Cats vs. Robots #2

by Margaret Stohl

  23

  Testing, Two

  After what she had seen happen to the kittens, Min was not happy. “This is so not cool,” she said. “I actually feel bad for those cats. That was so mean!”

  Max scoffed. “What’s the big deal, Min? Elmer’s just a robot, Stu and Scout are adorable, fluffy living creatures.” The scratches continued as he talked. “The cutest of all cute creatures.”

  Min glared back over her shoulder. “Max, I have spent way more time working on Elmer than you have taking care of those bug-nuggets.”

  Max stuck his tongue out but knew better than to argue the point.

  Min looked back at her parents, pleading one last time. She put on the saddest look she could think of. For the first time ever, she was jealous of Jane Ivory in her grade, who had a fake cry that could win an Oscar. Min could barely real-cry, so her face looked more like she really had to go to the bathroom.

  Mom and Dad looked back and sorry-shrugged. Again. “Fine,” Min said, giving up. She pulled her phone out and opened her Elmer app, sighed, and tapped.

  WHIRR, CLOMP.

  WHIRR, CLOMP.

  The sound from the lab grew louder, and Elmer emerged through the door. He walked slowly toward Min and sat down, stoic as ever. Min knelt down to make sure he was charged and ready to be tormented. “Be brave, Elmer,” she said.

  “UNKNOWN COMMAND,” Elmer said through his voice synthesizer.

  “I know, buddy,” Min whispered. She gave Elmer a pat on the head and stood up. She made a few adjustments on her phone. “I’m switching Elmer to autonomous mode.”

  Elmer would have no specific directions, just general guidelines. Avoid danger. Follow any instructions. Explore. Just be Elmer.

  “AUTONOMY ENGAGED.” Elmer slowly scanned the room looking for anything interesting. “THROUGH EXPERIENCE, I GAIN WISDOM,” he said.

  Elmer turned his head to watch Mom as she walked to the middle of the room with the second vial.

  WHIRRR, CLOMP.

  He took a step forward for a closer look. Mom set the vial down with a guilty glance toward Min.

  Inside the lab, the Protos noticed Elmer leave the room and gathered near the door to watch. Cy peeked out. “What’s going on?”

  “I can’t see anything,” Drags said. “Joan?”

  Joan was on her charger up high and had a good view. “They just finished some strange ritual with those terrible bugs, the FLEAS. The purpose is a mystery, but they released a group of them onto the four-leggers. On purpose!”

  Cy spun around, giving a Proto gasp.

  Joan launched in alarm. “Oh my, now it seems they are about to repeat the ritual with Elmer!”

  “The FLEES that got on me? And Elmer?” Cy trembled as the Protos watched with fascinated fear.

  In the living room, Mom removed the container’s lid and stepped back.

  WHIRR, CLOMP.

  WHIRR . . .

  Elmer stopped mid-step when he sensed a robo-flea bounce out of the vial.

  “ALERT.”

  Elmer immediately shifted positions, preparing to retreat.

  “NO ONE SAVES US BUT OURSELVES.”

  He switched to four-legged mode and crawled backward as quickly as he could to retreat into the lab, which was not very quick.

  “Hurry, Elmer,” Min whispered to herself, arms folded tight.

  More tiny specks hopped up and out of the vial. The fleas formed a shifting cloud that slowly spread out and probed the area. A searching flea bounced onto Elmer, then jumped back to the group to announce the discovery. The cloud started moving in Elmer’s direction.

  “BAD NEWS BUGS!” Elmer said, alarmed.

  WHIRR, CLOMP.

  Elmer clomped on but was too slow. He made it as far as the lab door. “Come on, Elmer, you can do it!” Drags and the Protos cheered him on, but the fleas were faster. One by one, they launched onto Elmer and crawled inside.

  BZZZTZZ. BZzz.

  Elmer’s speech module malfunctioned. He sat down, and his head and arms made small, random movements. His voice module still functioned, in a way, but he was making no sense.

  “I’M SORRY, DAVE. . . .”

  As his final act, Elmer sang a mournful, old-timey song.

  “DAISY, DAISY, GIVE ME YOUR ANSWER DOOOooo.”

  Elmer fell silent.

  “Elmer!” Min cried out, afraid to get too close to the fleas. “Call them off already! This is Robot cruelty!”

  Mom watched the test in amazement, but Min’s cry snapped her back into focus. “Yes, yes, sorry!” She quickly tapped her phone and looked up. The fleas snuck and crept out of Elmer’s dark cracks and secret spaces and bounded away. A stream of tiny bots quickly returned to the vial, ping-ponging their way inside.

  Mom replaced the lid and held up both containers to Dad, smiling. “We did it,” she said and smiled. “We did a really good job.”

  Dad looked behind Mom at the twins and grimaced. “Maybe not now,” he said, and gestured behind her.

  “Oh!” She set the vials down and turned back to Max and Min.

  Max had already scooped up Stu and Scout and was through the door to the downstairs before they could be pestered anymore.

  The door slammed shut behind him.

  Min sadly shook her head and carried Elmer back into the lab for a reboot and some diagnostics.

  “Sorry!” Mom yelled. “You both did great!”

  “They did great!” Dad added. “We did great too,” he said to Mom.

  Mom and Dad smiled and exchanged a rare parental high five, probably because neither twin was left to call them dorks.

  24

  Elmer’s Extreme Makeover

  The next few days, Min came home from camp and went straight to the lab to work on Elmer. It took a while, but she finally got Elmer back in working order. After a final round of tests, she lifted Elmer down from the worktable and switched him on.

  BZZT. ZZT.

  Elmer moved each limb, and his status light flashed green.

  “PEACE COMES FROM WITHIN.”

  “Good job, Elmer,” Min said.

  Min heard the door to the downstairs lab open behind her, but she didn’t look. She was still giving her mom and dad the silent treatment.

  “Hey, Min, sorry again about the fleas,” Mom said.

  Min turned, finally ready to speak to her mom (something snarky and mean), when she saw Portillo was with her and froze. “Oh! Hi! Yeah, well, anything for science, right?” Min blushed and turned away. “I don’t think there was any permanent damage,” she muttered.

  Dad came in carrying a heavy silver case and set it down near Min. He opened it, and a blue glow shone from inside the case. “Guess what?”

  “Chicken butt,” Min said, grumpy.

  “Guess what else?” Dad said, taking it in stride. “We just finished our first prototype of the Infinity Engine.”

  Min turned to look at the open box. Inside was a cube, lined with narrow copper tubes and complex circuitry, lit from within by a pulsing blue glow.

  “That actually looks amazing,” she said. She could never hold a grudge against something like that.

  “I agree. And,” Dad continued, “we’re ready to try it out. Before we make the final versions, we wanted to make sure everything was working. Do a little stress testing.”

  “Oh no,” Min said. “No more tests!”

  Portillo walked up to the prototype engine and looked at Min, sympathetic. “I get it. No robot testing, right?”

  Min nodded, and Portillo held out a fist. Min flushed red and pounded it.

  “I couldn’t agree more. In this case,” Portillo said, squatting down to look at the Infinity Engine, “we’re talking about something a little different. More like an upgrade, trying out a new power source.”

  Min tilted her head. “I’m listening.”

  Portillo chuckled. “The way I see it, giving Elmer the Infinity Engine isn’t like pouring annoying bugs on him that hurt. It’s closer to him getting
bitten by a radioactive spider, or being bombarded with mysterious galactic rays. Maybe a little scary, but the results will be amazing.”

  “He’s going to have superpowers?” Min perked up.

  “Compared to his current powers, most definitely.” Portillo nodded.

  Mom sat down next to Min. “I know Elmer’s been through a lot recently. Robot combat, then fleas. Then more fleas. Oh, and when the kittens peed on him.”

  “Huh?” Portillo said.

  “Long story,” Min said with a half smile.

  “Let’s give it a shot,” Mom said. “He’s earned it.”

  Portillo turned to take a closer look at Elmer. “So this is the man of the hour. Wow, this is nice work, did you really put this guy together?”

  Min turned bright red, felt a little dizzy at the compliment. “Well, most of it is open source, you know,” Min stuttered. “And the design I basically borrowed from NASA’s RoboSimian.”

  “Everyone borrows when they build, nothing wrong with that.” Portillo smiled. “The hard part is following through and putting it all together.” She took a closer look at Elmer and the attachments Min had made for the Battle of the Bots competition. “Nice upcycling.”

  Max heard the conversation and was hovering near the door listening in, curious. “Up-what now?” he said, walking closer.

  “Upcycling,” Min answered, sounding a little like Hermione Granger, “means creatively reusing old parts in new ways, making something useful and new out of something old.”

  “Right,” Dad said. “Instead of recycling, which is just turning something old back into what it was made from. Upcycling takes a creative eye and good engineering to make it work.” He gave Min a wink.

  “Huh, making cool stuff out of trash.” Max nodded, coming closer. “Okay, I approve.”

  Min rolled her eyes.

  Portillo examined Elmer’s joints and motors. “If we’re going to put the engine in Elmer, he’s going to need some modifications to take advantage of the added power.”

  Min crept closer. “I like the sound of that.”

  “I should be able to scrounge up a few high-end parts to give this bot a boost. Some high-speed motors we built for NASA would help with the arms and legs.” She tapped on Elmer’s chest, testing the metal. “He could use some lightweight, ultra-strong heat-shielding material we developed for our own rockets.”

  “Cooool,” Max said.

  “We should also upgrade the wiring and connections,” Portillo continued, looking inside Elmer. “The EMP hardened so the engine doesn’t fry the circuitry. I’ve got some friends I can call who should be able to get us some military-grade parts.”

  She reached over to the shelf and held up an arm attachment. “We should definitely put together some new toys for Elmer to play with. I have ideas for some new attachments that can take advantage of the increased energy. From a top secret job that I can’t talk about.” She smiled at Min. “I’d like to test out how far we can push the engine’s output.”

  “Like Iron Man kind of stuff?” Max said, getting excited. “Can we make him fly? Please?”

  “Not sure about flying,” she said, “but I’ve got a few ideas I think you’ll like.”

  “Yessssss.” Max pumped his fist, then pointed it at Min. “PEW PEW PEW!” Min glared at Max’s goofing, but she was excited to see Extreme Elmer.

  Mom put her arm around Min. “He’ll need some upgraded AI to help him manage his new equipment. Want to start looking into that?”

  Min’s head was spinning she was so excited. “Yes! I saw someone posted a robot simulator that used new machine learning algorithms and inverse kinematics. It watched thousands of hours of gymnastics routines and learned how to make up its own routine.”

  Min turned on her computer. “It was all done in a simulator since the AI needed more processing power and energy than you could fit in a robot, but maybe with the engine, Elmer could do it.”

  Mom and Dad moved to a computer and started opening schematics and designs. Portillo sat down and the three of them started working on how to integrate the engine into Elmer’s systems. The details were all over Min’s head, so she let them work.

  She turned toward Elmer, smiling.

  “Elmer buddy, you’re about to get the best makeover ever.”

  25

  SLAYAR Is Smooth-Talked

  The Binar flagship Heavy Metal screamed through space toward Earth. Literally. Screeching noises echoed throughout the ship as SLAYAR practiced his shredding skills.

  Beeps muted his audio inputs and worked nonstop creating strategies and defenses that covered every possible scenario with the Felines. A good portion of his time was spent on plans to prevent combat entirely, but he didn’t share those with SLAYAR.

  A rarely used light flashed on above Beeps’s workstation, and he switched his audio on. “Message from Earth?” he muttered, opening a channel.

  “Beeps here,” he said cautiously.

  “Sir Beeps-a-Lot, greetings and salutations. It’s nice to hear you so clearly,” House said. “You must be getting closer.”

  “How can I help you, House?” Beeps didn’t have time for small talk. Or any talk, for that matter.

  “Right to the point as usual, good. I need some time with your supreme leader, if you could,” House said casually.

  “You want to talk to SLAYAR? I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Beeps said.

  “Good idea or not, it is something of an imperative. The leader of the most powerful nation in the world wishes to speak with SLAYAR.” House was lying because it was Pants, the vice leader of the United States, but he doubted the Binars would know the difference.

  “Hmmm,” Beeps said. “I don’t know.”

  House went on. “He has a proposition to make that could greatly benefit the Binars in the coming conflict. I know you’re the real brains behind the operation, which is why I came to you for help.”

  Beeps considered the risks, and the work he had left. “If you think you can communicate with SLAYAR and can help Binar, then I won’t get in your way,” he said. “Good luck.”

  He contacted the Royal Guard that an urgent message was coming through for SLAYAR.

  The guard sighed. “I believe the supreme leader is practicing ‘Stairway to Heaven,’ but I will put you through.”

  In the Supreme Quarters, the Royal Guard alerted SLAYAR of the communication from Earth.

  He paused his practice, annoyed at the interruption. “Who is it?”

  “Supreme Leader,” Pants said, voice calm and confident. “It’s an honor to speak with you.”

  “Obviously. Now answer my question!” SLAYAR barked.

  “I am Parker Pants, the most powerful man on Earth,” Pants fibbed. “I have an important message for you.”

  “Bzzzt!” SLAYAR scoffed. “This had better be good. I was just getting into my groove.”

  “Ah yes,” Pants said. “I have heard of your talent as a musician.”

  “Oh?” SLAYAR said, surprised. “Tell me more.” He turned to his Royal Guard and whispered, “I like this guy.”

  “Oh yes, you must know you have a galactic reputation.” Pants was obviously smooth-talking, but SLAYAR wasn’t complaining.

  SLAYAR held up his guitar, triumphant. “You know it!” he said, and twanged out an ugly riff on his guitar.

  SCREEDDLEEELEEEEEEE!

  “Wow. So metal,” Pants said with as much pretend enthusiasm as he could muster. “SLAYAR, your skill far exceeds your reputation. Speaking of which, the first reason I wanted to talk to you was about your music.”

  “Hit me with it!” SLAYAR improvised another scorching(ly bad) riff.

  DWEEDLEEEEDEEEEEDEEEDEEEE!

  “I don’t know if you’d be interested, but I happen to be good friends with the drummer of a heavy metal band here on Earth.”

  “What band?” SLAYAR said, a little too loudly.

  “You probably wouldn’t know them, although they are well known on Earth.” P
ants was drawing out the reveal, having fun teasing SLAYAR. “They call themselves the HEDBANGRZ.”

  TWAAYAAANNNNG!

  SLAYAR lost control of his grasper, breaking a string. “Never heard of them,” he lied.

  “Well, I think you’re going to like them. They have a distinctive musical signature, quite like your own.”

  “OH YEAH!” SLAYAR blurted out, unable to contain himself, ripping another riff with the four strings remaining.

  BOOOWWWUUUAAANGGYAYAYAYAYANGGG!

  “You really think so?” SLAYAR was done pretending, instead in full-on fan-bot mode.

  “Oh yes. I think you and the HEDBANGRZ would really mesh. Musically. I even took the liberty of speaking with their manager, and they would love the chance to jam with you—if, that is, you could come down to Earth?”

  “JAM WITH THE HEDBANGRZ?!” SLAYAR shouted. The guards jumped.

  “If you come to Earth,” Pants added, “yes.”

  “Hmmm.” SLAYAR pretended to think about it. “That wasn’t the plan, but a good leader knows how to improvise, right?”

  “Exactly,” Pants cut in before SLAYAR could inflict another solo on him. “It would be my honor to host you. There is one four-legged complication we need to address.”

  “Ugh, freaking Felines, always ruining everything. I will NOT let them mess with my chance to JAM!”

  “Totally! I’m on your side,” Pants said. “I’m much more interested in Binar as an ally. I prefer sturdy and reliable over furry and unpredictable.”

  “Preach!” SLAYAR called out.

  “On Earth, the cats are a greedy, parasitic species. Always demanding to be fed or scratched, leaving their waste to be cleaned up by someone else, and never offering anything of value in return. Poor laborers. Lazy. Selfish.”

  “The WORST!” SLAYAR shouted his support.

  “The Felines are more of the same, just on a larger scale, as I see it,” Pants said, pouring it on thick. “The only logical solution is that they be neutralized.” Pants played all SLAYAR’s favorite hits. “They have no place in our galaxy.

  “BLOW THEM UP GOOD!” SLAYAR slipped in a couple notes.

  DWEEEEEEEUHEEUHEEE!

  “This brings me to my second reason for contacting you. As satisfying as it would be to blow them to bits,” Pants said, “I wanted to propose a more optimal approach; a path with fewer explosions, but that would be more, if I dare say, efficient.”