3.1 HISTORY CLASS
"Don't worry, Fuzzy," said Max as they walked down the hall. "Mr. Xu's class is gonna go much better."
"Yeah," said Simeon, who had joined a group following Max and Fuzzy down the hall. "Xu's really cool. He's going to think having a robot for a student is totally awesome!"
Max groaned. Simeon was another one of the old-fashioned slang users like Krysti. Plus, she was annoyed that Simeon was even there at all.
Max knew she should be glad that some of the other kids liked Fuzzy, too—after all, that was the whole point of a Robot Integration Program. But she couldn't help being a little irritated that they were all hanging around now. She'd hardly had a chance to talk to Fuzzy herself. And she had so many questions.
But this wasn't a great time to talk anyway, since Mr. Xu's class was in Hallway D and there was barely enough time to get there before the chime rang and Barbara started giving out discipline tags.
Mr. Xu was, in fact, very excited to meet Fuzzy.
"I'm sure everyone is as curious as I am. Would you mind answering some questions, Fuzzy?" he asked once the class was settled.
"No, I would not mind," said Fuzzy.
Lots of kids put their hands up, but Mr. Xu said he wanted to ask the first question. "How old are you?" he asked.
"My current software, Fuzzy.9, was turned on twenty-two days ago. However, I am aware of my previous actions and training since my central processors were brought online four hundred and eighty-three days ago."
"Let's see," said Mr. Xu. "Divide 483 by 365 and … So, you're about a year and a half old!"
"Correct," said Fuzzy.
"Fascinating," said Mr. Xu. "OK, who's got the next question?" Hands went up. "Simeon, go ahead."
"Do you use batteries or what?" asked Simeon.
"Yes. In fact, forty-five percent of my weight is batteries, stored here in my abdomen, pelvis, and thighs." Fuzzy pointed to his rear end and did not seem to mind everyone laughing at him.
"How long do they last?" asked Krysti.
So much for her not caring about robots, thought Max with a smile.
"An average of 55.3 hours," he said. "If I were, say, in a desert or on some other planet, I would have solar panels sent along with me to extend the time between recharges at a base station."
Biggs was in this class, too, and Max was completely unsurprised to hear him ask the dumbest question of all time: "Do you use the bathroom?"
Apparently Mr. Xu thought this was a dumb question, too, because he was just about to fuss at Biggs about it. But then they were all surprised when Fuzzy answered. "Yes. I have a coolant system to control the temperature of my processors. This creates condensation, or tiny water droplets, which collect in a short tube and must be emptied from time to time. A bathroom would be a convenient place for me to do so."
The few titters of laughter stopped when Mr. Xu tapped lightly on his desk.
"Can you send a text message?" asked Jenny, a girl who was usually too full of herself to take an interest in anything else.
"Yes," said Fuzzy.
"Will you send me one?" Jenny asked.
Fuzzy just sat there, and Max knew that somebody was going to start making fun of him in about half a second, when Jenny held up her qFlex bracelet. A text message was scrolling around the surface.
"Wow! How did you know my number?"
"I saw your name on your notebook."
Everyone looked and saw that it said Jenny Turling in tiny letters at the top of her notebook.
Fuzzy's eyes must be able to zoom in on stuff just like a camera, Max realized. Then she thought, Duh, they are cameras!
"And then," continued Fuzzy, "I accessed the databases of the major cell phone companies and found fifty-seven Jenny Turlings. But there is only one in this area."
"But aren't those databases private?" asked Max.
"Well, there is a primitive sort of password protection," replied Fuzzy, "but I decrypted it with—"
Suddenly, one of the big wall screens lit up with Vice Principal Barbara's virtual face.
"Unauthorized use of text-messaging device. One discipline tag to F. Robot. One discipline tag to J. Turling."
Jenny let out an indignant squawk and turned to Mr. Xu.
Mr. Xu gave her a little nod.
"Vice Principal Barbara, I think we can override those tags. The text message was part of a classroom demonstration," he said.
"There are no records that you made a request to violate school guidelines for such a demonstration," Barbara's grating voice replied.
"Well, it just came up. Now, Vice Principal Barbara, if—"
"I will make a note that allowing students to send text messages is one of your teaching methods. I am unaware of how it can be helpful in studying the history of colonial America, the subject of your upcoming UpGrade test. This information will be reflected in your Constant UpGrade teacher score." Her screen flicked off.
Mr. Xu looked like he was burning with a desire to throw something heavy at Vice Principal Barbara's screen. But he no doubt knew from past experience that Barbara was still watching and, in fact, recording whatever he did next, ready to further reduce his #CUG score if he showed any reaction at all.
So, he took a deep breath. "Fuzzy, I'd like to thank you for answering our questions. I'm sure it will be a valuable experience for all of us to have you in our class. However, now I think it would be best for us to return to today's Constant UpGrade study schedule: Agricultural Methods of the 1700s."
