she went on, “then we might have to move again.” Her eyes found me in the gloom of the garage. “And I’d kind of like to stay.”
I followed Sophie through the doorway into a vast marble-tiled room. An oriental rug stretched across thefloor at our feet. A staircase curved upward in front of us. The room was bigger than an average house. And this was just the entryway.
“May I fetch you a refreshing beverage?” Stanley asked.
“Uh, sure.” Milton glanced over at Sophie, and when she nodded, he turned back to the robot. “That sounds great.”
“What would you like, sir?”
“Do you have Dr Pepper?”
“Affirmative. How many would you like?”
“Umm … how many can I have?”
“Please allow me one moment while I compute your request.”
For a couple of seconds, the only sound coming out of the robot was a low rumble. Milton stared at him, his eyes beaming.
“A human life-form of your size and weight is capable of consuming 314.65 liquid ounces of Dr Pepper in a two-hour period,” Stanley said. “That equals 26.22 cans. You should be warned that evidence from medical studies has shown that such excessive overconsumption of fructose-based carbonated water could result in severe illness and—”
“I’ll take twenty-six cans, please,” Milton said.
I elbowed Milton.
“Er—actually, I’ll just take one.”
“Me too,” I said.
“Just water for me,” Sophie said.
“Very well,” said Stanley. He bowed mechanically, then strolled jerkily across the room.
“We’re still getting moved in,” Sophie said, pointing at a pile of cardboard boxes. “Stanley’s in the process of unpacking everything.”
“So,” Milton said, “is your … er … dad actually … here?”
“Yeah,” Sophie said.
“Now?”
“I think so.”
Milton looked like he couldn’t decide whether to scream or faint. “Cool,” he said.
Sophie led us deeper into the house. We passed through a living room, a sitting room, a solarium, a dining room, another living room, a kitchen, a library, a third living room, and several other rooms that didn’t seem to have any purpose at all.
One room looked like some kind of art gallery. Oil paintings hung on the walls, encased in flamboyant gold frames, all showing portraits of the same person: Captain Justice.
Another room was filled with merchandise. Boxes of cereal, shelves of tennis shoes, watches, T-shirts, toys. It took me a moment to realize what all the products had in common: They were all endorsed by Captain Justice.It was the room where he displayed all his merchandise deals. It seemed like a weird thing for a person to have in his own house. On the other hand, I supposed that Captain Justice had to do
something
with all those rooms.
I picked up a box of Frosted Fuel Flakes with Captain Justice’s picture on it. The box was empty. So was a nearby box of microwavable burritos. On the label was a picture of Captain Justice wearing a sombrero. The text underneath read:
You can be a hero too with Señor Loco’s Three-Minute Mexican Feast!
This must’ve been what the Cafeteria Girls had been talking about. Shelf after shelf of empty boxes. All with Captain Justice plastered across the label.
At the far end of the room was a life-sized cardboard cutout of Captain Justice. He looked just like he did in real life. He was grinning his perfect grin, showing off his perfect teeth and his perfect hair. A shiny blue cape hung around his muscular neck. One hand was giving a thumbs-up, while the other was clutching a stick of beef jerky. Beneath him was a label:
Justice Jerky ®
A super way to feel good and keep fit!!!
We walked into the next room, and there was Captain Justice again. Except this time, it wasn’t a cardboard cutout.
It was the real thing.
He wasn’t wearing his usual silver and blue uniform. Instead, he was dressed in a silver tracksuit and matching headband.
The room was full of bulky machinery that looked designed to inflict some
I followed Sophie through the doorway into a vast marble-tiled room. An oriental rug stretched across thefloor at our feet. A staircase curved upward in front of us. The room was bigger than an average house. And this was just the entryway.
“May I fetch you a refreshing beverage?” Stanley asked.
“Uh, sure.” Milton glanced over at Sophie, and when she nodded, he turned back to the robot. “That sounds great.”
“What would you like, sir?”
“Do you have Dr Pepper?”
“Affirmative. How many would you like?”
“Umm … how many can I have?”
“Please allow me one moment while I compute your request.”
For a couple of seconds, the only sound coming out of the robot was a low rumble. Milton stared at him, his eyes beaming.
“A human life-form of your size and weight is capable of consuming 314.65 liquid ounces of Dr Pepper in a two-hour period,” Stanley said. “That equals 26.22 cans. You should be warned that evidence from medical studies has shown that such excessive overconsumption of fructose-based carbonated water could result in severe illness and—”
“I’ll take twenty-six cans, please,” Milton said.
I elbowed Milton.
“Er—actually, I’ll just take one.”
“Me too,” I said.
“Just water for me,” Sophie said.
“Very well,” said Stanley. He bowed mechanically, then strolled jerkily across the room.
“We’re still getting moved in,” Sophie said, pointing at a pile of cardboard boxes. “Stanley’s in the process of unpacking everything.”
“So,” Milton said, “is your … er … dad actually … here?”
“Yeah,” Sophie said.
“Now?”
“I think so.”
Milton looked like he couldn’t decide whether to scream or faint. “Cool,” he said.
Sophie led us deeper into the house. We passed through a living room, a sitting room, a solarium, a dining room, another living room, a kitchen, a library, a third living room, and several other rooms that didn’t seem to have any purpose at all.
One room looked like some kind of art gallery. Oil paintings hung on the walls, encased in flamboyant gold frames, all showing portraits of the same person: Captain Justice.
Another room was filled with merchandise. Boxes of cereal, shelves of tennis shoes, watches, T-shirts, toys. It took me a moment to realize what all the products had in common: They were all endorsed by Captain Justice.It was the room where he displayed all his merchandise deals. It seemed like a weird thing for a person to have in his own house. On the other hand, I supposed that Captain Justice had to do
something
with all those rooms.
I picked up a box of Frosted Fuel Flakes with Captain Justice’s picture on it. The box was empty. So was a nearby box of microwavable burritos. On the label was a picture of Captain Justice wearing a sombrero. The text underneath read:
You can be a hero too with Señor Loco’s Three-Minute Mexican Feast!
This must’ve been what the Cafeteria Girls had been talking about. Shelf after shelf of empty boxes. All with Captain Justice plastered across the label.
At the far end of the room was a life-sized cardboard cutout of Captain Justice. He looked just like he did in real life. He was grinning his perfect grin, showing off his perfect teeth and his perfect hair. A shiny blue cape hung around his muscular neck. One hand was giving a thumbs-up, while the other was clutching a stick of beef jerky. Beneath him was a label:
Justice Jerky ®
A super way to feel good and keep fit!!!
We walked into the next room, and there was Captain Justice again. Except this time, it wasn’t a cardboard cutout.
It was the real thing.
He wasn’t wearing his usual silver and blue uniform. Instead, he was dressed in a silver tracksuit and matching headband.
The room was full of bulky machinery that looked designed to inflict some
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