Cats vs. Robots, Volume 1 Page 3

  Taking one last look, Joan turned and spluttered back home to recharge.

  5

  Max Makes a Discovery

  Max walked slowly along River Road, in no hurry to get home. He liked to walk home sometimes, especially when he needed to think.

  And today, Max needed to think.

  About his favorite subject.

  Games.

  And his favorite game right now was INSECTAGONS™!

  Max loved games, but more than that, he loved to think about games. He wanted to build his own games someday and was always coming up with crazy ideas for missions and levels. His latest project was a level he was designing for INSECTAGONS™.

  He had been working on it for weeks with his online friends, coming up with the art (especially lighting!), the enemy design (example: TrashMantis, sort of a praying mantis, but formed out of scrap metal), and even the big boss fight (TrashMantis regenerates by destroying and absorbing buildings around it!). It was going to be awesome.

  His team (Team EZ) was submitting the level to an online Game Jam contest. If they won, their level would be included—no joke—as an ACTUAL level in a REAL INSECTAGONS™ game. Max was the team leader. He even talked his math teacher (who was also a gamer) into giving him extra credit if they did well. Which he might actually need if he wanted to pass the class.

  They had submitted levels before, but this time felt different. Who knows? For once, Max thought they had a real shot at winning.

  A lot was riding on Max’s level being great. Even more than glory among his friends and a passing grade, Max thought it would help him get some respect at home instead of his sister hogging the spotlight.

  Perfect Min, Max thought. Always finishing her homework, getting good grades, helping Mom and Dad in the lab. So what if Max kept leaving his books at school? So what if he couldn’t solder or build “real” things? He was good at this!

  Max stopped. A strange noise echoed from the river, a sort of high-pitched yowling noise, almost like a baby crying, but not quite. Creepy and sad at the same time.

  Whatever it was, Max had learned a lot about sound design in researching games, and this was the sound of . . . trouble.

  Max ran across the road to the official Bayside County chain-link fence, the one with the Peligro/Danger signs. Ignoring the warning, he squeezed through a hole in the fence and slid down the bushy, mud-over-concrete banks of the river to see what was going on.

  He had to be careful, because for once in his life, there was actually water in the LA River. Thank you, global warming. Oh wait, I mean no thanks . . .

  Max saw a part of a dead tree branch twitching next to the shallow stream of greenish-bluish water.

  Something’s there!

  Max suddenly felt nervous. His heart pounded.

  “Are you okay?!” Max shouted. No response.

  I should just leave. Now. This is the part of the movie when all the trouble starts . . .

  The part when you know the whole thing could have been avoided if the kid just left.

  But Max’s feet wouldn’t budge. He was too worried about whatever or whoever was out there.

  Because this is real. It’s not a game. It’s . . . a life.

  It could be some drowning kid right now. Or a lost dog. Or a confused old lady?

  Like Mrs. Reynolds, from next door . . .

  Or it could be something else . . . something dangerous!

  Max stared at the dead bush, getting more nervous as he thought about it. He shouted again. “Is anyone there?!”

  The bush stopped wiggling. Then—SPLASH!

  Max looked around. There were no grown-ups in sight, which was either a really bad thing, because he was about to be attacked by a monster with a baby voice, or a good thing, because at least Max wouldn’t get in trouble if he went closer to the water.

  He had to do something. So Max went closer, and stopped cold when he saw—

  “KITTENS?!”

  Two tiny furry, bedraggled heads looked up at him. One kitten was chubby, striped gray, and soft-looking. The other was scrawny and spotty and slick-looking.

  “You’re just . . . little baby kittens?”

  As Max looked into their tiny helpless eyes, he felt something strange. He didn’t quite know how to explain it . . . this accidentally good feeling. Somehow, without even asking, Max’s heart and even his guts decided that they were connected to these kittens. He knew that if something hurt them, he’d feel it too. And if they were in trouble, he had to help.

  The pudgy gray kitten was squirming in the shallow muck, looking like a sort of kitten stew. Stu, he named the kitten instantly (Max was good at naming things). Stu was desperately clawing at a long fallen branch, trying to get back out of the water—but every time the bedraggled Stu almost climbed free, it ended up falling back on itself. The scrawny little spotty kitten was pacing, scouting for a way to get to the other one (Scout, Max decided instinctively). Scout was scratching and howling and clawing at the branch to help—but all that fussing only made Scout lose balance and splash halfway into the water too.

  Stu and Scout.

  Max made up his mind. “Hold on!”

  6

  Max to the Rescue

  The two kittens were in various states of wet and wetter and trying not to drown as Max scrambled down the concrete riverbank to the edge of the water.

  Scout froze—eyes fixed on Max—ears up, on alert. Stu, the gray, was too busy splashing and hissing and trying not to drown to care.

  “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m not a bad guy.” Max balanced first on a rock, then on a length of fallen tree trunk, close enough to reach Stu. “I’m a good guy. I’m gonna rescue you. That’s what the good guys do. Just hold on.” Max reached for Stu’s wet gray kitten pelt and lunged.

  There was screeching. There was clawing. There was splashing. There was gouging . . . but in the end, Max emerged from the river with Stu in his arms.

  Scout backed away from the commotion in a panic . . . scrabbling paws backward across the muddy concrete . . . then diving back into the bushes.

  Max carefully wrapped the sopping gray creature in the sweatshirt tied around his waist. “You’re just a little guy, aren’t you?”

  The trembling gray pile of wet fur didn’t answer. It shook in Max’s arms—but remained otherwise spookily still. The poor little guy was terrified.

  “You’re shivering. I can feel your ribs. You need someone to take care of you.” Max eyed the tiny spotty cat, peeking out beneath a bush. “Both of you.”

  Max thought about it, then slowly lowered the gray kitten to the rocky, marshy ground beneath them. “Okay, Stu . . .”

  The kitten squirmed free and streaked into the bushes, diving into the shadows behind its spotty friend.

  Max carefully squatted down to look at them. “You know, you two can come with me if you want. My house isn’t very far from here.”

  The kittens peeped out at him from the shadows, wary.

  Max thought for a moment, then started untying his shoelaces, wiggling and flopping them as he did.

  The kittens stared. Scout bravely crept forward on tiny paws. Stu cautiously backed away into the deeper shadows beneath the bush. Neither one moved their eyes from the shoelaces as he slowly stood up.

  “Okay, how about I just walk over here, and if you want to come with me, no problem.” As Max spoke, he gave his untied shoelaces an enticing kick.

  The kittens were hypnotized.

  Max smiled to himself. He had spent enough time with Obi, the cat next door, to pick up a thing or two about cats. Cats can’t resist a dangling, squiggling string.

  Max picked up his backpack and began to walk back to the fence, as slowly as a person could go and still technically be moving. His untied shoelaces flapped and dragged as he went.

  Stu and Scout took careful steps forward on wet, wobbly legs, keeping the laces in sight.

  By the time Max stepped through the fence, the kittens had followe
d him through, pouncing and clawing at his shoes with every few steps. The kittens had forgotten to be scared. They were too busy playing catch-the-dirty-shoelace.

  And Max? He was too excited from the rescue to think about what he would do with them when he got home.

  Max had long dreamed of having a kitten. He asked his parents at least twice a year, but the answer was always no. His parents didn’t hate cats, but whenever he asked, Mom and Dad would look at the Protos, the robotics lab, and all the sensitive equipment in the house, shaking their heads. “Sorry, Max, it’s just not a good idea.”

  Min, on the other hand, definitely didn’t like cats. Her response was much more direct. “This is a robot house, Max. You want cats, go join a veterinarian family.”

  Ouch.

  In the Wengrod house, Team Robot beat Team Cat, every time. But this time had to be different! Right? These guys were adorable!

  The kittens kept pouncing, and Max kept walking, and all three had so much fun that they didn’t notice when a certain vehicle drove up behind them. As it whooshed past and hummed away, Max looked up just in time to see CAR driving by, his sister’s frowning face in the window. His heart dropped.

  Busted.

  7

  Min Plots Bots During Carpool

  Min had mastered the art of writing neatly on her lap in a moving vehicle at a young age, which was a good thing, because so much of Min’s time was spent in CAR, her parent’s makeshift prototype self-driving automobile. (CAR? Computerized Automotive Responder.)

  Her mom and dad worked together as a team of inventors. They were each other’s perfect partners. Dad designed and Mom built. Creative and practical. Dad had impossible ideas and Mom, somehow, made the impossible possible. Well, at least that was the idea.

  Take CAR, for example.

  CAR started as the family’s beat-up minivan but was heavily modified to be a fully autonomous vehicle. Dad had a lot of ideas on how to make CAR safe (safety first!), which required Mom to build a car that always avoided fast roads, complicated stoplights, and busy streets.

  Despite CAR’s modest (okay, junky) appearance, by the time Mom was through adding Dad’s 900,000 modifications, CAR was safer than any other form of transportation. CAR always got wherever it was meant to be going safely. The downside was it almost never got there quickly.

  CAR always arrived, it just sometimes took forever.

  Truthfully, Max and Min hadn’t been on time to school once in almost three years now. As a result, Min had learned to make good use of her time inside CAR. Generally, 100 percent of her homework had been completed in CAR, which gradually became more like a moving office than a standard form of transportation.

  Mini fridge? Look in the way back. Printer? Check the rear, accessed through the backseat. Pencil sharpener? Try the glove compartment. Thanks, Mom and Dad . . .

  Min sharpened her pencil and checked her calculations on the blueprints for her latest robot design. Once she was convinced everything was perfectly correct, she slid the document back into its neatly labeled folder.

  Sure, there were a few things to work out on the design side, but the mechanics were beautiful, practically perfect. Min’s robot was going to crush the competition at the Bayside Battle of the Bots this year—which, in Min’s opinion, was the only competition worth winning.

  Last year’s winner won a trip to NASA to see the robots for the new Mars mission! This year, the winner would get to go for an entire SUMMER to work with the Mars team. Who knows, she might even get to drive the Mars Rover!

  Min was a full-on NASA fan-girl. Her dream was to someday be the head of the Mars Exploration Program, so she was determined to win.

  Even if her parents were going to miss the whole thing . . . because they (super annoyingly!) . . . had dropped everything (including their children!) . . . and gotten on a plane to China (just like that!) . . . because of their top secret project (why is it secret from me??) . . . to go fix whatever was wrong (I could have helped if it wasn’t secret!).

  Still.

  Min was going to win the Battle of the Bots and someday be in charge of NASA, and her parents were going to be proud. Min was determined of that, and when Min was determined about a thing, it usually happened. To the women of the Wengrod family, there was no such thing as impossible. If it seems impossible, Mom liked to say, it’s just not finished yet.

  So she worked hard, and then harder (unlike her lazy brother, Max). Her homework was never late (even if her brother’s always was). She always checked her work—twice (even if her brother didn’t even check once). She had been promoted to pre-algebra (her brother was in regular math). In her spare time . . . well, there wasn’t any.

  Which sometimes bothered her, especially when her brother’s whole life seemed to be made up of nothing but spare time. All he did was mess around with video games. He never did anything important. Think up things? Draw characters? Design levels? Play games? She loved her brother, but by her own standards, he was kind of a . . .

  Don’t say it. That’s so mean . . .

  But at least you’re not saying it out loud?

  And it’s not like you can stop a person from thinking it . . .

  L-O-S-E-R.

  Just as she thought the word, Min looked out the window as CAR curved down River Road. She saw Max walking home alone, just as he had insisted (weirdo!)—but now she could see he wasn’t alone at all.

  He was being followed by . . . what? Min narrowed her eyes.

  Are those . . . cats?

  Min rolled down the window and stuck her head out for a better look. It was true.

  CATS.

  Why is Max walking home from school with two cats?

  8

  Min Un-Saves the Day

  “Home again, home again, jiggity-jig,” CAR announced as the doors unlocked themselves . . . “TA-DA! Safe and sound,” CAR lilted as the rear passenger door opened with a flourish.

  Min rolled her eyes. That door just opened quicker than CAR drives. “Yeah, thanks, CAR.” The Wengrods were always polite to CAR, no matter how late they arrived. Dr. Wengrod—Mom—always said good manners meant it was important to be kind to everyone, even machines. Even the slow ones, Min thought with a sigh.

  If she complained too much, the other Dr. Wengrod—Dad—would point out that you never knew when a robot revolution was coming. “Better safe than sorry, Min!”

  Thinking of her dad and his crazy advice made Min miss him and her mom—which then made her worry about them being so far away—so by the time she hopped out of CAR, she was already grouchy. She tossed her backpack over the gate, yanking it forcefully with both hands. (You had to toss your backpack over first, or you’d never be able to wrench open the rusting metal gate.)

  GROOOOOAAAAAAN!

  “Quiet, Min!” Max looked up at her from where he was lying on the lawn. Max had beaten her home, which put Min in an even crankier mood.

  “Stupid slowmobile,” she muttered.

  “Shhh!” Max hissed.

  Ignoring her brother, Min smirked and swung the gate shut . . . hard.

  SLAAAAAAAAAAMMM!

  “Min! You’ll scare them,” Max said, sounding strange.

  “Scare wh—?” Min started to ask, but she stopped speaking when she saw what Max was pointing at.

  KITTENS!

  The ones from the road.

  In their yard.

  They were hiding behind an overturned flower box that had been sitting next to the front steps since their dad had replanted the backyard vegetable garden for a water-recycling experiment last February. (Their whole garden had died. “Hypothesis proven,” her dad had joked. “Conclusion: I should never be allowed to take care of the garden.”)

  Min could only see part of one spotted tail poking out . . . until an even fluffier gray tail joined it, waving frantically back and forth.

  “Are you crazy?” Min looked from the little waggling tails to the little whining brother. “No. Don’t answer that. Not until Mom and Da
d get back.”

  “I’m not crazy,” Max said, defensive.

  “Then what are you doing . . . with these things . . . and, follow-up question, why are you doing it?” Min watched as first the twin tails became entangled, then four tiny paws began to bat at each other. Now two furry heads were knocking as they scrabbled behind the planter box.

  Siblings, she thought. Definitely siblings.

  “I didn’t have any choice! I heard them at the river,” Max said. “Stu here must have fallen in. He was stuck on a branch in the water. And Scout—that’s the littler one—was trying to save him. They could have drowned!”

  “You named them?” Min shook her head. “After knowing them for what, twenty minutes?”

  “More like fifteen,” Max muttered quietly. “And what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just leave them there.”

  “Uh, yeah, you could! Aren’t you supposed to leave wild animals in the wild? Isn’t that, like, a government rule or something?”

  Max shot back, “Aren’t you supposed to be nice to people? Isn’t that, like, a golden rule or something?”

  “This is different, Max. These aren’t people. I mean, what if they have rabies?” Min frowned. “Do cats get rabies? Or what if they have, like, mad cow disease or bird flu? Is there a cat flu?” Min was not a fan of rabies, or infectious diseases in general.

  “Max, Min?” A voice crackled as House’s front-door monitor flickered to life, interrupting their argument. “You’re home! Good. Why aren’t you coming in? I ordered pizza! Cy set the table in the kitchen for you. What’s this . . . dialogue . . . about?”

  “NOTHING!” Max jumped in, glaring at Min with his finger to his lips.

  “Nothing?” House paused. “Sounds like something. How was your day?”

  “It was great,” Min said.

  “Awesome!” Max said, a bit too enthusiastically.

  The logo on House’s screen spun as it processed the conversation. “Your voices sound—different. Why have your inflections shifted?” House scanned the twins using the sensors in his monitor.