Guess who has work that they're supposed to be doing...?

Short Circuits

"Red or white, Holly?"

Artemis coughed. "Er, Father," he said. "Holly can't drink alcohol with humans. Remember?"

"Oh." Artemis Senior smiled jovially and sat back in his seat. "Of course, silly me."

Holly glanced at the ceiling, appearing to feel, for perhaps the thirtieth time that evening, the most awkward she had ever felt in her life. The twenty-year-old beside her took a breath.

"But she is, however, perfectly capable of driving our cars" he said quickly. "I've proposed a trip to the garage tomorrow – thought we might take something for a spin."

Angeline smiled. "That sounds like a lovely idea, dear."

Her son smiled back, thanking her silently. At least Mother had been attempting to make this dinner vaguely bearable.

"You have an interest in cars do you, Holly?" inquired Artemis Senior.

Holly forced down a mouthful of courgette. "Er… I've never driven one before but they look… fun."

"Oh yes, they are. Though I don't suppose you'll have a licence yet. How old did you say you were again, Holly?"

"Eighty three."

"Ah, yes. I remember…"

He brought his wineglass to his lips, looking pointedly at his wife over the rim. Angeline's lips thinned.

"Holly was driving shuttles before any of us were even thought of," commented Artemis, sawing at a parsnip with perhaps more force than was necessary. "I think she will be able to handle the Jaguar, licence or no."

Say something.

Holly swallowed thickly. "Are they your cars, Mr Fowl?" she asked on her first free mouthful.

The elder man tore his gaze away from his wife's. "Most of them. Most of them were passed down to me from my father and my father's father. Classics. You shall have to be careful with them. They're not built like the spaceships you're apparently more used to–"

"I've put you in the Faraday Suite tonight, Holly," interrupted Angeline. "I hope you will find it comfortable."

Holly was forced to smile. "No doubt. Everything in this house is comfortable. I'll have to be careful not to grow too used to it."

Artemis's hand stroked hers under the table, gently persuading her to perhaps become used to it.

"At least you'll find it preferable to the last guestroom you were hosted in," said Artemis Senior, drawing back her attention. "I feel a room is much improved by outside air access and a door with an inside handle."

"Timmy," hissed Angeline. "Ignore him," she said to Holly. "He's always a little flippant after a few glasses."

"Flippant?" laughed Artemis Senior. "Our son is dating a mythological creature."

"We have been over this, Timmy. How can you still insist she is a delusion?"

"I'm not saying she is a delusion, Angeline – he is a clever boy and has obviously found a way to convincingly mimic sentient intelligence."

"She is a guest."

"She is a robot hobgoblin, Angeline, and I will no longer sit here and indulge this lunacy in silence."

Artemis stared at his progenitor. "A robot hobgoblin?"

Holly glanced at the ceiling again.

"A robot–" Artemis was beside himself. "What? What are you talking about?"

"You need help," said Artemis Senior bluntly.

"You think she's a robot?"

"I think she is the direct result of my poor parenting."

"Why would I purchase a robot fairy and bring her to dinner as my date?"

"I don't know, Arty. I've been pondering much the same question since our charming guest arrived at 4pm."

Angeline massaged the skin between her eyes. "My dear, she is eating with us."

"But not drinking!" cried Artemis Senior, as if laying down a trump in cards. "Because she cannot eat with humans, Angeline, remember?"

"Because of her creed not because she might short circuit!"

"Hey!" snapped Holly, holding up her hands. "Guys! Fowls! Mud Men!"

All three humans turned to look at her.

"Look," she said calmly. "This has been a lovely evening and all, but I think I'm going to leave."

"No." Artemis's face fell. "Holly, please–"

"Arty," said Holly sharply. "Your dad thinks I'm made of plastic. I really think that's my cue."

Angeline got to her feet. "Please, Holly, you are our guest. Excuse my husband's rudeness, he forgets himself."

"Yes!" joined Artemis Senior. "Where are my manners? You must be weary of our human chatter, Holly, feel free to plug yourself in and help yourself to more gnocchi."

"Yep," said the elf. "Still going to leave."

Angeline glared at her husband.

"Look at what you've done!" she snapped. "You've ruined the entire evening!"

His eyebrows shot up. "I have ruined the evening? It was our first-born who decided to invite the cyborg to dine."

Said first-born ignored him. "Holly, please, don't go! Perhaps a little Mesmer–?"

"I wanted to meet your parents properly, Artemis, conscious and with a full grasp of their wits. Seems like tonight's just not that night."

"Thank you, Father," said Artemis stiffly as Holly rose from her seat. "You have managed to embarrass both me, mother and alienate the woman I love."

Artemis Senior looked at Holly. "Run, my dear, run for your life."

"I'm a robot," she said dryly, "remember? I don't have a life."

"Holly," pleaded Artemis. "Holly, please! Don't go!"

But she continued to stride towards the doors. Angeline threw her napkin down, starting after her. The eldest Fowl sat back in his chair.

"Holly!" shouted their son.

Her hand stretched out for the doorknob.

Artemis stood up. "Over ride code 8779676, Hollybot shutdown!"

The elf jerked mid-step, her fingers twitching, her shoulders shuddering, before her upper-torso flopped forward at the waist. Her eyes dimmed and grew glassy.

"Oh my God," whispered Angeline.

Artemis Senior sighed and got to his feet. He tossed his napkin onto his plate and walked forwards.

"We'll call Doctor Hammstein in the morning," he said, patting his son on the shoulder as he left.

Again, I have work to be doing... So this dribbles out of my brain.

Just a oneshot - unusual for me.

Review, please? And give me a little essay motivation? I desperately need it...