by David Poland
When the family unit was initiated, Carl was only two years old. Over the next five years, he claimed Tommy as his own big brother. Tommy and Carl were cut from different stock, but Carl seemed to like his big stepbrother from the very start. He liked his size and strength and tried to be just like him. In just a few years Carl determined he was much smarter than Tommy. They never played chess and after a while, Tommy realized that he only won at checkers when Carl let him. Fortunately there was never a fight. There were several occasions when Carl had helped Tommy think his way out of some trouble, and whenever the big kids gave Carl a bad time they’d wind up face to face with Tommy whose idea of justice was, “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.”
This morning, as usual, Angie sat at the table with her morning tea and the news on her flat screen. Demy came in from the kitchen with a perfectly poached egg, a beautifully sliced fresh pear, and hot, buttered toast. She looked away from her flat screen saying, “Oh, Demy, this is beautiful. I can even smell the warm toast.” Then nodding her head slightly as though inviting a confession from an old friend, she asked, “Did you make the bread from scratch?”
“Yes, ma’am, I did.”
“Oh now, Demy, you needn’t be so formal. Come close and let me give you a hug.”
The robot stood close to her as she wrapped one arm around its waist. When Angie returned to her breakfast, the robot stood behind her and put its soft humanlike hands gently on her shoulders. “Oh my,” whispered Demy, “I feel some tension in your left shoulder. I’ll loosen it up a bit before Tommy comes in.”
“Hey Tommy,” yelled Angie sounding not the least bit sophisticated. “You better get in here or you’re going to miss your breakfast.”
Tommy entered the room fully dressed but not looking fully awake. “So where’s Carl the electronic brain?”
Angie took a long sip of her tea before she answered. “Carl’s math teacher picked him up a hour ago. The chess club downtown is giving the chess club at school a special breakfast.”
Tommy’s groggy mind wasn’t getting the relationship between breakfast, chess, and a math teacher. Demy came into the room with his breakfast. When the robot set the tray on the table, Tommy reached for the coffee before the robot had a chance to give it to him. Demy had learned that Tommy liked it warm but not hot. Tommy straightened up a bit as he drank the full cup. Exhaling loudly, he told the robot to bring him another one. The robot took his cup and saucer back into the kitchen.
Over the last few days Tommy had decided that the real reason his escape had failed, was because Demy had tipped off Officer Dax. Nothing could be further from the truth, but in Tommy’s mind Demy couldn’t be trusted. Now that he didn’t trust the machine anymore, he wanted to get rid of it, but there was nothing he could do. He looked over his breakfast trying to find something wrong. The robot had brought out steak and eggs with a half dozen silver dollar pancakes that were buttered and under a strip of apricot jam. He began to eat as if he were enduring the unendurable. He loved silver dollar pancakes and the robot had made them thick, just the way he liked them. OK, he thought, this robot’s a darn good cook, but I still don’t trust no domestic robot.
Angie looked over at Tommy with increasing suspicion. “Yesterday at the office somebody asked me what your next piece of modern sculpture would be. Do you know what they’re talking about?”
Her words threatened his secret. He was now wide-awake and felt a surge of adrenaline that he kept hidden. His thinking became clear and sharp. He had the decency to clear his mouth before he spoke. “They got nothin’ to do, so they walkin’ in circles and makin’ up stuff. My money says they don’t even know what modern art is.”
“Are you interested in art?” she asked in a very kind way.
“And are you forgetting what kind of job you got me?” he answered thinking he just took control of the conversation. “Think about it, Angie dear, we got no art on the trash trucks.”
“Just checking Tommy-tom. You know how much I love to hear about your adventures.”
Demy stepped back into the room with Tommy’s second cup of coffee. “My sensors read your bus is only nine minutes away. The day will be beautiful. Tommy will not need a jacket. Is there some way I may help?”
“No thank you, Demy,” answered Angie, “but if you can keep an eye out for our bus, that would help.”
At about 10:00 AM on this Thursday morning, Officer Dax had directed his nifty new police transport to take him to visit his old friend Ted over at the WPA. Dax wasn’t driving. He let the machine do all the work. He was very pleased with Tommy’s progress and wondered why Ted had called him. Instead of parking up front, his transport took him around to the back lot. As he approached, one of the gates opened and the transport entered. He was taken to the shop building where Ted was waiting by a large open door.
Ted was pleased to see his old friend. “Hello there, Captain Dax. Pull on in out of the sun. I see you had no trouble finding me.”
“Didn’t do a thing. My transport talked to your building and they brought me here.” Officer Dax stepped off of his transport; and when he stepped away, it turned itself around getting ready to leave. “So Tommy has put in three full days with no problem and, even as we speak, he’s out there doing his job?”
“He is,” answered Ted, “but I think you should see some modern art that he has collected.” They walked over to where a canvas covered the rusting remnant of a motorcycle. They took opposite ends and lifted the canvas together. “As you can see our man has found himself an old bike. Will owning this thing get him in more trouble?”
Dax shook his head. “Not the way it is. If he gets it back in running order then he’ll be in trouble. How did you find out about this thing?”
Ted opened his hands as though saying the obvious. “The truck reported the salvage even as they loaded it. The lost and stolen property system found the history for it and determined it had been abandoned. Somebody was trying to throw it away. The truck and the property system decided it was acceptable salvage and listed Tommy as the current legitimate owner. The computerized analysis was done even before they came back to the yard. The next day I saw it on the report sheets.”
Dax looked quite concerned. “Why did you call it modern art? It’s not art. It’s an old wreck of a motorcycle that can’t even be driven. It doesn’t even have its front wheel or a seat any more.”
“Well that’s just it. The trash truck automatically recorded what Tommy was saying when he found it. Right off the bat he started calling it modern art. He said he wanted it for his flowerbed to scare away the birds.”
“Well, as motorcycles go,” said Dax, “it’s pretty scary, but I don’t think it will scare any birds away.” Dax looked more closely and said, “This thing’s pretty far gone. I don’t think Tommy has any chance of restoring it.”
“I don’t think Tommy can, but his partner, a guy named Jackson, rides an old fashioned bike and he’s pretty handy with tools.” As he spoke, Ted looking at it more carefully. “You know missing the front wheel and the seat makes it look a lot worse than it might be.”
Dax stepped back from the wreck. “Like I said, if he can get it running, he’s in trouble; but if he’s just messing around with some scrap iron, that’s no problem. Are you going to let them work on it here in the shop?”
“No, I can’t do that. In fact I’ve got to get it out of here before the next Homeland Maintenance inspector shows up. If some guy from HM sees this thing in here, he’ll demand to know why it hasn’t been turned in for recycling. Then I’ll be in trouble. You see if you told me Tommy couldn’t own it, then I would tell him we have to turn it in for scrap; but you’re telling me as long as it’s scrap, he can own it. So I’ve got to tell him to get it out of here today or tomorrow or he loses it.”
“That’s about the size of it,” said Dax. “When you tell him he’s got to move it, be sure to tell him he can’t own it if it’s in running order. If we catch him riding it, he’s in the box
for sure.” Dax thought for a moment. “He’s got to work for a full six months before HC will even talk to him about a driver’s license. You might remind him of that.”
“I don’t think he could bring this thing back to life in six months,” said Ted. “I’ll tell you this, sure as data processing, I’m not going to take a hit from HM when they find this thing in my shop.”
Dax started back to his transport. “You can call me anytime you want. I got to go. I see lights flashing on my buggy, but keep me posted.” Dax sat down in his transport. “OK, sweetheart, take me where I have to go.” Dax waved back to Ted as his transport silently engaged and drove out of the shop.
Ted went back to the motorcycle and covered it back up. “I got to get this thing out of here before one of those inspectors shows up,” he said under his breath. Ted then looked around expecting to see an inspector coming through one of the doors. There was no one about. He headed back to his office hurrying to beat the inevitable.
From his desk, he called Tommy’s trash truck and had his call sent directly to Tommy. “Hello there Tommy, how’s your day going?”
“Just fine, sir. Oh man, did we screw something up at the last stop?”
“Oh no, not at all. I think you’re off to a very good start, but I wanted to let you know I found your modern art under a canvas.”
“As you can see I cleaned it up before I put it inside, and it’s not taking up very much room.”
“Yes, yes. You did a good job, but HM won’t let us keep personal property here in the shop buildings. You got to get that thing out of here today or tomorrow at the latest, or we have to turn it over to the scrap metal guys.”
“Sir, with all due respect, I can’t do it till next week.”
“Not good enough Tommy,” answered Ted. “If it’s not out of here by the end of shift tomorrow, I will turn it over to the recyclers.”
“Oh man, I just can’t do it.”
“It’s a beautiful piece of modern art,” said Ted. “Move it or lose it.” There was no immediate answer. “Maybe Jackson can help you do it. Listen, I need to go now, but best of luck.” Ted clicked off without another word.
As the big truck stopped for the next dumpster Tommy jumped off with his broom. There was not a lot to do. “Did you hear what Ted was telling me?”
“Yeah. That’s what I told you would happen the day you found it.”
“So what do I do? I don’t want to lose it.”
“So how much money you got saved?” asked Jackson.
Ted’s monitor gave him a problem alert. One of the trucks had stopped in the middle of the highway and wouldn’t move. Even as Ted read the message he could see through the window, two of the yardmen getting into the tow truck. Ted went back outside and got into his supervisor’s vehicle. The machine was something like an old twentieth century jeep, except it was electric. He drove it himself and followed the tow truck out the gate.
After about ten minutes, Ted let his vehicle drive itself. Without the distraction of driving, he contacted his trash truck routing system. The truck with the problem was located at least twenty minutes away and it hadn’t moved. Ted and the routing system reassigned the addresses that hadn’t been reached to a new truck that was out on a test run. That should do it he thought and shut down his computer terminal. It was not a bad day for a drive and so he resumed driving.
The city was looking good as he drove along and he felt good about what he and the WPA were doing. He more or less lost track of time. The tow truck he was following started slowing down as they came to the disabled trash truck. No sooner had they came to a stop, did his monitor run a red banner for his immediate attention. Back on Monday, the man that he had given such a bad time about his overflowing dumpster had filed a formal complaint. He said that while Ted’s willingness to help his men clean up the problem was commendable, what he had said to the client was unacceptable. He was informed by the unseen WPA coordinator to stay away from that site, and to have his men take a second dumpster to the client before the end of the day.
Ted thought of Jackson first and asked the system where he was. The system said that he and Tommy had just stopped for lunch. Ted then told the system to give the job to Jackson and Tommy and to inform truck 38 to take them back to the yard after lunch. When they were in route to the yard, the truck was to give Jackson the details. Before he got out of his vehicle, he told the system to reassign the last half of 38’s route to other trucks.
Trash truck 38 had pulled into the truck stop with a pizza kitchen. Tommy was carrying two paper credits and didn’t need another advance. The place was big and noisy like the Snake Dancer but the smell was pure heaven.
“Ok, dude, this is what we can do. They call their big pizza the ten-wheeler and it’s loaded. It’s hard to eat more than half of it. They charge three credits for it and a pony is only forty cents.”
“A pony’s for Cub Scouts,” said Tommy. “When I drink a beer, I want a full beer. How much is a full bottle?”
“Hey, dude, not on my shift,” said Jackson. “We’re workin’ around a pretty big machine. A full bottle will give you a buzz. You got a buzz on and that machine can hurt you big time. So don’t do it. Maybe you should get a coke.”
“No stupid little pony is gonna wash down half a giant pizza.”
“Trust me dude. A full beer is too much. Get yourself a big coke.” It was now their turn at the counter and Jackson ordered before Tommy could say a word. “We’ll have a ten-wheeler, a pony, and a giant coke.”
“Three seventy.”
Jackson had two paper credits in his hand and took the two paper credits out of Tommy’s hand. He was given thirty cents change and a ticket. As they went to the pick-up window Jackson gave Tommy twenty cents. The giant coke’s only thirty cents, the pony is forty cents.
“I didn’t tell you I wanted a coke. I wanted a full beer.”
“You want to work with a buzz on, you can go work with somebody else. You also got a problem with the ten-wheeler?” Just then the pizza came through the window. It was hot and pizza perfection. The sight of the pizza made Tommy forget about the beer. “Come on, dude. Lets eat and get out of here. We got to figure out something for your motorcycle. It sure ain’t gonna walk to your house.”
The pizza was as good as it looked and Tommy actually liked coke. As he ate he became thoughtful. “My motorcycle doesn’t take up that much room, do you think we can find another place in the shop where Ted can’t find it?”
“No way, dude. Ted’s a reasonable man, but Homeland Maintenance has these inspector guys and they can’t think. They just got this rulebook and if it isn’t in the book, it goes out the door. You got to get that thing home before the inspector comes around.”
“I can’t carry it home,” said Tommy despairing, “and they’re not going to let me take it on the bus. What would you do?”
“On some jobs they let me drive a small truck. If we can find a reason to take out a small truck, we could sneak it out to your place on the way to the job; and if we do it during a week day, your sister will be here in the office and won’t know what’s going on.”
“And she won’t know what happened,” said Tommy rather deviously. “Come on, Jackson, eat your half; we got to get outa here.” At this point Tommy really didn’t know what to do, but he could tell that Jackson was going to figure it out for him. As they walked back to the truck Tommy’s impatience started getting the best of him. “So what we gonna do? How we gonna get it to my house before Ted takes it away from me?”
“I don’t know yet. I got to think on this one.” The truck engaged silently and then turned the wrong way. “Hey, whatcha doin’ 38?” asked Jackson as they drove down the wrong street.
“The last part of our route has been reassigned,” answered the trash truck. “We are being called back to the yard. You and Tommy have been asked to deliver a new dumpster to one of our clients.”
Yes! Thought Jackson. This was just the break he needed. He looked over a
t Tommy who had also heard the truck. Tommy also saw the possibilities, and looked back with a smile and a thumbs up sign. The fourteen minutes it took to drive back to the yard seemed like fourteen hours. As they finally pulled around the backside of the yard, one of the gates opened automatically. The truck let them off near the yard foreman’s shack, then drove away to dump its load.
The foreman came out of his shack before they reached his door. “Hey Jackson,” the foreman said, “they’re given our man Ted a bad time. You think you and your partner can bail him out?”
“Who’s giving him a bad time?” asked Jackson indignantly. “There’s nothing wrong with the way Ted runs this yard.”
“I’m with you,” said the yardman. “You remember that stuffed shirt with the big mess on Monday.”
“Yeah. How’d you hear about him?”
“Everybody knows about him. We all saw it on the monitors.”
“So what’s the big deal?” said Jackson. “Ted made him work a little bit and clean up part of his own mess.”
“Yeah, well he whined about how Ted talked to him, so they said Ted couldn’t go back on his property. So Ted asked me to help you guys get a second dumpster over to him. I got shuttle truck number 72 ready to roll.”
Shaking his head with disbelief, Jackson answered. “We can do it. When we get there should we throw him in the new dumpster?”
The yardman liked the idea of throwing the stuffed shirt in the dumpster, but said, “No don’t get us in more trouble. In fact if he doesn’t come, don’t even knock on his door. Take brooms and a shovel. If there’s anything lying around, clean it up.”