children were engaged in a fierce video game battle. “Be sure that you finish taking the rest of that junk out to the trash before dark,” he said. They did not respond, which was not wholly unexpected since they were busy attempting to either destroy or rescue the planet, depending on which team they were on.
He went out the front door, shooing away the two cats that insisted on attempting to go in the house, and crossed the yard to where the still-smoldering remains lay. There was a stamped metal tag affixed to the side of the thin metal shell of the crushed chest cavity; he bent to peer at it in the dimming light and saw that it read:
North Central Positronics Ltd
Granite City, Northeast Corridor
Design 1 Mini-Guardian
Serial number: ZZ 35712 CZ 785367235 Q 12
North Central Positronics… why did that seem familiar? He knew where Granite City was — it lay on the opposite side of the Mississippi from St. Louis, Missouri; he’d been there a number of times — but why did the tag say “Northeast Corridor” instead of “Illinois”? It all still seemed to ring a bell despite the discrepancies. He worked it back and forth until it broke off and slipped the tag into his pocket.
Steven decided to follow the trail of destruction that the thing had left in the soil and see where it led. He picked up a sturdy applewood branch of the sort that had served him so well during his battle with the BirdBrain, this time selecting a long, staff-length branch about the diameter of his wrist. He snapped a few smaller branches off of it until it was suitable to use as a walking stick and set out to the northeast.
Crossing the front yard, he found where the thing had left off chewing up the ground to lunge for him and began walking along the trench it had dug. The groove was four feet wide and at least two feet deep, which was no mean feat considering how hard the packed Montana soil was. In spots the bedrock was exposed, and that was scarred with deep gouges from the BirdBrain’s huge parrotlike beak. He continued walking, wondering just where the thing had begun its rampage and exactly what had sparked it.
The sun was beginning to disappear behind the hills to the west, and long purple shadows were crawling across the landscape when he saw something odd up ahead. He had come at least a half mile, perhaps more, but now, at the crest of a rise perhaps 300 yards ahead, there was a shimmering green light like the iris of a massive eye. He peered at it in the distance, trying to focus on it, but it seemed to blink in and out of view like a candle flame flickering in the breeze.
He hurried toward it, halfway expecting something to leap out of it and devour him the way the BirdBrain — that is, the Mini-Guardian — had attempted to do. When he got within 50 yards or so of the thing, he saw that there was a small, scrawny shrub in front of what he had now come to think of as a portal and the stiff evening wind was blowing its sparse branches back and forth, which accounted for much of the flickering effect.
When he was within ten feet of the portal, he circled around to see it from behind and realized that he could see into it; it was a vortex measuring six or seven feet in diameter, standing like a doorway in midair, and it looked as though all manner of objects were swirling inside it, like debris inside a tornado. He saw vehicles both recent and vintage, various pieces of furniture, farm animals — he was reminded simultaneously of the cow that mooed its way past Dorothy’s house in The Wizard Of Oz and the “We got cows!” scene in Twister — and, now and then, human beings as well.
Steven stared in horror as quite a number of people, some in modern attire and others in clothing from every era of history, tumbled past his view like rag dolls. How had they become trapped in there? He felt no suction or other force drawing him into the vortex.
He edged closer to the swirling, emerald-colored eddy and saw that it
He went out the front door, shooing away the two cats that insisted on attempting to go in the house, and crossed the yard to where the still-smoldering remains lay. There was a stamped metal tag affixed to the side of the thin metal shell of the crushed chest cavity; he bent to peer at it in the dimming light and saw that it read:
North Central Positronics Ltd
Granite City, Northeast Corridor
Design 1 Mini-Guardian
Serial number: ZZ 35712 CZ 785367235 Q 12
North Central Positronics… why did that seem familiar? He knew where Granite City was — it lay on the opposite side of the Mississippi from St. Louis, Missouri; he’d been there a number of times — but why did the tag say “Northeast Corridor” instead of “Illinois”? It all still seemed to ring a bell despite the discrepancies. He worked it back and forth until it broke off and slipped the tag into his pocket.
Steven decided to follow the trail of destruction that the thing had left in the soil and see where it led. He picked up a sturdy applewood branch of the sort that had served him so well during his battle with the BirdBrain, this time selecting a long, staff-length branch about the diameter of his wrist. He snapped a few smaller branches off of it until it was suitable to use as a walking stick and set out to the northeast.
Crossing the front yard, he found where the thing had left off chewing up the ground to lunge for him and began walking along the trench it had dug. The groove was four feet wide and at least two feet deep, which was no mean feat considering how hard the packed Montana soil was. In spots the bedrock was exposed, and that was scarred with deep gouges from the BirdBrain’s huge parrotlike beak. He continued walking, wondering just where the thing had begun its rampage and exactly what had sparked it.
The sun was beginning to disappear behind the hills to the west, and long purple shadows were crawling across the landscape when he saw something odd up ahead. He had come at least a half mile, perhaps more, but now, at the crest of a rise perhaps 300 yards ahead, there was a shimmering green light like the iris of a massive eye. He peered at it in the distance, trying to focus on it, but it seemed to blink in and out of view like a candle flame flickering in the breeze.
He hurried toward it, halfway expecting something to leap out of it and devour him the way the BirdBrain — that is, the Mini-Guardian — had attempted to do. When he got within 50 yards or so of the thing, he saw that there was a small, scrawny shrub in front of what he had now come to think of as a portal and the stiff evening wind was blowing its sparse branches back and forth, which accounted for much of the flickering effect.
When he was within ten feet of the portal, he circled around to see it from behind and realized that he could see into it; it was a vortex measuring six or seven feet in diameter, standing like a doorway in midair, and it looked as though all manner of objects were swirling inside it, like debris inside a tornado. He saw vehicles both recent and vintage, various pieces of furniture, farm animals — he was reminded simultaneously of the cow that mooed its way past Dorothy’s house in The Wizard Of Oz and the “We got cows!” scene in Twister — and, now and then, human beings as well.
Steven stared in horror as quite a number of people, some in modern attire and others in clothing from every era of history, tumbled past his view like rag dolls. How had they become trapped in there? He felt no suction or other force drawing him into the vortex.
He edged closer to the swirling, emerald-colored eddy and saw that it
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