Chapter 07

When we arrived at the hot dog stand, Marcie was already there cleaning up some of the wieners that her automatic hot dog maker had been shooting out a few hours before. She stood and looked back and forth between the two of us before finally alighting on me. "Velma, you look terrible." She then turned her gaze to Daphne. "And Daphne, you look… not as bad as Velma."

Daphne shrugged. "Mystery solving and high fashion don't always go hand in hand." It was a good line. I wish I had thought of it.

Marcie didn't seem to understand Daphne's statement. "What happened?"

I looked at her. "I think you probably have a pretty good guess."

"I do?"

"What department was your father in when he was a professor?"

"You know that. I've told you."

I went to my old standard. "It's a process."

"Mechanical Engineering."

"What have we been chasing around the park?"

Marcie seemed to clamp her mouth shut. She looked at Daphne and then back to me. "I'm sorry."

Daphne now knew I was onto something and repeated my question. "What have we been chasing around the park?"

"My father's robot."

I followed up. "Tell us about your father's robot."

"I'm not supposed to."

Daphne reverted to her former self. "Look at my hair." Marcie couldn't bring herself to look up. Daphne repeated more firmly. "Look at my hair!"

Marcie finally looked up. "I'm sorry."

"Your father's robot did this to me." Daphne pressed. "Tell us about it."

"The patent isn't finalized and if information about it is shared too freely, he could lose his rights."

"My family's attorneys could crush those rights." This was the Daphne that Marcie was expecting. "But neither I nor Velma could care less about his patent. We just want to know what did this to me." Daphne seemed to have forgotten the part where I looked worse than she did. Or maybe she just expected that I should look worse than she did. Which was pretty much true.

Marcie relented and began talking. "Seven years ago, the state raised the minimum wage, and-at the same time-the federal government cracked down on undocumented foreign workers…"

"Illegal aliens." Daphne interjected.

"Uh right. Them. Between those two actions, the cost of labor rose dramatically for the types of workers that performed all of the basic tasks to keep the park operating. The former owners tried raising ticket and refreshment prices but then people stopped coming. Five years ago, the amusement park was forced to close down. My dad believed that the park could be made profitable again if labor costs could be decreased. So, he invented a prototype robot that could perform the work of about four to six healthy men. Once he works out the bugs and gets the patent, he will construct enough to run the park. Once the park is up and running, he will be able to market the robots based on the success of the park. He believes that the robots will make us rich."

"So, his childhood dream of running an amusement park is just a ruse?" I asked.

"No, that's true. He wants to run the park and be a millionaire."

"What bugs still need to be worked out in the robot?"

"You've seen it. Sometimes it works perfectly and at high speed and other times its slow and clumsy and messes everything up…"

"His name is Charley." We all jumped as Mr. Fleach walked up carrying a handheld remote. "And he's the world's most efficient robot. Or at least he will be when he can be more reliable. This inconsistency issue is troubling. I can't seem to pinpoint the problem. It shouldn't be happening!"

My mind started working the problem. "It has to be a software issue."

Mr. Fleach shrugged. "That is the most logical line of enquiry, but all of the software tests passed easily and even the in-lab prototype testing went fine. It wasn't until we started field testing that the anomalies presented."

Marcie added, "His body is a NEMA 4 enclosure and, the last time we caught him, we checked and there were no leaks or signs of humidity or moisture and all of his terminations were tight and wired correctly."

"When was the last time that you caught him?"

"It was two days ago, on Saturday. The glitches started on Friday." The former professor seemed lost in thought.

"How long had he been running before the problems started?"

"Six days. We turned him on full last Saturday."

I did some mental math. "He doesn't seem large enough to hold a battery that could last two days."

"He's not. He needs to recharge every twelve hours. The fact that he has found a way to recharge without returning to his charging station is the strangest thing in all this."

Daphne suddenly spoke, "Is he an AI? Could he have taught himself how to recharge?"

Marcie rolled her eyes. Daphne saw Marcie roll her eyes. Something bad was about to happen when Mr. Fleach's teacher training kicked in. "That's a thought, Ms. Blake, but he wasn't built as an AI and finding an alternate charging source or constructing an alternate charging station for himself would be pushing it even for the best AI. I wrote the code, and I just don't think it's possible."

Daphne's shoulders, which had risen in response to Marcie's unspoken insult, settled back down. But she didn't ask any more technical questions.

Mr. Fleach was on a roll now. "And the amount of wiring he is doing to bring large parts of the park online without having permanent power from the electrical company is inconceivable. He's operating well outside of parameters and completely out of control."

Daphne proved that the water was not yet completely under the bridge. "While these few minutes of nerdspeak have been scintillating, what are you science-types going to do about it?"

As sarcastic as the wording was, the question was the right one. What was the solution? How did we catch this thing?

I started the ball rolling. "What is the primary material of his outer shell?"

Marcie knew exactly what I was asking. "304 Stainless Steel. Non-magnetic."

That ruled out using a big electromagnet. It didn't rule it out enough that, a year later. the dimwits at the network didn't go that route when we needed an alternative ending for the show.

We were stumped.

Daphne looked at each of us in turn. Then she pulled out her phone and dialed. "Freddy? I imagine that what you're working on is a trap? I thought so. When will it be ready? Excellent. We'll be right over." She hung up and looked at us. "Fred's finishing up a trap. We'll catch this thing the old-fashioned way. Without nerds."

Mr. Fleach tilted his head. "A trap? What kind of trap? You would need an 8-inch-thick reinforced concrete wall to hold Charley. His arms are powerful hydraulic pistons. He'll punch through anything that keeps him from doing his programmed assignment within seconds. Anything your boyfriend built in the last couple of hours won't hold him."

It was back to science. My turn. "How is his EM shielding? Could we maybe do something to his electrical system?"

"No. I asked my wife about that, and she didn't think so."

"Your wife?" I asked.

"Yes. She has a master's degree in electrical engineering. She just never practiced since we had Marcie when we were young."

Daphne and I looked at each other and then Daphne spoke. "Fred's trap will work.