THE SEARCH FOR THE MISSING NEWSDROIDS:
PART 2
by Hazed
It had been a week since I hired the famous private eye Spam Shovel to find out why my newsdroids haven’t come back from their vacation, but I hadn’t heard anything from him. Not so much as a comm message to confirm he was on the case. I was beginning to wonder if he lived up to his reputation as a hotshot PI. Maybe he’d taken the money and ran.
Meanwhile, I needed to do something about the Fed2 Star. Last week I got away with publishing the PI’s story of how I gave him the job of finding the missing droids instead of providing any proper news, but this week I had to get a full issue out somehow. On my own. With no minions to help me.
I know I used to do the whole thing single handed, back in the early days, but that was a long time ago. I am out of practice. Besides, I have very long, perfectly manicured, black-painted fingernails to worry about. I keep them this long as a sign that I don’t have to do any manual work. It’s the same reason I wear impossibly high heels; to show that I don’t have to walk anywhere, but can afford to just teleport from place to place at whim. I am the demi-goddess, after all!
But needs must. I wasn’t completely bereft of help: my good friend Diesel had leant me a couple of her waitdroids, and while they were of no use whatsoever in the news department, they could keep me in refreshments, and one of them gave a very good neck rub. Since the stress was getting to me that was very welcome, believe me!
I settled down with a large glass of my favorite pink frothy drink and started to put together this issue of the Star.
I was deep in contemplation when my comm unit crackled into life, making me jump. Convinced it was just going to be an annoying salesdroid trying to flog me ship insurance or sell me on the merits of an odious political candidate that was begging for my endorsement, I was about to fling the unit across the room when Shovel’s voice came through.
“At last,” I growled to him. “I was beginning to think you’d let me down.”
“Don’t get your corset in a crunch, your demi-goddessness,” he replied. “I’ve never let a client down before and I don’t intend to start with you.”
“Did you find my newsdroids?”
“I did, but...”
“Well that’s good news. Can you get them back here in time to work on this week’s issue?”
“Not exactly...”
“That really would be magnificent. I was not looking forward to having to push buttons and pull levers. Manual work is not my strong point at all.”
Shovel muttered something that I didn’t quite catch. Did he use the word “lazy?” Surely not!
“So when do I expect you and the droids?” I asked.
“Well, I’ve been trying to explain, your most high and mightiness, but you haven’t let me get a word in edgeways.” He paused, obviously expecting me to interject again, but this time I waited for him to say what he had to say.
I heard him take a deep breath. “It’s complicated.” I rolled my eyes. Is nothing ever straightforward these days? “There are problems. You’re not going to get them back to help with this issue. Sorry, you’re on your own, doll. I’ll be back next week and I’ll give you all the details then.”
With that he broke off the communication, leaving me mystified, and not inconsiderably miffed.
So now I have to produce the Fed2 Star on my own, with just two untrained catering robots to assist me. But I’ve come up with a plan. I will direct them, and they will do the work. If I point to the buttons and levers and get them to do the pressing and pulling, I can preserve my nails!
