Read Online Date Night on Union Station by E. M. Foner - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: E. M. Foner
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children, other than Paul I mean?” asked another girl without waiting to be picked.
“I, no, Paul’s it right now.”
“Don’t you LIKE children?” asked a different little boy.
“Uh, yeah. Of course I like children,” answered Joe, who was beginning to sense that the kids were circling like sharks, or maybe piranhas. “My dog likes children too.”
“Ooh, you have a dog? What’s his name? How big is he? Has he bitten any robbers?”
“His name is Beowulf, but I call him Killer. He’s about as big as I am, but he’s shaped differently. He hasn’t bitten any robbers because they run like crazy as soon as they see him.”
“Why didn’t you bring the dog with you?” asked a little girl.
“When I’m here, he has to guard the junkyard,” Joe explained.
“Oh,” the children all chorused in disappointment. A few of them eyed Joe speculatively, as if they were thinking of requesting a personnel change, but apparently that fell outside the guidelines of proper conduct for a parental show-and-tell. Joe noticed again that some of the little robots had a pincer raised, so he pointed in the direction of a couple of them and said, “Yes? The little robot, er, Stryx in front?”
“If you’re in the recycling business, why do people call it junk?” asked the little robot in the squeakiest, most mechanical voice Joe had ever heard coming from a Stryx.
“Ah, that’s a good question. I guess we call it junk because when it comes to me, it’s because nobody wants it any more, or they don’t want to spend the money and time to make it into something they could easily sell. I usually buy stuff for the scrap value, what I can sell the materials for after taking stuff apart, but sometimes I’ll pay more or barter for something that I can fix up.”
“Thank you,” the little robot responded, and Joe pointed to the Stryx behind it.
“How do you ensure that the ships and equipment you buy aren’t stolen?”
“Oh, uh, that’s a good question too,” Joe replied automatically to gain time. “I, uh, well, for entire ships, I always check with the station library to see if they’re listed as stolen, but most of the galactic civilizations don’t code the individual parts, so if the markings on the hull are painted over and the ship’s transponder is gone, I’m sort of in the dark. But you have to remember that the salvage value is pretty low for most of this stuff and there’s not a lot of local demand, so it doesn’t make sense for criminals and pirates to steal things just to sell them for scrap.
“Thank you,” the second little robot responded, and Joe reluctantly pointed at the third.
“Do you buy some things without knowing what they are?”
“All the time,” he answered, relieved to get a softball question. “Some of the junk I get has been in space so long that even the station library doesn’t recognize the language stamped on the parts. And sometimes I get stuff that comes from outside of Stryx space. Junk has a way of moving around.”
“But what if you cut into a gravitational vortex mine leftover from the Founding War, or opened a tri-folded universe that sucked in the whole station, or even the whole galaxy?” the little Stryx followed up. All the children ooh’ed again, and Joe would have sworn that the little robots sat up a little straighter as well.
“I, uh, I try to be careful,” Joe answered lamely. “Besides, anybody who could seal up a galaxy-eating thingy in a can probably wouldn’t lose track of it, and I doubt it would be anything I could cut open either. Little children, er, young Stryx, shouldn’t worry about things like that. It can give you nightmares.”
“Well, that’s time,” Paul exclaimed, coming to Joe’s rescue. “If anybody wants to come meet Beowulf, just ask me later and I’ll bring him out to the park.”
“Thank you, Mr. Joe,” the children chorused.
“Thank you, kids,” Joe replied, giving a weak wave and practically running
“I, no, Paul’s it right now.”
“Don’t you LIKE children?” asked a different little boy.
“Uh, yeah. Of course I like children,” answered Joe, who was beginning to sense that the kids were circling like sharks, or maybe piranhas. “My dog likes children too.”
“Ooh, you have a dog? What’s his name? How big is he? Has he bitten any robbers?”
“His name is Beowulf, but I call him Killer. He’s about as big as I am, but he’s shaped differently. He hasn’t bitten any robbers because they run like crazy as soon as they see him.”
“Why didn’t you bring the dog with you?” asked a little girl.
“When I’m here, he has to guard the junkyard,” Joe explained.
“Oh,” the children all chorused in disappointment. A few of them eyed Joe speculatively, as if they were thinking of requesting a personnel change, but apparently that fell outside the guidelines of proper conduct for a parental show-and-tell. Joe noticed again that some of the little robots had a pincer raised, so he pointed in the direction of a couple of them and said, “Yes? The little robot, er, Stryx in front?”
“If you’re in the recycling business, why do people call it junk?” asked the little robot in the squeakiest, most mechanical voice Joe had ever heard coming from a Stryx.
“Ah, that’s a good question. I guess we call it junk because when it comes to me, it’s because nobody wants it any more, or they don’t want to spend the money and time to make it into something they could easily sell. I usually buy stuff for the scrap value, what I can sell the materials for after taking stuff apart, but sometimes I’ll pay more or barter for something that I can fix up.”
“Thank you,” the little robot responded, and Joe pointed to the Stryx behind it.
“How do you ensure that the ships and equipment you buy aren’t stolen?”
“Oh, uh, that’s a good question too,” Joe replied automatically to gain time. “I, uh, well, for entire ships, I always check with the station library to see if they’re listed as stolen, but most of the galactic civilizations don’t code the individual parts, so if the markings on the hull are painted over and the ship’s transponder is gone, I’m sort of in the dark. But you have to remember that the salvage value is pretty low for most of this stuff and there’s not a lot of local demand, so it doesn’t make sense for criminals and pirates to steal things just to sell them for scrap.
“Thank you,” the second little robot responded, and Joe reluctantly pointed at the third.
“Do you buy some things without knowing what they are?”
“All the time,” he answered, relieved to get a softball question. “Some of the junk I get has been in space so long that even the station library doesn’t recognize the language stamped on the parts. And sometimes I get stuff that comes from outside of Stryx space. Junk has a way of moving around.”
“But what if you cut into a gravitational vortex mine leftover from the Founding War, or opened a tri-folded universe that sucked in the whole station, or even the whole galaxy?” the little Stryx followed up. All the children ooh’ed again, and Joe would have sworn that the little robots sat up a little straighter as well.
“I, uh, I try to be careful,” Joe answered lamely. “Besides, anybody who could seal up a galaxy-eating thingy in a can probably wouldn’t lose track of it, and I doubt it would be anything I could cut open either. Little children, er, young Stryx, shouldn’t worry about things like that. It can give you nightmares.”
“Well, that’s time,” Paul exclaimed, coming to Joe’s rescue. “If anybody wants to come meet Beowulf, just ask me later and I’ll bring him out to the park.”
“Thank you, Mr. Joe,” the children chorused.
“Thank you, kids,” Joe replied, giving a weak wave and practically running
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