Saturday morning.
Andy woke up with a big stretch. He felt unusually happy. Some birds played serenades that tickled his ears from his half-opened window. The sky was white and free from any flapping bird; winter had its way of doing that. The wind howled like a wolf under the full moon. That the chimney was on, Andy could tell due to the warmness that engulfed him. He quickly reached for his pair of binoculars, threw himself off the bed, slipped on his anticipating pair of slippers and scurried off to the bathroom where he washed his face thoroughly, brushed his mouth, then finally went for a bath. He laid inside the bathtub, completely caressed by the warm, soapy water in it. It was amazing to finally be visiting Portsmouth, and Andy knew it. He could see himself walking down its ancient streets with cathedrals and Queen Elizabeth's naval Hospitals. He could smell the nostril-soothing breeze, and the mouth-watering fruits in the market. He could touch the winter-ridden fig trees, and many a gentleman in their finely-woven, knee-length coats and archaic mannerisms of speaking. He could hear their cackling laughters as they strike drinks against drinks in a toast, in the local pub. He smiled, telling himself that nothing could ever go wrong. After having his bath, he walked to his cabinet, pulled the doors apart, and stared at the clothes he'd be wearing. He'd ironed and hung them, the previous night. It was a long-sleeved shirt, a pair of pants, and a black-coloured, knee-length garment Connor had given him the previous year. This day seemed to be just the best time to disvirgin it, he thought — his hands spread under his chin. Perfect!HARRY woke up by falling off the bed in sleep. He almost broke an ankle and elbow to it. He gave a loud groan, then pulled himself up, applying a pain relief ointment.
As if that was not enough, when he got into the bathroom — barefooted — he'd slipped and had almost slammed his head against the tiled floor, had not his head been shaded by an arm. "How else could misery be defined?" Harry asked himself. Since it was already after seven in the morning, he felt it was unnecessary to go back in bed. The day had had on Harry enough jinx, and it worried him. Something told him to hurry to his friend's home. He feared that the teenagers could hurt Andy to get what they needed, since they couldn't find it themselves. Just on remembering the teenagers, his heart skipped a beat as he remembered that they were cyborgs. Harry dropped in an armchair and began to analyse the information he'd received the previous night. If he was going to meet Anderson, then he'd want his points to be reasonable, worth the stress, and appreciated. "One; they're cyborgs," he said to himself. "Two; the boy in the group spoke about upgrading them for a contest — God knows what that means. "Three; what the heck is a QED?" Harry remembered the work of a dictionary, and reached for it on the fridge where he'd dropped it two days ago. "Q-E-D. Yes, found it!" he exclaimed, punching a fist to the air like he'd won a medal. His expression changed when he read the meaning: "Initialism of quantum electrodynamics." He groaned out, "What's this thing about dictionaries, anyway?! You search for one word and they give you two to search for. Why not just define everything at once?!" He was fortunate to find the noun, "Quantum Electrodynamics", on the previous page. He read it out confidently. "The study of the interaction of electromagnetic radiation with electrically charged matter within the frame work of relativity and quantum mechanics." He relaxed back to digest in what he'd just read. He outlined the keywords: electromagnetic radiation, electrically charged matter, relativity, and quantum mechanics. This time it made sense. "So the cyborgs probably needed all these features to get themselves a super upgrade. For what exactly?" He walked briskly to his laptop computer — a towel strapped around his waist — and sat down to the booting screen. Done. He typed on Google: Competitions for cyborgs. All he saw were written-fantasies. He paused a little, then rephrased: A competition that gives prizes for automaton makers. There were so many that popped up, but the first one on the list captured Harry's attention. The Greatest Scientist of the Age, Portsmouth. "It all makes sense now," said he. So that was what all those talk were about. And could it be that it was the main reason Andy worked hours on his stolen robot? He, probably, wanted to participate as well. And where on Earth did Mr. Hans find a QED to sell to Andy? How did Andy even purchase it in first place? He closed the computer and hurried to change. His parted cabinet doors revealed so many junky clothes. He looked out the window — the weather was not friendly. He turned his attention back to his cabinet, and a cocky smile raised his cheeks. "Hmm. . .say I looked a little 'gentlemanlike', ehn? That would leave Andy amazed. I shall speak in the most formal mannerism of my native—" he reached for a formal wear with a black tie to match. Then he coated himself in a dark-blue jacket. Before the mirror, he smiled in a way that only his upper set of teeth could be seen, "— and then he'll be left with no choice, but to welcome me in as custom requires of an English gentleman." Just then, his stomach groaned, and he hurried to grab himself a breakfast. Aweful!HANSON woke up to the sense-organ-disparpling aroma of Lizzy's cottage pie. It embraced him with tender affection, such that made him to cuddle himself like a foetus. His mouth began to water as he saw himself placing the pie in his mouth and his teeth jamming against it, letting a burst of the nursh fall on his tongue and sending his brain a massive spin. His stomach knotted, and he tried propelling himself to his feet by doing a trick he'd learnt as a youth; it was futile. And so he had to roll to an edge of the bed where he threw one leg down, before another. He was an old crock, and he knew it — though many at times he'd told himself otherwise, especially when one had a wife like Lizzy who repeated how fit he was everyday of his life since their wedding day. He smiled as he sat on the bed, said a little prayer for his wife, then inserted his feet into his cover slipper.
"Music," he called clapping. "Music mode activated," cried the robot from below. Next thing, the whole house was booming with the "Celebration" song. Hanson danced down the the staircase singing along, "Ceeeee-leeee-brate gooood times, come on!" He twisted and twirled, heading for the kitchen where he ran his hand around his wife's waist. "Good morning, dear. You seem happy this morning—" "That's the thing, my dear, you're my source of happiness." She hid a smile, and asked, "And how is that, Professor Hanson?" "Everyday of my life, I keep waking up realising I actually married you. It's just like fairytale! I'm in love with everything about you, Miss Elizabeth—" This time she couldn't suppress a grin, and he saw she was blushing a little pink. "I love you, Hanny—" "And I love you more, Lizzy—" "Can we continue with the business of cooking?" came Lucy's indifferent, mechanical voice. "Get the f**k off!" screamed Lizzy. "No, no — Lucy is right, and I've got to start preparing for Pompey, remember?" She gave a heart-wrenching groan, muttered curses under her breath, then nodded hesitantly, shooting a sinister glance at the unbothered robot; one that could kill any human in Lucy's shoes. They exchanged kisses — Hanson and Lizzy — before the former ran upstairs for a quick bath. Wonderful!* * *
Jake paced about in his room, his hands locked behind him. He was wearing on a brown-collared sweatshirt over a pair of ash-coloured joggers. The windows were shut close, because of the weather. Karen and Kaycie sat on the soft mat beside his master bed. They were seated Indian style with their eyes closed; they were inactive at the moment. Jake was working new programming updates on them. The cyborgs were wirelessly connected to a big white contraption. "Sentics completed!" announced the contraption. "Yes," Jake said to himself. "B2Q, let's test them." "Rebooting the cyborgs!" came it reply. Jake walked up to them and unbuttoned their shirts to observe the blinking lights on their necks. It was green. He smiled, nodding. "Perfect." "In three, two—" Jake moved back a little, "—one. Power on." Karen and Kaycie's eyes opened, simultaneously, to meet Jake's wide smile, and cocky eyes. "
Saturday morning, that same day.JOCELYN spread her hands, sideways, before the moving waves of the beach. She needed to refresh her mind a little, and this was her best option. She'd come all by herself; her parents knew her well enough to understand she preferred being alone when she had emotional problems than to speak with someone about it.The wind embraced her, causing her blonde hair to fly over her shoulders away from her back. Her silk gown ran hither in the wind. The waves of the sea swooped down and chilled her tender feet. Her eyes were tightly shut, she wanted to feel every sensation of the wind. She wanted to listen only to the song it sang in her ears, she needed the cold to make her pull away from the heat she felt underneath her skin. She let her tears flow gently down her eyes, rolling down her cheeks.She had her own problems, and was happy the wind understood her, it sang songs about a pretty damsel who seemed to have everything but had n
"Bruvvers, come this way," said Nelson, rising from a sofa, after Hanson had asked to see the Time Machine. They trailed behind his white, unblemished coat, with the other robots positioned protectively. As Harry walked silently alongside the others, he marvelled at Hanson and Nelson's conversation. How such people even existed was a wonder. They passed door after door without even having to move a muscle for security check; it opened automatically. They turned into a certain passage wherefore the robots became inactive, immediately after stepping in. It was a great wonder, but none could ask why, and how such and such happened. The passage had just one room opposite them at the far end. Andy was curious as well; he really wanted to know why the robots became inactive in the passage. He raised his eyes to observe the roof over their head, but could not identify any "deactivative machine". He noticed that aside the
Thomas was seated on the waist-length balcony, refreshed by the cold wind. He stared at the clear sky trying to place a colour to it, but gave up trying, watching for birds. He was only fortunate to see one flying at the far north, few metres over a certain tree. Staring at the beautiful, uniformed houses made him sigh. As much as he told himself that he didn't miss his parents, his inner self struggled with the notion. He still felt a measure of pity for his parents' death, but then. . .he remembered Donald. The name itself gave a stab in his chest. He swung a fist against the wall where he rested his back, just adjacent to his buttocks. His head began to burn, and he struggled not to allow images of that day flow back to his head. That day when Donald stood for him. Donald was someone who aspired for big things at just that junior highschool age. As children from Oxford, they'd always dreamed of schooling in the great universi
Little Timmy cycled down the hood to the place they called their hideout, which was literally Bob's backyard. He looked both ways, then pushed his bicycle into a nearby bush after gripping hard on the break and making a quick C curve to stop. He pulled himself over the backyard's fence then landed across like Spiderman.Three boys were already there, other than Bob: Mike, Rodge and Duke. They were all seated on the grass.Bob was getting his trainers pair knotted, Mike and Rodge were playing an arm-wrestle game, while Duke appeared to be the careful spectator, though more a referee.At the moment, Rodge's arm was bending to the pressure from Mike's."Get that arm back up, Rodge, you've got this!" called Duke with a serious face.Timmy watched as perspiration formed on Rodge's forehead. His eyes watched closely as sweat lined on the folds of the forehead, then slipping down his sideburns, making its way into his singlet, and finally down the hidden parts of h
Einstein adjusted his black necktie for the third time after knotting it over and over to no avail. He cursed the stars for his folly of loosing the knot in its first place. Frustratedly, he pulled it off his neck and threw it away from him. He rolled his eyes over the hundreds of clothes in his large, German cabinet. His eyes were particular fixed on the hangers. It moved slowly, over the neatly hung clothes, till his eyes stopped on an hanger with lots of neckties. Stretching forward, he ran his hand, a little, over the ties, then reached for the hook of the hanger, pulling it out to properly observe what was hung. "I knew I should have listened to my butler about the pick of more black neckties to mixed coloured." His eyes stopped to a bow tie of just the colour he needed for the outfit. "Ah, and I thought I could avoid you for long." He raised the flap of his shirt collar up, placed the bold tie around his neck, hesitan
"I want to get something straight, you're from the future?" asked Einstein in the most comic face ever. His voice was rising, despite how he was trying to lower it. "Yes, you've got to believe me—" "And then what? Is this some kind of a joke 'cause I have something very important for my wife today, I wouldn't want to miss that. You can see she's waiting. . .you might just want to wait till we're back. Go back home—" "Please, Professor," pleaded Anderson, "there is no home. Please, believe me. I'm serious when I said I landed with the aid of a time machine. . . although not on my feet—" "Nonsense! I shan't speak with you any further. And if you press on this, I'll have to call the police on you—" "But—" "Save it," he interjected, turning against him to the taxi. "Honey, anything the matter?" asked Marić, concerned. "Nothing too serious, the child's nut!" He sl
"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" came a sleep-disruptive cry over Andy's head which got him startled. Brushing his eyes, he retorted, "Dad, what was that for?!" "I'm not your father, lad, it's me — Albert Einstein the great," came the reply, with a slight chuckle. "Albert what?!" Andy threw his hand under the pillow over his head and fished out his glass case. He placed his spectacle on his nose, sluggishly. "Oh, the Time Machine—" he muttered to himself. "Get your bath, immediately, we've work to do today. I got you some clothes that could take you for a couple of days," said Einstein, pointing to a waist-length drawer. He added, "When you're done, grab a quick meal from the kitchen, Marić's in the dining. I'll be at the laboratory, just so you don't get mixed up with the apartments in this house, ask my wife to show it to you." Anderson's head was processing his words, quickly.