riley doesn't think dum-e should be on fire safety
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"you don't want to be on fire safety?" my dad asked me.
(for the billionth time)
"no, i don't." i answered, helping him hook up his boots, and flight stabilizers.
"it's you or dum-e," he told me.
"i don't think dum-e is qualified to be on fire safety," i answered honestly, fixing his flight stabilizers.
he gave me look, "then you have to do it."
"but i don't want to. besides, dum-e loves using the fire extinguisher," i stepped back as i finished the last strap.
"fine," he muttered defeated.
"u, start rolling," i ordered the other a.i. arm.
butterfingers sat next to me with a bowl of candy. i took some, and started eating. i left my hair out, and i was dressed in comfort clothes for the day. i put my feet up on a stool.
my dad turned to the camera, "day 11, test 37, configuration 2.0. for lack of a better option, dum-e is still on fire safety. if you douse me again, and i'm not on fire, i'm donating you to a city college."
i snorted at my dad's threat. he always says this to his mechanical arms, but he never actually does it. he's kept them for over two decades, ever since he built them at m.i.t.
my dad looked over at u, "all right, nice and easy. seriously, just gonna start off with 1% thrust capacity. and three, two, one."
"oh my gods!" i gasped getting up.
it was working. my dad was hovering in the air, a few feet off the floor. he remained in the air, in control (it looked like he was surfing) for a few more seconds before landing.
"holy shit! that was amazing!" i exclaimed.
"i know!!" my dad called out.
dum-e was following my dad around with the fire extinguisher, and my dad turned to look at him.
