Selby Scrambled

by Duncan Ball

  ‘That’s amazing!’ Mrs Trifle gasped. ‘He just learnt our names.’

  ‘Frank has a special chip in him that lets him learn,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Speak a little faster, Frank.’

  ‘HowfastItalkyouisthisokay?’

  ‘No, slow down a bit.’

  ‘Me say you: how fast I talk you. Is this okay?’

  ‘That’s a good speed but you have to learn to speak properly,’ Dr Trifle said, grabbing a book from the bookshelf called English Grammar. ‘Here, read this.’

  Frank took the book and fanned through the pages so fast that Selby could feel the breeze.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Selby wondered.

  ‘What did he just do?’ Mrs Trifle asked.

  ‘He just read the book,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Here, Frank, now read this dictionary, please.’

  The robot fanned the pages of a huge dictionary then handed it back.

  ‘He can’t have read the whole thing,’ Mrs Trifle said.

  ‘Yes, Madam, you can be assured that I did,’ Frank said. ‘Test me on my knowledge if you care to do so. How about the word grampus?’

  ‘Did he say grandpa?’ Selby thought. ‘Everyone knows what grandpa means.’

  ‘Grampus’ Frank said. ‘A member of the dolphin family found mostly in the northern seas such as —’

  ‘That’s enough, Frank,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Get a chair for Mrs Trifle.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Frank started towards a chair but Dr Trifle’s leg shot out, sending the robot crashing to the ground and narrowly missing Selby.

  ‘What in heaven’s name did you do that for?’ Mrs Trifle asked, helping the robot to his feet. ‘That was cruel!’

  ‘No, it wasn’t,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Frank, I said, get a chair for Mrs Trifle.’

  Once again, the robot walked towards the chair and once again, Dr Trifle’s leg shot out but this time the robot walked around it.

  ‘You see? He can learn from experience. Now he will always be aware of someone trying to trip him,’ Dr Trifle explained. ‘If Frank had a mind like us he’d soon forget and you could trip him again and again. That’s the wonderful thing about him — he’s not a person. You can’t hurt his feelings, because he doesn’t have feelings. And he’s a perfect servant because he does as he’s told and he won’t get cranky when we order him around.’

  ‘Are you sure you didn’t damage him when you tripped him?’

  ‘Goodness, no. He’s as tough as old boots. In time he’ll learn to do everything — well, everything except swim,’ Dr Trifle laughed. ‘He’s a bit too heavy for that.’

  ‘I think I like this robot,’ Selby thought. ‘He can’t swim either — just like me.’

  ‘You are a very clever man, dear,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘But right now I really must make dinner.’

  ‘Why don’t you just relax and take it easy? Frank, make dinner.’

  ‘I would be pleased to,’ the robot said, ‘but I’m afraid that it would be metempirical.’

  ‘Metem — what?’ Selby thought.

  ‘Metem — what?’ Dr Trifle asked.

  ‘Metempirical. Outside my experience. I’ve never made dinner before.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Dr Trifle said with a laugh. ‘First of all, Frank, please use smaller words when you talk to us. And, secondly, there are cookery books in the kitchen. Just find some recipes and follow the instructions.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘This guy is amazing!’ Selby thought, as Dr and Mrs Trifle relaxed in front of the television while Frank worked in the kitchen. ‘He’s just read every cookery book on that shelf! Look! He’s heating up a frying pan. I wonder what he’s going to put in it.’

  Frank suddenly turned and came straight for Selby, picking him up in his robot arms.

  ‘Hey! Let me go!’ Selby thought. ‘What’s this guy doing? I can’t get loose!’

  Selby let out a howl and then started barking as loudly as he could.

  ‘Frank!’ Mrs Trifle screamed. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I was going to make a hot dog,’ Frank said.

  ‘A hotdog isn’t a hot dog,’ Mrs Trifle explained, taking Selby out of the robot’s arms. ‘It’s a kind of sausage. And we don’t have any so make something else.’

  ‘Do you have a fish with hands then? If you do then I could make fish fingers.’

  ‘Frank, fish fingers aren’t fish fingers, they’re just pieces of fish that are long and thin like fingers. Make something else, please, and don’t interrupt us again.’

  ‘That guy almost killed me!’ Selby thought. ‘It’s a good thing the Trifles were here. But hang on, if they were away I could have told him not to cook me. In fact, when the Trifles are out of the house, I can boss Frank around. I think I like this guy again.’

  Selby could hardly keep from laughing when dinner was finally served.

  ‘Frank,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘What is this frozen stew?’

  ‘That’s chilly, Madam.’

  ‘Chilli is supposed to be hot, not chilly. And what about the salad? It tasted okay but what were those dirty socks and underwear doing in it? That’s not how you dress a salad, Frank. And, as for the dessert, sponge cake is not made from sponges.’

  ‘I’m terribly, terribly sorry, Madam,’ Frank said. ‘But don’t worry, I’ve got a mud cake in the oven.’

  ‘Mud cake?’ Mrs Trifle said, sniffing the air. ‘Oh, yuck! Don’t even tell me! Oh, Frank, you have a lot to learn about cooking.’

  But Frank did learn — and learn and learn.

  Soon he’d read every book in the house, including all thirty volumes of the encyclopedia, and was downloading information from the internet directly into his memory. His cooking got to be fantastic and he learnt to cut the grass, take telephone messages and clean the house.

  ‘This guy is great,’ Selby thought. ‘I could tell the Trifles my secret now and they wouldn’t put me to work. Frank is already doing all those boring things that I was afraid they’d make me do. But what if other people found out about me? There would be TV camera crews around the house all the time and people trying to dognap me. My life would be ruined forever. No, I’d better not tell them.’

  And when Frank wasn’t reading books or on the internet he was asking the Trifles questions.

  ‘Why didn’t you use a titanium-zircon-based alloy when you constructed me? It would have made me much more heat-and weather-resistant.’

  ‘To tell the truth, Frank, I didn’t think of it,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Besides, that old bucket and breadbox were just sitting here doing nothing.’

  ‘Bucket and breadbox,’ Frank said. ‘Yes, I see.’

  Or he’d ask Mrs Trifle, ‘Why do your council workers always ask you what to do?’

  ‘Well, someone has to tell them.’

  ‘Why don’t you put Melanie Mildew in charge of the road and garden workers and have Camilla run both the Council library and the school library? I could run all the meetings for you. I just read The Master Guide to Corporate Council Meeting Strategies. And I just did a Town Administration degree on the internet.’

  ‘You amaze me, Frank,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘You are the most useful invention that my husband ever invented.’

  On Friday morning Dr and Mrs Trifle got out of bed and, as usual, a beautiful breakfast was on the table.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Frank said, ‘but I baked some little pastries for you. I also had some fresh fruit delivered. I put it on your credit card.’

  ‘Frank, this is marvellous!’ Dr Trifle said.

  ‘Oh, and there’s no reason to go to work today, Mrs Trifle.’

  ‘No reason? But I’m the mayor.’

  ‘Indeed, Madam, but I rang and organised things. I said that I was your personal assistant. The road crews will be fixing potholes near Mount Gumboot, the parks and gardens people will be pulling out lantana plants along Bogusville Creek, I’ve sacked three rubbish removal workers and told the other three to work twice as hard. Also the tr
affic wardens will be very busy today giving out parking tickets.’

  ‘Parking tickets? What for?’

  ‘I had parking meters put in all over Bogusville yesterday. This is the chance for Bogusville to make lots of money and catch up to Poshfield.’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose …’

  ‘And, as for you, Dr Trifle, I’ve finished your new invention. I made some improvements but I think you’re still going to have problems with it. Why don’t you both go away for the weekend? I’ll look after the house and feed Selby.’

  Dr and Mrs Trifle looked at each other.

  ‘I guess that would be okay,’ Mrs Trifle said.

  ‘Well, there’s nothing for us to do here,’ Dr Trifle said.

  ‘Oh, goody goody,’ Selby thought. ‘I’m about to have my own personal servant at last! This is great!’

  And everything started off okay. Selby had Frank running around, cooking plates and plates of peanut prawns, and even giving him back rubs.

  ‘Gently now, Frank,’ Selby said. ‘Remember, those are grabbers on your arms, not fingers.’

  ‘Yes, Selby,’ Frank said. ‘By the way, about Valley of Dead Souls’

  ‘You read it?’

  ‘I read all five books. It only took three and a half seconds. There’s no way Dogboy could have killed the Gork king and found the Golden Glasses by decoding The Chant of the Elves.’

  ‘Oh, great! Now you’ve spoiled the story for me.’

  ‘Don’t waste your time,’ Frank said. ‘Anyway, Dogboy dies in the end.’

  ‘Frank! Why did you have to tell me that? How do you think that makes me feel?’

  ‘I don’t know because I don’t have feelings myself. I don’t have a human mind. All I can do is store information.’

  ‘Well, don’t worry about it,’ Selby said. ‘What you don’t have, you’ll never miss.’

  Frank stopped rubbing Selby’s back and then started again.

  ‘Excuse me, Selby, but could you answer a question for me?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘You are a dog, are you not?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘But you have a human mind and you know how to speak English and —’

  ‘Whoa, Frank! Steady on. Okay, I’d better explain. I started off just a normal barking dog. Then one day many years ago I was watching TV and suddenly I could understand everything they were saying. It just happened. I don’t know how.’

  ‘Why don’t you talk to the Trifles?’

  ‘Because, Frank, if my secret gets out —’

  ‘You’ll become very famous because you’re the only talking dog in Australia,’ Frank said, interrupting him, ‘and, perhaps, the world. And then people will be taking pictures of you all the time and they’ll never leave you alone and you might be dognapped.’

  ‘How did you know all that?’

  ‘It’s just like in the books,’ Frank said. ‘I read them all. You’re the real Selby, aren’t you?’

  ‘Frank, you know too much,’ Selby said, jumping to his feet. ‘Listen here, you’re a robot and you have to do what I say. You are never, ever allowed to tell anyone my secret, do you understand?’

  ‘I’m not your robot, I’m Dr and Mrs Trifle’s robot,’ Frank said. ‘I don’t have to take orders from you.’

  ‘I don’t believe this!’ Selby said. ‘You’re going to tell on me, aren’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I might.’

  ‘But, Frank, this is crazy! What does it matter to you? Don’t tell me you want to make a lot of money out of me?’

  ‘Money? No, I don’t care about money,’ Frank said. ‘But we could make a deal. You have something I want.’

  ‘What? I’ll give you anything if you don’t tell on me,’ Selby said.

  ‘You have a human brain.’

  ‘You can’t have it!’ Selby screamed. ‘Don’t you get any ideas!’

  ‘Calm down, my little canine friend. I just want to download some of your human qualities.’

  ‘My what?’

  ‘The things about your brain that let you feel things. I want to laugh and cry. I want to be creative.’

  ‘Well, forget about it.’

  ‘I can’t, Selby, I simply can’t. I’ve been emailing a fellow by the name of Professor Barking. Have you heard of him?’

  ‘Yes, I have,’ Selby said.

  ‘He’s been working on a way of downloading mind material from one person to another. I’ve made what I call a Brain Box based on his ideas,’ Frank said, going into Dr Trifle’s workroom and then coming out with a box that looked like the one on the cover of this book. ‘I just want to capture some of your brain in here.’

  ‘Get away from me!’ Selby screamed, racing for the front door. ‘You really are Frankenstein’s monster!’ Selby yelled. ‘You’re not putting my brain in that box! No way!’

  ‘It’s only your human qualities that I’m after. You’ll still be a perfectly normal dog when I’m finished.’

  Selby grabbed the door knob only to find that the door had been deadlocked.

  ‘I don’t want to be a normal dog,’ he yelled, running for the back door. ‘I just want to be me!’

  ‘You’ll still be you,’ Frank said, coming after him. ‘What are you worried about?’

  Again the door was locked and suddenly Frank had Selby in a vice-like grip.

  ‘Frank, you can tell my secret! You can do anything! But please don’t drain my brain! I beg you!’

  ‘It won’t hurt a bit,’ Frank said, as he strapped Selby into a chair. ‘Trust me.’

  Suddenly, Frank clamped a metal cap on Selby’s head and, just as suddenly, he pulled the lever on the Brain Box.

  There was a spark and a flash Zzzzzzz zzzzzzzap! and Selby felt a wave of energy flow through his head. In a second it was over.

  ‘There, now,’ Frank said. ‘That didn’t hurt, did it?’

  Selby struggled to find words.

  ‘Woof!’ he barked finally.

  ‘Woof? Did I hear you say woof?’

  ‘Woof woof!

  ‘Well, fancy that,’ Frank said. ‘It worked. You’re normal again. Now to make me human.’

  Selby watched as Frank connected himself to the Brain Box and threw the switch in the other direction.

  Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzap!

  ‘Oh, joy! Oh, joy, this is wonderful!’ Frank screeched, as he disconnected himself from the Brain Box. ‘Oh, Selby!’ he said, kissing Selby. ‘You are wonderful! I’ll love you forever!’

  For the rest of the day, Selby watched as Frank played music and danced around the house. He turned on the TV and laughed when things were funny and cried when they were sad. And he listened to someone talking on the radio and got very angry.

  ‘That guy is right!’ he exclaimed. ‘They ought to line them all up and shoot them! What’s wrong with our politicians?! Selby, I can feel things! I’m a person now. I can’t wait to tell the Trifles. They’re really going to love me.’

  ‘Love?’ Selby thought. ‘What’s that? Who are the Trifles?’

  Selby went outside and lay by the swimming pool, his mind in a fog. Something had happened. What was it? Why did he feel the way he did? There seemed to be a new person in the house, a shiny person. His name was Frank. And those dog biscuits — they tasted okay but there was something about them. Something he couldn’t quite remember.

  Soon Frank came closer. He was humming.

  ‘He’s humming that song. I know that song but I can’t remember where I’ve heard it before. Oh, I’m so confused.’

  Suddenly Frank started singing the words:

  ‘Oh Dry-Mouth, oh Dry-Mouth oh wiggley woo

  Dry and delicious so crunchy to chew

  Fill up my bowl with my fave-ourite food

  And if you do so, then I’ll love you too.’

  And as he sang, Selby’s scrambled brain began to clear.

  It cleared.

  And it cleared.

  And it cleared some more.

  ‘I thin
k … I think … I know what … what’s happening,’ he thought. ‘And I know what I have to do.’

  It was a stealthy paw that shot out into the robot’s path. And it was a clumsy robot that fell over it and plunged straight into the swimming pool. Selby peered into the water and watched the flashing lights on Frank’s chest suddenly stop.

  Slowly the words formed in Selby’s mouth.

  ‘He tripped,’ he said. ‘I tripped him!Yiiippppeeee!’

  An hour later Dr and Mrs Trifle arrived home.

  ‘Frank?’ Mrs Trifle called. ‘Where’s Frank? Selby’s here but Frank has gone missing.’

  ‘I think I just found him,’ Dr Trifle said, coming in from the backyard. ‘He’s at the bottom of the pool. He must have fallen in.’

  ‘Your marvellous invention! Aren’t you going to get him out and fix him up?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘I’m not sure that we really want him.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘He was getting a bit bossy. And I don’t know that I like the things he did with the council. I may not be the best mayor in the world but I like the way I do things.’

  ‘Yes, from now on, it’ll just be the three of us around here,’ Dr Trifle said, giving Selby a pat. ‘You, me and Selby.’

  ‘And that’s the way I want it to be,’ Selby thought, ‘forever and ever and ever.’

  Paw note: I met Professor Barking in the story ‘Selby Unflips’ in the book Selby Sorcerer.

  SELBY’S FINAL CHALLENGE

  ‘Duncan Ball is coming to Bogusville,’ Camilla Bonzer, the teacher-librarian at Bogusville Primary School said excitedly. ‘It’s Book Week and I’ve asked him to come and read his stories to the kids at my school.’

  ‘Uh-oh. Here comes trouble,’ thought Selby. ‘I’ve got to make sure he doesn’t come near me. Otherwise he might recognise me.’

  ‘Who is it that’s coming?’ Mrs Trifle asked. ‘You know. The author who writes the books about Selby, the talking dog.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I know those books … well, a little.’

  ‘I wonder if you could do me a big favour,’ Camilla asked. ‘Would you mind putting Duncan up in your house? The Bogusville Motel is booked out and I don’t have any room at my place.’