Oh, it hurts, oh, it hurts. The noise, what's that noise, the bang? Gosh, it's so loud. Aaaah, it's water pouring from the tap. Gosh, my head hurts. It's a tough life for a birthday boy. I know a 25th birthday is a once-in-a-lifetime special occasion, but why did everyone want to make friends yesterday? It was supposed to be a small party. Five, six people in a polite pub. How could I have forgotten that the local team played yesterday? Judging by the joyful shouts of the fans who stormed the pub, the match was won. Someone must have let slip that it was my birthday. "Dude, you have to drink with us, cheers, man," they said. But why the hell did I have to drink with everyone separately? That was my day, hehe, and now it's my morning. Oh, my, can a head be amputated?
Bang, bang!!! What's that? Oh, someone's knocking on the door.
"Good morning, honey," Mom said firmly, speaking too loudly today. "I'm off to work now. There's a cutlet in the fridge. Heat it up for dinner. You have to go down to the basement for the potatoes, though. Oh, and one more thing. You have to give that nice, colorful scarf back to your friend. To that friend who walked you home yesterday. Such a nice guy. Wait, what was his name? I think it was Wyldstyle.
Who's Wyldstyle again? I don't know anyone like that. I definitely have to remember last night. And what kind of dinner? As the world has it, and since the dawn of time, people have eaten breakfast first after waking up. Hey, is it two o'clock already? Well, I had a good night's sleep.
I dragged myself out of bed. Of course, the usual problem immediately arose. Where are any clean socks? My dear brother went off to the country yesterday and confiscated all the clean underwear. I'll check under the bed. Oh, there are some socks, and even some fairly clean ones. Just shake the dust off.
Gosh, what a headache. I wonder if we have any pills for that at home." Arsenic is best. Swallow, drink, and peace is assured forever. There's aspirin—maybe. Water, where's the water? Why, when you always need it, is there never any? The jug is empty. I won't drink from the tap. Like a yogurt commercial—it contains live bacteria. Anthrax softens with whatever the waterworks throw at us. Luckily, there's still some milk in the fridge. There's also a cutlet. Wait a minute, I was supposed to make something. Potatoes. And where are they supposed to be?? But indeed—in the basement.
***
At the same time, somewhere in orbit around a planet classified as X-246, a scout ship was moving. On board, a robot was receiving the final command from its home planet.
Mission objective: to investigate the discovered civilization. Select a random representative of the race and test its suitability for the job.
The robot headed towards a huge monitor. The image showed the planet in all its glory. It was growing larger and larger, slowly filling the entire screen. Cities could already be discerned on its surface. The robot activated its cloaking system and directed the ship towards one of them. It scanned the area. In a strange, elongated concrete structure, it spotted a descending creature. It seemed to be of productive age, in its prime. The ship landed silently on the building's roof, interrupting the slumber of several winged creatures, which took off and fled in different directions. The doors slid open silently. The robot headed towards the chosen individual.
***
The padlock had long since rusted through and was becoming increasingly difficult to open with each passing day. I reassured myself once again that I would visit the hardware store soon. Finally, it gave way. I switched on the light. The dim, flickering glow of a bulb illuminated the interior. Potatoes stood in a wooden crate at the very corner of the room. I reached for them.
"Tititit, prlitpluplum," I heard suddenly. What the hell was that sound? I turned and froze.
Something stood on the basement threshold. A round metal box with antennae and lights flickering in different colors. It was making these strange sounds. "What's going on? Someone left me an old, broken washing machine?" I muttered under my breath. I moved toward it. "Pipipipi," it squealed menacingly, and the lights flashed burgundy. I stood in astonishment. A self-propelled "Frania"? Impossible. "Hey, is anyone there?" I shouted into the basement corridor. "Someone, someone..." the echo returned. And then something very strange happened. The Frania creaked, beeped several times, and I heard,
"Greetings, representative of the local civilization. I am Artudiditutu. A robot scout from the planet Kadotar. I come in peace." I'm warning you though – don't come any closer!!
I did. And that was probably a mistake.
***
My head stopped hurting. That's good news. But there's also bad news – everything hurts now except my head. That damn washing machine must have electrocuted me. But where am I anyway? I looked around. I was lying on something resembling a table in something resembling a room. I got up. The "washing machine" was there too, of course.
"Where am I?" I asked irritably. No more celebrating birthdays away from home. I'm not feeling well. I'm talking to the washing machine, and – what's worse – it talks back.
"I'm sorry. I had to restrain you. You attacked me," the reproach in "Frani's" metallic voice was all too audible.
"Attack the washing machine? Frania, think about it. I wanted to look for some kind of transmitter. I thought someone was joking. But wait – you're not lying to me here? Are you really from another planet?" - I just looked around the room. I saw a lot of glowing buttons and a large screen with a view that reminded me of something.
"Is this Earth?" I groaned, pointing at the monitor.
"It's planet X-246, lying on the outskirts of the galaxy—as you call it—Earth."
I stood up and walked over to the screen. Earth was visible in all its glory. Europe, America, Australia—continents bathed in vast oceans, crisscrossed by rivers, dotted with stretches of forest and mountain ranges. The view was breathtaking. In other circumstances, I would certainly be grateful for the opportunity to see our planet from orbit. Well, in other circumstances, indeed. I felt uneasy. I looked at the robot suspiciously.
"Frania, why did you kidnap me?
" "Please don't call me Frania," the robot rasped tearfully. "I'm Artudiditutu, a robot scout. And I didn't kidnap you. You attacked me, and I had to defend myself. I'm sorry, but now I must test you.
" "What tests?" I shouted. Images from alien movies flashed before my eyes—chemical experiments, autopsies. Oh no, I didn't like this at all. I stepped back, leaned against the wall, set my guard, glared at the robot, and, trying to sound menacing, said, "You're not cutting me up, you little brat!"
The robot's lights flashed with surprise. "I'm not going to cut you up. Frankly, you've already undergone the first tests while you were unconscious. Your body has been scanned. I even have the results. Oh, please: 'A primitive life form built on protein. It breathes oxygen, which is delivered to the tissues through tubes from a muscle that acts as a pump. Its small brain doesn't indicate telepathic abilities. The presence of minute amounts of alcohol in its blood is noteworthy. It's still unknown what purpose this compound serves.'
The blood of the cavalryman's grandfather boiled within me. I'll fucking give them 'primitive life form, pump, small brain.' This is a dirty piece of junk. I'll fucking show him. "Give me those tests," I said.
The robot rasped and flashed its lights happily. "I'm glad you agree, and I don't have to use the stun gun again. Something easy first. We'll test your intellectual abilities. What's 126634628 times 565341887? And please take the cube root of the result."
I cleared my throat. "Yeah, 'something easy.' Okay, let's get this straight. Seven times eight is... No, damn it, that's impossible." "How much time do I have?" I asked timidly.
"You don't have to do any more math. Your mathematical skills are minimal. Now, please pick up the package over there." The robot pointed to a spot in the corner with its antenna. I moved toward the metal box there.
"Not like this. Do it from here," Artudiditutu objected.
"What do you mean from here?
" "I understand." No telekinetic abilities either. I must admit, you disappoint me. Fine, bring it up your way.
Already thoroughly irritated, I approached the object. I grabbed the handle and tried to lift it. I gasped with the effort. The damn thing weighed a ton. It didn't budge. And apparently, everything seems lighter in space.
"I've set the ship's gravity to match your planet's," the robot hurried to explain.
"Wait a minute, are you reading my mind?" I was surprised.
"Of course. Every civilized race in space, even at the lowest level of development, can communicate telepathically. And we robots have this ability perfectly developed. Only barbarian civilizations can't."
I angrily considered my opinion of all space civilizations combined, especially robots. Artudiditutu recoiled, shocked.
"How can you think that way? Your race, as I see, is particularly aggressive. You're not fit for it. Weak, stupid, and, on top of that, unruly and nervous." There will be no profit in you.
These words puzzled me. "Frania, I don't think you've told me something," I tried to maintain a semblance of calm. "What are we supposed to be unsuitable for?"
"Oh, didn't I tell you anything?" the tin man feigned surprise. "The civilization of my creators needs slaves to work in the mines of a certain, hmmmm, troublesome resource. It usually happens that after a month of work, each conquered race mutates and is no longer suitable for the work. That's why there are so many missions like mine floating in space. We're looking for races that are suitable for the work. But you're probably not worth conquering.
" "Conquer?
" "Of course. After all, the stronger always exploits the weaker. The same laws govern space as on your miserable little planet. But you're a waste of energy. There's no profit in your work, and there's no point in destroying you. Looking at what you're doing to your planet, you'll destroy yourselves."
I panted. Rage took hold of me. "You bloated tin man, a pile of rusty knobs, a galactic fart!" With a battle cry, I lunged at the robot. I grabbed the protruding antenna and yanked it in all directions. Something snapped, creaked, then there was only a flash, a burning sensation, and I felt myself falling into darkness.
***
I woke up in the basement. My whole body ached, as if I'd been electrocuted. There were two dark spots on my body near my ribs. In my hand was a piece of wire. I stood up, dusted myself off, grabbed a bucket of potatoes, closed the basement door, and went home. My anger vanished. I'd finally saved the planet from invasion.
***
My friends tell me I'm crazy. For months now, I've been locking myself in the basement and not letting anyone in. I've been bringing in loads of scrap metal and tinkering with things. And I'm just building a rocket. One fine day I'll go into space, catch that damn tin can, and then I'll prove to him that even in the theory of the weaker being exploited by the stronger, there are exceptions.
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