The Kraken Project

32

Jacob followed his father into his workshop. He wished he hadn’t agreed to help reprogram Charlie. This was turning into a real pain in the butt. As a kid, he remembered how much he had loved this workshop, the smell of warm electronics, the long tables and metal racks covered with computer equipment and circuit boards, the pegboard hung with antique woodworking tools, the Beach Boys or the Carpenters playing low in the background. He had thought of his father as a genius like Steve Jobs and fully expected that one of his inventions would make them rich and famous.

But around the time Jacob had turned twelve, he’d begun to see his father in a different light. They hadn’t gotten rich. Instead, they were getting poorer. He noticed that his father often talked too much and got too enthusiastic describing his projects with people he didn’t know well. Sometimes he saw people rolling their eyes when his father went on too long about his robots.

That was when he began to realize that his father wasn’t a genius after all. He never would invent some amazing new thing that would make them rich and famous. It started to look like things would continue as they had, with his father making things in his garage, always looking for investors, occasionally doing consulting work, and his mother always worrying and talking about money.

As a result, Jacob no longer loved going into his father’s workshop with him. Instead, he avoided the place. A visit there became a source of anxiety. This time was no different.

His father was very excited, talking a mile a minute. He had reprogrammed Charlie, according to the “great” advice Jacob had given him. He talked about how valuable a partner Jacob was, laying it on thick, even though Jacob knew it wasn’t true. This was just the first trial, but he wanted Jacob, his “pard,” to take Charlie for a “test drive.”

Charlie stood on the worktable, looking exactly the same. Near him stood a Charlie-sized rocking chair tucked into a miniature card table, with a piece of paper on it and a crayon.

“All right,” his father was saying. “All right. Here we go.” He rubbed his hands together in a funny way. “You ready? I’ll talk to Charlie first, ask him to do a few things, and then you take over. Ready, pard?”

“I’m ready, Dad.”

More hand rubbing. “Charlie?”

“Yes, Dan?” Charlie’s head turned toward his father, his funny, saucerlike eyes blinking. That was new. It made him look creepy, like Slappy the Dummy in the Goosebumps books Jacob had once devoured. At least the voice wasn’t so squeaky.

“Charlie, sit down at the table.”

The robot walked over to the rocking chair, placed its hands on the back of it, pulled it out, walked around it, and awkwardly sat down.

His father looked at Jacob expectantly.

“Cool,” said Jacob. “Really cool.”

“Charlie? Pick up the crayon.”

The robot fumbled a bit and managed to pick up the crayon.

“Draw a circle.”

Charlie drew a circle.

“Make it into a smiley face.”

Charlie drew two dots for eyes and a smile. Another beaming look at Jacob in search of praise.

“Fantastic,” said Jacob. “Amazing.”

“Charlie, this is my son, Jacob.”

“Pleased to meet you, Jacob.” Charlie rose, walked to the edge of the table, stopped before falling off, and held out his hand.

Jacob shook it, feeling like an idiot.

“Jacob would like to chat with you.”

“Great,” said Charlie. “What do you want to talk about, Jacob?”

“Um…” Jacob suddenly had no idea what to say. He looked at his father, who made a “go ahead” gesture.

“Hey, uh, Charlie, you know much about surfing?”

“A little.”

“You know Mavericks?”

“Oh yes. The bitchinest surfing challenge in the world.”

Bitchinest? “So you know, um, Greg Long?”

“No, I don’t know Greg Long. Who’s he?”

“He’s the world’s best big-wave rider.”

“That’s totally gnarly.”

Gnarly? Now it was clear his dad must’ve collected words from some surfing lingo website. He glanced over, saw his dad beaming. God, this was awkward. He racked his brains. “So … Charlie … you got anything you want to talk about?”

“Let’s talk about girls.”

What a disaster. He glanced at his father. “That’s great, Dad.”

“Getting there, getting there…” Dan rubbed his hands. “He still needs work. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to program him to sit down in that chair.”

“I bet.” Jacob was dying to get out of there. This just got worse and worse.

“I know he’s not quite there yet, but I’ve made a lot of progress.” A philosophical look gathered on his father’s face, and Jacob knew he was in for a “talk.”

“My father, your granddad, always told me to live my dream. But I’ve got to tell you, it’s tough sometimes. Because it’s not enough to have a dream — you need financing.” He sat down on the edge of the table and looked at Jacob with a serious face. “Your granddad grazed cattle on this land and made a pretty good living at it. He had a thousand acres in these hills, a big ranch, only he sold most of it a little too early.”

It was a piece of family lore, this story of his granddad selling the land during the Depression for ten dollars an acre. Today, his father never tired of saying that it’d be worth fifty million. And what did his granddad do with the money? Invested in “safe” railroad bonds that went bust.

“Granddad kept the best piece of it, more than fifteen acres and the homestead, where we are today. It may be a few miles from the ocean, but it’s a valuable piece of property now.”

He paused.

“Which brings me to something I wanted to explain to you, why your mom and I are selling the place, downsizing, and maybe using some of the money to finance my venture. I feel that we haven’t explained this to you, which might be … well, a source of anxiety.”

Might be why you tried to kill yourself, you mean, thought Jacob.

“The taxes are just through the roof, and it makes no sense to cling to vacant land we don’t use. I just wanted to let you know … I felt maybe I hadn’t explained it well enough before.”

Jacob felt like his dad was only completing the disaster his granddad had started. The thought of the house being sold made him feel horrible all over again. He said nothing.

“I know it’s the place where you grew up. Me, too. It’s been in the family for a hundred years. Ours was one of the first families here. It’s hard to think about selling. But the taxes just keep going up. We could live closer to town — closer to your school and friends. It’s lonely for you up here. You’d have a lot more friends if we lived in town.”

Yeah, right.

“We don’t need such a big house, and we sure don’t need fifteen acres of land.”

“Okay, Dad,” Jacob managed to croak out. “Whatever you think.”

His father said, “Thanks for taking a look at Charlie and giving me advice, partner. I’ve got some more work to do here. What’re you up to?”

Jacob just wanted to get the hell out. “I was thinking of going down to Mavericks to see if anything’s happening. The wave report was pretty good.”

His father hesitated. “I’m sorry, but … we don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go to the shore, at least for a while.” His voice was awkward, strained.

Jacob felt his face get hot. It hadn’t occurred to him that this would be a problem. “I won’t do anything, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry, but … given what happened … we just can’t allow it. But hey, I’d be happy to go down with you. I’d love to check out the surf at Mavericks.”

“Forget it.”

“No, really, I’d love to!” Another forced smile.

“It’s okay,” said Jacob. “I’ll go to my room.”

As he got up to leave, his father said, “Don’t forget Charlie. I’d love to get more of your feedback. It’s really helpful.”

“Okay, sure.” Jacob picked Charlie up, tucked him under his arm, and carried him back to his room.

As he set Charlie back down in the closet, the robot said, “So, how about it? Want to talk about girls?”

Jacob felt sick to his stomach. There still wasn’t an Off switch. And now he couldn’t even escape his crappy life by going to the beach. Next time he’d succeed. Next time, he’d do it right.