by Terry Jones
At this point one of the flying gizmos came up and buzzed in the robot’s ear. The robot nodded. ‘I have to go and make my final checks. So stick around! And don’t forget: you’re the lucky ones! In fact you’re the luckiest creatures on Earth.
‘You see, I’m afraid I was being modest just now. The truth is I’m not just going to wipe out human life . . . I’m going to destroy life itself . . . all life on Earth. From midnight tonight, only machines will continue to exist.’
***
Now when the robot Inventor had delivered its broadcast, in which it informed the human race that it would be entirely wiped out from midnight tonight, everyone who saw it had frozen with terror. Their knees had trembled and they felt ill.
Everyone, that is, except for one viewer. She was a little old lady who had recently returned a telephone that she had bought on the grounds that it was untrustworthy. Mrs Morris, like so many millions of others, had been tied up in her kitchen by her vacuum cleaner. In her case it was an extremely elderly Eureka Model 9 that dated from 1923. It had been a little slow and creaky but it had still tied her up, and she had been so surprised that she had simply sat there, with a cup of tea halfway to her lips, unable to move or utter a sound.
However, when her television set switched itself on and the robot Inventor appeared on the screen, Mrs Morris’s face filled with indignation. She stared at the robot as if she couldn’t believe her eyes, and she let go of the teacup and didn’t even notice that the tea went all over her dress and the cup smashed on the kitchen floor.
‘Maurice!’ she murmured to herself. ‘That’s you isn’t it! Well! Of all the . . . Maurice! After all this time! I can hardly believe my eyes!’ and just to make quite certain
she blinked three times . . . But the face she saw on her TV screen remained the same. ‘So you didn’t disappear in mysterious circumstances at all! You’ve been plotting to take over the world! And without me! That is what I call downright deceitful!’
Now here I have to tell to you that Mrs Morris’s vacuum cleaner was so old that it was, in fact, a bit of a health risk. In fact, its electrical cord was so threadbare and so perished that it was a miracle that Mrs Morris hadn’t already been electrocuted.
However, now, as indignation swelled up in her breast, and as her normally placid manner was replaced by something much nearer akin to rage, she strove to break free from her bonds, and sure enough the perished cable snapped after a few tugs. In a matter of seconds Mrs Morris was free.
***
Back in the Iron Cloud, which had landed on the pleasant hills around Edinburgh, Annie, Orville and Jack looked at each other.
‘Goodness!’ said Annie. ‘I never thought I’d see us together again as a family . . . and the irony is: it’s taken the extinction of life on Earth to do it!’
Orville Barton looked from his son to his daughter to his grandson and took a deep breath. Then he said something quite extraordinary for Mr Orville Barton to say. He said, ‘My dears, I am ashamed.’
‘And well you might be!’ exclaimed Annie. ‘You never came – even when Mum was ill.’
‘Annie!’ Jack jumped in. ‘Let’s not bring that up now!’
‘I’m sorry, Jack,’ replied Annie. ‘You’re right! The first thing is to get out of here.’
‘How about your nail file?’ asked Jack.
‘Worth a try!’ said Annie, and she started trying to pierce the transparent globule that held them prisoner, but it quickly became obvious that she was never going to make any impression on it.
‘Perhaps I can help,’ said the electric egg whisk that was lying nearby. ‘I don’t want to do evil things, not now the real Inventor is back to help us.’
‘I agree,’ said a coffee percolator. ‘I like making coffee – if the robot Inventor kills off all human beings, who am I going to make coffee for?’
‘Right!’ said a sewing machine. ‘Maybe I can get my needle to burst this bubble? Then we can find the real Inventor and stop that robot!’ And with that the sewing machine started whirring away and twisted itself so that its needle vibrated against the transparent shell of the bubble. But it was no use. After a few moments the needle bent and flew out of the machine.
‘Drat!’ said the sewing machine.
‘Let me have a go,’ said an electric can-opener that had been watching all this. And in no time at all, it was pressing itself against the bubble that trapped the humans. There was a tearing sound and shearing noise and suddenly the can opener screamed, ‘Aieeeh! I’ve blunted my blade! Botheration!’
‘Let me have a go!’ said an electric screwdriver.
‘No! I’ve got more chance than you!’ cried an old combine harvester.
‘I can do it!’ yelled a rotary Wankel engine.
‘No, let me!’ called a hopeful cash register.
And all at once there was uproar in the breaking yard as machine after machine clamoured to have a go at breaking the robot Inventor’s bubble that imprisoned the four humans.
Until at length a loud voice thundered, ‘Quiet!’
It was the train, booming across the yard. All the other machines grew silent, waiting for the engine to speak.
‘Listen to me!’ said the train. ‘I take it that most of us machines here do not want to rid the world of human beings?’
‘That’s right!’ said a little roulette wheel. ‘If there aren’t any human beings – who’ll bet on any of my numbers?’
‘Who’s going to make films if there are no human beings?’ asked an old motion-picture camera.
‘Right!’ chimed in a stapling machine. ‘What’s the point of us machines being evil? We’re just machines! What’ll we do when there are no humans?’
‘In that case,’ boomed the train, ‘let’s see who has the most chance of getting these people out of their prison. How about you?’ he said turning to a pneumatic drill that had been keeping quiet as it leant casually up against a steamroller.
‘Who, me?’ said the pneumatic drill, shuffling to attention as it suddenly found all eyes focused on it. ‘Er . . . well . . . look . . . I’m strictly speaking not on duty . . . and er . . . you know I’m used to breaking up concrete and that . . . I dunno about that stuff!’
‘Just have a go!’ exclaimed the train.
‘Yes! Have a go!’ shouted the other machines in the breaking yard.
‘Er . . . It’s Friday . . . I knock off early on a Friday . . .’ the pneumatic drill started to say.
‘Go on!’ roared the other machines.
‘Yes! You’ve got to do this for all of us,’ said the train.
‘Erm . . .’ the pneumatic drill looked around and saw there was no escaping. ‘All right . . . but don’t start complaining about the noise . . .’
‘We won’t!’ shouted the other machines.
‘Promise?’ asked the pneumatic drill.
‘Just get going!’ said the train.
So the pneumatic drill started to hammer away at the hard transparent bubble that enveloped the human beings, and the clangour and rattle of its drill against the hard casing echoed around the breaking yard, and the humans inside the bubble put their hands over their ears.
The drill hammered and hammered at the transparent case and smoke began to rise from the engine of the drill.
‘I’m overheating!’ yelled the drill.
And sure enough sparks were beginning to jump out from its blade and the smoke became blacker and the engine seemed to be turning red and then white with the heat . . . But still the drill bravely stuck to its task and redoubled its efforts until suddenly it gave a loud groan.
‘Arghhh!’ and din stopped abruptly as drill’s engine seized up.
‘Well,’ said the train sadly, ‘if you can’t break it I doubt there’s any machine here that can.’
‘Yes there is!’ It was the little egg whisk speaking up.
‘Don’t be silly!’ said a pair of garden shears. ‘If the pneumatic drill can’t make any impact what could you do?’
‘I wasn’t thinking of me!’ exclaimed the egg whisk.’ I was thinking of that!’ and it nodded towards the crusher that stood at the further end of the breaking yard.
‘Of course!’ cried the train. ‘Orville, Annie, Jack! Do you trust us?’
‘We don’t have that much choice,’ said Jack.
‘All right! Hang on!’ and with that the train started to nose the transparent bubble along with its buffers . . . through the breaking yard towards the grim crusher that loomed above all the other machines.
‘Oh no!’ screamed Annie. ‘Not in that thing! Please!’
‘That’s scary!’ said Orville.
‘Crusher!’ called out the train. ‘Can we count on you? Will you just crush this bubble enough to break it – without hurting the folk inside?’
‘Well . . .’ said the crusher. ‘Hmm . . . I don’t know if I can . . .’
‘You can’t trust that crusher!’ piped up an old motor car. ‘It likes crushing too much!’
‘Listen!’ said the train. ‘You’re not that evil are you?’
‘Yes it is!’ yelled a refrigerator. ‘It’s enjoys flattening anything! It’s a brute!’
‘I just do my job!’ said the crusher defensively.
‘All right,’ said the train. ‘Your job this time is to crush this bubble just to break it – but not to crush the humans inside. Do you understand?’
‘Hmm! OK . . . I can probably manage that . . . but I can’t guarantee!’
‘I agree with the fridge!’ shouted out Annie, holding her baby son tight to her chest. ‘I don’t think I trust it.’
‘It’s our only chance!’ said Jack, putting his arm round his sister.
‘Cover yourselves up!’ warned the train. ‘There might be all sorts of flying debris!’
By this time the train had nosed the transparent bubble into place under the giant crusher. A silence fell over the breaking yard. All the machines turned to stare at the evil-looking crusher that had put an end to so many of their comrades.
‘Oh dear!’ muttered Orville, looking up at the huge iron block that was about to descend on them.
‘Oh dear!’ murmured Annie.
‘Oh dear!’ moaned Jack, for even though he knew it was their only chance, he went white with fear, when he looked up at that dreadful machine.
But it was too late.
‘Chugga! chugga! chugga!’ went the crusher, as its engine sparked into life and it began to shake as it gathered up power . . . The crushing platen had already started to bear down upon the bubble, and within a few seconds it had made contact.
The train hurriedly got out of the way, as the pressure from the crusher made the transparent sides of the bubble begin to bulge.
‘Suppose it can’t stop itself,’ whispered the little egg whisk to a nearby bread maker.
‘We’ll soon see!’ said the bread maker.
There was a sort of half-screeching sound as the sides of the bubble bulged out and out – further and further.
‘It’s going to burst!’ called the train. The humans inside
the bubble bent themselves up into tight balls, covering their heads with their arms . . .
‘Screeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaak . . .’ went the bubble. ‘Screeea – KAPLOOO — MPTK!’
But it didn’t break . . . it didn’t even crack . . .
And the crushing platen got lower and lower and lower . . . until it was only a few inches above the heads of the human beings trapped within.
‘How can it stop itself when that thing bursts?’ wondered the little egg whisk. ‘It’s bound to give a few inches . . .’
Lower and lower . . . so that the terrified humans cowered down – trying to avoid the platen – lower and lower . . . and then suddenly it stopped and shot back up again faster than you would have thought possible.
The bubble immediately contracted the other way . . . and that was when it burst!
It shattered into a million tiny pieces that flew all over the breaking yard, pinging off metal machines and metal buildings. The humans screamed. The egg whisk gasped.
Annie, Orville, Little Orville and Jack were shaken; they were shaking; they were covered in debris . . . but they were free.
The Love Machine
The moment they stepped out from under the crusher, Annie turned to her brother. ‘Jack,’ she said, ‘I think we need to divide our efforts. You and Dad go after the robot, I’ll see if I can find Maurice. If he’s still alive, we’re going to need him!’
‘What about Little Orville?’ asked her father.
‘He’ll be OK,’ said Annie. ‘Won’t you, little man?’ And Little Orville gurgled something that sounded like ‘Squillifrankles!’ and quite possibly could have been that very word.
‘But, Annie, how are we going to meet up again?’ asked Jack.
‘We’ll just have to take a chance. If I find Maurice, he’ll probably know where to look for his robot. If I don’t find him . . . well . . . I’m glad we all did something together as a family at last! And trying to save the human race doesn’t seem a bad thing to get together over.’
With that she put her arms around her brother and
hugged him. ‘Annie,’ said Jack. ‘If I . . . If we . . . If we don’t see each other again . . . But we will won’t we?’
‘Of course!’ said Annie quietly, and she kissed her brother.
Orville watched them, and felt strangely moved by the way his son so obviously respected his elder sister. It was yet another thing he had never known about.
‘We’ll see you soon,’ said Orville.
‘Right, Dad!’ said Annie. ‘You go and find that robot and I’ll join you as soon as I can.’
And before anyone could see whether or not there was a tear in her eye, Annie was running across the breaking yard, holding Little Orville in her arms.
‘What are we going to do?’ asked Orville. It was the sort of question he asked his employees when he knew the answer. The difference was that now he really wanted to know.
‘Well, that thing’s a robot isn’t it?’ replied his son. ‘It’s just a machine . . . a machine that’s controlled by a computer . . . in which case, I’ve got as good a chance as anyone of stopping it.’
‘It said something about making its final checks . . . So what would it be checking?’ asked Orville.
‘The rectifiers?’ suggested a small voice.
‘What are the rectifiers?’ asked Jack, turning to the egg whisk that had spoken up.
‘I don’t know,’ the egg whisk shrugged its handle. ‘But I heard the robot talking about them with the flying gizmos.’
‘OK let’s get looking!’ said Jack, and he clambered up the gantry to the Inventor’s control room.
In less time than it takes to undercook an egg, Jack
had hacked into the robot Inventor’s computer. ‘Would you believe it!’ he muttered. ‘It even uses “Maurice” as its password! It has no imagination . . . which I suppose isn’t surprising because after all it’s only a machine . . .’
And in less time than it takes to flash-fry a piece of haddock, Jack had typed in ‘rectifiers’ and a map of the world had filled the screen. Across the map of the world were scattered hundreds of red dots.
‘You see that one flashing?’said Jack.
‘Near Glasgow?’ asked Orville.
‘Let’s go!’said Jack, and he was off before Orville could stutter, ‘But how can you be sure . . .’
‘Can any machine here give us a lift?’ shouted Jack, as he jumped down the steps of the gantry.
‘I could take you somewhere,’ drawled a revolutionary water-powered motorbike that was leaning casually against the dismantling shed. ‘I’ve plenty of water in my tank.’
And before you would have had time to even put the porridge in the pan, Jack had leapt in the saddle.
‘Shouldn’t we wait for Annie?’ panted Orville as he climbed on behind his son.
‘She’ll find us!’ said Jack, and once again Orville
was struck by the confidence which his son had in his sister.
‘They are splendid people – my children,’ Orville found himself thinking. But there was no time for more reflection.
‘Glasgow!’ shouted Jack.
‘You got it!’ roared the water-powered motorbike, and it shot across the breaking yard and out through a door that opened up (just in the nick of time) in the side of the Iron Cloud.
‘What happens if that door doesn’t open?’ asked Jack, as they sped through it.
‘Dreadful mess!’ replied the water-powered motorbike. ‘Everyone gets soaked!’
‘But how can you be so sure the robot’s in Glasgow?’ fretted Orville, clinging onto his son.
‘I’m not! But it’s the only clue we’ve got!’ exclaimed Jack, and he revved up the water-powered motorbike.
‘I like this!’ said the motorbike, and suddenly a pair of wings snapped out from under its petrol tank, and the machine glided gently down to the ground. The moment they landed on the hillside, the wings snapped back in and the bike was off with a roar.
‘Glasgow’s a big place!’ shouted Orville. ‘How will we know where to look?’
‘What’s that on your wrist?’ shouted Jack.
‘Of course!’ exclaimed Orville. ‘I’d forgotten about the finder!’
And in less time than it takes to warm a salad, Orville Barton had typed in the word ‘rectifier’ on the finder’s keypad. Immediately the machine lit up with a ‘Ping!’ and projected an image on to Jack’s back.
‘That tickles!’ exclaimed Jack. ‘What are you doing?’
‘The finder’s projecting an image on your back!’ shouted his father.
‘What can you see?’ shouted Jack.
‘It looks like an electrical substation or a generator of some sort,’ said Orville. ‘But it’s not in a town – it’s on a hillside!’
‘So we know it’s not in Glasgow, but nearby on a hill!’ shouted Jack. ‘Now dial in “robot Inventor”!’
And his father dialled in ‘robot Inventor’ and sure enough an image appeared right in front of his nose, projected on to his son’s back.
‘It’s him!’ gasped Orville. ‘The robot! I can see him clear as daylight, and he’s standing in front of the generator thing!’