by DC Larson
The empty house at the end of the street had become popular, but with strange occupants. Serious men who never spoke to their neighbors came in and out all day, and sometimes even at night.
Most dressed in curious, dark clothes, wore black beards, and carried papers. One man, whom the others treated as some type of leader, peered coldly through round, wire-frame glasses. He strode determinedly, a large, red book under one arm.
Rumors circulated. But no one really knew what was going on.
A half-dozen elementary-school boys and girls, the Swayze Street Gang, were running and laughing around the old Hulsizer place. Tommy emerged from the abandoned garage, "Come in here, everybody. Take a gander at what I've discovered!"
Inside, they surrounded his surprise find. Junk and straw had been pushed aside, revealing something startling that had lain beneath.
"What is it?"
"It's a robot, stupid!"
"Well, of course, I can see that. I mean, where'd it come from?"
"Why is it just laying there?"
"It needs fixin'! Look at it!"
Indeed, it was in sorry condition. A pot-bellied thing on spindly legs, it stared with blank, red plastic eyes at the rafters. One arm hung loose, held to its socket only by green wires. A jaunty, metal pork pie hat lay a few feet away.
Its grey gun-metal hull was faded. The dust of decades covered every inch. Understandably, it didn't appear happy.
"What do you want to do with it?"
"My dad's got tools!" Tommy cried. "I'm going to try to get it working!"
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Army officer Maxwell entered the general's outer office. "I've been called to see the general on an important matter," he told the secretary, busy at her typewriter.
"Of course, go right in."
He found the general gazing out the window behind his desk. "Officer Maxwell, reporting as ordered, sir."
"Look out at that city, Maxwell. All those citizens, living their lives, pursuing their happiness, each trusting that we will protect them from foreign invasion. None know the peril now upon our very doorstep."
"Peril? I don't follow you, sir."
The general turned. "Spies, Officer Maxwell. I'm talking about spies. Right here in Clydesville."
"Spies! Here?"
"Yes, a threat to national security, right here in our own sleepy town. We've had reports of a spy ring setting up shop in the Swayze Street neighborhood. I want you to get to the bottom of it."
He turned back toward the window. "We've got to stamp out this filthy rot before it spreads. Keep me briefed. And be careful, Maxwell!"
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The kids gathered in the abandoned Hulsizer garage to admire the repaired robot. The pork pie hat was now tipped at a rakish angle.
"I worked all week on him," Tommy declared, proudly.
The boy put him through his paces. "Robot, raise your arms! Robot, jump! Robot, dance!"
You haven't seen everything until you've seen a 3 foot robot doing the Hornpipe.
The metal man was happy. His red plastic eyes flashed.
"What are we going to call him?"
"Hey, look at his eyes! Let's call him Blinky!"
A chubby member of the gang came in. He'd brought with him a tall man whose crisp green uniform and silver medals announced him as an Army officer.
"Say, who's your mechanical pal?" the man asked.
"Oh, sir, that's Blinky. He's the newest member of the Swayze Street Gang -- that's us kids!"
The little robot beeped in friendly greeting.
One of the younger kids tugged at the officer's sleeve. "Mister, are you a weal Army man?"
Maxwell chuckled and tousled the tyke's hair. "Yes, son. I'm a real Army man."
The officer became serious. "I'm looking for foreign spies, and need any information you can provide. Anything at all, even if it seems unimportant. Have you seen anything out of the ordinary in the neighborhood, lately? Any new people move in?"
"Sure! Right across the street. Strange people are always going in and out of that house, but they never say hi."
"Yeah, and the guys all have beards. My pop says they must be too poor to visit the barber shop!"
The officer dropped to a knee. "Okay, fellows. Can Uncle Sam count on your help?"
"Sure!" "Yeah!" "You bet!"
"Okay, good. Now: Nothing dangerous. Just keep your eyes and ears open. Report anything strange. I'll take it from there."
He stood. "Okay, children. Raise your right hands and I'll swear you in as junior army intelligence investigators!"
One kid held up the little robot's steel hand. "Come on, Blinky! You're in this, too!"
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The kids took turns monitoring the old house and its strange occupants. Tommy was in a tree across Swayze Street, his telescope trained on the situation.
Suddenly, the front door swung wide. Two men with long, dark beards hustled out, a thrashing woman between them. One covered her mouth with a hairy hand.
"Blinky!" Tommy shouted down to the robot that stood at the bottom of the oak. "Run to the Army base and get Officer Maxwell! As fast as you can!"
The little robot with the pot belly who only last week had lain unmoving beneath mold and debris sped toward help as quickly as his spindly legs could carry him. One hand clamped his pork pie hat, lest it fly off.
Maxwell had just completed his briefing of the general when Blinky burst into the office,
"What th--?"
"Why, that's the gang's robot, sir! Blinky! Look at his eyes blinking. He's trying to tell us there's trouble on Swayze Street. I'm on my way!"
Maxwell swerved his sedan to the curb in front of the mysterious house. One of the bearded spies stood guard in the front yard. The officer drew his revolver, then returned it to the holster. "I don't need firepower to deal with a lousy subversive!"
The kids were clustered across the street, cheering and punching the air.
The army officer whaled the daylights out of the bearded stranger. One last, old-fashioned uppercut, and the seedy spy was seeing stars.
From the side of the house came the leader, clutching the red book under one arm. His attempted escape might have succeeded, had the plucky little robot not stuck out a foot.
The leader sprawled across the lawn and his book went flying.
Maxwell grinned. "Good man, Blink!"
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At the Army base, the next day, the kids of the Swayze Street Gang were commended in official ceremony. The general himself praised their service to the country in helping smash the spy ring.
The kids lined up to receive medals. Tommy shouted: "Blinky's the real hero!"
The cheering kids hoisted the little robot onto their shoulders. His red eyes flashing, Blinky clasped his hands above his tilted pork pie hat like a prizefighter.
Copyright © 2019 David Charles Larson
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