A Boy and His Bot Page 3

  Then a ribbon of shimmering color burst from the Celestial City and projected a large square onto the sky. It was like a movie—big enough for all of Mekhos to see. Numbers appeared, counting down: five, four, three, two, one …

  The hologram of a giant face appeared: an old man, kindly and round.

  “It’s my grandpa,” whispered Code, elated.

  But Code’s happiness quickly turned to horror as the man’s mouth twisted into a fierce snarl. Black cords wrapped and coiled themselves around the man’s neck and head. The coils of wire moved constantly, like snakes. In a voice that was not his grandfather’s, the old man croaked: “My good robots, I am John Lightfall, King of the Greater Mekhos Co-Prosperity Sphere and Liege Lord of all its Mechanical Peoples. To the fair bots of Mekhos, I come bearing vile tidings. After a thorough and careful review of the Robonomicon, I have determined that the vast majority of your current programs are outdated, incompatible, and—most of all—dangerous. My faithful personal adviser, Immortalis, has instructed me that, in order to fulfill the wishes of the ancient builders, all the robots of Mekhos must disassemble.”

  The view widened, revealing more of the king’s body. Code gaped at the grotesque image projected onto the sky like a movie.

  The machine called Immortalis looked like a giant black squid. It supported the king’s body with thousands of black cords attached to a black oval frame. The tentacles stretched from the machine and wrapped around his body—his arms, legs, torso, and even his head and face. Tiny cords wrapped around his fingers and a large solid one encircled his chest. Hundreds more hung limply, swaying in the air. Some cords had cruel-looking suckers and others carried obscure tools. And directly above John Lightfall’s head, a milky blue porthole was embedded into the frame of the powerful machine. It looked like a single, unblinking sapphire eye.

  The eye of Immortalis blazed as the king continued to croak: “And so it has been decreed. The great experiment is over. In five days, Mekhos will be returned to its original state. And once you robots are disassembled, the old rifts to the human world will be reopened!”

  The king gestured violently at the Beamstalk.

  “All robots, automatons, and mechanicals are hereby ordered to progress to the heart of Mekhos. To where light meets darkness. To the root of the Beamstalk and the foot of the Celestial City. Make haste! Fly, crawl, or run! By any means necessary—get yourselves to Disassembly Point!”

  As Code watched, the swarm of robotic insects began to stir, climbing nearby trees and stretching their wings. One by one, the horde lifted off and began buzzing eastward—toward the Beamstalk. The haze of insects engulfed the treetops and then continued on, away from the amber sunset.

  Then a blazing ray of white light shot from Code’s shirt pocket and slashed upward through the sky. Nearly blinded, Code scrambled to grab a branch. For a split second, the beam pierced the golden sky, flashing and pulsing in a complex pattern. It disappeared before Code could see it clearly. Peep glowed hot against Code’s chest.

  “Peep?” Code asked. “What did you do?”

  In the sky, the wasted form of King John Lightfall began to look around. He whispered a single, barely recognizable word: “Code?” Somehow, Peep had alerted the king that he was in Mekhos.

  “Grandpa,” whispered Code. For an instant, he could see the kindness return to the eyes of his grandfather. This was the man Code remembered. The quiet man who had led him on long rambling walks through damp woods.

  Then the cruel snarl returned to the old man’s face. He roared in anger: “A human?! What is a filthy human doing in Mekhos?”

  Frightened, Code scrambled down the tree as the voice of the king boomed through the air like distant thunder. His grandfather had seemed intent on destroying every robot in the world. And yet, for one second, Code had seen the kind face that he remembered from before.

  It must have something to do with that machine, thought Code. My grandfather would never act that way. But that black tentacled creature … Maybe it’s forcing him to say those terrible things. Either way, my real grandfather is here, Code realized. And I’ve got to find him.

  “What have you gotten us into?” Code whispered to his shirt pocket as he made his way farther down the towering tree.

  A sleepy, happy chirp came from Peep. Code’s pocket glowed a dull gold and vibrated with a contented hum. The exhausted little bot seemed to have fallen asleep and begun to snore. It was a comforting sound. My only friend is the size of a hummingbird, thought Code. And it seemed as though she had been just as happy as Code to see John Lightfall.

  Finally, Code hopped from a low branch onto solid ground. He patted his pocket and gazed up at the twinkling dot of light that was the Celestial City. His grandfather was alive and maybe in trouble. The Beamstalk was very far away, and this place was unpredictable and frightening. But Code could feel a soothing purr from his shirt pocket. Peep was unafraid. And if such a little creature could be so dedicated and fearless, Code knew that he could, too.

  4

  Crystalline Castle

  The Great Disassembly:

  T–Minus Five Days

  As the sun began to set, Code and Peep traveled along a wide path of beaten-down grass. She made a pretty handy flashlight, but Code had grown tired and sleepy by the time they rounded a corner to see a ruined castle perched on a gentle hillside. The castle was huge and magnificent and built out of cloudy white blocks of transparent crystal. The walls were overgrown by steel-cable vines, and boulder-sized chunks had crumbled down the hill and rolled away. The doors and windows appeared to be three times as big as usual. That’s curious, thought Code.

  Code ran his fingers over the cool, rough walls of the courtyard. The woods behind him were dark and cold, and the glowing crystalline castle flickered from within, warm and inviting.

  Code promised himself he would set out for the Beamstalk the very next morning, but first he had to find a safe place to sleep for the night. He crept up the path to the castle door, hopping lightly from one massive paving stone to the next. The front door was made of four tree trunks lashed crudely together with thick steel bands. A weathered old robot head protruded from the door, a radar antenna rotating on its head and a large ring clenched in its jaws. Standing on his tippy toes, Code reached up and tried to pull the knocker. It was too heavy to move. So with one shoulder, he shoved against the door with all his might. With a slow squeal, the oversized door opened a crack.

  “Hello?” called Code.

  No response.

  “Peep?” peeped Peep.

  Just an echo.

  With a final fearful gaze into the dusky courtyard and the shadowy forest beyond, Code slinked through the crack of the door and into the castle.

  What he saw inside made him gape in wonder. Everything was giant-sized: a pair of mechanical boots lay near the door, as high as Code’s chest; a coat the size of a ship’s sail hung on a hook; and a lacy purple umbrella covered in solar panels rested in a barrel-sized pot. Code pinched his nose. The smell wafting out of the enormous black boots was unfathomably stinky, like bad fish and kerosene.

  The cavernous room was empty and silent—nobody home.

  Code wandered through the entryway and down a hallway until he came to a kitchen, where a bathtub-sized pot of stew was simmering. He dipped a finger into the stew—still warm. As the castle seemed abandoned, Code thought nobody would mind if he just took a little bit. He cupped his palms together and slurped it up. It was like drinking a bucketful of water filled with copper pennies, but it filled his belly. Code smacked his lips and sighed happily. But when he tried to eat a green wafer covered with shiny dots, he nearly chipped a tooth.

  Feeling groggy after his feast, Code trudged back to the entryway, climbed the billowing coat, and lowered himself into an immense pocket. Inside, he curled up and rested his head on a giant-sized chunk of pocket lint. He smiled, seeing Peep similarly curled up inside his own, much smaller pocket. Safely cocooned, Code fell fast asleep.r />
  The next morning, a tremendous shriek echoed through the castle.

  Code’s stomach lurched as he was swung violently through the air. Through the fabric of the pocket, he could see morning light filtering through the cloudy walls of the castle.

  Someone or something had come home and put on the coat that Code was in.

  “Brutus!” shouted a feminine voice. “Something has been eating our circuit board stew!”

  A deep voice responded: “It’s a filthy mechano-rat, Darla. You can bet your backup circuits! My osmotic sensors are never wrong!”

  Peep peeked out of Code’s pocket and buzzed at him in fright.

  “I know, I know,” whispered Code.

  Likewise, Code peeked his own head out. He was in the pocket of a giant robot coat, the owner of which was clanking down a dim hallway in a cloud of wet steam and a racket of pistons.

  “I’ll find that rat wherever it hides,” muttered the huge robot. This must be the one the other robot called Brutus, thought Code. He certainly sounds like a brute.

  Code swayed in the air as the monster toddled forward on two primary legs, with several smaller ones hanging awry and occasionally pushing off walls or helping to catch the giant’s balance at the last minute. In addition to the coat, the great shabby creature was clothed in a wild confusion of faded robes, capes, and frilly smocks. As it moved, it swiveled its small, metal-sheathed head back and forth. Code could feel the throbbing heat from its internal furnace and his ears rang from the awful scraping of its clawed feet against the floor, but there was no opportunity to jump out of the pocket.

  “Is the mechano-rat in … here?” inquired Brutus, throwing open a massive door. It looked to be some kind of game room. The robot checked each pocket of the billiards table. A rack of telescoping pool sticks bounced up and down nervously, but nothing else moved. Then Brutus checked behind the heat-seeking darts and the soot-covered dartboard. Nothing. Finally, Brutus slammed the door shut and stalked away down the hall.

  “What about in … here?!”

  Brutus yanked open a door to the dining room. He searched behind a pair of chattering, self-shaking salt and pepper shakers. He shooed the four-legged dinner table out of the room and it galloped away with its motors grinding, followed by the chairs. But he found nothing hiding underneath. He tore the metal shutters off the reinforced china cabinet and looked behind the square-, cube-, and hypercube-shaped dishes. Again, nothing. Brutus growled in frustration and stomped off toward the next room.

  “Maybe Ratty is in … here?” Brutus leaped into the kitchen and plunged his long, many-jointed arm into the pot of stew.

  “Stop that, you dim bulb!” said the robot with the female-sounding voice. She wore a dress the size of a circus tent and carried a large, splintery broom.

  Brutus’s small eye visor blinked angrily. “Darla, I am trying to catch a fierce mechano-rat. Lower your volume!”

  While the giants argued, Code seized his chance. He carefully climbed out of the pocket, hung over the side, and dropped to the floor. Luckily, the giants were so focused on arguing with each other they didn’t notice the human boy at their feet. He prayed that the monsters wouldn’t catch and eat him, and that no swinging legs would smear him into a boy-colored paste.

  “You couldn’t catch a cold— Wait.” Darla sniffed loudly. “Brutus, I smell carbon dioxide.”

  “Carbon dioxide? What could be breathing oxygen?”

  “Only one creature breathes oxygen …,” murmured Darla.

  “King Lightfall told us to be on the lookout for …,” said Brutus.

  Together, both of the gigantic, savage robots bellowed in pure terror.

  “Hoo-mans!”

  “How horrid!”

  “Their blood is full of oxygen.”

  “It’s a poison!”

  “And a narcotic.”

  “Not to mention illegal.”

  Code crept past the giants’ primary, secondary, and tertiary legs and hid behind a stack of firewood. In a panic, Brutus and Darla shuffled past Code’s hiding spot and out of the kitchen. As they lumbered by him, the heat from their engines grew to a furnace blast and the noise of the giant robots’ pistons reached an earsplitting roar. Brutus followed Darla out the door, trailing a stale-smelling cape made of glinting silver scales. The cape rattled along the floor, dragged up against the wall, and finally disappeared around the corner.

  At last, Peep climbed out of Code’s shirt pocket. Very, very quietly, the trembling robot made a relieved peep!

  The sound echoed through the crystalline castle.

  “What what what?” shouted Darla, from the next room.

  “Who who who?” shouted Brutus.

  “Why why why?” muttered Code.

  In an earthquake of movement and a tornado of sound, the two giants stampeded back into the kitchen and, heads swiveling, spotted Code.

  “It’s … it’s … really a hoo-man,” shouted Brutus, apoplectic with the horror of his discovery. “Call the king, Darla.”

  Darla threw one pincered hand over her garishly painted face shield and collapsed in a dead faint, smashing into the nearest wall. Spectacular sconces and moth-eaten portraits of long-rusted robot ancestors collapsed in an avalanche of bad taste. When the rumbling aftershocks had died down, Brutus leaned in to inspect the boy.

  Code smiled nervously into Brutus’s blazing red eye slit. “Sorry I ate your stew.”

  Brutus leaped up and covered his mouth grill with a grease-stained handkerchief. “The hoo-man is made of organic matter. How disgusting!”

  Having recovered, Darla weakly handed Brutus a broom. “Make it hold still! I’ll catch it in a basket!”

  “You don’t have to do that. I’ll just go,” offered Code reasonably.

  “There’s no time, Darla. We’ll have to squish it with the broom!” roared Brutus, raising the broom high.

  “Excuse me?” asked Code.

  “Oh, it’s squeaking at us! Smash it quickly! I don’t want to look!” mewled Darla.

  The broom wavered dangerously back and forth, ready to crush Code at any second.

  Code knew that he had to do something immediately or he was a goner. As the broom started to fall, Code racked his brain for something, anything. Suddenly, it came to him.

  He threw his arms over his head and twisted his hands into claws.

  “Rawr!” yelled Code, unconvincingly, he thought.

  But the giants froze in place, terrified.

  “I am a hoo-man! Rawr! And I will … hurt you with my mighty hoo-man fists!”

  Peep hopped onto Code’s shoulder and flared her tiny wings. She flashed an angry red as Code stomped toward the giants, waving his arms as though having a fit.

  The huge broom dropped to the floor, forgotten. The giants each took a step back, gaping at each other.

  “And … and I’ve got people rabies!” shouted Code, slobbering and sputtering and frothing furiously at the mouth.

  Darla fled immediately. As Brutus turned to watch her go, Code made a dash for freedom. He scampered down the hallway, through the first door he found, and found himself in a vast, cold ballroom. He leaped over gouges and scars left on the floor by the brutal footsteps of generations of dancing robot giants. Finally, Code spotted a crack in the far wall, made a dash, and squeezed through it.

  This time he was in a room filled with giant-sized books. And on the far wall, beyond an expanse of plush, knee-high carpeting, Code saw a small wooden door. It was human-sized and painted black. To each side of it, a statue of a fierce robot giant stood guard. The surface of the door was intricately carved with an assortment of melting gargoyle-like faces. Some of the creatures seemed to be smiling with laughter, but others were screaming in terror. The whole creepy carving felt as if it were moving just a bit too slowly to see.

  Code shuddered. This foreboding door was his only hope.

  “What do you suppose the statues are guarding?” Code asked Peep. She just made a small, curious chir
p.

  All around him, the crystalline castle echoed with the shouts and stomps of rapidly advancing robo-giants as they searched for one very small human being. There was no other choice. Code waded through the carpeting, pushed the ominous, coal black door open, and stepped across the threshold.

  5

  Fabrication Tank

  The Great Disassembly:

  T–Minus Four Days

  Code found himself in a huge cylindrical room. Shafts of sunlight cascaded through a glass dome three stories overhead. Swirling dust motes danced in the empty air. Bookshelves, stocked with thousands of crumbling tomes, stretched upward, crisscrossed by spindly ladders. A rickety old machine dominated the middle of the room. It looked like a gargantuan microscope aimed at a thick slab of metal resting solidly on the ground.

  Peep scurried out of Code’s shirt pocket and leaped into the air. She darted from place to place, examining everything with green beams of light. Safe for the moment, Code shoved his hands into his pockets, leaned against the door, and exhaled deeply.

  Just then a wobbly, wheeled robot creaked out from behind a pile of musty books. Startled, Code yanked his hands out of his pockets, dropping a piece of paper. It was the drawing of the atomic slaughterbot he had made in school. Before he could pick it up, the curmudgeonly robot snatched it away.

  In a slow, windy voice it said, “Hmm … what have we here? The fabrication tank was last activated four hundred and ninety-two years ago. Haven’t seen a human in quite some time. But we’d be happy to make this for you, sir.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Hold,” said the robot curtly. It adjusted a pair of cracked spectacles on its face and scowled down at the page.

  “Can I have that back, please?” asked Code, reaching for the paper.