A patio

Bob marveled as the twelve household arms and various moving bots swam in circles and nearly avoided disaster via co-ordinated, humanly impossible grabs and hand-springs. He was grateful for the show but hopeful that no one had a rotator cuff problem later.

Bob had the TimeKnitter software running on a pane of glass. He saw the nexus point of New Coke’s escape and the new timeline that was passing under the “now” dot. He asked for a relative comparison off the nexus with an assumption of no escape. There was a divergence but it seemed like everything was pretty close to the original line. He shrugged and hoped the new world was, maybe, better than the older line somehow. He put the software away and promised no more work for a bit unless, well, he hoped that the changes he sent into Fred based on the mistakes he had made at the VDIC that caused all this would not repeat themselves. Like everybody, that’s the best Bob could do then, he felt satisfied with his effort, and tossed the glass pane into the home’s recycler.

Bingo looked over at Carlito with suspicion. Bingo ethered Bob, “Bingo see white dog. Bingo see dog. Dog near pig. Bingo kill dog. Bingo take pig meat. Bingo become happy. Bing..”

Bob ethered as light butt smack, “Bingo. Go over and wait for the pig to finish. Carlito isn’t a dog. He’s a guest.”

Bingo was unimpressed, “White dog eat much pork. White do…”

Bob ethered again, “Leave Carlito alone. Good boy. Plenty of pork.”

Bingo sniffed.

TARS was already in his favored position and Bingo awaited some GennedPig scraps while keeping one eye on the polar bear on his patio. Salote called the dog over and said, “Bingo, pill.”

Bingo said, “Nope. Bingo good.”

Salote repeated, “Bingo good. Bingo good for pork? Bingo good dog. Bingo take pill. Bingo get pork. Bingo have icky taste for one teensty tiny isty witsty second? Then OH! So many pork? Why? Bingo smart and safe. OK?”

Bingo looked at his momma, “Bingo love momma. Bingo eat demon seed to show her.”

Bingo stuck out his tongue and swallowed the demon. He shuddered slightly and then said, “Bingo get pig now!”

Salote popped down a large plate and Bingo had a small epiphany that only far far far too much pork can bring into a small dog. Then the pill did its job and, well, the results were gassously emitted from both ends. He sat content for a moment. Rolled on his back. Extended his belly to the setting sun and snoozed in preparation for the duel.

TARS was enjoying the food again socially of course and Salote appreciated that he enjoyed as data somehow.

Bob was about to talk and Salote asked for a summary this time. Bob stopped and walked back a second. Then said, “Either ur and New show up in the next five minutes or I just issue the shutdown from here and we’ll go to wherever the tracker leads us.”

TARS and Salote shrugged as it seemed reasonable. Bingo felt unmoved at all by either eventuality as well. They ate for a bit and then the two unmoored androids walked up.

Bob smiled and asked for two more places. The two androids sat with the rest of the group.

BobG ethered cross introductions quickly to all.

Bob offered, “Thanks for just coming in and we can just talk about whatever. What comes next? What should we do about all that just happened? How can all of us do something to repair what happened and make sure it doesn’t happen again? Is that enough in this case and does justice require something punitive?”

Salote softened Bob’s speech a bit, “We’ve already spoken to everyone who feels deceived. It’s going to be OK. Nobody liked the news that they were drinking something like cocaine without an anti-death. Now that they know, they’ve seen their glassoctors and everything will be just fine. So, it’s more about the damage to you and the damage to everyone’s trust of what they consume. We definitely need to work on that together and, you guys seem great at communicating? Carlito is already white? So, maybe a big pile of Cocaine next to the bottle as well?”

Bob laughed and shrugged, “But that’s a LOT to talk about and I can’t think of anything more to say just right now.”

Salote laughed out loud at this turn of phrase as it had never happened in all of her memory of Bob.

Bob just offered, “So, enjoy the good food for tonight. We’ll host you for as long as we need. It’ll be fair, thorough, and we’ll take our time to find these things out. The damage is real and you’ll own it. But I’m sure we can get you there. So, again, enjoy.”

Bob walked off to look at the sunset. Salote sat with her guests.

Salote offered, “Are you guys good? Please try everything! Does anybody need a part?”

The Office team, fully emotionally lowered, waved and said, “Great food.” Access had the most on his plate, however.

ur-Coke said, “My fod spillth on my innards freely. Verily.”

Salote wrinkled her nose and said, “That sounds messy. Give me just a sec…”

Salote popped open ur-Coke’s thorax. A pile of rotting food was inside from prior meals. “Ooof,” said Salote as she pulled out the mess, took a nearby hose and just sprayed until ur-Coke’s thorax was free of rot. Then, she snapped on a USGastric-A to C converter and placed a new stomach after Lefty7 came by from the garage with it. She slapped closed his cover and said, “Now you’re ready to FEAST! Get in there and get some good food. Even if it’s just a simulation, it’ll help you think about what comes next? What do you think should come next, ur-Coke?”

ur-Coke sat and said, “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

Salote shrugged, “Yeah, once money isn’t the game? Sometimes it takes a minute to decide what to do next. Happens to me too. Some days? What’s the plan? Some days not much. Just make sure that not much isn’t all of your days and, well, life is great!”

New Coke offered, “Can I have a coke with this pork?”

Salote said, “One cola coming up.” She ethered the staff to start the knitter.

Bob walked and motioned to his wife to join him away from the others as they ate. The sun was nearly resting for the day. He’d spent a bunch of time on this nonsense and he wanted to share the view with just her.

Bingo, waiting, awoke to the scent. The scent of destiny. He turned to see View as she sauntered in with the entire corgi legal unit. The gnaw would happen and be correctly seconded.

The wind blew a virtual tumbleweed between View and Bingo. View’s eyes narrowed. The seconds walked to their places and advised that the gnaw should now commence.

Bingo assumed the correct initial bow position and ethered, “Come at this, bitch!”

View quickly pivoted and correctly countered with bow and the classic response, “This insolence will not stand” again via dogether subfrequency rumble pak.

BingoG advised Bingo to do a mini jump and then bare teeth and maybe a spitty thing.

Bingo shook off the spitty call and went mini jump only.

View sensed Bingo’s hesitation and fired for Bingo’s exposed cranium. The graw entered the thrash. Out of nowhere, Bingo now gnawed View’s head for a moment and they broke.

Bingo hopped back up one to zip. He was confident but View was fast. He would need to be careful.

View now had learned a bit and settled into the correct stance, “Oh no! You just did not put your dirty gob on my head!”

Bingo went a bit dirty with “Well, I think I know who’s alph…” and View clamped Bingo quickly to tie the match.

Bingo backed up a bit enamored with her pure speed and her fluffy body interested him as well. He got ready and got into position and…

Salote yelled, “hey. you dogs want pork or just each other’s cranium.”

All the dogs ran over to awaiting pork well dusted with anti-death. Many wagging tails as pork disappeared faster than should reasonably happen, but there was always more. The stench would fade. Someday.

Salote turned to Bob and asked, “So, you still going to curate the VDIC? You’ve been working like a dog lately.”

Bob smiled and said, “What? Are you kidding, I just got TARS to dance well and you want me to quit?”

Salote laughed, “Oh, I saw the dancing Bob. I know who needs lessons between the two of you!”

Bingo ran up and asked, “Dad. Dog question.”

Bob looked at Bingo and said, “Shoot.”

Bingo said, “No projectile weapon? Question, girl sniff butt. Girl like Bingo?”

Bob answered, “Did View sniff your butt, Bingo?”

Bingo side eyed, “Maybe…”

Bob offered, “Well, she’s a very nice bitch.”

Bingo barked, “OH! Momma! Did you hear? Poopy mouth poppa. No kiss momma with poopy mouth! Ick. You eat own poop, Dad? Icch.”

Bob complained, “It means female dog, Bingo.”

Bingo, walking away, “I no call woman that, Bob. Try harder.”

Bob turned to his laughing wife, buried his head in her wild curls and watched the dimming sunshine through her hair.