“Girls in the-”
Ways and Means peered into the cell.
“It’s her!” Ways said. “I’d remember that head anywhere. Once you see a head bobbing around on top of a vat of chocolate, it’s hard to forget it.”
“How did she get in there?” Means asked the guard.
“I have a sore neck, sir,” the guard replied, “so she must have fought her way in.”
Means looked hard at Hymie. “I don’t see it, but you must have something,” he said. “Number One is ga-ga over you, and now you’ve got dames fighting their way in to get to you in jail.”
“Can we assume from that statement,” Max said “that Number One is still reciting love poetry?”
“As fast as she can turn it out,” Ways said. “We feed her hate, and she gives us love. It’s a terrible thing. But we have the solution. We’re going to give her what she wants-the robot.”
“That’s very good thinking,” Max said. “I approve of that.”
“You think when that robot gets in there he’ll brainwash her in the other direction, don’t you?” Ways said.
“Well. . it just may be possible that since she’s ga-ga over him he might have some influence over her,” Max admitted
“Dumb,” Means said.
“Before we turn him over to her, we plan to brainwash him,” Ways explained to Max. “We’ll make him think he’s a KAOS agent. That way, he’ll work with us, not against us.”
“That’s very good thinking,” Max said. “I’m afraid you’ve lost my approval, however.”
“Open the cell door,” Means commanded the guard.
When the door had been opened, Hymie was taken out. Then Ways and Means returned to the laboratory, taking Hymie with them. The guard relocked the door.
“Max, do you really think they can brainwash Hymie?” 99 asked.
“Why not, 99? He’s a machine. If you tell a machine it’s a KAOS agent, it believes it.”
“But it isn’t working on Number One, Max. They haven’t been able to persuade her to give up her love and turn to hate.”
“She must need an overhaul,” Max replied. “If she were functioning correctly, she’d believe anything she was told. I’m positive about that. That’s what makes machines inferior to humans-they believe anything they’re told. I know that because that’s what I’ve been told.”
“Max, what are we going to do?”
“Escape, 99. It’s our duty to break out of here, rescue Hymie and Number One, and destroy this KAOS installation.”
“Good, Max! How?”
“Did you bring any escape devices with you?”
99 shook her head.
“Then we’ll have to rely on our brains,” Max said. 99 went to the cot and slumped down, looking defeated.
“Don’t give up so quickly, 99,” Max said. “Haven’t I thought us out of tighter spots than this?”
“Well, frankly, Max-”
“Nevermind that,” Max broke in. “There’s always a first time for everything, you know. This time, it might work. Now, listen-here’s my first idea. Get up off the cot and let me lie down, and I’ll pretend to be ill. I’ll moan and groan and attract the guard’s attention. When he comes in here to find out what’s the matter with me, you’ll drop him with a karate chop. Okay?”
“Didn’t I see that in a movie, Max?”
“Yes, 99. In an old movie-on television.”
“As I recall-”
“That’s irrelevant, 99. This time, it
99 got up, and Max stretched out on the cot and began moaning and groaning. After a few moments, the guard appeared at the ceil door.
“You sound like you got the miseries,” the guard said sympathetically.
“And I’m terribly ill, too,” Max replied.
“Shouldn’t you do something?” 99 said to the guard.
“I’m no doctor, ma’am.”
“But shouldn’t you come in and get him and maybe take him to the guest house? There must be a doctor among the guests.”
“He don’t want no doctor,” the guard said. “Don’t you know about doctors, ma’am? They’re a bunch of scalywags, every last one of them. My mom used to say, anybody who goes to a doctor, there’s something wrong with them. The home remedies, they’re the best.” He addressed Max again. “Where does it hurt?” he asked. “Somewhere around the rib section?”
“That’s it!” Max groaned.
“Then you’ve probably got what mom used to call riboflavin,” the guard said. “What’s good for that is fish-eye stew. You get yourself a pot and put in some turnip tops, and the bark of a weeping willow, and a ten-months-old badminton net, then fill it to the brim with rusty rainwater, and let it simmer ’til the badminton net dissolves. You serve it-”
“What about the fish eye?” 99 asked.
“You bury that out in back of the woodshed,” the guard replied.
Max groaned again.
“That don’t sound like riboflavin to me,” the guard said.
“The pain has moved,” Max said.
“Since you know so much about healing,” 99 said to the guard, “maybe you could help him. Why don’t you at least come inside and look at him.”
“Oh, I can see what he’s got all the way from over here,” the guard said. “You’ll notice that he’s lying down and his eyes are closed. That’s a sure sign of the blind staggers. If he got up, he’d fall flat on his face. What’s good for the blind staggers is chicken soup.”
“That sounds good,” Max said. “Why don’t you get some and bring it in?”
“It’d have to be Mom’s recipe,” the guard replied. “And I don’t have any shoe tongue handy.”
Max peered at him. “Shoe tongue? For chicken soup?”
“The way the recipe goes,” the guard said, “you take a tongue out of an old shoe, you put it in a big pot, then you add an old horse blanket-diced, of course-the scrapings off a squirrel carcass, the last leaf of summer, the glue from an old book binding, the want ad section out of the July 4th edition of the Clinton, Illinois,
“Chicken,” Max interrupted.
“Pardon?”
“You forgot the chicken,” Max pointed out.
“Shucks you don’t put chicken in it. That’d spoil it.”
“You don’t put chicken in chicken soup?”
“It’s not for putting chicken in, it’s for feeding to the chickens,” the guard explained. “They’re the ones that get the blind staggers. You’re the first human I ever saw to get it.”
Max sat up. “Nevermind,” he said to the guard.
“Max. . what about you-know-what,” 99 said.
“99, if I he here listening to any more of these recipes, I’ll get sick,” Max explained.
“Glad to do whatever I could do,” the guard said, returning to his post.
“That didn’t work too well, did it, Max?” 99 said.
“It wasn’t perfect,” Max admitted. “But that doesn’t mean that we’re defeated, 99. We’ll just have to try something else. How about the old setting-the-cot-on-fire trick? That always works-more or less-in old movies. Do you have a match, 99?”
“No, Max.”
