Battle of the Bots by C. J. Richards

Author:C. J. Richards
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

“This will do splendidly,” Micron said. “Let’s see if we can get it started.” He hopped into the driver’s seat and hot-wired the ignition. Soon the engine hummed to life. “Whaddya want?” said a grouchy voice. It sounded like a disgruntled old man who’d been woken up from an afternoon nap. “Can’t a car get any rest around here?”

“It’s one of the old GRO-78-X Personality smart cars,” Jackbot said. “They were programmed with different character traits, so you felt like the car was part of the family.”

“Well, where do you want to go?” said the car peevishly. “Come on, I haven’t got all day.”

“The old Termite Heights bug spray factory,” Micron said.

“What do you want to go there for?” said the car. “That’s a bad area, you know. Nothing but thieves and vagabonds!”

“Something tells me Otto would love this car,” George said.

Micron slammed the door. “Come on, everybody in!”

The Caretaker rolled up and hit the rear bumper.

“Hey! Watch the paint job, you big galoot!” said the car.

“I am too large,” said the Caretaker. “Therefore, I am unable to enter the vehicle.”

“You’ll have to stay here then,” said Micron. “Ready to go, George?”

“Hold on,” said Jackbot. He tugged George’s sleeve and drew him aside. “If we go without the Caretaker for protection, Micron could turn on us at any moment. Do you really think you can trust him?”

“Well . . .” George began.

“Let me answer that,” Micron said from the car.

He must have ears like a bat! George thought.

“I’m about to take you to my top-secret hideout. A place that no one else—and I mean no one else—knows about. I’m trusting you. The least you can do is return the favor.”

George looked from Micron to Jackbot and back again.

“We need that part,” he pleaded to his robot friend. “It’s my only hope.”

Jackbot nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Fantastic!” Micron said, clapping his hands. George and Jackbot climbed into the back seat and closed the door. “To Termite Heights, please!” Micron said to the car.

“Whatever,” the car said as it pulled out of the junkyard. “It’s your funeral.”

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