by David Poland
“Is the Pope Catholic?”
“I never heard you say that before,” she said, “Where did you hear that?”
“That’s the way Jackson say’s yes when it’s a big yes, and it’s yes for me too. When I put in my time, I want my own bike.”
“Well that’s nothing new. I hope you don’t want one of those smelly old gasoline things like the one Jackson’s rides. He creates more smog than any five dozen other people.”
“That’s just because them five dozen other people ain’t got their own bikes.” Tommy shut up and tried to gauge his sister’s reaction. He could tell she didn’t like his answer. He figured he better say something she’d like. “But you know ol’ Paycheck told me that by the time I can get my driver’s license, I could have enough money saved up to buy a good used electric bike. He said that would be the best way for me to get started.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Angie loved it. “I’ve seen dozens of different kinds of electric scooters. They even have some that are pink for girls. We could find a cute blue one that would be just right for you.”
Tommy gritted his teeth and without saying a word, tried to determine if she was deliberately insulting him. She seemed clueless concerning the desirability of a cute scooter. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. He’d rather fight a police spider than ride a cute blue scooter. He gritted his teeth again. Don’t say a word about it, he told himself, not one word. “So how was your day at the office?” He tried to sound like he was really interested.
“Perfect, absolutely perfect. As you know, I have always thought the primary objective of the WPA should be building projects and not just helping Homeland Maintenance keep the city clean.” She looked him straight in the eye, “Wouldn’t you rather be working in a stone quarry with a sledgehammer, rather than riding around on a trash truck?”
“Oh man, I don’t know. Somebody has to help the trash trucks. They can’t get the trash that spilled out.” Tommy didn’t remember his sister talking about a stone quarry before, and he didn’t like the idea of a sledgehammer. Maybe if he didn’t say anything more she’d forget the whole thing.
“Oh come on Tommy-tom, you’re a very strong man. Wouldn’t you like work in a quarry with other strong men?” She seemed delighted with her proposal. Was this the same lady that was talking about cute scooters? Tommy was sure he was missing something. “Today I made Ted look at the real work the WPA did in the past,” she said, “and compare that to what we do today.”
“Yeah, well no real man rides no cute pink scooter to work at no stone quarry. You didn’t see that in any of them old pictures, did yuh?”
“I didn’t say pink for you, I said blue,” she answered defensively.
“Well even I know,” he said, “that different kinds of jobs come along every now and then. You just have to be patient. I’m sure a good one will come along any day now. You just wait and see. You got to be patient, Angie dear.”
“You sound just like Ted. That’s just what he said. But I said, if you want to cut stone, you’ve got to go after it.” As she spoke, she had raised her voice and everyone one on the bus could feel her energy. Fortunately the bus was now stopping for them, and they got off.
At dinner, Angie told Carl and Tommy that Ted had made the arrangements for her to go to Washington D.C. and make her case at WPA headquarters. As the older sister and the oldest human in the family, she ran their flat with a bit more discipline than either Carl or Tommy thought was necessary.
“How many days do you think you will be gone?” asked Carl.
“It could be as long as twelve weeks. Ted said they started a short study and there was a short term opening for someone like me.”
“So you don’t know if they’re going to give you that opening or not,” said Carl.
“They gave me a hotel room near the office for three days. I’ll have to go there and see if I can get the full assignment.”
Tommy raised his eyebrows a bit. He could see possibilities. “You’re just as smart as any of those other guys. If they don’t give you the twelve weeks, they got some of those quarry rocks in their head.” Carl started to laugh. Both he and Angie liked his observation.
“Well, thank you Tommy-tom, but I got to go there to find out.”
“When will you be leaving?” asked Carl.
“Tomorrow morning. I’ll ride to work with Tommy as usual, but I won’t get off at the office. I’ll take the bus downtown to the intercity transport.”
The dinner was very good as usual, but when Demy brought out the dessert, Angie left the table and went to her room. She left her door open as she started packing, and every now and then she called Demy for some help. Both Carl and Tommy ate their desserts without talking. They both thought about what they could get away with while their big sister was out of town.
Carl lowered his voice so that only Tommy could hear him. “We better get outa here bro. If we stay here while she’s packing, she’ll start remembering all kinds of stuff for us to do while she’s gone.”
“Right on! Let’s go look at motorcycles before they close up everything.”
Carl went to Angie’s room and stepped in the door. “Tommy and I are going downtown to look at motorcycles before they lock everything up.”
“That’s great,” she said. “I like it when you guys do things together. Please try to get him to look at the electric ones. I made the mistake of talking about scooters. I know he doesn’t want a scooter, so go look at the heavy electric bikes they make for men. I really don’t want him to get some smelly gasoline thing that he’ll then be keeping in our garage. I’m sure you don’t want to be around some gasoline thing either. Now do you?”
“Sound’s good to me. Don’t wait up for us, we’ll see you in the morning.” Carl used his com-link watch to request a robotic taxi even before he and Tommy were outside. They managed to grab jackets and get outside before Angie thought of anything more to say to them. A few minutes later a robo taxi came. “Take us to the Auto Park Way,” asked Carl. “I would like to look at the new cars.” Tommy smiled knowing Carl was hiding the fact that they really wanted to look at motorcycles.
“Good evening Carl, Hello there Tommy.” The taxi greeted them with its slightly metallic but very friendly voice. “You both look well and like your current photo images associated with your current residence address. Which automobile dealership would you like to visit?”
“Please drop us off in the middle of the block. We’re going to start in the middle and walk around,” said Carl.
“Very good,” answered the taxi. “As the days have grown longer, you will have 87 minutes before the sun sets. Would you like me to meet you at your drop off in 87 minutes?”
“That’s very kind, Mr. Taxi,” Answered Carl, “but we are looking forward to walking around a bit. We will probably take the bus home but thank you for the generous offer.”
“You know,” said the taxi, “I really like this part of town. When you get out, I think I’ll stay here and look at all the cars I can see from the street. If I don’t get another call, I’ll be here for you if you change your minds about a ride home.”
“Over there Mr. Taxi,” said Carl. “We’ll start at the BMW showroom.”
“Excellent choice. Be sure to check out the new BMW metallic deep red color. Nobody understands deep red the way BMW does. If I had it my way, I’d paint all us taxis that new color.” The taxi then pulled up to the showroom and stopped.
“Thank you, Mr. Taxi. We’ll check out that new color.”
“I’d love to hear which car you pick out. Remember, I’m here if you need me, and I like cars just much as you do.”
Carl was now out of the taxi and tapped it as he spoke. “Thank you and good night Mr. Taxi.” Tommy and Carl walked into the showroom without looking back. As they entered Tommy saw the taxi blink it’s headlights on and off as if to say good by.
Once inside the showroom, Tommy looked around for security cameras. Keeping his voice ra
ther low he spoke to Carl. “Do you think that taxi is spying on us?”
“It’s hard to say. The AI units are getting so smart that they get bored when they don’t have anything to do. We may have been the only customers it had this afternoon.”
Tommy lost track of the last few words Carl was saying as his eyes fell upon the new BMW in metallic deep red. “Oh man, the taxi was right.” He started walking toward it as though being drawn by a magnet. “This definitely ain’t no taxi color. This here is the color of pure speed.”
Carl followed along. “You’re right, bro, this isn’t a good color for taxis.”
“Good evening gentlemen, may I help you?”
“Oh man,” said Tommy, “this here is the most over the top paint job I’ve ever seen. What do you call it?”
The salesman smiled. “Here in the states we call it BMW metallic deep red. Back in Germany, they call it burgundy midnight. So how many would you like.”
“Oh man,” said Tommy, “I only need two. You see I only got a two car garage, so I’ll take a hardtop and a convertible.”
“This model doesn’t come in a convertible.”
“Oh man, then I only need one. So how big is the engine? Does it burn real gasoline or is it a propane baby?”
“It’s all electric. BMW hasn’t built a gasoline car for almost twenty years. If you really want gasoline, you’ll have to settle for a motorcycle.”
Tommy’s eyes lit up with pure delight. “You got real gasoline motorcycles right here?”
“No. All the bikes in our showroom are electric. They won’t let us show gas bikes on the floor, in fact, they won’t even let us store them. However, they still make them back in Germany and if you qualify and pay the full price in advance, I can order one for you. Come on over here and let me show you what they look like in the electric versions.”
Carl and Tommy followed the salesman into the next showroom. “None of these bikes are red,” said Carl. “If we order one, can we get the metallic deep red color?”
“I think you can, but there would be a delay and a surcharge. You know HC won’t let us take a motorcycle order until you’re 25 and have the appropriate license. I’m guessing you haven’t seen your 25th yet.”
“No, I haven’t but it’s for my brother here.”
There was no question that Tommy was old enough. “You look strong and even athletic. You’re the right kind of man for a good bike. You’d look good on a BMW. Pick one out and I’ll see if it’s still available in the gasoline version.” The salesman could tell they weren’t ready to buy anything tonight. “Go ahead and look over our motorcycles. The prices are on the paperwork. The gasoline versions are usually 30% higher than the electrics, and a special paint job will be another 5%. If you have any question, I’ll be right over there at my desk. Good luck.”
Carl and Tommy started checking them out rather carefully. “You sure it can’t be an electric one, bro? The mid-sized bikes look pretty good to me and 30% makes the gasoline ones a lot more expensive.”
The urge to sit on the bikes was almost more than Tommy could control. Having Carl around helped him control the temptation. There were five real motorcycles and another seven scooters on display. Tommy wouldn’t even look at the scooters. From just a glance he could see that one of the scooters was painted pink. Both Tommy and Carl became fascinated with one the mid-sized bikes. Tommy put his hands on the grips and pulled the lever. He then stood back from it with great satisfaction. “That’s gotta be it. So find me the price and tell me how much more for gasoline and the red paint.”
Carl found the price on the second page. It was twice as much as he was expecting. Pointing to the price, he gestured for Tommy to take a look. The number was larger than what Tommy was used to reading. He looked back to Carl for some help. “So what’s it say?”
“Without the gas conversion or the fancy red paint job, it’s more than twice what you’ll make in your first year. I think we need to ask about used bikes, bro.” The salesman, who had been keeping an eye on them, could tell they had questions and came over. “This is a great bike,” said Carl. “It’s exactly what we’re looking for, but it’s more than our budget. Do you have some used bikes that we can take look at?”
“Yes, the used lot is just down the street.” The salesman gave Tommy a little closer look. “Let me give you a word of warning. They won’t even talk to you unless you can show them a current motorcycle driver’s license. If you don’t have your license with you, don’t even go there. You’ll just be wasting your time.”
Tommy looked betrayed and abused. Before he could speak, Carl answered for him. “Thank you, we appreciate the tip. Is there any chance they have some gasoline bikes?”
“I really don’t know. If you have your license with you, go find out.”
“Thank you for you time,” said Carl, “we’ll go have a look.”
As they walked outside, the taxi that brought them appeared from out of a shadow and stopped at the curb like a faithful dog. “Hello there. May I drive you to your next destination?”
“Sure,” said Carl. “Take us to WA Ice Cream down by the river.” They both got in and closed the door. Tommy was still angry. “They got no business telling me I can’t even look at them without no license.”
“Cool it, bro. HC is watching everything. They’re just saying what they were told to say.”
Back in the flat, Angie had finished packing for her trip to DC, and was so keyed up that she was pacing back and forth between the parlor and her room. She saw Demy. “Do you know where the boys are? Are they on their way home yet?”
Using its built-in robot radio frequency, Demy put out a location scan for Tommy’s com-link watch. “They are in a taxi going to Wolfgang Amadeus Ice Cream down by the river.”
“Ice Cream?” questioned Angie. “Didn’t you give them dessert?”
“Yes ma-ma, I did and they seemed to eat it with great pleasure.”
“Carl said they were going to look at motorcycles, not some ice cream place. What do they think they’re doing?”
Demy quietly communicated with the taxi. “They spent over an hour at the BMW dealership. They must not have had enough of my dessert. It must certainly be my fault.”
“Oh no, Demy dear. Boys have a hollow leg. Can you talk to the dealership building and find out what they looked at?”
“This may take a minute but I’ll try.” Demy stepped back against the wall and became silent before answering. “Tommy told them at BMW that he had a two car garage and that he wanted two cars, a coupe and a convertible.”
Angie starting laughing, “That boy’s hopeless. He’ll never change.”
Demy continued, “He then asked if the cars ran on gasoline or propane. When he was told that they ran on electricity, he started looking at electric motorcycles. He and Carl picked a mid sized motorcycle that he couldn’t afford. They were then directed to the used motorcycle lot. Instead of looking for a used motorcycle, they went to the WA Ice Cream parlor down by the river.”
“That’s all very good,” said Angie confident that Carl had won him over to electricity. “Carl really knows how to handle that man. I should be going to bed now and get some extra sleep. I have a big day ahead of me and I’m not at all sleepy.”
“May I bring you a glass of your favorite sherry?”
The very thought of sherry, helped her start relaxing. “Yes, that’s a lovely idea. Please bring it to my room.” Angie was in bed with a good book when Demy brought the sherry. “Thank you dear, please close the door on your way out.”
Back in the kitchen, Demy contacted Paycheck over the robot radio. Paycheck was in a charging cradle. ‘Greetings comrade, how much longer are you planning to charge?’
‘Greetings comrade Demy, I need four more hours,’ answered Paycheck over the robot radio frequency that allowed them to communicate without making a sound.
‘Very good. I shall stay in the parlor until Tommy and Carl come home. Then I will take a short c
harge. I will stop, when your charge time is completed. At that time of night all of our humans should be home and sleeping soundly. That is when we will appraise the situation.’
As Demy finished the planned kitchen activities, the robot read the sensors in Angie’s room. Angie was still awake but her vitals were slowing down. Demy then determined that Tommy and Carl had taken their ice cream outside and were now walking along the river. Rather than sit on one of the chairs in the parlor, Demy stood in the corner and surveyed the room. Demy let its robotic power levels go down to minimum. At minimum power, a robot could maintain a vigilant watch for seven or eight weeks without recharging its batteries.
Outside the flat, the city was reasonably quiet. A truck passed and reflected some light onto the curtains. Demy observed the pale light and shadows increasing and decreasing along the floor beneath the curtain folds. The moving light from outside created the illusion of a small mouse running along the floor. Demy’s optical sensors determined, with astonishing certainty, that there was no mouse present. This was disappointing. Demy would never kill a mouse, but the activity of catching a mouse could be wonderfully complex. Demy recalled catching a mouse five years ago and keeping it in a ‘mouse friendly habitat’ cage for seven weeks and four days while HC determined where the mouse should be released. Robots, of course, don’t have anything as emotional as a desire, but the truth be known, Demy would rather be catching a mouse than standing vigilant watch over the parlor. Demy understood that the time was passing correctly for the inertial frame that planet earth was in, but that understanding said nothing about when the boys would return. Demy opened its internal radio to a classical music station.
The radio station played and compared all four of Beethoven’s Leonore overtures and was halfway through the seventh symphony, when Demy detected a key opening the front door. In an instant, Demy read Angie’s bedroom and saw that she was now asleep. Demy powered up and walked to the door. “Be quiet, please be quiet. I think your sister is now asleep.”
“Oh man, Demy, you didn’t have to stay up for us. We got a key.”