The Robot

THE ROBOT

A Short Story

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"A robot?!?"

"Yes, a robot, Dad.”

Eight-year old Ben Kelly looked at his father and nodded gravely. His father threw up his arms in a theatrical gesture of exasperation.

"A robot! I've heard it all now. Are you listening to this, Nuala?"

"Yes Martin." Nuala's voice replied from the kitchen, uninterested. "He's to build a robot for his homework."

Martin sat down beside Ben on the sofa. He stared straight ahead, his eyes narrowed and he asked in a low voice, "So......uh, what about Owen? Did he say what he was going to do? I mean, about the robot?"

He turned and looked at Ben, a thin smile on his face.

"Dad, if you're asking me what Owen's Dad is going to do, I don't know."

"How long do we - I mean you, how long do you have to build this robot?"

"A week. The whole class’s will be shown on the Open Day next Wednesday. And Mr Long's giving a prize for the best one.” Ben paused. "You don’t have to be at work, do you Dad? It's at ten o'clock. Owen's Dad is taking the whole day off work. You are still coming, aren't you?"

“Mmmm...so Deadhead Delaney's taking the day off, is he? Well, I'll be there, don't you worry son. And you're going to have the best robot in your class. Better than Owen's, that's for sure. Don't you worry about that."

"I'm not worried at all Dad," Ben said, but his father - lost in thought - didn't seem to hear.

**************************************************

Ben twisted and squirmed as his Mum gave him his customary kiss at the school gates the next morning. Wriggling free, he fled across the playground, his enormous school bag swinging from his shoulder. He found Owen where he always did, at the bike rack beside the boiler house.

"Well? Did you tell him ten o’clock?" Ben asked.

"I did. You?"

"Yup."

"And he believed you?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't he?"

"What did he say?"

"Nothing really. He just did that squinty-eyed thing and said that I'd have the best robot in the class. Better than yours."

Owen roared with laughter.

"That's exactly what my Dad said! Well, flipped over."

"What are they like?"

"Embarrassing."

"Big time."

**************************************************

"Martina, where's the laptop? My laptop? Never mind, got it."

Jim Delaney, father of Owen, was a man on a mission. He had seven days to build a robot. Not just any oul robot. Oh no.

Not for Jim Delaney the cereal box covered in tinfoil, tin cans for head and limbs, and a paper plate "control panel" on the front. That was just pathetic. That was for the other parents: the ones who didn't seem to care if their children did well at school or not. No, this robot was going to be the real deal. It had to be. After the Titanic farce, the pyramid fiasco and the volcano debacle - all talk of which had subsequently been banned in the Delaney household - Owen needed something spectacular. Jim, therefore, had to deliver. He had to wipe that supercilious grin off Martin feckin Kelly's fizzog. His robot - Owen's robot - was going to blow Kelly’s away. Oh yes.

He was just sorry he didn't have more time to actually animate the robot. He'd done his research: robots, androids, cyborgs, and the distinctions between them. How the word ‘robot’ had been coined by some playwright, from a Czech word meaning ‘drudgery’. He’d read, and nodded sagely at, Asimov’s Three Rules of Robotics, commenting to Martina at length on how perfectly formed the Rules were. How they ran counter to all preceding science fiction’s depiction of robots whereby they inevitably turned against their creator, Frankenstein-style. (Martina was asleep.) He’d captured all this information for Owen’s written piece, but clearly the model of the robot was where the contest would be won or lost. Every man jack in the class would have cut and pasted the Wikipedia entry for ‘robot’, but they wouldn’t all produce the spectacular robot that Jim would.

He was, however, sorely limited in what he could actually achieve in such a short time. And Martina was keeping a very close eye on the bank accounts after the hideous expense of the misfiring volcano. Miss Rogan, Owen and Ben’s teacher, had been at pains to assure him when they met by chance a few weeks ago that her doctor didn't anticipate any permanent damage to her eyes. Jim had been relieved by the news, but it would take more than that to salve his injured pride. What he needed – really, really needed – was for Owen's (meaning his) next project to beat Ben's (meaning Martin’s). And he was going to make absolutely certain it did just that.

**************************************************

Martin's cursor hung suspended over the 'Proceed to Checkout' button of the electronics megastore's website. He was conflicted. If his order didn't arrive one day earlier than the advised delivery date he wouldn't be able to use it for the robot. He'd have wasted thirty-eight quid and Jim Delaney would be gloating to beat the band. It was only a control panel - a few faux switches, dials and lights - but it looked the business. The cherry on the icing on the cake. Jim wondered if he should take the chance. Surely it would arrive in time; God is good. Although you should never dance in a small boat, as his old Ma used to say.

His mind wandered back to how all this had begun. Owen and Ben had been studying pirates and had been told to draw a treasure map for their homework. Martin had been happy to allow Ben to work away on his own, but even a father would have to admit the end result was less than impressive. Delaney, on the other hand, had commandeered Owen's homework and made the treasure map himself.

"Tea!" he had told Martin, quite unprompted, when the two had met picking up their boys that day. "Tea's your only man for a treasure map. Wash it on all over then pop it in the oven for a while. Look!"

He waved a treasure map in Martin's face. Although it pained him to admit it, Martin thought it looked as if it had been ripped from the clutches of the dead hand of Bluebeard himself. At that exact moment, Martin had sworn that he would never be outdone by Delaney in the homework stakes again.

And he was true to his word - subsequent homeworks were a procession of triumphs: his model of the Titanic, which had made Dunderhead Delaney's effort look like - well, like something an eight year old had made. Then his pyramid (complete with slaves still finishing off one corner), and the volcano. Ah, the volcano. Martin had been a bit pressed for time on that one, and was most concerned Delaney might outdo him. Delaney, however, had been overly ambitious and the result - well, the result had seen Miss Rogan in A&E and Martin in stitches. Three-one to him.

Delaney's overarching ambition on the volcano assignment was a salutary tale, Martin reflected. He wondered about his own robot, standing mute and unfinished in the garage. Seven foot tall, it was constructed from a 120L vegetable oil drum, hot air outlet pipes from their old tumble drier (Martin was pleased now he'd ignored Nuala's appeals for him to take it to the dump) and just about every shiny rivet, bolt, nut, nail, tack and washer that he could lay his hands on. All it needed now was a control panel for the chest.
He pressed "Proceed to Checkout".

**************************************************

Ben rounded the corner of the boiler house and found Owen where he always did.

"When's your Dad getting here?"

"He'll be here in an hour. Ten o'clock, he promised. What about yours?"

"Same. What about the robot?"

"In my bag. Turns out it's like twenty centimetres high." They laughed as Owen patted his massive schoolbag to indicate where the robot was. "I haven't even seen it yet. It's in some sort of pod or something and Dad said I wasn't even to touch it until he got back. He said he had to 'oversee the whole thing'. Where's your Dad's robot?"

"He's bringing it back at ten. On a trailer! It's bigger than he is!!"

They laughed again. The bell sounded. They hefted their bags onto their shoulders and moseyed across the playground to the school buildings.

"Where's our robot then?"

"It's in the hall already. Everyone's is. The judging starts at half nine."

"What are they all like? Did you see any of them?"

"I managed to see a few by sneaking down the side of Miss Rogan that she's got the patch on. But then she turned and saw me and chased me out. Ciara and Olivia's was class. And Alannah and Aoife's looked good but it was mostly covered up."

"What about Jack and Declan's? Did you see theirs? Or Niall and Laura's?"

"No. None of them."

They'd reached the door of the hall where all the children of P5 were queuing with a parent. Or both parents.

Mr O'Neill arrived to open the hall to the assembled throng.

"Where are your Dads today lads?" he asked Ben and Owen. "Not like them to miss this sort of thing?"

"Work sir", they replied in unison. "They'll be here at ten", Ben continued.

Mr O'Neill opened the doors and the crowd shuffled into the hall, where Miss Rogan stood proudly among the display of her class's robots. The children rushed forward in pairs to their respective projects, followed by parents. Ben and Owen stood by the desk on which sat their creation. Mr O'Neill had already begun to study the first robot and talk to its creators, Sino and Evie. Ben and Owen looked at each other and then at their creation with broad smiles on their faces.

**************************************************

At a quarter to ten, two cars arrived, almost simultaneously and by different entrances, at the school car park. In each car, the driver remarked to himself how full the car park was, and it so early. They struggled to find a space. The driver of the car towing the small trailer had to make several circuits before settling on a spot as close to the school doors as he could find. The driver of the other car watched as the little trailer was unhooked and hauled across the car park.

"Jaysus, Kelly's brought the Statue of Liberty", Jim Delaney chuckled before opening his car door and shouting. "Martin! Martin! Is that all the size of her? O'Neill won't be able to see it, never mind judge it." Jim thought of his own - Owen's - 10 inch robot and thought the better of further ribbing. He raced to reach the door of the hall to hold it open for Martin. As they arrived at the door at the same moment they could hear from inside, quite distinctly, the sound of applause.

An identical mix of confusion and horror swept their faces as each pulled a door open, to a full hall and the conclusion of a prize giving ceremony.

**************************************************

Ben and Owen stood by their desk with Martin and Jim. On their robot's left leg, which was made from a tin can, was a bright yellow rosette emblazoned "3rd Place".

"3rd place, then?" Jim asked redundantly.

"Yep", said Ben. "Jack and Declan won, Niall and Laura came second. It was brilliant working in twos, being able to do it in class, everybody says so. What do you think of the control panel, Dad?"

"Aye, it looks great", Jim said.

"Bet you can't guess what it is Dad - we painted it silver. What do you think it was before?"

"Was it a paper plate?" Jim asked as he touched it, and it fell from the robot's chest to the ground at their feet. Ben and Owen looked at each other and laughed. Martin and Jim laughed too, but unlike their sons could not look one another in the eye.

END.