The Kraken Project

16

Jacob Gould lay on the carpeted floor of his room, hands behind his head, staring at the swirled plastered ceiling. His laptop lay next to him. Part of him wanted to call up the surf report, and the other part didn’t want to know. He finally rolled onto his side, opened the computer, and logged on to Surfline. The report for Half Moon Bay finally indicated some action, eight to ten feet sets at fourteen seconds. The site indicated the wave heights might be enough to set off Mavericks and bring out the real surfers.

He shut the computer and lay back, feeling sick, wondering what he wanted to do, what would make him feel less worse. He rolled to his feet, wincing a little, and headed out toward the garage to his bike, hoping to get out before his father noticed. No such luck. He had wheeled his bike out to the driveway and was trying to get his right foot into the built-up pedal when his father appeared from his workshop, holding a screwdriver.

“Jacob?” he called out “Where are you going?”

“I was going to check out the surf at Mavericks.”

“But I’m almost finished with Charlie. Want to wait around until I’m done? You can be the first to see him walk.”

Jacob said, “I just want to check it out. I’ll be back soon.”

“All right.” His father went back into his workshop, from which Jacob could hear the soft sound of the Bee Gees.

Jacob finished buckling his bad foot into the special pedal, swung into the seat, and pedaled down the driveway to Frenchmans Creek Road. From there it was all downhill into town, past the harbor and airstrip, to Pillar Point. Getting down to Mavericks was easy, but coming back would be a bitch.

He ditched his bike near the radio telescopes, where the sand got deep, and walked to the edge of the bluffs. There was a strong onshore breeze that smelled richly of the sea. He could see the Mavericks break offshore, and yes, there were surfers. He delved into his backpack and pulled out his binoculars.

The break popped into view through the binocs. It wasn’t a monster break, but it was big enough for a serious ride. There were five surfers out there, paddling into the waves. And a crazy kayaker.

He watched for a while, but it didn’t do any good, and he began to feel worse and worse. His foot still hurt from the last operation. In a month there would be another. But who were they kidding? His foot was ruined, and his right leg was now shorter than the left. Even if he could get up on a board, he couldn’t stand straight. They were lying when they said he would surf again. He had started surfing as a kid, and now all that was finished and there was nothing he could do about it.

It had been a really stupid idea to come down here.

But he stayed. At an hour and a half, his cell phone rang. He knew even before looking it was his father. Nobody else called him. He had no friends. He didn’t answer it. But in a few more minutes he walked back to his bike and started the uphill ride home. His foot was hurting like hell by the time he reached the house. He ignored it. He’d gotten used to ignoring it.

He put his bike in the garage and came in through the kitchen. His father was right there, hovering at the back door. “Come with me,” he said, with a tentative smile. Ever since the accident, his parents had been full of forced smiles and phony cheerfulness, filling the house with the pretense that all was wonderful.

“What is it?” But Jacob knew what it was. He had a sort of sinking feeling about it.

“You’ll see.”

He followed his father through the kitchen to the foyer. There was the robot, just as he’d expected. It stood about three feet high, and it was supposed to be kind of steampunk retro, with polished aluminum legs, a stovepipe torso, aluminum arms, and clawlike, three-fingered metal hands. Its head was bulbous, like a big baby’s, made of silvery plastic, with a little rectangular mouth that didn’t move, a fake nose that looked like it might house a microphone, and two big, sad, green unblinking eyes. As Jacob appeared, the robot turned its head and looked at him with those round eyes.

“My name’s Charlie,” it said, the sound coming from its rectangular mouth. “What’s yours?” His voice sounded like a ten-year-old’s, high-pitched and whiny.

Jacob was glad his classmates weren’t here to see this. “Um, I’m Jacob.”

“Nice to meet you, Jacob. Would you like to play with me?”

Worse and worse. “Uh…” He glanced at his beaming father. “Sure.”

The robot came toddling over to him, as unsteady as a baby, and held out one of its metal hands. For a moment Jacob couldn’t bring himself to touch it, but then he reached over and took the hand.

“Let’s go play.”

“Happy fourteenth birthday, Jacob,” his father said proudly. “Sorry it’s so late.”

“It’s great, Dad,” said Jacob, mustering all the enthusiasm he could. “It’s really great. Thank you.” He knew what this birthday present was all about. He had no friends, so his father had built him one. How sad was that?

“I’ve still got a few adjustments to do, but go ahead and play with it. It’s Wi-Fi capable, able to download and run most Android apps. It’s got pretty good voice recognition — just tell it what you want. It can’t recognize faces yet, but I’m working on it. When not playing with it, you can recharge it with this cord.”

“Let’s go play,” the robot repeated.

“Go ahead,” said his father. “I’ll be in my workshop if you need anything.”

With a heavy heart Jacob picked up the robot and carried it into his room, shutting the door. He knew his father was going to question him minutely about how he liked the robot and what they did together. He didn’t want to hurt his father’s feelings but … why did his father have to force this on him? It just reminded him that he had no friends. This robot was going to be a ball and chain. At least Sully wasn’t around to see it.

He set the robot down on the floor.

“Let’s play,” Charlie said again.

Jacob ignored it.

But it was persistent: “Let’s play.”

“Go play with yourself.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

Jacob stared at the robot. It was standing on the rug, looking up at him with its big eyes, arms slightly extended, waiting eagerly.

“Charlie?”

“Yes, Jacob?”

“How old are you?”

“I was designed and built by Daniel Gould in Half Moon Bay, California, four months ago.”

“Right. So you want to play?”

“Yes.”

“What can you play?”

“I can play many games. How about checkers?”

“I don’t have a checker set.”

Charlie was silent for a while. Then he said, “Do you like chess? I like to play chess.”

“What I really like to do is surf.”

“What is ‘surf’?”

“It’s when you get on a board, go out in the ocean, and ride a wave. I do it every day.”

Another long silence as the robot contemplated this.

“Can I do it with you?”

“You’d be fried.”

“Why would I be fried?”

“Because you’d short out in the salt water.”

“I’m built to be water-resistant.”

“Yeah, right — you’d be pounded into scrap metal in five seconds trying to surf Mavericks.”

“I don’t understand the word ‘Mavericks.’”

Jacob looked for a switch to turn the thing off. He searched around its head, back, feet — nothing. There had to be a switch somewhere.

“How do I turn you off?”

Another long silence. “I don’t know the answer to that question.”

“Do you know the words ‘shut up’?”

“Yes.”

“Then please shut up.”

Charlie obediently went silent. Jacob picked it up, put it in the closet, and shut the door. Then he flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Once again he thought that it wouldn’t be that hard to do: just start on the beach and walk into the ocean and keep walking. It was October, and the water was so cold it wouldn’t take long. They all said it was the easiest way to go.