***
A few minutes later, Che and Rackenfauz pulled up in the truck. They were in fine humor when they entered the lobby.
“I don’t suppose we’ll see the likes of him for a while,” Dr. Che said.
“That burst of gunfire past his ear was a great idea, Jerry,” Rackenfauz said. “I’ll bet he hasn’t stopped running yet!”
Dr. Che shrugged. “I thought it would add a touch of class.”
They laughed uproariously, as if they were sharing the world’s most hilarious joke. Winston and Star drew even closer together. Finally, the horrid racket died down.
“Uh ... could we get Rippie now?” Star asked.
“Rippie?” Rackenfauz said. “Who the hell’s that?”
“The deactivated mech wolf,” Winston explained.
“Yeah sure,” Rackenfauz said. “Just don’t switch the damn thing on, okay?”
“Certainly,” Winston said.
Rackenfauz gestured toward a nearby door. “There should be a cart in that supply closet.”
Winston and Star removed the dolly cart from the closet and rolled it outside to the truck.
As they loaded Ripper onto the cart, Winston looked back through the glass doors. Che and Rackenfauz were still in the lobby, laughing and carrying on like school boys at some wild west picnic – their personalities defined by their guns.
Amazing, Winston thought, one blast from those things and a whole lifetime of brilliant achievements can be eradicated. Any idiot can pull a trigger.
Star looked up from her work, saw the contemplative look on Winston’s face.
“Do you ever consider that maybe you think too much about things?” she asked.
“Well ... maybe I do sometimes,” he said
“Why don’t we just concentrate on the matters at hand?” Star said. “Rippie’s makeover – and yours.”
Winston flinched. During the chaotic events of the past two days, he’d scarcely given a thought to the great mission he was supposed to be on – his ‘makeover’ into an entirely new type of being. To be truthful, the whole concept filled him with terror.
The awareness of it had never been far from Star’s mind, he was sure, but he’d buried it under the pressures of the various crises.
“Yes, of course, Star,” he said. “Let’s deal with the matters at hand.”
They wheeled Ripper into the lobby.
“All right,” Dr. Rackenfauz said, “now that the fun’s over, let’s go check out the rest of the damage.”
“Everybody stick together,” Che said. “There might be more of those creeps hanging around.”
They proceeded down a long hallway toward Dr. Rackenfauz’s workshop. Che and Rackenfauz led the way, assault rifles ready to blast anyone who posed a threat. Winston brought up the rear pushing the dolly cart.
Perhaps all they’d find in Dr. Rackenfauz’s workshop would be total destruction, as they had at Pickle Lake Castle. Or maybe things would still be functional. Winston could not decide which outcome he preferred.
54. Dr. Rackenfauz’s HQ
They reached a closed metal door. It was very banged up, as if from a forced entry.
“I don’t like the looks of this, Jerry,” Rackenfauz said.
He tried to open the door, but it is was jammed shut. Dr. Che helped him shoulder it open. The two men groped their way into the darkened workshop.
“I can never find that damn light switch,” Rackenfauz said.
Winston and Star remained in the hallway. Star caressed Ripper’s coat, hoping with all her being that Dr. Rackenfauz would be able to perform the Iridium conversion. But now this! Her hopes of ever seeing Iridium again were as battered as that workshop door.
Other anxieties pressed in on her. What of Dr. Che’s workshop? Would it be trashed as well – the instruments and components necessary for Winston’s upgrade destroyed? A life’s work ruined by some laughing idiot of a human being.
For the first time, Star wished that she had been able to take a swing at the hapless vandal they’d captured. The club nestled in her backpack would do just fine.
“If there’s anybody in here, surrender now or get shot!” Dr. Che called into the darkness.
Yes, Star thought with a brutality that surprised her, blow his head off!
Finally, an overhead light came on.
“Crap!” Rackenfauz said.
Winston and Star entered the vandalized workshop. Tools lay scattered, drawers and lockers were flung open. Spray painted obscenities disfigured the walls.
“Not again!” Star moaned.
Rackenfauz and Che poked about the mayhem, checking the storage areas, picking up and inspecting tools. Star leaned against Winston for support.
“Do they have to wreck everything?” she said. “What’s wrong with those people?”
“Things are not as bad as they might seem, young lady,” Rackenfauz said. “Nothing appears to be seriously damaged.”
“Ohhh ... thank heaven!” Star said.
Rackenfauz opened a large drawer, poked through it.
“They must have been more intent on burglary than destruction ... Oh no!”
“What?” Star gasped.
Rackenfauz hoisted an empty cigar box.
“My marijuana stash is gone!”
Star sighed with relief. Rackenfauz tossed away the cigar box disgustedly.
“I hope they choke on it,” he said.
Rackenfauz rifled the drawer further. He pulled out a single unit of paper-wrapped herb.
“Well gee whiz,” he said, “they left me one goddam joint.”
“How fortuitous,” Winston said.
Rackenfauz lit the joint, inhaled deeply, held it in, blew out.
“Ah, I needed that!”
He offered the smoldering item to Dr. Che.
“Care for a hit, Jerry?”
Che nodded eagerly and took the joint. He went through the same respiratory procedure as Dr. Rackenfauz had.
“First rate stuff, Edgar,” he said, blowing the smoke out.
And so forth. The two men were becoming relaxed and collegial under the herb’s influence. Winston could scarcely believe that only a short time before these same men had been terrorizing a helpless captive.
This substance seems to have a profound, not altogether undesirable, effect on their chemical programming, he thought. Even so, it would seem best that it is in very limited supply.
A burnt, not particularly pleasant, smell wafted across his olfactory sensor. He’d been in the presence of this smoke before, at a party hosted by his late master for some of her ‘left wing’ academic associates.
He and Dr. Horvath were in the kitchen preparing food while the guests remained in the living room discussing the merits of the failed socialist system. One of them lit an herb cigarette, and the pungent aroma wafted into the kitchen. Dr. Horvath poked her head outside the door and announced with a disapproving glower:
“You’ve got two seconds to get rid of that stuff before I open a can of ‘whup ass,’” she said.
This remark had been sufficient to ‘clear the air’ as it were. The evening progressed with the consumption of liquid intoxicants only.
Star ventured an interruption of the pot party.
“Uh ... Dr. Rackenfauz?” she said.
Rackenfauz turned a cheery face her direction. “Yes, young lady?”
“Is the backup Iridium brain all right?”
For a moment, Rackenfauz seemed confused by her inquiry, as if he were listening to it from some different, more pleasant, reality than his trashed workshop. Then cognizance entered his eyes.
“Oh, that,” he said. “Let’s find out.”
He took another toke and held the smoke in while he rummaged through a locker. Star watched with growing concern. Her simulated respiration also paused.
Rackenfauz pulled a metal box out of the locker and flung it open. Finally, he blew the smoke out of his lungs. Winston and Star recoiled from the b
last.
“Yes, here it is,” Rackenfauz said. “Looks to be undamaged.”
“Wonderful!” Star cried.
Rackenfauz looked toward Dr. Che. “Good thing those vandals can’t tell a brain from their own asses.”
The men laughed uproariously. Winston failed to see any humor in the remark, nor did he understand the rather bizarre anatomical references. He decided not to request clarification, however, since that would only annoy the humans.
Rackenfauz gestured toward a work bench.
“Put our friend over there,” he said. “I’ll start the brain transplant after we get this mess cleaned up.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Star said.
Winston rolled the dolly cart in from the corridor. Star helped him lift Ripper onto the workbench. Despite its imposing size, the mech wolf was fairly light, as were all robotic life forms.
Star stroked Ripper’s bristly gray hairs. “Everything is going to be just fine, dear – don’t worry.”
“Maybe I should fine tune the brain’s programming first,” Rackenfauz said, “eliminate whatever flaws it might have.”
“Wouldn’t that be difficult?” Winston asked.
“Not really,” Rackenfauz said. “Does Iridium need any personality adjustments? I never got the chance to evaluate the first model in action, you know.”
Winston recalled the sarcastic, abrasive elements of Iridium’s personality – the great canine’s rough-edged manner of speaking, his coarse humor. Wouldn’t it be nice to smooth out some of those defects?
“Now that you mention it – ” he began.
Star elbowed him hard.
“No, Professor,” she said. “Iri was fine just the way he was.”
She gave Winston a stern, uncompromising look.
“Uh ... right,” Winston said. “I was about to say that.”
Dr. Che spoke up next.
“Do you want me to help, Edgar?” he asked.
“Trying to learn my trade secrets, eh?” Rackenfauz said.
“Well, yeah,” Che said, “thought I’d ask, anyway.”
Rackenfauz cackled his customary high-pitched laugh, like the screeching of some primeval forest denizen. He took a final toke and flicked away the roach.
“Sure, Jerry, if you like,” he said. “Give me a couple hours to prep, then I’ll teach you a thing or two.”
“OK, thanks, Edgar.”
Che moved to the door.
“I’d better go check out my own place,” he said, “see if it’s been damaged.”
“Okay Jerry, catch you later,” Rackenfauz said.
Again, Dr. Che favored Star with a jaunty little wave. Then he exited the workshop.
Star hesitated. She wanted to follow Dr. Che but sensed it could be a dangerous course. Then again, how could anything be accomplished without risk?
She began walking toward the door. Winston came after her.
“Where are you off to, Star?” he asked.
“Oh ... I think I’ll go see if Dr. Che needs anything,” she said. “Why don’t you stay here and help Dr. Rackenfauz clean up?”
Winston looked confused.
“He needs assistance,” Star said. “You want Iri up and running as soon as possible, don’t you?”
“Well ... okay,” Winston said.
“Bye-ee.”
Star blew him a kiss on her way out. Rackenfauz called over from the workbench.
“Shall we get started, young fellow?”
“Certainly, Professor,” Winston said.
55. Though the Haze
The dust storm had strengthened. The RDC was a place of mystery now, its buildings turned into anonymous hulks, its avenues and sidewalks leading off into brown obscurity. Star stood in the parking area outside the main door peering into the hazy vista. Which way to go?
She’d wanted to catch Dr. Che before he left the building, but, unknown to her, he’d taken a side exit shortcut.
On impulse, she turned left and began walking briskly, like Scarlett O’Hara chasing Rhett Butler through her dream fog.