re upset. That must be hard for you.”
“Thanks,” said John.
“Though you shouldn’t be too tough on yourself,” Zepp said, instantly perking up again. “You’ve not even been here for a full term! Thirty-three days and four hours, to be precise. Most of the other students have made many, many robots before.”
“I suppose,” John said, still feeling unsure.
“But, listen. It’s actually not that difficult to design a robot, not with the software I’ve got installed. You don’t have to worry about all the fiddly electronic details. That’s for advanced classes; it’s a long way off yet. All you have to do is make a sketch or two using your desk-com and programme your demands for the robot’s capabilities into the computer. By choosing various options and picking your materials, it’ll do the rest!”
“But don’t we have to build the robots?”
“You have to assemble them. The computer makes the different parts out of the stuff that you find. You just provide the materials and the design, and put the pieces together.”
It’s like putting together a model kit, John thought. He felt some of the weight lift from his shoulders. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
The thought of assembling models reminded John of his bedroom back on Earth. He suddenly missed his parents. Maybe it was a good time to give them a call.
“Zepp, could you check to see if my mum’s online?”
“Yes, she is!” Zepp almost trilled. “Right now she’s looking at a discussion thread on MumsNet about someone called George Clooney, who apparently suffers from critical overheating. How fascinating! Do many humans become ‘super hot’?”
“Just make the call, please,” John said. He hastily bundled up all the Holo-comics, Derrilian snack boxes, and vid crystals that lay around the room. He couldn’t risk giving his mum the slightest clue that he wasn�
�t safely tucked away at boarding school in Derbyshire.
It wasn’t long before his mother’s surprised, delighted face appeared on the wall screen.
“John! How lovely to hear from you, darling! How have you been?”
“Pretty good,” John said and immediately felt a thousand times better. “Still finding my feet, you know. But it’s fun. I miss you and Dad, though.”
“We miss you too, dear!” She sighed and glanced around the room. “Your dad’s at work, of course. He won’t be back till six at the earliest. But I’m sure he’d send his love if he were here.”
John frowned. “Are you all right, Mum?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, John. It’s just... with you off at boarding school and your dad at work all day, I’m rattling around this big old empty house all on my own. It does get lonely, I have to admit. So I’ve been thinking about adding a new member to the family.”
John’s eyes widened. He was an only child and thought his parents were happy with it that way.
“A dog!” she said, apparently laughing at his expression. “You remember Mrs Weirzbowski from up the road? She works for a dog-rescue charity now, and she says there’s this one little Jack Russell who’d be perfect for our house. Your dad says he’d rather have one of those Weimaraners, goes on about how noble they look, but I couldn’t cope with something that big. I’d live in fear of it knocking my china hedgehogs off the shelf... So, what do you think?”
“Mum, that would be brilliant!” John said. He’d always wanted a dog.
“And you wouldn’t mind a Jack Russell? I always thought you’d want something huge and hairy, like your father.”
“Seriously, Mum, a Jack Russell would rock. I can’t wait to meet it.”
John thought that it was a shame he’d have to wait until the end of term to meet the dog. But then, as he said goodbye to his mum, an idea came to him. An awesome idea.
The more he thought about it, the more awesome it was. And best of all, nobody else on Hyperspace High could have thought of it. John allowed himself a little smile of relief. Perhaps he wasn’t a lost cause after all.
