both.”
“We’re fine,” I said. “Sorry.” I tried to come up with an alternative explanation and floundered.
“We were fighting,” said Penny. “Jim said that I couldn’t use the computer, even though he wasn’t using it, so I logged in anyway and got on Facebook as him and posted a few updates.”
“I don’t care what it was about,” Mom interrupted. “Jim, we need you to act more responsible. Your sister is only nine. Don’t let her goad you.”
“Sorry. I was mostly kidding around.” I looked like an idiot, but at least Penny came up with a story—and in genius Penny fashion, came up with something Mom didn’t even want to ask questions about.
“Who was the guy in the tow truck who just dropped you off?”
Uh-oh. She’d seen that.
“The brother of a friend from school,” I told her. “He saw us walking back and gave us a ride.”
“Right. Well, as long as you know him and didn’t take a ride from a stranger.”
“Mom, we’re not stupid,” I said.
“I know, I know. Let me call your dad. I’ll ask him to stop at the store so he has time to cool off.”
“Sorry,” said Penny. “We didn’t mean to make him mad.”
“Oh, I know you’re both going to act like kids sometimes.Maybe this business with the missing boy will help him appreciate that you don’t get into
real
trouble.”
At least not yet, I thought.
That night Penny and I made a robot. We used tinfoil-covered boxes for the body and a cookie tin for the head. The legs were a wrapping-paper tube cut in half.
“Is this robot a boy or a girl?” Penny asked when the robot was nearly finished.
“Neither. Robots are its.”
“I think it’s a girl.” Penny gave the robot unruly rainbow hair made of used gift-wrap ribbons. “The robots I saw earlier were definitely boys.”
“You saw more than one?”
She looked at me. “You said there weren’t any robots.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Forget it! They don’t exist!” She wagged the robot’s wire arm to make it wave. “Hi Jimmy,” she chanted in a high-pitched, robotic voice. “My name is Celeste.”
“Don’t get too attached to it,” I told Penny. “Oliver’s robot is going to smash this thing to pieces.”
“No!” Penny protested. “You can’t hurt Celeste!”
“Never mind.” I patted Penny on the arm. “You can keep this one.”
“Yay!” She moved the arms up and down into different poses. “Can we make her do things?”
“Like what?”
“Walk and talk and beat up other robots?”
“I don’t know how,” I said. “We’ll have to bring in an expert.”
Oliver came over the next day with a book and a plastic box full of electronic bits and pieces.
Dad was in the living room watching a football play-off game. Green Bay was at Philadelphia. He was rooting for the Eagles because his second-favorite team was whoever was playing the Packers. Oliver glanced at Dad, then at me, raising his eyebrows inquisitively. I got his meaning and shook my head: No, Dad still didn’t know about the cameras.
“So what did you bring us?” Penny peeked in the box.
“Lots of gadgets and doodads and whatsits,” said Oliver. “Enough for a half dozen rudimentary robots.”
“Awesome! What’s this?” Penny picked through the box and found a plastic thing about the size of a deck of cards. It had a blank LCD display.
“It’s the logic controller,” said Oliver. “You use it to program the robot.”
“Program her to do what?” Penny asked.
“Whatever you want,” he said. “I’ll show you.” He started making a squidlike thing with the logic controller at the center and wires for tentacles, lecturing while he worked: The sensors were like our own senses, responding to light, sound, or touch. They sent messages to the logic controller, which was like the brain. The logic controller decided whatto do according to its program and triggered the actuators, which were like muscles. They made things work: flashing lights, wheels,
“We’re fine,” I said. “Sorry.” I tried to come up with an alternative explanation and floundered.
“We were fighting,” said Penny. “Jim said that I couldn’t use the computer, even though he wasn’t using it, so I logged in anyway and got on Facebook as him and posted a few updates.”
“I don’t care what it was about,” Mom interrupted. “Jim, we need you to act more responsible. Your sister is only nine. Don’t let her goad you.”
“Sorry. I was mostly kidding around.” I looked like an idiot, but at least Penny came up with a story—and in genius Penny fashion, came up with something Mom didn’t even want to ask questions about.
“Who was the guy in the tow truck who just dropped you off?”
Uh-oh. She’d seen that.
“The brother of a friend from school,” I told her. “He saw us walking back and gave us a ride.”
“Right. Well, as long as you know him and didn’t take a ride from a stranger.”
“Mom, we’re not stupid,” I said.
“I know, I know. Let me call your dad. I’ll ask him to stop at the store so he has time to cool off.”
“Sorry,” said Penny. “We didn’t mean to make him mad.”
“Oh, I know you’re both going to act like kids sometimes.Maybe this business with the missing boy will help him appreciate that you don’t get into
real
trouble.”
At least not yet, I thought.
That night Penny and I made a robot. We used tinfoil-covered boxes for the body and a cookie tin for the head. The legs were a wrapping-paper tube cut in half.
“Is this robot a boy or a girl?” Penny asked when the robot was nearly finished.
“Neither. Robots are its.”
“I think it’s a girl.” Penny gave the robot unruly rainbow hair made of used gift-wrap ribbons. “The robots I saw earlier were definitely boys.”
“You saw more than one?”
She looked at me. “You said there weren’t any robots.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Forget it! They don’t exist!” She wagged the robot’s wire arm to make it wave. “Hi Jimmy,” she chanted in a high-pitched, robotic voice. “My name is Celeste.”
“Don’t get too attached to it,” I told Penny. “Oliver’s robot is going to smash this thing to pieces.”
“No!” Penny protested. “You can’t hurt Celeste!”
“Never mind.” I patted Penny on the arm. “You can keep this one.”
“Yay!” She moved the arms up and down into different poses. “Can we make her do things?”
“Like what?”
“Walk and talk and beat up other robots?”
“I don’t know how,” I said. “We’ll have to bring in an expert.”
Oliver came over the next day with a book and a plastic box full of electronic bits and pieces.
Dad was in the living room watching a football play-off game. Green Bay was at Philadelphia. He was rooting for the Eagles because his second-favorite team was whoever was playing the Packers. Oliver glanced at Dad, then at me, raising his eyebrows inquisitively. I got his meaning and shook my head: No, Dad still didn’t know about the cameras.
“So what did you bring us?” Penny peeked in the box.
“Lots of gadgets and doodads and whatsits,” said Oliver. “Enough for a half dozen rudimentary robots.”
“Awesome! What’s this?” Penny picked through the box and found a plastic thing about the size of a deck of cards. It had a blank LCD display.
“It’s the logic controller,” said Oliver. “You use it to program the robot.”
“Program her to do what?” Penny asked.
“Whatever you want,” he said. “I’ll show you.” He started making a squidlike thing with the logic controller at the center and wires for tentacles, lecturing while he worked: The sensors were like our own senses, responding to light, sound, or touch. They sent messages to the logic controller, which was like the brain. The logic controller decided whatto do according to its program and triggered the actuators, which were like muscles. They made things work: flashing lights, wheels,
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