Tagged: robot

The Gruff-Voiced Individual

  • by jenI like a good montage
  • I’m like, Hey! A little privacy here!
  • buckle the fuck up
  • the bird in the paper bag
  • his undershirts snap at the crotch

Tune in next time part 615      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The gruff-voiced individual appeared from behind the door of the minifridge and stood to his full height. He was wearing a fluorescent green wig and sharing a palm-tree-shaped bikini with another similarly bewigged man.

“Bandits,” Tessa whispered.

This underground adventure had been going on so long, it was getting tedious. I like a good montage from time to time, so I’ll employ one now.

Tessa gives me a taste of my own medicine by doffing her clothes and pouncing on Uncles Gramophone and Daguerreotype. I use the bathroom (I forgot to do that when I was in the actual outhouse) and get walked in on by a different set of Uncles, and I’m like, Hey! A little Privacy here! and they’re like, This is our bathroom, bub! Buckle the fuck up and get the fuck out! and I hurry out and find Tessa in the position we call The Bird in the Paper Bag, and Tessa tells the uncles not to be jealous because “his undershirts snap at the crotch” and I get so embarrassed I run down the tunnel without her, all the way to Twerkistan, while she just laughs and kisses all the uncles.

End of montage.

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The Four Uncles

  • by jendrive your dreams!
  • huddling together for warmth
  • enjoyed a few hours’ sleep
  • wipe it on the doorknob
  • just like after a parade

Tune in next time part 613      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The four uncles gathered around me, purring and sweaty. It was a sight to drive your dreams! We did our cool-down exercises and ended up in a pile on the floor, huddling together for warmth. I dropped off and enjoyed a few hours’ sleep, but was awakened abruptly by the robotic facsimile of my true love tugging insistently at my ankle. I wanted to rub my eyes, but my hand was quite a mess.

“Why don’t you wipe it on the doorknob?” the grumpy Tessabot hissed. “Isn’t that what they taught you at the Academy? Like after prom, or after health class, or just like after a parade of debauchery you called Homecoming?”

I crawled gingerly out of the pile of uncles, doing my best not to disturb them. They must be at least as exhausted as I was.

“Why are you so mad?” I demanded. “You’re the one who used me as a diversionary tactic while you made your escape. And what doorknob are you talking about? There are no doorknobs in this tunnel.”

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I Fought to Remain Conscious

  • by jenreferred to by the much cooler moniker
  • dressing provocatively, singing provocative songs
  • helium balloon with a rainbow
  • pulled my hair really hard
  • my vision is clear

Tune in next time part 607      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I fought to remain conscious as John’s airborne sedative worked through my system. As the inventor, he tried to make everyone at the Academy call it “John Juice,” and hated when it was referred to by the much cooler moniker of my own invention: “Sleepytime Spray.” As his lab partner in The Chemistry of Spycraft, I helped John a lot during the testing of his concoction, dressing provocatively, singing provocative songs, and otherwise distracting our fellow students so John could sneak up and thrust a (presumed) helium balloon with a rainbow on the side in their faces, and pop it. Of course, the balloons weren’t filled with helium at all, but with Sleepytime Spray. Once he had the sedation chemistry dialed in, he just had to find a different means of deployment, as everyone in the biz had come to fear balloons with rainbows. Obviously he’d settled on this disgusting saliva trigger.

But what John didn’t know was that I wasn’t Jason. I was Jason’s twin brother, practically a co-inventor of the wretched substance, and over our time developing it, I had cultivated a near-immunity to its effects. All I needed was one good dose of pain and I’d snap out of it. I slowly reached up and pulled my hair really hard.

“My vision is clear,” I told the inert Tessa. “In another moment I’ll be able to stand. Blink if you can hear me.”

But she did not blink.

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“I’m Not Fond of the Smell in Here”

  • by jenenhanced by the extreme slipperiness
  • Then again, maybe it’s the perfect place
  • the librarians themselves did not have the slightest idea
  • where these fingertips came from
  • to believe in magic

Tune in next time part 593    Click Here for Earlier Installments

“I’m not fond of the smell in here,” I said as my nose wrinkled. “Twerkistan is primitive as cities go, but it’s got to be better than this poop shack.”

I opened the door and stepped out into a burst of sleet, which, enhanced by the extreme slipperiness of the Bumpbengryndian snow, dumped me on my ass. I grabbed the doorframe and pulled myself back in, saying, “Then again, maybe it’s the perfect place to ride out this storm.”

Tessa slammed the door closed. I stripped off my now-soaked clothes and began the very slow process of drying them by the heat of the miserly oil lamp. Tessa took up the newspaper that was on hand for use in butt-wiping, and read to me an article about a gruesome discovery at the Twerkistan public libraries. “The librarians themselves did not have the slightest idea where these fingertips came from, or whose they were. But they quickly grew tired of finding them in the card catalog drawers every morning. Usually not ones to believe in magic, they made an exception and called upon a local wizard for help. After his visit, there were no more fingertips in the card catalog. Instead they were found, first thing each day, stuck to the keyboard of the public computer.”

A shiver ran down my spine — not one caused by the icy conditions outside. “Fingertips! You know what that means.”

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“None of Us Know”

  • by Kentweird hiccup action
  • spontaneous in origin and artistically harmonized
  • Are you two brothers?
  • kinda fun, in a spill-proof way
  • slaughter any scouting parties we encountered

Tune in next time part 592    Click Here for Earlier Installments

“None of us know exactly how many others exist,” the Tessabot explained. “We’ve just run into each other now and then and shared info. My nickname is…” She rolled her eyes. “Do I have to tell you?”

I nodded.

Her voice dropped so much I could barely hear her say it. “The Toot Fairy.”

“Did you say ‘Tooth Fairy’?” I asked hopefully.

“No, the Toot Fairy,” she repeated. Each time she said the name there was some kind of weird hiccup action on the word ‘toot.’ She sighed. “There’s no real system to the nicknames; our goal was for them to be spontanous in origin and aritistically harmonized.”

“How about if I keep calling you Tessa?”

She nodded gratefully. “Even though it does sometimes give me an identity crisis.”

“That I can relate to,” I said. “Having a twin. As kids we seldom went around together, but anytime we did people would see us and ask, ‘Are you two brothers?‘”

She laughed.

I said, “We really do need to reach Twerkistan. Never mind the photographer, it’s a matter of basic survival.”

“Speak for yourself. I can last indefinitely in the wilderness. Being a TSS-A Unit has its advantages, and can be kinda fun, in a spill-proof way.”

“Spill-proof? And here I was counting on you to slaughter any scouting parties we encountered on the way.”

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The Isles of Bumpengrynd Were so Small

  • by jenwasn’t on any contemporary maps
  • a dismal little oil lamp
  • her American counterpart, Dr Roverpants
  • through brute force and righteous anger
  • every modeling agency, every dance academy

Tune in next time part 591    Click Here for Earlier Installments

The Isles of Bumpengrynd were so small and remote that the capital city, Twerkistan, wasn’t on any contemporary maps you could find on the internet. So of course this desolate rest stop lit only by a dismal little oil lamp was utterly vacant. The Tessabot sighed and plopped down on the primitive toilet. “Why are we even chasing this photographer?” she asked.

“To stop him from selling the pictures he took of us.”

“Why does it even matter? You can deny everything. You have a twin and no one will be able to tell which T-SSA Unit I am.” She went on to tell me about her American counterpart, Dr Roverpants, a Tessabot I had never met. That made at least three of them, and this Tessabot had ridiculous nicknames for the other two. Dr Roverpants, through brute force and righteous anger, took over every modeling agency, every dance academy, and the majority of the escort services in Miami. The one she called Professor Twinkletush was the one I’d seen thrown off a rooftop in Valentine Village.

“How many of you are there?”  I asked. “And what do the others call you?”

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Dashing Through the Snow With a Robot

  • by jenleft to the mercies of savage beasts
  • stand on the equatorial line
  • all of them ablaze
  • midnight gardeners
  • how many woodchucks

Tune in next time part 589    Click Here for Earlier Installments

Dashing through the snow with a robot simulacrum of my true love by my side reminded me strongly of senior prom at the Academy. As per tradition, everyone in the running for Prom King and Queen were taken by helicopter to a remote wintry location and left to the mercies of savage beasts. The first male and female students to make it back to the Academy and stand on the equatorial line in the courtyard would be crowned prom royalty.

That year, Tessa (the true, human Tessa) and I were the winners. I remembered with pride the two of us ascending to our thrones, surrounded by great bonfires, all of them ablaze with leaping blue flames. I could still hear the Academy’s midnight gardeners debating how many woodchucks it took to chuck wood for so many fires.

I knew the answer, of course. I was the Prom King.

I still remembered the answer to that riddle, but I doubted it would do me much good in my current circumstances.

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Tessa Knew How to Operate a Motorcycle

  • by jen— mind the lobsters —
  • socks that my dad fixed
  • look into your eyes again
  • evidence-schmevidence
  • psychedelic detective story

Tune in next time part 581    Click Here for Earlier Installments

Tessa knew how to operate a motorcycle. It was everything else about driving that she seemed ignorant of. I found myself shouting directions from the sidecar like some kind of terrible backseat driver. “Yield to pedestrians — stay in your lane — mind the lobsters — use your turn signal!”

Suddenly the Viscount shimmered into view in the deep end of the tub. “Ah, good, you’re back,” he said. He raised his feet and held them in front of my face. “Do you like these socks that my dad fixed to the end of my pant legs? It’s to stop me from losing them. I’m afraid they might look silly. What do you think? Tell me the truth. I’ll know if you’re lying when I look into your eyes again and see the evidence.”

“Evidence-schmevidence,” I said. “This isn’t some kind of psychedelic detective story.”

Tessa looked at me quizzically.

“Eyes on the road!” I yelled.

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Brandita Gathered the Chapstick Tubes

  • by jenHe is a stupid fool
  • copying Mother Nature isn’t always the best approach
  • all he kept was the duffle bag
  • elbows tight against my sides
  • , and the dance begins

Tune in next time part 577    Click Here for Earlier Installments

Brandita gathered the chapstick tubes we’d been using during the Baron’s demonstration, and placed them reverently back in their ceremonial box. All the while, the Baron stared at the postcard, crossing and uncrossing his eyes, blinking one and then the other, and otherwise making a great show of squinting officiously. He is a stupid fool, I thought, at least when it comes to codes. Even with so many clues he still could not decipher the message.

Tessa tapped her foot impatiently. “Are we getting off this island, or what?”

Von Dimpleheimer sneered at her. “The man who built you should have realized that copying Mother Nature isn’t always the best approach, but it seems that when god was handing out engineering smarts, all he kept was the duffle bag.”

“Hey!” I said. “There’s no reason to be rude!”

The Baron swiveled his head to me. He arched one bushy eyebrow. “I am not insulting your lovely robot, just the man who made her. All TSS-A Units are adept cryptographers. The feature is supposed to be well-hidden, but is actually easy to access.”

He directed Tessa to stand close in front of me, arms around my waist, elbows tight against my sides. “And now,” he said, “the music starts, and the dance begins, and the TSS-A Unit’s linguistics operations are mine to exploit.” He turned the crank on his victrola. “I’ll have that postcard decoded in no time.”

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“I’m Plenty Sleep-Deprived”

  • by jenmy French is *shocking*
  • could give you a turnip
  • basically moving garlic juice around my mouth
  • denied that he had any plans to leave his wife
  • short of getting pregnant or deliberately getting in trouble

Tune in next time part 543     Click Here for Earlier Installments

“I’m plenty sleep-deprived,” I said.

Tessa told Jason to hang onto Arlo’s ankle, then faced me and stared into my eyes. She started murmuring in French, and while my French is shockingly bad for someone educated in a boarding school, I was able to follow most of what she said as she adjusted her alpha waves to sync up with mine. It was oddly hypnotic.

Or perhaps actually hypnotic. The next thing I knew, I was awakening from a trance and Tessa was smiling like a cat who could give you a turnip, but has chosen not to. Obviously she had deciphered the secret message in her memory banks. She gave me a wink, and then turned to the viscount who was still writhing in the damp grass.

“Arlo, I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure, but kissing you is as enjoyable as basically moving garlic juice around my mouth. And I’m allergic to garlic.”

Arlo sniveled, “I can’t believe you’re leaving me for him!” (indicating me). “He’s married, you know, and he has frequently denied that he had any plans to leave his wife!”

“That doesn’t matter,” Tessa said. “Because I’m a robot, and short of getting pregnant or deliberately getting in trouble with the laws of reality some other way, I don’t have to worry about petty human emotions, such as love.”

Even knowing this wasn’t the true Tessa, it hurt to hear her say such things.

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