Everything Changes
Penny strolled up the sidewalk, the day's mail in hand, sorting it as she went. Taking care of little chores like this made her feel as though she still lived here, and she went slowly, savoring the mundanity of it. Uncle Gadget had insisted she live on-campus for at least her first year of college, to "experience all that campus life can offer." Thus far, almost three months into her first semester at Cal Tech, she was less than impressed by "campus life;" she had no interest in sports or sorority car washes or dollar movies at the run-down theatre. Although the lecture series has been excellent, she had to admit; just last month she'd actually met Stephen Hawking when he'd delivered a talk on strengthening core science curriculum. Her dorm room was decent enough, new and well-appointed, and her roommate, a poli-sci major, was out at rallies often enough that Penny usually had the room to herself. Still, Penny had enjoyed coming home on the weekends. Not only was it cheaper to do her laundry here, it gave her the opportunity to check up on her disaster-prone cybernetic uncle.
Brain tried, as he always had, to keep Uncle Gadget out of trouble during the detective's day-to-day cases, but the poor canine was aging and long-frustrated with playing watchdog. Penny paused as she neared the porch, frowning as she thought again of obtaining a suitable puppy for Brain to instruct as his replacement. Penny's specialty was computer systems, not bioengineering, but she was fairly sure the experiment which had given Brain his excellent cognitive abilities could be replicated with another pup. She sighed. Have to do something soon. Uncle is hard enough to keep up with for a normal, healthy person, much less anyone beginning to age and tire. She knew she owed it to the faithful dog to give him time to relax, finally, after years of chasing after Gadget and ensuring the often-oblivious cyborg didn't prove a danger to himself. She continued looking through the pile of junk mail, electronics parts catalogs, and credit-card offers. One plain envelope's return address caught her eye. Speaking of genetics! Cool!
She didn't get the chance to open the letter; a resounding crash from within the house sped her feet up and through the front door. She stopped on the threshold to the kitchen, dismayed but not at all surprised to find her uncle sprawled on the floor, dazed, partly covered in batter. Upturned bowls littered the floor. A large whisk stuck out of his hat on thin metal cantilevers. Oil sizzled on a stove burner. Penny sighed, turned off the stove and plunked a pot lid over the spill, and picked up the bowls. Uncle Gadget boosted himself off the floor, blushing. "Er...I was just starting a beer-batter for the fish, for lunch..." he explained. "Go go Gadget Clean-up Towel." A damp kitchen towel extended from his hat and began wiping the batter off his shoulder.
Penny sighed again, dumping the bowls in the sink. Five minutes. I leave him alone for five minutes. "It's okay, Uncle Gadget. Why don't we just have cold cuts instead?"
"Great idea, Penny! I'll grab some chips from the pantry."
He didn't meet her eyes as he hurried to the walk-in pantry. Penny shook her head. She knew his frequent kitchen accidents embarrassed him, so she didn't say another word about it, simply cleaning the stovetop, bringing lunchmeats and condiments out of the fridge, and slicing up a fresh tomato.
The mail sat on the kitchen counter, forgotten, as lunch turned into a spirited card game at the dining table. They talked and joked and Penny relaxed, happy to see the animation in her uncle's eyes. He was quick to laugh, even at himself – always had been. That was one of his more endearing qualities, which almost made up for his gadget malfunctions and the damage they could cause. As he was dealing a hand of cards, he paused and placed his gloved hand over Penny's fingers. "I'm so glad you're home," he said.
She looked him in the eye, surprised. "Uncle Gadget, I've only been gone a week!"
"I know. It's just...it was kind of a long week, and I...well...I missed you."
Penny shot a glance at Brain, who shrugged and nodded. She'd received numerous updates from the intelligent dog, and although it had sounded like a typically stressful time, it hadn't seemed to be anything the detective and his dog couldn't handle without her. Penny prompted, "But Uncle...didn't you catch the M.A.D. videogame-prototype thieves red-handed and put them in jail?" ...with Brain's help.
"Well, yes."
"And didn't the school librarian confess to holding the mayor hostage in a pit full of hallucinogenic fungi, and throw herself on the mercy of the law?"
"You know, Penny, that was the strangest thing. All along I could have sworn it was that M.A.D. agent dressed like a ballpark custodian. I guess my reputation frightened the poor woman into confessing before I even suspected her!"
"And didn't Chief Quimby approve your vacation time coming up in January?"
"Oddly enough, he seemed to want me to take it sooner. I reminded him I'm always on duty."
Penny smiled at him. "Sounds like a busy week, but nothing you couldn't handle, right?"
Gadget nodded, but his mouth was twisted into a gloomy frown. "Of course! It's just...that is..." He sighed, looked over at her, and gave her a half-smile. "To be honest, I miss coming home and telling you about my day, and hearing about your schoolwork. I know, we talk almost every night," he added, before she could interrupt, "but it's not the same as seeing you here, with your elbows propped on the table like that, and smiling at me."
Penny realized she was in fact hunched over the table, chin resting on her hands and her elbows on the table just as she'd done as a child, when she pretended to be enraptured by her uncle's account of a case he thought he'd solved, as if she and Brain hadn't been there every step of the way helping him. The idea that her uncle did actually observe some things made her smile. Gadget's own smile widened. "See? Just like that!" When Penny snickered, he picked up his cards. "Now, tell me more about that math class; that sounded interesting."
"Uncle Gadget, it's Applied Probabilities in Quantum Mechanics. A little past high school calculus." She doubted he'd understand even the beginning point of the course.
To her surprise, he seemed embarrassed again. "I know. You've grown up to be sharper than your old uncle. Tell me anyway. I like hearing you show off." Penny blushed. Gadget grinned and added, "Besides, it might distract you enough that I can get away with leading a high club next trick."
The afternoon passed comfortably. Penny exchanged knowing eye-rolls and laughter with Brain as Gadget expounded on how, exactly, he'd nabbed the latest batch of failed criminals in Metro City (he was convinced the timely application of his Gadget Cotton Candy Maker had played a pivotal role). After the card game, the three of them went for a walk in a nearby park, where Brain chased pigeons and Penny stood by her uncle as he fed the ducks in the lake, just as she used to do when she was little. She noticed how he smiled when a bevy of spoiled quackers rallied and drove off a visiting heron much larger than themselves; he'd always rooted for the underdog. Not surprising, considering he usually seems so outmatched himself. She knew every one of his cybernetic alterations, and if he'd ever used them to best effect, without any glitches, her uncle would have been a force to be reckoned with. If he ever used them correctly, though, he wouldn't need me.
She was torn about this. It wasn't as though her uncle had begged her to stay; in fact, when they'd looked through the emails various universities had sent last year, Uncle Gadget had urged her to consider MIT. "But that's on the East Coast," she'd pointed out.
"Location isn't important, Penny. You're a smart girl, and you ought to have the best education possible. If the best program is only offered by the University of Alpacastan, then that's where you'll go." He'd smiled proudly at her. "Only the best for my brilliant niece!"
She hadn't bothered correcting him about Alpacastan, whose university only taught wool-weaving and pottery. Uncle Gadget needs me. He can't do his job without me. She'd chosen Cal Tech as it offered a satellite campus right here in Metro City, with additional courses online, and she'd felt venturing too far from home would be dangerous to her uncle's health. She watched his face as they tossed bits of stale bread to the mallards along the peaceful lakeshore. Is he ever going to retire? He doesn't look like he's aged at all. She didn't know his exact age; when she'd asked him about it, years ago, he'd stammered and become flustered and changed the subject. She suspected he didn't know the answer himself. Wish I could fix whatever they did to his brain. She'd grown up under the care of an uncle who possessed extra hands in his hat, extendable arms and springs in his ankles, and she didn't see his cybernetic body as strange; he was just Uncle Gadget, always had been, since the day she'd been placed in his care. He never spoke of the accident which had claimed her parents, nor of his own awful surgery. Penny was certain he didn't remember much at all before the series of operations which had remade him, half-man, half-machine. She knew it was all classified. She'd considered hacking into the Metro City Crime Lab servers to find out more, but hesitated every time, a little frightened of what the truth might be...and then she'd reminded herself it would reflect badly on her famous uncle if she were found out. She'd never do anything to hurt him. He and Brain were the only people she knew she could rely on.
Whatever her uncle did recall must have caused him great distress, though, as the few times she'd gingerly broached questions about life Before, he'd become so sad and silent that she stopped asking. Maybe it's better if he doesn't remember anything. Today, however, his face bore no trace of sadness. His long nose and strong jaw were considerably lightened by the wide smile on his lips and the sparkle in metallic gray eyes. Except for the lines under those eyes, he could have been a young man; his wildly upcurling hair showed no gray strands, despite being at least middle-aged. He grinned mischievously at her, then suddenly shot forth his right hand on telescoping metal segments, startling the whole flock of ducks into flight. They dashed again when he tossed a handful of bread over the surface of the shallow lake, their greedy hunger overcoming their fear. Gadget laughed, and Penny giggled. Touched by his sense of play, she took his other arm in hers a moment.
"Did you want to throw some more?" he asked, retracting his Gadget Arm to offer the rest of the baguette to her.
"You go ahead," she replied. "You can throw farther."
"I have a better idea," he said. "Go go Gadget Copter!"
Penny stepped back as the flexible blades popped out of his hat. In a trice he was skimming over the center of the lake, scattering breadcrumbs far and wide by tossing them up into the whirling 'copter blades. "Uncle, look out!" Penny called, though she wasn't surprised when he swerved a second too late to avoid the gurgling fountain which aerated the water. The waterspout soaked his trenchcoat on his left side, unbalancing him; as he struggled to right himself, the canoers directly ahead yelled a warning. Gadget veered sharply away, and the 'copter blades dipped into the water. One of them snagged on the base of the metal fountain.
"Whoa-oh-ohhh!" he cried, spinning a second before dropping into the lake like an anvil.
"Ruh-oh!" Brain exclaimed, then doubled over laughing. Penny shook her head.
"See? This is why I didn't go out-of-state," she murmured to the dog. She called out, "Uncle Gadget, are you all right?"
His neck extended his head above the water, and he spit out a mouthful of it. "Of course, Penny! Someone should really put a warning sign on that water spout! People could get hurt!" He used his spring-legs to wade back to shore, and stood there dripping, shivering a little as his extra hands helped wring out his coat. "I think the rest of the bread is soaked," he said, producing mush which had been a second small baguette from a coat pocket.
Penny snickered. "That's okay, Uncle. I think those ducks are fat enough anyway." She noticed his shivering hadn't stopped, but knew he would never admit to any weakness. "Brrr."
He perked immediately. "Are you cold, Penny? You know, it is a little chilly today. I think the weather's finally turning. We should get you home...get some blankets and curl up on the couch. I could make beef stew for us."
"Sounds great," she agreed, slipping her arm in his as they walked back to the car. "Let's stop by the store on the way home, and pick up some cabernet for it."
"All right, as long as it all goes into the stew," her uncle said. "I know young people out on their own in college tend to be a little freer with liquor laws, but you're still underage, Penny."
"Yes, Uncle." She was eighteen...nearly nineteen...and had tried brews much more potent than a cab sauv already, but she didn't want to upset him. Though she admired his loyalty to the laws he'd sworn to uphold, it did make him a bit of an annoying stickler sometimes. She sighed. He still thinks of me as a child...well, not like that's new. Even at eleven, she'd been smarter than him, and in some ways more mature, dealing with each plot that Dr Claw foisted on the world with calm determination while trying to keep her uncle out of harm's way.
For all his faults and misconceptions, though, Uncle Gadget adored her. He'd proved it, over and over, throughout her life. With small daily actions, such as kissing her good-night on the forehead every night without fail, or making her pancakes with homemade fruit compote every Sunday, he'd demonstrated an affection for her so steadfast that it had overcome her early loss of both parents. There was the time, for instance, that he'd crushed her first robot, an amateur thing built of Erecto-set parts and cobbled-together servomotors, mistaking it for a M.A.D. spy gizmo. He'd been so devastated by her horrified reaction that he'd arranged not only a tour, but one-on-one tutoring sessions in the very lab that created his gadgets, by Dr Von Slickstein himself! And what about the time she was convinced he'd become so engrossed in his current case that he'd forgotten her birthday? She'd walked home from school, trying to suppress her anger and hurt, trying to be grown-up and not allow it to bother her, when suddenly the Gadgetmobile pulled up alongside her and her uncle told her to get in. He'd driven them straight to the rock concert she'd desperately wanted to attend...and which had been sold-out months before...and escorted her to front-row seats alongside her two best friends from school...and taken them out for pizza, sodas, and all-night bowling afterward.
"Your uncle is so cool," Jesse and Maria had gushed. Penny had looked over at the man confidently bowling a strike with the hand extending from his fedora, his other hands clasped behind his back, smiling all night because he'd made his niece happy. And she'd found herself agreeing with her friends.
He glanced at her now as they drove home. "You know, you don't have to spend every weekend with me, Penny. I understand how busy college life can be. Isn't Homecoming soon?"
"That was last month, Uncle."
"Oh. Wowsers. Has it been that long already?" He shook his head. "Time flies, I suppose. I mean it, though. Don't feel like you have to keep me company all the time. I want you to get out there and...and experience everything you can." He met her curious gaze an instant, seeming uncharacteristically reticent. "You...you've grown up a good deal, Penny. Don't think I haven't noticed. You're not a little girl anymore. I know there are things you need to find out on your own, and I don't ever want you to feel like I'm not encouraging you to go forth into the world and stake out your own life." Penny kept silent, a little surprised at this unexpected turn in conversation. They'd never really discussed this before. Even when she'd been mulling over which scholarship from the numerous universities clamoring for her attendance she ought to accept, her uncle had approached this momentous decision in vague turns and cheerful platitudes. "I want you safe, but not at the cost of your freedom...is any of this making sense?"
"Yes, Uncle," she said. "It's okay...I like coming home on weekends." And other days. There'd been a few times this semester she'd pulled all-nighters, sneaking after her uncle on one of his assignments just to make sure he wasn't captured or killed, then rushing back to the dorm to frantically write a paper or study for an early-morning exam. So far her grades hadn't suffered, but she worried that if she didn't keep tabs on him, Uncle Gadget might run into a situation he couldn't handle on his own, and Brain wouldn't be able to save him, and...
"You don't have to watch out for me anymore, Penny," he said, and she froze. Does he know? Did he finally figure it out? "Hey, I even taught myself how to use the TV remote this week!" He flashed a smile at her, and she relaxed.
"That's good," she replied, and was about to tell him again she honestly didn't mind coming home every weekend, when he said something else.
"You need your own life, Penny. I worry...I worry I've held you back." She stared at him. Gadget swallowed hard and continued. His voice, normally so sharp and clipped, turned soft and apologetic. "I know you really should've been in college years ago. You're a genius, Penny. All your teachers have said so, and I guess I knew that all along...I just didn't want you to go out into the world before you were grown enough to handle it by yourself. I hope...I hope you don't resent me for insisting you not skip grades. You just...you're so beautiful. No, listen, this is important! You're beautiful, and you're bright, and you have no idea how awful some people out there can be." He took a deep breath. "Believe me, I see those monsters every day. People who might resent you because you're smarter, or prettier; people who might want things from you before you're ready to give them...do you understand what I mean?" Stunned silent, she nodded, and he blushed. "Good. I know there's a lot I should've told you before now...I've probably kept you too sheltered. That's my fault. I blame myself for not being a good enough parent to you." Penny opened her mouth to object, but he shook his head. "I know I wasn't! Always off on a case...all those times I left you alone with Brain and ran halfway across the world to deal with some mad scientist or evil thug...why, that's no way to raise a little girl! I just hope...I just hope you can forgive me for all that; and I hope you'll spread your wings and fly now, knowing that I love you very much and I only want you to be happy."
There were tears in his eyes. She'd never seen him cry before. Never. He pulled into their driveway and turned off the engine. A hanky popped out of his hat, dabbing the corners of his eyes. "Excuse me...a little dust in the wind today," he said. He took a deep breath and let it out, forcing cheer. "So! If you'll prep the roast, I'll chop all the—"
Penny threw her arms around him, hugging tight. Even Brain was sniffling, watching from the back seat. She couldn't tell him she'd never been on her own; that all those times he thought he was working by himself, she and Brain had followed him across the globe, helping out, foiling the villains, giving him the credit. Dicsovering they'd been working together as a family certainly wouldn't ease his mind at all; he'd be horrified if he knew how often she'd thrown herself into danger. She simply hugged him. He returned the embrace gently. She wanted to tell him everything was okay, that she didn't resent him, could never resent him, that she knew he'd tried his hardest to be a parent. She'd seen the fire in his eyes, those few times when he saw that she was in trouble, and he'd barreled through every obstacle to rescue her. Uncle Gadget would toss aside any bad guy, destroy any trap, plunge into any danger to ensure she was safe, and knowing this had bonded her to him even when his repeated obliviousness frustrated her. Unable to voice any of this, she just held onto him, took comfort in the gentleness of his arms around her. She knew they were mostly metal, with the strength to crash through concrete, but he cradled her head against his chest in complete tenderness.
"We should get you warmed up," he said, ignoring the fact that he'd been chilled more than she had. Penny drew back, looking at her uncle with new respect. He couldn't meet her eyes. Instead, he threw open the car door and grabbed a sack of groceries. "Come on, Brain! Inside! It'll be cold tonight, according to the forecast. We need to get your Penny warmed up!"
She followed them slowly, wondering at the shift in their relationship. He always just drove off and told Brain to watch out for me. Not like he thought I was old enough to look after myself, but as though it simply didn't occur to him that I might not be...and all along, he felt guilty? So he wasn't as obtuse as I always thought? That made her feel guilty. She realized, suddenly, how hard he must have tried to be a replacement for her parents; though he was frequently sent out on assignments, he spent every minute when he was home with her. He didn't linger after work with friends; didn't go out to drink or socialize; never dated anyone. And it wasn't as though he wasn't interested. Remember how lovestruck he was by Lana Lamour? Not to mention any number of available women he met during cases.
A memory surfaced: once, when Brain had been in disguise at a séance with the Great Wambini, the dog's silly, sultry impression of a blonde actress had made Uncle Gadget fall all over himself trying to impress the "star." Uncle Gadget had thought he'd arranged a date with the actress, even telling Chief Quimby he'd lucked into such a delicious arrangement...and then the next night, Penny had caught her uncle gazing at her from the hall doorway, his mouth twisted in thought, his eyes sad. When she'd turned to ask what was wrong, he quickly recovered himself and suggested they watch a movie together, and made her laugh with silly antics while popping popcorn for them to enjoy. He'd never mentioned the date, even though he'd thought it was a real one. What if he didn't go out because he thought he should be spending more time with me? Oh no. Does that mean he gave up having any kind of social life because he wanted to be a better parent? Dismayed, she stopped on the porch.
Her uncle yelled from inside the house, "Penny! I forgot the wine; it's still in the car. Could you bring it in?" His neck extended around the dining room doorway, and he gave her a sheepish grin. "Your old uncle would forget his head if it wasn't arc-welded on!"
"Sure, Uncle," she responded, managing a smile, and went to fetch the bottle.
