Lots of Bots
Page 12
George sounded more confident than he felt. He’d been watching the news with everyone else during the last couple of weeks. Since the MOD debacle, TinkerTech had been shut down, and Professor Droid was under investigation by the police. It was all bad news for George—no TinkerTech meant no apprenticeship. Until everything blew over, George was stuck back in school.
Mrs. Glitch sighed. “I hope you’re right, George, but until then, I have to get rid of Hector. And I can’t bear to deactivate him. Could you look after him at the junkyard for me? I know he’ll be safe there.” She patted HP’s metal shoulder, her eyes watering once more. “Goodbye, Hector, my dear. Remember to install all of your updates, all right?”
“Glitch . . . Mrs. . . . goodbye,” HP stammered. George looked at him in surprise. The stress of their separation must have been causing the robot to talk backwards again!
Mrs. Glitch choked back a sob and hurried away.
“You’d better come in,” George said. He pulled HP inside, where all of George’s house-bots—who had taken to hiding in the house since the anti-robot movement began—studied him curiously. “My uncle will take you to the junkyard in his truck.”
“You . . . thank,” said HP. He stepped into the hall and carefully wiped his big flat metal feet on the mat.
Within no time, George was rattling down the road in Otto’s truck, with Jackbot and HP in the back seat. George had been going to the junkyard every day since finding out the truth about his parents and Project Mercury. He had spent nearly every waking minute down in their secret laboratory—or what was left of it—under the junkyard.
“So what are we supposed to do with this joker?” Otto asked, jerking his thumb at HP.
“Just keep him there until Mrs. Glitch is ready to take him back,” said George. “He won’t be any trouble.”
“Hear that?” Otto said over his shoulder to the robot. “You’re not gonna be any trouble, right?”
“Trouble any be not will I,” said HP.
Jackbot looked at him curiously. “Why are you talking backwards?”
“Wrong gone has program speech my,” said HP.
“Want me to fix it for you?” Jackbot asked.
“Point the what’s,” said HP.
As they drove along, George saw what had become of Terabyte Heights, and shook his head. The previously pristine sidewalks were piled high with stinking garbage, and all of the parks had become overgrown jungles. When TinkerTech closed, the municipal authority had deactivated all of the town robots, and now there was nobody to do their jobs. Robot-driven cars had been deactivated as well, and so the roads were clogged with human drivers who were seriously out of practice. As Otto’s truck neared the center of town, traffic continued to worsen until the sound of blaring horns was deafening. Just as Otto’s truck was about to cross an intersection, a car shot out in front of him, forcing him to slam on the brakes.
“Idiot!” shouted Otto, laying on the horn. “I never thought I’d say this,” he grumbled, “but I’d be glad to see robots back on the road again!”
“Everything will be back to normal soon,” George said. He realized he’d been saying that a lot lately. He hoped it was true.
“Hmm,” said Otto, gazing at something through the driver’s-side window. “I’m not so sure about that.” George craned to see what his uncle was looking at, but as the truck passed through the stoplight, he could see the frightening sight all too clearly himself. The tall, gleaming structure of TinkerTech Headquarters came into view; its once packed parking lot was empty, except for a few patrol cars. Black and yellow police tape crisscrossed the entrance, and two tall men in dark suits and sunglasses guarded it. But that wasn’t what Otto was looking at—TinkerTech had been a ghost town for a while now. The alarming thing was happening right in front of it.
At least a dozen people were marching outside the entrance, chanting, “Robots all must be destroyed! Jail for that Professor Droid!” and carrying signs that said things like TINKERTECH IS A TINKERWRECK!
George swallowed hard. “They look pretty upset, don’t they?” he murmured.
“I’ll say!” Otto agreed. The traffic ground to a halt at TinkerTech’s front door.
A woman with flyaway red hair and big round glasses marched by Otto’s truck, brandishing a sign that read ROBOTS? NO BOTS! She caught sight of Jackbot and HP in the back seat and shouted, “Hey—they’ve got robots in that truck!”
Within seconds, the demonstrators had surrounded them, banging on the sides of Otto’s truck.
“Give us those robots!” the woman demanded. “Don’t you realize they’re dangerous? They must be deactivated immediately!”
Otto rolled down the window. “Don’t worry,” he said, trying to sound calm. “I’m taking them to be scrapped at my junkyard.”
“That me told nobody,” said Hector.
“Shhh!” George said, putting a finger to his lips. “Worry don’t. I mean, don’t worry!”
“We’ll scrap them for you!” the woman said. “Won’t we, guys?”
The other marchers cheered, waving wrenches and hammers in the air. George peeked into the back of the truck. “How dare these people threaten us!” Jackbot said, indignant. “We are local celebrities! Heroes! Paragons of virtue!” HP, on the other hand, looked terrified. He had wrapped his skinny metal arms around Jackbot’s head, and was chanting, “Home like place no there’s! Home like place no there’s!” George looked back at the road. The vehicles had started to inch forward, but a line of protestors had planted themselves in front of the truck, barring the way.
“Okay,” George said, thinking fast. “We need another way out of here, Jackbot—now!”
“Right,” Jackbot said, extricating himself from HP’s grip. “Activating GPS system. Alternate route found. Otto, reverse seventy-three yards, take your first right, and then a left after two hundred and eleven yards.”
“Did you get that?” George asked, turning to his uncle.
“Got it!” Otto said, grinding the gears into reverse. The truck shot backwards, then left into a hidden driveway and out through a back alley.
George sighed with relief as the crowd of angry faces disappeared behind them. They sped out of the alleyway and found themselves on a small road that ran alongside the TinkerTech building.
“We did it!” George said. “We got away from those—”
The words died in his throat as a small army of soldiers ran onto the road from all sides. Once again the truck was surrounded. George’s stomach lurched. Guns pointed at them from every direction.
A huge man in a green flak jacket shouted at them from the driver’s side. “Stop! And put your hands up where I can see them!”
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About the Author
C. J. RICHARDS has loved tinkering with gadgets since he was a little boy. He remembers fondly the time he accidentally blew up his father’s radio after some experimental rewiring. Richards lives with his wife, cat, and eight televisions.
About the Illustrator
GORO FUJITA has been fascinated by drawing since childhood. He was born in Japan and moved with his family to Germany when he was three years old. He now lives in California, where he works as an illustrator and visual development artist on feature films and TV commercials.