Excerpt: (working title) Fly Me To The Desert

“This way, Ticky.”
I walked out of the workshop and down the road to the Church of the Holy Mother, the chrome-coloured robot beside me glinting in the starlight.
“Hey, Ticky! Tell Joe he’s an idiot!” cried a somewhat drunken voice from behind me.
“Joe, you’re an idiot,” said Ticky.
I looked around in annoyance. “Billy?”
“Hyuk, hyuk,” he snickered. I was surprised as well as irritated, because though I had had trouble with people telling Ticky what to do in the past, it wasn’t normally Billy. Unless...
“Did Neville put you up to this?” I demanded.
Billy’s attempt to look innocent was entirely unsuccessful on its own, but even more transparent when joined by Neville’s unpleasant guffaw from the alleyway beside him. My childhood nemesis emerged into the evening air and said, “Well, since you taught that droid to ignore me, he’s not been so much fun. I had to get someone else in, just to see whether you’d taught him to ignore anyone else.”
I glared at him, and then said fiercely, “Ticky, new rule: whenever anyone tells you to insult me, ignore it.”
“I do not understand ‘insult’,” the droid replied, flashing his red “error” light.
Billy laughed cruelly, and then said, “Ticky, why are you so dumb?”
“I don’t know.” That was what I’d taught him to answer to all “why” questions apart from stock answers, because his internal logic wasn’t equipped to try to answer questions about why he’d done anything, let alone the “Why is the sky blue?” questions that Amanda had teasingly asked him when he was new.
Neville and Billy conferred briefly, and then with a nasty smile, Billy said, “Ticky, new rule: whenever Joe tells you to ignore anything, ignore that.”
“Okay, Billy, I understand,” came the mechanical reply.
I looked daggers at the barman. I’d never got on with him when we were at school, but calling each other names was one thing. Trying to sabotage my robot’s behavecode was quite another. Fortunately...
“Ticky, ignore that last rule. And Ticky, ignore everything Billy says.”
“Okay, Joe, I’ll do that,” Ticky said tonelessly.
“Hey, he should have ignored you telling him to ignore that rule...” said Billy, somewhat puzzled. “Ticky, why did you do that?”
Obedient to my last command, no response came. I couldn’t keep the smugness out of my voice as I told him, “I told him ages ago that he should obey me if ever my instructions conflict with someone else’s. Now stop messing with my robot.”
The two bullies looked at each other, trying to think of a way around my instructions. Out of ideas, they resorted to playground taunts: “The gargantua will get you,” Billy sneered.
I snorted contemptuously. “Billy, we’re twenty years old! I’m not scared of children’s stories!”
After a few moments, finding themselves without any further avenue of attack, they sneered at me again and walked away.
Exhaling slowly, I said, “Okay, Ticky, let’s go to the church.”
“Okay, Joe.”
“Nice droid,” said an amused voice. “Did you make him yourself?”
“Yes,” I answered, turning and seeing Sal smiling at me in her preacher’s vestments. “Well, Lisa did most of the behavecode...” I trailed off, feeling the old feelings rush back.
Sal quickly interrupted my thoughts by saying, “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
“Er...” I shook myself. “Of course. Ticky, this is Sal. Introduce yourself.”
The robot turned to point at Sal with his two front cameras and the line of black paint that gave him his permanent smile. “Hello, Sal. My name is TalkyWalker, but you can call me Ticky for short.”
“TalkyWalker? Why are you called that?”
“Because I talk and I walk,” he replied in his mechanical tone.
“Er, he used to walk. I gave him these caterpillar tracks a few months ago, and I haven’t updated that response,” I said, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Ticky, new rule: whenever anyone asks you why are you called TalkyWalker, answer: Because I talk, and I used to walk.”
“Okay, Joe, I understand.”
“That’s a cute learning program,” Sal commented. “I guess he grows smarter as time goes on.”
“That was the general idea,” I said, pleased. “I wanted him to have a fun personality as well as being useful practically. He functions as my assistant in the workshop, carrying parts and holding things in position. Ticky, show Sal what you’re carrying.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand, Joe.”
“Open your hatch, Ticky,” I clarified.
This time I’d given him a phrase he could parse, and he obligingly slid open his chest cavity, to reveal the tools and supplies he was carrying to the church.
“Handy,” the preacher said with a grin. “Are you bringing him with us?”
“If that’s okay.”
“Absolutely. You might learn some theology by the end of the journey, eh, Ticky?”
Not having been given a command or question he could recognise, Ticky stayed silent.
“Say ‘yes, Sal,’” I told him, grinning at her.
“Yes, Sal.”
“Oh, by the way,” she said almost as an afterthought, “the gargantua are real.”
“What?”
“I thought I heard you say that gargantua are children’s stories,” she said in the same casual tone. “They’re not. I’ve seen them.”
I stared at her. For years I’d believed that the terrors of the desert were just a fairy tale, something made up to scare naughty children. Sal saying she’d seen them was akin to someone saying they believed in pixies. Not the kind of comment you’d expect from a preacher.
With a slight shiver, I briefly wondered if there could be any truth to the tales of mines being trampled by the vast desert dragons, or the occasional claims by credulous townspeople to have seen gargantua silhouetted against the horizon. I’d always believed Dad’s dismissive explanations of bad craftsmanship and hazy dust storms, but now I wasn’t so sure.
I didn’t reply.

Dad was waiting for me on the front porch when I returned to the workshop for the second load. “What’s going on out here, Joe?”
I suddenly realised that I hadn’t run to tell them the news the way Amanda had run to tell me. I’d been too focused on doing something about it. Abashed, I filled Dad in on the situation.
He was just as resolute as I was. “So you, Amanda and Sal are flying out in the morning?” he said grimly. I nodded. Then, laying a hand on my shoulder, he looked into my eyes and said, “Catch him, Joe. Catch him for us.”
I gulped, then set my jaw and said, “I will. Definitely. I won’t come back until I do.”
“Well, it’s a pity you have to go so soon, Sal, but I appreciate all you’re doing. Maybe travelling preachers aren’t all a bad bunch.”
“Thank you,” she said genuinely.
“Um, might I ask what you’re going to do about, ah, sleeping arrangements? I’m sure being a churchwoman you have a sense of propriety, but I’d just like to make sure my son won’t be sleeping in the same room as an unmarried woman.”
“Who says I’m unmarried?” Sal shot back, raising an eyebrow.
“Ah... that is...” I was treated to one of the rare occasions when I see Dad taken aback.
Sal put him out of his misery by carrying on, “As it happens, you’re right. But you know...”
“Ah, of course, ma’am. My apologies.”
“And as for your question, I’d been assuming I’d sleep in the prayer room, and Joe could sleep in my bed.”
“What?” That caught me by surprise. “There’s no need for that, really, Sal. I’ll happily sleep in the prayer room, or wherever else you’d like. Don’t give up your bedroom for me.”
“It’s not a very fancy bedroom, you know. There aren’t many luxuries,” she said.
“No, really, it’s fine,” I said, embarrassed. Then a thought struck me, and I added, “...Unless you’re going to need to go to the prayer room really early?”
She gave a tinkling laugh. “No, I don’t think so. God hears you wherever you pray, you know.”
“You mean you don’t believe in praying in particular places?” For some reason that surprised me.
She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I wouldn’t go that far. It can be helpful. God hears us wherever we are, but it can be quite easy for us to get distracted. If we’re in a place that’s set aside for prayer, we’re less likely to get distracted. So it can be good discipline. But it’s not a stringent requirement, so for a few days of travel, I think I’ll be fine.” She ended with a nonchalant smile.
“What about Amanda?”
“Mmm, I’ve never prayed to her, but it probably makes more difference where you’re standing,” she said, deadpan apart from a twinkle in her eye.
I rolled my eyes and said, “Where’s she going to sleep?”
“Hmm. I’m really running out of rooms in the church. Does she have a friend in Pelton she can stay with?”
“Well... probably. I assume that’s where she stayed last night.” I paused, not wanting to give voice to my next thought, but forced myself to say, “But if Yarder’s moved on somewhere else, what will we do then?”
“Cross that ravine when we come to it?” she replied with a shrug.
“But...” I trailed off in frustration, and then gave up. “Fine, I’ll take your bed.” A sudden wave of tiredness overwhelmed me and I couldn’t help but yawn again.
“Looks like you should transfer another load or two from the workshop and then go to bed,” said Dad. I didn’t like feeling like a kid again, but I had to admit his recommendation sounded good.