Fuzzy Read Free

would extend a durafoam band that would actually encircle her and hold her in place.
    A large section of wall lit up, showing Vice Principal Barbara looking firm but not yet angry.
    â€œDiscipline tag assigned to Student M. Zelaster. You are not authorized for this hallway at this time.”
    â€œBut, Vice Principal Barbara, I’ve been called to the office!” Max protested.
    â€œNo record found,” said Barbara, and the screen image became slightly grumpier. “You are not authorized for this hallway at this time.”
    A keypad appeared on the touch screen.
    â€œPress one to review hallway procedures. Press two to—”
    Max was actually considering trying to duck under the arm and make a run for it when Mr. Dorgas came around the corner.
    â€œThere you are, Zelaster! Follow me.”
    â€œI can’t,” she protested. “Vice Principal Barbara won’t let me.”
    â€œOops,” said Dorgas, like it was no big deal. “I forgot to key you in. Barbara: Override, code seven.”
    The arm disappeared into the wall with a
whoosh
, and Max wished she could, too. Dorkus seemed to be in his usual bad mood. He stalked off down the hall, and she followed him.
    â€œYou know,” he said, “if you didn’t have so many discipline tags, Barbara wouldn’t be on the lookout for you.”
    Max wanted to point out that if Barbara didn’t have so many annoying rules, she wouldn’t have so many dTags. But saying so might mean another tag, and it really wasn’t worth it.

2.1.5
    Meanwhile, Barbara was adding a discipline tag to Max’s record anyway. She also added one to her internal record of Mr. Dorgas. Barbara kept careful track of every human who disputed her rules in any way.

2.2
ROBOT INTEGRATION PROGRAM HQ
    Mr. Dorgas led Max to a door marked FORUM , a mini-auditorium meant for school choral concerts and plays. But Vanguard had done away with music and drama classes, so the room was never used.
    Now there was a little sign taped to the wall. ROBOT INTEGRATION PROGRAM HEADQUARTERS. ROSSUM TECHNOLOGIES. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY .
    When Mr. Dorgas hit the button, the door swooshed open and Max saw what looked to her like paradise.
    Computers and vid screens and wires and spare parts filled the space, and in the middle of it all, she saw the robot.
    Her first thought was
Oh cool
, but then she realizedit was just propped up against a table, not moving. So her second thought was
Oh zark, it’s still broken. Maybe Biggs was right and I really did break it somehow
.
    â€œHere is the student you requested, Dr. Jones,” said Mr. Dorgas, and he pushed Max forward. Then he turned around and stomped out the door.
    Everybody in the room—seven technicians, four security guards, and two people wearing weird helmets—turned to look at her.
    One of the people in the weird helmets stepped forward.
    â€œUh . . . Maxine? Is that right?”
    â€œJust Max, really,” she said nervously.
    The man pulled the helmet off over his head and introduced himself.
    â€œI’m Dr. Jones, RosTech project manager.” He was a lanky middle-aged white man with a receding hairline. Max noticed that he wore glasses. He must have been one of those rare types who couldn’t tolerate ocular implants.
    â€œAnd this,” said Jones, waving at the other helmeted person, “is Lieutenant Colonel Nina.”
    A
colonel?
Max stepped back. Why would there be acolonel here? Was she going to be some sort of gung ho army soldier who would yell at her for messing with the robot?
    But when the “soldier” removed her helmet, Max saw that she was a friendly looking black woman, about thirty years old, with a nice, reassuring smile. She looked more like somebody’s cool aunt than a soldier.
    The woman gave Max another pleasant smile, and Max found herself smiling back.
    â€œHi, Max. Jones has to call me Lieutenant Colonel, but you can call