by Jon Scieszka
Frank doesn’t notice.
“I had the Space-Time Transporter set up out back in Grampa Al’s junkyard. And I forgot to tell him it was there. I powered the Space-Time Transporter up to test it. And I had to go back to my lab for a wrench. I left for just a second. And—”
Frank looks down at his empty plate.
Watson looks horrified. “Oh no! You killed Grampa Al?!”
“No no no. He just tried the Space-Time Transporter before it was ready. Or maybe it used too much power. Because I followed him. We both made it to Alpha Andromedae. But only I made it back.”
“Whew,” says Watson. “But also—that’s nuts!”
Janegoodall taps her fork on her plate, thinking. “Well, if you weren’t Frank Einstein, I would say this was completely crazy. But the answer to this is pretty clear. We have to get your invention up and running again to save Grampa Al.”
Frank smiles. He loves that he can always count on Janegoodall. “Exactly,” says Frank. “But we are going to need more brainpower.”
“Of course,” says Janegoodall. “And you have the absolute best helpers. Klink and Klank.”
Frank looks surprised. “Klink! And Klank!”
“Yeah, you remember them,” says Watson sarcastically. “Your robot pals. One small, one big. One smart, one—”
“Oh no!” Frank jumps to his feet. “I completely forgot about Klink and Klank! They are not going to be happy.”
Frank runs to his lab.
He gets that same sharp memory/feeling of having done all of this before.
He remembers the time he first walked into his lab and heard the electronic voice of a robot that was alive.
This time, he knows they are alive . . . but he hopes he is not too late.
Frank fumbles with a key in the bathroom doorknob.
“What in the world are you doing?” asks Janegoodall.
“It’s the only door that has a lock,” answers Frank. “I had to keep them safe in here.”
“Hmmmmmmm,” says Janegoodall, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.
“There!” Frank turns the key and swings open the door.
The big robot sitting on the toilet looks up from his comic book.
“Frank! Janegoodall! Watson! It is so good to see you.”
Klank holds up the book he was reading.
“Have you read this very amazing book? There is a big cat. He does not like to work. But he does love to eat. Mostly lasagna.”
The small robot, squeezed in the corner, crosses his arms in front of his Shop-Vac chest. And does not say anything.
“I am so sorry I had to lock you guys in here,” says Frank. “And then forgot about you last night.”
Klink’s single webcam eye stares at Frank.
“I didn’t want to take the chance of your electronics getting destroyed in space-time travel,” continues Frank. “But Grampa Al got sidetracked on the return. So we have to fix the transport invention to find him and bring him back. Come on in the lab. And let’s get started.”
Klank tucks his comic book under one flex-tube arm and squeezes his big trash-can body out of the teeny bathroom. “Gosh, this sounds exciting.”
“Great!” says Frank. “Come on, Klink. You can give Watson and Janegoodall the background they need on solar systems, stars and galaxies, and gravitational forces. Klank and I will start rebuilding the portal.”
Everyone heads for Frank’s laboratory.
Everyone except Klink.
Klink does not move.
Klink says, “No.”
“Huh?” says Watson.
“No,” repeats Klink. “This does not help me in any way. In fact, it may be dangerous to me. I will stay right here.”
“But we need you,” says Watson.
Klink keeps his arms folded. “Everyone did just fine without me for the last . . . oh, twenty-three point five hours.”
Janegoodall puts a hand on top of Klink’s glass-dome head. “But Klink, you are the smartest robot. Of course we need you. Please come and help us.”
Klink hums. He swivels his webcam eye back and forth.
“No. And, Klank, you might want to think about what always happens to you when you try to help.”
Klank stops, looks back.
“Like what?”
Klink flashes. “Like the first time we ran into T. Edison. And his Antimatter Squirt Gun blew you to bits.”
“Oooh yeah. That was bad.”
“Or the second time when you got chopped to bits by Edison’s Hydroelectric Turbine.
“Ouch. I forgot about that.”
“Or the third time when the BrainTurbo exploded your head.”
Klank unconsciously touches his colander head.
“I am not even going to remind you what happened with the EvoBlaster Belt.”
Klank remembers.
“Hey, yeah. This is not good for me.”
“Fine!” says Frank. “Be that way, Klink. We don’t need your help. We will fix the Space-Time Transporter without you.”
Klank is not so sure. “Can we?”
“Yes,” says Frank. He turns and stomps into the lab.
“But I do have one question.”
“Yes?” asks Watson.
“What is lasagna?”
T. Edison leans over the worktable in the center of Test Room No. 3 of ChimpEdison Laboratories, adjusting the settings on two medium-size titanium boxes.
Mr. Chimp sits at one of the side tables, reading and double-checking his equations.
Igor, the laboratory cat, curls in the one padded chair, sleeping.
“Ohhhhhh yes!” says T. Edison.
He sets the dial on Box 1 to OUTPUT.
He sets the dial on Box 2 to INPUT.
He pushes the small door flaps on the front of both boxes to make sure they swing free. He slides the top view ports smoothly back and forth.
“Observe . . . and prepare to be amazed, Mr. Chimp,” T. Edison brags. “I am about to change the universe. With my new T. Edison FasterThanTheSpeedOfLight Transport Device invention.”
Mr. Chimp looks up from his book and signs sarcastically:
T. Edison misses the sarcasm completely. “Why, thank you, Mr. Chimp. I thought it up all by myself.”
Mr. Chimp shakes his head.
“With this new invention, I will be able to move objects across space in a way that is way faster than rockets. It works by moving across space-time. First objects. And then—people. We will be able to explore our galaxy, other galaxies, the whole universe . . . without waiting millions of years!”
Now Mr. Chimp is interested. He hadn’t realized T. Edison was working on space-time travel, too. Mr. Chimp hops off his chair and takes a look.
“Watch . . . and learn.”
T. Edison slides the titanium boxes apart.
He positions the door flaps so they face each other.
He flips the ON switch. Hummmmmmm.
Igor wakes to the sound, lifts his head.
T. Edison takes an apple and places it, through the door flap, inside Box 1.
He pushes the SEND button.
A subsonic hum—like a whale call, or an elephant cry you can’t exactly hear but can feel in your bones—fills the room.
Igor sits up, alert now, ears back.
T. Edison turns OFF Box 1. He goes to Box 2. Reaches in. Pulls out . . . an apple stem.
“Ha! Eureka! Excelsior! Cowabunga!”
Mr. Chimp is surprised. T. Edison is actually onto something.
“Well, that worked pretty much perfectly. Now . . . for the real test!”
T. Edison walks over to the padded chair and picks up Igor.
Igor squirms and tries to hold on to the chair with his claws.
“Gooooood kitty. Niiiiiice kitty. Don’t worry. What could happen?”
Mr. Chimp shakes his head.
“What do you mean, no?”
Mr. Chimp holds up his book.
“Yeah yeah yeah. I know. Einstein,
relativity, space, time, and all that. But I can’t be bothered to read every little thing.”
T. Edison tries to push Igor into Box 1 through the Iris Aperture.
Igor spreads his legs and does everything he can to not fit in the box.
“Come on, kitty kitty,” T. Edison sweet-talks Igor.
Igor is not buying any of it. He sinks his back claws into T. Edison’s arm.
“Yowwwwwch!” T. Edison drops his fake-nice voice. “Get in there, you stupid cat. This is for science!”
T. Edison crams Igor in Box 1.
Yowling and sounds of smacking around come from inside the box.
T. Edison quickly flips the ON button, punches the SEND button.
HUMMMMMMMMMMMM elephant/whale hum.
Quiet.
Mr. Chimp looks at T. Edison.
“See, I told you it would work.”
T. Edison turns off Box 1.
“I am going to be sooo famous. And sooooo rich.”
T. Edison pats the top of Box 2. “Come on, my little Igor kitty. See, I told you there was nothing to worry about.”
T. Edison reaches inside. He feels around. He grabs.
He pulls out one very small tuft of Igor fur.
Mr. Chimp raises one eyebrow.
Mr. Chimp decides it’s time to fire up his own invention.
Frank Einstein leans over the worktable of his laboratory inside Grampa Al’s garage. He fiddles with his Space-Time Transporter invention, muttering to himself.
Janegoodall and Watson sit on the other side.
Frank accidentally snaps off a connector rod. “Ach! This thing is a mess!”
Janegoodall reattaches the piece. “Frank?”
“What.”
“Are you mad at Klink?”
Frank frowns. “No. Why should I be mad at Klink?”
“Ohh, maybe because he said he won’t help you . . . ? And because you are worried about Grampa Al . . . ? ”
“That is ridiculous. Who cares about Klink’s help? We can fix this and find Grampa Al ourselves.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” says Watson.
The sound of robot laughs comes from the other room.
“We don’t need that bossy pile of Klink parts. Grampa Al has all we need in his workshop. Come on. Let’s go.”
Frank Einstein stomps off to Grampa Al’s workshop.
Janegoodall and Watson follow.
Klank’s deep mechanical laugh echoes through the shop. “HA HA HA HA . . .”
“AH AH AH AH,” booms Klank. “Ah-Chooo!” Klank sits down. “I think I am allergic to toast.”
Klink bonks Klank on the head. “Do not be ridiculous. Robots cannot be allergic. We are better than that.”
“Okay,” says Klank. “AHHHHHHH-CHOO!”
Klink and Klank plug themselves into different outlets. They watch shark videos on the internet. They eat radio waves. They toast more bread.
“See? This is fun.”
Klank flips the bread over. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“No ‘guess so’ about it,” says Klink. “This is so much more fun without humans telling us what to do. We can look up anything. Do anything. Be anything.”
Klank holds up his toast. “But we do not even eat toast. I wish Watson was here. He loves toast.”
Klink’s head bulb flashes red. “Forget the stupid toast! We are taking today off. And we are going to do whatever we want.”
Klank jumps up. “Oh good!”
“That is more like it! You can do any fun robot thing you want. What do you want to do?”
Klank beams. “I want to take this toast to Watson.”
Klink says, “No.”
“And read my funny cat book to Janegoodall.”
Klink says, “No.”
“And give Frank Einstein a biiiiiiiiig hug.”
“Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,” Klink growls. “No. No. No.”
Klank sits back down. He reads another page of his Garfield book.
Klink entertains himself solving math problems with one hand and building a scale model of the Voyager 1 space probe with the other.
“Klink?”
“What?”
“Do you know what is Garfield’s favorite time?”
“No. Why would I know that?”
Klank waits. Klank smiles.
“Okay—what is Garfield’s favorite time?”
“Time to sleep. HA. HA. HA.”
Klink calculates.
“Why is that funny? Is it because time is part of space?”
“HA. HA. HA. No, I do not think so. I think he just loves to sleep. ‘Time to sleep’—get it?”
Klink’s brain circuits sizzle. He does not get it. “Grrrrrrr.”
BZZZZT! Klink’s new circuit breaker switches his brain loop off . . . and saves his head from blowing up.
Klank blowtorches another piece of bread. “Klink, are you mad at Frank?”
Klink squints his one eye. “No. Why should I be mad at Frank?”
“Ohh, maybe because you do not think he is sorry enough for forgetting us in the bathroom . . . ?” says Klank.
“That is ridiculous. I just think we can do more fun things on our own.”
Klank leafs through his Garfield book. “I am not so sure about that.”
Klink and Klank hear Frank, Watson, and Janegoodall running through the garage, heading for Grampa Al’s workshop.
“And it sounds like they are having fun.”
Klink scowls.
“We are having more fun. Plug yourself back into those shark videos. Now!”
Frank shuffles through the stack of books and papers on Grampa Al’s workbench.
“It must be here somewhere . . .”
Janegoodall picks up a small silver metal ball with four backswept antennas.
“Sputnik,” says Watson.
“Gesundheit.”
“No, that’s the name of the thing you are holding—Sputnik. The first human-made object in space,” says Watson. “Launched by the Russians in 1957. Orbited Earth for three months.”
“Who knew you were such a space rocket nerd?” marvels Janegoodall. “What’s that one?”
“The Hubble Space Telescope,” answers Watson. “Launched into orbit in 1990. Still operating. It takes the most amazing pictures because it’s outside of Earth’s atmosphere, so there’s no distortion.”
Frank leafs through Grampa Al’s notebooks. “ ‘Something . . . something about space-time fold . . .’ is the last thing he said.”
Ping . . . ping . . . ping . . . rings the model of the Mercury space capsule. Its bottom heat shield lights up red with each ring.
“I didn’t touch it!” says Janegoodall. “Is it getting ready to blast off? Blow up?!”
Frank picks up the pinging space capsule.
“Nah. Grampa Al just rewired the phone. Again.” Frank flips open the hatch door, holds the Mercury model up to his ear, and answers, “Al Einstein’s Fix It! repair shop. Don’t toss it. We’ll fix it.”
“Oh, hello sweetie. I was hoping we might catch you here,” comes a voice out of the Mercury capsule top.
“Oh, hi, Mom.”
“We tried your phone. But only got some very strange static.”
Frank scratches his head. “Yeah, I think something funny happened to it in the space-time continuum . . .”
“In the what?”
Frank looks panicked. “Oooh, I mean . . . I think Watson accidentally broke it trying to be funny.”
Watson frowns. Frank shrugs sorry.
“And we are uh . . . fixing it in Grampa’s space . . . this time . . .”
“Well, that’s nice. Your father and I just wanted to call and tell you we arrived safely in China. And that this is just one of the most amazing sites we have ever found for Travelallovertheplace.com.”
“The Great Wall?”
“No. The biggest radio telescope in the world! Five hundred meters wide. With a surface area as big as fifty football fields. And it
’s built into a natural bowl in the mountains out here.”
Watson grabs the Mercury phone. “Are you kidding? That is twice as big as any other radio telescope!”
“Oh, hello, Watson,” says Mom Einstein. “Yes, that’s exactly right. The official name of the telescope is FAST. For Five-hundred-meter Aperture Spherical radio Telescope. But I like the Chinese nickname for it—Tianyan. The Eye of Heaven.”
“Wow!”
A deeper voice comes out of the Mercury speaker.
“And ni-hao to you, too!” says Dad Einstein. “This baby is a beauty! And they have already detected radio signals from space as far away as one thousand light-years.”
Frank’s eyes light up.
“If there are any aliens out there in the universe, this thirty-ton dish is sure to hear their signal.”
Frank grabs the Mercury capsule phone back from Watson.
“Hi, Dad. What was that you just said?”
“If there are any aliens—”
“No, the thing before that about a thousand light-years.”
“Oh, yeah. That was one of the first signals the scientists here recorded. From one thousand light-years away.”
Frank scratches his head again, like he always does when he gets an idea.
“Hey, is Grampa around? Mom and I wanted to ask him a couple of radio telescope questions.”
Frank panics again. “Uhh yeah . . . I mean no . . . I mean he’s not here. I mean right now . . . he’s not here. He is . . . around . . . But ummm . . . not . . . right . . . here. Exactly now.”
“Whaaaaat?” says Dad Einstein.
Janegoodall rolls her eyes and shakes her head. She takes the Mercury phone away from Frank.
“Hello, Mr. Einstein. This is Frank’s friend Janegoodall.”
“Oh hi, Janegoodall. Nice to hear your voice again. How is your baseball season and your monkey research going?”
“Very well,” answers Janegoodall. “But at this very moment Frank and Watson and I are working on a very secret science project. Sorry we can’t tell you any more over this unprotected phone line. We will have your father, Albert, ring you later, if that’s OK.”
“Oh, great,” says Dad Einstein. “Well, good luck with your super-secret science project. Zai jian!”
