K. Rowe's Blog, page 7
January 2, 2015
Servo 11:3
Servo 11:3
Being bedridden for nearly a week had its ups and downs. The upside was I had plenty of time to spend with Dad. The power cord for my tablet was stretched to the max, but I could keep it plugged in and resting on the edge of the bed. And the boxes of data sticks were tucked into the nightstand—within easy reach. I spent many hours listening to his log entries, my eyes closed, envisioning him sitting at his desk, how I’d seen him so many times in the evening after he came home from work. The more words I heard, the more I missed him, the more my resolve grew and I knew I had to bringing the bot back to life.The definite downside to being so ill was Grandma wasn’t about to let us out of the house. No trips to the frigid barn to work on the bot. I wanted to be well so I could continue my work. The bot’s memory core was still under my bed. I’d found an old shoebox and placed it inside to hopefully eliminate any suspicion Grandma might have when she was in our rooms. I could tell she didn’t like bots. Any mention I made of them received a glowering expression on her part. After a few times I decided it was just best to not say anything about what was going on in the barn. Perhaps she was in a state of ignorance is bliss, I can’t be sure. As I lie in bed, my head finally beginning to feel like it belonged to me again; I picked up my tablet and scrolled through my father’s log entries. I was listening to the year 2045. That was a very good year for father—he’d invented the cerebral actuation servo, or as he called it, CAS. It wasn’t anything special by today’s standards, but it revolutionized how a bot’s neural-electrical signals were fed throughout its body. Consisting of a very tiny motor and a of couple micro switches, the CAS was the main functioning system of the bot’s neural network. Earlier bots had a clunky system referred to as the neural gain feed. It consisted of thousands of tiny wires that ran all over the bot’s body. As a signal from the memory core was sent out, there was a single wire that ran to the part being moved. Needless to say, that when a bot was damaged, it was far too simple to accidently reconnect the wrong wires together and the bot would do strange things. Father told me one time he mixed up a couple of wires and the bot, instead of raising its arm, as instructed, would jump up and down! The CAS fixed those problems. It made my father famous in the world of robotics. I don’t really remember any of that; I was just three years old at that time. All I know is there were many elaborate parties we were taken to—Suz and me, and lots of fuss made of us. There is one faded memory I do have of a party: an older man picked me up, held me in his arms, and declared that I would be the next great robotics scientist. My father beamed with pride, I remember the smile on his face. He was so thrilled to hear that. I bet secretly he wished it would come true. Now, at this tender time in my life, I wanted so badly to please my father. I wanted him to be here with me as I made advances in his work. Could I? Well, not with the deplorable working conditions I had, and a bot that was ancient. Maybe after I was grown and found my way back to the Inner States, I’d get a job at Servidyne and pick up where he left off. That seemed like a million years and a million miles away right now. I sat motionless for a moment while contemplating the next installment of my father’s log. Ever so slowly, Rory and I had been rebuilding the old bot. At first we started at the top, but then realized that parts were hard to come by. So we took a different approach and started at the bottom by rewiring the legs and torso. That alone had wasted several months of precious time. I wanted desperately for the bot to function. There was something I wished to breathe into it.Sighing deeply, I rested my head against the headboard and clicked play.
“Log entry number 185. August 10th, 2045. Today was an excellent day. After three successful trials on the CAS, I’m ready to demonstrate it to Servidyne management. I think they will be very pleased with this new system…I have experienced one difficulty: the main drive actuator tends to stick once in a while—”
I giggled upon hearing this. In robotics history class at our former school, this was a test given to students. They were required to figure out the acceptable method for remedying the sticking servo. As the son of the inventor, it wasn’t exactly fair of me to ace the test having prior knowledge and expertise from the creator himself. My instructor was surprised that I had the answer—and the correct answer, so quickly. I guess she thought I was an absolute brain-child. But my short-lived glory was cut even shorter when father came to pick us up from school one day. My instructor immediately recognized him, and subsequent tests for me became increasingly difficult.
“I feel that with time and advancements in technology, the CAS will eventually become a thing of the past like the neural gain feed that my predecessor and mentor, Dr. William Benke, designed. His work in the field of robotics was years ahead of his time. I only wish I could have had more time spent with him before his untimely death.”
My heart froze. What did he just say? Untimely death? How convenient that seemed. A brilliant scientist dies before his time. Shivers went down my spine. This whole mysterious case just got even more mysterious. Had I stumbled into a conspiracy? Or was this just absolute coincidence? Knocking on my door snapped me into the real world. “Yes?” I called.“Can I come in?” Rory asked.“Yes.”The door opened and he wandered in, still looking pale from his bout with influenza. “What are you doing?”“Listening to Dad.”“Oh.” He climbed onto the bed. “Have you been able to access the bot’s memory core?”“Nope. I’ve tried with no luck. All I can think is we’re missing a part.”“Missing what? It looked like it was all there.”I set my tablet aside and sluggishly climbed from bed. My feet, upon reaching the floor, slowly gave way allowing the rest of my body to slouch miserably on the hardwood. Most of the aches had left me, but I was shattered from fighting the virus. Who would think that something so microscopic could wreak such havoc upon a life form thousands of times its size? With care, I inched under the bed and retrieved the shoe box. Normally it was barely a feather-weight, but in my compromised physical state, it felt like a brick of pure cobalt. I sat it on the bed and climbed back into my plush divan. My fingers rested on the edges of the box top. “If we are missing a part, it could be difficult to get.” Rory motioned for the core. “All that work would be for naught.” I handed it over. “Maybe not…”“What do you mean?”“Dagwood came by for a visit.”“Yeah, heard him.”“He’s got someone that has an old 108.”Rory perked up. “Really?”“A cousin or something. He said they get together often and next time he’s going to bring him over and introduce us.” “Excellent!”
Being bedridden for nearly a week had its ups and downs. The upside was I had plenty of time to spend with Dad. The power cord for my tablet was stretched to the max, but I could keep it plugged in and resting on the edge of the bed. And the boxes of data sticks were tucked into the nightstand—within easy reach. I spent many hours listening to his log entries, my eyes closed, envisioning him sitting at his desk, how I’d seen him so many times in the evening after he came home from work. The more words I heard, the more I missed him, the more my resolve grew and I knew I had to bringing the bot back to life.The definite downside to being so ill was Grandma wasn’t about to let us out of the house. No trips to the frigid barn to work on the bot. I wanted to be well so I could continue my work. The bot’s memory core was still under my bed. I’d found an old shoebox and placed it inside to hopefully eliminate any suspicion Grandma might have when she was in our rooms. I could tell she didn’t like bots. Any mention I made of them received a glowering expression on her part. After a few times I decided it was just best to not say anything about what was going on in the barn. Perhaps she was in a state of ignorance is bliss, I can’t be sure. As I lie in bed, my head finally beginning to feel like it belonged to me again; I picked up my tablet and scrolled through my father’s log entries. I was listening to the year 2045. That was a very good year for father—he’d invented the cerebral actuation servo, or as he called it, CAS. It wasn’t anything special by today’s standards, but it revolutionized how a bot’s neural-electrical signals were fed throughout its body. Consisting of a very tiny motor and a of couple micro switches, the CAS was the main functioning system of the bot’s neural network. Earlier bots had a clunky system referred to as the neural gain feed. It consisted of thousands of tiny wires that ran all over the bot’s body. As a signal from the memory core was sent out, there was a single wire that ran to the part being moved. Needless to say, that when a bot was damaged, it was far too simple to accidently reconnect the wrong wires together and the bot would do strange things. Father told me one time he mixed up a couple of wires and the bot, instead of raising its arm, as instructed, would jump up and down! The CAS fixed those problems. It made my father famous in the world of robotics. I don’t really remember any of that; I was just three years old at that time. All I know is there were many elaborate parties we were taken to—Suz and me, and lots of fuss made of us. There is one faded memory I do have of a party: an older man picked me up, held me in his arms, and declared that I would be the next great robotics scientist. My father beamed with pride, I remember the smile on his face. He was so thrilled to hear that. I bet secretly he wished it would come true. Now, at this tender time in my life, I wanted so badly to please my father. I wanted him to be here with me as I made advances in his work. Could I? Well, not with the deplorable working conditions I had, and a bot that was ancient. Maybe after I was grown and found my way back to the Inner States, I’d get a job at Servidyne and pick up where he left off. That seemed like a million years and a million miles away right now. I sat motionless for a moment while contemplating the next installment of my father’s log. Ever so slowly, Rory and I had been rebuilding the old bot. At first we started at the top, but then realized that parts were hard to come by. So we took a different approach and started at the bottom by rewiring the legs and torso. That alone had wasted several months of precious time. I wanted desperately for the bot to function. There was something I wished to breathe into it.Sighing deeply, I rested my head against the headboard and clicked play.
“Log entry number 185. August 10th, 2045. Today was an excellent day. After three successful trials on the CAS, I’m ready to demonstrate it to Servidyne management. I think they will be very pleased with this new system…I have experienced one difficulty: the main drive actuator tends to stick once in a while—”
I giggled upon hearing this. In robotics history class at our former school, this was a test given to students. They were required to figure out the acceptable method for remedying the sticking servo. As the son of the inventor, it wasn’t exactly fair of me to ace the test having prior knowledge and expertise from the creator himself. My instructor was surprised that I had the answer—and the correct answer, so quickly. I guess she thought I was an absolute brain-child. But my short-lived glory was cut even shorter when father came to pick us up from school one day. My instructor immediately recognized him, and subsequent tests for me became increasingly difficult.
“I feel that with time and advancements in technology, the CAS will eventually become a thing of the past like the neural gain feed that my predecessor and mentor, Dr. William Benke, designed. His work in the field of robotics was years ahead of his time. I only wish I could have had more time spent with him before his untimely death.”
My heart froze. What did he just say? Untimely death? How convenient that seemed. A brilliant scientist dies before his time. Shivers went down my spine. This whole mysterious case just got even more mysterious. Had I stumbled into a conspiracy? Or was this just absolute coincidence? Knocking on my door snapped me into the real world. “Yes?” I called.“Can I come in?” Rory asked.“Yes.”The door opened and he wandered in, still looking pale from his bout with influenza. “What are you doing?”“Listening to Dad.”“Oh.” He climbed onto the bed. “Have you been able to access the bot’s memory core?”“Nope. I’ve tried with no luck. All I can think is we’re missing a part.”“Missing what? It looked like it was all there.”I set my tablet aside and sluggishly climbed from bed. My feet, upon reaching the floor, slowly gave way allowing the rest of my body to slouch miserably on the hardwood. Most of the aches had left me, but I was shattered from fighting the virus. Who would think that something so microscopic could wreak such havoc upon a life form thousands of times its size? With care, I inched under the bed and retrieved the shoe box. Normally it was barely a feather-weight, but in my compromised physical state, it felt like a brick of pure cobalt. I sat it on the bed and climbed back into my plush divan. My fingers rested on the edges of the box top. “If we are missing a part, it could be difficult to get.” Rory motioned for the core. “All that work would be for naught.” I handed it over. “Maybe not…”“What do you mean?”“Dagwood came by for a visit.”“Yeah, heard him.”“He’s got someone that has an old 108.”Rory perked up. “Really?”“A cousin or something. He said they get together often and next time he’s going to bring him over and introduce us.” “Excellent!”
December 26, 2014
Servo 11:2
Servo 11:2
Two days passed and of course I was absent from school. Rory and Suz were in attendance— well, they were until they took sick. The school nurse called Grandpa and he had to retrieve them. Now all three of us were miserable at home. Poor Grandma did her best to keep us hydrated. She made a big pot of fresh chicken broth and would bring cups of it to sip. At first it tasted terrible. Suz wanted nothing to do with it; I could hear her protesting loudly down the hallway. But after another two days of nearly starving, we all decided it was the only thing keeping us going. As I lay in bed wishing I was dead, there was a faint knock on the door. “Jonah?” It was Dagwood. I hadn’t heard him arrive at the house, let alone scale the creaky stairs to the second floor. Was my head so fuzzy that I missed all that? He was by no means a quiet individual. “Jonah?” he called again.“Yeah, Dagwood?”The door opened a crack and he peered in. “I came to see how you were.”I sat up in bed slightly. “Miserable.”“Your grandma says y’all got the flu.”“Yes.”He came in all the way, shutting the door carefully.“Should you be here? I mean, I’m sick,” I said. In a way it was comforting to see his softly rounded face. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Had a mild case of it already.”“Did it make you feel like you wanted to die?”Dagwood shrugged his shoulders. “Naw, not really. Felt bad a few days and missed some school.”I retrieved a damp cloth that was sitting in a bowl on the nightstand. With it, I dabbed my forehead and cheeks. “You probably think this is crazy, but I’ve never been sick before.”“Because you’re one of those GEE kids?”“Yeah.”He shrugged his shoulders again. “Not your fault.”“I suppose not. But living in this environment it’s opened us up to getting ill.”“We all get sick, just part of life.”“Your life, and what used to be my life, are two very different things.”“I know. You’re here now, though.”With my feeble nature, I almost let the words slip but I don’t want to be. Had I said them, I fear I probably would’ve hurt his feelings. Dagwood was proud of who he was and where he lived. This was his world, not mine. My attempts to fit in were as weak as my current physical state. “Oh!” Dagwood said loudly, thrusting his finger into the air. I startled, not exactly ready for an outburst like that.“I forgot.”“What?” I tried to calm my nerves.“I also came over to tell you about my cousin, Otto.”“Umm, okay.”“Otto Arkman, he’s my ma’s kin.”“And…?”“He’s eighteen.”At this point I was starting to get a little annoyed. “Dagwood?”“Huh?”“What is it about your cousin?”He fell silent for a few moments, almost as if collecting his thoughts. “He’s real smart—maybe not as smart as y’all, but he’s smart.” Then he picked at his fingers. “He lives in North Platte. That’s over in Lincoln County.”“Oh.”Dagwood pulled a chair up next to my bed. “I wanted to tell you about him because he’s into electronics and stuff.”“I see,” I replied, trying to be polite.“His family is kinda rich. They have about two thousand dairy cows—and a bot.”“How can he help me?”“They came over for a family barbeque this weekend and I asked him what kind of bot they had.”I perked up slightly.“He says they have an old model 108. Helps with getting all the cows milked.”“Did he say what year it was?”Dagwood scratched his head. “Umm, what year is yours?”“It was made in 2022.”“His is 2024.”Despite the utter disheveled condition of my poor brain, I was beginning to see where Dagwood was going with this. “And their bot still works?”“Yup! Plenty fine.”“And they can get parts when it breaks?”“Yup!”At that very moment I wanted to hug the daylights out of my simple-minded friend. “Could he get me parts?”“I’m sure he could.”“How would I get them?”He waved his hand through the air dismissively. “Pishaw! They come over all the time.”“Allthe time?”“Yeah. I dunno why I didn’t think of that sooner.” He playfully smacked himself on the forehead. “They’re coming over in two weeks; you wanna meet him?”“Of course!” I blurted out the words with the most strength I’d had in days. “If you want, I can bring him by and you can show him your bot.”“Yes, yes, perfect!”He stood and returned the chair to its original place. “Well, I better be goin’. You look like you need to rest and get better.”“Thanks for the visit.”Dagwood smiled broadly. “No problem, friend.”“I look forward to meeting your cousin.”“He’s pretty cool, you’ll like him.” He opened the door. “I’ll see ya ’round, Jonah.” Before I could reply, he disappeared. I sank back into the bed, my heart thumping with excitement. At the time I may not have known it, but I was learning a valuable lesson about the Outer States: it’s not what you know, but who you know that can solve many a problem.
Two days passed and of course I was absent from school. Rory and Suz were in attendance— well, they were until they took sick. The school nurse called Grandpa and he had to retrieve them. Now all three of us were miserable at home. Poor Grandma did her best to keep us hydrated. She made a big pot of fresh chicken broth and would bring cups of it to sip. At first it tasted terrible. Suz wanted nothing to do with it; I could hear her protesting loudly down the hallway. But after another two days of nearly starving, we all decided it was the only thing keeping us going. As I lay in bed wishing I was dead, there was a faint knock on the door. “Jonah?” It was Dagwood. I hadn’t heard him arrive at the house, let alone scale the creaky stairs to the second floor. Was my head so fuzzy that I missed all that? He was by no means a quiet individual. “Jonah?” he called again.“Yeah, Dagwood?”The door opened a crack and he peered in. “I came to see how you were.”I sat up in bed slightly. “Miserable.”“Your grandma says y’all got the flu.”“Yes.”He came in all the way, shutting the door carefully.“Should you be here? I mean, I’m sick,” I said. In a way it was comforting to see his softly rounded face. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Had a mild case of it already.”“Did it make you feel like you wanted to die?”Dagwood shrugged his shoulders. “Naw, not really. Felt bad a few days and missed some school.”I retrieved a damp cloth that was sitting in a bowl on the nightstand. With it, I dabbed my forehead and cheeks. “You probably think this is crazy, but I’ve never been sick before.”“Because you’re one of those GEE kids?”“Yeah.”He shrugged his shoulders again. “Not your fault.”“I suppose not. But living in this environment it’s opened us up to getting ill.”“We all get sick, just part of life.”“Your life, and what used to be my life, are two very different things.”“I know. You’re here now, though.”With my feeble nature, I almost let the words slip but I don’t want to be. Had I said them, I fear I probably would’ve hurt his feelings. Dagwood was proud of who he was and where he lived. This was his world, not mine. My attempts to fit in were as weak as my current physical state. “Oh!” Dagwood said loudly, thrusting his finger into the air. I startled, not exactly ready for an outburst like that.“I forgot.”“What?” I tried to calm my nerves.“I also came over to tell you about my cousin, Otto.”“Umm, okay.”“Otto Arkman, he’s my ma’s kin.”“And…?”“He’s eighteen.”At this point I was starting to get a little annoyed. “Dagwood?”“Huh?”“What is it about your cousin?”He fell silent for a few moments, almost as if collecting his thoughts. “He’s real smart—maybe not as smart as y’all, but he’s smart.” Then he picked at his fingers. “He lives in North Platte. That’s over in Lincoln County.”“Oh.”Dagwood pulled a chair up next to my bed. “I wanted to tell you about him because he’s into electronics and stuff.”“I see,” I replied, trying to be polite.“His family is kinda rich. They have about two thousand dairy cows—and a bot.”“How can he help me?”“They came over for a family barbeque this weekend and I asked him what kind of bot they had.”I perked up slightly.“He says they have an old model 108. Helps with getting all the cows milked.”“Did he say what year it was?”Dagwood scratched his head. “Umm, what year is yours?”“It was made in 2022.”“His is 2024.”Despite the utter disheveled condition of my poor brain, I was beginning to see where Dagwood was going with this. “And their bot still works?”“Yup! Plenty fine.”“And they can get parts when it breaks?”“Yup!”At that very moment I wanted to hug the daylights out of my simple-minded friend. “Could he get me parts?”“I’m sure he could.”“How would I get them?”He waved his hand through the air dismissively. “Pishaw! They come over all the time.”“Allthe time?”“Yeah. I dunno why I didn’t think of that sooner.” He playfully smacked himself on the forehead. “They’re coming over in two weeks; you wanna meet him?”“Of course!” I blurted out the words with the most strength I’d had in days. “If you want, I can bring him by and you can show him your bot.”“Yes, yes, perfect!”He stood and returned the chair to its original place. “Well, I better be goin’. You look like you need to rest and get better.”“Thanks for the visit.”Dagwood smiled broadly. “No problem, friend.”“I look forward to meeting your cousin.”“He’s pretty cool, you’ll like him.” He opened the door. “I’ll see ya ’round, Jonah.” Before I could reply, he disappeared. I sank back into the bed, my heart thumping with excitement. At the time I may not have known it, but I was learning a valuable lesson about the Outer States: it’s not what you know, but who you know that can solve many a problem.
December 19, 2014
Servo 11:1
Servo 11:1
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Soon winter was upon us. The other kids in school steered clear of us. That was fine by me. Dagwood was my only friend besides Rory. Suz had grown even more distant toward us. I knew she hated it here and couldn’t wait to leave. Her eighteenth birthday wouldn’t be until March next year. I’m pretty sure she was counting the days until she could run away from this horrible place. At first, I hated it too. There was little for GEE kids to do. But work on the bot kept my brain engaged enough to make it bearable. Rory and I took near weekly trips to Jimmy Pineapple—err, Pinepply, for parts. I now believe Dagwood has thoroughly corrupted my brain with his malapropisms. I can’t say his name without calling him Pineapple. Oh dear! Grandpa had been generous enough to purchase bicycles for us. I think he believed the exercise would do us well. In a way, it has. Although Rory and I have become far more dare-devil on the highway as of late, we have made excellent use of our new conveyances.It was now early December and I awoke one Saturday morning feeling like there were a thousand little demons with sharp hammers banging away in my head. My hips, back, and knees felt like they were being twisted apart. Was I dying? I’d never experienced such agony. My whole body was cold, sweaty, shivering, hot, and jittering, all in the same moment. Slowly I climbed from bed. Only last month Grandpa and Grandma had finished redecorating another room. It was now mine. I actually loved it. The décor was tastefully masculine, the bed, new and comfy, and I had a great view of the barn out front. And best of all: I didn’t have to tolerate Rory’s incessant snoring anymore! How a child of his young age could…what was that term Dagwood used? Oh, yes, saw logs, was beyond me. But I was eternally grateful to have my own abode. I still didn’t have a proper closet, but a stand-alone wardrobe proved a suitable substitute. No longer did I have to tromp upstairs to the very creepy attic to fetch my school clothes.I groaned as I pulled on my robe and headed for the door. Surely Grandma would have a remedy for whatever ailment I was suffering. My head began to spin, I reeled to one side and nearly fell over. My only saving grace was the door knob. I grabbed it and held on for dear life. That wasn’t the worst of it, no, then came the horrible feeling that my stomach was wanting out through my mouth. Having never been sick a day in my life, I can only assume this is what was implied by the term “throwing up.” Oh, it was awful! With every bit of waning strength, I yanked open the door and made a beeline for my grandparent’s bedroom. It was only a ten foot walk, but it seemed to take hours. My feet were lead, my legs, cast iron, and my mind traveling at light speed. I knew where I needed to be, but I didn’t seem capable of getting there. At last I finally reached the door. My knuckles stung fiercely as I rapped on the door. “Grandma!” I tried to shout. What came out was more of a whimper. “Grandma, help!” I knocked again. Pain shot up my arm. “Grandma!” I slumped to the floor.Perhaps it was the sound of me hitting the aged hardwood floor that finally roused her from slumber. A few moments later, Grandma appeared. “Jonah? What’s wrong?”“Oh, I feel terrible!”She reached out and placed a gnarled hand upon my brow. “Yes, you’re burning up. Let’s get you back to bed.”“And I feel like I want to…throw up.”“Your tummy bothering you?”I nodded, fighting back the acid that was threatening to come up. It felt like an active volcano was cooking inside me. Without a word, Grandma reached inside the door, produced the wastepaper can, and handed it to me. “Just in case,” she said, getting a hand under my arm and helping me to my feet. I wobbled and nearly fell again. “Sounds like you have a case of the flu.”“Flu?” I replied weakly.“Influenza…Don’t get too worried, it’s common out here.”“But—”“We’ll get you fixed up. Most likely you’ll feel pretty bad for a few days.”“I want to die!”“Nonsense,” she said with a little chuckle. “You’ll be all right.” With her free hand, she pushed open the door to my bedroom and guided me in. By now the whole world was spinning and I wanted to lie down. My stomach refused to surrender. I could feel it coming. Without warning, I dropped to my knees and paid homage to the waste can. Grandma was gently patting me on the back, trying her best to comfort me in my time of agony. How much more of this would I have to endure?
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Soon winter was upon us. The other kids in school steered clear of us. That was fine by me. Dagwood was my only friend besides Rory. Suz had grown even more distant toward us. I knew she hated it here and couldn’t wait to leave. Her eighteenth birthday wouldn’t be until March next year. I’m pretty sure she was counting the days until she could run away from this horrible place. At first, I hated it too. There was little for GEE kids to do. But work on the bot kept my brain engaged enough to make it bearable. Rory and I took near weekly trips to Jimmy Pineapple—err, Pinepply, for parts. I now believe Dagwood has thoroughly corrupted my brain with his malapropisms. I can’t say his name without calling him Pineapple. Oh dear! Grandpa had been generous enough to purchase bicycles for us. I think he believed the exercise would do us well. In a way, it has. Although Rory and I have become far more dare-devil on the highway as of late, we have made excellent use of our new conveyances.It was now early December and I awoke one Saturday morning feeling like there were a thousand little demons with sharp hammers banging away in my head. My hips, back, and knees felt like they were being twisted apart. Was I dying? I’d never experienced such agony. My whole body was cold, sweaty, shivering, hot, and jittering, all in the same moment. Slowly I climbed from bed. Only last month Grandpa and Grandma had finished redecorating another room. It was now mine. I actually loved it. The décor was tastefully masculine, the bed, new and comfy, and I had a great view of the barn out front. And best of all: I didn’t have to tolerate Rory’s incessant snoring anymore! How a child of his young age could…what was that term Dagwood used? Oh, yes, saw logs, was beyond me. But I was eternally grateful to have my own abode. I still didn’t have a proper closet, but a stand-alone wardrobe proved a suitable substitute. No longer did I have to tromp upstairs to the very creepy attic to fetch my school clothes.I groaned as I pulled on my robe and headed for the door. Surely Grandma would have a remedy for whatever ailment I was suffering. My head began to spin, I reeled to one side and nearly fell over. My only saving grace was the door knob. I grabbed it and held on for dear life. That wasn’t the worst of it, no, then came the horrible feeling that my stomach was wanting out through my mouth. Having never been sick a day in my life, I can only assume this is what was implied by the term “throwing up.” Oh, it was awful! With every bit of waning strength, I yanked open the door and made a beeline for my grandparent’s bedroom. It was only a ten foot walk, but it seemed to take hours. My feet were lead, my legs, cast iron, and my mind traveling at light speed. I knew where I needed to be, but I didn’t seem capable of getting there. At last I finally reached the door. My knuckles stung fiercely as I rapped on the door. “Grandma!” I tried to shout. What came out was more of a whimper. “Grandma, help!” I knocked again. Pain shot up my arm. “Grandma!” I slumped to the floor.Perhaps it was the sound of me hitting the aged hardwood floor that finally roused her from slumber. A few moments later, Grandma appeared. “Jonah? What’s wrong?”“Oh, I feel terrible!”She reached out and placed a gnarled hand upon my brow. “Yes, you’re burning up. Let’s get you back to bed.”“And I feel like I want to…throw up.”“Your tummy bothering you?”I nodded, fighting back the acid that was threatening to come up. It felt like an active volcano was cooking inside me. Without a word, Grandma reached inside the door, produced the wastepaper can, and handed it to me. “Just in case,” she said, getting a hand under my arm and helping me to my feet. I wobbled and nearly fell again. “Sounds like you have a case of the flu.”“Flu?” I replied weakly.“Influenza…Don’t get too worried, it’s common out here.”“But—”“We’ll get you fixed up. Most likely you’ll feel pretty bad for a few days.”“I want to die!”“Nonsense,” she said with a little chuckle. “You’ll be all right.” With her free hand, she pushed open the door to my bedroom and guided me in. By now the whole world was spinning and I wanted to lie down. My stomach refused to surrender. I could feel it coming. Without warning, I dropped to my knees and paid homage to the waste can. Grandma was gently patting me on the back, trying her best to comfort me in my time of agony. How much more of this would I have to endure?
December 12, 2014
Servo 10:3
Servo 10:3
I left Jimmy’s that afternoon with a backpack full of parts. I couldn’t wait to get home and show Rory. He’d probably be mad at me for leaving him out of the excursion, but I didn’t care. Dagwood was kind enough to give me loan of his sister’s bicycle. Perhaps I could get Grandpa to buy us some with the money provided for our maintenance.After dinner, Rory and I went to the barn. In my absence, my little brother had done some cleaning up in the old place. The workbench was now cleared, save for the bot parts on it. I felt exhilarated as I approached. My backpack weighed heavy with parts and wires. “So what did you get?” Rory asked as he flicked on the lights.“Quite a few of the boards the mice chewed, some wiring, and a couple of small actuation motors.”“Cool!”I placed the pack on the bench and opened it, carefully removing each piece. As I laid them down, Rory picked up each one, inspecting it. When the bag was empty, I took a step back and surveyed the wreckage of bot strewn all over. This was going to be a lot of work. “Oh,” I sighed, “where to start?”“Start at the top.”“I suppose that would be logical.” I went to the bot’s head. Leaning over, I looked to see what kind of tools would be needed to disassemble it. “Rory?”“Yes?”“In your cleaning up, did you find some hand tools?”“Lots.”“Where are they?”He wandered over to a large shelf. “I organized them here. Hope Grandpa won’t be mad.”“Can you find me a small screwdriver?”“Flat?”“Yes.”A moment later, one was thrust at my face. I took it, giving him a look of displeasure in regards to his somewhat rude actions. “Thanks.”“You’re welcome…I figure you can do the fixing, and I’ll give you the tools.”“That’s fine.” With screwdriver in hand, I commenced to removing the bot’s front facial cover. The memory core that we previously removed was still tucked under my bed. I had yet to find a way to charge the small batteries enough to get it to work. There had to be a way, I just hadn’t figured it out.“So, how does it look?” Rory pestered, looking over my shoulder.“Broken,” I replied with irritation. Evidently more mice had moved in and set up housekeeping in the space just below the bot’s eye sockets. There was pink and yellow fluff crammed everywhere. I began picking it out. “What is this stuff?”My brother roamed around the barn trying to find the source of the mysterious fluffy material. Several minutes went by and he reappeared with a handful of pink fluff. “Look.”“Where did you find that?”“Stuck between the walls over there.”“What is it?”“Perhaps some sort of insulation. What do you think?”I took the handful and examined it. The fluff was stuck to a brown paper backing. Turning it over, I read: R-15 residential insulation. “You’re right. It’s insulation. But I’ve never seen any like this.”“We’re out in the old world now,” Rory replied. “They don’t have all the nice new stuff we have.”“True.” I set it aside and continued probing for more that found its way into the bot’s head. These country mice were certainly industrious. When I thought I had all of it out, I picked up the screwdriver and began working my way farther inside. Once in a while I’d require another tool. Rory was always quick to bring it to me. As each part was removed, Rory took it upon himself to clean and organize them. I have to admit, he was good at that. Time must have escaped us, because no sooner had I emptied the bot’s head of parts, Grandpa came into the barn. “Hey, time for bed!”I glanced out the dirty window and indeed, it was dark—quite dark. “Sorry,” I said, putting down my work and giving Rory a nudge.“You can start on that bright and early tomorrow.”“Thank you.” I shuffled past him. “Grandpa?”“Yes?”“Would it be possible to use some of our money to get us bicycles?”“Bicycles?”“So we can get around without you having to take us everywhere.”“Can you even ride one of those contraptions?”“Yes, Dagwood let me borrow his sister’s bike. After a few incidents, I did quite well.”He rubbed his chin. I soon learned that he did this when he was in deep contemplation. “Well, I need to go into town tomorrow. I suppose you boys could ride along and we can stop at the store and find you some.”I smiled broadly. “Thank you.”“Do you think Suzette will want one?” Rory and I burst into laughter. “Not on her life!”
I left Jimmy’s that afternoon with a backpack full of parts. I couldn’t wait to get home and show Rory. He’d probably be mad at me for leaving him out of the excursion, but I didn’t care. Dagwood was kind enough to give me loan of his sister’s bicycle. Perhaps I could get Grandpa to buy us some with the money provided for our maintenance.After dinner, Rory and I went to the barn. In my absence, my little brother had done some cleaning up in the old place. The workbench was now cleared, save for the bot parts on it. I felt exhilarated as I approached. My backpack weighed heavy with parts and wires. “So what did you get?” Rory asked as he flicked on the lights.“Quite a few of the boards the mice chewed, some wiring, and a couple of small actuation motors.”“Cool!”I placed the pack on the bench and opened it, carefully removing each piece. As I laid them down, Rory picked up each one, inspecting it. When the bag was empty, I took a step back and surveyed the wreckage of bot strewn all over. This was going to be a lot of work. “Oh,” I sighed, “where to start?”“Start at the top.”“I suppose that would be logical.” I went to the bot’s head. Leaning over, I looked to see what kind of tools would be needed to disassemble it. “Rory?”“Yes?”“In your cleaning up, did you find some hand tools?”“Lots.”“Where are they?”He wandered over to a large shelf. “I organized them here. Hope Grandpa won’t be mad.”“Can you find me a small screwdriver?”“Flat?”“Yes.”A moment later, one was thrust at my face. I took it, giving him a look of displeasure in regards to his somewhat rude actions. “Thanks.”“You’re welcome…I figure you can do the fixing, and I’ll give you the tools.”“That’s fine.” With screwdriver in hand, I commenced to removing the bot’s front facial cover. The memory core that we previously removed was still tucked under my bed. I had yet to find a way to charge the small batteries enough to get it to work. There had to be a way, I just hadn’t figured it out.“So, how does it look?” Rory pestered, looking over my shoulder.“Broken,” I replied with irritation. Evidently more mice had moved in and set up housekeeping in the space just below the bot’s eye sockets. There was pink and yellow fluff crammed everywhere. I began picking it out. “What is this stuff?”My brother roamed around the barn trying to find the source of the mysterious fluffy material. Several minutes went by and he reappeared with a handful of pink fluff. “Look.”“Where did you find that?”“Stuck between the walls over there.”“What is it?”“Perhaps some sort of insulation. What do you think?”I took the handful and examined it. The fluff was stuck to a brown paper backing. Turning it over, I read: R-15 residential insulation. “You’re right. It’s insulation. But I’ve never seen any like this.”“We’re out in the old world now,” Rory replied. “They don’t have all the nice new stuff we have.”“True.” I set it aside and continued probing for more that found its way into the bot’s head. These country mice were certainly industrious. When I thought I had all of it out, I picked up the screwdriver and began working my way farther inside. Once in a while I’d require another tool. Rory was always quick to bring it to me. As each part was removed, Rory took it upon himself to clean and organize them. I have to admit, he was good at that. Time must have escaped us, because no sooner had I emptied the bot’s head of parts, Grandpa came into the barn. “Hey, time for bed!”I glanced out the dirty window and indeed, it was dark—quite dark. “Sorry,” I said, putting down my work and giving Rory a nudge.“You can start on that bright and early tomorrow.”“Thank you.” I shuffled past him. “Grandpa?”“Yes?”“Would it be possible to use some of our money to get us bicycles?”“Bicycles?”“So we can get around without you having to take us everywhere.”“Can you even ride one of those contraptions?”“Yes, Dagwood let me borrow his sister’s bike. After a few incidents, I did quite well.”He rubbed his chin. I soon learned that he did this when he was in deep contemplation. “Well, I need to go into town tomorrow. I suppose you boys could ride along and we can stop at the store and find you some.”I smiled broadly. “Thank you.”“Do you think Suzette will want one?” Rory and I burst into laughter. “Not on her life!”
December 6, 2014
Servo 10:2
Servo 10:2
We rode for what seemed hours. I’m sure Dagwood was going far slower than he normally would for my benefit. After a couple of miles, I was feeling better about this outing. My hands were shaking less, and I had better control over the bike. The cars and large trucks screaming by still had me worried. Finally, when I thought I could pedal no more, we turned down a long gravel drive. The farm resembled Dagwood’s family farm; in fact, most of the farms in the area looked very similar. I wondered why. “Dagwood?”“Yeah?”“May I make an observation?”“Make anything you want.” He pulled the bike up near the large white farm house.I struggled to stop the awkward conveyance without looking too inept. “Why do many of the farms in the area look alike?”“Goes way back to the settlers. They came out here with only the technology they possessed. So they built the houses and the barns how they knew. Most of the metal buildings are newer.”“Settlers?”“Yeah, came here a couple hundred years ago.” “And everyone likes living in buildings that are so old?”“Sure! Don’t you think your grandpa’s farm house is cool?”“A bit creepy more like.”Dagwood hooked his toe against the bike frame and deployed the kickstand. I followed his lead. Then we tromped onto the wide, heavily aged porch. He rapped loudly on the rickety screen door. Moments went by and I thought no one was home. Finally there was the sound of approaching footsteps on the wood floor inside and a young man appeared. He was in his early twenties and boasted a head of scraggly long brown hair. His clothing was typically the farmer style, and he had on heavy black boots covered with dust. “Jimmy Pineapple!” Dagwood said gleefully.“Hey, kiddo,” Jimmy replied, stepping onto the porch.“This is my friend, Jonah—the one I told you about.”Jimmy extended his hand toward me. “Hi.”I gingerly accepted his offering of palm-flesh. “Hello.” As quickly as prudent, I let my hand slide. Shaking hands wasn’t commonplace in the Inner States. The Japanese practice of bowing had mostly replaced handshakes. It was far more sanitary. “Dagwood says you got an old bot?”“Yes, a model 106, manufactured in 2022,” I replied.“Boy-howdy, that is an old one.”“What is the model you work with?”Jimmy skipped down the three steps and headed for a large red barn. “The one at work is a 118.”“Oh,” I said, feeling dismal.“But, I got a partial 110 here in the barn.”“Partial?”“It had an accident.”Behind, I could hear Dagwood giggle. “Accident?”“It was working the fields with my grandpa and it fell out of the tractor and got run over. After that, he didn’t buy another bot because it was getting too expensive to own and license them.” He opened a door and waved us inside. “You might be able to use some of the parts for your 106.”“You’re okay with that?”“Sure. This bot’s just been sitting around for years. I’d take it to the junkyard, but they’d want the papers for it.”“And you don’t have any?”“Nope. Grandpa lost ’em.”“I see.”“Dagwood said your daddy worked for Servidyne.”“Until the day he died.”“Sorry to hear that.”“They said it was an accident.”Jimmy went to a dark corner of the barn and paused for a moment. There was what I gathered to be a bot under a dusty blue tarp. “I keep to my own business. If you want the parts from this bot, that’s fine by me.” He pointed a finger directly toward my face. “Just don’t you ever tell me that you got it runnin’ again, okay?”I nodded. “I might never get it running.”He pulled off the tarp. “Here it is.”My eyes beheld a bot. Well, most of it. The head and part of the upper torso were smashed flat. I could even see the imprints of the tractor tires across it. Admittedly, it was kind of comical. The rest of the silver-colored bot remained intact. I only hoped the parts were close enough they would be interchangeable. “I don’t have any way of getting it back home, and I don’t want Grandpa Cranwinkle to know.”“You’re more than welcomed to come over and strip parts as needed.”“Dagwood said you might be able to get me new parts if I needed some.”Jimmy shook his head. “On a bot that old, it’s next to impossible.”“Ah, well, it was worth a shot.”He nudged the bot’s foot with his. “Why do you wanna have a bot?”I sighed and leaned against a massive old post. “Maybe I’m crazy, but I wanted to rebuild the bot so I could put my father’s memories inside it.”Jimmy eyed me. “You want your father back, huh?”I’m pretty sure the expression on my face told him the answer. “A boy needs his father. Abe Cranwinkle is a fine man, but he’s not your daddy.”
We rode for what seemed hours. I’m sure Dagwood was going far slower than he normally would for my benefit. After a couple of miles, I was feeling better about this outing. My hands were shaking less, and I had better control over the bike. The cars and large trucks screaming by still had me worried. Finally, when I thought I could pedal no more, we turned down a long gravel drive. The farm resembled Dagwood’s family farm; in fact, most of the farms in the area looked very similar. I wondered why. “Dagwood?”“Yeah?”“May I make an observation?”“Make anything you want.” He pulled the bike up near the large white farm house.I struggled to stop the awkward conveyance without looking too inept. “Why do many of the farms in the area look alike?”“Goes way back to the settlers. They came out here with only the technology they possessed. So they built the houses and the barns how they knew. Most of the metal buildings are newer.”“Settlers?”“Yeah, came here a couple hundred years ago.” “And everyone likes living in buildings that are so old?”“Sure! Don’t you think your grandpa’s farm house is cool?”“A bit creepy more like.”Dagwood hooked his toe against the bike frame and deployed the kickstand. I followed his lead. Then we tromped onto the wide, heavily aged porch. He rapped loudly on the rickety screen door. Moments went by and I thought no one was home. Finally there was the sound of approaching footsteps on the wood floor inside and a young man appeared. He was in his early twenties and boasted a head of scraggly long brown hair. His clothing was typically the farmer style, and he had on heavy black boots covered with dust. “Jimmy Pineapple!” Dagwood said gleefully.“Hey, kiddo,” Jimmy replied, stepping onto the porch.“This is my friend, Jonah—the one I told you about.”Jimmy extended his hand toward me. “Hi.”I gingerly accepted his offering of palm-flesh. “Hello.” As quickly as prudent, I let my hand slide. Shaking hands wasn’t commonplace in the Inner States. The Japanese practice of bowing had mostly replaced handshakes. It was far more sanitary. “Dagwood says you got an old bot?”“Yes, a model 106, manufactured in 2022,” I replied.“Boy-howdy, that is an old one.”“What is the model you work with?”Jimmy skipped down the three steps and headed for a large red barn. “The one at work is a 118.”“Oh,” I said, feeling dismal.“But, I got a partial 110 here in the barn.”“Partial?”“It had an accident.”Behind, I could hear Dagwood giggle. “Accident?”“It was working the fields with my grandpa and it fell out of the tractor and got run over. After that, he didn’t buy another bot because it was getting too expensive to own and license them.” He opened a door and waved us inside. “You might be able to use some of the parts for your 106.”“You’re okay with that?”“Sure. This bot’s just been sitting around for years. I’d take it to the junkyard, but they’d want the papers for it.”“And you don’t have any?”“Nope. Grandpa lost ’em.”“I see.”“Dagwood said your daddy worked for Servidyne.”“Until the day he died.”“Sorry to hear that.”“They said it was an accident.”Jimmy went to a dark corner of the barn and paused for a moment. There was what I gathered to be a bot under a dusty blue tarp. “I keep to my own business. If you want the parts from this bot, that’s fine by me.” He pointed a finger directly toward my face. “Just don’t you ever tell me that you got it runnin’ again, okay?”I nodded. “I might never get it running.”He pulled off the tarp. “Here it is.”My eyes beheld a bot. Well, most of it. The head and part of the upper torso were smashed flat. I could even see the imprints of the tractor tires across it. Admittedly, it was kind of comical. The rest of the silver-colored bot remained intact. I only hoped the parts were close enough they would be interchangeable. “I don’t have any way of getting it back home, and I don’t want Grandpa Cranwinkle to know.”“You’re more than welcomed to come over and strip parts as needed.”“Dagwood said you might be able to get me new parts if I needed some.”Jimmy shook his head. “On a bot that old, it’s next to impossible.”“Ah, well, it was worth a shot.”He nudged the bot’s foot with his. “Why do you wanna have a bot?”I sighed and leaned against a massive old post. “Maybe I’m crazy, but I wanted to rebuild the bot so I could put my father’s memories inside it.”Jimmy eyed me. “You want your father back, huh?”I’m pretty sure the expression on my face told him the answer. “A boy needs his father. Abe Cranwinkle is a fine man, but he’s not your daddy.”
November 28, 2014
Servo 10:1
Servo 10:1
Tomorrow came a lot sooner than expected. Dagwood was knocking on the door at quarter past nine. We’d barely finished our Saturday breakfast of blueberry pancakes. He was eager to help me. I’m not sure why, perhaps it was because I was willing to be his friend when others shunned him. “Mornin’!” Dagwood said in a boisterous tone.“Good morning,” I replied, stepping onto the porch. “You wanted to meet Jimmy Pineapple, right?”“Yes.”“Well, we gotta go over to his house.”“Where is that?”“’Bout three miles away.”“Oh.” I noticed he’d ridden up on a bicycle. “That far?” “Yeah.”“I don’t have a bicycle, and that’s a long walk.”“Your grandpa doesn’t have one in the barn?”“Haven’t seen one.”“Well, that’s okay. If you don’t mind walking over to my house, I have one you can borrow.”“Ah, thank you.” I quivered slightly. It had been a long time since I’d been on a bicycle. Normally we took either the metro or were driven to school. The last bicycle that I’d ridden belonged to a friend of mine, and I’d crashed it in dramatic style. Dagwood hopped on his bike. “Come on!” He shoved off and began pedaling slowly down the long dusty drive. I scampered to catch him; my feet thudded along trying to keep up. The whole journey was probably a quarter mile, but I realized I was not in good physical shape. My mind might have been exercised daily, however, the body wasn’t. We pulled up to a massive old faded black barn and I stopped, bent over, and put my hands on my knees as I gasped for air.“Jonah? You tired?”I tried to straighten up. It didn’t help my desperate need for oxygen. “I’ll be fine.”“Do Inner States kids go out and play much?”“Evidently…” I took in several ragged breaths. “…not enough.”“So what did you do for fun?”“Computers.” I was finally getting my wind back. “We played on computers.”Dagwood waved his hand. “How boring!” He flipped the kickstand down on his bike and got off. Going to the barn, he opened a huge door. I waited outside while hearing him rummaging around. A few moments later he appeared pushing out a dusty bicycle. “Sorry, it’s my sister’s bike.” He parked it in front of me.“You have a sister?”“Yeah, but she’s away at college.” He made the word sound extra important for my benefit.“Do you have any brothers and sisters still at home?”“Naw, just me. Ma and Pa only had Gracie and me…And I was an accident.”“Accident?” I couldn’t comprehend to what he was inferring. In the Inner States, pregnancies were planned. Accidents just didn’t happen. “Ma didn’t expect to get pregnant with me.” He hopped and stomped both feet on the ground, stirring up a cloud of dust, and thrust both arms out wide. “But here I am!”I couldn’t help but chuckle at his antics. If anything, Dagwood was entertaining. He got back on his bike. “Saddle up!”I gave him a blank stare.“Get on, Jonah, let’s go.”“Ah, I see.” I grasped both handlebars and swung my leg over. The bicycle was a bit on the large side for me, so I had to tiptoe in order to get my butt on the seat. I watched Dagwood pedal off. With a good push, I launched forward and got my feet on the pedals. Soon I was sitting on the seat, my legs pumping away. I felt good. Yes, I can do this. Well, until I realized that my steering capabilities were sorely lacking and I strayed off the driveway, falling into a shallow ditch with a loud crash.Dagwood stopped and immediately came back. “Jonah? Are you okay?”I quickly stood up, dusted myself off, grabbed the bike, and wrested it from the ditch. “Yes, I’m fine.”“What happened?”“Uh, it’s been a while since I’ve ridden a bike.”“Oh, sorry.” I could tell he was trying to hide a smile. “How about we take this slow?”“I was!” he said, sputtering a little laugh.Once again I threw my leg over and tried to get the bike going. This time I managed to make it all the way to the end of the drive before stopping and almost falling over. “Better!” Dagwood said as he pulled up next to me. “Now for the road.”Cars zipped by and my confidence sagged. I wasn’t sure I wanted to die today. “The road?”“Sure, the fastest way to get to Jimmy’s house.” He pointed. “It’s due north that way.”A massive semi-truck roared by. “Three miles that way?”“Yup.”“On this road?”“Yup.” He looked both ways and ventured out. “Follow me!” I panicked and did my best to keep up. Just getting onto the road had my nerves frazzled. These country kids were tougher than I ever imagined. How would I ever survive?
Tomorrow came a lot sooner than expected. Dagwood was knocking on the door at quarter past nine. We’d barely finished our Saturday breakfast of blueberry pancakes. He was eager to help me. I’m not sure why, perhaps it was because I was willing to be his friend when others shunned him. “Mornin’!” Dagwood said in a boisterous tone.“Good morning,” I replied, stepping onto the porch. “You wanted to meet Jimmy Pineapple, right?”“Yes.”“Well, we gotta go over to his house.”“Where is that?”“’Bout three miles away.”“Oh.” I noticed he’d ridden up on a bicycle. “That far?” “Yeah.”“I don’t have a bicycle, and that’s a long walk.”“Your grandpa doesn’t have one in the barn?”“Haven’t seen one.”“Well, that’s okay. If you don’t mind walking over to my house, I have one you can borrow.”“Ah, thank you.” I quivered slightly. It had been a long time since I’d been on a bicycle. Normally we took either the metro or were driven to school. The last bicycle that I’d ridden belonged to a friend of mine, and I’d crashed it in dramatic style. Dagwood hopped on his bike. “Come on!” He shoved off and began pedaling slowly down the long dusty drive. I scampered to catch him; my feet thudded along trying to keep up. The whole journey was probably a quarter mile, but I realized I was not in good physical shape. My mind might have been exercised daily, however, the body wasn’t. We pulled up to a massive old faded black barn and I stopped, bent over, and put my hands on my knees as I gasped for air.“Jonah? You tired?”I tried to straighten up. It didn’t help my desperate need for oxygen. “I’ll be fine.”“Do Inner States kids go out and play much?”“Evidently…” I took in several ragged breaths. “…not enough.”“So what did you do for fun?”“Computers.” I was finally getting my wind back. “We played on computers.”Dagwood waved his hand. “How boring!” He flipped the kickstand down on his bike and got off. Going to the barn, he opened a huge door. I waited outside while hearing him rummaging around. A few moments later he appeared pushing out a dusty bicycle. “Sorry, it’s my sister’s bike.” He parked it in front of me.“You have a sister?”“Yeah, but she’s away at college.” He made the word sound extra important for my benefit.“Do you have any brothers and sisters still at home?”“Naw, just me. Ma and Pa only had Gracie and me…And I was an accident.”“Accident?” I couldn’t comprehend to what he was inferring. In the Inner States, pregnancies were planned. Accidents just didn’t happen. “Ma didn’t expect to get pregnant with me.” He hopped and stomped both feet on the ground, stirring up a cloud of dust, and thrust both arms out wide. “But here I am!”I couldn’t help but chuckle at his antics. If anything, Dagwood was entertaining. He got back on his bike. “Saddle up!”I gave him a blank stare.“Get on, Jonah, let’s go.”“Ah, I see.” I grasped both handlebars and swung my leg over. The bicycle was a bit on the large side for me, so I had to tiptoe in order to get my butt on the seat. I watched Dagwood pedal off. With a good push, I launched forward and got my feet on the pedals. Soon I was sitting on the seat, my legs pumping away. I felt good. Yes, I can do this. Well, until I realized that my steering capabilities were sorely lacking and I strayed off the driveway, falling into a shallow ditch with a loud crash.Dagwood stopped and immediately came back. “Jonah? Are you okay?”I quickly stood up, dusted myself off, grabbed the bike, and wrested it from the ditch. “Yes, I’m fine.”“What happened?”“Uh, it’s been a while since I’ve ridden a bike.”“Oh, sorry.” I could tell he was trying to hide a smile. “How about we take this slow?”“I was!” he said, sputtering a little laugh.Once again I threw my leg over and tried to get the bike going. This time I managed to make it all the way to the end of the drive before stopping and almost falling over. “Better!” Dagwood said as he pulled up next to me. “Now for the road.”Cars zipped by and my confidence sagged. I wasn’t sure I wanted to die today. “The road?”“Sure, the fastest way to get to Jimmy’s house.” He pointed. “It’s due north that way.”A massive semi-truck roared by. “Three miles that way?”“Yup.”“On this road?”“Yup.” He looked both ways and ventured out. “Follow me!” I panicked and did my best to keep up. Just getting onto the road had my nerves frazzled. These country kids were tougher than I ever imagined. How would I ever survive?
November 21, 2014
Servo 9:2
Servo 9:2
“Jonah?” Grandma called from downstairs. “Jonah, Dagwood is here.”“Coming, Grandma!” I hollered. The thought crossed my mind if it was perhaps such a good idea to show Dagwood what we were up to. He didn’t strike me as the kind of kid who could keep a secret. But if we never get the bot working, it wouldn’t matter. On the way out of the room I grabbed my tablet. It was fully charged and still had the recent memory stick loaded into it. Perhaps I was hoping my father would give me some wisdom with his words. Although his work was decades more advanced than the dilapidated old bot we were fixing. Maybe something would jar my memory.I went downstairs and was met by Dagwood at the front door.“Hiya, Jonah.”“Hi,” I said, ushering him outside. “Rory probably has some homework to do.”“Will he come out later?”“Confident of that.”“What about your sister?”She’ll have nothing to do with our project.”“Your sister is pretty.”“Uh, yeah.” I led the way to the barn and opened the doors. “Mmm, her hair is the color of golden corn silk.”“Dagwood?”“She doesn’t like it here, does she?”“Nope. If Suz had her way, she’d be back in the Inner States.”“What’s it like there?” Dagwood followed along. “I hear only really smart people live there…I bet I’d be too dumb.”“Umm, no, that might not be the case,” I said, stopping at the workbench. “What do you mean?”“Well, if you have a marketable skill that brings in enough to put you above the income threshold, you could live there.”Dagwood gave me a blank stare. Evidently my words were above his comprehension level. “Naw, that sounds too hard. I think I’ll just stay here,” he replied. “Grandpa says you’ll make a fine farmer.”“He did?”“Yes.”“Oh, that was mighty nice of him. I wanna be just like my daddy.”“So do I.”“What do you mean?”“My daddy worked on bots.”“He did?”“Yup.” I reached out and pulled the crusty canvas tarp covering the sections of bot. “And that’s what I want to do.”“Gosh, is that a bot?”“What’s left of it,” I answered with an obvious frown. “Are you going to fix it up?”“That was our plan.” Picking up and arm, I inspected it. “If we can.”“So your daddy made bots?”“Yes, and Grandpa Cranwinkle too.”Dagwood put his hands over his mouth. “Oh, I didn’t know. He’s such a nice old man.” He got down to eye level with the workbench. “Folks here don’t like bots.”“Because of the Great Separation, right?”“Bots killed a lot of people.”I decided I’d refrain from telling Dagwood that Grandpa was one of the battle bot designers. That probably wouldn’t go over well with his infantile psyche. My words would have to be chosen wisely. “Yeah, they did. But bots like this were built to serve.”“Serve how?”“Well, for starters, they can clean your house, make meals, do laundry, babysit kids, and even drive you around town.”My new friend leaned against the bench; it was obvious he was in deep thought. A moment later, he started chuckling. “I’d like a bot to do my homework!”I laughed along with him. “I don’t think this bot was smart enough for that.”“Did the ones you had help you?”“Occasionally.”“The new ones must be super smart, right?”“Pretty smart. They work like information databases. If I needed something, I’d tell them and they’d search the internet and find it for me.”“That’s cool. We have to go to the library and look through books here.” “The school has a library with books?”“Yeah. Didn’t your schools?”“No. Everything was electronic. I’d only seen one book in my life until I came here.”“Only one?!”“And it was an old one. But Grandpa has a whole room of them he saved.”“He has books, here?”“Uh, huh. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them.”“Where did he get them?”“He said he saved them from being burned during the war.”“They must be really cool books.”“I have a couple I’m reading…So odd to have to turn pages.”“I love the smell of old books.” Dagwood took in a deep breath and let it out. “I love the smell of smart.”“Umm, I think you mean the smell of intelligence.”He waved his hand as if to dismiss my correction. “Whatever.”“You can be smart and not have books.”“Obviously you are. But I think books tell a special story, not by just what is inside them, but how they look…What are you reading?”“A collection of short stories.”“I love those. By who?”“Some guy named Bradbury.”“Ray Bradbury?”“Think so.”“Would your grandpa let me borrow it when you get done?”“I’m sure he would.”Dagwood reached out and touched the bot’s right arm. “Can you make it work again?”“I don’t know.”“What will you do with it if you can make it work?”“Rory and I know that you have to get a license to have a bot.”“Yup.”“So if we can get it working again, it’s just going to stay in here, and we’ll disable it when we leave…I don’t want Grandpa Cranwinkle getting into trouble.”“No, he’s too nice to get in trouble.”I poked at a few wires that were hanging from a leg. “Dagwood?”“Yeah?”“You know this town well, right?”“Like the back of my hand!”“If someone had a bot, and needed some parts to fix it, where would they go?”He put his chin in his hand and scrunched his face. “I reckon the hardware store.”“You’re joking, right?”“No. Mr. Coates can order stuff—anything you want.”“He could get me parts for the bot?”“Yes, but that might not be good.”“Why?”“Because he’s friends with the sheriff. And if he tells that you have a bot—”“I see.”Dagwood’s face lit up and he thrust an index finger into the air. “I got it!”“What?”“Jimmy Pineapple.”“Huh?”“Well, that’s what we all calls him. His name is really Jimmy Pineppley.”“Who is he?”“Works for a guy who runs the local grain mill. They have a bot there.”“So?”“We could talk to Jimmy and see if he can order the parts—sayin’ that it’s to fix their bot.”“And what if the bot is newer than mine?”“Uh, I dunno. Just tryin’ to help you out.”“It’s appreciated. Can you introduce me to Jimmy?” My mind began to churn. “Sure. How about tomorrow?”“Sounds good.”Dagwood reached out and picked up a weighty leg like it was nothing. “Promise you’ll tell me more what it’s like in the Inner States?”“I can do that.”“You’re really nice, Jonah.” I smiled. “Thank you.”
“Jonah?” Grandma called from downstairs. “Jonah, Dagwood is here.”“Coming, Grandma!” I hollered. The thought crossed my mind if it was perhaps such a good idea to show Dagwood what we were up to. He didn’t strike me as the kind of kid who could keep a secret. But if we never get the bot working, it wouldn’t matter. On the way out of the room I grabbed my tablet. It was fully charged and still had the recent memory stick loaded into it. Perhaps I was hoping my father would give me some wisdom with his words. Although his work was decades more advanced than the dilapidated old bot we were fixing. Maybe something would jar my memory.I went downstairs and was met by Dagwood at the front door.“Hiya, Jonah.”“Hi,” I said, ushering him outside. “Rory probably has some homework to do.”“Will he come out later?”“Confident of that.”“What about your sister?”She’ll have nothing to do with our project.”“Your sister is pretty.”“Uh, yeah.” I led the way to the barn and opened the doors. “Mmm, her hair is the color of golden corn silk.”“Dagwood?”“She doesn’t like it here, does she?”“Nope. If Suz had her way, she’d be back in the Inner States.”“What’s it like there?” Dagwood followed along. “I hear only really smart people live there…I bet I’d be too dumb.”“Umm, no, that might not be the case,” I said, stopping at the workbench. “What do you mean?”“Well, if you have a marketable skill that brings in enough to put you above the income threshold, you could live there.”Dagwood gave me a blank stare. Evidently my words were above his comprehension level. “Naw, that sounds too hard. I think I’ll just stay here,” he replied. “Grandpa says you’ll make a fine farmer.”“He did?”“Yes.”“Oh, that was mighty nice of him. I wanna be just like my daddy.”“So do I.”“What do you mean?”“My daddy worked on bots.”“He did?”“Yup.” I reached out and pulled the crusty canvas tarp covering the sections of bot. “And that’s what I want to do.”“Gosh, is that a bot?”“What’s left of it,” I answered with an obvious frown. “Are you going to fix it up?”“That was our plan.” Picking up and arm, I inspected it. “If we can.”“So your daddy made bots?”“Yes, and Grandpa Cranwinkle too.”Dagwood put his hands over his mouth. “Oh, I didn’t know. He’s such a nice old man.” He got down to eye level with the workbench. “Folks here don’t like bots.”“Because of the Great Separation, right?”“Bots killed a lot of people.”I decided I’d refrain from telling Dagwood that Grandpa was one of the battle bot designers. That probably wouldn’t go over well with his infantile psyche. My words would have to be chosen wisely. “Yeah, they did. But bots like this were built to serve.”“Serve how?”“Well, for starters, they can clean your house, make meals, do laundry, babysit kids, and even drive you around town.”My new friend leaned against the bench; it was obvious he was in deep thought. A moment later, he started chuckling. “I’d like a bot to do my homework!”I laughed along with him. “I don’t think this bot was smart enough for that.”“Did the ones you had help you?”“Occasionally.”“The new ones must be super smart, right?”“Pretty smart. They work like information databases. If I needed something, I’d tell them and they’d search the internet and find it for me.”“That’s cool. We have to go to the library and look through books here.” “The school has a library with books?”“Yeah. Didn’t your schools?”“No. Everything was electronic. I’d only seen one book in my life until I came here.”“Only one?!”“And it was an old one. But Grandpa has a whole room of them he saved.”“He has books, here?”“Uh, huh. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them.”“Where did he get them?”“He said he saved them from being burned during the war.”“They must be really cool books.”“I have a couple I’m reading…So odd to have to turn pages.”“I love the smell of old books.” Dagwood took in a deep breath and let it out. “I love the smell of smart.”“Umm, I think you mean the smell of intelligence.”He waved his hand as if to dismiss my correction. “Whatever.”“You can be smart and not have books.”“Obviously you are. But I think books tell a special story, not by just what is inside them, but how they look…What are you reading?”“A collection of short stories.”“I love those. By who?”“Some guy named Bradbury.”“Ray Bradbury?”“Think so.”“Would your grandpa let me borrow it when you get done?”“I’m sure he would.”Dagwood reached out and touched the bot’s right arm. “Can you make it work again?”“I don’t know.”“What will you do with it if you can make it work?”“Rory and I know that you have to get a license to have a bot.”“Yup.”“So if we can get it working again, it’s just going to stay in here, and we’ll disable it when we leave…I don’t want Grandpa Cranwinkle getting into trouble.”“No, he’s too nice to get in trouble.”I poked at a few wires that were hanging from a leg. “Dagwood?”“Yeah?”“You know this town well, right?”“Like the back of my hand!”“If someone had a bot, and needed some parts to fix it, where would they go?”He put his chin in his hand and scrunched his face. “I reckon the hardware store.”“You’re joking, right?”“No. Mr. Coates can order stuff—anything you want.”“He could get me parts for the bot?”“Yes, but that might not be good.”“Why?”“Because he’s friends with the sheriff. And if he tells that you have a bot—”“I see.”Dagwood’s face lit up and he thrust an index finger into the air. “I got it!”“What?”“Jimmy Pineapple.”“Huh?”“Well, that’s what we all calls him. His name is really Jimmy Pineppley.”“Who is he?”“Works for a guy who runs the local grain mill. They have a bot there.”“So?”“We could talk to Jimmy and see if he can order the parts—sayin’ that it’s to fix their bot.”“And what if the bot is newer than mine?”“Uh, I dunno. Just tryin’ to help you out.”“It’s appreciated. Can you introduce me to Jimmy?” My mind began to churn. “Sure. How about tomorrow?”“Sounds good.”Dagwood reached out and picked up a weighty leg like it was nothing. “Promise you’ll tell me more what it’s like in the Inner States?”“I can do that.”“You’re really nice, Jonah.” I smiled. “Thank you.”
November 14, 2014
Servo 9:1
Servo 9:1
Fortunately, Mrs. Graham was in a good mood. The punishment was light, and it only meant I had to stay after school fifteen minutes. Rory and Suz did nothing but tease me about the whole incident. After I served my time, we hurried to the parking lot where Grandpa awaited. He looked a bit agitated. “Sorry, Grandpa, I was late to class after lunch and Mrs. Graham made me stay after school.”He raised an eyebrow. “Mrs. Graham?”“Yes.”“Mrs. Tilley Graham?”“Uh, I don’t know her first name, but she’s very old.”“Must be the same Graham. Not many here in Broken Bow.” Grandpa rubbed his whiskered chin. “My God, is she still teaching?”I nodded. “I guess so.”“She taught your mother.”For a moment, my brain was caught in a muddle. From what I was told, Grandma and Grandpa Cranwinkle had lived in the Inner States where he worked at Servidyne. How could Mrs. Graham have taught my mother? “Grandpa?”“Yes?”“How did she teach Mother? Didn’t you live in the Inner States?”“Not everyone wanted to stay after the Great Separation. Eliza—your Grandmother, and I left along with quite a few others. It just so happened that Mrs. Graham left the Inner States and came here…I didn’t realize she was still teaching though.”My mouth fell open slightly. “So she knows what we’ve come from?”Grandpa went to the driver’s side and opened the door. “Yes.”“She never said anything about it.”“Many of us don’t want to.”I climbed into the truck. The ride home was a quiet one. I began to get a good understanding of the people who left after the Great Separation. They wanted to be as far from the Inner States as possible. It seemed like they were ashamed of what we’d become. What was wrong with our world of intelligence, science, and technology? Why would someone want to live in the past? These people had become an enigma to me. Grandpa pulled up to the house and let us out. We tumbled from the truck and hurried up the stairs to the porch. I glanced over my shoulder and noticed the barn roof had been repaired. I wondered how much more severe weather we’d be seeing. Prickles ran down my spine as I thought about last night. Imminent death had only been a few dozen yards away. Living in a place like this was not for the faint of heart. Rory opened the door and we went inside. A wonderful aroma hit my nose and my stomach immediately started to growl. I heard Grandma in the kitchen. She was making something sweet, I smelled what I thought might be chocolate. I hoped it would be dessert after one of her fine meals. Dinner last night had been sandwiches because of the storm. Tonight it smelled like she was cooking something fabulous. Tromping up to our room, I put my backpack on the old trunk and commenced changing clothes. Mrs. Graham never gave us much homework, so I’d finished mine during my detention. Rory and Suz hung out in the courtyard, so I doubted they’d done their work. I pulled off my jeans and selected a pair that had been grease stained when I brushed by the tractor one day. Grandma said the stain would eventually wear out, but to keep these jeans for play. I’m not exactly sure what she meant by that; play in my terms consisted of networking our tablets together and attempting to access the Inner States informational databases. I was informed that in the past the action was called hacking. We just thought it was good fun to see how many times it took to break the main system computer’s password. For the most part, we weren’t interested in what the database held, just the password. We had to quit, however, when the Information Ministry installed software that registered any computer that tried to gain access. So much for our fun and games. Rory came in and dropped his bag on the bed. “Have you done your homework?”“Yeah. Why didn’t you while I was in detention?”“I was hanging out with Suz.”“So? You both could have had it done. There wasn’t much.”“Dagwood’s coming over, right?”“Yeah, he should be here anytime.”“And you’re going to show him the bot?”“That was my plan.”“Think he’s even smart enough to understand it?”“Rather irrelevant, don’t you think?”“So why show it to him at all?”“Because maybe I think it’s nice to finally have a friend. You don’t seem to be making a concerted effort.”“I’m trying. But the kids laugh at me.”“Why?”“Because I’m what they call a nerd.”“Nerd? What’s that mean?”“Evidently some kid that’s too smart for their own good.”“Maybe you should act dumber.”Rory punched me in the arm. “No way!”“Ow!” I retaliated, giving him a solid jab. “Maybe you shouldn’t act like you’re better than them.”“Why? You do.”“Not really…I think we’re going to have problems for a while. The kids here have never seen or been around GEE kids. They don’t realize we’re kids like them.”“I case you haven’t noticed, those kids think that playing in a dirt puddle is fun. They throw rocks into the pond, ride bicycles up and down dirt roads, and play in something called a corn silo. They have no understanding of our idea of play.”“Maybe we should learn their kind of play.”Rory dumped his school tablet out of the bag. “I don’t like getting dirty.”“No, that’s right, you don’t. Perhaps there’s some kind of clean activities we could do to fit in.”“Doubt it. Just look at this place: filth everywhere.”“It’s not that bad.”“Yes it is.” I ignored him in favor of picking up one of the books, cracking it open, and reading.
Fortunately, Mrs. Graham was in a good mood. The punishment was light, and it only meant I had to stay after school fifteen minutes. Rory and Suz did nothing but tease me about the whole incident. After I served my time, we hurried to the parking lot where Grandpa awaited. He looked a bit agitated. “Sorry, Grandpa, I was late to class after lunch and Mrs. Graham made me stay after school.”He raised an eyebrow. “Mrs. Graham?”“Yes.”“Mrs. Tilley Graham?”“Uh, I don’t know her first name, but she’s very old.”“Must be the same Graham. Not many here in Broken Bow.” Grandpa rubbed his whiskered chin. “My God, is she still teaching?”I nodded. “I guess so.”“She taught your mother.”For a moment, my brain was caught in a muddle. From what I was told, Grandma and Grandpa Cranwinkle had lived in the Inner States where he worked at Servidyne. How could Mrs. Graham have taught my mother? “Grandpa?”“Yes?”“How did she teach Mother? Didn’t you live in the Inner States?”“Not everyone wanted to stay after the Great Separation. Eliza—your Grandmother, and I left along with quite a few others. It just so happened that Mrs. Graham left the Inner States and came here…I didn’t realize she was still teaching though.”My mouth fell open slightly. “So she knows what we’ve come from?”Grandpa went to the driver’s side and opened the door. “Yes.”“She never said anything about it.”“Many of us don’t want to.”I climbed into the truck. The ride home was a quiet one. I began to get a good understanding of the people who left after the Great Separation. They wanted to be as far from the Inner States as possible. It seemed like they were ashamed of what we’d become. What was wrong with our world of intelligence, science, and technology? Why would someone want to live in the past? These people had become an enigma to me. Grandpa pulled up to the house and let us out. We tumbled from the truck and hurried up the stairs to the porch. I glanced over my shoulder and noticed the barn roof had been repaired. I wondered how much more severe weather we’d be seeing. Prickles ran down my spine as I thought about last night. Imminent death had only been a few dozen yards away. Living in a place like this was not for the faint of heart. Rory opened the door and we went inside. A wonderful aroma hit my nose and my stomach immediately started to growl. I heard Grandma in the kitchen. She was making something sweet, I smelled what I thought might be chocolate. I hoped it would be dessert after one of her fine meals. Dinner last night had been sandwiches because of the storm. Tonight it smelled like she was cooking something fabulous. Tromping up to our room, I put my backpack on the old trunk and commenced changing clothes. Mrs. Graham never gave us much homework, so I’d finished mine during my detention. Rory and Suz hung out in the courtyard, so I doubted they’d done their work. I pulled off my jeans and selected a pair that had been grease stained when I brushed by the tractor one day. Grandma said the stain would eventually wear out, but to keep these jeans for play. I’m not exactly sure what she meant by that; play in my terms consisted of networking our tablets together and attempting to access the Inner States informational databases. I was informed that in the past the action was called hacking. We just thought it was good fun to see how many times it took to break the main system computer’s password. For the most part, we weren’t interested in what the database held, just the password. We had to quit, however, when the Information Ministry installed software that registered any computer that tried to gain access. So much for our fun and games. Rory came in and dropped his bag on the bed. “Have you done your homework?”“Yeah. Why didn’t you while I was in detention?”“I was hanging out with Suz.”“So? You both could have had it done. There wasn’t much.”“Dagwood’s coming over, right?”“Yeah, he should be here anytime.”“And you’re going to show him the bot?”“That was my plan.”“Think he’s even smart enough to understand it?”“Rather irrelevant, don’t you think?”“So why show it to him at all?”“Because maybe I think it’s nice to finally have a friend. You don’t seem to be making a concerted effort.”“I’m trying. But the kids laugh at me.”“Why?”“Because I’m what they call a nerd.”“Nerd? What’s that mean?”“Evidently some kid that’s too smart for their own good.”“Maybe you should act dumber.”Rory punched me in the arm. “No way!”“Ow!” I retaliated, giving him a solid jab. “Maybe you shouldn’t act like you’re better than them.”“Why? You do.”“Not really…I think we’re going to have problems for a while. The kids here have never seen or been around GEE kids. They don’t realize we’re kids like them.”“I case you haven’t noticed, those kids think that playing in a dirt puddle is fun. They throw rocks into the pond, ride bicycles up and down dirt roads, and play in something called a corn silo. They have no understanding of our idea of play.”“Maybe we should learn their kind of play.”Rory dumped his school tablet out of the bag. “I don’t like getting dirty.”“No, that’s right, you don’t. Perhaps there’s some kind of clean activities we could do to fit in.”“Doubt it. Just look at this place: filth everywhere.”“It’s not that bad.”“Yes it is.” I ignored him in favor of picking up one of the books, cracking it open, and reading.
November 7, 2014
Servo 8:3
Servo 8:3
Dagwood caught me as we emerged from our “classroom” for lunch. “Hey, Jonah, did you see that storm last night?”“Yes, rather terrifying.”“Did you see the tornado go right between our farms?”“No. Grandpa had us in the cellar.”“I watched it head for your house. I was afraid for you. Glad you’re safe.”“Thanks. Was everyone in your family okay?”“One of our cows got sucked up. Found her dead near the road this morning.”“How horrible!”Dagwood shrugged his shoulders. “Part of livin’ in these parts. We’re just happy for the rain.”He followed along behind me as I headed for the lunch court area. There were scattered tree branches and leaves everywhere. The storm had evidently been quite large. Some of the school groundskeepers were trying to clear them away. I found our usual table and sat down. Rory and Suz hovered nearby, choosing to stand while eating. I figured they weren’t overjoyed with my choice of friends. Although low on the IQ chart, Dagwood was at least someone who’d made an attempt to befriend me. Granted I wasn’t in the market to have dozens of friends, but I figured having one that was local to the area and knew things might be handy. I felt confident that if I ever needed help, he’d be there for me. “Hey, Jonah?”“Mmm?”“Whatcha doin’ after school?”“Rory and I have a project we’ve been working on.” “Oh?”“It’s a big secret.”“Oh, I love secrets! What is it?”“Shhhhhhh!”“Please, tell me,” he begged.“Absolutely positively no one can know about it, okay?”“I promise I won’t tell.” He crossed his finger across his chest.“Come by Grandpa Cranwinkle’s barn after school.”I watched Dagwood’s eyes light up. “Okay! Okay!”We finished lunch and I tried to divert the conversation from our secret project to something else. “Grandpa says you grow switchgrass on your farm.”“Yeah. Doesn’t need a whole lot of water to grow.”“Is it difficult to harvest?”Dagwood shook his head. “Not really. We have stuff for that.”“Oh? You have a bot?”“Huh?” He gave me a strange look. “No, it’s called a tractor. A BIG machine that Daddy drives through the field cutting the grass.”“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Grandpa has one too.”“My Daddy’s is much bigger. And he has this piece of equipment called a disc mower. It cuts the grass lickety-split.”“But no bots?”“Ro-bots?”“Yeah.”“No way!”“Well, why not?” I cocked my head to one side.“Oh, no, bots are just too expensive. And they don’t like us having ’em.”“But it would make things easier for you, right?”Dagwood rubbed his chin. I could see a faint outline of stubble on his face. Despite his boyish mannerisms, there was a man growing inside that thick body of his. “I don’t think farmin’ is hard. I like it.” He reached down and picked up a couple pebbles from the blacktop. “I like to know where my food comes from, how it’s made, and I like having a part in that.”“You don’t eat switchgrass.”“No, but Ma has a big garden I help tend. And we have cows and some chickens.”“Ah.”The bell sounded, ending lunchtime.“You should come see my chickens, I won first prize in the State Fair last year.”“Congratulations,” I said, collecting my things. “If you still wanna see our secret project—”“Oh, I do! I do!”“Then come by later and we’ll show you.”“Okay, I will. But gotta do my homework first.” He stood and looked at me. “Is your homework hard?”“Not really. Mrs. Graham doesn’t give us much.”“Gosh!”“We didn’t get homework when we lived in the Inner States.”“Why not?”“Our school had ten hour days. By the time we got done, there was no need for homework.”“I bet your school was hard.”“Challenging, more like.”The second bell rang indicating we needed to get to class. Suz and Rory left me in the dust. “Hey, we better get to class.”“I’ll see you later.” I dashed across the yard and into the building. Our classroom was at the end of a long hall. My feet pounded on the buffed concrete floor making a loud echo. All the other students were in their classes. I was now tardy. Mrs. Graham would not be pleased.
Dagwood caught me as we emerged from our “classroom” for lunch. “Hey, Jonah, did you see that storm last night?”“Yes, rather terrifying.”“Did you see the tornado go right between our farms?”“No. Grandpa had us in the cellar.”“I watched it head for your house. I was afraid for you. Glad you’re safe.”“Thanks. Was everyone in your family okay?”“One of our cows got sucked up. Found her dead near the road this morning.”“How horrible!”Dagwood shrugged his shoulders. “Part of livin’ in these parts. We’re just happy for the rain.”He followed along behind me as I headed for the lunch court area. There were scattered tree branches and leaves everywhere. The storm had evidently been quite large. Some of the school groundskeepers were trying to clear them away. I found our usual table and sat down. Rory and Suz hovered nearby, choosing to stand while eating. I figured they weren’t overjoyed with my choice of friends. Although low on the IQ chart, Dagwood was at least someone who’d made an attempt to befriend me. Granted I wasn’t in the market to have dozens of friends, but I figured having one that was local to the area and knew things might be handy. I felt confident that if I ever needed help, he’d be there for me. “Hey, Jonah?”“Mmm?”“Whatcha doin’ after school?”“Rory and I have a project we’ve been working on.” “Oh?”“It’s a big secret.”“Oh, I love secrets! What is it?”“Shhhhhhh!”“Please, tell me,” he begged.“Absolutely positively no one can know about it, okay?”“I promise I won’t tell.” He crossed his finger across his chest.“Come by Grandpa Cranwinkle’s barn after school.”I watched Dagwood’s eyes light up. “Okay! Okay!”We finished lunch and I tried to divert the conversation from our secret project to something else. “Grandpa says you grow switchgrass on your farm.”“Yeah. Doesn’t need a whole lot of water to grow.”“Is it difficult to harvest?”Dagwood shook his head. “Not really. We have stuff for that.”“Oh? You have a bot?”“Huh?” He gave me a strange look. “No, it’s called a tractor. A BIG machine that Daddy drives through the field cutting the grass.”“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Grandpa has one too.”“My Daddy’s is much bigger. And he has this piece of equipment called a disc mower. It cuts the grass lickety-split.”“But no bots?”“Ro-bots?”“Yeah.”“No way!”“Well, why not?” I cocked my head to one side.“Oh, no, bots are just too expensive. And they don’t like us having ’em.”“But it would make things easier for you, right?”Dagwood rubbed his chin. I could see a faint outline of stubble on his face. Despite his boyish mannerisms, there was a man growing inside that thick body of his. “I don’t think farmin’ is hard. I like it.” He reached down and picked up a couple pebbles from the blacktop. “I like to know where my food comes from, how it’s made, and I like having a part in that.”“You don’t eat switchgrass.”“No, but Ma has a big garden I help tend. And we have cows and some chickens.”“Ah.”The bell sounded, ending lunchtime.“You should come see my chickens, I won first prize in the State Fair last year.”“Congratulations,” I said, collecting my things. “If you still wanna see our secret project—”“Oh, I do! I do!”“Then come by later and we’ll show you.”“Okay, I will. But gotta do my homework first.” He stood and looked at me. “Is your homework hard?”“Not really. Mrs. Graham doesn’t give us much.”“Gosh!”“We didn’t get homework when we lived in the Inner States.”“Why not?”“Our school had ten hour days. By the time we got done, there was no need for homework.”“I bet your school was hard.”“Challenging, more like.”The second bell rang indicating we needed to get to class. Suz and Rory left me in the dust. “Hey, we better get to class.”“I’ll see you later.” I dashed across the yard and into the building. Our classroom was at the end of a long hall. My feet pounded on the buffed concrete floor making a loud echo. All the other students were in their classes. I was now tardy. Mrs. Graham would not be pleased.
October 31, 2014
Servo 8:2
Servo 8:2
The next morning was bright and beautiful. One would never guess the hell that was visited upon us the previous evening. I awoke to the sun seeping through the lacy curtains. Throwing off the covers, I hopped out of bed and went to the window. The alarm clock would be sounding in a couple minutes. As I pulled back the curtain, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Behind the house used to stand a massive old tree. I wasn’t sure what kind it was, but now it lay in a tangled heap of twisted brown and green. There were tree limbs from kinds of trees I didn’t think grew on the property, and debris everywhere. What on Earth happened? Had there been a tornado? Pieces of wood and metal were strewn about. Panic overwhelmed me. Had the barn been hit? Was our dear, precious bot scattered over several counties? I felt a sinking feeling. Squinting my eyes some, I tried to scan the area for anything gold-colored. Nothing immediately stood out. I decided to go downstairs and take a look out the front window. That would give me proof-positive of the barn’s demise. I grabbed my thin dark blue robe from the bedpost and slid into it. Since the weather was fairly warm, I’d gone to sleeping in nothing but a pair of soft shorts. Rory opted for the same. I slipped out the door just before the alarm commenced its morning annoyance. Once downstairs, I crept to the window and parted the curtains. To my grand relief, the barn still stood. The roof on the side by the doors had taken some damage, a couple sheets of tin had peeled up. I figured that by day’s end Grandpa would have it fixed. A faint sigh escaped me as I turned to go upstairs. Our bot was still there. It may take us years to get it running again, but at least the storm spared it. As I trudged up the steps, the door to our room opened and Rory staggered out, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked.“Did you look out the window?”“No.”“The storm made a huge mess.”“So?”“I thought maybe a tornado went through. I was just checking to see if the barn was still standing.”Rory’s mouth opened slightly. No words came out.“It has some damage, but I think the bot is fine.” I nudged my way past him in order to get dressed for school.“Things like that would never happen back home,” he said, joining me in the morning ritual of figuring out what to wear. In the Inner States, it was easy: just put on a clean uniform and you’re ready to go. This picking and choosing was proving to be annoying. It was one thing I agreed on with Suz. So far my dear sister had done everything in her power to make as many enemies as possible. Her stunt with Grandpa last night just confirmed that. As to why she had so much hatred of this place, I’ll never know. Perhaps it was the immediate yanking away from everything she knew and felt comfortable with that turned her sour, I can’t be sure. As for me and Rory, we’re trying our best to make it work. We don’t have any other choice; this is home now.After dressing, we went down for breakfast. Grandma was at her usual place tending food that was sizzling on the stove. “Good morning, children,” she said in an upbeat tone. “Did you get any sleep last night?”“Some,” I replied. “Did a tornado go through?”Grandma flipped a couple of pancakes before answering. “Not sure, but looks like it.”“Which way did it go?” Rory asked as he slid into his chair.“I don’t know.”“Do you think people died?”“That’s always a possibility.” She removed the pancakes to a plate and brought them to the table. “I don’t recall hearing the sirens last night.” Grandpa came in followed by Suz. She looked a bit on the ragged side. I guess she didn’t sleep too well in the storm. “Good morning, Suzette,” Grandma said, pouring juice in glasses.“Uh, yeah.” Suz plopped down.“Hey, Suz, Grandma thinks a tornado went through last night,” Rory said.“Oh, great,” she replied, yawning. Grandpa took his seat at the head of the table. “I see the barn got damaged. Heck of a storm. Wonder how much rain we got?”“They need rain here, right? The farmers need rain?” Rory picked up his glass and took a sip. “Things don’t grow without it.”“No, they don’t…I’ve been trying to grow corn here for two years. Tried soybeans for two years before that…Nothing!”“Don’t they have irrigation here?” Suz said in an irritatingly snide tone. “That solves all the water problems.”“It would solve mine, except there’s no water under my land. We tried for years to sink wells and nothing came of it.” Grandpa took a piece of toast and buttered it. “Way back in the early twenty-first century, the aquifer here went dry. They thought the rains would refill it, but they haven’t.”“Who is they?”“Scientists, of course.”“Evidently they were wrong.”“Yes.”“So why did you buy this farm if you knew there was no water?”“I bought it because the land and the house spoke to me.”Suz raised an eyebrow. “Spoke to you? How absurd!”“We were reassured that over time the aquifer would refill.”“But it hasn’t.”“Not that we can see.”“So all you can do is rely on the rain, which is hasn’t done much of.”Grandpa slowly nodded. It seemed that he didn’t want to continue this conversation. “So, Jonah, you’re friends with Dagwood?”“Yeah, kinda,” I replied.“He’s a good boy…Not exactly the most brilliant soul, but he’s a fine young farmer. I think he’ll follow in his Daddy’s footsteps.”“So what are they growing?”“Something called switchgrass.”“To make hay out of?”“No, they sell it to make fuel—biofuel.”“Oh, the stuff our vehicles runs on,” Suz added.“Exactly. And if I weren’t so darn stubborn, I suppose I could plant it as well.”“Why are you stubborn?”“Because corn still pays better.”“It doesn’t pay anything if you can’t grow it.” “Thank you, Suzette, I’m well aware of that. But it’s getting too late in the season to plow the corn under and start over. Maybe this storm is just the first of many. We need the rain badly.”
The next morning was bright and beautiful. One would never guess the hell that was visited upon us the previous evening. I awoke to the sun seeping through the lacy curtains. Throwing off the covers, I hopped out of bed and went to the window. The alarm clock would be sounding in a couple minutes. As I pulled back the curtain, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Behind the house used to stand a massive old tree. I wasn’t sure what kind it was, but now it lay in a tangled heap of twisted brown and green. There were tree limbs from kinds of trees I didn’t think grew on the property, and debris everywhere. What on Earth happened? Had there been a tornado? Pieces of wood and metal were strewn about. Panic overwhelmed me. Had the barn been hit? Was our dear, precious bot scattered over several counties? I felt a sinking feeling. Squinting my eyes some, I tried to scan the area for anything gold-colored. Nothing immediately stood out. I decided to go downstairs and take a look out the front window. That would give me proof-positive of the barn’s demise. I grabbed my thin dark blue robe from the bedpost and slid into it. Since the weather was fairly warm, I’d gone to sleeping in nothing but a pair of soft shorts. Rory opted for the same. I slipped out the door just before the alarm commenced its morning annoyance. Once downstairs, I crept to the window and parted the curtains. To my grand relief, the barn still stood. The roof on the side by the doors had taken some damage, a couple sheets of tin had peeled up. I figured that by day’s end Grandpa would have it fixed. A faint sigh escaped me as I turned to go upstairs. Our bot was still there. It may take us years to get it running again, but at least the storm spared it. As I trudged up the steps, the door to our room opened and Rory staggered out, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked.“Did you look out the window?”“No.”“The storm made a huge mess.”“So?”“I thought maybe a tornado went through. I was just checking to see if the barn was still standing.”Rory’s mouth opened slightly. No words came out.“It has some damage, but I think the bot is fine.” I nudged my way past him in order to get dressed for school.“Things like that would never happen back home,” he said, joining me in the morning ritual of figuring out what to wear. In the Inner States, it was easy: just put on a clean uniform and you’re ready to go. This picking and choosing was proving to be annoying. It was one thing I agreed on with Suz. So far my dear sister had done everything in her power to make as many enemies as possible. Her stunt with Grandpa last night just confirmed that. As to why she had so much hatred of this place, I’ll never know. Perhaps it was the immediate yanking away from everything she knew and felt comfortable with that turned her sour, I can’t be sure. As for me and Rory, we’re trying our best to make it work. We don’t have any other choice; this is home now.After dressing, we went down for breakfast. Grandma was at her usual place tending food that was sizzling on the stove. “Good morning, children,” she said in an upbeat tone. “Did you get any sleep last night?”“Some,” I replied. “Did a tornado go through?”Grandma flipped a couple of pancakes before answering. “Not sure, but looks like it.”“Which way did it go?” Rory asked as he slid into his chair.“I don’t know.”“Do you think people died?”“That’s always a possibility.” She removed the pancakes to a plate and brought them to the table. “I don’t recall hearing the sirens last night.” Grandpa came in followed by Suz. She looked a bit on the ragged side. I guess she didn’t sleep too well in the storm. “Good morning, Suzette,” Grandma said, pouring juice in glasses.“Uh, yeah.” Suz plopped down.“Hey, Suz, Grandma thinks a tornado went through last night,” Rory said.“Oh, great,” she replied, yawning. Grandpa took his seat at the head of the table. “I see the barn got damaged. Heck of a storm. Wonder how much rain we got?”“They need rain here, right? The farmers need rain?” Rory picked up his glass and took a sip. “Things don’t grow without it.”“No, they don’t…I’ve been trying to grow corn here for two years. Tried soybeans for two years before that…Nothing!”“Don’t they have irrigation here?” Suz said in an irritatingly snide tone. “That solves all the water problems.”“It would solve mine, except there’s no water under my land. We tried for years to sink wells and nothing came of it.” Grandpa took a piece of toast and buttered it. “Way back in the early twenty-first century, the aquifer here went dry. They thought the rains would refill it, but they haven’t.”“Who is they?”“Scientists, of course.”“Evidently they were wrong.”“Yes.”“So why did you buy this farm if you knew there was no water?”“I bought it because the land and the house spoke to me.”Suz raised an eyebrow. “Spoke to you? How absurd!”“We were reassured that over time the aquifer would refill.”“But it hasn’t.”“Not that we can see.”“So all you can do is rely on the rain, which is hasn’t done much of.”Grandpa slowly nodded. It seemed that he didn’t want to continue this conversation. “So, Jonah, you’re friends with Dagwood?”“Yeah, kinda,” I replied.“He’s a good boy…Not exactly the most brilliant soul, but he’s a fine young farmer. I think he’ll follow in his Daddy’s footsteps.”“So what are they growing?”“Something called switchgrass.”“To make hay out of?”“No, they sell it to make fuel—biofuel.”“Oh, the stuff our vehicles runs on,” Suz added.“Exactly. And if I weren’t so darn stubborn, I suppose I could plant it as well.”“Why are you stubborn?”“Because corn still pays better.”“It doesn’t pay anything if you can’t grow it.” “Thank you, Suzette, I’m well aware of that. But it’s getting too late in the season to plow the corn under and start over. Maybe this storm is just the first of many. We need the rain badly.”
