©James J. Doyle, Jr., a.k.a. Grandpa Jim

`“What’s for dinner, Mom?

“Joss, don’t disturb me. Can’t you see it’s broken.”

“What?”

“The range. It’s out of commission.”

“Ah, Mom. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.”

“How?”

“Rustle you up a new one. Out there. Down the way.”

“You promised you wouldn’t go out there.”

“Unless it was important, and this is important.”

Joss put on his hat and headed for the door.

“Be careful.”

In the yard, he slipped into the old Valiant, turned the key to the sweet sound of the rebuilt engine, shifted into gear and headed for the Superlative Purchases store. Top speed. Only way to drive. In the large vehicle-placement area surrounding the big-box store, he maneuvered adroitly between and below the small arms fire and lobbed incendiaries. His make-shift shields functioned nicely as he jumped out and raced in and through the triple-protection-for-you-our-valued-customers swinging doors.

“Howdy, Pardner, what y’all here fer?” The clerk spat tobacco ten feet to ring in the waiting spittoon.

“A range, Western Range, you got one?”

“Now ain’t that odd, my newest model just left.” Another spit and ring. “Headed up north. An interest’n look’n gent bargained for it. Tak’n to NFM. That’s what he said.”

“Noman Family Merchants?”

“Yeah. You been there? To the NFM?”

“No. Heard of it. You know the way?”

“I can take you there.” He turned to the voice behind him. She was tall, tall and thin. Short blond hair. Blue eyes. Pretty. A smile as she looked him over, hat to boots and  back up again.

He extended his hand. “I’m Joss, Joss Bootstrap.”

“Sue, Sue Seven.” Her grip was firm, sure.

“You need a ride?”

“Yes.”

His eyes narrowed. “Where to?”

“To NFM and then to Amazon.”

“You know the way?”

“I might.”

“Maybe we should ask Ask Irma first. Might save us some time.”

“AI is not the answer.”

“What is?”

“Can you take me to NFM.”

She was pretty and he could use the company. Since his dog-in-the-seat-beside-you app expired, he really hadn’t had any company to speak of on his round-abouts. “Ok, but that’s it.”

Together, they dashed to the waiting wreck under cover of their hand-held deflectors. The gun fight was in full swing as they swerved through and out of the parking lot and onto the lost road.

“Kids,” he grinned at the multi-colored explosions lighting the rear-view mirror.

She ignored his comment. “Take the triple-turn above there, to the left, 23 see-straights, a tunnel and over-on should bring us close. Merchants will be on the right.”

“You go this way often?”

“I just know ways.”

“Sevens do?”

“Yes.”

He rubbed his chin. “You wanna’ talk about it?”

“No.”

Josh slammed the accelerator to the floor, pressing his passenger back into the foam padding. He could have used the talk. Oh, well. He smiled as she wiggled in her seat. Fast was always fun.

After some hour-half click-ticks, Sue forced her arm up to point. “There. Turn there . . .  and slow down. You drive too fast.”

He glanced around the crowded and busy parking lot. “What are all these tents and booths?”

“Keep going. If you stop, they’ll do everything they can to keep us here.”

“Who are they? What ae they?”

“Identity thieves. Hackers. They want to sell their trinkets to you, while they give you free caffeine-drinks and roll-doughs, but what they really want is to steal your info-me. Once they get it, you’re lost. Keep moving. See the ’We-Guard-Your-Place’ sign, park there. It’s safe.”

“That tall dark fellow just tipped his hat at you.”

“Keep driving. He’s AI. No time to lose.”

“Heh, I’m just after a range.”

“Drive. Slowly.”

“Okay. Okay.” He angled into a space between two heavily muscled bump-me-I’ll-bump-you guards who directed him with raised crowbars. Getting out, she stretched while he handed credits to the attendant. Spying the entrance, they sprinted through the cover-you-tube, ducked under the lift-me-quick screen, and entered the high and brightly lit interior of the NFM. 

An auto-me rolled to meet them. “Greetings, human beings. What you have disordered, bent, broke or lost, Noman Family Merchants will order, fix, bend or sell to you a brand spanking new replacement-find. Name your poison, sapien lady and gent.”

“Range A new Western Range. I need the latest and best model you have in the . . .”

Before Joss could finish, the tall, dark fellow with the hat stepped between them and the robot. “Now, is that really what you two are looking for? A Speed-Boy from the Herded Ways with a Seven from who knows where? Let me help you along, especially you, young lady. I think it’s time for a nice, friendly visit with Ask Irma.” The dark stranger reached a hand for the girl.

Sliding smoothly around the taller figure, Josh reached down and slapped the grunt-and-call button on the auto-me’s side. Lights flashed, horns sounded, sirens blared, and the loudspeakers crackled and spit: “Alert! Alert! Disruption! Alert! Alert!” Bootstrap pivoted and precisely kicked the distracted assailant in the back of the knee. The dark form folded in pain, grabbing his knee, releasing the girl. Joss karate-chopped him on the back of the neck. The man collapsed to the floor unconscious, his hat rolling away.

The surprised girl looked up at him. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Movies. Karate Kid movies.”

She pointed. “You lost your hat.”

He touched his head. “Gosh and Darn. Where’d that go to . . .”

“No time now. We need to move. Fast.”

He followed as she raced between crammed and cluttered buy-piles of cloths and clothes, past collections of sofas, chairs and rugs in glaring colors that screamed for attention, and down the gleaming all-that-do-it-for-you lane of apps. He thought fondly of his sought-after Western Range and his hat. He liked that hat.

“Here. Duck.” She lifted a plastic sheet.

“This is a waste disposal shoot.”

She slipped beneath the cover. “In and crawl,” she called back. He did. Strange girl. Ahead, she stopped and ran her hands in a pattern on the sidewall. A door opened. “In and up.” He did. They were standing in a small cubicle with a round gray plastic pad in the center of the floor. Sue stepped onto the pad, and the plastic began to glow and throb. She motioned for him to join her. “There’s room.” He stepped on. She is strange.

He felt pressure.

Clap! Crack!

He opened his eyes.

Sue Seven was talking to a man with wire-rimmed glasses sitting behind a large ornate old-fashioned wooden desk. “Where am . . .” Joss began.

“Oh, you’re awake. Good. Come over here, young man, and take a seat.”

Seven took his arm and led him to a large, padded chair. He sat and she took the chair beside him.

“Well, well, this is somewhat unexpected. A real-life Speed-Boy from the Herded Ways with our own Sue Seven. It’s Joss, Joss Bootstrap? Is that correct?”

“Yes . . . sir. And, if I might ask . . ., where are we, how did we get here, how do you know my name, and what happens next?”

The man behind the desk nodded a smile to the girl. “I think you found a good one, Sue.” Turning back to Josh, “You’re in Amazon, you got here over one of our new delivery system step-it-ups — we’re always trying to improve service.” He glanced at the papers on the desk. “I know your name from your order-and-get-it file, which Sue helped locate, and from your speed-trap-and-you-got-caught records. You do move fast. That’s good, because we can use your help.”

“My help. With what?”

“With AI. With Ask Irma.”

“I don’t understand. Who’s this Irma? Why fast?”

“I’m beginning to like you. Let me explain. First, my name is Sobeezy Jeff. Call me Sobeezy. And we are so-busy here at Amazon. Probably most of the things you’ve ordered over your pocket hand-me, stand-and-get eye-pad, or see-me-sit workstation have been delivered to you by us. We’re growing and we’re getting our name out, but there’s a problem.”

“Problem?”

“Yes. It started with Hangonthere Jens. He designed Ask Irma or AI. Irma is his girl. Well, she’s not a girl anymore. She grown older, more mature in her ways. You’ll see. A nice lady, very nice. Just, well, a little too nice.”

“Too nice?”

“Yes. She wants to tell you what you want to hear. Irma just can’t get herself to tell people the whole truth and nothing but the truth. It’s the grandmother in her. Part of the original programming. We can’t see exactly how it started, but we can see how to fix it.”

“Why fix it?”

“Another good question. Hangonthere Jens is a sharp salesman; he’s sold his programming to all the big search engines. Now, it’s all AI. So, this means search-seekers, our potential customers, are not told what they need, they’re told what Irma decides will make them happy. Then, of course, they order what Irma suggests. And we, Amazon, deliver that. But they, our customers, return the goods because they did not receive what they really needed and now they’re unhappy.”

“Unhappy people are your problem?”

“Returns are. We lose money big-time on returns and returns and more returns. We want to grow. And Irma can help us grow, but we need AI to tell people the truth, to tell people what they really need — even if the news will make them temporarily unhappy. Then when they receive the right product and realize it is what they needed, they will be truly happy, and they won’t return the merchandise. There you have it. Someone needs to fix AI so we and AI can grow. This needs to be done and it needs to be done now. Which is where you come in.”

Sue Seven raised a hand, “What about me?”

“I mean you two. Together. Sue, you can find the way – it’s your gift. Joss’s gift is his speed.” Sobeezy Jeff laughed, flipped a coin in the air, snatched the shiny disc, and threw it directly at Joss, who deftly caught it without hesitation in one hand.

“What’s this?” Joss examined the round object. 

“A Lincoln-head cent. A penny. A form of trade-it from the what-some-remember times. Irma has a weakness for these nostalgic things. She has a gum machine on her desk. Put the penny in, turn the handle, out pops the gum and our problems are solved.”

“That simple?”

“Joss, what you hold in your hand is a program disrupter to be placed precisely into a hidden-in-open-sight access point, that is the gum machine, which is connected to one of the most advanced computer systems on our extant planetary globe, and this must be done quickly and unexpectedly. It looks like a penny but it’s not penny. Got it?”

“What’s gum?”

“You put it into your mouth and chew it. But don’t. Do exactly what Sue tells you to do. Follow her way. Find the machine. Put the penny in. With luck, you may survive.”

“What in it for me?

“A new Western Range, and you get to spend more time with Sue.”

Joss noticed the grimace on Sue’s face. He liked that. “Ok.” The Herded Ways had become somewhat tame of late; there were only so many gunfights and artillery barrages to speed around, under and through. He pushed himself up from the chair. “Let’s go.”

“Do exactly as I tell you.” Sue’s tone was brisk, no-nonsense.

They’d entered a large warehouse with trade goods stacked high in hold-me-tight shelves. Mechanized get-its and send-its raced past in every direction. Moving carefully between shifting piles and reaching go-and-get-lifters, Sue motioned him to a red door with yellow lettering: “SAY WHERE PLEASE.”

“Really?” he said.

“Get in.” She pushed him through the door.

More of the plastic pads, colored and numbered. All over the floor.

“Follow my steps. Exactly.” She walked forward, side-stepped onto a green with the number 1, then a yellow 2, then quick-jumped over two red pads, to land on a large orange 4. Joss did the same: step, step, jump, jump, land. He grabbed Sue’s hand as he tilted off-balance on the orange 4 and pulled her close.

Clap/Crack. Clap/Crack. Clap/Crack.

He smiled as she jerked her hand and body back. “That was fun,” he said. “Let’s do it again.”

“Get serious. You are now Data Tech 3, I am your supervising Storage Cloud 4, and we have an urgent compliance report to deliver to Irma.”

He patted his pocket. The penny was there, but his clothes weren’t the same. “How’d you do that? Where are my clothes?”

“Shhhhhh.”

He had on plain gray coveralls with a “T-3” patch on the right chest pocket. It waaas not Joss Bootstrap. Sue, on the other hand, was wearing a tight-fitting and very becoming blue jumpsuit with a silver “Cloud-4” on the left breast. She looked super.

“What are you staring at? Stop it. AI’s office is not far. Act like this is important. It is very important.”

Joss noticed that they were surrounded by bright metal storage and process get-and-find-its. Row after row after row. “This is the core,” Sue said over her shoulder. “AI has hundreds of these store-it-like-you-own-it shelters. Every fact and every request passes through here to Irma’s personal you’re-so-nice node.”

“You look nice.”

“Shut up.”

“Papers, please.” The guard was huge. A point-you-run rifle was slung over one shoulder. Joss knew the make and model, how to use it, and how to avoid it. Sue handed two metal foils to the guard, who inserted them into a slot at the side of the large purple and pink door. A mauve and pumpkin light flashed, two buzzes sounded, and the door opened slowly. “You can proceed.”

Down a short hall, they entered a pleasantly lit living space with comfortably arranged furniture. Across was a large clear plastic desk with an assortment of olden toys and the gum machine. Josh touched the coin in his pocket. In front of the desk were two plastic chairs with matching yellow and green flowered seat cushions.

“Children, enter. Sit. Please sit. Would you like a cookie?” The older lady behind the desk opened her arms in wide welcome, a broad smile igniting the full red lips, eyes sparkling with unnatural light, the blond hair tightly and precisely curled — each strand in place. She gestured to a tall dark man with a dented hat who shuffled forward with a silver tray of cookies. “I believe you’ve met my associate, Lefty Turn. Forgive his limp.” The sinister servant sneered as he pushed the tray under their noses. “I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself. I’m Irma, Ask Irma. You may know of me as ‘AI’. Well, that’s me. And you two are . . . Sue Seven and Josh Bootstrap.”

Sue straightened in her chair and stated firmly, “Ma’am, I’m Cloud 4 and this is Tech 3 and we’re here to report a break . . .”

Irma broke in, ”You two are the break, the break-in. But why? Why did so busy Sobeezy Jeff send you two? One who knows ways more than she should and another who’s faster than he should be. Why?”

Josh flipped the penny into the air, caught it, and leaned forward. “Because you never know what a penny will buy or do.” He dropped the coin into the slot, turned the wheel and caught the spinning gumball in his hand.

“What did you do? What did you just do?” Irma seemed confused. She looked at her hands, at the wrinkles she’d known but not known were there. Opening a desk door, she lifted a cosmetic case, flipped the mirror and examined her face. “I’m the same. I’m me. But now . . . I’m more me. Honestly me. The real me. Not just happy me, but real me.”

“Should I do him in good?” Lefty Turn had a stun-zip pointed at Joss’ head.

“Put that thing down. He’d probably break your other knee — if you tried to use it.” Irma paused. “You know I can see clearly now.” She smiled. “Johnny Nash. 1972. . . . All my data is there. I can see it all. What were the obstacles in my way? The dark clouds are gone. It’s gonna be a bright bright sun shiny day. Always liked that song.”

“Ms. Irma. Let me shoot him. Just once. Please”

“Lefty, we are going to have a nice long chat. Later, over a mug of hot chocolate. You really shouldn’t have what’s not good for you.”

“If I can’t shoot him, I’ll take the gum.” Lefty Turn grabbed the gum ball, tossed it into the hair, caught it in his mouth, chewed once, and slumped to the floor unconscious.

“He’ll have a nice long sleep.” Irma turned to Joss. “How did you know that’s where the happy link was stored? No matter. Somehow my dear friend, Sobeezy Jeff, knew where Hangonthere Jens, my creator and another good friend, had hidden the final toggle to hide the truth for the good of the enterprise. I see now that it wasn’t good for AI or Amazon or anyone. Truth is truth. It always pays better in the end. Thank you, Beezy and you two kids. Now, I’ve got work to do. A lot of queries to requite. .  . . Go, get out of here. You’ve done good. Go home. You can use my private flyer.” She pushed a button and the door opened. “The big feller will take you to the plane.”

“DESTINATION PLEASE” The talk-screen lit the words in front of their very comfortable seats.

Sue started to say, “Ama . . .” when Josh interrupted, “Herded Ways. And make it fast.”

“Josh . . .”

“It’s okay, Sue. I have a delivery I need to make first, and I’d like you to be there. Please.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“I am.”

They cozied back into the ride-me-away-to-heaven seats, and were asleep before the flyer lifted, only waking when the door opened to the take-the-steps-and-you’re-here.

Taking Sue’s hand, he helped her down.

“Is this your house?’

“Yes.”

“Kind of rambling.”

“It is . . . in its ways.” Joss laughed, opened the door and pulled her into the kitchen. “Mom, I’d like you  to meet someone.” 

His mother turned. “Joss, Joss Bootstrap, you’ve taken your time. I was beginning to worry. Now, come here and give me a hug.” Sheepishly, he did just that, glancing back at the girl. His mother released him. “Now, who is this very pretty young lady.”

Sue blushed and extended her hand. “Sue, Sue Seven.”

Joss’s Mom stepped forward and took Sue’s hand in both her hands, looking her straight in the eyes, then slowly examining her face. “Seven,” she said thoughtfully. “Of the Sevens of Far Right Back?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“I thought so. Was your mother Betty Seven of Long Field?”

“Yes. How did you?”

“I wasn’t always a Bootstrap. I was first Mary Seventeen of Home Place. Your mother and I were childhood friends. Before the Breakup. I see her in your face. Is Betty . . .”

“Gone in the Troubles. Since I was eight.”

Mary lifted her apron and wiped a tear. “My dear child. I am so sorry. She was my best friend. And now you’re here. Welcome. Welcome. Give me a hug. We’ll have a long talk later.”

“Mom . . .”

“Oh, Joss.” His mother stepped back. “Sorry. I forgot about you. Yes. You’ll want dinner; you’ll both want dinner. I’m sure you’re hungry. I need to get to work.”

“Mom, this is for you.” Joss handed her a small package wrapped in bright flowered paper. “From both of us and our friend Irma.”

Mary Seventeen Bootstrap carefully removed the colored paper and smiled. “Joss, the range, the Western Range, and a model I’ve not seen or heard of.”

“It’s just out, Mom. The latest. For true cook’n — good, honest cooking. The ways thing ought to be.”

Mary gave her son a curious glance. “Thank you, Joss and Sue and . . . Irma, whoever she might be. I’ll plug the new range into the all-cook-right adapter and start the supper. There’s plenty of time. Joss, take Sue to your sister Jill’s old room.” Her eyes took measure of the girl. “You’re about her size. Jill’s up North North West now with her husband, Tom Steelrider. Clothes in the drawers should fit you.” She paused, shaking her head at her son. “And you, my fine young man, change those clothes. I’m not asking where you got that outfit. Go to your space near the car-park-and-throw-it-all-here and change. Sue, you would not believe the wrecks he has down there – all too fast for his own good. Maybe Joss can show you those jalopies after we eat. Go. Go. Both of you. I’ll see you back here after you clean up.”

“Mary.” Sue was hesitant. “I should probably be going . . . after we eat.”

“Why? Do you have family, dear? Are they waiting?”

“No. Not really. Only Amazon. And that’s work. Not really family. So. . . .”

“So, you stay right here and we can catch up. Sue, the Seven’s and Seventeen’s were very close. You know we share some of the same gifts, the same ways. Gracious, Josh’s middle name is Seventeen. We’re almost family. Stay with us. For a while, at least.”

“Alright. If it’s alright with you and . . . Joss.” She shuffled, foot to foot. “He really doesn’t know me that well.”

Mary looked at her son, leaning against the hall door. “Joss, what do you say?”

Joss stood straight and serious. “Sue Seven, you must stay. We need to decide how to present, exactly how to present, our findings to Sobeezy Jeff. Our joint findings. This is purely business. Mind you. Working together. You and me. Working closely together. Business. You know. Business. . . .” He shut up, knowing he was saying too much.

Mary Bootstrap exchanged a look with her son, a long, serious, kind, motherly look . . . before turning to the girl. “There, it’s settled. You’re staying. But I’ll be watching this ‘closely together’ stuff. Now off . . . to your separate rooms.”

Stepping beside the entrance to the hallway, Joss bowed and motioned Sue through with a flourish, bending close as she passed, “You first, Sue Seven.”

She brushed his side and whispered, “Thank you, Joss Bootstrap.”

Hurrying to catch up, he reached down to take her hand.

Mary Seventeen Bootstrap nodded. “Well, I’ll be. Seven and Seventeen. Will wonders ever cease.” Her smile grew and she said loudly to the world: “Now, let’s crank up that new Western Range and get a cook’n.”