Astro Boy: The Movie (8 page)

“Let me guess—take-out pizza again?” Zane asked.

Hamegg produced some battered-looking pizza boxes.

“More like
taken
out of the trash again!” Sludge complained.

“Picky, picky,” Hamegg said cheerfully. “It’s only a couple of days old. Look, this one still has toppings!”

Hamegg doled out a slice to every kid at the table. Before they could dig in, he held up his hand.

“Hey! Haven’t you forgotten something?” he asked.

The kids paused.

He looked at Astro. “What have they forgotten, son?”

“Um ... grace?” Astro guessed.

“Exactly,” Hamegg said. “Grace!”

The little girl whom Cora had given the chainsaw to looked up. She wore a baseball cap with the name “Grace” on it.

“What?” Grace asked.

“Turn on the TV, sweetheart, would you please?” Hamegg asked. “That’s a dear.”

Grace got up and turned on several television sets arranged all around the table. Each TV blared a different, loud show, a mix of professional wrestling, game shows, and car races.

“Well, Bon Appeteetee!” Hamegg said.

Everyone started eating, staring at the TV sets. Astro didn’t touch his pizza. For one thing, as a robot, he didn’t need to eat. But Astro wasn’t sure if he would eat it if he were human. It looked pretty gross.

A scruffy kid next to him eyed his pizza slice hungrily. “Yo, new guy! You gonna eat that?” he asked.

“You can have it if you want it,” Astro said, sliding his plate over.

“Thanks. I’m Sam,” the kid told him.

“Don’t be so nice. You’re gonna starve to death,” Cora warned Astro. She bit into her pizza and winced. “Or be the only survivor.”

The kids laughed.

“So tell me, Astro, do your folks know where you are?” Hamegg asked.

“I don’t have any parents,” Astro replied.

“How very sad,” Hamegg said. “Did you lose them? Or even sadder, did they lose you?”

Hamegg’s words were too close to the truth. Astro decided he might as well be honest.

“I never really had parents,” he began.

“No, the truth is I’m actually a ... I’m a ... ” Astro was still too afraid to tell the truth.

“A
what?”
Cora asked impatiently.

Trashcan started jumping up and down behind Astro. He knew what Astro really was.

Astro looked at Cora. He wanted to tell her the truth. But what if she rejected him, just like Dr. Tenma had? He was just starting to feel comfortable here. Where else could he go?

“I’m a ... ” He just couldn’t say it.

“Don’t worry, son. We’re all orphans down here,” Hamegg interjected. “Nothing to be ashamed about.”

Astro sighed with relief. “So none of you have parents?”

“Parents?” Sludge asked. “Are you kidding me?”

“This whole place is a parent-free zone,” Cora explained.

Zane stuffed another slice of pizza into his mouth. “I was born in the scrap heap. I was raised by wild dogs,” he bragged, with his mouth full of food.

“Really? Are you sure it wasn’t wild pigs?” Cora teased.

Everyone laughed, including Zane. Astro joined in.

Maybe, just maybe, this was where he belonged.

It was really late. After dinner, the other kids got ready for bed. Astro cobbled together a cot from some old robot springs and fabric scraps. Hamegg made the rounds of the junkyard, checking on all of his charges. He stopped by Astro.

“Feeling homesick for Metro City, Astro?” Hamegg asked.

“No,” Astro answered, although he wasn’t sure if that was true.

Hamegg sat down on an old oil drum. “Me neither,” he said. “I was head of advanced robotics at the Ministry of Science. Oh yeah, right up there with Tenma and the other muckety-mucks.”

Astro was curious. Hamegg had known Toby’s father. “What happened?” he asked.

“What always happens to genius,” Hamegg said. “They were intimidated by my talent, so they threw me away like an old battery.”

“I’m sorry,” Astro said.
He
knew what that felt like.

“Not your problem,” Hamegg said. “You know, I’ve got a hunch about you, Astro. There’s always room for a good kid in this family. Now how about getting some shut-eye? Good night ... son.”

He tucked Astro into his bed, bringing the scraps of junk up to his chin.

“Good night, Hamegg,” Astro said.

Hamegg left, and Astro noticed Trashcan staring at him, his eyes glowing in the darkness.

“I’m going to tell them,” Astro said. “Just not yet, okay?”

Trashcan gave Astro a look that clearly said, “You’ll be sorry.” Then he trotted away.

Astro didn’t let it worry him. Everything would work out fine—it had to.

Then he closed his eyes and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning, Astro lined up with the rest of the junkyard kids. Hamegg stood by the door, patting each head as the kids filed past.

Astro stepped up with Trashcan by his side.

Hamegg smiled at Astro. “Nice to have you on the team, son. Bring me home something special. Make me proud.”

“I’ll try,” Astro promised.

At his side, Trashcan began to beep, jumping up and down.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
He wouldn’t stop! Astro knew he was trying to tell Hamegg that he was a robot.

“You might need to tighten a few of his bolts,” Astro suggested.

Hamegg patted Trashcan’s head. “Do I have to tighten your bolts?”

Astro hurried out, glad that Hamegg hadn’t caught on. The kids took off in all directions, but Cora, Zane, Widget, and Sludge stuck together. He followed them into an area he hadn’t seen before. They were in some kind of meadow. There were even a few trees here and there. Broken robot parts littered the ground like bones in the desert. Huge scrap heaps loomed in the distance.

Trashcan continued to beep at Astro.

“Hey, knock it off,” Astro hissed. “I’ll tell them—just not yet, okay?”

Trashcan beeped some more. Then he stopped, running ahead. He stopped near Cora and started frantically digging in the dirt. Astro shook his head and caught up to Cora and Zane.

“What does Hamegg want parts for?” he asked them.

“He’s a genius,” Cora said proudly. “He can make cool robots from pretty much any old scrap. And then he puts them into Hamegg’s Robot Games.”

“Robot games?” Astro asked.

“They’re a tradition down here,” Cora explained. “Once a year, Hamegg puts on a big show and he always needs new performers. It’s kind of a Roman thing.”

“And pretty cool,” Zane added.

Astro looked around the meadow. “You’re not going to find much here. It’s a graveyard.”

Cora raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Metro City’s first day and already he’s an expert.”

“You’d be surprised,” Astro replied. “I know a thing or two about robots.”

Widget called out from up ahead. “I think we’ve got something!”

“See?” Cora told Astro. She raised her voice. “Coming!”

She walked right past Trashcan. The dog ran up to Astro and Zane and started beeping again, jumping up on Zane.

“Hey! What’s the matter, boy?” Zane asked.

Trashcan nodded to the patch of dirt he’d been digging. He’d carved out the words “HE’S A ROBOT” in huge letters, with an arrow pointing to Astro. Astro turned pale. His secret was out!

“Whoa,” Zane said. He looked at Astro, then back at Trashcan, then at Astro again.

He shrugged. “Makes me wish I could read.”

He ran off after Cora. Trashcan hung his head, frustrated.

“Nice try, rust-bucket,” Astro said.

He started to catch up with the others, but something caught his eye. A huge, rusting robot covered with patches of grass and weeds was lying in the clearing nearby.

“Cora, hey!” Astro called out. “I think I found something!”

Cora and the kids ran over. When they saw what Astro was pointing at, they laughed.

“Ha! That’s just an old construction robot,” Cora said. “It fell to the Surface a hundred years ago.”

“Do you think Hamegg could use it?” Astro asked. Curious, he walked toward the big robot.

“If he had a robot like Zog, he’d make a fortune in the games,” Cora said. “But it’s just a piece of junk. We used to have picnics in its head.”

Astro wanted to bring back something great to impress Hamegg. This robot could be just the thing.

“Give me a minute,” he said.

He ran to the robot.

“It weighs hundreds of tons,” Cora called out. “What are you going to do, put it in your backpack?”

She’d flip if she knew I could really carry it,
Astro thought. He examined the bot. The robot’s body was big and barrel-shaped—you could fit a small family inside it. Astro scooted behind some overgrown weeds, making sure the others couldn’t see him. Then he peeled back a steel plate and stepped inside.

The robots circuits were covered in cobwebs, but everything looked like it was in place. Astro spotted a nameplate and wiped the dust from it. It read, “Z.O.G. Built to Last.”

“Zog,” Astro said out loud. “Hello, Zog.”

Astro’s eyes glowed, and he scanned the dusty circuits. He quickly located the power source—a dead battery.

“I know you’re not dead. You’re just pretending,” Astro told him.

He took a deep breath and focused a beam of Blue Core energy on the battery. Nothing happened.

“Come on, big guy. Time to wake up,” Astro urged.

Astro tried harder. The beam got brighter.

“Zog, let me help you ... come on.”

Slowly, the circuits began to crackle, coming to life. A blue light flickered across the control panel. Astro quickly jumped out of the robot’s body.

The ground rumbled as the robot awoke from his hundred-year sleep.

Zog was alive!

Back at the junkyard, Hamegg was testing one of his robots in the outdoor courtyard. The human-sized robot was dancing around, pounding the air with his fists like a boxer in training.

“Hold it right there, Twinkle Toes,” Hamegg said. “Are you some kind of ice-skater? You planning on ballroom dancing with your opponent, or you going to fight him?”

Eager to please, the robot started punching harder and delivering martial-arts style kicks in the air.

“Easy, champ, save a little for the show,” Hamegg said.

The robot paused, waiting for Hamegg’s approval.

“That was nice, very nice,” Hamegg told him. “Kid, I think you got the makings of a champion.”

The happy robot did a series of backflips across the courtyard like some crazed gymnast. He landed on both feet, raising his arms in victory.

Zog accidentally crushed the robot with his giant foot. Astro and the kids rode in on Zog’s massive shoulders. Hamegg looked up in amazement. A small, dome-shaped head sat on top of the robot’s huge body. One of the robot’s thick arms ended in a cement mixer.

“Sorry about your robot,” Astro said.

Hamegg stared, open-mouthed, unable to talk for a minute. Then he spoke. “What? Oh him? He wasn’t really working out, anyway. But hey, this guy’s something else!”

The kids climbed down as Hamegg began to inspect Zog. He looked like a kid who had just unwrapped a birthday present.

“Boy, they don’t make ‘em like this anymore,” he gushed. “Look at the legs on this baby. Look at those feet. None of your carbon fiber plastic junk on this guy. That’s solid pig iron. He’s even got the original detailing.”

“Astro got it running, which I’m still having trouble believing,” Cora said, with a suspicious glance at Astro.

Hamegg’s eyes widened. “But it’s been dead for at least a century!” He turned to Astro. “How did you do it? Please tell me how you did it!”

Astro shrugged. “I just kicked it, you know, like a vending machine. ‘Give me back my money.’ It was nothing.”