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The Sitter by Erin Tyler In December of 2450, I took a big chance and left the disquieting confines of The Mistress' junk-lab, the only home I knew. I found myself in a ruined city, surrounded by the hostile natives of the land that had once been United States of America. The nation that had put a man on the moon was defunct, and its descendants led short, bitter, hand-to-mouth lives. In January of 2451, I learned the defunding of all public education and research caused this unending national nightmare. It sounds silly if that's all you know about it, but it wasn't like public schools were magically keeping the atomic mutant space zombies away from Earth. Mass ignorance, rampant unemployment, pervasive crime and corruption, unchecked climate change, an all-consuming sense of hopelessness as lives and communities came unraveled -- all of it was the result of such a disastrous policy. The government stopped protecting the people. People stopped listening to the government. The cities that weren't flooded, obliterated by tornadoes, or otherwise crushed by the elements were abandoned to gangs, then some to nature. Our collapse was long, slow, and painful. The U.S.A. was battered by its disregard for its own well-being, and Mother Nature dealt the finishing blow. Not one bomb needed to go off for the land of the free and the home of the brave to become a much quieter, stiller place. Given that science and intellectualism were no longer trusted, I thought technology had been abandoned. I thought we had convinced ourselves it was a godless, evil, hateful thing that should be burned in a fire. I was right. Mostly. There is still some technology, here and there. The Sisters of Galileo have the most. The Republic of the North is unafraid to show off its (literal) guns, as is absolutely everyone else who has them. And then there are the other guys. What "other guys," you ask? I wish I knew. Jesus, how I wish I knew! On the evening of July 15, 2442, a man sat in an otherwise empty building in the ruins of Boston. In front of him was the last standing skyscraper in the city. Its true name was lost to history, and it was known only as "Sky Tower." In front of him was a radio, its knobs broken and its plastic casing cracked and faded, but otherwise still functional. This is known because the radio was later found by the only living inhabitant of Sky Tower: a woman known locally as the Metal Mistress, and nationally as the Metal Witch of New England. Part of the roof of the building in which the man was camped had caved in, leaving a clear view of Sky Tower to the north. He had set up a cot and a small gas stove deeper in the building, out of sight of anyone below or above him. From the piles of trash and the makeshift toilet the Metal Mistress found behind the building, it was obvious he had been there a long time. He had a couple gallons of water, a couple changes of clothes... ...And enough guns to supply a small army. The man emerged from the shadows when it was dark and when he didn't see any movement from Sky Tower. There was a town, Parkside, to the northwest, and he didn't want them to see him there, either. In the early hours of the evening, he cranked the little hand-powered radio and listened in. One hour went by, and there was nothing but static. Then two hours. Then three. The man had no books or games. Aside from Sky Tower and Parkside, there was nothing of any great interest nearby. Nothing else could have occupied his time other than that little radio, and nobody else was on the air. So what did he do? Did he just sit there and listen to static? I think he did, and that kind of freaks me out. (And I'm a disembodied brain!) Around 10:10 pm, the static was broken by voices. The man turned up the volume a little -- but only a little -- and listened in: "...Awfully sorry about Sea's conduct," an elderly woman said. "I don't want to talk to her," a younger woman responded. A sigh. "I know, dear. I've spoken to her, and she understands why her actions were wrong." There was a pause. "So, have you given it any more thought, dear?" "My family?" In a voice like a wince, "...The, uh... the L-P." Another pause, then, "Oh, yeah. I-it's just... it seems like a lot of responsibility." "It is, dear! It's a tremendous responsibility! It may even be more responsibility than what I have!" A giggle on the radio, or more static. "Please be serious," the younger woman gently pleaded. The voice of the older woman dropped in pitch. "I am being serious, dear. What you have, what I'm asking you to do..." The older woman paused. "I know... I'm asking you to do a lot. I'll do everything I can to help. Anything you want, anything at all." "Can you really promise that?" A pause. The older woman said nothing. "You're down in Atlanta. I'm up here." Nothing. The younger woman sighed. "I'm not-" "-No, you're right," the older woman admitted. "I'm sorry I can't be there to help. I wish I could. I really wish I could! Ohhh!" The older woman paused again, and sighed. "You're the only person who can do it, dear." "But I don't know how!" Another pause. When the older woman spoke, she sounded a little frightened. "Didn't she tell you?!" "Yes, she did!" The older woman breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "But... what am I supposed to do?! Just... march them downstairs?! This Lane Pl-" "-Ah, ah!!" the older woman quickly cut her off. "Just L-P will do fine, dear." "High Mistress... there is no plan! I mean, there's the L-P, but that's just the hardware! What's the actual plan part of the L-P?!" "...Oh! Well... reacclimatize the town, I suppose." "You suppose?!" "Relax, dear," the older woman said soothingly. "Don't fret. Go down and tell them what's happened. "Tonight's the Witch-Burning Festival!!" The older woman chuckled. "Well then, don't do it tonight. Wait a few days. Or weeks. Or months! Let their passions die down. When you think it's safe... go down, and explain to them what's happened." "So... what? I just say, 'Sheila's dead, I'm the new Metal Mistress'?" The man went tense. He seized the radio and held it close to his ear like it was a telephone. "Maybe something a little more diplomatic, dear," the older woman said. "Introduce yourself first. Give them your most winning smile." A pause. "Hi! My name is-" "-Ah, ah!!" the older woman cut her off again. "Never give our names over the radio, dear, not while we're alive. We don't know who's listening in." An hour later, in the darkness of the night, the Metal Mistress was alone in bed. Her home was quiet, save for some purring machines scattered about. There were some small LEDs here and there, but most of the top floor of Sky Tower was cloaked in darkness. Far below, the Parksiders were burning her predecessor and mentor in effigy, ignorant of the fact that she had cremated the actual woman's dead body just five weeks before. The Metal Mistress could still see Sheila on the pyre near the river. Her arms were crossed, her mouth turned down in her constant scowl; Sheila Tucker looked harsh and cruel even in death. On the one hand, the Metal Mistress was glad to see that bitch go. On the other hand, she was sad that this left her alone in the world. The Metal Mistress was standing on the pyre next to Sheila's body. How this was possible, with this being the past and the wood below her feet on fire, she didn't know, nor did she think about it. She could see Sheila's head and black-dressed body illuminated by the flames in that dark June night. "Why were you always so mean?" the Metal Mistress mumbled. "What'd I ever do to you?" Sheila's eyes were open. Sheila was standing up, the flames licking the fringe of her black funerary dress, and looking straight down at her apprentice with a powerful sneer. "-No," the Metal Mistress wanted to say, but couldn't. The word stuck in her throat. "No!!" Sheila's voice cracked the sky like the holo-sats. A red aurora swirled about her head. "YOU'RE A WORTHLESS-" "Worthless," the earth repeated with a deep voice, like an echo. Men made of tarnished steel and old car parts emerged from the pyre, seized the Metal Mistress' arms and legs, and pulled her backwards into the flames. "PATHETIC-" "Pathetic piece of-" The Metal Mistress was swallowed in the inferno. All she could see was the bright red and orange licking flames, and the impenetrable black whorl that was Sheila Tucker. "PIECE OF SHIT!!" the Metal Mistress screamed and screamed and- -Woke up. She was sweating in her bed. It was her bed now, ever since Sheila had died. Because Sheila was dead. Sheila was dead. The Metal Mistress had to tell herself that. She wiped some of the sweat off her brow and licked her lips. Her mouth felt dry. She wanted water. As soon as she sat up, she felt cold again -- the wind at the top of Sky Tower was cold, regardless of season. She wrapped herself tightly in two layers of blankets, turning them into a cloak about her form, and she plodded sleepily out of her bedroom and into her kitchenette. Even in this poor light, she knew where everything was, and was able to avoid bashing her toe against anything. Once she was in the kitchenette, she gradually turned on a small electric lamp, drooping the hood of her "cloak" over her eyes against the light, and turned toward her mini- fridge. She took out a bottle of water and drank straight from it, without considering the age of the plastic. It didn't taste good, but it was wet, and that was all that mattered to her at the moment. Some of the water dribbled from her lips onto the blankets, which she used to mop her chin as she stuck the bottle back in the mini-fridge. The Metal Mistress switched the lamp off and turned to leave. There was something there. She jumped a little, then figured it was just Tiny or Leviathan. But it was too small for Tiny. And it was too tall for Leviathan. It was a man. The Metal Mistress let out a little choked cry of shock. She couldn't see his face, but she could see that he was obese and had a foul odor about him, like bad canned tuna. There was something in front of the man now, something that glinted metallically in the low light. There was a flash of light, and a loud bang. She felt something blow against her blankets, then she realized there was a hole in them. She felt a coldness against her sides... ...He had just tried to shoot her. He dropped the rifle, then pulled a pistol out of his coat. The Metal Mistress shrieked and ran to the side as he started firing into the kitchen. Another bullet tore another couple holes through the blankets, missing her body by less than an inch. She was trapped within the kitchenette, and had no choice: she ran square into the man's chest in an attempt to knock him off-balance. It was no good -- he was so much heavier than her. He grabbed her by the throat and choked her single- handed. They grappled together for the pistol with their free hands as his grip on her throat got tighter and tighter. With one hand, the Metal Mistress bent the pinky finger around her throat back, then back further, as far as she could yank it, until she felt it cracking. The man let out a yell of pain, and his grip on the pistol loosened, but not enough for the Metal Mistress to hold it for long. She was only able to hold it for long enough to toss it away -- the gun hooked through the air and over the edge of the floor. "Fucking bitch!!" the man roared, and punched her in the face. She staggered backwards, trying to regain her footing, but she fell to the floor of the central shop area. In her injured daze, the Metal Mistress meagerly tried to drag herself across the floor to the elevator, to the stairs, to the bedroom, to anywhere that wasn't where she was. "Leviathg-" she gagged, trying to get the word out. The man stomped over to where she was and flipped her over. In her hand was a large socket wrench she had dropped there earlier, which she smashed into the man's left temple. He staggered, and she used the chance to lift herself to her feet and lurch toward the elevator. "...Teeny!! Tiny!! Hep!! Hep!! He-" The man was behind her now -- he smashed her head against the wall of the shop, then spun her around again. The socket wrench dropped from her hand before she could use it again, before her attacker even had to yank it away. He gripped her neck with both hands and strangled her, shaking her violently as he did so. She still couldn't see his face clearly, even with it just a foot away. She saw yellow-stained teeth and uncombed, thinning hair, but that was it. Maybe it was just that dark. Maybe she was blacking out. She couldn't fight back. She couldn't breathe. As he choked her out against the wall, she slid slowly to the floor, until... ...There was a sudden rattle. The Metal Mistress felt something hot spray against her face. In the haze of her approaching blackout, she looked up and saw holes: over a dozen tiny little holes through which blew the cold night air... ...In her attacker's chest. The man let out a choked cry as he looked down and saw his punctured lungs struggle for air. His grip loosened, and the Metal Mistress fell to the floor on her back. Through his legs, she saw Leviathan standing behind him, miniguns out. "Haaaaahhh!!" the man cried. And the shop lit up with a blaze of gunfire as viscera and plaster rained down on the Metal Mistress. Eventually, the Metal Mistress caught her breath. Eventually, Teeny arrived to take what little remained of her attacker's body away. His grave was the ocean. His fate was to feed the fish. Eventually, the Metal Mistress dropped her blood-drenched blankets and washed the man's remains off of herself in her shower. The water was steaming hot, yet she couldn't stop shivering. For several nights afterward, the Metal Mistress would not sleep a wink, until she passed out one day and slept for 20 hours straight. Nobody else came up the stairs. Nobody else came to attack her. Nobody came to check on her. Not the order, not Parkside, nobody. Before all that, however, the Metal Mistress, clad in her ghastly red blankets and shivering, looked out over the edge of Sky Tower at the town below. She could see the bonfire. She could see the people. Many had heard the gunfire, but they did nothing. And why would they? "...F-f-fuck y-you all," the Metal Mistress growled, her voice shaking as much as her body. "I-I'm n-not giv-givin' you sh-shit. F-fuck you all!" Then, with a sharp intake of breath, she leaned forward and screamed, "Ffffuck you aaaaaaaall!!" In September of 2450, I began to live with the Metal Mistress, whom I refer to as "The Mistress," on the top floor of Sky Tower. On the afternoon of January 31, 2451, I stood on the top of Sky Tower and watched our death arrive. In the hours before, Parkside had erupted into a state of frenzied activity. I watched Alan direct men towards the repairs of Grant's Gate, against the protests of the handful of supporters Mayor Fitzpatrick retained, despite his absence. Alan got up close to them, real close, and said something that must not have been very nice. They balked, and most backed down. I watched Junior wait impatiently for news to arrive while the town doctor, a middle-aged man in a filthy white coat, fixed up the injuries he had incurred fighting our guard robot. When one of his deputies arrived with a fearful look, Junior was on him and peppering him with questions. The deputy shook his head and shrugged way too much, usually as he was pointing out the gate behind him. Junior scoured his scalp with his fingers. His eyes wandered south, then east towards me. He saw me watching him. I quickly put down my monocular, remembering how upset he and Alan had been the last time I spied on Parkside from the top of the tower. He continued to stare at me. I peeked through the monocular again and saw him shake his head and look out of the gate. Junior had given me the brush-off. That's a first, I thought. Every time I look in his direction, it pisses him off. I have no idea how he knows when I do that. It's eerie, really. He seemed much more interested in the opposite direction, though. I followed the direction he was looking in and saw the horde. I had seen it already: a throng of 8000 men on the horizon, and closing in fast. The army of President Bellows of the Re-United States of America: the Secret Service. It was 10 times bigger than the population of the entire town. Having seen it already didn't made me feel any less fear. That wasn't all Junior was interested in, though. When I turned my monocular a little closer to Parkside, I saw what was making him really upset. Far afield of Parkside, but not as far afield as the army, was a little elevated bungalow in the top floor of a three-story building. It was on one of the main roads out of town. I had seen it before -- the light from a campfire illuminated its windows every night, and I was certain there was always at least one person in there. That afternoon, smoke was pouring out of the windows. The inside was dark and motionless; there were no signs of life within. There was another small outpost -- a watchtower built on top of an old utility line. Half the floor had given way, and there was nobody around there, either. I turned my monocular southwest, toward a third small outpost. It was a narrow, multi-story brick building on a small side road. I could just barely tell that the door had been broken. I saw nobody inside. I did see the man, though. A tree, old and leafless, stood by the door. The man was hanging by a rope from one of its upper branches. He was completely still. I knew right then and there what had Junior so worried, what he couldn't see clearly from the ground. Bellows' army wasn't just coming. They were already here, in the ruins surrounding us. While I watched the unfolding drama from the top of the tower, The Mistress was in the lobby repairing the robots that Junior had damaged. Fortunately, they were pretty resilient. Years of being shot at had forced The Mistress and her predecessors to fine-tune their design so they would be difficult to beat, but easy to fix. The Mistress brought down her tool chest from the 10th floor, and with a little soldering here and some replacement circuits there, she had every visible part of Junior's kung-fu gunfight opponent fixed. She left the robot in sleep mode to run diagnostics on it while she got to the task of fixing the robot that Junior had shot in the back. It was proving to be more difficult than its compatriot -- Junior had actually done some real damage to this one. After hauling the broken robot on top of the desk and removing its breastplate, The Mistress removed some of the struts that supported the robot so she could get a deeper look within its chest. She lightly groaned when she found a circuit board the bullet had cracked -- it would be hard to replace. She searched her memory for anything among her piles of junk that could be suitable, but couldn't think of any off the top of her head. That didn't mean a replacement part wasn't there, though. She considered her options: return to the 70th floor and spend hours digging through piles, or see if she could salvage the part in front of her? The Mistress heard light footfalls behind her. "Hey, Natsuko, pass me the super glue," she mumbled. "'S in my tool chest, there." She reached behind her... ...And there was the super glue in her hand. "Yeh," she mumbled distractedly, as she often did when she meant to say "thanks." She tried pushing the circuit board down, but the tension in it made it spring back up; she couldn't get it in the right spot to glue it back together. "Hey, hand me the Phillip's head. Three-sixteenths." A pause. She waited. "Now, Natsuko." Another pause. "The screwdriver?" She was handed a flat-head. "This is a flat-head. I said Phillips head Natsuko's on the roof." She spun around. And there was Annabelle. The little girl looked wide-eyed up at the taller woman. Charlotte peeked out from around the corner of the desk, her little shoes crunching against the bits of marble Junior had shot off. Annabelle held up another screwdriver. "Charlotte says it's this one," she offered. "Shouldn't it be called an X-head?" "-Buh-digah!!" The Mistress sputtered. "Whuhthefff-!!" She looked around wildly in search of anyone else. "How'd you get in here?! Annabelle teetered a bit. "We walked in," she said. "...There's no door." She pointed at the few glass doors that remained on the front side of the building. "D-no!! I mean, how'd you get past my guard robots?!" Annabelle looked silently at the powered-down guard robots. "...I don't mean these guard robots!! I mean-!!" She looked up and saw Tiny toward the front, watching the front doors. "Tiny!!" she snarled, and he turned around. "You're supposed to be watching the doors!!" "I am, Mistress," he said. She hovered over Annabelle and Charlotte and pointed down at them, jerking her finger between them. "Ggggg... nyyyyaaaahhhh!!" "I am unarm-" "-Daaaaaaaaaahhhhh-aaaaaahhhhh!!" The Mistress shouted, cutting him off. "Ha! Ha! No. Okay. Hm. Ahem!" She snuffled, scratched her head, then strode around the girls toward her robot. "...Ahhhhhh... okay, maybe... I wasn't... clearrrrrr..." She paused. "You just have to... chase them off. Chaaase... them off." "I did, Mistress." "Uh-huh! Uh-huh!" The Mistress nodded. "Aaaaaaand..." "They did not run, Mistress." The Mistress paused, then turned back to the girls. They watched her expectantly. "You had... a giant killer robot chase you," she stated. "Uh-huh," Annabelle said. "Aaand... you didn't run." "Uh-huh." A pause. "You're Alan's kids, aren't you?" "Uh-huh." The Mistress didn't respond. The girls waited. The Mistress still didn't respond. Things got awkward. Annabelle looked to Charlotte, who merely looked back. "...Miss Hahn fell asleep," Annabelle finally offered. "Why are you here?!" The Mistress shouted. The girls shrank a little. "...Because we were bored," Annabelle replied. The Mistress was incredulous. "...You were bored?!" She strode up to the girls. "You walked into the home of the Metal Witch of New England, a woman who burned half your town to the ground... because you were bored?!" "Bee was getting really... really..." Whisper-whisper. "Fidgety! She wanted to leave, and we wanted to go with her!" "Bee?! This was Bee's idea?! Who the hell is Bee?!" The Mistress paused, then said in a less voluminous voice, "Aw shit, there were three of you, weren't there?" Annabelle scowled. "Five cents," she muttered. The Mistress was looking around for the third little girl. "...What?!" she spat, distracted. "Five cents per swear word." Annabelle pointed to a large jar sitting in a red wagon next to Charlotte. "...Is... that a swear jar?! Wha-?!" In a flash, The Mistress picked a coin out of her coat pocket and flicked it to the child, who caught it with two hands. "I don't have time for your games!! Where's your sister?!" She looked around. "And where's Teeny?!" Bee's favorite number was 10 because it had everything: a one, a zero, and nine other numbers before it. Once she got over her initial reluctance to approach the wicked water-spitting metal man, she discovered that she could step into him and have him take her anywhere in the building she wanted to go. She went up to the second floor, then the third, then the fourth. Bee was never one to avoid throwing caution to the wind -- she commanded him to the 10th floor right then and there. She skipped out of Teeny once they reached her destination. "Thank you, Mister Box That Goes Up!" she chimed. Teeny got out of the shaft and rolled three feet, then was stopped by Bee. "Never bathe me again," she said, suddenly stern... ...And just as suddenly, she wasn't (regardless, Teeny backed into the elevator shaft... slowly). Bee skipped to the only door that wasn't either the elevator shaft or the stairs. The Mistress had left it open, because c'mon, who's gonna bother it? Bee arduously pushed the door open and looked in. 800 robots looked back. The little girl's mouth fell open, and she stared agape at the army of electromechanical men. Time stood still. "I want to live here," she stated. When The Mistress arrived five minutes later, she saw the door was wide open. "No," she breathed. "No... no-no-no!!" She bolted in, Annabelle and Charlotte trailing behind her. "Bee!! Bee, where are you?!" She ran between the robots, and heard a giggling from somewhere indeterminate nearby. "Arrrgg!! Annoying Carson Child Number 3, where are you?!" Something small and giggling bolted between the 'bots behind her, but The Mistress turned too late to catch it. Annabelle had been rendered speechless by the sight; she and Charlotte beheld the mass of robots with wonderment. "...Hooohhh...," Charlotte breathed. "Hehehehehehe-yahahahahahaaaa!!" The Mistress heard behind her, and she spun around. Bee was straddling the shoulders of a robot five rows down from her. "This is where everything awesome lives!!" Bee screamed, pumping her arms into the air. "Gotcha!!" The Mistress snapped as she seized Bee under the shoulders. Bee kicked and struggled to stay on the robot for a couple seconds, then squirmed wildly as The Mistress carried her back to the door. "It's a metal-man army!!" Bee cried with glee. "It is not a metal-man army!!" The Mistress replied. "It's a robot army!! Arg no wait dammit!! It's not a robot army!!" "This is a lot of..." Annabelle blinked. "...Of robots. What are they for, if they're not an army?" "They're not-!" The Mistress huffed in frustration, and some fatigue (Bee could do that to a person). "-Get! Get!" The Mistress jerked her head toward the door, then herded Annabelle and Charlotte out with her feet. Once outside, she put Bee back on the floor, then prevented her from running back into the room. "I swear I will tie you up!" "You can try!" Bee challenged her. "All others have failed!!" She tried to scramble back in again, but The Mistress blocked her with one hand as she closed and locked the door with the other. "...Awwww!" "Are you going to use them to fight off the president?" Annabelle asked. The Mistress panted for a moment, catching her breath. "...N-no," she croaked. "Well, why not?" "Because..." The Mistress looked at Annabelle, who waited for an explanation. "...Because... I don't... I..." She paused to think. "I can't... just... give... them away." Annabelle and Bee looked perplexed. Charlotte's expression was indecipherable. The Mistress sighed, then stood up straight. "Do you know who I am?" she asked. "Yeah," Annabelle replied. "You're the Metal Mistress." "The Metal Mistressssss!!" Bee hissed. "Heh!" The Mistress motioned toward Bee. "I am your enemy! I am the scariest... thing... you know about!" "No, you're not," Annabelle said flatly. "Oh, yes I am! I'm Sheila Tucker! I build metal demons! I summon sky- monsters!" The girls looked skeptical. "...I'm crazy-nuts-loco!!" The Mistress cried, throwing her arms into the air like she just didn't care. "Abooga-booga-booga!!" "You're not scary," Annabelle said. "Yeah, Bellows is scary," Bee agreed. "The adults don't think we've heard about him, but we hear them talk about all the, the stuff he did in..." She turned to Charlotte. "Michigan," Charlotte said. "Yeah, Michigan! He, like, chopped people up and..." Bee's face twisted in revulsion, and she shivered a little. "Gyyyyuuhhh!" "He killed everyone in Detroit," Charlotte said softly. The Mistress said nothing. "They said he went in and told all the people they were heretics for trading with the R-O-N," Charlotte continued. "Then he burned them." The Mistress was a little unsteady as she stared at Charlotte. After a moment, she said, "You're the one who drew the picture, right? ...Charlotte?" "Yeah?" "You do that often? Draw things you see?" "...Yeah." The Mistress said nothing for a few seconds -- she just stood there and stared. "...Yeah." "Can't you use them against Bellows?" Annabelle asked. "Your robots?" The Mistress snapped out of her temporary fugue. "...Uhhh..." She paused again. "No. I can't." "Why not?" "They're too awesome to not use!!" Bee declared. "They're... eh! They're... dumb." A pause. "Does that make sense?" "No," all three girls replied. The Mistress rubbed her forehead. "...You can't just... say words to these robots and have them do things. They need... eh... special instructions, called 'programming,' to do stuff. If you want them to fight bad guys, to... do combat, then you need combat programming." Another pause. "And I don't have the right combat programming!" The ABCs shared a look amongst themselves, then Annabelle asked, "Who does?" "Nobody! It doesn't exist anymore!" The Mistress sighed. "I used to have... something? That might have worked?" She rubbed her eyes. "It got... mixed up with some bad mojo, and I had to get rid of it. I didn't think ahead on that one." "Mojo?" "Stuff! Things! Ahhh..." The Mistress' shoulders slumped. "I don't know how to explain this any better." Bee hummed. "Makes sense." "Can't you make new combat programming?" Annabelle asked. "Not easily, no. Certainly not before tomorrow." "When President Bellows arrives?" The Mistress froze. She looked like she was staring at Annabelle, but really, she was staring at nobody or nothing in particular; she was just looking off into space. "...Yeah. When President Bellows arrives." Twenty minutes later, I had spied as much as I could spy from my spy- post on the roof. I walked down the stairs to The Mistress' 70th-floor home and headed around the corner to the elevator. The Mistress had taught me that the call button did, in fact, call Teeny. I pushed the down-pointing arrow and waited for him to either come up the shaft or roll up from behind me into the shaft as I thought about how little work elevator cars really did back in the 21st century. Bee skipped by. "Hi, Natsuko!" she chirped. "Hi, Bee," I said absently. She skipped around the corner and out of sight. I continued to wait for Teeny. After a few seconds, I bolted around the corner and saw Bee skipping toward the junk-lab. As I ran around the next corner, I saw her skipping into the junk-lab. Oh crap, I thought, and ran in after her. "Hi! I'm Bee!" she said, introducing herself to Miki-chan. "Ohayo, Bee! I'm Miki-chan!" Miki-chan said. "It's so nice to see you up close!" Bee blinked. "Up close?" "Aaaaahhhhh, no, no!" I cried, scooping up Bee and carrying her out of the junk-lab. "You weren't here you didn't hear that c'mon Bee!!" I deposited her outside the junk-lab and put my hands on her shoulders. "What are you doing here?!" I whispered urgently. "The Metal Mistress brought us up here!" she replied. "Wha?! Seriously?! Why?!" "I dunno!" I started to say something before The Mistress called back, "Bee! You back there?" "Yes, Metal Mistress!" "Come here! I don't want you messing around back there!" "It's okay! Natsuko and-" "-No, no!!" I cut her off, putting her hand over her mouth. "Don't say Miki-chan!!" She looked quizzical. "Just... don't say Miki-chan!! It's just me!!" I took my hand off her mouth, and she hesitated before saying, "Natsuko's back here with me!" "Natsuko, bring her up here!" The Mistress ordered. I gave Bee a gentle push back toward the front of the building. "But Natsuko-sama! I wanted to talk to her!" Miki-chan complained. "I know, I-!" I started to say, then held up my hand in a placating gesture. It didn't work. "Natsuko-samaaaa!" I ran over and unplugged her speaker before she could get any louder. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I whispered. "Natsuko! What's going on back there?!" The Mistress barked. "Coming!" I called up. "Sorry, Miki-chan! Sorry!" I backed out of the room, took Bee by the hand, and led her back toward the front. Before turning the corner with her, I peeked back at Bee. She had a look on her face that was very Annabelle-like, so much so that I momentarily mistook her for her sister (an easy mistake to make, given they were physically identical). She looked suspicious, and I'm certain she had a lot of questions that she would share with her sisters. I quickly bent down and looked her in the eyes. "Bee, you gotta do me a big favor, okay? Please, please don't tell The Mistress about talking to Miki- chan, or seeing Miki-chan, or anything about Miki-chan. Okay?" Bee didn't say anything, but it looked like she wanted to ask why. "I'm being weird, I know!" I clasped my hands together. "Just... please do this for me!!" She shrugged a little and mumbled, "...Okay," like it wasn't a big deal. I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you! I'll-" Suddenly, The Mistress stepped around the corner. "Natsuko! You, me, Bee, front, now!" "Yes, Mistress!" I took Bee's hand again and followed The Mistress as she led us to the shop area. Up front, Annabelle and Charlotte were circling Tiny. "Do you think someone's in there?" Annabelle asked. "It's a robot," Charlotte said. "It runs on electricity." "What is eee-lec-tri-city?" Annabelle asked. Charlotte shrugged. "What are they doing here?!" I griped. "They got bored," The Mistress grumbled, crossing her arms. "So they decided to pay me a visit." "This is no time to be doing that!" I didn't care if the ABCs could hear me; in fact, I wanted them to hear me. "Alan is going to freak out!!" "No shhh-" Annabelle glanced at her. "No kidding." "Why didn't you just send them home?!" "Why didn't I just send them home?!" She sounded incredulous as she turned to face me. "Why didn't I... just send them home?!" She paused. "Huh. Why didn't I just send them home?" she asked herself seriously, then clapped her hands together. "Okay, girls! Time to go home! Move it, move it! Teeny, elevator!" "...Uh! Wait," I said. "Hold on, there's something I have to talk to you about first." I motioned my head toward Annabelle and Charlotte. "...Privately?" The Mistress hesitated for a moment. "Tiny, watch the girls," she said. "Don't let them go within three feet of the edge of the floor, and keep them in the shop area." "Understood, Mistress," he said. "Okay, there's gotta be someone in there!" Annabelle said. Bee started climbing him to see if there was, or to see if she could, or both, or neither (I don't know). Meanwhile, The Mistress led me into her bedroom. "What's up?" she asked in a low voice. "Bellows' army is on the horizon," I said. She didn't react. "If you pull aside the plastic curtain around the floor-" "-No, I believe you," she said. "That's not why you wanted to talk to me in private, though." I hesitated. "There's somebody in the ruins." "There's lots of somebodies in the ruins. Most are nobodies." "No, I mean, there's somebody killing people in the ruins!" I whispered. She said nothing. "I think they're taking out Parkside's outposts ahead of the army!" The Mistress thought about this. "...Are you sure they're Parkside outposts?" "Do you remember how Alan said there'd be more flares? There haven't been. Not one!" She said nothing. "I saw bodies out there, Mistress. Posts have been burnt out. I think Bellows is blinding Parkside before he arrives." She sighed. "I don't think the girls should be out wandering alone. Never mind that the last time they did that, the K-H-E grabbed them." The Mistress put her hands on her hips, leaned on one leg, and stared at the floor. "...Huuuuuhhhh...," she sighed. "Yeah... okay, okay." She paused. "Wait... no. No, no, no." "What?" "I'm not running a hotel here, Natsuko. The kids can't stay." "I didn't say they should. What I mean is... someone... should walk them back?" It sounded like a bad idea as soon as it left my mouth. The Mistress raised her head. "Someone should walk them back?!" She snorted. "Well, ah... maybe-" "-I ain't doin' it!" she quickly chirped. "Go get their brother!" "He's been exiled." "Old Holy Douche is out of town. Ahhh!" She fished a nickel out of her pocket. "It's okay," Bee said out loud, "he's..." She stopped talking. "A jerk," Charlotte said. Her sisters looked at her, surprised. "...What? It doesn't always have to be polysyllabic." "It's too risky," I said. "How about Tiny, or Leviathan?" The Mistress cocked her head back and let out a loud crow. "Oh, yeah! They loooooove them down there!" "...Teeny?" "You might find this surprising: he makes a shi-!" She turned and looked around the corner at the girls, then turned back. "...He's not very good as a motor vehicle. Rides too rough, no shock absorbers. Also, not bulletproof. He's completely unarmed as well, so if your little... mystery mayhem-maker is out there, Teeny'll be just a big, slow target with squishy little children inside." "The guard-bots?" "Still broken." "The Lane Planners?" "Still dumb." I was desperate. "...Bucket-chan?" "Sssuper dumb." I was floored. "Soooo, that leaves me, then." "Eee-yep." It was a slight consolation that she was as pleased by this as I was. "We can always wait for Alan to come back. You know how reasonable he gets when his kids are involved." And so I found myself outside Sky Tower, holding the ABCs' hands as we walked down the road toward Parkside. Nobody in town noticed me -- they were all too busy rushing around, pulling their wares out of their stalls and boarding up their homes. I didn't see Junior or his deputies nearby, but that didn't mean they wouldn't see me once I got close enough. "They take one shot at you, and I'll fucking snipe them," The Mistress had promised me (before giving Annabelle a nickel). "Find Alan, hand off the kids, then come right back here. No dawdling." Just before sending me off, The Mistress had seemed a little off-kilter. "...Okay, uhhh... get going," she said quickly, waving me outside. About a third of the way toward Parkside, I stopped. "Hold up, girls." I got on one knee to look them in the eyes. "The Mistress said you saw the robots on the tenth floor. Is that correct?" "Yeah?" Annabelle replied. "Well... you can't tell anyone in town about them. They... might get the wrong idea." "I still don't get why you can't get them to fight!" Bee exclaimed. "They'd be really helpful," Annabelle agreed. Charlotte nodded. I sighed. "...I wish I could. Really." "You and the Metal Mistress can figure it out, if you work together," Annabelle said. I found that so totally endearing, but, "...It's not that easy, girls." "But you two are always able to beat the bad guys!" Bee complained. She swung her fists. "You can make the robots fight the president, and kick his butt!" "We know you can do it," Annabelle added. "You're heroes," Charlotte whispered. That made me smile. I mussed Bee's already-messy hair a little, and she seemed to like it. "Thank you, girls. I'll see what I can do, alright?" They nodded. I stood back up and continued to lead them back to town. "You should see the robot she keeps in the back!" Bee said. Before I could stop her, she added, "Her name's Miki-chan, and she doesn't have legs! Or skin!" "Eugh!' Annabelle grimaced. I quickly got on one knee again. "Can we please keep Miki-chan to ourselves, though?! Please?!" "Why do you want to keep Miki-chan a secret?" Annabelle asked. "Is there something you don't want people to know about her?" There must have been something in my expression that said something, because Charlotte nudged Annabelle, then shook her head. "...Okay," Annabelle said after a couple seconds. "Never mind." As I continued walking the girls back to Parkside, I marveled at how they had managed to break open nearly every secret in Sky Tower. God help us, I thought, they could get into Fort Knox if they wanted! A wide bubble of silence surrounded the girls and me as we walked into Parkside; everyone immediately around us slowed down or stopped once we were in town, and all stared. It was the very first time I had been in town, the very first time in centuries I had been among a crowd of people that didn't exclusively gather to kill me, and it could not have felt more awkward. I was dressed in my babydoll and skinny jeans, which weren't very modest, but I wanted to display how few weapons I had on me. I had never been more acutely aware of my arm, though. "Everybody's staring at us," Charlotte whispered nervously. "I know," I whispered back. "Do you see your father?" "West, near the gate." I held their hands tight as we made our way through the gaggle of onlookers. Some rushed back to their homes to get... what? Other people? Weapons? Something completely unrelated, and undeserving of my attention? I didn't know, and I didn't want to hang around long enough to find out. We're just taking a walk, I thought. We're just three little girls and a robot, out for a stroll. I had turned my head for only a second. When I looked ahead again, there was a man in the way: a big guy with hands as large as my head. "What the fuck're you doin' here?" he grunted with a voice I could feel in my chest. "...F-five cents," Annabelle said, without much of her usual composure. The man ignored her; instead, he leaned forward and got in my face. "I said, what the fuck're you doin' here, demon-whore?" There was so much hate in his glare, it was hard to look directly at him. "...I'm taking these girls to their father," I said slowly. The man glanced at them. "Give 'em to me. I'll take 'em." I looked at the girls, and they didn't look like they wanted to go with him. I looked more directly at the man. "No. I'll take them." "I said, hand them over," he growled. Three other men surrounded me. A red dot appeared on his forehead. I grinned. I didn't think she was being serious, I thought, but I'll take what I can get. "No," I said more confidently. "And if you're smart, you'll back off right now." "Morty, there's something on your face," one of the men said behind me. "Morty, there's something on your face!!" another man shouted. "Morty" brushed his face with one hand, then saw the dot on his hand. It darted over to his chin, then down to his chest, then back up to his forehead. He stood up, brushing his face with both hands in a panic, before noticing the red dot had moved back down to his chest again. "That'd be my Mistress," I said. "You know what a sniper rifle is, I'd imagine. She does that, but with miniguns. Much messier." The man's glare was killer. "Fuck you, you fucking whore!! "You can try. Or, you can stand aside and let me take these girls to their father." Morty's nostrils flared. He looked like he was seriously considering punching me in the face. Aside from the risk of getting myself killed, I didn't want my first visit to Parkside to be punctuated by gunfire. Amazingly, Junior made it right. "Mortimer!" he shouted, marching lopsidedly over to Morty. "C'mon, break it up!! Don't make me kick your ass again!!" "She started it!" Morty complained, clearly lying. "I don't give a shit!" Junior spat. "We've got too much goin' on to be picking fights with the Metal Mistress right now! So piss off and go make yourself useful!!" Morty sneered at Junior, then he and his pals stomped away. Up in Sky Tower, The Mistress was watching me through her telescope as Leviathan kept a laser-sighted minigun on standby. "Did the sheriff just save Natsuko?" she mumbled. "Well, I'll be damned. Maybe he's not a total dickface." Junior paid no attention to me; instead, he turned his ire on the girls. "Where the fuck did you go?!" He grabbed Annabelle by the arm before any of them could have a chance to respond. "I said-" "Whoa, whoa!!" I cried, pushing him away. "Junior!! Calm down!! They're safe, see?! They're safe!!" "Ahh, there's the dickface," The Mistress said. "Do you realize what a panic you put poor Miss Hahn in?!" he snarled. "You're lucky your father doesn't know-" "-Doesn't know what?" Alan suddenly chimed in, appearing when nobody was watching. He was breathing hard -- he had been rushing all around town. He looked me up and down. "The girls went to Sky Tower?!" "...Yeah," Junior replied. "How'd you know?" Alan jerked one hand toward me. "...Oh." "They're fine, Alan," I said. "They ran around, had a few laughs-" "-W-wait, what?!" He raised an eyebrow. "They had laughs?!" "...Th... th-that's just an expression," I stuttered. "It was awesome!!" Bee cried. "The lady in the coat had-!!" Annabelle quickly stepped on her sister's foot to shut her up. Alan seemed surprised by the fact that his daughters had been in Sky Tower and wouldn't need therapy later in life (which, come to think of it, surprised me as well). "...W-well... okay, well..." He scratched his scalp. "They're safe. That's all that matters." I nodded. "Good! You have them, then, so... I gotta head back-" "-Wait, Natsuko," Alan said. "Junior says you've been spying on us again." I winced. "Just a little! I wanted to see if-" Alan shook his hands dismissively. "-No, it's fine!" He looked at Junior. Junior looked back. Alan got closer to me and whispered, "...Have you... seen... anything, out there?" "I saw Bellows' army." "I mean, in the ruins." "I sent four guys out there," Junior said, standing next to Alan. They were crowding me, but only because they were worried about something other than me. "Only one came back, and it was 'cause he got left behind." ...Shit, I thought, they don't know. My voice dropped. "Alan, there's dead people out there." I paused. "There are buildings, they had people in them before," Alan got even closer to me, "but now they're burnt out." He closed his eyes. "There was a tree? Next to one building?" "A dead tree?!" Junior asked. "Gray? Just, like, three big branches left, goin' like-" He stuck his arms up in the air, mimicking the branches of the old, leafless tree. I hesitated and dreaded giving him the news. "There was a man hanging from it..." Alan groaned. Junior was crestfallen. "I-I'm sorry..." Junior wavered a bit. "Was he, uh... was he..." He rubbed his nose. "Kinda... tough-looking guy, a-a this... round chin..." "I couldn't see that clearly." I held up my monocular. "I was just using this little thing." Alan breathed out and clasped his hands together. Junior put one hand on his hip, an expression of dread on his face. "...We're blind, Alan." He waited for a reply. None came. "We can't predict his approach. We don't know how his army's spread out." "He has only one point of entry," Alan replied, and pointed to the gate. Junior shook his head. "He's got enough guys to make his own points of entry! We've got a-a-a what?! A wall of garbage?!" Alan was thinking. He put out one hand to pacify Junior. "He's not here yet. We have time to plan." "To plan!! What plan?! What plan-" "-Junior!" I said suddenly, surprising myself a little. I put out my own hands, like Alan. Junior couldn't believe his eyes... but he went quiet. Alan nodded to me in appreciation. He put a grin on his face that I recognized -- cheap and disingenuous, usually one he used when he was talking to people that he'd much rather not talk to. It was broken, however, and he couldn't maintain it very well. "...I... don't suppose," he started, "the Metal Mistress... would... allow us..." He cleared his throat, then looked at me sheepishly. "...Up on her roof?" "Her roof?" I asked. Junior's disbelieving stare turned on Alan. "She's got the best view around," Alan grumbled. "Even if we're not on the roof... say, the... I dunno... tenth floor?" "-No!" I trilled. Alan sighed. "I know we don't get along that well, but-" "-No, I mean, she won't let you on the, uh... that specific floor, but..." Come to think of it, I thought, she wouldn't allow him on any floor. "We really need some high ground here, Natsuko," Alan said, coming close to pleading. I so desperately didn't want him to beg. "The Metal Mistress has the highest around. Don't you think you can convince her, to maybe let one or two guys up there?" "...I'll... see what I can do?" I croaked. The exchange between us felt like a bad joke; both of us knew what her response would be. Alan looked down at his little girls. He looked ill and worried. "Listen, I gotta get back," I said. "I've been here too long already. I'll stop by Mariel's and check on Gary, maybe see if he and I can find him someplace more secure-" "-Take the girls," Alan said, out of the blue. "...Uh?" He gave me a serious look. "Take the girls," he said. "Take them to Gary. Tell him he's watching them tonight." "Yaaaay!" Bee cried. "Sleepover at Gary's!!" "Alan, what the hell?!" Junior spat. I wanted to ask the same thing. "I... we don't know where they are," Alan breathed, pointing into the ruins. "Bellows could have dozens of guys running around in there killing off our boys. Mariel's is out in the ruins, true, but it's behind the wall, away from... whoever they are!" He turned to me. There was fear in his eyes. "My house, Natsuko, is just four doors down from the gate. That's a brisk walk from my front door to whatever hell Bellows has sent our way." He threw out his arms. "I-I-I don't know how else to say it. It-it-it-" "-Your home isn't safe," I said. "My home isn't safe!! The whole west side..." He swept his arms across an entire row of houses. "Unsafe, so long as the gate's open!" "'N even with it shut," Junior mumbled. "Natsuko, I don't want to ask you... no, I don't want to force you-" A man approached Alan and whispered something into his ear, and Alan went from tactful to livid in a heartbeat. "He wants payment now?! Oh, that greedy piece of sh-!!" He put his hand over his mouth, then glanced at the girls, then swept a look over me. "Okay, tell him I'll be there in 10 minutes-" The man shook his head and whispered something else. "Impatient son-!!" he growled. "-Alan, I got it," I said. "I'll take them to Gary's. But are you sure?" "I don't have time to find someone else!" he wheezed, then looked behind him. A corpulent man scowled at him in the distance. "I gotta go," Alan muttered, then stomped toward the man. Junior led me and the girls toward the eastern edge of Parkside. "You can't wait?!" Alan howled. "What, are you hoping to collect your money now, then skip town?! There's a fucking army in the way!!" I hadn't expected the need to bring the ABCs with me back to Sky Tower. "I think I'm becoming a babysitter," I joked with the girls. "Am I any good at it?" "You haven't run away yet," Annabelle said. "That's good." "That's a pretty good joke," I replied. "I'm not joking. We've had an incident. Bee." "Mrs. Thornton has no sense of humor," Bee grumbled. "We're going back to Sky Tower," Charlotte said. I sighed. "Yeah. I gotta let The Mistress know what the situation with you three is." "Why?" Annabelle asked. "Yeah," Bee agreed. "Just take us to Gary. You don't need to ask for permission." "I'm not asking for-look, I-" "-Isn't it your house?" Annabelle asked. I paused. "It'll only take a minute, okay?" I said, maybe sounding a little too flustered. "She... she should know this." The Mistress stepped out of the elevator as we walked into the lobby of Sky Tower. "Why did you bring them back?!" she cried. "Was I not clear enough?! Find Alan!! Hand off kids!! Come back!! That's it!!" "Parkside isn't safe right now," I said. "Alan asked me to shack the girls up at Mariel's for the night, so I'm taking them over to Gary now." I motioned to the girls to follow me. "Alan wants to put three extra people in Mariel's?! Fine!! Let's see..." She whipped out a calculator. I froze. "400 a month, divided by 30 days, is 13.33 per night. One night, times three heads, is 40 bucks even. Tell Alan to fork over the cash, and the girls can stay." ... ...At that moment, something snapped. "No," I said plainly. It was The Mistress' turn to freeze. "...Eh?" "No." She tilted her head. "...No?" "That's right." The ABCs looked up at me, wide-eyed. The Mistress straightened up. "...Natsuko... go back to Parkside." She pointed down the street. "Tell Alan it's 40 dollars." "No," I said, slightly more emphatically. The Mistress paused again. "It's not 40 dollars?" she asked, giving me the benefit of the doubt, but with strain. "It's zero dollars," I said. "I'm not charging Alan anything, for anybody." "Fine! Then I'm charging him!" "No, you're not." I took a step forward. I knew this was a bad idea, but I couldn't help myself. "It's not up to you." The Mistress fell dead silent. This is bad, I thought. "Teeny, elevator." Teeny slid back into the shaft. "Go," I said, waving the girls toward Teeny and sticking them in. "Head to the 50th floor. There's a robot up there named Bucket-chan. He likes buckets." I looked at Annabelle directly and shrugged before she could ask the obvious question. "...O-okay," Annabelle mumbled. Bee gave the command, and up they went. I paused before turning. "Natsuko, what the hell are you doing?" The Mistress asked in a low voice. "What are you doing?" I asked in return. "Do you really want money from them?" I looked around. "Where are you going to spend it? On what?" "It's not about the money, Natsuko!" she hissed, taking a step toward me. "It's about discouraging them from setting up a home in my shop!" "Okay, A, it's my shop, you said so yourself, and B, I'll let whoever I want to live there live there!" "Whomever," came an echo down the elevator shaft. We (mostly) ignored that. "You want people to live in your shop?!" The Mistress cried. "I think you misunderstand the purpose of a shop!!" "I'm making an exception because I got him in this mess! Besides, what am I going to do, turn some kid out into the ruins?! Who knows what's out there!" The Mistress couldn't believe what she was hearing. "...'Some kid?!' He's older than you!!" I pressed my lips together. "Jesus Christ, Natsuko!! Why the fuck are you so insistent on bending over backwards for these people?! What, are you their gram-gram now?!" "I'm trying-!!" I stopped shouting and brought myself down. Deep breath, I thought. Don't let her do this to you. "...I'm just trying... to make peace with them." "Make peace!" She scoffed. "You saw their reaction first-hand when you walked into their town! They don't want peace!!" "They're afraid." "Of you!!" I stopped and stared at her, hard, then I pointed out toward Mariel's. "...Annabelle, Beatrix, and Charlotte Carson... are going to spend the night at Mariel's... and we're not going to charge them a penny." I pushed the call button for Teeny. The Mistress was simmering. "You don't get to talk that way to me, Natsuko!" My thoughts briefly turned to something the Sea Witch of Norfolk had once said to The Mistress. I thought about bringing it up, then thought better of it because it felt petty. "...It's one night," I said instead. "It won't hurt anyone to let the girls shack up with their brother for one night." Her anger was growing (big surprise there). "...They're... not... staying!!" I remained (mostly) level. "Not with you, no." "Yes they are, because it's my shop!!" My nose turned up. "No, it is not!" "It is, because it's your shop, and you're my fucking property!!" My face contorted in disgust. That was offensive... ...But kind of true. I didn't have a good retort. "Take!! Them!! Back!!" she snarled. I hesitated. I watched her. And frankly, I didn't give a damn. "No," I replied. She was bubbling. She was burning. She was so mad, she was shaking. The Mistress' anger was building into full-blown rage. "Natsuko, you stupid fucking-!!" "-Go ahead!!" I shouted, letting my own frustration burst out. "Throw another tantrum!! Scream!! Shout!! Knock shit over!! See if I care!! How's it any different from what you always do?!" The Mistress was frozen in place. Now I was shaking. I grated my teeth. "Every single time!! Every single fucking time you have a problem, you either ignore it, or you yell at it!! You never try to engage anything!! You never try to understand anyone!! All you care about is yourself, and everyone and everything around you is stupid for not bending over backwards for you!! So go right ahead and curse out your problems!! It always works, so why try anything else?!" ...She stood there, stunned. I half-expected her to pull out some device and shut me down right then and there. She didn't. As I heard the sound of Teeny descending, I found my calm again. "...You know, you are-!" I started to say, then hesitated, and thought. "You... love to complain about your mistress. You love saying how bad she was. But you have never... ever... tried to rise above her." Teeny arrived, and I stepped into him. "Think about that," I added, before he took me up and out of her sight. I found the ABCs on the 50th floor looking at Bucket-chan, but they didn't seem very interested in him. Even Bee was just mulling about silently instead of climbing up or into something while raising a fuss about how cool it was. Charlotte was looking out over Parkside, toward the horizon. "You girls okay?" I asked. Annabelle and Bee looked forlorn. Charlotte kept staring out toward the army. "Hey, listen, don't worry. I'm sure your dad will figure this out." "Did you and the Metal Mistress have a fight?" Annabelle asked. Because of course they know what happened, I thought. "Yeah." "You shouldn't be fighting each other!!" Bee cried, suddenly animated. "You can't make the robots punch the bad guys in their stupid faces if you're fighting each other!!" Annabelle asked, with grave concern, "Do you hate each other now?" "...No," I said. "I don't hate The Mistress." "Does she hate you?" I hesitated. "Eh... no, I don't think..." My weak response didn't quell Annabelle's fears. "Can we stay with Gary?" "Oh, you're going to stay with Gary. C'mon, I'll walk you over." I waved them toward me, but they didn't move. Annabelle and Bee looked anxious. Charlotte hadn't moved an inch since I got up there. "If The Mistress is going to give anyone grief, it's going to be me, not you, and she can give me all the grief she wants. C'mon!" Annabelle and Bee plodded toward me. "...Sorry we got you in trouble," Bee muttered miserably. "Naaah," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "With The Mistress, it's not if she'll get mad at you, it's when." As Annabelle and Bee made their way back to Teeny, I noticed that Charlotte still hadn't moved. "...Charlotte? Are you okay?" I bent down on one knee next to her. Charlotte usually seemed very aloof, but seeing her that way while she watched Bellows' army made me uneasy. She slowly turned her head to me. Something very small in her expression changed, something barely noticeable -- a strange girl, that one, full of subtlety -- but she looked upset. "...Everyone is always fighting," she whispered. ... ...That hit kind of hard. As simple as it seemed, her observation fell heavy on me. "...I know, kid," I uttered, feeling dragged down. "Believe me, I know." My sigh came out tired and rattling. "It's like... every time somebody wants to do something... i-it starts conflict." I didn't look at the army, but at the city below. "Everything's gone stagnant. It-it..." I took a small, fake breath. "...I don't get it." "It's like fill-in-the-blanks," she whispered. "...Huh?" "Fill-in-the-blanks," she repeated, then reached under her sweater and pulled out a small, thin, badly yellowed book. I cracked a grin when she showed it to me -- it was an old "Mad Libs" book. I opened it and saw that most of the pages were torn out, and many that were left were faded. However, some of the print was still visible. "Some things have blank spaces," she said, "and you gotta fill in those blank spaces, so they can be complete and make sense." "...I don't understand," I said. "What...?" She took the Mad Libs book from me and looked at it. "Most people don't know how to play fill-in-the-blanks, though. They think if they don't get it their way, then they'll never get it their way. They forget the things put in the blanks can change." She looked up at me. "They fight about it, and they never put any things into any blanks." "...I-I still don't..." "And the people who do put things in those blanks?" She looked out over Parkside, toward the horizon again. And I knew. "I bet the president would like to play fill-in-the-blanks with me," she said. As I watched Bee order Teeny back to the lobby, it occurred to me that it was kind of unusual for him to be following the directions of anyone other than The Mistress and me. Then again, I thought, maybe The Mistress figured that nobody else would ever use Teeny, so she didn't bother with securing him. Still, it was kind of funny to watch the little girl ordering around the big, tough-looking robot. What wasn't funny, though, was the thought that The Mistress was still downstairs. Still repairing the ass-kicking combat robots, no doubt, I thought. Still with the fresh memory of me rebuking her. She kicked me out of the tower for just a look. What will she do for an outburst? I gathered the girls behind me and got ready as we reached the lobby. The guard robots were down there. Tiny was down there. But The Mistress was nowhere to be seen. I looked around a little, but didn't see her hiding behind the desk, or anywhere else. Teeny's been with me this whole time, I thought. "Tiny, where's The Mistress?" I asked. Tiny said nothing. I asked the guard robots, but they said nothing, either. They were back to their usual routine of looking back and forth. I doubt she left the tower, I thought. Did she walk back upstairs? Why would she do that? "This is kind of creepy," Annabelle said, reflecting my thoughts. "Yeah," Bee added. "Not enough robots." "Eh... c'mon, let's just... go...," I said, herding the girls toward the back door. Gary was ecstatic to see his little sisters, making him perhaps the only 14-year-old boy in history who was happy to let his younger siblings into his room. He had organized my shop (or The Mistress's shop; whatever, I thought, she's already bitterly antisocial, so her reneging on a promise is no surprise) to a much greater degree than anything up in Sky Tower, which gave the ABCs more to look at. He spent 10 minutes explaining the stuff to them, only occasionally turning to me for confirmation. When the girls started exploring on their own, I motioned toward the door, and Gary followed me out. "Uhhh, what's...," Gary started to ask. I looked at the door, and Gary closed it. "What's going on? Dad was worried they're not safe out here." I bit my lip. "...You might want to sit down for this, Gary." He knew something was serious, so he did. I told him everything: Charlotte's picture, The Mistress' decryption, and his father's mad race to put together a defense against Bellows' incoming army. When I told him that Mayor Fitzpatrick had fled town, his face twisted into a sneer. When I asked how the heck he missed the freaking gun battle that happened just across the street, he told me he had taken a mid-day nap and slept through it.