could be just the thing.
“Give me a minute,” he said.
He ran to the robot.
“It weighs hundreds of tons,” Cora called out. “What are you going to do, put it in your backpack?”
She’d flip if she knew I could really carry it, Astro thought. He examined the bot. The robot’s body was big and barrel-shaped—you could fit a small family inside it. Astro scooted behind some overgrown weeds, making sure the others couldn’t see him. Then he peeled back a steel plate and stepped inside.
The robots circuits were covered in cobwebs, but everything looked like it was in place. Astro spotted a nameplate and wiped the dust from it. It read, “Z.O.G. Built to Last.”
“Zog,” Astro said out loud. “Hello, Zog.”
Astro’s eyes glowed, and he scanned the dusty circuits. He quickly located the power source—a dead battery.
“I know you’re not dead. You’re just pretending,” Astro told him.
He took a deep breath and focused a beam of Blue Core energy on the battery. Nothing happened.
“Come on, big guy. Time to wake up,” Astro urged.
Astro tried harder. The beam got brighter.
“Zog, let me help you ... come on.”
Slowly, the circuits began to crackle, coming to life. A blue light flickered across the control panel. Astro quickly jumped out of the robot’s body.
The ground rumbled as the robot awoke from his hundred-year sleep.
Zog was alive!
Back at the junkyard, Hamegg was testing one of his robots in the outdoor courtyard. The human-sized robot was dancing around, pounding the air with his fists like a boxer in training.
“Hold it right there, Twinkle Toes,” Hamegg said. “Are you some kind of ice-skater? You planning on ballroom dancing with your opponent, or you going to fight him?”
Eager to please, the robot started punching harder and delivering martial-arts style kicks in the air.
“Easy, champ, save a little for the show,” Hamegg said.
The robot paused, waiting for Hamegg’s approval.
“That was nice, very nice,” Hamegg told him. “Kid, I think you got the makings of a champion.”
The happy robot did a series of backflips across the courtyard like some crazed gymnast. He landed on both feet, raising his arms in victory.
Splat!
Zog accidentally crushed the robot with his giant foot. Astro and the kids rode in on Zog’s massive shoulders. Hamegg looked up in amazement. A small, dome-shaped head sat on top of the robot’s huge body. One of the robot’s thick arms ended in a cement mixer.
“Sorry about your robot,” Astro said.
Hamegg stared, open-mouthed, unable to talk for a minute. Then he spoke. “What? Oh him? He wasn’t really working out, anyway. But hey, this guy’s something else!”
The kids climbed down as Hamegg began to inspect Zog. He looked like a kid who had just unwrapped a birthday present.
“Boy, they don’t make ‘em like this anymore,” he gushed. “Look at the legs on this baby. Look at those feet. None of your carbon fiber plastic junk on this guy. That’s solid pig iron. He’s even got the original detailing.”
“Astro got it running, which I’m still having trouble believing,” Cora said, with a suspicious glance at Astro.
Hamegg’s eyes widened. “But it’s been dead for at least a century!” He turned to Astro. “How did you do it? Please tell me how you did it!”
Astro shrugged. “I just kicked it, you know, like a vending machine. ‘Give me back my money.’ It was nothing.”
“You hear that, kids? A genius with modesty,” Hamegg said. “I didn’t think that occurred in nature. Astro, you’re almost too good to be true. Keep this up and I just may have to adopt you.”
Astro beamed happily. Hamegg grabbed a handheld device from his workbench and waved it over Zog. The needle on the device jumped.
“Holy cow!” Hamegg cried. “This thing’s got enough juice to run a city.”
As he talked to the kids, the device was pointing at Astro. The needle jumped even higher, and the machine began to
“Give me a minute,” he said.
He ran to the robot.
“It weighs hundreds of tons,” Cora called out. “What are you going to do, put it in your backpack?”
She’d flip if she knew I could really carry it, Astro thought. He examined the bot. The robot’s body was big and barrel-shaped—you could fit a small family inside it. Astro scooted behind some overgrown weeds, making sure the others couldn’t see him. Then he peeled back a steel plate and stepped inside.
The robots circuits were covered in cobwebs, but everything looked like it was in place. Astro spotted a nameplate and wiped the dust from it. It read, “Z.O.G. Built to Last.”
“Zog,” Astro said out loud. “Hello, Zog.”
Astro’s eyes glowed, and he scanned the dusty circuits. He quickly located the power source—a dead battery.
“I know you’re not dead. You’re just pretending,” Astro told him.
He took a deep breath and focused a beam of Blue Core energy on the battery. Nothing happened.
“Come on, big guy. Time to wake up,” Astro urged.
Astro tried harder. The beam got brighter.
“Zog, let me help you ... come on.”
Slowly, the circuits began to crackle, coming to life. A blue light flickered across the control panel. Astro quickly jumped out of the robot’s body.
The ground rumbled as the robot awoke from his hundred-year sleep.
Zog was alive!
Back at the junkyard, Hamegg was testing one of his robots in the outdoor courtyard. The human-sized robot was dancing around, pounding the air with his fists like a boxer in training.
“Hold it right there, Twinkle Toes,” Hamegg said. “Are you some kind of ice-skater? You planning on ballroom dancing with your opponent, or you going to fight him?”
Eager to please, the robot started punching harder and delivering martial-arts style kicks in the air.
“Easy, champ, save a little for the show,” Hamegg said.
The robot paused, waiting for Hamegg’s approval.
“That was nice, very nice,” Hamegg told him. “Kid, I think you got the makings of a champion.”
The happy robot did a series of backflips across the courtyard like some crazed gymnast. He landed on both feet, raising his arms in victory.
Splat!
Zog accidentally crushed the robot with his giant foot. Astro and the kids rode in on Zog’s massive shoulders. Hamegg looked up in amazement. A small, dome-shaped head sat on top of the robot’s huge body. One of the robot’s thick arms ended in a cement mixer.
“Sorry about your robot,” Astro said.
Hamegg stared, open-mouthed, unable to talk for a minute. Then he spoke. “What? Oh him? He wasn’t really working out, anyway. But hey, this guy’s something else!”
The kids climbed down as Hamegg began to inspect Zog. He looked like a kid who had just unwrapped a birthday present.
“Boy, they don’t make ‘em like this anymore,” he gushed. “Look at the legs on this baby. Look at those feet. None of your carbon fiber plastic junk on this guy. That’s solid pig iron. He’s even got the original detailing.”
“Astro got it running, which I’m still having trouble believing,” Cora said, with a suspicious glance at Astro.
Hamegg’s eyes widened. “But it’s been dead for at least a century!” He turned to Astro. “How did you do it? Please tell me how you did it!”
Astro shrugged. “I just kicked it, you know, like a vending machine. ‘Give me back my money.’ It was nothing.”
“You hear that, kids? A genius with modesty,” Hamegg said. “I didn’t think that occurred in nature. Astro, you’re almost too good to be true. Keep this up and I just may have to adopt you.”
Astro beamed happily. Hamegg grabbed a handheld device from his workbench and waved it over Zog. The needle on the device jumped.
“Holy cow!” Hamegg cried. “This thing’s got enough juice to run a city.”
As he talked to the kids, the device was pointing at Astro. The needle jumped even higher, and the machine began to
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