It poured two glasses and returned to the kitchen to recharge its batteries.

StoryKettle » QUAINT » Thinland

Copyright © 2021, Michael M Wayman

We took off all our clothes and flopped down on the bed and fell asleep. We’d been travelling for nearly three days, we were jet-lagged and needed sleep.

Friday went down to the street to buy coffee and stuff for breakfast. We looked around us, the apartment that we were staying in looked OK. We turned on the TV and saw us, a journalist had interviewed us at the airport after we had landed in Thinland:

Another plane, much smarter than ours, was parked alongside. A man was walking down the steps and waving to everyone. Was he the president? He certainly was. The president of Fatland. He stopped halfway down, he turned, he ran up the steps, he kissed the fuselage of the plane and fell down the steps. Our plane taxied towards the runway and we saw no more.

Why did he kiss the Plane? Dunno. Perhaps he licked it or spat at it or rubbed his cheek on it or banged his head on it. It was difficult to see.

There was a knock at the door, who was it?

I’m Rudy.

No way! It looked vaguely human, it stood on two legs, it had three arms and three hands (two to the left and one to the right), it had a head with eight eyes all the way round. It could have been made of aluminium and it wore a bright red pinafore dress.

“No, you’re not!”

Friday knew what to do. She punched it hard in the place where humans have a stomach.

“That was a bit harsh, Friday.”

She laughed. “That’s where all the switches are.”

Six‑Oh‑Ate:  General Initialisation.

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Six‑Oh‑Ate:  Reporting for Duty

“Six‑Oh‑Ate, two glasses of red wine, please. And tonight Lasagne for two at eight.”

Six‑Oh‑Ate brought a tray with two glasses and a bottle, it poured two glasses and returned to the kitchen to recharge its batteries.