|
|
Lazy Sunday
Warm light on his face brought Mike Nelson slowly awake. His first,
half-formed thought as his eyes drifted open was, “How did the ‘bots get
a sunlamp into my room?” Then as he finally came further awake, he realized
that the light was honest-to-goodness real sunlight, shining in his window.
He wasn’t in his room on the Satellite of Love any
longer; he was back on Earth, with a new apartment, a new job, and
two new roommates.
With a contented sigh, he folded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. No doubt about it, it was good to be home. He no longer had to worry about asteroid fields, attacking aliens, or keeping his sanity intact through whatever truly putrid movies the nutcase of the day decided to send him and his friends. Happy Temps was a thing of the past, of course, but that didn’t unduly bother him. The first thing he’d done after climbing out of the barely-intact wreckage of the SOL was look up Joel Robinson, the first occupant of the orbiting theater. They’d only met once, but Mike hadn’t really had any other options. At the very least, he knew, Joel would take care of the ‘bots.
Joel had taken care of all of them, giving Mike a job at his hot fish shop, and a place to stay until Mike had managed to get himself an apartment. His old one, of course, had been rented out after his disappearance.
The older man had also given Mike some very good advice when Gypsy had
first offered them all stock in ConGypsCo. Since Joel had built Gypsy in
the first place, he knew quite well what she was capable of, and so when
Gypsy had made the offer, Mike had taken the question to Joel. At the normally
laconic man’s enthusiastic endorsement, Mike had used what little money
he had to buy several shares in Gypsy’s company. Of course, he’d kept the
knowledge from Tom and Crow, not wanting them to make fun of him. Now he
had a comfortable little nest egg, and never had to work again, if he didn’t
want to.
Mike laughed to himself, staring at the ceiling. Did the ‘bots honestly
think he had financed this apartment, not to mention his car, with his
salary from the hot fish shop? Well, probably not. Tom and Crow were like
children in many ways, and with the
self-centeredness of children, the question of money had probably never
occurred to them at all. That was okay with Mike-- he liked them that way,
and it certainly made the living situation less strained.
He had to admit, though, he was glad that the two of them had chosen
to live with him, rather than at Joel’s house. After years on the SOL,
it would have been very lonely to live in this place by himself. Of course,
it did put kind of a crimp in his dating life... Mike made a mental note
to ask Tom just what had happened when Crow opened the door for
the last woman he’d asked out. Mike wasn’t angry; any woman who reacted
the way Brandi did to his friends wasn’t someone he wanted to see more
of. Still, not even Brandi should have screamed and run at the sight of
a small gold robot with a smart mouth. Not that loudly, anyway.
A sudden clamor from the kitchen drew Mike out of his thoughts. Sniffing,
he groaned. Tom and Crow were trying to cook breakfast, and failing miserably,
from the sound of the arguing. Drawing the covers up over his head, Mike
seriously contemplated staying in bed for the rest of the day. No, it was
Sunday, he remembered, and the ‘bots would never forgive him if he did
that. With a sigh, he pushed himself out of the bed, grabbing his bathrobe
as he did so. The nanites were inhabiting the apartment, doing light housekeeping
in return for room and board, but still, he knew they’d appreciate it if
he
didn’t let the kitchen turn into a disaster area.
Shaking his head, Mike left his room to see just what culinary atrocity
his two housemates had committed this time.
“All right, we’re there. Everybody out of the car!” _Before I completely lose my marbles,_ Mike added silently. Tom and Crow, as usual, had decided to pass the time on their car trip by singing every annoying song they could come up with-- and considering all the numbers they’d performed over the years during the movies, that was quite a number. Not that it was a long trip, just out to the suburbs, but Tom and Crow had a gift for packing as much annoyance into a drive as possible.
Once out of the car, both ‘bots made a beeline for the shiny metallic mass of their “cousins,” Joel’s newest creations. The group gathered in the backyard and preparations immediately began for a game of Atomic Death Ball. As an argument broke out as to who got to be the Wizard of Destruction this time, Mike made his way past the robots, heading for the patio.
“Beer?” Joel asked, handing a bottle to the younger man.
“Thanks,” Mike replied, sinking into the other patio chair. Opening the bottle, he took a long swallow. That was one of the three things he’d missed the most on the Satellite. In order, they were sunshine, fresh air, and beer. After all, the experiment was supposed to break his will, so most of the things that made life enjoyable were gone.
Cocking his head, Mike regarded the knot of robots out on the grass. “You know, I still have no idea what the rules are for that game.”
Joel chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. They don’t either.” He took a sip of his beer, watching fondly as his creations attempted to bowl each other over. “Got a call from Gypsy,” he continued casually.
“Oh yeah? How’re things going with her?”
“Pretty good. We didn’t talk long; it’s kind of hard to hold a conversation with her anymore,” Joel replied.
Mike nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” Without the Satellite’s systems to run, Gypsy’s intelligence had skyrocketed, and it was very hard for either man to follow her train of thought for any length of time. Joel could manage better than Mike, however.
Joel Robinson was a certified genius, something that had confronted Mike at least once a day on the SOL. The first time they’d met, Mike had been surprised to find that this legend was in fact a down-to-earth, approachable man. He was also the only real human friend Mike had anymore, which wasn’t as bad as Mike would have thought. All things considered, Mike was pretty happy with his life. He had a good job, a little money in the bank, and Sunday dinners with this wacky little family he’d somehow become a part of.
“So what’s for dinner?” Mike asked. Joel’s smile was just slightly wicked.
“Thought we could throw a couple steaks on the grill,” he replied easily.
Mike shot him a look. “YOU can throw a couple steaks on that grill.
It doesn’t like me.”
“Come on, Mike, just because you had a little difficulty with it the
last time...”
“It carbonized every piece of meat I put on it and flared up so high
planes mistook it for a beacon!”
Joel grinned. “Yeah, but you didn’t have to hit it.”
Despite himself, a small smile quirked Mike’s lips. “Yeah, well, I got frustrated.”
“So, what did you bring for the after-dinner show?”
Digging in the plastic bag beside his chair, Mike pulled out a video
clamshell. “’Gamera vs. Legion,’” he read. “Tom and Crow absolutely insisted
on this one.”
“Gamera. Wow, that brings back memories,” Joel replied. “I wonder what
ever happened to Dr. F, anyway?
“Dunno,” Mike shrugged. “All this time travel stuff confuses
the heck out of me. Wherever he is, I hope he’s absolutely miserable.”
“Aw, come on. You gotta admit, he did a lot for us. If it hadn’t been
for him, none of this would have happened.”
Mike thought about that. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll send him a thank-you-note.” He took another sip of his beer. “But I still hope he’s miserable.”
Joel laughed out loud.
The two of them sat like that for a long time, talking, as the sun sank down and the bots played in the yard. Just another lazy Sunday evening with the family.