Android Scam

A "My Life as a Teenage Robot" Fanfic

Chapter Three – Fool Me Twice, Shame on Me

 "I ah-reckon there ain't enough room in this yard for the both of us."

The little fellow ambled off of the front porch, wearing a bandana, L'il Cowpoke cow-spotted chaps, and a white ten-gallon hat that nearly doubled his height.  A shiny tin badge was pinned to his shirt.  He strutted slowly, bowlegged-style, to face off with his adversary on the front lawn – his older brother.  "Ah'm a-callin' you out, Black Brad."

"That so, now, Sheriff Tuck?"  Brad grinned wickedly.  "Well, Ah aims to please."

Tuck squinted his face into an intimidating stare.  "Ah'm a-gonna fill yer belly full of styrofoam."  His hand hovered over a bright-orange Nurf pistol hanging from his belt.

Brad moved his hand towards a similar bright-green gun on the belt of his pants.  "Say yer prayers, little varmint."

Tuck squinted even harder, till he could barely see through his eyelids.  "Do ya feel lucky, punk?"

Brad sighed in frustration.  "Tu-uck!  You're mixing genres.  And do I have to wear this stupid hat?"  He took a black cowboy hat off his head and ruffled his spiky red hair.

"Brad, you promised!" protested Sheriff Tuck.

"But I gotta go to the mall later.  It's giving me hat head."

"A-hem."  Tuck tapped his chest.  "I believe I can persuade you to continue our little shootout with four carefully chosen words."

Brad folded his arms across his chest.  "I'm listening."

Tuck held out his hand and ticked off the words on his fingers.  "Magazine – under – your – mattress."

Brad's eyes grew wide as saucers.  He slammed the black cowboy hat on his head with a scowl.  "Yer a-gonna pay fer that, Sheriff."  He grabbed his Nurf gun and got off a shot that suction-cupped directly onto the center of Tuck's giant hat, knocking it off his head to the ground.

"Ahhh!" screamed Tuck.  "Big Zeke!"

"You named your hat?!?" asked Brad.

"Well I don't have a deputy," Tuck whined.  "Don't worry, Zeke, ah'm a-gonna avenge you!!!  Yeeee-haaaawww!!!"

The two brothers ran madly around their suburban house, diving behind hedges and lawn furniture for cover while firing suction-cup darts at each other.  Brad had the upper hand, and was getting a kick out of seeing his little brother try to run while wearing those ridiculous chaps.  But Brad had a plan.  He started collecting darts as Tuck shot and missed, without firing back himself.  Soon Tuck was out of ammo, and Brad had all the darts.

A few moments later, Sheriff Tuck peeked around the corner of the house, nerves on edge.  The bad guys were a-gunnin' for him, and he was out of bullets.  He scanned the front yard for Black Brad.  No sign of him behind the planter.  He twern't behind the lawn gnomes neither.  But the Sheriff did see a big pile of suction-cup darts sitting on the lawn, just beside the hedges separating their yard from the neighbor's yard.

"Smells like-a ambush," mumbled Tuck.  But he needed ammo.  He moseyed over towards the dart pile.

He glanced around, seeing nobody.  "Sure is quiet 'round these parts," he said nervously.  He reached down a for a dart –

Black Brad popped up from the neighbor's side of the hedges.  "Prepare to meet yer maker, Sheriff!"

"Aaaaah!!!" Tuck screamed.  He grabbed two darts and jumped with all the might in his little legs, leaping through the hedges towards Brad, while feeding the gun and pumping furiously.  He rolled a few times and landed on his bottom, disoriented – but he could make out a figure looking down at him.  Pop!  Pop!  He got off two shots.

"Ha!  That'll learn ya to mess with the likes of Sheriff – " Tuck looked up and gulped.  "- Uh, oh."

A disheveled middle-aged woman with wild white hair frowned down at Tuck.  She wore a long yellow overcoat and had a clipboard tucked under her arm.  And she wore a large pair of black-rimmed glasses with very thick lenses – each one of which was covered by a suction-cup dart.

"Heh, heh," chuckled Tuck, weakly.  "Hi there, Mrs. Wakeman."

A few seconds of stony silence passed before the lady reached up and plucked the darts off of her glasses.

"Hello, Tucker.  Bradley."  Her voice could have frozen water.

"Hey there, Mrs. Wakeman."  Brad rushed over to defend his little brother.  "Ahh … heh-heh … sorry about that little mishap.  Boys will be boys, y'know."

"Yes, boys will be boys – " she planted her hands on her hips, crossly – "and robots will be robots.  Have either of you seen XJ-9?  She has not returned home from school yet.  She is late, as usual.  I have very urgent tasks for her to perform."

"What kind of tasks?" asked Brad, happy to change the subject.  "Fighting monsters and sewer mutants?"  He swung his fists in the air, dramatically.

"Sewer mutants, indeed."  Mrs. Wakeman shook her finger in Brad's direction.  "XJ-9 must help me monitor for near-space Cluster activity."

Brad eased his hands into his pockets.  "Cluster activity, huh?  Yeah, we tangled with the Cluster a little while ago.  Showed 'em who was boss."

"I was the head," said Tuck, trying to sound important.

"Really," said Mrs. Wakeman, less than impressed.  "Somehow I'm not sure I'll sleep well tonight knowing that you two are the Earth's last line of defense against a horde of robot invaders."  She tossed the two Nurf darts back at Tuck.  One landed on his nose, and the other stuck to the middle of his forehead.

Tuck struggled to pull the dart from his forehead, then stopped, and looked up with a wide-eyed grin.  "Here she comes."

A few hundred feet over their heads, Global Robotic Response Unit XJ-9, better known to her friends by her chosen name Jenny, pivoted her body in the air with the grace of a gymnast, switching from high-speed flight to smoothly drop towards the ground on twin flames from her pigtail-jets.  What a fantastic day, she thought.  I can't wait to log it all in my computer diary.  She touched down light as a feather, between her mother and two friends, rotated her pale blue pigtails to normal, and clasped her hands behind her back.

"Sorry I'm late," she blurted, a little excited.  "Hey Tuck.  Hey Brad!"  She chuckled, "Nice hat."

Brad grimaced, took off the cowboy hat, and tossed it over the hedges.  "Hey, Jen.  Where ya been all day?  I didn't see you at lunch."

"I was outside on the ball field," she started to answer.  "After school too.  You'll never guess who –"

Mrs. Wakeman held out her clipboard, frantically pointing to a group of complicated equations.  "XJ-9, there is no time for mindless jabbering.  Where have you been!?!  I have been working all day on those readings from this morning's reconnaissance.  Now, I don't have anything conclusive, but with additional data, I have the utmost confidence that it will only take a few hours to …"

Jenny cut her off, looking annoyed.  "Hello to you too, Mom.  'Why, welcome home, Jenny.  How was your day, Jenny!'"

"We don't have time for verbal thrust-and-parry, XJ-9.  We could be on the cusp of a grave crisis!"

"Mom, you think everything's a crisis.  Look!  It's a beautiful, peaceful day!"  Not even Mom is going to spoil my good mood today.

Brad smiled.  "Wow, you're sure feeling a lot better."

"Brad, today was the greatest.  I've got to tell you guys all about it."  She was aching to tell somebody. 

Mrs. Wakeman waved her arms impatiently.  "Hel-l-lo!  Still talking here!  Global catastrophe and what not!"

"What global catastrophe?" huffed Jenny.  "All the monitors are quiet.  My remote didn't go off once today."

Tuck sprung to his feet, and menacingly raised his hands above his head.  He took a few lumbering steps like an old B-movie monster.  "It's the Cluster!!!"

"The Cluster?"  That did get Jenny's attention.  Can't those creeps take NO for an answer?  The Cluster wanted to turn the universe into a paradise for robots, but their version of paradise would have every human being on Earth in chains.  And if Cluster Prime is supposed to be such a great place, they sure have to drag a lot of robots there kicking and screaming.  From the first time she met a Cluster drone, Jenny suspected that, under Cluster rule, she'd be as much a mindless slave as her human friends would be.

"Oh, no - are there Cluster robots attacking somewhere?  Have they launched an assault fleet against the Earth?  Is the Queen …"  She folded her arms across her chest.  "Wait a minute.  Is this still about that stupid space trip you made me go on before school today?"  Wow, I'd already forgotten about that.  Of course, I wanted to forget about that.  Leave it to Mom.

"I'd rather go to space than school any day," said Tuck, a little awestruck.

Brad shrugged his shoulders.  "That's what I keep saying!"

"If I may continue!!!" shouted Mrs. Wakeman, struggling for control.  Her raised voice got everybody's attention.  "Young Tucker is correct.  Analysis from this morning's reconnaissance definitely reveals Cluster radio transmissions emanating from the vicinity of near-Earth space!"

"Radio transmissions?  That's it?"  Jenny rolled her eyes.  "Geez, Mom".

"Oh, XJ-9, I do wish you would take your responsibilities more seriously.  Where there's smoke, there's fire, and where there are radio transmissions, there is bound to be a Cluster spacecraft."  Mrs. Wakeman's voice took on a more dire tone.  "And I'm afraid that's not the worst of it.  I cannot pinpoint the source of the signals, but I can tell that they were being directed towards this set of co-ordinates."  She tapped her clipboard, and circled a jumble of numbers.

"And that means what, exactly?"

"You do have a GPS navigation system.  Humor your mother."

Mom, for crying out loud.  A section of Jenny's chest slid open, and a swivel arm telescoped out, unfolding into a computer screen.  A map of the United States hummed into view, and quickly zoomed in to the co-ordinates her mother provided.

"Hey," Jenny said, "that's my high school."

"Dear, the Cluster has tried to assimilate you before, to use a tool for their evil schemes.  And there is no reason to believe they won't try it again."  Mrs. Wakeman's face grew sad.  "And if they ever succeeded, and took you away to their homeworld, I … I just don't know what I'd do."

Jenny felt her eyes get a little moist.  "Awww, Mom!"  She smiled sweetly, and put a hand on her mother's shoulder.  "Mom, don't be sad.  You don't have to worry about me."

"Yes, I do.  You're not insured, and it would take at least six months to build another robot."

Jenny groaned to herself.  So much for the tender mother-daughter moment.  Well, I'll take what I can get.

Brad and Tuck were struggling to keep up with all the science lingo.  "So, all these radio waves beaming at our school are for what, exactly?" asked Brad.  "A Cluster radio station?"

"Most certainly not.  They are most likely some form of remote control signal."

"Well Jenny doesn't seem like she's being remote controlled," offered Tuck, "and she's the only robot in school."

Oh, right!  I almost forgot!

"No, I'm not!" said Jenny excitedly.

"What are you talking about?" Brad asked with a puzzled look.

Finally!  "I met another robot at school today, guys!  It was great!  We hung out together at lunch and played baseball.  And then we played another game with some other teenagers after school.  And I invited him to come with us to the music festival downtown this Saturday afternoon.  You don't mind, do you guys?"  She was practically bouncing with excitement.

Brad was still confused.  "Huh!  You'd think I would have noticed another robot ."

Tuck chuckled, clasped his hands together over his heart, and batted his eyes.  "Ooo-o-o-ooh!  Robot love!" He made kissing noises, then stuck out his tongue.  "Bleah!"

"No, stupid!"  Jenny laughed and mussed Tuck's hair.  "But it was great just talking to him.  I helped him repair his knee, and he helped me repair my shoulder.  It's just nice to know that there's one other person at school who knows what it feels like to be made of metal."

Mrs. Wakeman was annoyed that Jenny had strayed off topic – again – but her curiosity was piqued.  "Hmmmm.  It might be interesting to contrast their engineering schematics and construction techniques ..."

The three friends let Mrs. Wakeman drift off into thought.  "Sure, Jen it's cool," said Brad.  "How'd you meet him?"

"Well," explained Jenny, "remember that boy, Drew, we met in the hallway after first period this morning?"

Brad thought for a second, then nodded.  "Oh, right!  Android!  Heh-heh.  Funny guy."

"Wow!" Tuck interrupted.  "You met an android in school today?"

"No, no," chuckled Brad, "that's just his nickname."

"Nickname?" asked Jenny.  What do you mean, nickname?

Brad continued.  "His name's Andrew.  Get it?  Drew – Andrew – Android."

Tuck scratched his head.  "His nickname is 'Android'?"

"'Cause he's got an artificial leg." Brad explained to Jenny, "Remember when he said he missed a few months of school?  He was in a car accident.  Anyway, I was talking with a guy who knows him in History class.  Says he's always cracking jokes.  He sure had everyone laughing at the Krusts this morning."

Jenny's voice quivered a bit.  "So he's … only part android?"

"Naw, he's not an android, he's just a guy with one leg.  The other one's metal, but it can't do all the cool freaky stuff yours can."

Jenny stared blankly towards the horizon.

"Always cracking jokes," she mumbled.

"Sorry about that interruption, Jen," said Brad, shooting a disapproving glance at his little brother.  "So tell us all about this other robot!"

Jenny blinked a few times.  Her cheeks started to turn red.

"Jen?"

"AAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!"

The force of Jenny's scream knocked Brad and Tuck back into the hedge.  Mrs. Wakeman cringed behind her clipboard.  Jenny leapt fifteen feet into the air, and her hands expanded into a pair of giant fists.  She flung them towards the ground in blind fury, leaving a pair of four-foot wide craters in the driveway.  The seismic wave shook everything for five city blocks.  Tears streamed from her face as she fired her pigtail-jets and blasted through the third-floor window of her bedroom.  Broken glass tinkled down onto the lawn.

Brad got to his feet, brushed off his shirttails, and walked over to put a hand on Mrs. Wakeman's shoulder.  "I can see you want to be alone with your daughter, Mrs. W – we'll be next door."  Then he grabbed Tuck by the scruff of his collar, and they both sprinted off.

A few dull, pounding thuds sounded from the general direction of Jenny's bedroom.  Pieces of plaster and siding came off of the wall of the house, fluttering to the ground.

Mrs. Wakeman groaned to herself.  "De-encrypting intergalactic radio transmissions – child's play.  Teenagers – what was I thinking?"

It was the time of year when warm days were followed by crisp, cool nights.  Drew had the window cracked open to let some fresh air into his bedroom, but it wasn't helping.  He wrestled his way out from under a mess of sweat-stained sheets, and got to his feet – one flesh, one plastic and rubber.  He usually didn't sleep with the leg on.  But he'd been so exhausted by nine o'clock that he'd collapsed on the bed in shorts and a baseball jersey, and zonked out.  Now it was, what – two in the morning?  The clock said two-seventeen.  And he was approaching that so-tired-you-can't-sleep state.  Ugh.

The first half of a rented movie had done nothing to help him forget about what he'd done to Jenny.  He still couldn't get over the fact that the first person he'd felt comfortable talking to at high school – heck, why not say it?  The first real friend – was a robot.  Or at least, when he first met her, she was "the robot".  Now she was just Jenny.  If you closed your eyes and forgot about her appearance, it was just like talking another girl.  No, that's not right.  It was like talking to a girl who understood.  Well, except she didn't understand that Drew was a total liar.  Double Ugh.

Drew staggered down the hall towards the bathroom.  He felt terrible.  He stooped over slightly, leaning his arm against the wall for support.  The stomach pains made sense – echh, Monday night was tofu night.  His arms and legs felt like jelly, but he'd played a lot of baseball today.  It was the headache that was killing him.  Maybe Dad has something in the medicine cabinet.  It felt like a blob of lava was worming its way around the inside of his head.  Feels like the flu.  Of course, his conscience told him he deserved every second of it.  I've come down with a case of Karma Flu.

Drew mixed up a couple of fizzing tablets in a glass of water and started drinking it, leaning against the sink.  He looked at his reflection in the mirror.

Hey, fella, what did you do today?

Oh, met a girl who treated me with nothing but friendship, hung out with me after school, invited me to go with her friends to the festival this weekend – and I lied to her, used her, hurt her feelings, and … lied some more.

Congratulations, you're a total scumbag!

His moist blond hair hung down in his face, not quite blocking his bloodshot eyes.  He wiped a sweaty strand away from his forehead.  How can I look so pale when I feel like I'm running a fever?  His face was almost gray.  There was a digital thermometer in one of these drawers, somewhere.  He rummaged around and found it.  He finished the headache medicine, drank another glass of water, and stuffed the thermometer under his tongue.  Then he creaked back to his bedroom.

Drew sat on his bed, his back to the wall, and let the night breeze try to cool him off.  There was only one thing to do – come clean.  Jenny deserved that.  And if she knocks my head off, well, I deserve that.  Yeesh.  She probably could actually knock – my – head – off.  No matter how he felt in the morning, he was going to school.  He needed to confess and apologize.

Making that decision seemed to lift a weight off his chest.  Gotta get some sleep.  Might as well take the leg off this time.  He tried a few times, but the mechanism wouldn't release.  In fact, the metal and plastic felt weird – a little soft and sticky to the touch, like melting taffy.  Ahh, figure it out in the morning.  He flopped over on his mattress and closed his eyes.  The burning sensation in his head had switched to a buzzing sensation, as if there were a swarm of bees vibrating their way through his bloodstream.  But now he felt it in his chest too, and up and down his arms and legs, into his hands and left foot.  He even felt it coming from his metallic leg.  Drew chortled into his soaked pillow.  Feels like getting a massage from the inside.  Must be how the medicine works.  He had forgotten all about the thermometer, which dribbled out of his mouth and fell to the carpet.  It read one hundred and forty-six degrees.

A good eight hours of sleep mode had Jenny feeling a bit better, but she was still plenty angry at Drew for lying to her.  And as bad as the lying was, that wasn't the worst of it.  For a few hours yesterday, she thought, I was not the only teenage robot at school.  I wasn't the only metal freak.  That feeling, I am not alone, had felt fantastic.  Now she knew it had all been some stupid practical joke.  Well, I hope he got a big fat laugh out of it.

It was already lunchtime, but Jenny didn't remember much of what happened to the morning.  Her heart wasn't in it today.  Other students streamed past her as she shuffled down the hall, staring at her feet.  Whine-clank.  Whine-clank.

Brad emerged from the hallway crowd and fell in step with her.  "Hey there, Jen.  Heading for the cafeteria?"

"Sure," she sighed, "why not."

"Wow, you're still bummed out about the whole Android thing."

"Yeah, a little."

"Well, a tasty meal always helps me shake off the blues."  Brad opened the cafeteria door for her.  "Unfortunately, all we have today is … Shepherd's Pie and Eggplant Surprise.  Be grateful you don't eat.  Trust me," he grinned.

Jenny harrumphed and walked in.  Well, he's trying to cheer me up.

The cafeteria was almost filled to capacity, noisy with the clatter of pots in the kitchen and the chatter of students at the tables.  The jocks were at their table, talking about next Friday's football game.  The cheerleaders had their table next to the jocks.  Brit and Tiff were at the popular table, with their popular friends, looking very exclusive.  Even the nerds had a table, covered with action figures and twenty-sided dice.  I don't suppose there's a robot table, Jenny moped to herself.  The wait for the hot meals actually wasn't too bad right now.  Brad and Jenny grabbed trays and got in line.

Brad reached into his backpack, pulled out a large can labeled Valvo-ween, and started speaking in a bad French accent.  "If there eez nothing to madame's liking, perhaps something from zee private reserve?  A little Chateaux 10-W-30?  Zee '57, she was an excellent year."

"Aww, Brad!  I was kind of thirsty."  She smiled for the first time that day.  "That's so sweet!"

"It should be, it's light sweet crude.  C'mon, Jen, I hate to see you so down.  Forget about that creep."

At least I have one real friend.  "I'll be okay, Brad."

From behind a stainless steel counter, the hair-netted lunch lady motioned towards the line of students.  "C'mon, folks.  Move along and get yer vittles."

They eventually made they way along to the lunch lady.  Jenny set the motor oil on her tray.  "Nothing for me, thanks."

Brad scratched his chin.  "So many choices … I believe I'll try the Eggplant Surprise."

"All out," grunted the lunch lady.

"Okay then, Shepherd's Pie it is."

"All out, darlin'."

"Well, what's left then?" asked Brad.

The lunch lady slopped a greasy slab of grey … something … onto a plate and shoved it towards him.  "Liver an' pig snout.  Government surplus."

Brad stared at the grease pooling around the meat, then looked at Jenny's motor oil.  He looked up at Jenny.  "Wanna swap?"

The students behind Jenny overheard the conversation, and moans of disgust filled the line.  "What happened to all the food?!?" somebody shouted.

"Don't blame me, sugar," answered the lunch lady.  "You shoulda got here before that fella."

She pointed with a greasy ladle towards a table about thirty feet away.  Brad and Jenny looked over and saw three students staring in amazement at a blond guy surrounded by empty plates.  He was eating a fantastic amount of food, and was shoveling it into his mouth with two forks.  He was just now finishing off the last of the eggplant.  He sat back and clutched his stomach, as if in pain, looking almost exhausted from the effort.  It was Drew.

Jenny's eyes narrowed to angry slits.  She picked up her tray and walked towards Drew's table.

Brad tried to say something, but she was already halfway there.  He paid for his lunch and rushed over to the table.  He wanted to provide a little moral support.

Jenny stomped up to the table, directly in front of Drew, with a disgusted look on her face.

Drew was breathing heavily.  "So hungry …" he muttered to himself, then finally noticed somebody standing in front of him and – oh, no.

"So, androids don't eat,  huh?"

"J-Jenny!" Drew blurted, and winced.  He shrunk down into his chair.  Jenny planted her fists on her hips with a loud clank and glared at him.  She was furious.

"Jenny, I've got to tell you something," Drew managed to say.

"Save it, you big liar."

Drew gulped.  "Look, you're right.  I – I lied to you yesterday when I told you I was an android."

"Really?  Imagine that."

"And I'm sorry.  It was a lousy thing for me to do …"

"It was a really lousy thing to do, Drew.  Well, I suppose you're pretty proud of yourself.  I honestly did think that you were an android.  The 'broken screw' in your leg was a nice touch.  You sure made the robot look like a big dope."

"No!  That's not what I –"

Jenny kept going.  "And all that talk about salt water and rusting and metal detectors.  Wow, you really had me going!  But I guess it was all just a big fat bunch of lies.  Well, it looks like the joke's on me, Drew.  Ha, ha.  Congratulations.  I hope it was worth it."

Drew was reeling.  "Jenny, let me explain –"

"You really hurt my feelings, you big phony."

"But –"

Jenny stuck out her arm, turned her head and closed her eyes.  Her hand expanded and unfolded until it was three feet across.

"Talk to the hand, 'cause the robot's not listening," she said.

Drew sighed heavily, and started quietly collecting his dirty dishes and utensils, his hands shaking.  There had to be fifteen empty plates alone.  He built a pile on his tray and got up to leave the table.  By then, about a dozen students were closely watching the little drama unfold, buzzing with hushed whispers.  Jenny sat down with her motor oil and opened the can, still not looking at Drew.  Brad sat next to her with his lunch.

"It wasn't all lies, Jenny," Drew said weakly, and shuffled away with his tray.

Jenny didn't answer, but simply took a small sip of her oil.  The table was silent for a few moments.

Brad finally spoke.  "Wow, Jen.  I was a little worried you were going to zap him with a laser or something.  But I think a laser might have been more humane."

Jenny shot him a nasty look.  "And just what's that supposed to mean?  Whose side are you on, anyway?"

Brad waved his hands defensively.  "I'm not on anyone's side!  No – I mean, your side!  I'm on your side!  I'm just saying, it seemed like he was trying to apologize."

Jenny's shoulders slumped.  Great, now I'm snapping at Brad.  And Drew did say he was sorry … I thought I'd feel a lot better than this after telling him off.  She sighed.  "Let's just finish lunch and forget the whole thing."

And that seemed like the right thing to do, so Brad turned his attention back to his "meal", trying to decide if he was in a gambling mood.  But he found himself watching Drew slink away instead.  He couldn't get over how bad Drew looked – like he hadn't slept in a week.  His skin was a strange pale color.  And he moved slowly, gritting his teeth, as if every joint in his body was on fire.

He certainly didn't feel sorry for him – the guy had pranked his best friend, in a particularly cruel way.  But Drew sure wasn't enjoying his joke.  It didn't make a lot of sense.  Brad poked a piece of liver with his fork.  He ate fifteen plates of this stuff?  Who's that hungry?  He shook up a bottle of ketchup, and started pouring it on his liver as he watched Drew walk towards the conveyor belt that carried dirty dishes back to the kitchen.

Drew stopped short and set his tray down.  One of the dishes still had some eggplant on it, and he was still very – very – hungry.  He'd never felt this hungry before in his life.  He scraped up the leftovers with a fork, ate it, and licked the fork.  Then he licked the fork again.

Then he swallowed it.

Brad froze.  What the - ?

It must have been good, because Drew swallowed his knife and spoon.  The he experimentally raised a dish to his face, licked it a couple of times, and –

Crunch.

A pool of ketchup was building up on Brad's liver, as he stared at Drew in amazement.

A few more quick bites, and Drew had eaten a dinner plate.  Then a second.  And a third.  Then he stopped and clutched his hands to his head, as if struck by a painful headache.

Jenny finally noticed that Brad was now holding an empty bottle over a puddle of ketchup, staring off at something.  And by now, the tables in this corner of the cafeteria had noticed it too. She turned around to see what everybody was staring at.

Drew was grabbing spoons, forks, knives and plates off of the dirty cafeteria trays, and ramming them into his mouth like popcorn.

Brad finally snapped out of it.  "Umm – what's wrong with this picture?"

Jenny raised an eyebrow with a whirr.  So what kind of a stunt is this?

A student in a varsity jacket walked up to Drew and tapped him on the shoulder.  "Dude.  Dude!  You OK, man?"

Drew grabbed his head again, as if having a seizure.  Then he stopped, perfectly calm, and turned around.

The whites of his eyes were replaced with a soft, phosphorescent green.

"Remote link activated," Drew said in a voice that had dropped about two octaves.  "Performing systems check.  Welcome to Android OS 2000."

"Uh – dude?"

Drew kept speaking.  "To continue in English, press one.  Para continuar en Espanol …"

"Dude, you're messed up."

Back at their table, Brad shot a glance at Jenny.  "Okay.  This is different."

"This is pathetic," answered Jenny, rolling her eyes.  "Like this is supposed to convince anybody he's an android?"

The varsity-jacket student slowly backed away from Drew, a little creeped out.  Drew stared at nothing in particular and kept talking out loud to himself.

"System Error Fifty-two.  Insufficient resources."

Drew walked, with a slow, methodical pace, back to the serving counter.  Moose and Ox, the massive seniors from the rugby team who had regularly tormented him, were getting their lunches.  He pushed a stunned Moose aside with one arm, cutting to the front of the line.  The lunch lady was refilling a steam tray with surplus pig snouts.  "You back for more?  Don't know where you're puttin' it, darlin'."  She started filling another plate.

"Hey, Android, get your butt to the back of the line," growled Moose.

Drew lunged forward, and took a bite out of the stainless-steel countertop.

Gasps, and a few shouts, came from the students in line as Drew started ripping the steel countertop to shreds with his teeth.  The lunch lady ran for the kitchen.  Moose grabbed Drew by the shoulder and hauled him away from the counter.  "You asked for it, freak.  I am gonna enjoy this."  He hauled his arm back and threw a vicious blow to Drew's chin.

Clang.

Moose danced around in pain, his knuckles turned to mush.  Ox, coming to his buddy's rescue, moved to grab Drew by the shoulders.  With an emotionless green-eyed stare, Drew shot out his arm and grabbed Ox by the collar.  Drew flung the senior straight up into the air, with amazing ease, driving him head-first into the overhead tiles, like a dart.  His legs dangled out from the hole in the ceiling.

"Whoa," said Brad.

Jenny closed her eyes and took another sip of oil.  "Faker."

Now the noise level in the cafeteria was rising, and the crowd was getting a little antsy.  Everybody was staring at the show by the serving counter.  A few students left their tables, sensing trouble was on the way.  Drew walked over to the first table and swung his arm over his head, bringing a first down into the middle of the fifteen-foot long section.  It smashed in half like a popsicle stick.  Drew pulled off one of the metal legs, as if pulling the drumstick off a turkey.  But he didn't bite it.

Drew held the table leg in his fist, and his hand …  changed color.  Pale skin turned to a shiny, shimmering silver, and his hand seemed to lose form and … flow.  Thin silver tendrils snaked their way up and down the table leg, until the whole thing was a pulsating silver cylinder, laced with veins of green.  Then the silvery-green mass flowed back into Drew's hand, up into his arm, with a sound somewhere between a whine and a slurp.  Drew absorbed the other three table legs in similar fashion.  The solid metal seemed to melt into silvery ooze, and flow into Drew's body.

The piece of liver Brad was chewing on fell out of his open mouth.  "Uhhhh … Jen?"

Jenny wasn't paying attention.  "Just ignore him."

A few screams rang through the cafeteria, and students were starting to head for the exits.  Drew scanned the room and found what he was looking for.  He slowly, methodically, walked over to a large refrigeration unit that served sodas, milk and desserts.  It weighed well over a ton.  Drew slid it away from the wall, easily, with one hand.  He was looking for the wall socket.  The unit used a lot of electricity, and was plugged into a special outlet for heavy electrical loads.

Drew punched his arm through the wall, and grabbed the heavy gauge wire inside.  A searing bolt of electricity rushed out and screamed into Drew's body.  Tongues of electricity danced all around him, and his eyes glowed a brilliant green.  The lights in the cafeteria, and the entire school, went out, along with the rest of the power.  Drew was absorbing it all.  In fact, he was reaching outside the school and draining electricity from the city's power grid.  City blocks surrounding the high school started going dark.  Power transformers exploded like fireworks.

Now the panic started, as flickering electrical arcs lit up the cafeteria with an otherworldly light.  Students screamed and pushed each other, stampeding out of the cafeteria.  Jenny and Brad were the only ones left sitting at their table, and Brad was starting to have second thoughts.  Jenny calmly worked on her nails with a rotary grinder.

Brad watched, spellbound, as Drew punched his arm into side of the big refrigerator, as if it were a cardboard box.  His arm transformed into a silver-green mass … schlorrrrp … and two dozen little silver fingers oozed out to envelop the metal panel.  An audible hum-whine seemed to emanate from him as half the refrigerator turned to silvery molasses and flowed into his arm.

Brad tapped Jenny's shoulder.  "Uhhh … Jen?!?"

Jenny threw her arms up with a huff.  "Oh, for Pete's sake.  Knock it off, Drew.  It's not funny."  She got up and walked towards Drew, clanking her feet in frustration.

Drew turned to face her, with an empty expression on his face.  "Startup sequence complete," he said in a monotone voice.  His head seemed to briefly shimmer like a gelatin mold.  With a slurping, bubbling sound, it turned into a shiny silver blob, running with angular patterns of faintly glowing green.  The shimmering-gelatin effect spread down his neck, split out to each arm and hand, continued through his chest and down both legs to his feet. 

A six-foot tall silver-green humanoid figure stood in front of Jenny now.  It was smooth and seamless, with a wedge-shaped head and glowing green orbs for eyes.  A few thin green lines ran along its surface, like printed circuits, though they seemed to ebb and flow as if they were floating in thick liquid.  The green eyes narrowed into angry slits and glowed menacingly.

Jenny tapped her chin.  "Okay, Drew, I'll admit, that's pretty impressive, but …"

Two silver arms shot out and coiled around Jenny's shoulders like tentacles.  Before she could react, the silvery-green figure lifted her into the air.  Twisting its body, it used its now fifteen-foot-long arms like a slingshot, and flung the robot girl towards the wall of the cafeteria.

Jenny plowed through the wall in an explosion of dust and plaster, shot out into the hallway, through two sets of lockers,  and through another wall, into the music room on the other side.  Stunned students dove for cover as her steel-and-blue form blasted into the classroom.  She ground to a halt, her metal body tearing up the wooden floor and sending instruments flying.  Jenny came to rest against a set of drums, covered in dust, wallboard, and a few shards of wood.

She wasn't hurt in the slightest.  But she was stunned.

Brad sprinted into the room, a hint of panic in his eyes.  "Jenny!  Jenny, are you all right?"

She brushed a few pieces of debris off of her face.  "Yeah, sure … but … how?"

They looked back through the series of holes in classroom walls and mangled lockers, directly into the cafeteria.  Drew was absorbing the rest of the steel from the lunch counter into his mottled silver torso.  And he was growing visibly taller – he was at least eight feet tall, now.  His head panned from side to side, with a face devoid of any features save for those green eyes.

Brad knelt down and picked off a piece of wall that had stuck onto one of Jenny's pigtails.

"Ummm, Jen?  If he's faking it … he's doing a really good job."

Continued in Chapter Four