Chapter 10 · Continued
Back to the Factory
Chris wandered into the kitchen, still half asleep, and stopped when he saw the full pot waiting on the counter.
“Well, damn. Thanks, buddy.”
Cam stood calmly near the table, his damaged chest panel temporarily secured in place.
“I estimated your approximate waking time and concluded that you would want this beverage.”
Chris poured himself a cup. “You estimated correctly.”
He glanced into the living room.
Tools still covered part of the floor. Chester sat motionless beside the couch while Seymour remained proudly perched on top of him like a king on a tiny yellow throne.
Jane walked in behind Chris and laughed. “I think Seymour has claimed Chester as personal furniture.”
“I think so too.”
Chris grinned, then grew more thoughtful as he looked toward the little delivery bot.
“We should figure out how to get Moo Mart’s robot back home.”
Jane leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee. “Do you think you can fix him?”
“Probably. I should be able to straighten the damaged wheel assembly and reset his navigation system, but his range may remain limited. We might have to get him closer to the store before he can reconnect.”
Chris looked toward Cam. “You may be able to help me diagnose him.”
Cam turned his attention toward Chester. “Yes. I can analyze the unit’s remaining systems if connected to its service interface.”
Chester suddenly chirped beneath Seymour.
“MOO MART WELCOMES YOU TO BREAKFAST.”
Chris closed his eyes briefly. “I swear this thing talks more than both of you combined.”
He carried his toolbox into the living room while Jane cleared the coffee cups from the table.
Morning light filtered through the curtains. Everything looked less dramatic in daylight.
Somehow, that made it stranger.
A damaged yogurt-delivery robot sat beside the couch. An advanced corporate prototype stood nearby holding a screwdriver. Seymour remained sprawled across Chester’s top panel as though he personally owned eighty percent of Moo Mart.
Chris pointed at the cat. “You are not helping productivity.”
Seymour blinked once.
He did not move.
Cam crouched beside Chester while Chris dragged an extension cord across the carpet.
“You said you can connect directly to him?” Chris asked.
“Yes.”
“How?”
A narrow panel in Cam’s wrist opened with a soft click. A thin black service connector extended from beneath it.
Jane stared. “You had a cable in your wrist this whole time?”
“It is an auxiliary diagnostic interface,” Cam explained.
“That sentence does not make it less strange.”
Chris grinned. “Trust me. This is considerably less unsettling than some of the military hardware I’ve worked on.”