Something Fishy

Chapter 6: Robots?!

     In case you’ve never followed a complete stranger down a tunnel, let me tell you this – it felt strangely exciting. Even though part of me (remember Panicky Me?) was urging me to run, another part (Adventurer Me) was jumping up and down in excitement. The combination felt rather weird, but not entirely unpleasant. I was curious to know what was going on down here, and this guy could answer all my questions!

    Of course, that did not mean he necessarily would.

    “Here we are,” The Boss said abruptly. I looked up. The tunnel ended in a wall again. However, there was no hole large enough for us to fit through in this one, unless one of us happened to be able to shrink to the size of mouse and fit through the tiny hole halfway up the wall.     

      “So, what do you plan on – ” began Cassidee, but she fell silent as The Boss reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a screwdriver, two screws, and a doorknob. He screwed the doorknob into the in the wall, turned it, and the tunnel door swung open like a giant round door.

     “You got to admit, that’s pretty cool,” I whispered to Ron out of the side of my mouth.

     “Follow me, children,” said The Boss.

      Stepping through the doorway was not unlike waking up from a really weird dream – only to find yourself in an even weirder situation. For we now were standing in what appeared to be a Victorian-era living room.

     The Boss, seemingly oblivious to our shock, unscrewed the doorknob and put it back in his pocket. Well, either he was oblivious or he didn’t care. Behind us, the tunnel door swung closed, making it impossible to tell that it had ever been there.

     The Boss went across the room and sat on a floral-printed couch. As though we weren’t even there, he snapped his fingers and shouted, “Tea, Basil!”

   “Yes, sir.” came a muffled voice from another room.

     The Boss looked over at us, seeming almost surprised to see us standing there. “Come, sit,” he said.

     “Er, alright,” I said. The three of us shuffled over and sat on an identical floral-printed couch opposite the one The Boss was seated on.

     “So –” began Cassidee, but The Boss shook his head.

     “We will talk later. First, the tea.”

     So we waited. And waited.

     “How long does it take to make a pot of tea?” The Boss complained under his breath. “Basil, you’d better hurry up!”

     “Coming!”

     A moment later, a man burst through the door. He ran across the room and deposited a pot of tea, a t-shirt, and a piece of paper that had been sloppily torn into the shape of a letter ‘T’.

     The Boss put his face in his hand.

     “What is it, sir?”

     “Tea, Basil! T-e-a, as in a beverage! You should know that by now!”

     Basil blinked, his face blank. “I’m sorry, sir. You know that I have not been programmed to recognize the meaning of a word based on context.”

     “Programmed?” I blurted.

     Everyone turned and looked at me.

     “Are these the children you mentioned, sir?” asked Basil.

      “Indeed,” said The Boss, nodding curtly. “Children, meet my personal slave, Basil.”

      “What do mean, slave?” I said uneasily. The reality of our situation was dawning on me, and I was beginning to freak out. “Slavery is illegal, you know –”

     “Never fear, child. Basil is a robot.”

      Ron, Cassidee, and I all gaped at him.

        The Boss shrugged nonchalantly. “He’s really not that marvelous. Nothing like those fancy robot you see in science fiction movies. He’s rather stupid, actually. You have just witnessed for yourselves his inability to assume how a word is meant depending on the context. Also, as evidenced by the fact that he tore the letter T from a piece of paper, he has forgotten that he has scissors built into his hand.”

      “I do?” Basil examined his hand as though it was a strange and marvelous creature that had alighted on his wrist. “You mean like Edward Scissorhands?”

      The Boss rolled his eyes. “More like a pocketknife.”

     “Oh,” said Basil.

      “Is that what you’re manufacturing down here?” I asked.

      The Boss looked over at me. “Come again?”

     “Are you making Basils- er, robots in that factory?”

      “Actually, he’s making –” began Basil.

     “Basil! Hush it!” The Boss barked. Then he turned back towards us and smiled. “I’m afraid that I cannot tell you that.”

     “So you just dragged us down here to give us tea and show us your robot?”

     The Boss looked a bit startled, and with good reason. For it was Ron who had just spoken.

      “I do believe that’s the first I have heard from you, boy,” he said. “Not much for talking, are you?”

      Ron glared at him. “You’re stalling,” he said reproachfully. “You’ve got something to tell us, but you aren’t telling it.”

      This had to be the most I had heard out of Ron at any one time!

     The Boss sighed dramatically and massaged his forehead with his hand. “Basil, please take them away. I’ve had enough of them for the time being. I don’t want to see them until tomorrow.”

      “Yes, sir,” said Basil.

     “I’ve never been much for children. Too messy and juvenile – ”

     “We’re not children!” said Cassidee huffily.

      “And too noisy!” finished The Boss. He stood and stomped out of the room.

      “Come along,” said Basil timidly.

      “He’s barmy!” I cried. “Totally barmy!” (My British side tends to come out when I’m upset.)

      “I’m sorry, I don’t know the meaning of that word,” said Basil.

      I shook my head. “Never mind.” He was, after all, an American robot.

     “The Boss has made special accommodations for you in the guest suites,” said Basil, leading us down a hallway. “Girls, you’re staying in here. Boy, you’re across the hallway.”

     “Are you inviting us to stay, or forcing us to?” I asked.

     Basil blinked. “Forcing, I suppose.”

      “Auugh!” I cried. What had I gotten us into?