Two weeks have passed, and the spies who were chasing us are still in jail on attempted kidnapping charges. All I know about them is that they are from France and were “vacationing” in New York City. Some vacation! One scary thing I saw on the news was that when police searched their car they found two handguns, rope and duct tape, a blueprint of Norman’s design, and high-tech spy gear. Makes me wonder what they were willing to do to get Norman. And what they might have done to him had they been successful.
In France, the spies who kidnapped my uncle and cousin—Véronique and two men—were charged with kidnapping and espionage. Dad told me that none of the spies are talking to the police, but he’s hoping that the truth will come out during their trials. Did they want to destroy the robots? Or steal the technology and make their own bots? It’s quite possible, my dad thinks, that Véronique may have simply wanted to have possession of the robots so she could go public with the breakthrough and claim all the glory.
Even though Norman was a flop on The Wake Up America Show, reporters from all over the world have taken an interest in him, the world’s first robot kid. But Mom and Dad aren’t permitting interviews, and they even went to court to get an order from a judge saying that reporters aren’t allowed within one hundred feet of Norman and me. But reporters are watching our building, and they shout questions from across the street whenever we are outside. It’s beyond dumb. We are sort of like celebrities that the press will not leave alone.
My uncle Jean-Pierre is already working on the next Jean-Pierre Jr. Once the mainframe and protective shell are ready he’ll start programming the robot, including Jean-Pierre Jr. 1.0’s duplicate files, so we are all hoping he’ll be a lot like the first one, even if he’s new and improved. Jean-Pierre Jr. 2.0 should be ready around Christmas.
Some exciting news: Norman and I might get to meet Jean-Pierre Jr. 2.0 next summer. Mom and Dad have been talking about all of us vacationing for a week or two in France. Besides seeing the sights of Paris, Mom wants us to visit Lucien’s cemetery and set flowers on his grave. She told Dad that she’s finally ready to deal with Lucien’s short life and his death.
The truth? Visiting Lucien’s grave sounds creepy to me. I don’t like being anywhere near cemeteries—also known as zombie hotels!—but I think it’s something I should do so I can say hey to my lost brother. Norman feels the same way.
And even bigger news: My mom has given the okay for Norman to stay with us “indefinitely.” That happened after Dad finally told her that he’d begun working on designs for an indestructible robot kid shortly after Lucien passed away. The conversation took place in their room, with the door closed, but Norman and I were sort of listening in, outside the door. I’d like to keep the details private, but I can say this: There were lots of mushy emotions going on, on both sides of that door.
This also means that no one has been talking about scrapping Norman after the year is out and building Norman 2.0, so I hope that doesn’t happen. That would be weird, having to get used to an updated version of my brother every year or two. Plus, Norman 1.0 is already a big pest, as kid brothers go. What horrors could a new and improved Norman 2.0 bring?
On the other hand, I wouldn’t want Norman to stay twelve forever. The kid, after all, wants to be a museum curator when he grows up. So I guess what I’m hoping for is that my dad and uncle figure out a way to gently let Norman 1.0 grow older and taller. It might be a silly wish, but if anyone can make that happen, it would be my dad and uncle. Besides, what’s wrong with having a few silly wishes?
As you probably know, lots of scientists and inventors are racing to build their own robots. Not just kid robots, but also adult robots and animal robots, and I heard that some guy in Finland is working on robotic insects. Don’t ask me why!
Meanwhile, my dad and uncle are planning to build more robots, for a totally cool reason. With Mom’s help they are going to start a charity called Robot Friends, where robots will be given to sick kids so they always have a companion they can talk to and play with, even if they are in a hospital. I really like that idea. No one is sure what the world will be like when there are lots of robots running around, but I guess we’ll find out soon enough. Me? I’m happy to be a real kid instead of something you can buy at Radio Shack.
One bad thing: Now that everyone knows that Norman is a robot, he’s super popular at school again. But that’s okay, because it’s going to be a big day for me. Today is the deadline to sign up for the election to fill the empty seat on student council, and I’m nearly certain that I’m the only one who signed up. Soon I will be a government official! Who knows where this could lead? City council? The state senate? Someday I might even be the governor of New York. Hey, stop laughing, it could happen. All great leaders have to start somewhere.
Anyway, the final bell just rang, and I’m on my way to the office so Principal Jackson can tell me there’s no need for an election since I’m the only candidate, and then appoint me to the vacant council seat. I’m planning to be a little choked up when he swears me in. Might say a few words.
I’m just about at the office when I see Annie Bananas, a thick stack of flyers cradled in her arm, tacking one up on a bulletin board. The flyer says, “Vote Norman Rambeau for Student Council. For a brave new tomorrow!”
Oh no. No!
“Hi, Matt,” Annie says. “I talked Norman into signing up for the student council election. Won’t that be fun, brother versus brother in a battle for the seat? Though I think Norman is going to kick your butt. And guess what? I’m his campaign manager!”
Grrr . . . Grrr . . . Grrr . . .
Now Annie is taping a different flyer to a wall that says, “Norman’s promise: a new laptop for every student.” Hmm. I guess that’s a better platform than returning the soda machine to the cafeteria, or even starting a Stinky Sneaker Day, but no way can our school afford a laptop for every kid. They can’t even keep the bathrooms filled with paper towels.
But maybe I better hire a campaign manager so I can come up with some bigger ideas, and cool posters. I wonder if Jeter would be up for it, though his campaign slogans would probably involve pirates. “Vote for Matthew Rambeau, mateys, or you’ll catch the dreaded scurvy.”
Actually, that’s pretty good. What kid would want to catch scurvy? Maybe I should write it down so I don’t forget.
While I’m hunting in my backpack for a pen, I hear a chant, “Norman . . . Norman . . . Norman,” and see my brother on the shoulders of a big kid named Jason Reeves, surrounded by dozens of kids calling Norman’s name. The computerized creep is already having his first campaign rally.
“Bonjour, Matt,” Norman says, smiling and waving when he and his gang of supporters get closer. “Good luck with the election.”
“Good luck to you, too, Norman,” I say, waving back to him and grinning. But this is what I’m thinking: You are going down, robot brother!
Well, friend, we are all caught up. As far as what will happen next with Mom, Dad, and Norman and me, who knows? A long stretch of normalcy might be nice. But I’m starting to think that the possibility of long stretches of normalcy kind of went flying out the window the day Norman showed up in his box. And that’s okay with me.
Anyway, thanks so much for listening to my story, and for not jumping ship during the boring parts. This also means, you guessed it, it’s finally later. High-five!
