Androids declare - Humanoids are interesting

Humanoids are interesting. No, really!

Plotting

‘Greetings Number 11. You know this world is rather baffling and our esteemed chairentity insists we monitor the beeping boxes until we either understand the world better or go completely mad with boredom?’ it ranted.
‘I do?’
‘Well I’ve discovered two hairy mammals that have something in common and I believe they might interest you. Bob Nylon and Squint Eastward they are called and they sort of remind me of you. Would you care to view them on my monitor?’
‘I would.’
‘You’ll need your wits about you to understand Bob though. It seems he is rather unusual in being inclined to change his name as a result of having ideas. In fact he’s called The Chief at the moment and wears unusual clothes.’
‘Interesting ...’
‘Oh yes, and Roland the tramp is an expert on the Hollyist hermit/philosopher Honda Prelude. She might understand things which we don’t. She being Honda Prelude, not Roland!’
‘Really?’
‘I mean you could peek at Roland too.’
‘I’ll take a look. What are you going to do?’
‘Research aesthetics,’ Number 14 dutifully replied, and realised it had lied. ‘Only kidding,’ it added. ‘I’m intrigued by a certain telescope.’

Spying

Arnold woke early in his new rented home, pulled on his dressing gown and headed for the bathroom having to think twice to remember the way. After his shower he peered into the mirror while trimming his moustache and realised he’d need to hire a cleaner for such a large house. He took his electronic personal organiser from the pocket of his dressing gown and made a note.
Arnold chose a plain suit to wear, transferred the personal organiser from the dressing gown, checking the entries for the day, then went to the small room next to the conservatory that he’d designated as an office. He opened an ordnance survey map of the area 1:25000 scale and folded it to reveal just Smogdale, Kidneyswamp and the locality. Having scanned this into his computer he increased the magnification until the 4 inch square was more like 20 inches then printed it off.
Arnold took the enlarged map into the conservatory, consulted his new leather-bound notebook and added details to the enlarged map - the names of roads and landmarks such as pubs and churches.
‘This is nowhere near detailed enough,’ he said and checked his pockets for his wallet and car keys. ‘Let’s see what happens in a day without management,’ he sneered, lifting the lid of Antworld and using tweezers to remove the queen which he placed in a matchbox.

The ins and outs of the Outnor Inn

From a parking space at the southern end of Lake Road, Arnold had a good view of the market gardens, Kidneyswamp market and the biogas plant. Across the canal he could see the Jackson boatyard and manor house and the Outnor Inn. He noted everything of interest, underlining the fact that Brian Moore’s market stall ended the day being hitched to the rear of his wife’s minibus for the trip home.
Then he made his way to Smogdale, still north of the canal, and pulled up alongside the green from where he had a good view of Poddle’s relatively modest boatyard, QT’s tavern and the brewery. Across the canal amongst rows of terraced houses he could just see the top of the Seek church, and further away a couple of farms.
Arnold walked to the newsagents for a local paper then returned to his car to observe QT’s as people finished their day’s work. How many eat at the pub? he wondered.
‘Two pubs, two boatyards, two churches and two greengrocers,’ he murmured. ‘I’ve struck solid gold, competition-wise.’
Arnold worked late into the night copying the details of his day’s observation onto the master copy of his local map. By 11 p.m. he’d printed off a finished copy. He took it into the conservatory, lifted the glass lid of the box containing ants, ‘Antworld,’ he said approvingly as he slid the map onto the floor of the box. The ants were in a state of disarray, either inactive or dashing about without purpose or direction. Arnold nodded knowingly then returned the queen and decided to call it a day. ‘An illuminating one,’ he judged as he entered the final note of the day in his organiser, placed it on the bedside table and switched off the light.
‘You’re telling me,’ said Number 14, and also made a final note.




Free Humorous Novel

Copyright Peter Fairbother