The Time Tamperer (part 35)

Meanwhile Heathrow the plugmutt was busy expressing his concerns about Mincey Muir to his favourite RoboSecGua…

“Mincey bad girl.” He said earnestly.

RoboSecGuas were programmed to recognise earnestness when they saw it; so the machine intelligence responded favourably to the small, simple critter that stood before it. “You mentioned something similar before.” It reminded Heathrow. “Do you have any further information, upon which this Robot Security Guard can act?”

“Yeah.” Heathrow replied as he tried desperately to find the right words within his limited vocabulary. “Cushions Smethwyke.” He managed.

“The toothy broad who runs this place?” The RoboSecGua urged.

If Heathrow could have smiled it  would have been as wide as the Woven Expanse. “Yeah.” He answered. “Mincey want job. Mincey plan coop data.”

The RoboSecGua had think about this. “Hmmm.” It said at last. “Do you mean Coup D’tat?”

Heathrow decided that he did. His smile broadened to include the Wide Blue Yonder. “Yeah. We go find her now?”

So moments later passers-by failed entirely to notice the servomechanism and the plugmutt begin their search…

But, initially at least, the search did not go to plan…

For example they exposed an old and long-forgotten well, down which they peered…

…fruitlessly. Then they tried the Up and Down ramps, where they discovered a huge, evil-smelling…

…coiled pile of excrement, which the RoboSecGua examined with its mighty olfactory array.

“I don’t think this came from an earplug.” It concluded.

So it was on to the Fort Balderdash exhibit, where they interviewed visitors…

“Excuse me.” The RoboSecGua said as it accosted…

…a particularly unattractive individual with stupid hair: “Do you know the whereabouts of a beige female by the name of Mincey Muir?”

The visitor didn’t; but he made a helpful suggestion. So, a short while later, Heathrow led the RoboSecGua into the T.W.I.T control room…

Naturally Major Flaccid was the epitome of obsequiousness. “My, a representative of the security forces.” He said as he turned away from a dubious-looking experiment upon Nature Beast. “How can I help you – beside prostrating myself before you of course?”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2018


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