Chapter 48.
There were two reasons why Brains hadn't installed a proper kitchen module on Thunderbird Five.
For starters, she hadn't been designed to act as a permanent residence. Jeff's original plan had been for his sons to work an alternating rota aboard the space station, while he coordinated the deployment of his remaining earthbound sons in the other Thunderbird crafts. Unfortunately, the unpredictable and volatile nature of rescue calls had made maintaining such a rota downright impossible.
Rescues were like buses. Nothing for ages, then three or four all at once.
Still, the rota had at least allowed all of his boys to become space rated. And John had taken care of the 'permanent residence' nonsense with a couple of extra oxygen tanks and a bagel machine.
Secondly, John was a terrible cook. As in, Sally Tracy level terrible.
But what his beloved 'Bird lacked in kitchen equipment, she more than made up for with her housekeeper. Or EOS, as she was now known.
Of course, EOS had been delighted when John had contacted her and asked if she'd be willing to assist him on his culinary expedition. She'd agreed to temporarily forward all incoming emergency calls to local authorities and the GDF (not that there were any coming through still), and had patched herself into the mobile station on Tracy Island within two minutes of his call.
One other benefit of Thunderbird Five that surpassed a kitchen was her ability to self-regulate her onboard environment without the need for a crew, living or artificial.
"I can't believe I get to observe how humans prepare their food," EOS gushed, her girlish tone high with excitement, "I've done a bit of preliminary research and compiled some data which I think you will find most helpful. Would you like me to convert it into graph format for your viewing pleasure?"
"No thanks," John grunted, his attention absorbed by the list of recipes he was scrolling through on Alan's tablet, "That data will be redundant unless I can find something on here that's allergen free. I don't suppose you could upload my medical files and run a scan to help me filter out the ones that might kill me?"
"With pleasure," EOS replied, her lights blinking as she processed John's request, "Action complete. I've narrowed your search down to six options, however my precursory research indicates that option number three will give you the best chance of surpassing your younger sibling."
John felt his face split into a smile at the promise of beating Gordon, "Excellent, what is it?"
"Soup," EOS replied happily, "Specifically, carrot soup. I've calculated the optimum number of calories an adult human should consume in one meal and cross referenced it against a database detailing which vitamins the body needs to maintain good health. Carrot soup is high in fibre and potassium, as well as vitamins A, K, and B6. Furthermore, it also lacks any ingredients your immune system might reject, such as shellfish, peanuts, soy, and caraway."
There was a loud sigh as John tried to imagine the sounds his brothers would make when they found out that carrot soup was on the menu.
"What are the other five options?" John asked, "Are they all soups?"
"Yes," EOS answered, giggling slightly, "It's a most enjoyable word to say, is it not? Soup. Soooooup. Sooooooooooup."
John rolled his eyes at the AI's immaturity, "EOS, I need you to run another scan for me. I can't possibly make my main dish carrot soup."
Despite having no physical form, John could sense the frown of disapproval on EOS's non-existent face, "Why not? Is it because of the comparisons your siblings might draw between the soup's colour and your hair pigmentation?"
"No," John huffed, fighting to keep a grip on his temper, "Look, I don't know if you encountered this in your research, but carrots are not typically a food most people consume out of choice. Out of necessity maybe, but definitely not out of choice."
"Why not? They are full of health promoting compounds, and physical health should be every human's top priority," EOS argued.
While John had to admit that the AI's logic was sound, he still wasn't in favour of her suggestion that he serve his family carrot anything for dinner.
"I hear your point, but our meal won't be met with approval if its main ingredient is one that inspires revulsion," John countered, "Our priority is beating Gordon, remember?"
"That is not a concern," EOS chirped, her lights blinking with each syllable, "It will not take a great deal of physical or mental exertion for you to exceed your younger sibling's performance. I've accounted for multiple variables and still calculate the odds of you losing to him at six thousand two hundred and seventeen to one. Really John, you should have more faith in your intellect."
John could tell when he was being manipulated. Behind all of her data-driven vocabulary and terrible attempts at flattery, EOS was trying to twist his arm into doing what she wanted.
And she wanted carrot soup.
"Isn't there anything we could combine the carrots with?" John tried, opting for negotiation over confrontation, "Like carrot and coriander, or carrot and ginger?"
"You are allergic to coriander," EOS reminded sharply, "And ginger has been known to give you heartburn when not in the form of tea."
John sighed. His options were limited. While he could pull the 'I made you' card on EOS up to a point, there could be no denying that she possessed the ability to drain Thunderbird Five's oxygen supply in three seconds flat if she wanted.
Plus, she was a child. A child who threatened to eject his underwear into space every time he beat her at chess. Surely it was only a matter of time before she turned that particular warning into a very embarrassing reality.
He could imagine the conversation now.
'Hey, Alan? Could you launch Thunderbird Three and scour the asteroid belt for my undies, please? Six pairs, all blue. Kindly shake the space dust off before you drop them through the airlock. Love you.'
It was no good. His dignity was quite literally in EOS's hands (or processors…he wasn't exactly sure how her programming translated into human anatomy).
"Alright, fine," John seethed, suddenly realising how much simpler life had been before one of his codes had gained sentience, "What ingredients do we need, and in what quantities?"
"5 cups of chopped carrots, 2 cups of water, 1 tablespoon of butter, and 1 tablespoon of olive oil," EOS recited, clearly pleased at getting her way.
John's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, "Is that everything? Just four ingredients?"
"You're allergic to the other three the recipe recommends," EOS replied, "But it doesn't matter. I've calculated the collective mass of the ingredients we can't use and recommend that we compensate by increasing the quantities of the ones we can use."
There was a moment of silence as John digested this piece of rather warped logic.
"You look distressed," EOS noted, "Are you having a bowel movement?"
"What?" John squawked, horrified at the bluntness of the AI's questioning, "No, EOS! And it's not socially acceptable to make comments like that in public, understand?"
"Noted," EOS crisply replied, "Although the only people in your immediate vicinity are family members, and my research shows that family members are often familiar with each other's defecation and urination schedules."
"EOS!" John gasped, slamming a spoon down in anger, "Enough! There are some things that just aren't meant to be discussed, okay? If you like, I'll make you a list of such topics once I'm back up in Thunderbird Five, but for now, kindly cease all comments pertaining to human excrement."
"As you wish," EOS sulked, her tone clipped, "Based on your physical and behavioural response to my question, I theorise that you would make a very bad parent. Your willingness to expand the knowledge of others is severely lacking."
"Whatever," John snapped, ferreting around in the vegetable drawer and digging out the required quantity of carrots, "Am I boiling or roasting these things?"
"Frying, actually," EOS answered sourly, "Remember to add the butter. I'll tell you when to pour in the water."
A tense silence descended over the kitchen, broken only by Celery's barks as she ran around the pool in pursuit of Sherbert.
"You need to turn the heat down," EOS grouched, "You're going to burn the carrots before the recommended cooking time has finished."
John scowled, but did as instructed. Once satisfied that the carrots were no longer in danger of combusting, he walked away from the stove and out towards the patio, relishing the fresh sea breeze that blew across the pool and ruffled his hair. Of course, he knew EOS could still see him and would no doubt follow him. She'd hack an appliance as mundane as the kettle in a bid to keep him within her sight.
He'd definitely have to work on her clinginess. She was far worse than any wife, girlfriend, sister, mother, or grandmother he'd ever come across.
"Are we going for a walk?" EOS asked, her lights blinking in excitement, "I've been remotely cataloguing all of the fish species around Tracy Island. So far, I've obtained data on the Dogtooth Tuna and Giant Trevally with Gordon's assistance, however I'm missing the dimensions of an adult Houndfish. Would you be willing to assist me?"
"Maybe later," John muttered. He was in no rush to get wet, and Gordon was the authority on all things water-related. Not him.
"Please?" EOS wheedled, her tone high and pitiful, "I'll list you as a co-author when I publish my findings!"
"I said maybe later," John repeated, his voice showcasing his immunity to flattery, "I'm going down to Thunderbird Two's hanger. You're in charge of watching the carrots while I'm gone. Alter the temperature as necessary, and turn them off when they're done."
EOS let out a hiss of disapproval that almost caused a power surge, "As I said, your parenting skills are nothing short of abysmal. You should go for a procedure to ensure you never procreate. I'll research some private clinics and book an appointment for you."
"Knock yourself out," John yelled, turning off onto a dirt path that branched off from the patio. The route was lined with wild frangipani flowers, the vibrant yellow and white of their petals offering a stark contrast against the lush green backdrop of ferns and banana trees. The air was heavy with the scent of seawater and aircraft fuel, a smell that both comforted and disgusted John whenever he was home.
Speaking of disgust…
Squelch.
John cringed as his left foot came into contact with something moist and soft.
"You have got to be kidding me!" the redhead groaned, bending to inspect the damage and recoiling in horror when he saw what his poor shoe had fallen victim to, "Shit?"
"Yes, I believe that is what you have just stepped in," EOS interjected, her voice projecting from one of the concealed solar lights lining the path John was on, "Dog shit to be precise. The producer is the mongrel your brother rescued from Rio de Janeiro. I believe she now goes by the name of Celery."
John felt a gag bubble up his diaphragm, revulsion radiating from every cell in his body as he kicked off his contaminated shoe and lobbed it into the undergrowth.
"Dog shit has a unique consistency and a particularly offensive odour. This is because the canine digestive system is incapable of absorbing grains and other starches," EOS continued, aware that she was twisting the knife, "Apologies, I remember that I am not permitted to discuss such topics. I'll return to monitoring the carrots."
There was a soft beep as EOS disconnected herself from the solar light and returned to her unit in the kitchen. Even she knew to steer clear of her creator when his mood turned sour. Her research on whether a link existed between red hair and aggression had been inconclusive. She'd need to gather more data after she finished her investigation into why humans were so opposed to discussing their bowel movements. As far as she was concerned, it was valuable information worth sharing. If she were capable of having her own bowel movements, John would never hear the end of it.
"I wonder if an orphanage would take her?" John mused as he began to hop back towards the patio, his unshod foot suspended in the air, "Gordon! I just stepped in whatever your stupid dog had for dinner last night!"
There was a bellow of laughter from Virgil, who was stood in front of a half-finished canvas in the lounge. Sprawled on one of the nearby sofas was Gordon, an iced tea in one hand, and a sandwich in the other.
"Seriously?" Gordon cried, his eyes bright with excitement as he discarded his drink and ran to meet his one-legged brother, "That's fantastic news!"
"Excuse me?" John spluttered, his tone a mixture of intrigue and disbelief.
Gordon beamed as he broke the crust off his sandwich and tossed it into Celery's food bowl.
"Yeah! Means she's finally stopped pooping in Scott's room."