"I like to keep a few bits and pieces around. Most of it was slated for recycling, so I got it cheap."
"But what do you do with it all?"
"I catalogue everything, sort it by function and serial number, and list it online. You'd be surprised what people will buy at auction."
Alice wasn't surprised at all, since she'd picked up an entire ship for three credits.
They carried Scrap to a big metal workbench and laid him out, and then Jeremy took up a tool and began removing farings around the robot's damaged leg, sorting fasteners into a series of small pots. He worked quickly and efficiently, and Alice could see Flint relaxing as the work proceeded.
"Okay, the leg's totally wrecked," said Jeremy at last. "No chance of repair. Everything's crushed."
"That's it?" said Flint. "You're giving up?"
"Of course not! We just need another one." Jeremy took out a thinscreen, typed a part number, then scrolled through a list. "I've got one from an older model. Same shape, but it's silver instead of bronze."
"I don't care about the colour," said Flint. "Just tell me it'll work."
"Yeah, it's a direct replacement." Flint showed Alice the screen. "Go to this bay and look for a big blue barrel on the floor. There'll be half a dozen legs in there - you want the silver one, and it should have this number on the tag."
Alice set off across the warehouse, moving between racks until she came across the row she needed. There were seven or eight legs in the barrel, standing up like umbrellas in a stand, and she sorted through them until she found the silver one with the correct tag. She tried to pull it out, but all the feet were all tangled in the bottom of the barrel, and in the end she had to remove half of them before she could get the silver one free. Then she put the others back and carried her prize back to Jeremy and Flint.
When she got there, the robot's chest was exposed, the crushed chest plate lying on the bench alongside, the serial number XG-87 all but scraped away by the impact with the van. Jeremy had donned a pair of powerful magnifying lenses, and was touching various parts of the robot's circuits with an electronic probe. The probe beeped and buzzed, but Jeremy's expression gave nothing away, and it was impossible to guess whether the sounds were positive or negative.
"You're lucky," said Jeremy at last, flipping up the lenses. "The damage is just cosmetic."
"But those hoses …" began Flint.
"That's nothing. I'll soon have those replaced."
"What about the leaks? It was getting into everything."
"Relax, it was only coolant, and he must have shut down before he overheated. Nothing's damaged, trust me."
"Good lad!" Flint clapped him on the shoulder, the blow knocking Jeremy's lenses down over his face.
He pushed them up again, then cleared his throat. "There is one thing." He saw Flint's expression. "Oh, it's nothing to do with the damage. I just found a few anomalies when I was checking him over."
"What sort of anomalies? Is it serious?"
"There's degradation in his memory. His long term storage seems to be a little flaky."
"Join the club," muttered Flint.
Jeremy continued. "It's fine for now, but the unit will need replacing down the line. When you do … he's going to forget everything."
Flint looked down at the robot. "You know, that might be a blessing in disguise. He's very attached to me, and I won't last forever. I've been worried about him, but if I leave instructions to have his memory upgraded after I'm gone …"
"But he won't remember you!" protested Alice. "You can't do that to him! It's not fair!"
"It'll be a kindness," said Flint.
"He's right," said Jeremy. "Robots don't handle our deaths very well, you know. Grief can end up destroying them."
Alice was about to argue, but she realised they might just be right.
Jeremy glanced at his thinscreen. "We'll need a new chest plate," he told Alice. "Try aisle four, third rack down. There's a tub with half a dozen in. They're all the same, so grab the best one."
Alice nodded and set off again. She found the tub, and gingerly sorted through the chest plates inside. They were stacked on edge, thick with grime and dirt. She couldn't even tell what colour they were until she rubbed each corner clean, but once she had a couple of bronze ones she took them out and checked them over. One had a nasty crease across the shoulder, while the second seemed to be straight and true. So, she put the first back in the tub and returned with the second chest plate. She placed it on the bench then inspected her hands, grimacing at the dirt.
"Yeah, sorry about that," said Jeremy. "Some of this stuff has been stored for years. I clean it up before shipping it out, but otherwise it just sits there." He passed her a rag, then continued working on Scrap's leg. "Do you want to clean off that chest plate while I'm doing this?" he asked Flint.
"Of course. Anything to help."
Alice passed him the rag, and Jeremy indicated a bottle of thinners. Flint moistened the rag, then worked it over the chest plate in circles, cutting through the grime to reveal a scratched, bronze surface. When he got to the upper right corner, a serial number appeared, the black lettering faded but still legible: XG-99. Flint paused at the sight, then glanced across at Scrap's old chest plate with its faded 'XG-87'.
"You can always paint his old number on the new chest piece," said Alice.
Flint shook his head. "I don't care about the serial number. I just want him up and about again."
There was a solid click as Jeremy detached Scrap's damaged leg, and Alice watched him
