Christmas just five days away, the hillside suburban town of the major Eastern American city was left with a thick layer of frosty snow, and the bitter cold drifting in from the north.
Down in the center of the suburb, Polyneux Junior High School was also subject to the bitter winds, and no less was the coldest day of the year the day of the semesterly field trip for the art class of ordinary student Timothy Morton, and the infamously not-so-ordinary attendee of the middle school, Robot Jones.
In the incredible wait to board the buses, robot and human were standing side-by-side in their own row. Protected by just a thick, dark orange jacket, brown gloves and matching ear covers, Timothy, better known by the nickname "Socks," was, like many of the kids, was reduced to a shivering mess, freckled cheeks exposed to the smacks of the icy wind.
The tall blond had his arms tucked against his ribs, and he's chattering teeth showed between his lips. "I can't believe it! The last day before Christmas break, and they're making us go on a s-stupid field trip to the s-stupid art museum!"
"Affirmative, Socks unit," Robot uttered calmly. "As much as I don't see the merits of observing the paint strokes of long dead craftsman," the little Robot then mustered a brave grin and looked up at his tall friend, "At least it will be a change in educational input."
Socks humphed at Robot's attempt to look for a bright side. If there were anything he missed about elementary school, it were the frequent and spontaneous field trips to disrupt the flow of the standardized education. Though the place sucked tremendously, at least if it were the Zoo, Socks would be able to split up with with his friends, run around freely, and see the monkeys douce people with urine. But at the pier, due to the danger of the water, they would be expected to stay in single file line, ordered around by a chaperone, and be quiet and well behaved. And next to the water, it was sure to be even colder.
Robot couldn't quite comprehend why Socks was so upset, when it had been this very human who had, less than six months ago, explained that "any reason to get out of school is a good thing.". Perhaps it was that Robot himself had never had the experience of visiting the Zoo with his peers in elementary school, thus he didn't know what fun he was missing.
"Move it up!" shouted the voice of their regular bus driver, who, by his tone, was no happier to be stuck driving them to the museum as the kids were to go to it. As usual, Robot was the only one to be displaying any level of optimism, but only because he viewed every new experience as life changing adventure. Even something as monotonous as a museum trip.
As they stepped forwards, kids shoved each other aside to climb the stairs of the bus. Socks felt the need to address the temperature again. This time by audibly chattering his teeth.
"It's a good thing that I've just had a heater installed," Robot said, unzipping his coat and opening his chest to show the gang. True to his word, a digital heating system with long, glowing orange bars and a thermostat sat in the left hand side of his chest. Robot shut the door and rezipped his coat. "The cold is no longer problem for me."
"K-k-k-k-k-Luck-ky you," Socks muttered. "Hey, where did Mitch and Cubey go? They should have been back by now."
"Right here," promptly replied the one named Mitch, yanking his companion from behind. Mitch and Charles, preferably called "Cubey" looked oddly disheveled and upset after what was supposed to be a simple trip the bathroom. "I dared him to stick his tongue to the light pole, and now he can't talk right."
"Ewrt ez geh" Cubey tried to say, failing to communicate with a swollen tongue.
"What did you say?" Robot asked.
"How did you get him unstuck?" asked Socks.
"Mehch droweled on meh tung," Cubey said.
"Dude, we can't understand you!"
"I could have sworn," Robot tried, "that he said Mitch drooled-"
"He said 'art is gay.'" Mitch cut in quickly.
A snotty girl shoved passed them back up to the front of the line, with her own class. "Mature much," she said under her breath as she passed.
Cubey violently wrang out his tongue in his hands to bring the sensation back. With the revived ability to talk, he said, "That's better. So, you guys pumped, too?"
"Pumped?" asked Socks. "To stare at walls for 4 hours?"
"He's being sarcastic," Mitch explained. "This trip is a joke."
"Oh no, Mitch," Cubey said, dramatically. "There's nothing I'd like better than to spend my well earned Christmas Break writing a TWO THOUSAND WORD essay on why I should care about an angsty painter from 200 years ago."
"They're gonna give us a paper to write too?" Socks stammered, remembering how hard it is for him to complete papers.
"Most defamoundo," said Mitch.
"Pardon?" Robot asked, as casual slang sometimes didn't register in his system as understandable English.
Before Socks could translate for him, the boys heard a voice from up ahead. Mitch got on his tiptoes and peeked over the line of kids. "Is that-no way."
Socks and Cubey leaned around the line to see what the commotion was at the front of the line. Robot, who had just bragged about his temperature comfort, suddenly felt all heat rush to his face. His eyes fogged over, and he rubbed his eyes furiously, but the mist was beneath his lenses. "S-S-Shannon?"
"Who's cold now?" mocked Socks.
She must be in the other period class, thought Robot. His CPU was running faster at the sudden prospect of being closer to her. Shannon was with her class nearer to where only one of two supposed buses to take them to the museum were loading. The voice that was shouting actually belonged to her friend, Pam, who was, at Robot's distance, ranting about something related to her guardian grandmother. As Pam rattled on, eyes darting between her and Stacey, Shannon turned and saw Robot looking at her. She blushed and looked away. Because it was hard for Robot to keep something like this a secret, Socks and the gang knew about all Shannon's complicated feelings for Robot, but the rest of the school hadn't a clue that anything had changed. Especially not Pam. And lately Shannon had tried to distance herself from Robot in fear that everybody else would figure it out, and make their life at middle school all the more unbearable with various taunts and perhaps even exile for Shannon from the group of girls-at least Robot wouldn't have that to worry about with his own friends. Unfortunately this meant Robot had been seeing even less of her lately than he did before he knew that she liked being around him.
"What's she yelling about?" asked Mitch.
"I don't know, but Pam is..." Cubey announced, lifting his glasses up a little to goggle at Pam, then snapped to, rolling his eyes. "Meh. Girls are such drama queens."
Pam's ranting ended as soon as she shoved her way up the steps of the bus, followed by Stacey. Shannon being the last to follow, she seemed to stall just long enough for Robot to notice how distracted and unhappy she looked, though she did not give Robot another glance.
"Wait," Mitch said, "Why are they shutting the door?"
"It must be full," Robot replied absentmindedly.
"So, wait, where's our bus?" asked Socks.
The art teacher leading this trip climbed onto the last bus that was filled, and the door was shut. Meanwhile, Mr. McMcMc, standing in as one of the chaperones for this trip, shouted into a walkie talkie he was carrying. "I don't care what they say, Clancy. Get that bus here now! We need to get on the road before 10AM."
He turned off the device, shoved it into his pocket, and addressed the remaining children. "Alright, everybody, listen. Period four filled up bus one. Period seven, you have bus two, which should be arriving in approximately… ," he pulled his sleeve back to check his watch, "Twenty minutes."
The children erupted in a chorus of moans.
Robot averted his gaze from Shannon for the same reason she looked away from him, sighing a little bit, but sucking it up for the sake of privacy. He turned his attention over to his shrill math teacher, wondering if his barking was really going to get the bus to arrive any sooner. He didn't share McMcMc's concern about getting back on time, though.
During their wait, it was assured that any kid who wasn't already annoyed with the trip definitely wasn't happy about it by the time bus two finally pulled up behind Polyneux Middle School. Only Robot's mind was not consumed with the miserable weather, but on the depressed look used by his crush moments earlier. The only time Robot had ever heard Shannon so upset was because of something he did. Something was definitely wrong. And if Shannon was not happy, he was not happy.
Socks finally unstick his frozen lips and said, "Learn s-smern. All we're going to do is l-look at some dumb old paintings."
"Stay in single file!" McMcMc nagged them as the frozen children rushed onboard. "Hurry, hurry."
"You don't have to tell us twice," Mitch said under his breath.
Socks and Robot filed on with the other kids of their class onto bus one, all but Robot sighing at the welcome warm rush that hit them as they boarded the bus.
An hour and a half on the road later, the bus pulled up to the bus drop off on the side of the museum, across from the pier.
The kids reluctantly departed. Robot knew bus one must have arrived early, because neither Shannon nor Pam were anywhere in sight. McMcMc got off and shouted into his megaphone. "Now, children, we'll go through the first two sections of the museum as one group on a guided tour. After that the parents will have arrived and four groups to one parent willall will be led back here at promptly 1:30PM. Anybody horsing around or touching things will be given an all-access one week ticket to detention. Any questions?"
Cubey raised his hand. "When's lunch?"
Some of the kids laughed.
McMcMc was unamused. "Lunch break will somewhere between noon and twenty after." His eyes suddenly darted suspiciously to Robot and his pals. "If we stay on schedule."
Everybody headed inside the museum as quickly as they could, extra sensitive to the wind because of that morning. After initial check-in, McMcMc stood opposite the art teacher and performed a head count.
"Clancy, head to the back and make sure the kids don't stay away. I'll be up front. No where is that museum guide..."
"Right here!" said a flamboyant man's singing voice as a muscular man with a mustache fluttered down the stairs before the museum building.
"Isn't that Mr. Workout?" Robot asked.
"That's Mr. Creative here, sweetheart," Workout winked at them.
"Francis! What are you doing!" Stuart McMcMc demanded of his fellow teacher.
Workout put a hand on his hips. "Well, didn't you know, I lead tours here every Friday. Why do you think I'm never at school on Fridays anymore? Pff... Anyway," he said smiling, "There's much culture to be had for the peepers, so everybody into two single file lines. I expect the best behavior out of my Rainbows! Come along, children!"
Robot groaned, not exactly thrilled to have yet another loopy adult in his midst, but did as requested, forming into a line along with the other students.
Inside, the kids threw their coats into a filthy looking bin kept for all the touring schools. Some kids, like Socks, chose to carry theirs around, instead of risking catching lice from the many classes passed who had used the same bin.
"This is The Scream, ladies and gentlemen," Mr. 'Creative' said, stopping in front of the first picture. "One of the most tragic paintings in history. Can anyone tell me what you see?"
"I see some sort of disfigured human with a look of horror on his face," Robot said, speaking up. "Perhaps he is upset about his baldness?"
Mr. Workout self-consciously felt the top of his head, causing more students to laugh. Getting quickly over red cheeks, he sighed. "Oh Robot, you are so excellent in Gym class, but you can't see beyond surface level, can you? Clearly, this painting is his expressing sadness, eternal torment, against a society which does not accept his lifestyle. His sexual being. His soul." Workout wiped away a tear. "It's truly beautiful."
"How did you extrapolate all of that from this image alone?" Robot asked. "For all the context we have, perhaps he just stepped on a nail."
But Workout would not hear it, and instead lead them to the next painting, by Grant Wood. "This is American Gothic. What do you see?"
Robot scanned the image, replying methodically as he had before. "I see a man, a woman, a pitchfork and a house."
There was the sound of crickets. "Anyone else?" Mr. Workout asked.
All of the sudden, a skinny arm shot up. It belonged to none other than Lenny Yogman. "I SEE the image of the Great Depression, resonant in his tired wrinkles and her glum expression." He snickered. He was reading out of a museum pamphlet.
"Very Good, Leonard!" exclaimed Mr. Workout.
"Well, they do look quite miserable," Robot concede, however loath he was to have to agree with a Yogman on something.
"Aren't we all," muttered McMcMc, who was clearly bored. Art made as little impact on him as much of these children. He looked at his watch. "Goodness gravy boat, when are the parents going to show up already?"
"Hey!" Mitch said, looking out the window, "Them der's the parents!"
The kids groaned, some of them worried about having to encounter their parents around the other kids. The parents and other volunteers joined the group upstairs, Robot's own mother-Mom Unit as she was otherwise called-in the back-most of the other parents had run from her, terrified. "Hello little Robot," said Robot's mother, patting him on the head.
Robot smiled with gritted teeth. "Greetings, Mom Unit," he said, as he did love her however much he worried she'd cause a ruckus. "It is... good to see you here."
"Mrs. J! I didn't know you volunteered to chaperone!" said Socks, secretly grateful his own parents were too busy to volunteer.
"I'm afraid I didn't realize you were going to chaperone for us either, Mrs. Jones," said McMcMc, raising his eyebrow suspiciously.
"I suppose Robot forgot to tell his friends," Mrs. Jones deducted, "Just as he conveniently forgot to add the date of the trip to the house agenda program."
They looked to Robot, who chuckled awkwardly. "Affirmative. I suppose I forgot..." Behind his back, he shredded the paper reminder he was supposed to have given her.
"Quite," McMcMc said. Though he hadn't quite gotten over the fear of the parents, he was far more annoyed than afraid, compared to Madman. "Alright, children, pick one of our five chaperones-"
The next thing he knew, McMcMc was being trampled by 40 kids rushing to pick their chaperone-the adult who looked the most ordinary. Just as he feared, with nobody lining up behind her, Robot had no choice but to go and stand next to his own mother. Great, now she's going to turn this into another DLE assignment. Hoping things couldn't get any worse, Robot waited to see which of the students might be forced to deal with his mother too.
Loyalty prevailed this time, when Socks stepped forward with a smile, and gave him a high five.
"I knew I could count on you," Robot fibbed slightly, breathing a sigh of relief. "For a moment there I was worried I would end up with Pam or a Yogman or something," he confided in Socks when he was close enough.
"Are you kidding?" said Socks, "This is going to be awesome!" When Robot's mom wasn't listening, he leaned in and said, "All we have to do is distract your mom, then we'll run off and have some fun."
Robot considered this, looking at his mother and then back to Socks. "Are you sure it would be wise to leave her on her own?" Robot asked.
"Ah, she'll be fine. She's an adult, isn't she?" he asked.
McMcMc, trodden, managed to straighten himself up and raised his voice over the crowd. "Before you all go off, each group has been assigned a piece of art to report on. Your job is to hunt down where it is, talk it over with your partner, and write up the assignment. These numbers were written up by your regular art teacher. Morton, Jones, here's your assignment," he said, handing Robot and Socks a piece of folded up paper that simply had, "Section 6, number 24" on it.
Robot looked over the paper, and then referred to the map. "That way," he said, pointing sharply in the right direction while the other students scattered.
On their way there, Socks winked at Robot. "It's go time. Mrs. Jones?"
"Yes Socks?" Mom Unit asked.
"Before we find the painting, could I ask you to quickly help me with a math problem?"
"Oh, certainly. What is it?"
Socks quickly whipped out a ball of crumpled paper from his pocket, which on the back, Robot read, was a failed piece of homework that had been due a week ago. "This one question is asking me to recite the first 10,000 numbers in Pi. But, darn, I'm afraid I just can't remember them all. Can you help me out?"
"I can help you with that," she replied, taking the paper in her pump-like hands and beginning to read them out slowly and concisely. Robot believed she was immobilized now.
Socks grabbed his wrist after she counted off the 20th number. "She should be like that for a while. We'll come back to get her later. Let's go walk down to the pier."
"But isn't that unwise?" Robot asked, remembering what their instructor had said on the bus.
"Nah, we'll be back before they even notice."
Though he wasn't sure, Robot wasn't one to argue with Socks's wisdom, as it had helped him out in a number of predicaments. His claws were tied. Socks led him away from the group, down a few halls, and out of the museum. Outside it was still freezing, but Socks seemed to be too excited about their escape to care anymore. Robot, on the other hand, was too paranoid to enjoy himself.
On the pier they stopped at shops and gazed up at tourist merchandise. Thankfully, none of the passers by seemed to suspect these kids were supposed to be on a school trip, though it wasn't like Robot didn't get the usual gawks and glares thrown his way. When lunchtime came, Socks bought a bag of hot chestnuts and shared some with Robot, who was slightly disappointed they didn't serve metal ones. While he wanted to go back to the group, Socks kept insisting on places for them to look for 'fun'. "
"Socks, we've only got an hour and we haven't even seen one section of the museum yet." The further they got from the museum, the more anxious Robot became. "Besides, I don't have a rough estimate for how long my mother can read off Pi before her sensors indicate that we are no longer there listening."
That statement was the one that finally made Socks nervous. A seagull that had braved the cold weather to remain up north sounded in the distance, and the both of them narrowly avoided getting splattered on. "Maybe you're right," Socks said, tugging his collar, feeling like the time for fun had run out.
After checking his internal clock for the one-hundreth time, Robot convinced Socks to go take their steps backwards to the pier. But before they were three quarters there, Socks stopped outside of a sketchy looking restaurant.
"Oh man... I have to go to the bathroom…' Socks handed Robot the piece of paper McMcMc had given them. "Here. Go on without me. When you get back there, see if you can figure out this stupid painting we're supposed to find is at. You're good at maps and stuff."
"But Socks-"
But Socks was already inside and running for the men's room. Patrons of the restaurant glaring at Robot as he gazed through the window, the automaton reluctantly left. Seeing as Socks had bragged about having burritos for breakfast, Robot imagined he was going to take a while, and decided to not wait for him after all. But despite his knowledge of how to get back, being alone and in the open in a strange place made Robot feel incredibly vulnerable. The humans passing him on the street suddenly appeared giant, and he felt so tiny… Why did he agree to go out here?
"Smart… right."
When he turned a corner, a female voice whispered at him. "Psst. Robot."
Robot heard the voice quite clearly, and immediately swiveled his head in the direction it had come from, blinking.
It was Shannon poking her head out from behind a pillar. "Where's Socks?" she said, her voice still low.
"He is using the bathroom," Robot replied, his tone somewhat shyer. "Did you find the location of your painting assignment?"
Shannon rolled her eyes. "Two hours ago. Stacey convinced her mom to let us go shopping with all the extra time we had."
"Where are they?"
"I have no idea!" Shannon threw her arms into the air. "And you know what? I'm glad I don't."
"What happened? Did you get into a fight?"
Shannon sighed. "No. It's hard to explain. Pam wouldn't stop talking about this and that, and what color Janie changed her hair to, and who's the lead singer in Jukebox Rockers, he's cute, and what's your wedding dress going to look like… Her and Stacey talking about all this... stuff… it's dumb. It's all so dumb. I've never been able to put a word to it before. But that's what it is."
"Why would that upset you? I thought girls liked that stuff."
"Yeah. I thought I did too." She glared, not at Robot, but at an invisible person in the distance. "I took a walk to get some quiet and think, and I… I guess I got lost."
Robot was intrigued. "Shannon, I never knew Pam annoyed you."
"Something was different today," she said quietly. "One of the paintings in the museum reminded me of a drawing I did back in grade school, and Pam segued into how she thought the painting was snobby and pretentious and something inside me just snapped..."
Robot dared to step closer, to solidify the closeness he felt to her. "That sounds familiar…" Both to the frustration with Pam's attitude, and Shannon's feelings about art. A few months ago, Robot had seen one of Shannon's old drawings at her house, and the topic seemed to be particularly sensitive to her. When there had been times when Robot's own friends had laughed at him, at the end of the day, Robot knew why he was still friends with him. Maybe it was because he was an outsider to the situation, but Robot could never quite get a sense that the kind of friendship Robot had with the guys was the same that existed between Shannon and Pam. And if the time was ever right to beg the question, now was the time. Shannon might have walked in line with the so-called "popular" girls, but she was always separated by a mysterious, invisible barrier that prevented her from being one. It was the same barrier that blinded Robot from seeing any girl as worthy of obtaining except for Shannon.
A gust of wind picked up the hood of her jacket from behind, and brought her back down to earth. "I can't say I'm mad at who I ran into."
Robot looked around, making sure no one was watching, and then give her a big, warm hug, closing his eyes. He'd never dared embrace her in public before, frightened of the consequences.
When they arrived back at the building, it occurred to both kids that they would have to sneak in especially carefully as to avoid McMcMc. The exit that both kids used to get out of the museum was on the side of the building, and it hadn't been a fire exit. But when Robot tried to push his way through, the heavy old metal-frame door was firmly locked.
"Must be a security thing," the automaton hissed under his breath. But the door would not budge. "Maybe I could break the glass."
"Don't do that! Then we'd really be in trouble," Shannon reminded him.
Robot sighed. "Come on, then. Let's see if we can get in around front."
They moved to a corner stone and peered around to the front entrance. Unfortunately, a new obstacle was in the way. "It's Mr. McMcMc," said Robot.
"Why is he just standing there?"
"Looks like he's yelling into his walkie talkie about something…"
"But how are we going to get inside now?"
Robot stood up straight. "It would assist us greatly if you did some of the thinking for once."
Shannon did not acknowledge this statement with a verbal reply. Instead, she started to walk away.
Robot had had enough. "Shannon, I can no longer stand it." He put on the toughest tone he could muster. "You have better tell me what is bothering you if we have any hope of resolving it. I may be able to burn down walls with my eyes, but I can't read your mind."
Suddenly, Shannon halted, and slammed her fist into the brick wall. Robot almost cried out, thinking she'd broke her hand. "I can't kiss you in public, you can't take me out on a date, and you can't even find our way into this stupid museum. But you can sure answer stupid questions in class."
Robot suddenly looked very unimpressed. "I could easily do those first two things for you if Pam did not have you on a leash like a dog, which is hardly my fault. Do you think I enjoy having to keep everything a secret because you are too weak to stand a fraction of the ridicule I put up with every single day?"
"I think it gives you less of a chance to get ridiculed."
"Oh, no," Robot says, "I am already on the bottom of the ladder, socially speaking-I am not even legally recognized as a person . I do this farce to protect you, because I know how much importance you place on having the approval of Pam and her mob that openly mocks me while you stand there and do nothing. I put up with a lot for this relationship."
"And so do I!" she shouted. "And, for the record, you're not the only one who is ridiculed." She stormed off and left him without a chance for a clever reply.
Robot watched her leave. He thought of several things he could have replied to her with, but she was too far away to hear any of it without him shouting now. He let out an exhausted sigh, and began walking in the opposite direction.
Shannon, ridiculed? Except for a few times when Robot had been too forward with his approaches, when has that ever happened? It was hard to pity anybody for being an outcast when you're Robot Jones-walking mockery of Polyneux. But now Robot couldn't help but consider her prosthetic and obvious headgear, and wonder if there was more to her inability to truly belong to the 'popular' crowd than having Robot follow her around.
Robot found yet another door that appeared to be a staff entrance only to find it locked as well. In his frustration, he lifts his leg to kick it down, but dismissed the momentary impulse. Well, I suppose I'll just have to come clean to McMcMc, he thought to himself, beginning to walk in a circuit around the building.
But before he could reach the main entrance, a voice behind him caught him by surprise. "Why, is the little Robot lost?"
It belonged to Lenny and Denny, and this time, they had some sort of device in their hands.
Robot turned around as swiftly as he could manage, facing them. "Oh, you two again?! I am not in the mood for any of your antics right now," he said, sounding both irritated and scared.
Lenny and Denny chuckled. "As if we cared what you felt like. Matter of fact, as if ANYBODY cared about what you felt like. Certainly your girlfriend doesn't..."
Robot blinked. "What?" he said, trying to sound as if he didn't know what they were talking about.
"Isn't that sad?"
"So you two overheard our conversation," Robot said, sounding remorseful. "I suppose it is true what my grandfather said. All humans are no different from you two, deep down. Very affectionate and bubbly while you are useful to them, but the second that stops..."
"Oh, Robot, but if you had any idea how very useful you are-to US, anyways." Lenny laughed. "Robot, I'd like to introduce you to the YogMote 3000."
"I can only assume that that is some sort portmanteau of the words 'Yogman' and 'remote', while the 3000 part is just there to make it sound sophisticated, not entirely unlike covering dried dog feces with gold spray paint. Am I correct? Your inventions seem to follow a pattern," Robot retorted, subtly backing up slightly as he did so.
"All right, smart guy," Lenny said, smiling, "Can you tell me what a lodestone is?"
"It is an object with magnetic properties," Robot replied. "Why?"
"My brother and I, with our ingenious minds, have figured out how to take the mineral and make it stronger than ever. Do you know what happens to a cassette tape that goes under a very powerful magnet?"
Catching onto what they were intending to do, Robot turned around as quickly as he could and began sprinting in the opposite direction, deciding it was worth further loss of his dignity.
"After him, Denny!" Lenny said, running in his direction.
Denny wasn't as fast as Lenny, however. "Wait up, my legs are shorter!"
Robot continued running, intent on putting as much distance between himself and the twin tormentors as possible. This day just keeps getting worse and worse, he thought, miserably.
Robot reached the front of the museum, but figured it would be too easy. He decided to lose them by hiding behind one of the large pillars up the steps of the building. While Lenny and Denny ran inside without checking the outside pillars, Robot sighed and began looking for another way inside.
He debated waiting outside until the tour ended, or going inside to find help in case they came running back out again. Timidly, he peeked inside the building through a skinny window.
"Robot!" called a voice from above.
Robot looked up. Shannon was peeking out of a window directly above his head, two stories up. "Come up here."
Robot began extending his legs, and reached his arms out to her.
She took his arms and pulled him inside the building, where Robot could slowly retract his legs like measuring tape. "Yogmans?" she asked, sounding concerned.
Robot nodded. "I think they will be busy searching for me for a while," he said, relieved.
"Then we shouldn't stay in one place too long," Shannon said, taking his claw affectionately. It was as if the devil that had possessed her just 15 minutes ago had vanished.
But Robot was more pressed to find out how she got back inside.
"I saw an open window on the second floor for one of the stairwells, and I climbed. It's not all that bad having a metal leg-gives me better grip."
Robot moved with her, concentrating mostly on avoiding the Yogmans now and not really thinking about the earlier drama. "We should we keep moving up or hide somewhere?"
"We only have 30 minutes until the bus arrives. But that's plenty of time for them to find us."
"What's over here?" she said, pointing to a room she hadn't noticed before.
Robot also noticed it. "I had not seen that until you pointed it out," he said, approaching the room's entrance.
As they stepped inside, Shannon gasped. "Hey Robot, weren't you looking for this gallery? Number 6? It's labeled right here."
Robot facepalmed himself. "It was a whole other floor up! I wish someone had told us," he said.
The two looked around the room checking the numbers by every painting. As they passed by a few, Shannon began to notice something uncomfortable about them all. "Hey Robot... is there something odd about all these paintings?"
Robot examined them a bit more closely, and his eyes widened. "Hmm. I think there is," he said, looking perturbed.
"They're so.." Shannon said slowly, "Fleshy colored."
"If I didn't know any better," Robot said slowly, "It's as if they're all suggesting of-" His body suddenly made a loud error sound. Beads of oil ran down the side of his head as he made the horrifying conclusion.
Suddenly she burst out. "I-I found it!" And Robot automatically came to her call.
He looked at Shannon, who was making nearly the same expression. He didn't know whether to run away, vomit, or shut down.
The painting with the number on their sheet was hardly abstract, compared to the rest of the ones in this gallery. In fact, if it were any other painting, the two might have been able to plead a completely different idea about what it was about. But as it was, they were stuck with a pretty realistic depiction of two humans in a compromising position.
In the history of planet earth, there could be nothing more awkward that this young girl and this robot could have encountered.
It was Shannon who spoke first. "This is it."
"Affirmative."
"This is the one that needs to be written about..."
"Affirmative."
It were quiet. Not even the breeze of the indoor heating system was heard in the halls of the museum. It was as if they were in the building all alone.
Shannon turned to Robot. "Well… Good luck," and she turned and headed for the exit.
"Wait, where are you going?" Robot asked.
"I'm done." Shannon turned back to him and shouted. "This is your and Socks' painting. I've already done mine!"
"You are not seriously just going to leave me here!" shouted Robot back. "With this…" the automaton somehow felt a very real wave of nausea. "Come on, Shannon, I need help!"
"Oh, no, I saw your face! You know exactly what this-" she pointed at the painting like it was a murderer, "-is about!"
"Hardly. This is a really human subject, Shannon. Please!"
Shannon's lip wobbled. Robot legitimately looked lost and afraid. "Oh… alright," she took a pencil out from behind her ear, "But let's make this quick."
She approached the painting again, and she and Robot sat on the floor.
"So... we have to talk about what we see in it..."
"Affirmative."
"... so..."
"Well… she has pretty hair," Shannon suggested.
"That is true," Robot agreed. "Write that down…"
As the two worked, just beneath them on the first floor, McMcMc was as agitated as ever. "If your mother wasn't here, Stacey, you girls would be in so much trouble!"
"Like, get a grip," Stacey's mom said, flipping her long California style blond hair over her shoulder. "The girls did their assignment. By the way, honey, where's your little friend with the braces?"
Pam and Stacey looked at each other. "I thought you knew where she was," Stacey said.
"Oh my Gosh, we forgot all about her!" Pam exclaimed.
"What!" McMcMc pulled out the walkie talkie. "Clancy! One of our troops has gone A-Wall!"
Upstairs, Robot and Shannon had somehow managed to squeeze a paragraph out of tiny details about the painting. "The artist is really good at fabric and shadows," Robot injected.
"Right," Shannon agreed. She looked over the paragraph she'd written. It was disjointed and crude, but it was words on paper. "Now I bet you're really grateful your mom isn't here," she teased.
Robot did not reply, but made a nauseous face. In spite of easily being able to see herself caught in such a situation, Shannon giggled at his reaction.
"Hey Robot!" Socks shouted, running down the hallway, almost slipping on the polished wood floor as he rounded the corner into the room. "Your mom stopped counting at a thousand numbers to make sure I was still there-talk about smart machine. And the bus is here."
"Shannon, we need to move," Robot intoned to her, beginning to move back downstairs with Socks.
They prepared to leave, but Socks's eyes grew three times their normal size once he saw the painting. "Wait... I want to study this..."
"Socks!" Shannon scolded.
"Alright!" he said, angry.
"It was not our idea to analyze that one," Robot replied, still moving. As they were making their way downstairs, he hung back a bit, getting within earshot of Shannon again. "Uh, hey, that stuff you said about me earlier..."
She sighed. "I'm sorry. It's going to take me a while to quit being..."
"A jerkface?"he asked, matter of factly.
"Robot!" she said, surprised.
"My apologies for being so blunt. I just need to know that that is not how you are going to treat me whenever I stop being helpful," he concluded.
After taking a moment to show her sincerity, she said calmly. "I'm sorry. I won't ever do that again." She squeezed his claw.
Robot seemed genuinely relieved. "Good. Having you insult me like that was exhausting. You are the only person who really loves me aside from my family, you know that?"
She frowned. "Socks loves you."
Socks, who was paces ahead of them, overheard that, stopped briefly and retorted. "Love… yeah, whatever."
"Really though," Robot said, trying his best to evict emotion in his voice, "You are the furthest progress I have made in integrating myself into human society. I do not want that thrown away over something stupid like getting lost."
Shannon groaned, not looking forward what she was going to have to say. "Robot, I don't know what I'd do without you. You're… well." She blushed. "You're always there for me."
"I am sorry that things cannot be easier for us," Robot said, remorsefully. He sighed. "I am sorry I called you weak. I know how hard it is being ridiculed publicly, I know why you want to avoid it."
"I'm sorry I called you useless... and a dork... and a digital dork... and a geek... and a piano geek... and a mixed up box of broken-"
"HE GETS THE MESSAGE, SHANNON! Ex-nay-da-in-sult-past-n ey."
"Socks is right, we can continue this dialogue later," Robot decided, "for now we need to regroup with the rest of the school."
"Right." Shannon nodded.
"Hey, thanks for covering the report for me, man," Socks winked at Robot.
Shannon humphed again, looking down at the words that she herself had written, that Socks would take credit for.
"There you children are," Mrs. Jones said, back to normal operation. "Robot, I don't know what got into you, but you're in for a punishment when we get home!"
"But Socks and Robot were only trying to find the painting, Mrs. Jones." Shannon defended them.
"Hmmm..." she said, processing. "Is this true, boys?"
"Yes, Mother Unit," Robot replied, "and as a matter of fact, we were able to locate it quite successfully. There was a hiccup with the Yogmans but all ended well."
"Funny you should mention that," Mrs. Jones said, in a much more lighthearted tone. "The Yogman boys were taken away in handcuffs after some gadget of theirs tore down the metal mobile in the mobile section. They were just lucky they weren't crushed. Honestly, humans messing around with magnets..."
Robot chuckled. "Well, we will not be hearing from them again for a while," he said, sounding relieved. "It was about time they got arrested, those maniacs."
Socks gave him a high five. "Yeah!"
McMcMc appeared, looking peeved. "You!" he pointed at Robot. "Get a move on! We're holding up the buses!"
"Well, come along Socks," Robot said, making his way to the buses as McMcMc requested. He gives one last look to Shannon, before trooping away with the rest of the boys.
The boys and girls got on their buses. Mrs. Jones had to go pick up Robot from school, per safety policy-although she didn't go without putting up a fully logical argument against the policy. She WAS a robot, after all.
The Monday after Christmas was when the kids had to present their projects.
McMcMc cleared his throat near the end of the period, just as Mitch and Cubey finished their report. "Yes, very good presentation on The Persistence of Memory, Mr. Cubinacle and Mr. Freeman, but I don't entirely believe Dali's message was about the average school day rotting away the lives of the youth..."
"It's all in perception," Mr. Workout, who was sitting in, winked.
"Quite... Ahem... so, since the Yogmans are still awaiting trial, the next group would be Socks Morton and... ugh... Robot Jones. With their painting..."
Socks and Robot got up and went to the front of the board.
Socks tried first to speak, trying to make it look as though he donated to the project. "Well, we didn't have a ton to say about this painting..."
"... but we did have some," Robot said. "It's rather beautiful, really. Natural. Human."
"Go on," McMcMc said, raising an eyebrow, curiously.
Robot mustered his courage, and began. "Well, I learned from the painting that human beings enjoy sliding stumps inside of each other, and that while it hurts at first, you can learn to enjoy it with time and practice, much like attending school. Babies are made in the act, much as new knowledge is found in a classroom. In a lot of ways, Mister McMcMc is not unlike one of those fleshy stumps, inseminating all of us with newfound knowledge," Robot concluded, hoping that the class would appreciate what he perceived to be a positive metaphor.
The class looked completely confused. A couple of girls made sick expressions.
McMcMc looked angry. "WHAT on earth are you talking about?"
"Boys," Mr. Workout said calmly, "Where exactly do you see these representations in the painting you were assigned?"
"Oh, I'll explain." Robot said. "I photocopied it for projection. Observe:"
And he used his eyes to project the image onto the wall. There was a chorus of gasps erupting from the desk, and Mr. McMcMc shivered in fury. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!"
"I have reported on the image that I was assigned to investigate and analyze," Robot said. "It was not exactly my first choice but I know what happens if I do not obey orders, so..."
"We'd never assign you!..." McMcMc nearly fainted. "I'm going to be fired..."
"Robot," Mr. Workout said, "What number was your painting again?"
"Number 24," Robot replied, truthfully.
"In the sixth section, right?"
"Right. Second floor."
"SECOND floor?" Mr. Workout said. "Oh... I think I know what happened, Stuart. You two got lost, didn't you?"
"Uh..." both Robot and Socks said.
"That section was where all the..." Workout whispered into McMcMc's ear, "Naked paintings are."
Upon hearing this, McMcMc passed out for real.
"Rest in peace," several students muttered among themselves while Robot debated calling an ambulance. "Is he going to be alright?" Robot asked Workout.
"Oh, he'll be fine," said Workout, having had to deal with pass out's before-being a Health teacher. "But I'm afraid you boys aren't going to get credit for that report."
"Are you serious!" Socks asked. "We can't pass the class!"
"Indeed, why should we be punished for an error on the part of our instructors?" Robot chimed in, sounding equally unimpressed.
"Hmm... maybe I can talk with your regular art teacher about it..."
"Is this heaven?" McMcMc said, finally coming too. "Did... did I actually not do enough bad to get sent to hell?"
"No sir, you are still alive," Robot said. Most of the class seemed highly amused by McMcMc's disorientation.
Shannon was blushing furiously at her seat, though nobody but Robot seemed to notice. She felt terrible for starting this mix up.
Despite the prospect of failing the course and other more serious consequences for what they had exposed to their middle school class, Robot, ever the optimist, couldn't help but grin, seeing his least favorite teacher laying flat on his back, muttering stuff about life and death. He looked over at Shannon, who only smiled when Robot's eyes fell upon her. She looked at McMcMc, and because nobody was looking, she winked at him. And he, back at her.
This one-shot started off as an idea I had where Robot gets cornered by the Yogmans on a field trip, and ended up becoming some of a Rhannon fic. Unlike my other RJ stuff, I did add a touch more mature content here and there, such as McMcMc saying 'hell', not to mentioned the suggested 'compromising position' if you catch my drift. So the K+ rating is there for that. But I still wanted to really keep the feel of the show. I was really excited to see how this story did on deviantart when I posted it there, so here we go: I hope you enjoy reading! Comments/Criticism extremely appreciated.
Whatever Happened to Robot Jones? © Greg Miller & Cartoon Network