Tagged: robot

I Had Never Met These Salamanders Before

  • by jenand then the palm of his hand
  • burbling stereophonic sound
  • armed with an avocado
  • They hiss.
  • matrimonial energy

Tune in next time part 923      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I had never met these salamanders before, but the two of them gave off a strong matrimonial energy. Do salamanders marry? They hiss. They eat worms that have been warmed with an avocado dressing. They make a mysterious burbling stereophonic sound when they are plotting against me. But do they enter into binding legal contracts as couples? For the life of me I couldn’t remember.

“Rub the pill on his fingertip and then the palm of his hand,” the husband-salamander said.

“It needs to go in his mouth,” his amphibious wife replied exasperatedly. She sounded a lot like my own wife.

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“Bjorn, I Presume?”

  • by Kentit feels a bit… forced.
  • the Queen’s public image isn’t exactly one of wild frivolity
  • smell anything out of the ordinary?
  • moved there two years ago to join a cult
  • conducts disturbing hot dog experiments

Tune in next time part 918      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Bjorn, I presume?” I asked through clenched teeth. I was still under the nanobot swarm’s control, but having reached my destination it seemed that their hold on me relaxed.

“I didn’t give you permission to speak,” was the reply.

“Yet speak I can, even if — like a lot of things around here — it feels a bit… forced.” Whoever was hiding in the shower, he obviously had the phone with the control app that I desperately needed. I stalled for time while I tried to think of ways to get it from him. “How’s your sister these days?”

“She’s fine. Quite giddy actually, even though the Queen’s public image isn’t exactly one of wild frivolity. I’ve just come from one of her secret parties; smell anything out of the ordinary?”

Ursula was Queen of Colloquillia? That was impossible. I kept up with political news. I knew all about the Queen, how she was an outlander who’d moved there two years ago to join a cult that conducts disturbing hot dog experiments, and wound up running it in a week and then parlayed that into running the whole country. Her name wasn’t Ursula, it was… Her name was…

Why couldn’t I remember that name?

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The Stairs Continued Up For Several More Flights

  • by jen“What color are your panties?”
  • pop his gum annoyingly
  • No, I still hate him.
  • important landmark
  • in a bathroom with an anchor

Tune in next time part 917      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The stairs continued up for several more flights, until I was sure I must be nearing the summit of the summit facility. Unbidden, my hand turned the knob on the only door and I found myself in a bathroom with an anchor-shaped toilet and a porthole-shaped mirror. The Nautical Restroom is an important landmark in any Colloquillian public building. This one being full of salamanders meant it was consecrated, and I shouldn’t enter.

But enter I did, compelled by the nanobots coursing through my system. I tangoed over to the very complicated toilet and relieved myself. You might think that I would be grateful to my puppeteer for allowing me to empty my bladder, and providing the knowledge on the workings of such obscure plumbing. No, I still hate him. I imagine he’s the kind of guy to pop his gum annoyingly while you’re trying to read, the kind of guy who asks perfect strangers, “What color are your panties?” and acts offended when they act offended. I didn’t want someone like that handling my junk, even if they were using me as a proxy.

I washed my hands in the clamshell sink.

“At last, we meet again,” came a voice from behind the seaweed shower curtain.

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I Always Trust My Instincts

  • by jentwice as much poop
  • she’s one queenly lady
  • brother was not happy
  • he’s definitely dodgy
  • but you are the exception

Tune in next time part 915      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I always trust my instincts, and things usually work out well. There are times, though, when I land in a world of poop. And the fact that the nanobots controlling me wouldn’t even let me think of the other, nastier, word for poop meant that I was in twice as much poop as I’d thought just a moment ago.

Poop.

I could think of only one person who would program such prudish nanobots. Her name’s Ursula, and she’s one queenly lady. That I could now remember her meant that at least one part of my plan had worked. I wasn’t sure I was better off, though. Remembering Ursula meant also remembering Bjorn, and that was dangerous. Back at the Academy, Ursula’s brother was not happy that she was spending time with me. I’m not sure if you’ve ever heard of Bjorn, but he’s definitely dodgy, devilish, and downright dangerous. I don’t remember how he altered my memory to make me forget I ever met his sister, but clearly he did.

My dancing feet twirled me around, and my sultry strut carried me away from the slippery tiled stairs. My eyes darted to every corner, hoping to spot whoever was controlling me. Just because Ursula programmed the bots didn’t mean she was still in charge.

“Ah, Ursula,” I said, utterly without intending to. “I thought that there was no one who could make me forget Tessa, but you are the exception.”

Who the fudge was controlling my mouth?

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The Pharma-Man Stared at the Television

  • by jenpainfully tuneless
  • be your righthand man
  • “I’d salute, but I’d start bleeding again.”
  • dive into the secrecy
  • the opposite of “mindblowing”

Tune in next time part 913      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The pharma-man stared at the television screen and hummed a painfully tuneless little song which I recognized as the hold music used by Fleur’s father, the Warlord of Contraria. To know that tune so well, the pharma-man must spend a lot of time on the phone, waiting to talk to my father-in-law. Unless it was the nanobots riddling his system that were playing the song?

I mumbled, “Maybe your righthand man is really a righthand army-of-microscopic-robots, eh, Warlord?”

From the corner of my eye I saw the pharma rep reach for a knife.

“How dare you threaten a high-ranking member of the armed forces?” I growled. I’d almost called myself a “General,” but I wasn’t one anymore, and Fleur hadn’t told me my new rank.

The knife-wielding fellow said, “I’d salute, but I’d start bleeding again.” He cleared his throat and said, “I don’t have time to dive into the secrecy of my mission, sir. Suffice it to say we’re on the same side. The nanobots are desperate to leave my body. It’s all I can do to keep them from exploding out of my skull. If I cut my finger, they’ll have an exit.”

“But they’ll escape!” In order to harvest the nanobots in a way that was the opposite of “mindblowing” I had to act fast. “Hold your breath,” I said, and quickly encased the man’s head in several layers of foil.

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Of the Many Looks People have Given Me Over the Years

  • by jenspooky, grim, unearthly, and rebellious
  • “And I will cut off the sixth finger, this very day.”
  • wore a top hat over a hoodie
  • “The doorman knows your movements.”
  • foil-covered room

Tune in next time part 909      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Of the many looks people have given me over the years (spooky, grim, unearthly, and rebellious among them), furtive is my least favorite. I prefer to be the furtive one in any and all interactions. I turned my attention back to the nanobot app and entered the homing command again, paying careful attention to each glyph. During my Digital Mystic training, my partner and I devised a mnemonic song for remembering the purpose of each arcane squiggle. I could remember that much, but not who my partner had been. That must be a clue!

I stared at the glyphs and let my mind drift back. In my memories I saw a hand wearing a haptic glove with too many fingers. “I stole this from my brother,” a feminine voice said. “And I will cut off the sixth finger, this very day.”

Had I ever heard of anybody with six fingers who might have a sister named Ursula? The only six-fingered individual I could remember was someone who was kicked off the Academy’s beatnik team when he wore a top hat over a hoodie to a competition, but as far as I could remember he was an only child.

But could I trust my memory?

Stomping footsteps announced the pharma man’s approach, and with him the nanobots I needed to restore my faulty memory. I gave him a furtive look and whispered, “The doorman knows your movements.” His eyes went wide with fright.

To safely transfer the nanobots from the pharma man to myself, I would need a foil-covered room in which to work. This being a summit facility, there must be one nearby. “Follow me,” I said.

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I’d Learned to Tune Out Exhaustion

  • by Kentweird cotton candy grapes
  • how many dollars a live yeti could be sold for
  • “Oo, yeah. Robots.”
  • find you a new cloak
  • dark and sexy

Tune in next time part 884      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I’d learned to tune out exhaustion over the years, so it took a moment of deliberate reflection to assess my current state. Yeah, I was borderline delirious with lack of sleep. And, I was ravenously hungry. Functioning without nourishment is another skill one develops in the spy biz, but the key is to focus on the task at hand and deny your body’s basic physical imperatives, so now that I’d considered food I could think of nothing else. Alarmingly, the thing I craved was the weird cotton candy grapes they had in the commissary at Enigma Fortress. But perhaps that wasn’t so strange. My memories of my time in the Paradoxica Mountains were fond ones. That frozen landscape  seemed a place where I could be happy, especially if I didn’t have to be in command of the garrison. I might find out how many dollars a live yeti could be sold for. I might find a place to settle down with Tessa and/or her many robot duplicates.

Small Dennis said, “Oo, yeah. Robots.”

I had no idea how much I’d said out loud. If I couldn’t keep my shit together better than that, leaving the spy game wasn’t going to be optional. I chanced a look at Fleur. She was smiling. That always makes me nervous, but it looked like a kind smile.

“I could tell the captain to change course,” she said. “Drop you off at Enigma Fortress in a day or two, which gives us time to find you a new cloak, something dark and sexy.”

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“If You Don’t Want to Live by the Dictates of Robots”

  • by jenthe white fish of the Kentucky caves, for instance
  • Grandma was even worse
  • texture is almost mousse-like
  • To say that I don’t understand much of modern art
  • is like baking a cake without a pan

Tune in next time part 757      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“If you don’t want to live by the dictates of robots, Zeus Pamplemousse,” I asked, “why did you appoint them to all the posts in the lunar government?”

“Because they don’t need oxygen, obviously,” he sneered. “There is no oxygen in my Moon Kingdom, as you would know if you had more brains than, say, the white fish of the Kentucky caves, for instance.”

My grandfather was very rude. Grandma was even worse. But neither of them held a candle to the arrogance of this man, this self-appointed Moon King who held my beloved Tessa hostage to his whims.

“Have you even been to the moon?” I asked.

“Of course! I personally placed all the robots in Parliamoont Hall. Mother Moon is a beautiful place, with immense gray expanses. The texture is almost mousse-like underfoot.”

To say that I don’t understand much about modern art is like baking a cake without a pan – completely incorrect. I understand a lot about modern art, and I was sure that arranging for a crowd of robots to argue about politics on the surface of the moon was the most audacious art installation of the modern era. Not that that would help me pry Tessa out the moon maniac’s arms.

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I Climbed Out of the Bathtub

  • by jenShhh, don’t tell anyone!
  • the chirps and squeals that he makes
  • As a fan of miniatures
  • overcoming my frog phobia with hypnosis
  • The only thing he never changed was his shoes.

Tune in next time part 747      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I climbed out of the bathtub with Tessa in my arms and carried her into the bedroom. I shut the door behind us for a little privacy.

“Where are your clothes?” I asked. “You should get out of here before Isolde comes back. I’ll meet you later.”

Tessa shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere until I get what I came for.” She ran her hand down my still-dripping torso and gave me a gentle squeeze. “We’ll be quick. Shhh, don’t tell anyone!” She pushed me onto the bed.

In the bathroom I heard splashing and giggles as Fleur played with the infants. “Tessa…”

“That son of yours is quite a happy fellow. Just ignore the chirps and squeals that he makes.” I found her argument quite persuasive as she climbed on top of me. I still didn’t know whether this was the true Tessa, or one of the TSS-A units. If it was a robot, it was impeccably programmed to move just like my beloved. It also shared her penchant for awkwardly timed announcements. “As a fan of miniatures in general, I should find babies adorable, but they remind me so much of frogs.” This was said as she arched her back just so. “I’ve been overcoming my frog phobia with hypnosis, though, with the help of a very qualified therapist. Or I was anyway, before he went missing. He changed my mind about holding grudges, he changed my whole outlook on revenge. He changed so many things! The only thing he never changed was his shoes.” She gave an exultant cry and collapsed onto my chest. Her next words were muffled by my chest hair. “You can imagine how alarming it was when I arrived for my appointment and he wasn’t there, but his Birkenstocks were.” She sat up and looked me in the eye. “Tell me you’ll help me find him.”

Before I could even ask any questions about this mysterious therapist, I heard footsteps in the hall outside my door. Had Isolde returned so soon?

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When You Picture the Ensuite Bathroom

  • by jenone of those quiet, picturesque places
  • an unfettered clusterfuck
  • unless they hug me first
  • saving up for a pet snake
  • odd and possibly charming

Tune in next time part 745      Click Here for Earlier Installments

When you picture the ensuite bathroom of a General’s stateroom on a Royal Contrarian airship, I’m sure you envision one of those quiet, picturesque places full of bamboo and soothing colors where one can relax after a long day of Generalizing. Would that it were. My ensuite bathroom was about to host an unfettered clusterfuck if my wife discovered Tessa in the tub with us. Fleur and I have an understanding, but that only goes so far. I haven’t reviewed the paperwork in a while, but I’m pretty sure that I’m not supposed to have anyone else join us in the bathtub unless they hug me first and curtsey to her. Tessa had, in fact, thrown herself upon me with all the fervency of someone who’d spent years saving up for a pet snake only to arrive at the reptilarium on two-for-one day. That surely counted as a hug. But she had not curtsied to Fleur. Perhaps she could do so now? There was a chance Fleur would find the gesture odd and possibly charming enough to forgive the breach in etiquette. It might be our only chance, since it seemed she was never planning to exit the tub. It also might backfire spectacularly.

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