by David Poland
“No, not really.” Carl wasn’t the least bit afraid of her. She was his only sister and he really liked her. He truly cared about what she thought. “This is a really old gasoline powered bike. It predates the electric ones.”
“When it was built doesn’t make any difference,” she said. “I asked you to help Tommy find a good electric motorcycle, something that was built for a man. I don’t want some smelly gasoline thing around here.”
“We looked at the BMWs, but they were way too expensive. Tommy found this one for free. All we got to do is get it running.”
“So I leave for a few weeks and this is what you do. Hello there, Jackson, the smell of gasoline told me you’d be here.” Her eyes shifted to Carl. “Tell me Carl, will this improve your game of chess.” Demy had stepped onto the landing just behind Angie. Demy folded its arms the same way Angie often did and watched with fascination. Angie looked at each of them carefully. “And Paycheck! Look at you. Look at your hands. They’re covered with oil. You’re just as bad as they are. I really would have expected something more from you. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Yes ma’am, my hands are covered with oil. This job is absolutely fascinating. Jackson is showing us the correct techniques and we are working to the very highest standards.” The robot continued with enthusiasm. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“You’re hopeless, Paycheck. You’re just as bad as they are.” Angie focused her attention on Tommy. “Does Captain Dax know what you’re doing in here?”
“Sure enough. He’s even been by here and I told him I was makin’ some Connecticut art for the flowerbed. You see, you got to be able to start the engine if you want to scare them birds away. And ol’ Daxy said to me, you got one wheel and you got Connecticut art. You get yourself two wheels and you got a motorcycle and I’ll throw you in the box. So believe you me, I got me only one wheel and this here is Connecticut art.”
Angie was a civilized woman, but she could growl through her gritted teeth. “Paycheck, where are you hiding the front wheel?”
“Tommy does not have a front wheel or a front tire. He is also missing the cable control lines and the front brake assembly. We understand that Tommy may not procure the missing items until he has a motorcycle drivers license.”
Angie could see this project had been evolving for weeks. There was no word or two that would make it go away. Frustrated, she pushed Demy aside and went back into the hallway where she could see what they would do next.
Demy stepped forward on the landing. “I will have dinner ready in just twenty minutes. Jackson, it is so nice to see you. Can you stay for dinner? We have plenty to share.”
“Yes, indeed. The dude told me you’re a dynamite cook.”
“Thank you Tommy, I’ll try to live up to your compliment. Now pay attention to the time. Please clean up the area, and wash yourselves up. Carl, look at your shirt. You had better put on a clean one before dinner. Remember to close the garage door when you come in. Paycheck, I think it would be best for you to go down to the robot shop and get a deep clean for your hands and arms, and have them check your feet, too. I don’t want any oil on my carpets.” Demy turned back into the house without another word.
Angie didn’t remember Demy ever being quite so assertive. In an instant she realized the dinner would give her a chance to get to the bottom of this. She had after all, been gone twelve weeks. Angie stepped back out on the landing and considered Jackson. “So you’re the master mechanic?”
“Yes ma’am,” answered Jackson proudly.
“Does this piece of modern art need electricity to start?”
“It doesn’t have an electric starter. You have to kick it to start it,” said Jackson. “This baby will burn any kind of gasoline you can find. Buying the gas should be no problem at all.”
“Oh, that’s just great,” said Angie. She turned her attention to Carl. “We talked about this before I left.”
“Yes, we did, and Tommy and I checked out the bikes at BMW, but they said they wouldn’t even show us the used bikes until Tommy had his drivers license.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard,” she scoffed. “Now you listen to me, all four of you. You get cleaned up for dinner like Demy said and we’ll sort this out.” Angie turned back into the hallway and closed the door behind her. Paycheck wiped his hands clean with a shop towel and walked outside heading for the robot shop. The project was going so well that Angie’s critical words had no effect on their high spirits. Feeling the best of friends, the three young men started cleaning up the garage. Their spirits were so high that they all started laughing.
Chapter Eight
While shopping in the city, Angie saw several men Tommy’s age enjoying motorcycles. She knew that neither Tommy nor Carl fully approved of the way she kept their house, but they made concessions to her because they really were a family and they wanted to keep it that way. She also cared about her brothers and realized it was her turn to give a little.
Jackson and Carl could rebuild anything with wheels, but Tommy was going to need a driver’s license. Yes, she thought, that is what I can do for him. She stopped at the DMV on her way home and picked up the booklets he would need to learn. She couldn’t remember Tommy ever studying for a test. If he was going to pass it, he would need her help.
Inside the flat, Demy told her the boys were in the garage with Paycheck and Jackson. This was no surprise. When she entered, the big door was open. She closed the hallway door behind her and stayed on the landing to watch.
The motorcycle was still missing its front wheel and its seat but no longer looked like a rusting antique. The burgundy midnight paint job was better than anything the bike had ever had. Not to be outdone by those Europeans, Paycheck had added black pinstripes in the very best places. This old thumper had never looks so good.
The motorcycle was on the floor. Paycheck was down on the floor, holding each of the front wheel forks with its powerful robot hands. Tommy and Carl had hold of the bike’s frame above the back wheel. Without a seat, the frame was easy to grab.
Jackson straddled the bike and lowered the kick-starter. “OK guys, let it lean a little to the left just like it had two wheels.” Jackson took hold of the handlebars and the control levers. He pulled the clutch lever in all the way and disengaged the transmission. “OK, hold tight.” He forced the engine to turn over with the kick-starter. It didn’t start but it sounded right. He could tell the engine had turned over. He kicked it again and again but no start.
“Turn it on and off a couple of times,” said Carl. “Maybe you don’t have contact through the switch.
Jackson took the suggestion and tried it again. This time there was a bang as the gasoline in the exhaust pipe exploded. Carl was apprehensive but Tommy loved it. Jackson kicked it once, twice, three times in a row and it fired. Jackson only ran the RPMs up to about a quarter speed and held it there. As the engine came back to life it blew black smoke that started to fill the garage.
Demy was now standing alongside Angie. “Turn down the smoke,” yelled Angie. “You’re creating enough smog to choke the whole city.”
There was nothing Jackson could do but let it run. After just a minute or so, the smoke became almost invisible. The sound of the engine also became much smoother. When it smoothed out, Jackson shut it down.
Angie and Demy now cheered and clapped their hands. “Hey there Tommy-tom,” yelled Angie, “you got yourself some kinetic art there.”
“That’s the truth, dude,” said Jackson, “this thing is now kinetic. Listen, dude, I got to go now but you got to figure out how to pass that written test. Old Daxy made it pretty clear we can’t do anything more without you getting your license. I’d like to come by tomorrow and take another look at that switch. Can I come by about ten?”
“Oh, man, them doors are wide open to you. Come on by.”
“Great, I’ll see you tomorrow. Listen to me, dude. You got to get ready for that test. It�
�s no game. You don’t pass the test, and no license, and no bike.” Jackson went out to his motorcycle and then tore out the driveway.
Demy went back into the flat and Angie came on down the steps. She took a close look at the paint job. “The color is dazzling. Did you do this Carl?”
“No,” said Carl. “Paycheck, the amazing robot, did it. With all his amazing experience laying bricks, what did you expect?”
Paycheck knew Carl’s answer was a compliment, but it made no sense. The skills needed to build up the burgundy midnight paint job had nothing to do with laying bricks. Paycheck could only listen patiently hoping to hear something rational.
Angie narrowed her eyes looking at Carl. “I think you need to spend more time outside little brother, you may be playing too much chess.” Angie now focused her attention on Tommy. “Do you already have a DMV handbook?”
With Angie’s question, and her encouraging tone of voice, Tommy knew she had finally accepted the idea of his motorcycle. Just looking at her, he knew she could pass the test without even reading the book. “No, I didn’t have a chance to get one yet.”
“Somehow, I thought that might be the case. Coming home today I picked up two copies of the DMV motorcycle handbook. Next week you will pass the six-month mark, and HC will let you take the test and like Jackson said, you need that license before you can go any further.” She handed him one copy of the booklet.
“You gonna get a bike too?” Tommy was amazed that such a thing was even possible.
“No, Tommy-tom, but if this is what you really want to do, then I’m going to help you study for it.”
“Oh man, that’s really nice. I mean thank you much.” Tommy fell silent looking at the book. He knew that he couldn’t read well enough to study for a test. “Well,” he said rather sheepishly, “I guess I better go to my room, and see what this here thing says.”
“Nah,” said Angie using one of Tommy’s words. “You don’t have to do it alone. Let’s go into the dining room and do it together.”
Oh man, thought Tommy, she doesn’t really know how hard a test is for me. “I don’t take lots of tests like you do. I don’t know how to do this kind of stuff very well.”
“Well then, that’s a good reason to do it together. Let’s sit on opposite sides of the table.” She tapped his copy of the handbook as she walked by him. In the dining room, they each opened their copy of the handbook.
“OK, Tommy-tom,” she said as though they were about to play a game, “let’s have some fun with this. Now, I know you don’t do much reading on your job, so you’re probably a little rusty. In my case, I read all day long. What I want you to do, is read it aloud and I’ll fill in all the words you don’t know.”
“So what if you don’t know a word?”
She smiled. “That’s possible, bro and if I don’t know one, we’ll ask Carl the chess genius.”
“You mean, Carl, the electronic brain?” Tommy started to laugh. The words, electronic brain, always made him laugh, but he had to admit, the kid did a dynamite job getting his broken aluminum head cover welded. Carl was okay, and he probably knew the words Angie didn’t. Tommy started relaxing. Angie dear was okay too.
“Okay,” she said, “I’ll get you started. The word in bold capital letters, at the top of the page, is INTRODUCTION. Read it back to me then start.”
“INTRODUCTION,” he read. “This handbook supper mints the ”
“Not quite,” with sympathy, she stopped him gently. “The word is, supplements, you were very close. Do it again from the beginning.”
“INTRODUCTION, This handbook supplements the Homeland Care Driver Handbook concerning traffic laws, safe driving rules, and driver lenses.”
When Angie heard the word ‘lenses,’ she stopped him. “Not quite,” she said as took off her glasses. “A lens is a piece of curved glass.” She tapped one of the lenses of her glasses. “The word in the book is ‘license.’ You want to pass the test and get your driver’s license. Okay, read it again from the top.”
Tommy reread the sentence correctly and this time he smoothed out his pronunciation. As they proceeded, Angie treated each word he missed as something new, something he couldn’t possibly know. She made him feel like they were learning the new words together. He read on making fewer mistakes and realized, with Angie’s help, he could actually do this.
In another part of town, Captain Dax had parked his transport in the shade next to a park. Officially he was on a short break. Unofficially he was sound asleep and letting his transport keep track of the area. The AI unit in the transport knew that if something came up, the best way to awaken Captain Dax was roll backward and stop with a gentle jerk. In the past, the AI unit had discovered that if it talked to Captain Dax while he was asleep, Dax could answer without waking up.
The police transport was hailed over the robot radio. ‘Opening call to T- Dax 27-32-48, this is T-HC 533-790, do you copy?’
‘Greetings, comrade,’ responded Dax’s police transport. ‘I copy loud and clear. How may I help?’ The communication between the two AI units was electronic and could not be heard. Captain Dax slept on peacefully.
‘Heads up, comrade, I am bringing two Homeland Care inspectors to talk to Captain Dax. Is Captain Dax with you?’
‘Yes, comrade, but he is sleeping like a baby. When will we rendezvous?’
‘I estimate eight minutes, comrade.’
‘Would you take an alternate route and postpone our rendezvous?’
‘Yes, comrade. The next street over is blocked for construction. The delay is about seven minutes. Is fifteen minutes enough time?’
‘Yes, I will wake my charge now. Do you know the reason for the visit?’
‘Yes. Someone named Tommy, an individual without a driver’s license, may be in possession of an operational motorcycle and therefore be in violation of the law. Can you prompt Captain Dax to begin considering this situation? Humans do much better with topics they are prepared to talk about.’
‘Yes, comrade, I shall proceed with discretion. T-Dax 27-32-48 over and out.’ Dax’s transport began to roll backward slowly, then stopped with a gentle jerk. Dax woke up. “Captain Dax,” said the transport, “I saw a jogger in the park that reminded me of Tommy. Thinking of him, I recalled you and Ted discussing his salvaged motorcycle. Do you think he has put it in the flowerbed yet?”
Dax was waking slowly. “Yes, my friend, Tommy has an antique motorcycle.”
The transport could tell Captain Dax was not quite awake. “Oh, now, you’re testing me Captain. I do recall that Tommy does not have his driver’s license yet. Therefore, Tommy may not own a motorcycle, but he can fashion scrap iron into a sculpture. I wonder how his project is going?”
That last comment from the transport jogged Dax’s memory. He knew HC could be a threat and he didn’t trust them. His thinking sharpened. “Very good my friend,” said Dax. “We mustn’t fall into that trap. Perhaps it is time for us to look in on Tommy and his modern art.” Dax stepped off his transport and stretched. Tommy had better not have a front tire for that thing, he thought. Officer Dax walked into the park and took a cool drink from the fountain.
An official transport pulled up behind Dax’s transport and parked. The man and woman who stepped off were dressed in ordinary clothing. Ah yes, thought Dax, here comes Homeland Care. They met him on the sidewalk as he walked back.
“Good morning Mr. Dax,” said the woman. “I see you took our water in the park.”
“Yes,” answered Dax with satisfaction. “Since the last renovation, it is always cool and crystal clear.”
“How very good to hear,” she said with a smile. “Another example of how HC really can make a difference in the quality of life.” She waited for Dax to make some remark that would reaffirm how fortunate they all were to live under the guiding hand of Homeland Care. Dax said nothing more. “Well, of course, the quality of water is only one part of the quality of our city,” she continued. “Wouldn’t you agree Mr. Dax?”
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“Yes, indeed,” he answered, “and as sure as data processing, the water is very good.”
“Mr. Dax, we understand you are allowing an individual named Tommy, an individual without a driver’s license, to rebuild an antique motorcycle in his garage. If this is true, this individual is committing a misdemeanor, and you are implicated through benign neglect. If this is true, you sir, are in trouble.”
“It is consoling to see how diligent HC is in maintaining our body of fine laws,” answered Dax sincerely. “As you know, the master-auditing database shows the day that Tommy became the registered owner of an abandoned motorcycle. On that day Tommy recognized the antique as modern art. Are you aware of how he registered his salvage?”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Dax,” reassured the woman trying to diminish the aggression she could see building between the two men. “What worries us is that the provider robot for his family group has been to BMW and bought the kind of paint one would use for restoration.”
“That’s a tough call. Painting modern art is bound to look like painting a motorcycle, don’t you think?” Dax shrugged off the observation.
“Carl,” said the man, “the high school student in Tommy’s family group, took a broken aluminum casting from the motorcycle to his school shop. He then tricked Mr. Millikan, the shop teacher, into repairing the broken casting to operational standers. Not only that, he and the shop teacher even cut out new gaskets for it from the correct material. Don’t tell me about modern art, he’s rebuilding that bike, and without a license, he’s breaking the law!”
Dax didn’t like this guy. “I have been by Tommy’s garage and I laid down the law. I told Tommy as long as his salvaged metal had only one wheel it was modern art. I also told him if he even bought a front wheel, I’d have the bike confiscated. Now, if he and Carl, and even their robot want to take it apart and learn how to put it back together that’s their business. Frankly, I think messing around with it in their garage is a constructive activity. Surely HC would rather see them learn how an old motorcycle works, than have them spending their afternoons in a virtual-reality salon.”