by John Purcell
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We entered the Blue Room to find Bim and Dr. Nightingale chatting away. They were sitting side by side on the edge of the gigantic desk, Trip Savage grinning over their shoulders. She had the earpieces of her stethoscope in place and Bim was speaking into the cone at the other end. Whatever he was saying made her giggle.
They were both alarmed to see me walk in with a JaniTron. They hopped down from the desk, ready for trouble. Thomas and I stopped a safe distance away.
I said, “You can relax. Thomas isn’t a LobeBot.” I turned to Moto. “You can vouch for him, right, Moto?”
She wagged her tail. That was good enough for Bim.
Dr. Nightingale was still wary. “If he’s not a LobeBot, then what is he?”
“Believe it or not, he’s actually a MediTron.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Is he really? What a remarkable find!” She turned to Thomas. “I’m pleased to meet you. What are you doing here in DC?”
Thomas said, “I don’t know yet. I just escaped from Baltimore last night.”
Her expression changed to puzzlement.
I said, “The whole situation is complicated. Can we sit down somewhere?”
Dr. Nightingale rearranged some of the antiques and we sat in a circle as I filled her in and brought Bim up to date. Eventually, she excused herself and went off on her rounds, disappearing into the Red Room.
We turned our attention to the coming day.
Thanks to Thomas, Bim and I now had enough information to make a real plan. As we talked things through, we hit upon a way for Thomas to get us into the Bank of America building. Then Bim brought up the fact that Thomas, Moto and I could all see in the dark, and pointed out that this could give us an advantage once we were inside. It was an excellent idea, but there was one problem: none of us had the faintest idea how Queen Scarlett got her electricity.
I was so engrossed in planning that I lost track of time again. Bim had to remind me that it was almost 9:30 PM. I hastily picked out a bed in the Green Room and climbed into it. Moto curled up at my feet. Bim chose a bed, as well, and Thomas sat down with him so they could continue talking.
They’re still talking right now. It makes me wish I could stay up with them. And music is floating in from the East Room, more rhythmic and dissonant than ever. It’s easy to imagine Luma and Dogan dancing the night away, whirling arm in arm around the room.
Shutting down suddenly appeals to me.
Entry complete.
Part Four: Baltimore