Cats vs. Robots #2

by Margaret Stohl

  Mom looked at the flea software on the phone, a smaller version of the program she used in the lab, and magnified the COMMAND area. “I set up the new complex behaviors as plug-ins, so if I just disable them . . .” Mom stopped talking, concentrating, squinting at the tiny text, typing as fast as her Mom hands could, which, to Max and Min, was excruciatingly slow.

  “With high-level functions disabled, flea-bots should revert to original behaviors, as soon as they receive the command and reboot,” Dad explained.

  Mom looked up. “I think that’s it. Ready?”

  She handed the phone to Max. “This was your idea. You should do it.”

  Max thought for a second, then turned toward Min.

  “We’re a team now.” He held the phone out toward Min with one hand and crossed his fingers with his other hand.

  Min nodded, determined. She reached out tapped the green button sending the command.

  “Godspeed, Jerry,” Javi said.

  Huggs barked at the soldiers, who lifted the cases onto a table under bright laboratory lights. They stood back, forming a line between Huggs and Pants and the trapped leaders.

  Huggs flipped the latches on one case, and then the other. He opened both cases at the same time, eyes wide with wonder.

  He pulled on white anti-static gloves, and carefully lifted the first engine out of the case and set it on the observation table, pulling nearby hanging lights down so he could see every angle. The light penetrated the Infinity Engine, revealing the beautiful complexity of its pulsing tubes, wires, and conduits, all twisting and intersecting, leading toward a solid central core.

  “Why aren’t the fleas doing anything?” Min looked at Mom and Dad, concerned.

  Mom looked at the phone. “I’m not sure. Maybe they didn’t receive the command? Or they’re still rebooting?”

  “They’ve been in the dark a while. Maybe the light will help. Just give them a few seconds.”

  Huggs leaned over for a closer look, then turned and walked to a nearby computer. “I need to get the interface ready so we can see how this thing works.”

  Pants came closer, cautiously, to get a better look at the engine. The soldiers stood at attention, facing outward, surrounding the vice president and the engines.

  Max saw them first. “Look!” He pointed as a barely visible cloud of fleas appeared above the Infinity Engine on the table. “They’re awake!”

  Pants was so mesmerized by the engine that he didn’t notice the tiny robots leap up and out. They bounced in place for a moment, sensed the environment, and shot out in all directions.

  In moments, Pants and the soldiers felt the prickle of tiny legs landing on their necks, crawling under their sleeves, finding their way into every nook and cranny.

  “What the—” Pants exclaimed, but it was too late.

  The fleas were in place and began to bite.

  The first fleabite was a nuisance, but when hundreds of them nibbled at the same time, the effect was paralyzing.

  Soldiers twitched, and in moments, they dropped their guns and started scratching and slapping, anything to make the unbearable itching stop.

  Huggs looked up from his computer.

  “Fleas,” he muttered in horror, remembering the recordings. He jumped out of the chair, knocking it over as he scrambled to escape behind the lab.

  Under the lights, the soldiers had lost all control, squirming and writhing in discomfort. In the center, Pants twitched and grimaced, but remained standing. In a remarkable show of control, he slowly took step after step toward the nearest soldier, bent down, and picked up a gun.

  “Make. It. Stop,” Pants growled through gritted teeth. To their shock, they noticed Pants was smiling through it all.

  Portillo turned to Min, alarmed. “We’re not equipped for this. Min, I think we need to invite Elmer to the party before it’s too late, and just hope the upgrades work. Can you do it?”

  Min nodded silently and dropped down at the back of the cage out of sight. She pulled out her phone and quickly tapped in a set of instructions. She saw the message “waiting for response” flash on-screen. “Come on, come on,” she said, looking from her phone to the large doors.

  BZZZZZTTZZT!

  CRASH!

  A hot red line etched the shape of a circle on the door, and the metal blew inward, creating a hole in the heavy hangar door, the bright outside light pouring through. Pants looked over, trembling with overwhelming discomfort as the army of robo-fleas swarmed under his suit, crawling, hopping, and biting over and over.

  The light dimmed temporarily as Elmer twisted and contorted through the hole into the hangar.

  Pants grimaced and shook his head. “I never did much care for robots.”

  He looked down the sights of his gun and squeezed the trigger.

  “No!” Min shouted, but it was too late.

  Pants’s signature smile turned into something frightening as bullets flew toward Elmer.

  Calm as ever and prepared for a fight, Elmer quickly flipped up an arm that held a shielded metal plate.

  Bullets thudded and pinged into the shield, dropping harmless to the floor.

  Elmer’s other arm reached into an opening in his body and came out with a new attachment, a heavy cylinder wrapped in a coil of bright metal.

  The coil, powered by the Infinity Engine, began to spark as it powered up.

  Elmer slowly raised the arm and pointed it toward Pants.

  A high-pitched hum grew from the attachment on the arm as it began to spin so fast it became a blur of metal and sparks.

  Pants stopped, confused, when suddenly the gun flew out of his hands and slid toward Elmer.

  He looked around and saw with horror that all the guns were being drawn toward Elmer, skittering along the ground, attracted by the powerful electromagnetic pull of his arm.

  The soldiers, paralyzed by the fleas, could do nothing but grind their teeth and watch.

  Elmer pulled all the weapons, and a few nearby scientific instruments, toward him.

  He scanned the area and proceeded to drag everything into a nearby cage and slammed the door with the weapons inside.

  Elmer deftly attached a new tool to his arm, and before long, the door was welded shut.

  Stunned, Pants stood for a moment longer but was finally overwhelmed by the fleas.

  He dropped to his knees, overcome by the unbearable pestering of the fleas.

  He had no way to fight an army he couldn’t see, and no more weapons to threaten anyone else.

  “Yes!” Max and Min gave each other a high five. Min whispered into her phone and Elmer came over and within moments the door to their cage swung open.

  Portillo jumped out first. “Everyone!” Portillo barked at the soldiers and Pants and pointed at a nearby cage. “Get in. NOW!”

  The sad collection of previously powerful people crawled and squirmed their way into the cage.

  Elmer bounded over and quickly sealed it shut.

  Portillo inspected the cage, satisfied. “We’re good,” she said. “Min, would you like to do the honors and tell the fleas to stand down?”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Min said, eyes wide, feeling as proud as she ever had.

  Mom handed her the phone, and Min went into the flea control menus, quickly finding the settings to call back the fleas.

  “Ready,” Min said, looking up. Portillo gave a nod, and Min’s fingers started moving.

  A low hum rose from inside the cage, and a barely visible cloud of bouncing specks emerged.

  Before long, the fleas emerged from their victims and bounced their way back into the case with the Infinity Engine.

  Dad went over and carefully pulled the case shut. The caged soldiers moaned in relief. Pants stood perfectly still, glaring.

  Mom walked toward Portillo. “Our cell phones won’t work out here, but look what I found.” She held up a thick black phone. “Pants’s satellite phone,” she said, smiling. “I already made a call. President Quinn is on his way.”
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  37

  Can We All Get Along?

  Mom helped Dad put away the Infinity Engine, making sure both cases were sealed and secure.

  “Are you sure the fleas are all put away?” Max asked, cautiously checking around for stray fleas.

  “Hey, guys? We should probably get them out, right?” Min asked, gesturing toward a steaming SLAYAR.

  “Oooh, right,” Portillo said. She went toward the control panel Pants used to trap the leaders. “We just need to figure out how,” and searched for a way to release the captives.

  Javi was looking at the cage holding the soldiers and Pants with a concerned look. “Uh-oh,” they said.

  “What’s wrong?” Max said, looking over. Javi turned around. “Everybody, we have a problem. This party is missing one Very Important Prisoner.”

  Portillo looked over and her eyes grew wide. “Huggs!”

  A rumbling sound emerged from the dark back corner of the hangar, and headlights suddenly appeared.

  Behind them, the hangar doors lurched to life, pulling apart with a rattle.

  The bright desert light poured into the hangar, blinding and harsh.

  With a screech, a black car roared toward the doors, rear wheels spinning, burning rubber. “Watch out!” Mom shouted, and everybody jumped out of the way as the car screeched past. Inside, they saw the bald profile of Gifford Huggs as he raced out of the hangar.

  “How did he escape?” Min said.

  “He must have known about the fleas,” Portillo said, shaking her head. Dust kicked up by the escaping car bellowed into the hangar as the doors opened wider.

  “He can’t really get away, can he?” Max ran to the door, squinting to see.

  “Looks to me like he already did,” Pants said from his cage, looking disgusted.

  A low thumping outside grew louder as a helicopter came rushing over the horizon. It swerved and landed near the parked ships.

  “There he goes,” Min said as the black car slid to a stop and Huggs jumped out, glared back toward the hangar, and ran into the waiting GloboTech helicopter.

  As the door slid shut, the helicopter immediately raised up the air, tilted forward, and sped off the way it came, back toward the afternoon sun.

  “That’s disappointing,” Mom said to Dad from inside the hangar as the thwop thwop thwop of the helicopter slowly faded into the distance.

  Max stepped out into the sun, frustrated. “Well, I guess we can’t catch ’em all every time.” As he watched the helicopter shrink and disappear, he heard another noise from the opposite direction.

  “Huh?” He turned toward the hangar and looked up. “What is this, a helicopter party?”

  A second, deeper thwop thwop thwop grew louder.

  “Guys, someone else is coming!” Max ran back into the hangar. “What if it’s more soldiers?”

  Min and Portillo left the control panel, and they all gathered into the shadows behind the entrance to the hangar. Before long, they saw multiple helicopters pass over the hangar and land in the spot Huggs recently left.

  As the helicopter blades slowed, Javi crept to the open hangar door to peer outside, but the dust was too thick. “I can’t tell who it is,” Javi said. “Hold on, I see something.”

  Through the cloud, Javi saw a pair of dark-suited people wearing sunglasses, walking forward quickly but carefully, scanning the area.

  “It doesn’t look good,” Javi started, then stopped when a bright orange blur emerged from the dust.

  President Hardy Quinn’s signature curly hair bounced wildly in the blustering hot air, as he strode forward, oversized shoes stomping through the desert sand, looking uncharacteristically stern.

  By his side, and behind him, more Secret Service officers kept a tight circle around the president.

  “It’s Quinn!” Javi shouted, relieved.

  As the dust settled, Quinn paused to look up at the enormous ships from Binar and Felinus.

  A whistle rose.

  “Wowie,” he said loudly, looking between the two landing pads. “Super cool, right?”

  A presidential aide stood at Quinn’s side, taking photos with her phone. “Incredible, sir.” Quinn turned and the dark-suited group moved on toward the hangar. Quinn shook his head as he walked through the open doors and took in the scene.

  “Pants,” he muttered to himself, “you have some explaining to do.”

  Inside the hangar, Quinn slowed and stood still, taking in the scene, letting out another sharp, goofy whistle. “What in the name of Barnum is all this?”

  Mom, Dad, and Portillo stepped slowly out from the shadows. Mom cleared her throat, and the Secret Service officers whipped around, closing in front of Quinn. Annoyed, Quinn pushed through.

  “Relax, I believe these are the folks that called us here.” Quinn walked forward, adjusting a flower in his suit lapel.

  Mom, a little flustered to be standing in front of the president of the United States, gave an awkward curtsy.

  Max and Min both laughed behind her, and she looked back with a confused smile and shrugged.

  Quinn smiled and gave his fanciest bow in return, giving a sly wink to the twins.

  Delighted, they gave the president a polite round of applause.

  Dad and Javi looked at each other, puzzled, but joined in the applause. Something about a Clown president just made them happy, at least in the moment. . . .

  “Mr. President,” Mom began as the applause slowly died down, “thank you for coming so quickly. We should probably explain what’s going on here.”

  Quinn raised a bushy eyebrow and smirked. “Ya think? I see alien spaceships outside, my vice president in a cage, angry robots trapped on a stage, and cats on display behind glass.”

  He turned and spread his arms. “All in a secret base that I had no idea even existed. Not that I keep track of every secret base,” Quinn said, looking at Max and Min, the hint of a smile in his eyes.

  “So yes”—Quinn gestured toward Mom—“please help me understand.”

  Mom took a deep breath and began at the beginning, with the Singularity Chip, the Binars, and Felines.

  Quinn listened carefully, his aide recording and furiously scribbling notes. Dad gave Quinn details about the Infinity Engine, Javi explained the presence of SLAYAR and Meow, and Portillo filled in details about Huggs and his involvement behind the scenes.

  Quinn punctuated their descriptions with frequent enthusiastic whistles.

  Before long, the entire implausible story was laid out.

  Quinn, clearly overwhelmed by so much information, shook his head in disbelief. “I find it hard to believe that good ole Pants here would do such a thing.”

  He turned to walk to the cage where Pants stood silent, patiently waiting for his turn with a slightly pained expression of betrayal. Pants had completely recovered from the fleas, looking perfectly groomed and completely innocent.

  “Good instincts as usual, sir,” Pants said. “You know I would never do anything to harm you or this great nation.” He tried his Winning Smile™, but it was a bit crooked. “These fine people have good intentions, I’m sure, but they have their facts entirely wrong.”

  Portillo walked closer. “If I may, Mr. President,” she said, and pulled a button off her shirt, tapping it on her phone, transferring the contents of the concealed camera. “I recorded everything that happened here,” She unlocked her phone and opened a folder full of documents, images and other files.

  “I also have extensive documentation showing how Huggs and Pants worked together to orchestrate all of this, including Pants’s plan to replace you as president.” She handed the phone to Quinn, who immediately handed it to his aide, who began tapping and scrolling, fingers flying.

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t look good, boss.”

  Quinn kept his eyes on Pants the entire time. “I’m disappointed, P.P.” He stepped up to the cage, face-to-face with his vice president.

  Pants locked eyes with Quinn, holding his innocent,
pleading expression.

  “Sir,” Pants said. “This is all a fabrication. Lies. Fake . . .”

  Quinn held up a hand, stopping Pants. “Don’t say another word.”

  Quinn looked down to adjust the flower on his jacket, shaking his head. “I’m sorry I have to do this,” he said as a jet of water burst out of Quinn’s prank flower, thoroughly soaking Pants below his belt. “Sorry indeed, P.P. Pants.”

  Pants face grew red and for the first time he lost control of his perfect smile. He looked down at the water dripping down his legs, then slammed on the bars of the cage. “Do NOT call me PEE PEE PANTS!”

  Quinn turned and shrugged. “Pants,” he said, “you’re fired.”

  Max and Min led everybody in another round of spontaneous applause.

  “As for Huggs,” Quinn said, hands on his ample belly, “we will charge him with invasion of privacy, theft, tax fraud, treason, the works.”

  His aide was behind him, writing everything down. “Even if we don’t find him right away,” Quinn said, “we know where his money is.”

  He turned to his aide. “Get Treasury working on it immediately. Make sure the GloboTech fortune is wrapped up tight as a rabbit in a hat.”

  She nodded and started sending a message on her phone.

  “It’s time we put all the money Huggs has been hoarding to good use.” He looked at Portillo. “M.E. Portillo, if I’m not mistaken?”

  She looked up and walked over. “That’s me.”

  Quinn stroked his chin. “I’ve heard of you,” he said. “You’re the one who donated all that money to the smarty-pants college in California.”

  Portillo laughed. “Right again, Mr. President.”

  Quinn folded his hands behind his back, trying to appear presidential as he thought. “You seem like as good a choice as any to help take GloboTech’s work and turn it into something that serves the public rather than spies on it. What do you say?”

  Portillo nodded proudly. “With some help from my friends, we can turn around GloboTech as a nonprofit.” She put her hand on Javi’s shoulder and gave a wink to Min and Max. “It would be an honor, Mr. President.”