Servo 18:3
Servo 18:3
After school, Grandpa was impatiently waiting for us. He’d had no luck in his day of making phone calls. Suz had vanished into thin air. I could tell he was worried. The lines on his face were more deeply etched than I’d ever seen them. His brow was furrowed, eyes contracted yet sorrowful. We got home and Rory and I went upstairs to change. We put on our “barn duds” as grandpa called them and came down to the kitchen for our afternoon snack. We were greeted with fresh made chocolate chip cookies and tall glasses of milk. We destroyed the sweet treats. In the hallway, I could hear grandpa on the phone. His voice had a strong helping of anxiety to it. I hoped Suz’s disappearance would not be the death of him. Grandpa did look a bit pale.When I’d finished my snack, I quietly crept into the hallway. Grandpa had his back to the kitchen, so was probably unaware of my presence. I listened to his conversation. He was talking to someone at the local airport; I clearly heard him mention flights to the Inner States. Did he think my sister had left via plane? I didn’t think Suz had enough allowance money for a plane ticket. Grandpa concluded the call and picked up the phone book, searching for a number.I quietly excused myself. As I headed out the door, I heard him talking to the sheriff. Rory decided to follow me to the barn. “Do you think she’ll come back?” my brother asked.“I dunno. She’s an adult; she can do what she wants.”“Aren’t you worried?”“Yeah, I am. But what can I do?”“Nothing, I suppose.”We reached the barn and opened one of the doors. In the distance, I spied dark clouds billowing in the west. “Looks like a storm’s coming.”“A big one.”“Grandpa did say we needed rain.”“That looks like a lot of rain.” Once inside, we went to the workbench. The bot lay covered with a tarp. I’d put everything back together, the memory core was now error-free, and my next plan was to implant the second core into the bot’s chest and wire everything together. I don’t know why I was bothering, the darn thing refused to work. Even with a perfect core, the bot would do nothing but make ticking, whirring, and clicking noises and the one eye would light up faintly. I was beginning to think it would never work.I removed the top off the shoebox. It had made its way from my bedroom to the barn. Normally such a simple object would be tossed in the recycle bin and immediately erased from sight. Out here, things tended to live longer more useful lives—sometimes for years or even decades. Grandma showed me some old photos that she kept in a shoebox that she said were nearly one hundred years old. The box itself was dog-eared, yellowed, and tattered. I did not ask, but I wondered about its age as well. The second core rested in a wad of pink tissue paper. I couldn’t find anything else static-free to place it in, so the paper that came from one of Suz’s Christmas presents had to do. “Are you going to put it in today?” Rory asked, gesturing to the box.“Yeah, but I don’t know why I’m bothering.”“Maybe one day it’ll work.”I regarded him with a deep frown. “As if by magic?”He shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno.”“Doubtful. Somewhere in this thing is a wrong wire, frayed wire, a single line of code that’s messed up, or something that I just can’t find. If Dad were here, he’d have it up and running in no time.”Rory sighed. “But he’s not.”I felt an intense pain in my chest. How I missed him more than ever. Why did he have to die so young? So soon? Why did he have to leave us on our own? It was bad enough when our mother died, but to have both parents gone was just something kids shouldn’t have to deal with. Parents were supposed to be there for graduations, marriages, and grandkids. A wave of thunder rumbled over the farm. The old barn trembled, dust fell from the rafters. Somewhere I swore I heard a mouse scurrying for cover. Spring storms could be quite violent. “Better get moving,” Rory said as he looked out the window. “Storm could be here soon.”“If you wanna go in, go ahead. This is delicate work. It’s going to take me awhile.”He watched me for a long moment. “I think I will.”“Fine,” I replied, removing the bot’s chest plate. “I’ll keep an eye out. If it gets too bad, I’ll come in.”“Okay.” He said nothing further and left me to my work. My fingers moved deftly, sorting and pushing wires out of the way. The chest cavity of the bot was crammed full. Actuators, servos, small pistons that ran the limbs, loads of wire, the main battery, and auxiliary power solenoid filled nearly every inch of space. There was nowhere in the bot’s head to put the second core, it was jammed with functional memory cards, more wires, the core and junction interface, optical components, and speech synthesizing drives. Not to mention all the auditory sensors and actuators that made up the bot’s ears. Despite the age of the bot, it was surprisingly complex. In newer bots, all the components had been miniaturized to nearly one-third of what these parts were. Thunder boomed overhead. I jumped. Then I heard hard drops of rain hitting the tin roof. I checked out the window to make sure it wasn’t hail. We quickly learned that hail was a bad sign when it came to warm spring storms. Coupled with wind, it could devastate an entire area, not to mention spawn my least favorite of weather anomalies: tornadoes. I tried to ignore the racket above and concentrate on running a new wire through some tricky areas in the bot’s face. It would need to be passed down the neck and into the chest before connecting the second core. Still, I had my doubts about the bot ever working. It was ancient, the parts I was using weren’t exactly in great shape, and it had been in this barn for decades. My father told me that sometimes things will just never work, no matter how much you fix them. Surely this wasn’t the case? I didn’t want to believe all these months of hard work were to be for naught. A crackle of lightning flashed outside the window. A moment later, the roar of a rumbling freight train as the thunder steamed past. Everything shook. It was shaping up to be a nasty storm. I wanted badly to get the second core wired up. Why? I dunno. I guess I was being obsessive about the bot so I could try and hide my feelings about Suz’s disappearance. Something in my mind feared the worst. Taking a deep breath to settle my nerves, I narrowed my eyes and focused on the wiring. Miraculously, my ears seemed to shut off, buffering the savage tempest raging outside. I was in the zone, the place where scientists aspired to be. Nothing was going to stop me from completing my mission. My fingers worked almost uncontrolled. The thin wire slipped and looped around and over various bot components. I’m sure it took me at least a half hour, but in my mind, it took mere seconds. Now the wire was connected from the core in the bot’s head, down the neck, and into the chest. That left only to wire in the second core. Dust rained down on me as another vicious explosion of thunder shook the barn. I went to the window and discovered a total deluge. It was raining so hard I could barely see the field. That much rain couldn’t be a good thing. Puddles were rapidly forming on the ground. I watched flashes of lightning reflect off them. And then I noticed the sky was an eerie pea-soup color. It was now or never. Returning to the bench, I picked up a small pair of needle-nose pliers and prepared to make the final connection. The wire needed to be pulled under the right actuation servo for the arm and brought around to where its “heart” would be. Then I would insert the core into a tiny space and crimp the wire to the exposed terminal. Child’s play, really, but when it sounds like the earth is coming to an end around you, things get crazy. With the wire in place, I quickly grabbed the core from the shoebox and wiggled it into position. A second later, the wire was attached. The barn shook with a huge crash of thunder. I wanted no more of this insanity. Putting the chest plate back on, I covered the bot, and tore from the barn. I knew where everyone else was: the basement. And that’s where I wanted to be.
After school, Grandpa was impatiently waiting for us. He’d had no luck in his day of making phone calls. Suz had vanished into thin air. I could tell he was worried. The lines on his face were more deeply etched than I’d ever seen them. His brow was furrowed, eyes contracted yet sorrowful. We got home and Rory and I went upstairs to change. We put on our “barn duds” as grandpa called them and came down to the kitchen for our afternoon snack. We were greeted with fresh made chocolate chip cookies and tall glasses of milk. We destroyed the sweet treats. In the hallway, I could hear grandpa on the phone. His voice had a strong helping of anxiety to it. I hoped Suz’s disappearance would not be the death of him. Grandpa did look a bit pale.When I’d finished my snack, I quietly crept into the hallway. Grandpa had his back to the kitchen, so was probably unaware of my presence. I listened to his conversation. He was talking to someone at the local airport; I clearly heard him mention flights to the Inner States. Did he think my sister had left via plane? I didn’t think Suz had enough allowance money for a plane ticket. Grandpa concluded the call and picked up the phone book, searching for a number.I quietly excused myself. As I headed out the door, I heard him talking to the sheriff. Rory decided to follow me to the barn. “Do you think she’ll come back?” my brother asked.“I dunno. She’s an adult; she can do what she wants.”“Aren’t you worried?”“Yeah, I am. But what can I do?”“Nothing, I suppose.”We reached the barn and opened one of the doors. In the distance, I spied dark clouds billowing in the west. “Looks like a storm’s coming.”“A big one.”“Grandpa did say we needed rain.”“That looks like a lot of rain.” Once inside, we went to the workbench. The bot lay covered with a tarp. I’d put everything back together, the memory core was now error-free, and my next plan was to implant the second core into the bot’s chest and wire everything together. I don’t know why I was bothering, the darn thing refused to work. Even with a perfect core, the bot would do nothing but make ticking, whirring, and clicking noises and the one eye would light up faintly. I was beginning to think it would never work.I removed the top off the shoebox. It had made its way from my bedroom to the barn. Normally such a simple object would be tossed in the recycle bin and immediately erased from sight. Out here, things tended to live longer more useful lives—sometimes for years or even decades. Grandma showed me some old photos that she kept in a shoebox that she said were nearly one hundred years old. The box itself was dog-eared, yellowed, and tattered. I did not ask, but I wondered about its age as well. The second core rested in a wad of pink tissue paper. I couldn’t find anything else static-free to place it in, so the paper that came from one of Suz’s Christmas presents had to do. “Are you going to put it in today?” Rory asked, gesturing to the box.“Yeah, but I don’t know why I’m bothering.”“Maybe one day it’ll work.”I regarded him with a deep frown. “As if by magic?”He shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno.”“Doubtful. Somewhere in this thing is a wrong wire, frayed wire, a single line of code that’s messed up, or something that I just can’t find. If Dad were here, he’d have it up and running in no time.”Rory sighed. “But he’s not.”I felt an intense pain in my chest. How I missed him more than ever. Why did he have to die so young? So soon? Why did he have to leave us on our own? It was bad enough when our mother died, but to have both parents gone was just something kids shouldn’t have to deal with. Parents were supposed to be there for graduations, marriages, and grandkids. A wave of thunder rumbled over the farm. The old barn trembled, dust fell from the rafters. Somewhere I swore I heard a mouse scurrying for cover. Spring storms could be quite violent. “Better get moving,” Rory said as he looked out the window. “Storm could be here soon.”“If you wanna go in, go ahead. This is delicate work. It’s going to take me awhile.”He watched me for a long moment. “I think I will.”“Fine,” I replied, removing the bot’s chest plate. “I’ll keep an eye out. If it gets too bad, I’ll come in.”“Okay.” He said nothing further and left me to my work. My fingers moved deftly, sorting and pushing wires out of the way. The chest cavity of the bot was crammed full. Actuators, servos, small pistons that ran the limbs, loads of wire, the main battery, and auxiliary power solenoid filled nearly every inch of space. There was nowhere in the bot’s head to put the second core, it was jammed with functional memory cards, more wires, the core and junction interface, optical components, and speech synthesizing drives. Not to mention all the auditory sensors and actuators that made up the bot’s ears. Despite the age of the bot, it was surprisingly complex. In newer bots, all the components had been miniaturized to nearly one-third of what these parts were. Thunder boomed overhead. I jumped. Then I heard hard drops of rain hitting the tin roof. I checked out the window to make sure it wasn’t hail. We quickly learned that hail was a bad sign when it came to warm spring storms. Coupled with wind, it could devastate an entire area, not to mention spawn my least favorite of weather anomalies: tornadoes. I tried to ignore the racket above and concentrate on running a new wire through some tricky areas in the bot’s face. It would need to be passed down the neck and into the chest before connecting the second core. Still, I had my doubts about the bot ever working. It was ancient, the parts I was using weren’t exactly in great shape, and it had been in this barn for decades. My father told me that sometimes things will just never work, no matter how much you fix them. Surely this wasn’t the case? I didn’t want to believe all these months of hard work were to be for naught. A crackle of lightning flashed outside the window. A moment later, the roar of a rumbling freight train as the thunder steamed past. Everything shook. It was shaping up to be a nasty storm. I wanted badly to get the second core wired up. Why? I dunno. I guess I was being obsessive about the bot so I could try and hide my feelings about Suz’s disappearance. Something in my mind feared the worst. Taking a deep breath to settle my nerves, I narrowed my eyes and focused on the wiring. Miraculously, my ears seemed to shut off, buffering the savage tempest raging outside. I was in the zone, the place where scientists aspired to be. Nothing was going to stop me from completing my mission. My fingers worked almost uncontrolled. The thin wire slipped and looped around and over various bot components. I’m sure it took me at least a half hour, but in my mind, it took mere seconds. Now the wire was connected from the core in the bot’s head, down the neck, and into the chest. That left only to wire in the second core. Dust rained down on me as another vicious explosion of thunder shook the barn. I went to the window and discovered a total deluge. It was raining so hard I could barely see the field. That much rain couldn’t be a good thing. Puddles were rapidly forming on the ground. I watched flashes of lightning reflect off them. And then I noticed the sky was an eerie pea-soup color. It was now or never. Returning to the bench, I picked up a small pair of needle-nose pliers and prepared to make the final connection. The wire needed to be pulled under the right actuation servo for the arm and brought around to where its “heart” would be. Then I would insert the core into a tiny space and crimp the wire to the exposed terminal. Child’s play, really, but when it sounds like the earth is coming to an end around you, things get crazy. With the wire in place, I quickly grabbed the core from the shoebox and wiggled it into position. A second later, the wire was attached. The barn shook with a huge crash of thunder. I wanted no more of this insanity. Putting the chest plate back on, I covered the bot, and tore from the barn. I knew where everyone else was: the basement. And that’s where I wanted to be.
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