The Flex Combobulator was pulsing again, and Rick was afraid it would start smoking again. If it did, his mother would kick him out of the house for sure. She’d had a go at him while his father, Tim, opened as many windows as he could find. Rick was amazed at how much she’d been able to complain about, and so loudly too. He was afraid the fumes would knock her out, with the amount of enraged huffs and sharp breaths she’d took, but they never did.
Anne Church was built sturdier than that, as was the rest of her family. It was just Rick’s luck that he’d picked up the strength of character and intelligence while his brother Charlie got physical strength, charisma, and enough good looks to make a movie star jealous. All the things his parents and everyone else on Earth respected. Rick rolled his eyes, and reached for his blowtorch. Hopefully the flames would discharge the combobulator and cool it down.
“Hey dude, I think your robot’s getting high.”
Rick shot the voice, owned by Bruce Dilman, an angry glare. He hoped his pitch black welding goggles emphasized it.
“What did I tell you about weed jokes at my house, man? My mom’ll make sure you never step foot in here again if she hears you.”
Bruce was Rick’s roommate in freshman year. The two young men were almost twins, with the same pale skin, green eyes, and brown hair. The only thing separating the two was their hair. Rick’s was blond, thin, and neatly cut; Bruce’s was black, thick, and nearly touched his hips.
“I’m just saying man, I don’t think the first robo-historian needs to bring weed to Rome, or Egypt, or wherever.”
“For the last time, the Historotron doesn’t travel through time. It creates a simulation of time periods and explores them thoroughly in the time it takes to ask a question. It can’t open a smoke shop in Mesopotamia.”
Rick fired up his blowtorch to cut off Bruce’s response. He stuck the tool into the Historotron’s chest, and the Flex Combobulator. The Historotron was built like the kind of Hollywood robot seen in cheesy B-movies. Every part of it was blocky, and moved on a single axis. It had two red Christmas lights for eyes, and a decades old walkie-talkie in place of a mouth. It was entirely obvious that Rick was working on a budget, but purpose mattered more than presentation. It was true for him, with his matted clothes and patchy peach fuzz, and it was true for the Historotron. He hoped it was, at least.
“Hey man,” Bruce said, with the same inquisitive tone he used for every sentence. Rick ignored him, and continued to focus on the Combobulator. He couldn’t tell from behind his goggles, but it seemed like it was getting brighter, as were the wires surrounding it.
“Dude!” That got Rick’s attention. Bruce almost never raised his voice. He shut off the blowtorch, and spun around to face him.his eyebrows raised over his goggles when he saw Bruce’s face frozen in terror.
“What is it?” Bruce raised his hand, and pointed at the Historotron. Rick looked up, into a pair of bright red lights. He shut his eyes, half from the light, and half out of annoyance. “Dude, did you just interrupt me because the lights were on? Christ, dude, i know you’re like a perpetual stoner, but this is a new low. Or would it be a new high?” Bruce moved his hand down, and Rick followed it to a plug sitting next to an empty socket. The plug powering the Historotron. Then, there was a horrible cracking noise, and a voice.
“Hello. Where would you like to go?”
Both men screamed, and ran out of the basement. They came to a crashing halt halfway up the stairs, when they ran into Rick’s brother, Charlie.
“Can you two dickweeds stop making so much noise? Mom’s getting annoyed and I don’t want to deal with that.”
“Charlie, you need to come downstairs,” Rick said through pained breaths. Just running up the stairs was more exersice than he’d gotten in the past year.
“Come to your freaky lab? I thought I was banned when I squeezed your Franken-gerbil to death.”
Bruce pushed Rick to the side and came to the forefront. “You gotta beat up our robot, man! You’re the only one who can stop it!”
Rick shot Bruce a look for using the word ‘our’, but held his tongue. Instead, he talked to a skeptical Charlie. “He’s telling the truth. I think my robot is sentient, and you need to stop it.”
Charlie looked between the two, confusion lining his every feature. Then he shrugged and barreled last them. Nick and Bruce followed behind him, though they were in no hurry to return to the basement. The trio entered the laboratory, and came face to face with the Historotron. Charlie’s eyebrows shot up, and the younger men cowered behind him. Charlie barely managed to hide his own fear by raising his fists.
“Hello,” the Historotron greeted. “Where would you like to go?”
“Bro, once I beat this thing up, we’re gonna have a real long talk, cool?” Nick just nodded, and pushed his brother forwards.
“Command not recognized. Sending you to -time period not designated-. Prepare to experience history!”
Bruce barely had time to get out a “What the hell does that mean?”, before he, Nick, and Charlie were swallowed whole by a flash of white light.
Where did the Historotron send the trio?
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