KUBA

Kuba came to me quite by accident.

There was a time in my life when, looking for work and income, I had to live far from my family, my wife and children. I earned a decent living, and the family was doing quite well at the time, but it took a lot of effort. I'm a family man by nature. Although I often came home, this separation was terribly burdensome, and even though it lasted several years, I could never fully adjust to it. I couldn't adapt to this lifestyle.

Due to the nature of my job, there were days, sometimes weeks, when I didn't even exchange a word with anyone. This deepened my nostalgia and further pushed me into an almost chronic depression.

During that time, I tried various ways to improve my mood, but neither books, radio, nor television could replace someone to talk to. I had neither the time nor the inclination to chat online.

One day, while walking alone, I stopped at a pet store. I gladly stopped in during my few free moments to look at the fish. While I didn't like reptiles in the terrarium, I didn't have to look at them, and besides the fish, there were some nice, active animals there, and I could even chat with the salesperson.

While I was examining the fish with interest, a screeching cry of "disgusting reptile" caught my attention. I looked around the shop, but apart from the salesperson, who was feeding the snakes, I didn't see anyone else. I thought the guy's voice had changed very strangely, and I continued examining my fish.

"Disgusting, fat snake," the same voice screeched again.

"You don't like snakes?" I asked the salesperson.

He smiled at me and replied in a very pleasant, unchanged, soft voice.

"It's not me, it's Kuba who doesn't like snakes. Every time I feed them and someone's in the shop, they say the same thing." He pointed to the parrot's perch in the corner.

It was only now that I noticed it. I'd never been interested in parrots; I didn't know the differences between them, though I was aware there were different species. I'd heard that some of them could be taught a few words.

"Does this Kuba know how to talk?"

"I don't know. The only thing he keeps saying is 'disgusting reptile and disgusting fat snake.'" Oh, and he still curses sometimes.

Driven by a strange inner impulse, I took a closer look at the parrot. As I've already mentioned, I wasn't an expert on them, and I didn't notice anything special about its appearance, yet something about this bird drew me in. Perhaps I was intrigued by the way it looked at me. It tilted its head strangely and looked with one eye, tracing my figure up and down, as if to assess me.

"If this parrot can talk, it must be very expensive, right?" I asked.

"It's not a she, it's a he, as the name suggests," the seller replied. "And it's not expensive because I've had it for three years and I can't sell it. It doesn't fit any breed, and breeders won't even look at it, and when a child insists that their parents buy it, they usually start cursing viciously and the whole thing comes to nothing. I bought it on a whim from some strange, taciturn man who claimed he found it one day on a window sill. He wanted a ridiculous amount for it. I saw that Kuba was some kind of mixed breed, but I thought I could sell it quickly, even though it's not a purebred, and make a good profit, so I bought it. It's been with me ever since. I have to admit, it doesn't give me any trouble, but if you're interested, I'll give it away for next to nothing. I'll just have to make some money on the perch it sits on, and I won't have to feed it anymore." He doesn't need a cage or a chain, because so far he's never tried to fly away and is exceptionally calm.

I had no intention of buying any pet, much less a parrot. However, the thought that I might finally have someone to talk to pushed me towards the perch with Kuba, who, as if understanding what we were talking about, shifted from one foot to the other and looked at me from one eye to the other.

"Fine, I'm buying him," I decided.

Kuba jumped onto my shoulder, squawking, "I'm buying him, I'm buying him.

" "I think he likes you," the salesman smiled. He packed me Kuba's perch, his water and food bowls. He added a package of food and tried to put the bird in a large paper bag with small holes, but he jumped onto my other shoulder, deftly avoiding the salesman's hands and ruffling his face.

"Leave him alone, if he prefers to sit on my shoulder, then let him sit there. It's not that far from home again, I don't think he'll escape, and even if he does, that's his choice.

" "As you wish," the salesperson said, clearly amused by Kuba's behavior.

I paid and left the store. Kuba was clearly pleased. He shifted from foot to foot on my shoulder and looked curiously up and down the street, showing no signs of escaping. Passersby glanced at us curiously, some smiled kindly, and children pointed at us. I felt a bit strange. We reached my apartment without any problems.

I was wondering where to place Kuba's bar when he jumped from my shoulder to the edge of the closet, and it definitely seemed to me that he was pointing to the opposite corner of the room, somewhere between the TV and the computer desk. That was my mini botanical garden. So I placed Kuba's bar next to some lush ferns, under a spreading philodendron. He flew over to it and I got the impression that he was very happy with the place.

The days passed monotonously, as usual; I spent almost all my time away from home, and I felt a bit sorry for the poor bird, who spent all day alone. Every day after work, whenever I had time, which I had terribly little of, I tried to talk to Kuba. For several weeks, however, I failed to teach him a single word, although he always cocked his head when I spoke to him and seemed to be listening intently. It must be admitted, however, that he never cursed or complained about the nasty snakes, which seemed quite natural to me, since I didn't have any at home. He only surprised me during the few visits from friends, when he usually turned his back to us and occasionally whistled softly. I then got the impression that Kuba was fully aware of what was happening in the room.

One day, when I returned in a particularly doggy mood, I said,

"Kuba, I wish I'd bought you." I thought you'd learn to talk and have someone to talk to, at least, but what about you? You just eat, make a mess, and that's all you're good for.

Kuba's face prickled and his tail turned to me.

"Okay, okay, don't be so sensitive. You have to admit I'm right."

I turned off the light and went to bed.

One time I unexpectedly came home from work much earlier. I was surprised to find the TV on; I could have sworn I hadn't turned it on that morning. Before leaving for work, I'd briefly turn on the radio or TV to check the time. But I was almost certain I hadn't done that today.

I made a silly joke, so I went along with it.

"I see you watch TV, brother. Maybe you'll finally learn to talk."

To my surprise, Kuba cocked his head and squawked.

"Talk, talk.

" "Well, man, you're making progress, if that's the case, you can watch as much as you want." I continued joking.

Often in the evenings, I'd read something before bed, and then I'd throw the book on the floor under my bed, turn out the light, and fall asleep. In the morning, having no time to clean up, I didn't bother picking it up and went to work. Once, after returning home, I found books on the floor I hadn't touched in a long time, and I could have sworn I hadn't read any of them the night before.

This might have happened only once, but when I had to clean the book off the floor almost every day, it started to annoy me. Surely I'm not so sclerotic that I can't remember what I did the day before.

One day, irritated and not thinking about what I was saying, I screamed upon entering the apartment.

"Kuba, damn it, I can finally try to understand that some shitty parrot watches TV and reads books, even though it's almost impossible, but I can't understand why he doesn't clean them up after reading them!

" "And how am I supposed to do that, you smartass, and no, shitty, okay!? "

I stood, mouth agape, facing Kuba.

"Oh, Kuba, I think you'll have to explain something to me. Don't you think, friend?

" "What's there to explain? I'm not what I seem, and to understand me, you'd have to be several hundred years old, like me.

" "Well, you can always try, maybe I'll manage to understand something from your explanations.

" "You've surely heard of the Tunguska disaster?

" "I think very few people haven't. Just don't try to tell me it was your doing, or that you had anything to do with it.

" "Not mine directly, but my friend's, and I happen to have a lot to do with it.

" "But you're talking nonsense, you don't really think I'll believe you."

"Maybe you could let me start over.

" "For a while now, I've been dreaming of nothing else. I want someone to explain to me why there are books scattered on the floor every day, and why my TV is on when I'm not home. Probably my computer too; someone's always using it.

" "Of course I use it. And by the way, your internet is terribly primitive.

" "That's not enough, I'm waiting for an explanation!" I raised my voice.

"So don't interrupt, don't shout, and listen patiently. Books, television, and computer will be at the end of this story. I must begin by saying that, along with several members of my race, I participated in reconnaissance on the outskirts of the galaxy. A long way from my home planet. Our automated probes transmitted information that in that part of the galaxy there was a planet possessing highly developed living forms, perhaps with some degree of technological civilization. So we directed our spacecraft in that direction. Closer examination of the planet confirmed the initial information. There was indeed a sentient race on this planet in the early stages of technological development. True, it was a humanoid race, not an ornithological one like ours, as your race's science would define it. Ornithological forms also existed on this planet, but they were at an embarrassingly low level. I'm speaking, of course, of your Earth. One pair from our crew was ordered to thoroughly investigate the planet. My friend and I were chosen. We landed in the southern hemisphere, among what we thought were related ornithological species. That was our mistake. Despite taking all the necessary precautions, we caught a virulent virus, and before the medical equipment could produce an antidote, it was too late. She died. I was left alone. Our crew commander decided to land and make contact with the dominant race. Making this decision was our mistake. Your race, as our observations indicated, was aggressive, arrogant, and, needless to say, primitive, both psychologically and technologically. You were just entering the beginnings of a technological civilization. You still had centuries of development ahead of you, and our technologies could prove disastrous. Contact, at the appropriate level, was therefore doubtful, and our craft was not designed for combat operations or planetary landing. Its design virtually precluded entering a planet's atmosphere. There was no consensus among the crew on where to land. During landing approach, when the force shield was removed for a split second, a stray meteorite, unnoticed at the right moment, struck one of the thrusters, changing the vehicle's flight path and the angle of its atmospheric entry. This accident ended tragically for the entire crew. Our vehicle exploded several dozen meters above the planet's surface, near the northern Arctic Circle. Your scientists to this day cannot explain the mystery of the Tunguska Meteorite, and I was left alone of the entire crew. In a fit of irrational despair, I destroyed our first lander, which would have been impossible to return home with anyway. I tried to civilize the tribe of the species most closely related to me, but the genetic differences between us prevented me from procreating. The eggs laid by the females I tried to fertilize produced no offspring. I was unable to remedy this without a suitable laboratory.especially since I'm not a geneticist. I tried to contact the leading race, or humans as you call yourselves, but no one took what I had to say seriously.

Through certain means, I managed to accelerate the development of your race a bit—you know, a few anonymous suggestions, phone calls to various scientists, thanks to which they were able to study what I suggested and how I suggested. I estimate that thanks to this, you're at least a hundred years ahead of what you could have achieved without my help. As you can see, I'm an altruist. Although I didn't act entirely selflessly. I still hoped that I would one day return to myself. Now I know that won't happen. It's just a shame you can't seize the opportunity. You've wasted most of what I gave Tesla. You're still terribly primitive mentally. You place too much value on money and a comfortable life, and worst of all, you can't shake off the aggression innate to predators. This is slowing your development.

I listened without blinking, open-mouthed, like a complete idiot. His story made a stunning impression on me.

"Well, aren't you afraid that I'll go public with this now? They'll start interrogating and torturing you. After all, your knowledge can be monetized quite nicely.

" "Firstly, no one will believe you; if I don't speak up, they'll say you're crazy, they'll ridicule and mock you. Secondly, you, as a race, are too greedy for money to use my knowledge for the good of the entire planet, and that's why I won't speak up, because I certainly won't reveal it to a few sly guys who would like to make money off of this knowledge. As I said, you disregarded and commercialized the knowledge I gave Tesla. You could have had free energy and development several times faster. Unfortunately, with your scientific training, my knowledge will be of no use to you. I've made some efforts to ensure that you can implement some of my ideas to the best of your ability and derive some benefits from it. Thirdly, as I mentioned, I've lost hope of returning. I've noticed certain symptoms of approaching death in myself." By your standards, I'm over five hundred years old, and although under normal conditions I could live another two hundred years, here I'm, unfortunately, reaching the end of my life. Your atmosphere contains no hydrogen gas, and the pressure is lower than on my home planet, and these factors determine lifespan. Not only mine, but yours as well. So you see, I have nothing to fear. I used your internet connection. You'll find further instructions under the password I'll give you. The access code to a portion of my knowledge, divided into several thematic groups, is one hundred and twenty characters long, but its concept is easy to remember, so you shouldn't have any trouble recreating it. I used the first letters of the words of your most frequently sung songs.

"Look." He flew to the computer keyboard and began typing in the letters. The password was indeed simple.

***

By a strange coincidence, after our groundbreaking conversation, I rarely had the opportunity to talk to Kuba.

The series of time-consuming activities so absorbed and consumed me that I came home very late every day, went to bed quickly, and left before dawn. With Kuba, I exchanged only casual exchanges like,

"Hi, how was your day?"

or "

I'm exhausted, we'll talk when this grind is over."

Most often, Kuba simply replied,

"Go to sleep."

Sometimes he added,

"I'm doing just fine without you."

I didn't ask him how he was doing so well without my help.

I saw that the floor was strewn with books I'd never seen in my apartment before. One day, Kuba noticed my surprised look at the title of one and casually said a few words.

"Don't worry, I've ordered a few titles." I pay online, and when the package arrives, I have it dropped through the mailbox, explaining that I can't open it at the moment because I'm in the bathtub, and I leave a delivery receipt at the door. This has never surprised a delivery person. Everything goes smoothly and everything is fine.

"If it's fine, then fine," I replied, nodding my head in apparent understanding, and went to bed.

On Friday, I woke up before four in the morning. It was still quite dark outside. The first overnight frosts had covered the gray stumps of the trees with a shimmering silver rime. I was just finishing a quick breakfast when Kuba jumped from his perch to the edge of the table where I was sitting.

"Hi. You woke up early today," I said. "

Oh, yes. I needed to talk to you before you left the house. I know you're finishing up those very urgent tasks of yours today, and starting tomorrow, you'll have more time. I'd like you not to make any plans for the next two days."

"Hmm, I already had a pretty good rest planned for these two days. You know, sleep, read, laze around. Maybe a movie on TV, some computer time. I was planning on doing some great cooking for the whole next week, and stuff like that, but if you insist, I'll postpone those urgent activities.

" "But you can have those kinds of plans, though I'll spoil them a bit, but not too much. I think you'll have a nice time these two days.

" "Until tonight then. I'm in a hurry," I said, getting up from the table.

"OK, I still have a few things to take care of," Kuba replied, returning to his desk.

I checked if I had my car key in my pocket, grabbed my bag with my documents from the closet, and left.

On Saturday, I woke up around eight. I rolled over in bed, grabbed a book to read, and put it aside after a few pages. I got up, took a quick shower, and made myself some strong coffee, a thick, black slurp. It used to be called "Turkish coffee," but it has nothing to do with actual Turkish coffee, but that's how it stuck.

As usual, I poured plain water and poured coffee beans into Kuba's bowls, while he watched me from his bar.

"So, are you awake yet?" he asked. "Are you ready to talk?

" "Oh my, what a formal tone. Kuba, you're so serious. Let's just say I'm almost awake and we can talk.

" "So listen carefully. We'll go to the suburbs now. I'll give you the address on the way, or rather, I'll drive you. Get dressed and we'll leave. Oh, and by the way, tell me what it was that was so absorbing you these past few days."

"You know, we were finishing this rather extensive garden. Apparently, it was for some boss in the oil industry. The boss was determined to finish the plantings before winter, because by spring it was supposed to be green and the garden was supposed to look several years old. But as you can see, winter is already on its way, and as usual, I was doing some things myself, so we had to hurry. Apparently, the guy didn't even show up during the entire construction of the house or while the garden was being laid. A representative of his company handled everything online. Before construction began, he had cameras installed on the corners of the property and constantly monitored everything without showing up at the construction site. Initially, my boss had his doubts—you know, it was about the money, but all the payments were coming in regularly and without any problems, so we had to do the job as best we could, and we succeeded."

Kuba listened to my story and, as is his custom, glanced at me from one eye, then the other. "

Do you like what you did?

" "Of course. Besides, for that kind of money, it had to be done 100% perfectly. It's a shame you didn't see the building in that garden; it's also a work of art, brother." The guy hasn't even been there yet, and there's a brand new Merc off-roader in the garage. I'm telling you, a ton of money. Okay, but getting back to our business, where and why do you want to go to the suburbs?

Wouldn't it be better to just sit at home in front of the TV or at the computer—I know you like that—and I'll read something, lie down, or just relax.

"Maybe this afternoon. Right now, I have something very urgent to attend to. I promise that tomorrow, if you want, I'll let you sleep in until you're dead.

" "Yeah. You know? You're quite a pain in the ass. I gave you my word, fine. I'm getting dressed."

Kuba sat on the back of the passenger seat in my old Escort, guiding me with curt instructions.

"Now, right.

" "Left at the traffic light."

"Go straight."

I quickly realized we were heading towards the district where I'd last worked.

"I know this part of town; it was in this suburb that we were finishing up the last garden, the one I told you about.

" "I know. We're just getting there. Right?

" "True.

" "Well, we'll be pulling into that property soon.

" "Don't joke. No one will let us in. The boss wouldn't even let us take pictures of that garden at the end.

" "I'll explain everything when we get there.

" I drove up to the gate, honestly, a little scared. "What's that little bird up to?" I thought.

My surprise and astonishment were complete when the gate opened automatically in front of my car.

"Pull up to the main entrance to the building.

" "What are you doing? You'll get me in trouble and I'll get fired

." "Don't exaggerate. We're at home."

"What are you talking about, man... Kuba, it's home."

"You said yourself that no one knew who owned this house, and now you're surprised when I say it belongs to us, that is, technically to our company, of which you are the main owner and I am a silent shareholder.

" "What nonsense are you spouting? What company? Whose company? I don't have any company... What does that even mean? Kuuba!

" "Come on, don't get upset. We're going inside, we'll talk in your office. I have a few more surprises, so I'd prefer you calmly take everything I say to you very seriously.

" "OK. Kuba, maybe you have a reason to talk to me this way, but don't be surprised if it shocks me. I'm not prepared for this, and I'd rather not have a heart attack because of your ideas. Of course, I wouldn't want to end up in jail either."

The office Kuba was talking about was located on the ground floor of the building, on the left side of the spacious hall. "

So sit down and listen. I'll try to explain a few basic things to you." You noticed quite a while ago that computers are no mystery to me, and since I had a lot of time on my hands, I decided to do something useful. In addition to the database, the password to which I gave you during our last serious conversation, I set up several online accounts and, using the internet, opened several companies. These are mostly international companies operating in the oil industry. It wasn't easy, but in your world, money solves everything, and I really can earn enormous sums of money at lightning speed without leaving my computer. What we're talking about now is actually just a sideline of my business. Truthfully, something else entirely occupied my attention.

I looked at Kuba and must have looked terribly stupid, because he just flapped his wing when I tried to speak.

"Wait. Don't say anything. We'll get to the best part later. Look at that painting on the right. It's more of a bas-relief than a painting, and it's actually neither. Notice the column-like element." With that, Kuba jumped to the keyboard of the computer on his desk.

I was surprised to see how skillfully he used the keyboard. For the first time, I had the opportunity to see both his paws and beak darting across the keys.

"Don't stare at me like that. Look where I told you."

I shifted my gaze to the bas-relief painting. Between the columns, something began to crystallize. Actually, it wasn't anything in particular. The air there seemed to be thick, slightly hazy, pulsating with a strange depth.

Kuba flitted about on the keyboard, casually commenting on what he was doing.

"Look, what's appeared between the columns is an energetic, real-life realization of virtual space. After all, the universe is pure energy. Matter is merely its manifestation. You just have to know how to use it." Don't be surprised, it's possible, of course, with the right equipment. Remember? I once told you that your internet is terribly primitive. So I had to work on it a bit and adapt some things to our needs.

Several of your companies made several copies of biocomputer components for me. I placed them in various locations around the world and connected them into a network, and added a bit of specialized equipment, of course, purchased from other specialists inspired by me. Simple! Right? In this office, there's something like the main server of this system. The best part is that we can now travel between individual stations in the network.

"Excuse me, do you mean we can teleport?" I stammered, shocked.

"Teleport right away! These journeys are only possible within this single network and nothing else. I can't transfer anything to any place that isn't covered by our network. Hell, if I could, I'd be home by now. However, if you'd like to see what's happening at our company's branch in Australia, please let me know." You just need to code the number of the receiving station in Australia, and you'll be there in practically no time. The network has just been activated and is operational. The screens you see on the right show images from the individual branches.

I can see you're looking in disbelief. So we'll conduct an experiment. I'll go visit any branch you choose, and you can monitor on the appropriate screen whether I've arrived there, and I'll be back in a moment. To make sure, I'll bring something with me.

"Okay, let's say the branch in Brazil. I think it's the third screen from the top in the second row. There's a bouquet of flowers on the desk over there. Bring me that crimson orchid."

"Of course, partner. It's ready!"

Kuba flew towards the painting and disappeared into the gray, misty mass between the pillars. Almost at the same moment, he appeared between the pillars of the bas-relief on the monitor showing the relay station at the Brazilian branch. He waved his wing at me. He walked with his strange gait to a huge vase on the desk and pulled a red orchid from it with his beak. He showed it to me as if to ask if I was referring to that flower, and when I nodded, he said yes, he flew towards the station. He immersed himself in the mass of matter and emerged from the teleporter station directly in front of me.

"Yeah, that's a neat trick," I said. "These cameras show rooms behind doors obscured by mist; it's even easy to do with artificial smoke or fog.

" "You don't suspect this is just a joke, do you?" Kuba looked at me, clearly offended. "These cameras are actually located in our company's branches around the world." If you don't believe me, go see for yourself how different landscapes can be seen from the windows of these offices. Many have different times of day than ours. You can also go outside. Don't worry, your data is everywhere: fingerprints, irises, DNA codes; all the machines will recognize you as the owner and let you through without the slightest problem.

"You know, I don't have the courage, especially if you're right. What could I possibly see from the window of the Japanese branch?

" "Maybe it's snowed already? The branch is on the outskirts of Tokyo, and you'll only see the city from a distance." Without a doubt, however, behind the office door, in the secretary's office, sits a slant-eyed beauty who speaks quite good Polish. I've already spoken to her. I hired her, like all the other employees in all the companies, online.

"I can't believe what you're saying, Kuba.

" "Then go and check it out. It couldn't be simpler.

" "Okay, even if you're right and this contraption works as you say, we'll have nothing but problems." First, if someone manufactured these biocomputers for us, then there's no problem in them producing the next batch, and the next, and so on. Second, if we created a network from them, then we can create a network from these next batches as well, which leads directly to the third conclusion: if we can teleport within this network, it will quickly become a popular skill, which will result in the collapse of a whole host of automotive and communications industries. Consequently, we're sawing off the branch we're sitting on, because the entire oil industry will collapse.

"Well, brother, you've talked a lot." Kuba, as usual, looked at me from one eye to the other. "And maybe you'd be right, but there's a catch. Firstly, the biocomputer wasn't made for us by a single contractor; rather, several small companies were commissioned online to create various strange, even nonsensical, things that no one actually knew who was going to use or what they were supposed to be used for. Of course, I made sure that the designs for these strange things were self-destructive. You know, a tiny, undetectable virus that destroys the project's program after a certain period of time, even if it's been copied. During the copying process, it introduces, let's call it, innovations that completely change the meaning of the project. "

I stared blankly at Kuba, not believing what I was hearing, and he continued. "

Of course, we have the indestructible originals of these designs. Protected against theft and copying. We hold patents worldwide for individual, innocent-looking components that could serve various other purposes." I configured the biocomputers, and I created the network with them, so only I know how to do it. Okay, various mechanics helped me, but I guarantee they didn't know what they were doing... ha, I chose the not-so-intelligent ones here, even though they can be useful sometimes. In our archives under this building, you have a detailed description of this process, so you can repeat it at any time, especially since it's incredibly easy.

"Oh my, Kuba, I'm not a computer scientist, I'm a gardener and landscaper. Don't you think the difference between those professions is quite large?" "

I already told you, it's incredibly simple. I tested your intelligence; you'll be able to handle this task without any problems if the need arises, and both of your sons could do it right now, even though they're still children. I tested them too. They passed my tests with flying colors.

" "Damn, Kuba, you're annoying. Is there anything else you haven't checked about me?

" "Yes." I don't know to what extent, after so many years apart, you're still emotionally connected to your wife.

"You crack me up. You know I love her. You heard our phone conversations and probably noticed that I was driving home every free moment.

" "Yes, but I know some ladies visited you, and it wasn't to look at your postcard collection.

" "Kuba, come on, that's not the emotional level. I don't know how to explain it to you."

"Okay, okay, don't explain anything to me. As for your third doubt, I must inform you that while we may be deep in the oil industry, we're not interested in oils, gasoline, and all that fuel and energy junk. It's a broken branch that will soon collapse. We're interested in other applications of oil and gas, those with a future and a long-term perspective. So even if teleportation based on our patents becomes widespread, not so soon, we still won't lose much; others will have to worry about it.

" "I don't really know how to react to your news today. Too much sensationalism and emotion for one morning. Kuba, you've completely devastated me with this news. I think I need to think this through.

" "Of course, I'll stay in this office; I still have a few things to take care of, and you can go to the living room. The secretary doesn't start work until Monday, but you can operate the coffee machine, the television, and the computer yourself."

"I think I'll give up all those appliances today, maybe I'll only need the coffee machine."

"Take this opportunity to look around the whole house, because it would be stupid not to know where everything is when your family shows up here tomorrow morning, because I forgot to tell you I booked a flight for your wife and sons. They're arriving tomorrow at nine.

" "Then I have to go to the airport to pick them

up." "You don't have to do anything. I've booked a taxi to bring them here, but if you'd rather try out that new machine in the garage, I don't see any problem with you going to the airport tomorrow morning.