vignette

Wims had been tracking the Duster for days, and was finally closing in. “Just try to get out of this one, fuzz-face. You’re dead meat.” Wims talked to himself a lot, especially since he worked alone. Well, alone in that there were no other humans in his group, but he did have a partner ... a fully-functional, standard-size, bi-pedal, A.I. bot who called himself Sir Tan -- a bit of whimsy programmed by his grandfather who’d procured the bot for Wims.

“Excuse me, Sir Wims,” said Sir Tan, “it’s possible you have overlooked one slight detail -- we are closing in on the area known as Gonagin and--”

“What?! That’s impossible! We’re not close enough... Here! Let me see that chart!” Wims grabbed the map from the bot and looked at it intently. “Dammit to hell! If he goes in there, he will be gone again.” Wims muttered to himself for a few minutes, tossing suggestions and scenarios back and forth to himself. Finally, he sighed. “There’s no way out of it. We’ll have to go in after him and just fly through the stuff.”

“B-b-but Sir,” stammered the droid, “that’s pea soup, white effluvium, a coiling miasma, scud, pother, smaze, a dangerous will-o-the-wisp, a mysterious perturbation that has no rules -- we can’t go in there!”

“Tan, my man, have no fear. There’s nothing we can’t do if we put our minds to it. After all, if the Duster can do it, we can do it! Right? Yes! Now go back to your desk and read up on everything you can get your hands on about Gonagin.”

“But sir, the whole place is beginnings and ends, ups and downs, ins and outs -- there’s no way to predict where you’ll end up once you enter and no way to find your way back. It’s a classic quantum conundrum. It’s all in my data banks -- nothing is certain there except all uncertainties.”

“Be that as it may, Tan, we’re going in. Simply consider this an adventure. It’s just that we don’t know where we’re going, which happens to be a very human experience, Tan, so enjoy yourself. You’re not going to get many chances to be human.”

“Yes, sir,” gulped Tan, “would it be appropriate for me to faint?”

“Good grief,” said Wims distractedly as he studied the chart. “That’s what girls do and I always thought of you as male. Why don’t you belch or something.”

“Belch, sir? Like... like this, sir?” whereupon a huge gastroidal sound emanated from Sir Tan. Seeing the awe on Wims’ stunned face, the robot almost blushed. “I copied it from you, sir, the last time you had pizza and beer. It seemed so satisfying.”

“There you go, Tan. And you’ll never see me faint, so feel free to belch anytime you need to.”

“Yes (belch), sir (belch),” said the bot who promptly began grid-walking and emitting hearty belches every few seconds. “We can (belch) do it (belch). Gonagin doesn’t frighten us (belch)!” whereupon, with stout-hearted masculine vigor, Sir Tan fainted.