Tuesday, at eight in the morning, Greg and Vega stepped back out of their closet in the garage. Their footfalls echoed off the concrete floor as they walked toward the imposing, yet compact machine. The war robot hung limp, a soldier ready to be brought back to life. On the workbench, the empty parts box sat next to a fancy folder with a hand written note lightly attached to the top.
"His resume," Vega said to Greg. "And instructions on activation... Looks like a switch under his jaw..."
Greg searched with his fingers and the robot came to life. With fluid motions, the shoulders rotated and head unit rocked side to side. The base of the robot swiveled as it came to face Greg and Vega. The pair stood side by side, gazing up at the product of their work. A nondescript voice came from unseen speakers as the unformatted robot addressed its owners.
"I have been authorized two controllers. Please state your names so I may determine your roles."
"I am Professor Vance. Please refer to me as Vega."
"Professor Vance is an authorized user. I will refer to you as Vega," The flat voice of the war robot said. Then slowly turned his head toward Greg.
"I am Tom Gregory," Greg said, following Vega's lead. "Please call me Greg."
"Tom Gregory is an authorized user. I will refer to you as Greg. Would you like to select a name for myself?"
"Yes..." Vega said. "I never considered needing to personalize a name for one of you... Help us out here. Do you have any suggestions?"
"This body is a N.V. Signature Combat Model, part of a special production by Newton Vaniteo Signature Robotics of Canada. This unit was serial number 867-23. Should I describe my intelligence operating system?"
"Greg?"
"Let's just call him N.V." Greg said.
"Short and easy. I like it. Your new designation is Envy. Now, since a war robot is not very feminine, let's give you a male voice. Cycle through some options."
"Excellent Vega, I shall do just that," Envy said, jumping to different artificial voice options. "As per your request, my designer has also included several programs for me to draw from. These programmed skills have been incorporated into my decision processes and creativity. I also have language skills, which..."
"Stop," Greg interrupted. "I like that one. It reminds me of a super hero's voice. It's just like a cartoon I used to watch as a kid."
Vega nodded and the robot adopted the voice. The trio talked for a while longer, making clear the freedom and latitude that Envy was afforded and expectations of action in certain circumstances.
Greg was ecstatic. He felt like he was helping shape the personality of a real person.
Vega was aware of the hard-hitting punches this model of robots was capable of, even without all of its combat equipment attached. He was happy to see the younger man alight with excitement interacting with their new companion and experiencing none of the wariness he felt being around the machine of destruction.
Outside the garage, across the street, Binno Terrace stood leaning against a street wall, smoking an old fashioned cigarette. He had been indecisive throughout the night over coming back to the garage. Should he greet the professor when he came back to pick up the robot? He knew that lady luck favored the bold and that sometimes he had to show some people how serious he was about opportunities. The professor seemed like the type of person who played loose with the rules and would be receptive to someone showing initiative.
The professor and his grad student were a strange pair, Binno thought as he leaned. It really was a stroke of luck that they had found him. And the way they had gotten the parts from Asia over night was even more surprising. An antique robot to referb, no less! He had created more of a work of art than just a simple brain construction. Was it the right decision to come back and show off his work?
The skill requirements that were requested were quite off the wall! Binno wondered to what purpose a chairmen of a major American university would want with a perfectly preserved antique war mechanical. Why infiltrator programming? Perhaps a gift?
The conflict between Binno's need for an income and the chance at a once in a lifetime opportunity bothered him. Was this too good to be true?
Binno finished his smoke and glanced at his watch. It was twenty minutes past the hour. Why hadn’t the two arrived yet? Binno at least expected a shipping company to arrive, put up the main door and begin to load the bot into a crate. Had he heard voices inside earlier, or was it just his imagination?
His interest could not be held back any longer. Binno stubbed out his butt and crossed the street.
He entered the side door, the same way he had done the previous two days, while he worked to give the tin man a brain. He pulled the door open and took a step inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light.
The robot was gone.
He crossed the room and walked to where his project had sat. Sitting on the ground, on its narrow edge, was a thick gold coin. Binno swiped it up, examining the precious metal that was presumably left for him, and then around the room. They were gone, no trace of the men who had appeared in his life and commissioned him to fix up their robot; gone without leaving a fingerprint.
"Destination?"
"You can roll off our feet now, Envy," Greg said.
The robot complied, removing himself from the toes of Greg and Vega. "I am not familiar with my surroundings. Where have we gone?" Envy asked.
"We are inside a fold, created by this time traveling device, currently outside the flow of time. We are traveling to our next destination, where you will assist us in the disabling of the internal facility security. We will also need you to translate and operate machinery. I don't know if they will have wireless access or you will have to use an IR port, but infiltration will be up to you. It is critical that we leave no trace of our presence. None of us will move until you give the all clear, so be swift about it. Understood?" Vega asked.
"Absolutely, Vega," Envy responded with no further questions.
"It's funny how a machine can accept being told, 'Hey, we are time traveling right now,' with no questions. Then when you tell me the same thing, I can't stop asking questions," Greg said to Vega. "So what are we doing this time anyway?"
Vega winked at Greg and spoke to the coin.
"Our next destination will be at the following exact location: latitude- sixty-five point zero seven two one three zero, longitude- eighteen point nine eight four two seven five," Vega rattled off, eyes remembering, up and to the left. "The time will be two A.M. local, December twenty-fifth, 2054."
"I thought you said always jump forward to avoid stepping on yourself!" Greg protested.
"Placing you in five seconds."
"Sometimes you have to break the rules," Vega said back, holding a still position in anticipation of the insertion. "But, I know exactly where I'll be, so there will be no problems."
The five seconds elapsed, keeping Greg from pursuing the leading statement. His body froze and he closed his eyes as the coin placed them.
The three time travelers dropped to the rubber-matt floor of a laboratory.
CHAPTER 17