Once the seven of us left the PTATL, we entered a long, narrow hallway with many branching corridors. Each of the corridors were labeled alphabetically from A to X. I was ready to go exploring the base, but Ravenstone made us wait so that she could arrange a council meeting. A few minutes later she returned with news.
“What’s the current status?” asked Freddie.
“The council won’t be able to meet until later in the afternoon,” she replied. “Until then, feel free to do whatever you want. I’ll call Skyva before the meeting.”
“Sounds great,” said Rys.
“Not you,” added Ravenstone, grabbing Rys by his right arm. “Hyro wanted to run some tests to see if you’ve really broken free of your programming or whether you’re just a faker.”
“Please don’t,” whimpered Rys, tears forming in his eyes.
“They’re not going to hurt you,” I told him, trying to be reassuring. “They’re not actually going to hurt him, right?” I whispered to Skyva.
“Nah, they’ll just run some diagnostics on his arm,” she answered.
“Good,” I said. “See you later, Rys.”
“Alright,” he sighed, walking off with Ravenstone. The three of us watched as they went to Sector M. Once they were out of sight, we talked about what to do while the council arrived.
“Why don’t we take Patrick around the city?” suggested Freddie.
“Sure,” I replied. “I’ve been waiting to explore the future since we got here.”
“Where should we take Patrick first?” asked Freddie.
“Let's go to Mark-Mart first,” said Skyva. “I think you'll like it.”
“What’s Mark-Mart?” I asked. “Is it like the futuristic Wal-Mart?”
“Sort of,” said Freddie. “At Mark-Mart, you can buy pretty much anything you can think of.”
“Cool,” I replied. “Can I get some better clothes there?”
“Of course you can,” said Freddie, looking at my legs. “Those breeches look really uncomfortable.”
My friends led me down Sector H and finally into Sector H-1 where the Protectors kept their vehicles. Inside I saw about fifty hovering speeders and massive hangar doors. There were several that caught my eye, but there was one in particular that I instantly loved. It was a six seater convertible with a sleek green and blue paint job, and looked like it could go 300 miles per hour. I couldn't wait to take it out for a drive, but instead Skyva took a different speeder (and it wasn't even cool). We drove into town and parked in front of what looked like a massive store.
Along the way I noticed everyone driving down the road in speeders instead of standard cars. I wondered if the wheel was finally obsolete. Many people weren’t even driving, they were just lying back in their seats while their speeders were set on automatic pilot. The highest speed limit sign I saw went up to 120 miles per hour. It stunned me that after all this time America was still using the imperial system, but I was okay with that. It was nice that there was at least something I could still relate to.
“Welcome to Mark-Mart,” explained Freddie as we got out of the speeder and walked up to the store. We went inside and were met by a tall Scottish man.
“Hello there, customers,” the man greeted us at the entrance. “I’m Mark and welcome to my store. Let me show you around. We’re having our Christmas sale, and I hope you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Mark led me on a tour around the store, and sure enough Freddie was right. You can buy pretty much anything. They had speeders, food, wrist implants, clothes, weapons, animals, and almost anything else you could think of. It was like having several major retail stores rolled into one.
“I take it you're from the past,” said Mark.
“You‘d be right, Mark,” I replied.
“I’m sure you know about Wal-Mart,” he told me. “Well, all the big corporations of the past were close to bankruptcy. So I bought them all! The companies you would call Wal-Mart, Microsoft, Google, Apple, Disney, McDonald’s, and many more are all mine now. They all exist together under Mark, Incorporated.”
“Hey, Mark, if there are Mark-Marts all over the world, how come you just so happen to be at this random location?” I asked.
“Because I’m not the real Mark,” he answered. “I’m just a hologram. Every Mark-Mart has at least one HoloMark. In reality I’m back in my homeland of Markistan.” My first impulse was to put my hand through Mark, so I did. Sure enough, it went right through the hologram. Stunned at how advanced holograms were, we moved on through the store. Eventually the HoloMark left us and went back to the entrance to help incoming customers.
I found the clothing aisle and picked out some new clothes to replace mine from the 1600s. I settled on a black and light blue striped long-sleeved shirt, black pants, a dark blue jacket, a pair of black boots, and a belt with a holster built into it. When I went to try them on, I noticed that the fitting room had a receptacle labeled “Out With The Old.” After I tried on my new clothes (which fit perfectly), I tossed my breeches and beige shirt in “Out With The Old,” and to my surprise they were instantly incinerated. A screen then popped up reading “Please Scan Wrist Here To Pay”. I panicked as I stood in the small room without a payment method.
“Freddie?” I cried from the dressing room. “Can you come pay?” A few moments later Freddie knocked on the door and I let him inside. He pressed his wrist against the payment screen, which brought up a message that read “Purchased.”
The total cost of my new clothes was only fifteen dollars. I thought everything would’ve been mega-expensive due to inflation, but Freddie explained that the global economy was still recovering from the Great Depression II of 2898. Afterwards, we met back up with Skyva who had been waiting for us at the front of the store. We were starting to get hungry, so I asked Skyva for suggestions on where to go for lunch.
“Well, Patrick,” she started, “there’s one restaurant I think you would like. My uncle owns it and he makes some of the best food I’ve ever eaten in my life. It’s called Dannel’s Diner and most everything on the menu is great, but whatever you do, don’t get the chicken nuggets.”
I didn't even feel like questioning the chicken nuggets after all the bizarre things I’d seen today, so I trusted her and we went out to lunch. We arrived five minutes later at a small but busy diner reminiscent of something from my time mixed with a space age aesthetic. I walked in and was immediately engulfed by the smell of fresh food and the sight of friendly people. A jazz band called the Rhyvens was playing catchy music in the corner which made my feet tap. Everyone greeted us the moment Skyva walked in. A robot waitress hovered up to us to take us to our seats.
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“Welcome to Dannel’s Diner, home of the best burgers in the world,” said the robot sassily. “Wait! Skyva Ravenstone, is that you?” the robot asked.
“Yes, PotBot,” sighed Skyva. “I helped build you, remember? I need to see…”
“Hmm, I don’t remember being built!” PotBot said sarcastically. “Anyway Skyva Ravenstone, may I take you to your seat?”
“PotBot,” said Skyva slowly and firmly, “tell Dan to come out.”
“Right way, Skyva Ravenstone!” replied PotBot. It hovered toward the kitchen and yelled, “Some people want to see you, boss! One of ‘em calls herself ‘Skyva Ravenstone’ and the others are Protectors by the looks of ‘em.”
A tall, burly man came out of the kitchen and exclaimed, “Skyva! Is that you?”
“Hello, Uncle Dan,” greeted Skyva with a big smile.
“I see you’ve got some company,” he said, shaking my hand, but scowling at Freddie, who cleared his throat and said nothing.
“Hello, Mr. Dan,” I greeted him with confidence. “I’m Patrick Robinson, but you can call me Patrick.”
“Well, hello, Patrick!” Dan greeted me. He gave Skyva and me a massive hug and led the three of us to our booth.
“Would you like a glass of Dr. Pepper?” asked PotBot, coming over to our table.
“Yes, please,” I said to PotBot. She then proceeded to take our orders: I ordered a large cheeseburger and fries, Skyva ordered a chocolate milkshake and something called the “Everything Tacos” which had every socially acceptable meat, and Dan ordered a footlong hot dog with tater tots and a drink called Big Yellow. Freddie was about to order, when Dan interrupted him.
“Let me guess, ‘Freddie,’” torted Dan rudely. “You want some oil and machine fuel for your robot parts? Maybe a small bowl of tap water to sustain what’s left of your human organs?”
“Um, no,” answered a very offended Freddie. “I just want pepperoni pizza and a Coca-Cola.”
“Order up!” declared PotBot, memorizing our order and hovering back to the kitchen.
“Dan,” I asked, “do you have something against Freddie?”
“Well, you see Patrick,” he began to explain, “it’s because your friend Freddie—”
But before Dan could tell me why he hated Freddie, five Red Mune agents walked into the diner. Judging by the marking on their armor, it didn’t take long to figure out that some of them were the same agents who attacked us in the park.
“Hello there,” hissed the leading agent. “I have no desire for violence, but there will be if necessary. There is someone in this establishment whom we want.” Another agent presented a hologram of me to the trembling customers. “Hand him over, and nobody will need to experience pain.”
Luckily, Dan came to my defense. He stood up from our booth and punched the lead agent’s mask, then the entire diner erupted. People ran around screaming or started fighting the agents, and amidst all the chaos Dan led us to his office. I was almost there, when one of the agents grabbed me by the ankle. I kicked the hand with every ounce of strength I had, but it was no use. I looked back at my attacker to see one of the agents pulling me towards him, with his flashbeamer pointed directly at my head.
“What are you gonna do, warm me up with your magnifying glass?” I torted, trying to sound brave.
“Oh no,” he chuckled in a raspy voice, no doubt smiling sinisterly under his mask. “I’ve got other intentions.” He switched the mode of his flashbeamer and laughed mechanically. “I’m gonna roast you like a turkey!”
As the agent laughed, I swallowed a massive lump in my throat. Luckily, Freddie’s outstretched cyborg hand grabbed me by my shirt collar and brought me to safety just as the agent was about to turn on the flashbeamer. Once my friends helped me to my feet, we made a mad sprint into Dan’s office and locked the door.
“Patrick,” Dan asked, “are you alright?”
“I’m fine, Dan,” I started. “But we need to evacuate the diner. Announce it over the intercom for everybody to leave at once!”
Dan went to a microphone and yelled, “Attention everybody! This is Dannel Ravenstone telling everyone to evacuate the premises at once! The police will be called to handle the situation.” We watched the cameras and saw the people evacuating, but we weren't safe yet. The agents were coming for the office.
As we were planning our escape method, PotBot came in from the side entrance with our food. We knew that the robot had probably led our enemies directly to us.
“Served!” she cried.
“Shut up, PotBot!” hissed Dan.
“Oh no,” whispered Freddie. “That stupid robot’s going to lead the Red Mune agents right to us!” Freddie locked the door quickly.
“And whose fault is that?” scoffed PotBot. “All I’ve done is work and slave to bring you food and all you care about are some stupid agents!”
“Well,” I said to Dan and Skyva, “It looks like your robot has doomed all of us...Hey, wait a minute! Skyva, did you and your uncle intend for PotBot to be sassy?” I asked.
“As a matter of fact, we did,” she replied. “I feel like we should’ve dialed down her sass-o-meter, though.”
“Actually,” I began, “dial it to the absolute maximum and send her out.”
Figuring out my plan, Dan shut off the robot, opened her head, and turned her sass-o-meter to the maximum setting. He turned her back on, and yelled, “Get us some to-go boxes, robot!”
“Yes, my apparent master who built me,” PotBot obnoxiously snapped. “I guess I’ll get your stupid to-go boxes because I’ve got nothing better to do. Cyborg, unlock my door.”
Freddie unlocked the door as PotBot hovered out of the office and into the kitchen. We all watched the security cameras to see the situation between the Red Mune agents and PotBot.
The agents were several feet away from the front door when PotBot caught up to them. They tried to push past her, but she wouldn't budge. She eventually punched one of the agents in the stomach and head butted another. But no matter how many times they tried to hit her, she dodged their every attack. PotBot guided the agents into the kitchen and started throwing plates and silverware at them. They no longer cared about me. Their every intent was to kill PotBot.
“Hey, baddies,” screamed PotBot, “ya thirsty for more pain?” The agents sprinted toward the robot. But just as she was about to throw more projectiles at her newfound enemies, they grabbed her by the arms and started beating her circuitless. But as she was being torn into scrap, she started screaming. I had never heard a truly blood curdling scream, but the final whine of PotBot was the most disturbing sound I had ever heard in my fifteen years of life. While she wailed in agony, five more PotBots hovered into the kitchen.
“You broke our leader!” The PotBots chanted at the agents. “Now we shall break all of you!” The agents and the robots fought in the kitchen, destroying appliances, knocking over containers, and using anything in sight as a weapon.
A few moments later, the police showed up to rescue us. They searched the diner and found us in the office. They burst through the door and we exited into the dining area.
“Is everybody alright?” asked an officer.
“We’re fine, sir,” I answered. “But there’s a situation in the kitchen.”
The officer led us into the kitchen, where we saw the robots tying all the Red Mune agents together and forcing them to eat disgusting looking stew made from week-old perishable food and trash.
“Please!” begged the agents at the sight of the officers. “Take us away! Arrest us! Anything but this!”
“There have never been any Red Mune attacks in Rolland before this,” said the officer. “We’ll take these five off your hands.”
“Just a minute, officer,” I said, approaching the agent with three mechanical limbs. “I’ve got some unfinished business.” Skyva started recording the scene for the council to see as I interrogated the agent.
“Where is Emily Marie Robinson?” I shouted, pointing his flashbeamer at his face. “Where did you take my sister?!”
“I’ll never tell,” cackled the agent, apparently a woman.
“Patrick,” Freddie suggested, “their arms contain recordings of their latest actions.”
“Thanks, Freddie,” I said. “It looks like she doesn’t have to tell us anything after all. Would you like to do the honors?”
“With pleasure,” smiled my friend. He held down three buttons on the agent’s arm and it disconnected. Freddie held it up in the air and Skyva ended her recording.
“It looks like our work here is done,” I said boldly. “Officers, do your duty.”
The four of us watched as the five agents were taken away. Afterward, we went back into the dining area and finally ate our lunch.
“You were right, Skyva.” I said with my mouth full. “This really is the best burger I've ever eaten. By the way, what’s wrong with the chicken nuggets?”
“Don’t ask,” she answered.