Beyond the right center field fence, gutted of bleacher seats, a massive crusher truck was parked, two A20s in work clothes, sipping beer, waiting to tear the stadium down.
“I hope you all have a great time this year.”
The HG fired another pitch.
“Will you make him stop?” Puppy shouted at the A29, who scowled. Robots were so damn sensitive about being called out for doing anything wrong.
“We’ve still got lots of tickets for the rest of the season so…” another pitch cut across the plate… “enjoy today’s contest between the Bronx Hawks and the Bronx Falcons. Let’s give a big cheer for these great players.”
An enthusiastic crowd of one, Puppy clapped and shouted before returning to his seat, propping his blue sneakers on the railing and opening his black and white notebook. The only real equipment were the bats, though there were a couple buckets of mottled balls and gloves in the Hawks dugout runway.
The HG pitcher threw an HG ball to the human batter, whose hitting skills, such as they were, was programmed into the system. The play was generated by what the humans “hit,” but other than that, everything else danced merrily out of the A29’s machine.
Campanis smacked a ground ball toward second, not even waiting for his HG runner to scamper down the line before shuffling like a fat wind-up doll into the dugout. At least button the uniform top, Puppy pleaded silently. Try to look like a damn major league player.
“Game One of the 2098 baseball season, baseball’s final year.” He wrote in his neat handwriting. There was always hope, even when it was hopeless.
• • • •
ZELDA JONES SHOOK the dice very carefully onto the floor of Puppy’s living room, letting out a squeal of joy as she sent her silver car racing around the Monopoly board.
“Your squeaking is really annoying,” Puppy grumbled.
“That’s why I do it. Keeps you off balance.” She grinned triumphantly, clapping her chubby black hands together and scrunching up her slight nose, set like a stranger on her wide face.
“You a dead Allah, dude.” Zelda turned to Pablo Diaz, frowning miserably at the little car sitting on the green Pennsylvania Avenue space as if that meant an asteroid would come crashing through the window, ending all life including their weekly Wednesday games night.
“Then buy it.” Pablo’s frown deepened. “In the long run, it means little.”
“Except kicking your butt.” Zelda tucked her right leg under her ample rear.
“Perhaps.” Diaz watched uneasily as Zelda placed hotels on her latest claim. “Can I go now or do you need a few more minutes to squeak like you’ve conquered the Caliphate.”
Zelda danced with thick gangly arms snaking out in all directions around Pablo. He ignored her with growing difficulty, turning his attention to Puppy.
“How many were out there today?”
“Eight, though two of them spent most of the game making out.”
“Is that allowed?”
“Does it matter?”
Pablo rolled the dice and reluctantly held his silver airplane over Pennsylvania Avenue.
“Put it down, big boy,” Zelda whispered.
“Tell her to stop,” Pablo pleaded.
“Right there. On my lush luxurious property. There you go.” Zelda licked Pablo’s left ear. He twisted away angrily. Zelda licked his other ear, whispering huskily, “Pay up.”
Pablo’s long, skilled fingers carefully counted out the money like it was real. To Pablo, everything was real. Games, fun, laughter, all predicates for somber hard work, life lessons, endless practice. He had always been the most driven of them.
Zelda carefully recounted the money.
“That’s insulting.” Pablo puckered up his long, narrow face.
She acknowledged that with a sweet smile while Puppy dumped another bag of Famous Nebraska chips into a large bowl.
“My assistant’s chair is empty, Puppy,” Pablo said in that way he had of forgetting to include people in the dialogue bouncing around his head.
“Come on.”
“Is there some shame here?” Pablo was mildly indignant. “Pietra did pretty well as my dental hygienist.”
“You really think Puppy is right for this, Dr. Diaz?” Zelda held out the neck of the Hartford Heaven beer bottle as a microphone, which Pablo not so politely moved aside.
“Pietra was in the fashion world. All she knew about teeth were her regular cleanings and how they sparkled when she modeled. Now look at her. A year with me and onto dental school.”
“Dr. Nedick has a nice ring, Pup.” Zelda spooned a chunk of Gussie’s Guac onto a chip. “Now that you’re entering the mature phase of your life.”
“I’m serious,” Pablo continued earnestly through their laughter. “You need to find something. This is stable. There’s always tooth decay. Accidents. Like chipping a tooth.” He indicated the stale chips. “Think about it.”
“Puppy’s probably annoyed because Greta’s been nagging him about finding a new job.” Zelda clucked her tongue as Puppy landed on her Park Place hotel. He stared glumly.
“That was a wonderful birthday present, thank you again.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“I could’ve used socks. Definitely underwear.”
“I figured you needed some companionship.”
She and Pablo exchanged mischievous looks.
“I do fine,” Puppy snapped defensively.
“Oh, tell us.”
“Maybe there’s nothing to share.” Pablo smiled.
“I don’t share everything.”
“What’s her or his name then?” Zelda leaned forward dreamily.
“I’m taking a break.”
“The bitch ended six years ago.”
“Not long enough from the Gates of Hell. How much fake money do I owe you?” Puppy snapped at Zelda.
“One hundred bucks. Sometime tonight. I need to rest for a field trip tomorrow with the brats.”
Puppy very, very slowly counted out the multi-colored bills. “And what about your romances, dearest Zelda?”
Zelda glanced uneasily at Pablo, who unscrewed another beer bottle.
“Nothing,” she said quickly.
“You, the queen of the one-night stands?”
“Are you pissed because I gave you an annoying, expensive HG, I’m winning again in Monopoly or because you haven’t been laid in a long, long time.”
“All three,” he conceded sadly.
“We’re all pretty celibate,” Pablo said a little too emphatically, Puppy thought.
“Not exactly model citizens in Grandma’s House,” Zelda said. “Late 30s, no marriage, no children.” She let out a loud sigh. “If only we were dentists.”
“Just wait until you get a toothache,” Pablo grumbled.
Zelda clenched her groin in mock anger. Suddenly serious, the mercurial
