Evil Machines (18 page)

‘Hell!’ said the rocket.

‘And when he’s got rid of us, he’s going to replace human beings with self-replicating machines! And then he’s going to take over the world! We have to stop him! Turn back! That man is evil!’

‘No! He is the source of all goodness.’

‘No, he’s not! He’s creating machines to destroy mankind!’

‘Nonsense!’ said the rocket. ‘The Inventor wants to help mankind!’

‘If that’s what he told you – he’s lying!’ exclaimed Jack.

‘Play the message,’ said the rocket.

‘What?’ asked Jack.

‘The message! Play the message!’

Jack looked around feverishly. The controls were by now becoming too hot to touch.

‘Next to the ALARM button!’ said the rocket, and suddenly Jack spotted a key that said ‘MESSAGE’ and pressed it. Immediately the Inventor’s face appeared on the screen over the control panel.

‘Welcome to the Rocket to Heaven,’ said the Inventor. ‘With this wonderful machine, human beings will be able to realize one of their greatest dreams . . . no more hanging around in Purgatory . . . No more having to get everything exactly right on your deathbed! With this rocket you can go straight to Heaven – no questions asked!

‘This is the latest in my line of wonderful machines to

help humankind and to make the world a better place for everyone.’

‘There! You see!’ said the rocket.

‘But you’re
not
going to Heaven!’ exclaimed Jack. ‘You’re going to . . .’

‘Hell!’ exclaimed the rocket. ‘You’re right!’

By this time the air in the rocket had grown so hot and heavy that it was becoming hard to breathe . . . Orville had collapsed in his seat and was gasping for breath.

‘Turn around!’ yelled Jack.

‘I can’t! I am programmed never to turn back!’ exclaimed the rocket.

‘But you’re doing the opposite of what the Inventor designed you to do!’ exclaimed Jack.

‘Hell!’ cried the rocket. ‘I know!’

‘Then why are you doing it?’

‘I don’t know!’ cried the rocket. ‘Stop me!’

‘How?’ yelled Jack.

There were sparks coming from some of the electrical connections, by this time, and smoke was rising up from the tangle of wires and plugs behind the control panel. A piece of card that was sticking out of a slot amongst the controls suddenly burst into flame. Jack snatched the card out of the slot, and banged the flames out with his bare hands.

‘Ouch!’ he exclaimed. ‘We’re starting to cook! Turn around!’

‘I can’t!’

‘Wait a minute! What’s this!’ exclaimed Jack. He was staring at the singed card in his hand.

‘What’s happening?’ yelled the rocket. ‘I don’t know

what I’m doing any more!’

‘It’s unbelievable!’ cried Jack.

‘What should I do? Where do I go? What speed? Ooooh! I’m lost!’ cried the rocket. ‘I’ve got no instructions!’

‘That’s because I’ve taken this out!’ shouted Jack, holding up the singed card. ‘The Inventor must have made you decades ago . . . Your programme is on this old-fashioned punch-card!’

‘Of course it’s on a punch-card!’ snapped the rocket. ‘How else can you programme a computer?’

‘Well, we do things differently nowadays – no time to explain!’ shouted Jack. ‘But hang onto your blasters! We’re going into reverse!’

And with that Jack turned the punch-card around and reinserted it into the slot.

‘What are you doing?’ exclaimed the rocket as the card slid in. ‘That feels most peculiar!’

‘Your programme’s now running backwards!’ shouted Jack.

‘sdrawkcab gniklat neve m’I !sey hO’ exclaimed the rocket. ‘!og ew ereH’ and suddenly it blasted its retro-jets and the next minute they were shooting back the way they’d come along the passage they’d already made. Back up through the Earth’s crust and up through the mantle they careered, and then POP! like a cork out of a champagne bottle they shot up into the sky.

Then up and up they flew in reverse, higher and higher, towards a dark speck that grew bigger and bigger, until they could see that it was the Iron Cloud. The doors in the side of the Cloud opened up and the rocket shot back in. It skidded

backwards across the floor of the hangar, and finally crashed backwards into its original dock.

The Inventor looked out of the control room, apoplectic with rage. ‘What’s going on?’ he screamed at the rocket. ‘How did you get to come back?’

‘!lleH ot em tnes uoY,’ growled the rocket.

‘What are you talking about?’ shouted the Inventor.

But before it could explain, Jack and Orville jumped out of the rocket.

‘How did you get free!’ exclaimed the Inventor.

But neither Jack nor Orville felt like explaining anything. They both sprinted across the hangar floor towards the corridor that led back to the breaking yard, and the Inventor took off after them.

‘I’ll deal with you later!’ he shouted at the rocket.

‘!taht tuoba ees ll’eW,’ replied the rocket.

Once in the corridor, Orville and Jack could hear the Inventor shouting his curses after them, and the next thing they heard was the whirr and whizz of the flying gizmos, which were now swooping towards them, through the corridor. Their blue spotlights flicked onto the two men. The next moment the flying gizmos
started clicking, and Jack and Orville knew that the metallic thread was about to shoot out to truss them up.

And that is exactly what would have happened, had not Jack caught his toe in one of the hatchways in the floor of the corridor. He fell forwards, sprawling among the cables. The flying gizmos
hesitated. The clicking stopped. One gizmo darted towards him, and then drew back, as if afraid of hitting the ground.

‘Quick, Dad! Get down!’ yelled Jack, and he pulled his father onto the floor beside him. The flying gizmos whirred above them, but didn’t seem to know what to do. Now and again one would dart down towards them, but it always flew back up to the ceiling.

‘They can’t tie us up as long as we’re on the floor!’ breathed Jack.

The flying gizmos continued to hover above them, but eventually their blue spotlights began to search elsewhere, and the gizmos
themselves started crackling and spitting and glowing red.

‘They’re confused! They don’t know what to do!’ whispered Jack, as his father raised himself up. ‘Keep down, Dad!’ And he pulled his father back to the floor.

‘But look out!’ hissed Orville. ‘Here’s the Inventor!’

The Inventor was striding down the corridor towards them. In his hand was an evil looking weapon the like of which neither Orville nor Jack had ever seen before.

‘What’s going on here?’ screamed the Inventor. ‘Get up, you two!’

‘No fear!’ yelled Jack, and the flying gizmos squeaked apologetically and blinked their lights, turning this way and that in confusion.

‘I’ll count to three,’ said the Inventor, pointing the hideous looking weapon straight at Orville’s head, but speaking to Jack. ‘If you’re not standing up straight by then, I’ll let the old man have it between the ears!’ (The Inventor really was a most unpleasant man.)

Jack looked around desperately. There was nothing else for it. He would have to stand up, and let the flying gizmos

tie him up again, for he had no doubt that the Inventor meant what he said.

But then a remarkable thing happened. One of the flying gizmos suddenly started bleeping more regularly, and swung its blue spotlight around. The other flying gizmos seemed to calm down too, and suddenly all the blue spotlights turned onto the only person who was standing, who was, of course, none other than the Inventor. Before you could say ‘Thomas Alva Edison!’ the flying gizmos were swooping and darting all around him.

‘What are you doing?’ cried the Inventor. ‘Stop it! Stop it!’ and he desperately tried to get his remote control out of his pocket, letting go of one end of the evil-looking weapon as he did so.

In that moment, Jack made a lunge, and knocked the weapon out of the Inventor’s hands. Brushing off a couple of gizmos, he dived to the floor again.

‘Well done, son!’ shouted Orville Barton, and Jack glanced across and smiled at his father.

Meanwhile the flying gizmos had trussed the Inventor up with his hand still in his pocket trying to reach his remote.

‘Imbeciles!’ fumed the Inventor. ‘You’re meant to be tying them up – not me!’

The flying gizmos blinked at each other.

‘They must be programmed to respond only to the remote control,’ whispered Jack. ‘And that’s still in his pocket!’

‘Untie me!’ screamed the Inventor. ‘Look! They’re getting away!’

And it was true. Jack and Orville were now crawling

desperately along the floor, heading for the breaking yard.

‘DOLTS!’ screamed the Inventor. ‘BLOCKHEADS! BOOBIES!’

The flying gizmos paused in their work, and blinked at each other. ‘NUMBSKULLS! DUNDERHEADS! HALFWITS!’ the Inventor continued to scream, turning blue in the face as he did so. ‘MORONS! PLONKERS! NINCOM . . .’ and that is where he stopped, for one of the flying gizmos had gagged him.

The Dog Maker

and Other Wonders

The breaking yard was in chaos. Machines were scrambling about, climbing over each other, rolling here and skidding there. The refrigerators had all grouped together in a single pile, and one of them was addressing the others, but there was such a din it was hard to hear what it was saying. Vacuum cleaners were rushing about, and the cars were slamming their doors. Some printing presses and a crowd of pneumatic drills had gathered round the crusher, and a mixed lot of mangles, traffic lights, hairdryers and saxophone stands were milling round banging on the corrugated iron sides of the dismantling shed. The uproar was deafening.

Suddenly out of the disorder, the train came speeding up to Jack and Orville.

‘Oh, thank you! Thank you!’ it cried. ‘You saved me! I would be shunting garbage by now! My hero!’ And it grabbed Jack with its windscreen wipers and hugged him, plonking a wet kiss on his face with one of its headlights.

‘Stop that!’ yelled Jack.

‘Take us to the Inventor’s castle!’ shouted Orville. ‘We’ve got to rescue Annie and Little Orville!’

‘I was a goner!’ exclaimed the train, hugging Jack again.

‘Let me go!’ shouted Jack.

‘My saviour!’ beamed the train.

‘The Inventor’s castle! There’s no time to lose!’ yelled Jack.

‘Whatever you want! My hero!’ said the train. ‘Jump in!’

So Orville and Jack jumped into the driver’s cabin and the train tooted, ‘Wheeeeee! Whooo! Out of the way! Important passenger on board! Whooo!’

And it made its way through the Dictaphones and typewriters, the X-ray machines and lawnmowers, egg-sorters and humidifiers, tractors, shredding machines, power hammers, central-heating boilers, pianos, movie cameras, rifles and petrol pumps that had all been awaiting destruction in that dismal place. And when they knew who was on board, the machines all broke out into spontaneous applause, and some cheered and the cars threw their hubcaps in the air.

The train tooted and gathered speed, heading towards a tunnel at the far end of the breaking yard, and there, with a final hoot, it plunged into the black interior.

‘How far is it?’ asked Jack, flicking on the headlights.

‘Over the hill and far away!’ chanted the train happily.

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Jack. ‘How long will it take?’

‘As long as it takes to get there!’ said the train.

‘Look! Tell us how long!’ exclaimed Orville. But at that moment they came out of the tunnel into broad daylight.

The sun was shining above them. All around them the blue sky blazed with light, and it seemed as if they were on top of the world. And in a way that was exactly where they were, for they had come out onto the upper side of the Iron Cloud, and here things were very different.

It wasn’t that the Iron Cloud had a silver lining; it had a
green
lining. Instead of steel and rusting metal, the upper side of the Iron Cloud was covered in grass and sweet-smelling vegetation. There were rolling hills and trees as far as the eye could see.

‘Some cloud!’ exclaimed Jack.

‘The Inventor created all this,’ tootled the train happily. ‘Isn’t it lovely!’

‘I don’t understand . . .’ began Jack, but before he could say any more, the Engine interrupted.

‘There it is! Over the hill and far away! Like I said!’

And sure enough, over the next hill and some distance away stood the Inventor’s castle. It was built on the highest elevation, overlooking the emerald acres of the Iron Cloud. The sun shone off the castle’s silver roofs, and glinted on the gold weather vane on the topmost tower. Behind it the blue sky looked solid and close enough to touch.

But as they continued to approach, Jack could see the outbuildings were somewhat dilapidated. The pigsties and the cowsheds were lacking parts of their roofs and the door of the shepherd’s cottage hung loose on its hinges. Even the castle itself showed signs of neglect. The paintwork was peeling and in places stones had fallen out of the wall and were now lying forlornly on the grass outside the castle.