The robots of Steam-Powered Giraffe meet Van Rijn’s Muses.
{Fldth-whomp}
“I’m not saying she wasn’t a nice lady, Hatchy, I’m saying you really should have given that big, dangly robot her portal gun back. It’s done weird things to your cannon.”
“I like my new can-non,” grumbled a second voice. Presumably Hatchy.
“I’m k-k-kinda fond of it m-m-m-myself.” said a third. “But it’s t-takin’ us from p-pickle ta pickle, bro.”
Tinka had decided she didn’t like the sound of these strangers. In a case of three against one, Tinka inevitably came out as the loser.
She had lost enough already.
So she did the dumbest thing you could do in a room with three sudden strangers. She moved and tried to hide.
“We ain’t al-l-l-lone, fellas,” said the third.
“Well, hello there,” cheered the first. “Don’t be alarmed, we mean no harm. We’re just you’re regular, average, everyday steam powered autonomous automatons..”
“Speak for yourself, b-b-bro. I’d rath-rath-rather say we’re super awesome.”
“Rabbit, we’re trying to make friends, here… Not scare them worse.”
“Let me try?” said Hatchy.
“What? It wor-works on the stage.”
“Please let me try,” said Hatchy.
“We’re not on a stage, Rabbit.”
“Why’d ya gotta be such a wet b-b-b-b-blanket, th'Spine?”
Th'Spine and Rabbit continued to bicker. Twin blue lanterns swept the area with spotlights. “Hello?” said Hatchy. “I am friendo. Would you like to say hel-lo?”
Tinka tried the hat on the stick trick.
“That is a ve-ry nice hat, friendo. You can put it back on. We will not harm you. My name is Hatch-worth. What’s yours?”
“Ti-Tink-Tink-Tinka…” she risked a peek. “I nee-nee-nee-need re-rep-air-air-airs…”
“Ooh, no won-der you were scared. It’s all right now. We can help.”
*
The other two were The Spine and Rabbit. Twin clanks of an original four made by a Colonel Walter. Aka ‘Pappy’.
Their family was more intact that hers. Simply because the people around them cared for the clanks as if they were merely artificial people.
“These are Walter Robotics maintenance nanites,” said The Spine. It was a small vial of grey goo that… squirmed. “Keep them in the vial and on your person for three days, at least. Then you can pour them over your gears and they should keep you up to snuff.”
“They need that long to make your ac-quain-tance,” added Hatchy.
“And I d-d-d-don’t like 'em,” added Rabbit. “I wanna be outta here before they happen t’ me.”
The Spine merely rolled his eyes, as if they’d had an argument about that a thousand times before. “Frankly, ma'am, we don’t belong in this world. We’re trying to get home.”
“Where is home?” asked Tinka, clutching the tiny vial to her chest.
“San Diego,” said Rabbit.
“That’s in A-mer-i-ca,” added Hatchworth.
Tinka almost swooned. The highly hazardous Americas? And they lived there?
“And another reality,” clarified The Spine. “Most of the time, it’s rather boring.”
“Except when I’m ar-r-r-round,” added Rabbit.
Tinka watched them walk through a hole in reality to yet another world. How long had they been wandering? How much longer would they be doing so?
She contemplated the vial. They had never said she had to use all of it on herself…
The next time she found one of her sisters, she would be prepared…
[Muse food remaining: 42. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]