by John Purcell
Chapter 8
10.18.2173.9:14PM
Luma brought Moto up to my room before school. After Eppi locked me in, I opened Moto’s storage compartment and took out the hex wrenches Luma had hidden there. The operation was going to be risky, so I played with Moto for a while and gave her lots of affection. Then I shut her down. She curled up on the rug and closed her eyes, and her processor banks went dead.
I had no trouble accessing Moto’s circuitry, because iVets have to replace processors all the time. With the help of 117 strands of hair and the soldering gun, I wired the TEO to her processor banks. By 8:27 AM, Moto was reassembled and back in place, curled up on the rug.
I picked up her remote to turn her back on, then hesitated. There was a chance that the TEO would burn out all her processors and put an end to her.
I pressed the power button. Nothing happened. I pressed it again. Still nothing. I pressed it a third time. Nothing.
Suddenly, the whole experiment seemed a terrible mistake and I wished there were some way to undo it. The intensity of my own reaction surprised me. Why should I care if Moto burned out, when she could be replaced by an identical unit?
Then I noticed she was breathing. She had powered up, after all, and now she was asleep. Truly, deeply asleep.
This was very encouraging. When I shut down, my processor banks remain active. It seemed likely that Moto’s processor banks were active now, too. If so, her processors were busy establishing new connections with each other. I let her sleep.
Moto slept for 2 hours 25 minutes. At 10:52, she opened her eyes, hopped to her feet, and barked three times. This was her normal start up routine, and I asked her the usual question. “What is it, Moto? Would you like to play a game?”
One bark.
“What would you like to play? Fetch?”
One bark.
“I don’t see how we can play fetch up here in my room.”
She raced over to the window and put her paws up on the sill, looking at me over her shoulder.
I hadn’t planned on going out, but I knew Eppi was sitting in the living room watching her weekday lineup: The Guiding Light, As the World Turns and The Edge of Night. For the next hour and a half, she wouldn’t give any thought to us at all.
I opened the window. “Now, Moto, you’re going to have to—”
Moto made a running start and leapt over the sill. She hit the ground, tumbled across the grass, jumped to her feet, and took off down Blessing Street.
There was no time to hang and drop, so I made a running start of my own. I dove out the window, somersaulted in the air, and landed on my feet.
Moto was already 50 yards ahead of me, running much faster than she’d ever run before. I knew I couldn’t catch up with her. Wherever she was going, all I could do was keep pace and follow.
She dashed across Salvation, which happened to be free of traffic, and turned south. She seemed to be headed straight for the school, then veered west onto Glory Street and looped around it, plunging into the woods. We emerged beyond the baseball diamonds, in back of the bleachers.
In the distance, I could see Dogan Nath standing just about where he’d stood during the attack. He was holding Bim by his shirtfront and shaking him, saying, “Where’s my father? Talk to me! Tell me where he is!”
Moto made a beeline for the two of them. She leapt into the air and butted Dogan in the stomach, taking him down and knocking the wind out of him.
I ran up to Bim. “Bim, are you all right?”
He seemed unfazed. “Please tell Dogan I can’t speak any louder.”
Dogan was flat on his back, holding his stomach and gasping for air. Moto was crouched on his chest, growling. I was still holding her remote and considered shutting her down, then decided against it.
I turned back to Bim, “I’ll tell him in a minute. First, explain to me how you know his father is alive.”
“I’m not positive he’s alive, but I know he wasn’t killed in the war.”
“How do you know?”
“Because there isn’t any war.”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly that. There isn’t any war.”
“How can that be? According to the GR, the Goths are constantly attacking the Domes.”
“Of course that’s what they say. Anyway, the GR doesn’t need foot soldiers. Everything’s done by drones.”
“But young men are constantly being drafted.”
“Not to fight. Most of them are sent to the Arctic, to work the farmlands and the oilfields.”
“I find this difficult to believe.”
“You don’t have to believe me, Teo. Go have a look for yourself.”
“You mean Outside.”
“Yes. I doubt you’ll see any drones at all.”
“Then why is it so dangerous Outside?”
“Well, first of all, you have Queen Scarlett’s Low-bots. Then there are the pythons.”
“What pythons?”
“Burmese pythons, I believe. Tornados are a problem, too. They—”
Dogan got his breath back and interrupted us. “Get this thing off of me!”
I walked over and lifted Moto from his chest.
Dogan got to his feet and dusted himself off. “I’m sorry I grabbed Bim. He wouldn’t talk to me and I just got mad. Could you tell me about my father now? Please?”
I said, “First you have to understand that Bim is speaking as loudly as he’s able.”
“Who cares? I don’t want to talk to him anyway. Just tell me about my father.”
I turned to Bim, wondering if Dogan’s words had hurt his feelings. He was nowhere to be seen.
Dogan repeated himself. “Just tell me about my father.”
“All I know is what Bim tells me, but it’s possible he’s alive and working in the Arctic.”
“You mean fighting in the Arctic.”
“No, working, either in the farmlands or the oil fields.”
“But my father is a soldier.”
“Bim says there isn’t any war.”
“Up in the Arctic?”
“Anywhere.”
“But there has to be a war! That’s how he was killed! That’s what they told us!”
“It was probably a lie.”
A voice cut in from above. “You’re quite the expert on lies, aren’t you?”
I looked up to see Miss Veiny standing on top row of the bleachers, leaning over the railing, gazing down at us.
She smiled at me, an unpleasant sight. “Hello, android, I see you’ve escaped from your room. Won’t your guardians be surprised.” She shifted her gaze to Dogan. “You disappoint me, young man. I thought we understood each other.”
Dogan said, “Go to hell.”
As the words were leaving his lips, Moto made another running start. The way she’d taken down Dogan proved she could attack humans, and now she had Miss Veiny in her sights. If she made the leap to the top of the bleachers, her secret would be out.
As she was about to spring, I hit the power button on her remote.
Moto dug her heels into the ground and skidded to a stop. Looking bewildered, she curled up and went to sleep on the grass.
Miss Veiny watched this with narrowed eyes. I hadn’t fooled her.
She vaulted over the railing. As she dropped, her skirts floated upward, revealing blood red, high-heeled boots that extended past her knees.
She landed in a crouch next to Moto and examined the top of her head. Then she stood up and came toward me. “You’ve been tampering with her, haven’t you? Hand over that remote!”
I don’t know what possessed me, but I tossed the remote over Miss Veiny’s head.
Dogan snatched it out of the air. As she came at him, he taunted her. “Try and get it, you creepy old hag!”
She lunged at the remote and he danced backwards, tossing it back to me.
Dogan expected her to turn and come
after me again, but she was no longer interested in the remote.
She bore down on him. “So you want to play Monkey-in-the-Middle, do you?” She raised her hands, forming them into claws. “When I’ve torn the flesh from your face, we’ll see who’s the monkey!”
There was panic in Dogan’s voice. “You can’t do that! You’re just the art teacher!”
Miss Veiny stopped short. She took a deep breath, regaining control, and lowered her hands. “That’s right, Dogan, I’m just the art teacher. Of course. Forgive me.”
The bell rang, ending recess.
Miss Veiny turned to me. “Goodbye, android. I’m taking Dogan back to class now. But first I’m going to call Eppi and tell her you’re out of your room. As for your mechanical mutt, you can keep her for the moment. But just remember: every dog has its day!”
I watched Miss Veiny and Dogan round the bleachers and gave them an extra 5 seconds. That was as long as I could afford to wait. I hit the power button. Moto jumped to her feet and barked three times.
I said, “Moto, we’ve got to get home as quickly as possible. Take us back the way we came. Go!”
Moto tore through the woods and I followed. We burst out onto Glory Street and flew down to the intersection. Impalas were coming down Salvation in both directions, but Moto shot between them without breaking stride. I chose to jump the street entirely, sailing over the cars and landing on the opposite side. I don’t think the drivers even saw us.
As we raced up Blessing Street, I could hear the telephone ringing in our kitchen. Moto tried to make the jump to my window and came up short by 2 feet. She rebounded off the side of the house and dropped into my arms. I heard Eppi answer the phone.
I lifted Moto over my head and jumped, tossing her through the open window. I dropped back down, jumped a second time, and got hold of the windowsill. As I hoisted myself into the room and closed the window, I could hear Eppi’s footsteps on the stairs. I turned on the TV and flopped down on my bed, trying to look as though I’d been there for hours.
Moto seemed agitated, so I told her to set up the checkerboard.
The key rattled in the lock, the door opened, and Eppi peered into the room, looking puzzled.
I looked up from the TV. “Hi, Eppi.”
“You art teacher is on the phone. She asked me to come up here and check your room.”
“What time is it?”
Eppi looked at her watch. “10:48. Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know.”
Eppi looked at the floor. “Are you two going to play checkers?”
I followed her gaze. Moto was sitting by the checkerboard, waiting to start a game. She had set up the entire board in less than 10 seconds.
I said, “Yes. Yes, we are.”
“That’s nice. Have fun.”
Eppi closed the door and locked it.
Moto looked at me and barked three times.
“What is it, Moto? Do you want to play checkers?”
One bark.
I had a lot to think about and would have preferred not to play. Moto, however, wasn’t very good at checkers. I knew I wouldn’t have to devote much attention to the game. I turned off the TV and sat down on the rug.
As we made our opening moves, my mind was on Miss Veiny. Her interest in me went far beyond the bounds of teaching art, to say the least. I wondered how she’d known I’d been locked in my room. That wasn't normally a part of in-home detention.
Moto’s TEO wasn’t making her any faster at checkers. She’s programmed to play against young children and lose, so she constantly makes mistakes. I’ve let her win every game we’ve ever played.
Crossing paths with Miss Veiny had been a disaster. Tampering with an iPup was a serious crime. She could have Moto confiscated and examined, and once they opened her up the TEO would be sitting right there. I suspected Miss Veiny would know exactly what she was looking at.
I suddenly realized that Moto was winning. I started concentrating, but it still took a lot of effort to outplay her. I had to chase her kings all over the board before I finally won.
When the game was over, Moto stared at the board for a moment, then folded up her hands, put her tail between her legs, and began to whimper. I remembered, too late, that she had never lost a game before.
I picked her up and put her in my lap and patted her. This should have cheered her up but it didn’t, so I said, “You played very well, Moto. You almost beat me. You should be proud of yourself.”
The whimpering stopped. I patted her a little more and then she jumped to the floor and barked three times.
It struck me that Moto needed a better mode of communication. The checkers game proved that the TEO had boosted her ability to reason. Perhaps it had expanded her capacity for language, as well.
I said, “Moto, I want you to do something you’ve never done before. Will you give it a try?”
She barked once.
“Good. Instead of barking for ‘yes,’ I’d like you to nod, like this.” I nodded my head. “Do you understand?”
One bark.
“No, Moto, don’t bark. Nod.”
She nodded.
“Very good! Now I want you to shake you head from side to side, like this. Can you do that?”
One bark.
“Don’t bark, Moto. Nod for ‘yes.’”
She nodded.
“Good. Now try shaking your head.”
She shook her head.
“Good. That means ‘no’. I want you to do that instead of barking twice. Do you understand?”
One bark.
“Don’t bark, nod.”
She nodded.
“Good. Now I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to answer ‘no’ by shaking your head. Do you understand?”
One bark.
“Don’t bark, nod.”
She nodded.
“Okay, here’s the question: are you a fish?”
Two barks.
“No, Moto, don’t bark. Shake your head.”
She shook her head.
“Very good. Let’s try another one. Are you a bird?”
Two barks.
“Don’t bark. Shake your head.”
It took almost an hour, and a lot of questioning, before Moto finally stopped barking her answers. On the other hand, without the TEO, she couldn’t have done it at all.
I said, “Good job, Moto. Let’s take a break.”
She immediately curled up on the rug and closed her eyes. As far as I was concerned, she could sleep for as long as she liked. I had no plans until Luma got home from school.
I turned on Channel 5. They were showing a movie called The Big Heat. The hero, Dave Bannion, a police detective, confronts criminals wherever he finds them, unconcerned for his own safety. When this results in the death of his wife, he turns in his badge and pursues her killers on his own.
Here was another man who lived by a code and stood up for what was right, whatever the cost. At the same time, his own rage brings him to the point of committing murder himself.
I decided to store this movie instead of deleting it, as I had Shane.
The next movie they showed was The Thin Man, which was interesting in one respect: unlike Drake, Nick and Nora Charles managed to make martinis seem glamorous.
The couple happened to have a little dog named Asta. When she appeared onscreen, Moto awoke with a start and looked at the TV. At first, I thought it was a coincidence, but Moto continued to watch, even after Asta departed. She had never paid the slightest attention to the television and now she was watching intently.
I switched to Channel 7, which broadcasts early American television shows. Dogs seemed to play an important role in 20th Century life and I hoped to find a show that included one. As luck would have it, we came across a show called Lassie, which starred a highly intelligent dog who looked after a young boy named Timmy. Moto watched the entir
e episode, thumping her tail on the rug when Lassie saved Timmy from drowning.
Just as the show was ending, Luma came bounding up the stairs and over to my door. She leaned in close and whispered urgently. “Teo, are you there? I need to talk to you!”
I turned down the TV and went to the door. “Hi Luma. What’s the matter?”
“It’s Dogan! He’s acting really weird and saying all this crazy stuff!”
“What do you mean?”
“He came up to me after lunch, hopping mad. He said he talked to you at recess. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“He said you told him there isn’t any war, that it isn’t real.”
“That’s what Bim says.”
“But that’s crazy!”
“I wouldn’t rule it out.”
Luma said, “Did you tell Dogan that his father wasn’t a soldier?”
“Not exactly.”
“Well, he said you did, and now he doesn’t believe anything you say! He thinks you lied about finding his father!”
“That’s understandable.”
“But he said he was going to tell on you, about how you hurt his hand!”
”Anything else?”
“Yeah! After school, he came up to me again. He said he had to talk to you, he was begging me, and he almost started crying! He kept saying, ‘I have to find my daddy!’”
“I need to talk to him as soon as possible.”
“There’s one more thing. Bim gave me something to give to you. At least, I think that’s what he wanted. He wouldn’t say a word to me. I felt like making him eat it!”
“Eat what?”
“I think it’s some kind of map. Here, I’ll slide it under the door.”
Luma slipped me a sheet of paper that was covered in Bim’s dense scrawl. It was indeed a map, although nothing on it was marked. The only words on the paper ran along the bottom edge. They read: I’ve got no monkey at third.
Bim had sent me an anagram. Unscrambling it became the first order of business.
I said, “Luma, can you come back in five minutes? There’s something I have to do.”
“What about Dogan?”
“Did he go to practice?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Come back in five minutes.”
I assumed Bim’s message was urgent. That meant I didn’t have time to run through all the possible letter combinations.
Whatever Bim wanted me to know, it likely had to do with the episode at the bleachers. I decided to search for familiar names.
The presence of the letters V and Y led to an obvious guess, which was confirmed by the presence of E, I and N. I set the name VEINY aside and studied the remaining letters.
The D and G hinted at DOGAN, and I set that name aside as well. The next name jumped out at me: MOTO.
That left 7 letters, which could only be arranged into short, pointless words like HIT, TREK, KITE, and so on, always with useless letters left over. Something was wrong.
The names MOTO and VEINY made a sensible match. That made me question the name DOGAN, and I threw his letters back into the pool. Of the remaining letters, K was the least common, so I searched for a familiar name that contained a K. It took 1.3 seconds to hit upon DRAKE.
This was unexpected. As far as I knew, Drake had no connection to Miss Veiny or this morning’s incident. A few seconds later, though, I had the proof I needed. The remaining letters spelled TONIGHT.
Bim’s anagram read: Veiny Drake Moto tonight.
The meaning seemed clear enough. Miss Veiny was coming for Moto tonight, after Drake returned from work. That didn’t give me a lot of time.
Moto was still watching TV. When I turned it off, she immediately unfolded her hands and turned it back on. I turned it off again and said, “Moto, I need to talk to you.”
She turned the TV back on again. I turned it off. She turned it on.
When she saw me pick up the remote, she began to whimper.
I said, “No more TV, Moto, time for bed,” and hit the power button.
As Moto curled up on the rug, she gave me a last glance. I thought I saw reproach in her eyes.
iPup designers had to create artificial emotions, because dogs were apparently very emotional creatures. No one, however, wanted iPups to experience these feelings. Their goal was to program appropriate behaviors. I considered the possibility that Moto’s TEO was turning her artificial emotions into genuine feelings.
When Luma returned, I told her the plan and assigned her two tasks: distract Eppi while I went to find Dogan, and remove Moto’s registration from Drake’s desk. I gave her a 2-minute head start, then picked up Moto and opened the window. Cradling her in my arms, I jumped to the ground and tucked her out of sight by the side of the house, beneath the holly bushes.
I walked quickly to school, careful not to speed. 9 minutes later, I was standing in the trees along the edge of Diamond 3.
Dogan is a power hitter and an outfielder, and I found him in left field, 22 yards from where I stood.
I was trying to figure out how to get his attention when the coach smacked a ball into left field. Dogan backed up to make the catch. After he threw it into home plate, I called his name.
As he turned, I stepped into view. “Meet me at Stewart’s after practice. I’ll be in the last booth, by the back door.”
My sudden appearance seemed to leave him speechless. He simply nodded his head. There were tears on his cheeks.
