Servo 23:1
Servo 23:1
We pedaled home from town, our backpacks laden with clothes and other “necessities” that we’d need on our journey. As we neared the train tracks, I listened. Did I hear a train? I stopped the bike and pivoted my head around trying to find the source of the noise.“What are you doing?” Rory asked.“Listening for a train.”I saw him cocking his head oddly about. “I think I hear one!”Checking my watch, I saw it was close to two in the afternoon. “Let’s ride over to the switching yard and see.”It took only a few minutes and we’d arrived at outskirts of the yard. Freight cars were lined up on one track, apparently waiting for a train to get them. We hid behind the corner of a building and watched. In the distance, coming from the east, a train approached. As it neared a road crossing, it blared the horn, causing me to jump. Rory laughed.“Not funny!” I grumbled.“Yes it is.”The train slowed to a crawl and entered the yard. Its rumbling diesel engine caused my insides to vibrate—what an odd feeling. We observed the lengthy train rattle along until the last car was nearly out of sight. Then we heard the screech of brakes. Two men scurried around, throwing heavy switches. A few more minutes passed and the train began to back up. The last few cars changed direction, going onto the new set of tracks. And then a loud crash as the couplings connected. “Looks like it’s going west,” Rory said above the noise.“Not the train we want. Dagwood said east, that should get us to Chicago.”“Did he say how many days it would take?”“No.”“Are you sure this is a good idea? Why can’t we convince Grandpa to drive us?”I knelt down and continued to watch. “I don’t think he’s heartbroken that Suz is gone. And he can’t be caught with Dad, they’d throw him in jail.”“We could hide Dad in the back of the truck.”“Too risky. This is up to us.”We watched until the train began its meanderings down the long iron path toward the west. I returned to my bike and climbed on. “Let’s go home.”“Shouldn’t we wait and see if there’s another train?”“With that one on the tracks, I doubt there’ll be one going eastbound any time soon.”“Mmm, true.”The rest of the ride home we didn’t say much. Arriving at the house, we parked our bikes next to the porch and went inside. I could hear Grandma in the kitchen, but had no clue where Grandpa or Dad happened to be. As I put one foot on the stairs, I heard tinny laughter coming from down the long hall to the back—the library.I changed directions, Rory following me. We crept along, our tennis shoes gliding silently across the old wood floor. Silently, that was, until we reached the last few feet before the door. I placed my left foot down and the old board creaked so loudly I thought the whole house could hear. We froze. The door opened and Dad stood peering at us. “Hello, boys. Back from town?”We nodded enthusiastically.“And did you have luck?”Again we nodded.“Good. Abe and I were just talking about the good ol’ days. How about you go out and play? I’ll come join you in a little bit.”“Right,” I said, understanding it to be our cue to get lost. That night, I was sure he’d join us in my room where we’d show him what we bought. I hoped he’d be happy with the selection. Clothing a robot was not something I ever expected to do. Dad closed the door and Rory turned to me. “Go out and play?” he whispered.“Why not? It’s a nice day. Let’s dump the backpacks and get the football.”We went upstairs, putting the packs on my bed. I reached in my pocket and pulled out a handful of dollars and change, placing it on the nightstand. Having physical money in my hands felt very odd. The Inner States deemed paper and coin money too unsanitary so everything was paid for via electronic transfer. In a way, it was handy—unless you forgot your tablet or phone!Digging the football out of my wardrobe, we tromped down and outside. The weather couldn’t have been nicer. Rory and I spread out, keeping ourselves between the house and barn. I threw the ball with all my might, noticing that it went farther than it ever had. Rory had to back up a few steps in order to catch it. “Good throw, Jonah!” He moved closer and chucked it back to me. His throw was far short and I had to run and dive to snag the ball before it hit the ground. Crashing to the dirt, I stirred up a cloud of dust. A few minutes later, Dad came out. He walked a distance from Rory and held up his hands, wanting the ball. I was curious about his ability to throw, that model of bot wasn’t built with sports in mind. When Dad was alive, he could send a ball seemingly into space. Rory and I would be running for our lives in order to catch it. Were those days back? I threw the ball to him. Dad did his best to catch it, but the stiff leather ball bounced out of his hands. “Oh, that’s going to take some getting used to. I can barely feel it.” He bent over and picked up the ball, studying it. “When we build me a better body, I definitely need some sort of tactile sensory receptors.” “You know how to do that?” I asked.“Sure.” He bent his arm back and threw the ball. It was a pathetic attempt. The ball didn’t even make it halfway to me. Dad went over, snatched the ball, and tried again with the same result. “Okay, maybe I’m not cut out for this right now.”“Jonah!” Rory called, pointing frantically down the driveway. “Mailman!”I spun around to see the small blue pickup truck with flashing light on top approaching. Our mailman, Mr. Sodley, was anything but pleasant. He was old, grouchy, and had been delivering mail in every manner of weather for forty years. I knew he hated this driveway, and the only reason he’d be on it was to deliver a package.“Dad, hide!” I yelled, waving for him to get behind the house. Mr. Sodley wasn’t one of those people I wanted to know about Dad. All it would take was talking to the wrong person and Grandma and Grandpa would be in big trouble.The truck approached. I kept my eye on it, hoping Dad had found a hiding spot. Rory trotted up and joined me. “I hope the mailman didn’t see him,” he said, standing closer to me.“Me too.”The truck pulled up and the cantankerous postal worker stuck his head out the window. “Package for Abe,” he said, shoving a box at me.“Um, thank you.” I noticed him looking past me. Did he see Dad? Before I could say or do anything, he jammed the truck into gear and sped off down the drive, leaving a trail of dust. We turned and saw Dad peeing around the corner. “Do you think he saw you?” I said, heading to the porch.He came out. “I don’t know, I tried to hurry, but these old models aren’t built for speed.”“Let’s hope he didn’t.” After that, we decided to end our game of catch. Dad was in no condition to play with us like he used to. I hoped in time I could remedy that.
We pedaled home from town, our backpacks laden with clothes and other “necessities” that we’d need on our journey. As we neared the train tracks, I listened. Did I hear a train? I stopped the bike and pivoted my head around trying to find the source of the noise.“What are you doing?” Rory asked.“Listening for a train.”I saw him cocking his head oddly about. “I think I hear one!”Checking my watch, I saw it was close to two in the afternoon. “Let’s ride over to the switching yard and see.”It took only a few minutes and we’d arrived at outskirts of the yard. Freight cars were lined up on one track, apparently waiting for a train to get them. We hid behind the corner of a building and watched. In the distance, coming from the east, a train approached. As it neared a road crossing, it blared the horn, causing me to jump. Rory laughed.“Not funny!” I grumbled.“Yes it is.”The train slowed to a crawl and entered the yard. Its rumbling diesel engine caused my insides to vibrate—what an odd feeling. We observed the lengthy train rattle along until the last car was nearly out of sight. Then we heard the screech of brakes. Two men scurried around, throwing heavy switches. A few more minutes passed and the train began to back up. The last few cars changed direction, going onto the new set of tracks. And then a loud crash as the couplings connected. “Looks like it’s going west,” Rory said above the noise.“Not the train we want. Dagwood said east, that should get us to Chicago.”“Did he say how many days it would take?”“No.”“Are you sure this is a good idea? Why can’t we convince Grandpa to drive us?”I knelt down and continued to watch. “I don’t think he’s heartbroken that Suz is gone. And he can’t be caught with Dad, they’d throw him in jail.”“We could hide Dad in the back of the truck.”“Too risky. This is up to us.”We watched until the train began its meanderings down the long iron path toward the west. I returned to my bike and climbed on. “Let’s go home.”“Shouldn’t we wait and see if there’s another train?”“With that one on the tracks, I doubt there’ll be one going eastbound any time soon.”“Mmm, true.”The rest of the ride home we didn’t say much. Arriving at the house, we parked our bikes next to the porch and went inside. I could hear Grandma in the kitchen, but had no clue where Grandpa or Dad happened to be. As I put one foot on the stairs, I heard tinny laughter coming from down the long hall to the back—the library.I changed directions, Rory following me. We crept along, our tennis shoes gliding silently across the old wood floor. Silently, that was, until we reached the last few feet before the door. I placed my left foot down and the old board creaked so loudly I thought the whole house could hear. We froze. The door opened and Dad stood peering at us. “Hello, boys. Back from town?”We nodded enthusiastically.“And did you have luck?”Again we nodded.“Good. Abe and I were just talking about the good ol’ days. How about you go out and play? I’ll come join you in a little bit.”“Right,” I said, understanding it to be our cue to get lost. That night, I was sure he’d join us in my room where we’d show him what we bought. I hoped he’d be happy with the selection. Clothing a robot was not something I ever expected to do. Dad closed the door and Rory turned to me. “Go out and play?” he whispered.“Why not? It’s a nice day. Let’s dump the backpacks and get the football.”We went upstairs, putting the packs on my bed. I reached in my pocket and pulled out a handful of dollars and change, placing it on the nightstand. Having physical money in my hands felt very odd. The Inner States deemed paper and coin money too unsanitary so everything was paid for via electronic transfer. In a way, it was handy—unless you forgot your tablet or phone!Digging the football out of my wardrobe, we tromped down and outside. The weather couldn’t have been nicer. Rory and I spread out, keeping ourselves between the house and barn. I threw the ball with all my might, noticing that it went farther than it ever had. Rory had to back up a few steps in order to catch it. “Good throw, Jonah!” He moved closer and chucked it back to me. His throw was far short and I had to run and dive to snag the ball before it hit the ground. Crashing to the dirt, I stirred up a cloud of dust. A few minutes later, Dad came out. He walked a distance from Rory and held up his hands, wanting the ball. I was curious about his ability to throw, that model of bot wasn’t built with sports in mind. When Dad was alive, he could send a ball seemingly into space. Rory and I would be running for our lives in order to catch it. Were those days back? I threw the ball to him. Dad did his best to catch it, but the stiff leather ball bounced out of his hands. “Oh, that’s going to take some getting used to. I can barely feel it.” He bent over and picked up the ball, studying it. “When we build me a better body, I definitely need some sort of tactile sensory receptors.” “You know how to do that?” I asked.“Sure.” He bent his arm back and threw the ball. It was a pathetic attempt. The ball didn’t even make it halfway to me. Dad went over, snatched the ball, and tried again with the same result. “Okay, maybe I’m not cut out for this right now.”“Jonah!” Rory called, pointing frantically down the driveway. “Mailman!”I spun around to see the small blue pickup truck with flashing light on top approaching. Our mailman, Mr. Sodley, was anything but pleasant. He was old, grouchy, and had been delivering mail in every manner of weather for forty years. I knew he hated this driveway, and the only reason he’d be on it was to deliver a package.“Dad, hide!” I yelled, waving for him to get behind the house. Mr. Sodley wasn’t one of those people I wanted to know about Dad. All it would take was talking to the wrong person and Grandma and Grandpa would be in big trouble.The truck approached. I kept my eye on it, hoping Dad had found a hiding spot. Rory trotted up and joined me. “I hope the mailman didn’t see him,” he said, standing closer to me.“Me too.”The truck pulled up and the cantankerous postal worker stuck his head out the window. “Package for Abe,” he said, shoving a box at me.“Um, thank you.” I noticed him looking past me. Did he see Dad? Before I could say or do anything, he jammed the truck into gear and sped off down the drive, leaving a trail of dust. We turned and saw Dad peeing around the corner. “Do you think he saw you?” I said, heading to the porch.He came out. “I don’t know, I tried to hurry, but these old models aren’t built for speed.”“Let’s hope he didn’t.” After that, we decided to end our game of catch. Dad was in no condition to play with us like he used to. I hoped in time I could remedy that.
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