Robot on a Field Of Pine

Robot on a Field Of Pine, a Self–Portrait. 
2013
Mixed media; Pencil, coloured in photoshop. 

the CWA of Dr. Z Smith Episode #110: Backstory

-=fifteen years ago=-

-=fig. 678: the smith apartments=-

The woman watched as the city burned.
     “Your father and I,” She said, “Leave you alone for three hours! ONE Society dinner and this…!” She gestured at the city below “How…Did you even build a 50 foot robot with out me noticing?  We live in an apartment!”
     “I have skills.” Replied the boy. “I Didn't mean for him to escape, He just–”
     “Never mind that now, can you stop it?”
     “Not remotely.  No, ah, I mean, I can't stop him from here. If I were to get closer…?”
     “No.”
     “He's not dangerous, really–”
A giant ball of flame engulfed another house.
   The man stepped forward and adjusted his thick glasses “Is that the Miller’s house? I hope they weren't home.”
  Both the boy and the woman stared at the man. “Honey,” Said the woman, “Don't you hate the millers?”
   “Oh I do, Lisa, But they owe me $37.50. The Squirrels won.”
   Lisa Smith, {Née O'Callaghan} Millionairess to the vast O'Callaghan fortune, Took charge as she often had.  “Morton,” She said, “Tell the servants we'll have to make a hasty exit.”
“And I was just getting to like Quagmireland.”

-=later=-

A door appeared in the middle of the smith apartment. 

It was blue, art deco, and did not match the wallpaper at all. 

It didn't need to, It wasn't connected to the wall.

It opened. 

A man stepped out.

-=fig. 679: an unauthorised visit from the DEM Co.=-

He examined the room.
It was empty.
He examined it again, more carefully.
Still empty.
He swore.
A servant hurried through the room. He saw the blue door. Then he saw the man in black.
Ludwig Aufenstein smiled. “Good Afternoon sir.” He said. 
  “No it isn't.” The Servant said. “There's a bloody great robot outside, destroying things! I have to get home, I don't care how you got a door in here, I need to leave. Take anything you want.” 
  “Do you have a family sir?“
  “Yes. Which is why I need to–”
  “–Leave. Yes. Well, If you ever want to see them again, you will tell me where Zachary Smith went.”
  “Zachary…You mean Morton? He went with his family. They didn't say where, it was all “PACK THE THINGS NOW!” And “DAMMIT!” And panicking.”
  “Any idea about what?”
  “Not my job, sir. May I go? I know you don't have my family anywhere, this isn't about me, Is it?”
  “No, It isn't.” 
  “They left most of the fancy silverware, And I think I might have missed some, you're welcome to whatever you can find. Good day.” 
Another man walked out of the blue door. 
Short, stocky. Stout is the word.   
  “You're just going to let him get away, boss?”
  “No, Mr. Monoid, I'll keep looking. Always. He cannot escape.”
  “I meant the servant guy, He know who we're looking for, and he knows where they are. He'll squeal.”
  “But he said–”
  “I don't care what he said.”
  “In That case, Mr. Monoid, I think that man needs to be brought in for…Questioning.”

-=legopolis=-

It still wouldn't budge. 

Zachary Smith looked at the thing, it was the piece that he needed.  He knew he wasn't the strongest of kids, But come on, it didn't look all that heavy. 

Zachary Smith walked home down the alley. 

He would have to…steal a tractor, something.

Footsteps behind him, 

A glint of metal.

-=fig. 680 the fateful mugging=-

  

  “Yer money or your life.” Said the mugger.

Zachary Smith sighed, “I Keep telling you guys–” He reached over his left shoulder and, grasping the man's wrist firmly, tossed him to the ground. “Not to use the over-hand stab, it's too easy to counter. My you're heavy…Because you're huge. ”

  “Ow.” Said the attacker.  “That hurt. Your money…please?”

Zachary Smith gave a little laugh, “You're voice is all high and squeaky, like you're a girl or…a…kid.”

   “You're not going to hand over your money, are you?”

   “No,” 

   “Alright, just don't tell Big Eddy I was beaten by little runt like you, I'd lose all of my street cred.”

Zachary Smith looked the attacker over.  He was huge, and muscular. “You are just a kid, Aren't you?”  A plan was forming.

   “Yeah, What's it to ya, midget?”

-=fig. 681: james=-

    

  “The name's Zachary.”

  “James.”

The CWA of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #100: Rescue

A Window opened and a skeleton shot out.

It Cukooed nine times. 

This meant that Dr. Smith was late.

 He's never late. 

Jeeves Stopped washing the dishes.

-=fig. 630: he's late=-

Nearby was an electronic readout, it proclaimed that Dr. Smith's heat was beating.
 Jeeves Dialed the telephone.
  It rang twice, then an asleep voice said “…Yes?”
   “Capt. Brown, This is Jeeves.”
    Capt. Brown made friendly, non specific noises. He was, after all, mostly asleep at the moment.
      “Capt. Brown, Is Dr. Smith there with you?”
   “*Yawn*…Nope..”
    “Do you have any idea where he is?”
  Capt. Brown woke up at that. “Isn't he there with you?”
     “No Sir.”
      “Right. Get over here, Code Blue, I think.”

-=-

-=fig. 631: escapement=-

Dr. Smith watched the giant, swinging, spinning saw blade.
 “It's an escapement system then.” Dr. smith said.
   Von TipRău hadn't been listening. “What's that?” He said. 
   “An Escapement. Like in a watch. When it reaches the apex of its lateral swing, there's this click, and it drops about an inch.” 
   “Bravo Dr. Smith, Bravo. But I do not See how zis really helps you in any vay.”
   “It doesn't, really.”

-=-

-=fig. 632: cabbage=-

“Have you Seen this man?” Asked Capt. Brown, holding up a picture of Dr. Smith. 
 Every man at his disposal was doing the same thing, all over the city. 
“What if I have, is there any cabbage in it for me?” 
 “…Cabbage?” 
 “Moola lucre scratch.”
 “He means Is there a Reward.”  Clarified Jeeves. 
 “Ah.” Capt. Brown said. “Yes. Two dollars.” 
  The man who referred to money as Cabbage indicated a seedy, run-down hotel. “He was dragged in there about an hour-and-a-half ago. So where's my prize, jack?”
  “That's Capt. Brown to you.” And handed over the two dollars. 
  “Jeeves, put out a radio message; we found him, and the address. Got it?” 
  “Done your lordship.”

-=-

-=fig. 633: getting closer=-

Capt. Brown kicked the sedated body of the cloned Von TipRău. He made a gesture and the Rooftop policemen carried the clone away. 

Only a couple of Rooftop Policemen had been nearby when the call went out, but more were undoubtedly on their way.
Dr. Smith was no where to be seen, but there was one more room.
 A Rooftop Policeman opened the door, But didn't step inside.
  “It's a Shaft.” He said.
   Someone tossed him some rope.

-=fig. 634: lowered into the pit of monoids=-

“AAH! It's a pit of Monoids!”  They Pulled him back up quickly.
  “Stand Back.” Capt. Brown said.  He drew his guns and emptied them into the pit. “There.” He said, “That should clear them up.” They lowered the rope back down.

-=-

“Did you Hear that?” Asked Von TipRău, looking over his shoulder. 
 “Nope.” Lied Dr. Smith.
…tick…tock… Went the giant swinging blade.

-=-

 Capt. Brown picked up Dr. Smith's hat and briefcase.  “He's nearby. Look for doors.” 

 The room was examined. 

 “Sir!” Cried a policeman.  He had found a door set into the wall. 

   “Guns out.” Ordered Capt. Brown.

-=-

-=fig. 635: insurmountable odds=-

“I Knew that you vould come, Captain. You alvays come.” Von TipRău said from the back of the room. 
“Release my friend, Von TipRău.” Capt. Brown ordered. 
“I don't think so.  FIRE!”
 All of the Monoids fired at the same time, our heroes beat a retreat and slammed the door behind them. 
The bullets bounced off the other side of the thin metal. 
 “Alright Jeeves, it's up to you.”
  “Yes sir.”

 -=-

Jeeves opened the door. 

The bullets bounced off his metal skin, not even damaging it. 

 They tore through his uniform, however. 

  “Vhat is zis!” Screamed Von TipRău. 
  “Haven't you met my robot butler, Jeeves?”
 Jeeves walked across the room.  He snapped Dr. Smith's bonds with his bare…hands…and pulled Dr. Smith off the platform. 
 “Good Evening Sir.” Jeeves said. 
  “Jeeves.” Dr. Smith said. “Excuse me. So Von TipRău, You though that you could get away with…whatever it was you thought you could get away with? Hmm?” That had sounded better in Dr. Smith's head. “Jeeves, Capture Von TipRău.” 
   “Very Good Sir.”
 Jeeves ran around the pool, Von TipRău tried to run. 
 Jeeves was faster.

-=fig. 636: captured at last=-

“We finally caught you!” Dr. Smith said.  “James!” He yelled. “Come in here!”
 “Well Well Well.” Capt. Brown said. “Boys–” He gestured at his larger group of Rooftop Policemen, “–Put handcuff on this and make sure he can't escape. He's dangerous. And evil. Zachary!” 
  “Thank for coming to save me.” 
   “It was Jeeves that saved you, really.”
 They had a brief, very awkward hug. “Er. Here's your hat and stuff back.” Capt. Brown said, gruffly.
 Dr. Smith accepting his stuff, saying “I think that  we can all sleep safely in our beds, knowing Von TipRău is safely away–”
BAM!
They ran into the other room, there was smoke everywhere. 
 “WHAT HAPPENED!?” Yelled Capt. Brown.
   Irvin, Rooftop Policeman, Third Class stepped forward. “We shackled him like you said sir then BAM and all this smoke and He's gone! He's gone sir!”
 Capt. Brown sighed. “Well, I'm sure it's no fault of yours. Anyway the mission is complete! Dr. Smith here is safe, and that's what matters. Now, We're going to escort him home, aren't we lads?”
  There was some laughter.
“After you, Zachary.” Capt. Brown said.

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #95: Extortion, Robot Style

“Well, That took longer thaan I expected.”
   “But you still have The Touch, Sir.”
      “I do at that.”

-=fig. 610: final programming=-

Dr. Smith and his Robotic Butler, Jeeves, had just finished building a MK7 in the hopes of exchanging it for the life of Capt. James Brown, Mayor of the Grand City Of Legopolis and Dr. Smith's only friend.
   “Why did we ever abandon this design?” Dr. Smith said, almost wistfully. “It was so adorable.”
       “Wheels¹, Sir.” Jeeves Replied.
 “Ah. Yes.  Right, that's the last of it, you stay here Jeeves, I don't want them finding you.  I'll roll this guy out myself.”
      “Very Good Sir.”

 -=-

 “Now Presenting!”  Dr. Smith tried to use his best ‘Circus Announcer’ voice, but he failed. “The most wonderful thing you've ever seen!  Never before shown publicly, until now!  The–drum-roll please–MARK 13!”

-=fig. 611: gold master=-

It wasn't. It was a MK7. But Dr. Smith was hoping that these evil robots–themselves only MK4's–wouldn't know the difference.
“It's beautiful” Said the Leader of the MK4's “So much better than that human-esque”–It said human-esque like it was in insult–“MK12.  Such articulation, such height. But it only has one eye.”
   “That shoots laser beams.²” Dr. Smith assured it, “And besides, People are less frightened of things with one, big, eye.³”  Dr. Smith hoped The Leader didn't have anymore questions.⁴
 “How do I get into this new form?” It asked.
   “You plug this cord into your AUX OUT port, and this end into the MK13's AUX IN port. That's it.”  Wordlessly a spare MK4 clunked over, and connected the two robots.
     “There had better not be any tricks.” The Leader said.
        “You have me over a barrel, what would I dare do?”
 There was a short transfer period, where both bodies went limp.
    The the MK7 straightened up.  “I Feel so powerful!” Said The Leader, from Its new body. It disconnected the cord from Its AUX IN port and tested out Its new wheels.
   “You can go up to 50MPH with those wheels, nearly silently too, which I imagine will come in handy in your imminent reign of terror.”

“Thank You, Doctor, and it seems it is now my turn to keep my end of the bargain.” The Leader said. “Henchmen, Our leverage is no longer needed. Kill him.”
 

-=fig. 612: streamlining=-

“We HAD a DEAL!” Dr. Smith yelled,
  “A deal which I broke.” Replied The Leader.
 But Capt. Brown was on top of the situation.  He had had upwards of eight hours to work on his bonds,  he was just biding his time until the right moment.
And This was the right moment.
00:01
   He snapped the ropes, opened the top drawer of Dr. Smith's desk and drew the six-shooter that was kept there.
00:03
He shot every gun-carrying MK4 in the one weak spot he could see. The ankles. There was a tiny gap in the ankle, and behind that gap was the vacuum tube that regulated the entire leg.  These robots weighed nearly a ton, so with only one functioning leg they collapsed.
00:08.
  “Eight Seconds, James?” Dr. Smith called over jokingly, “You're slipping.”
    “Could'a done it in six if this damn gun would shoot straight. Remind me to get you a better one.”

    “What's Happening!” Demanded The Leader. Without waiting for an answer, it fired the shotgun mounted to it's back.
     Nothing happened.
     “Did you think I would Load it?” Questioned Dr. Smith. “You have one minute to live before the Program I have installed re-formats your entire hard drive, permanently erasing what ever you are.  But I can still Stop it, Do you Repent?”
 “NEVER!”
   “Then Goodnight, Mr. Robot.”

-=fig. 613: bug deletion=-

That was when the miraculous, viral, confused and murderous thing that had been The Leader of an off-shoot branch of deadly MK4s, died.
 The MK7 sagged.
   Then played a cheerful eight-bit tune and stood to attention, all remnants of The Leader had been erased.

“Mk7,” Dr. Smith said “Begin Cleaning this room. Erase the Memories and Hard Drives of any MK4 you find, and set them up again in the manufacture hall.”
  The MK7 tried to salute. Then set about its task.
“Why do I feel sad?”  Asked Capt. Brown.
   “Because we just killed a life-form that created itself, and now are using its corpse for menial tasks. C'mon, I'll get Jeeves to make some bacon.”

-=-

knock knock knock.

 “Who is it?”
   “A representative From the Offices of Mr. Radio.”

¹Dr. Smith mistrusts wheels. Always has.

 ²This is a lie.

 ³This is another lie.

⁴Because he really was terrible at lying.

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #89: The Head Is Purely Ornamental

Glenn couldn't breathe.
  The big metal…thing had snuck up behind him and was sucking his life out, at least it felt like that.  It's big metal arm was at his throat. Choking him.
   He managed to scream.
     Glenn was in town on inland leave, he was a border patrolman.  It was a pretty boring job, because most threats seemed to come from inland, somehow, but the uniform was nice, and the pay was good enough.
          The Sargent had never said anything about big metal things that sneak up behind you and choke you to death.
              Glenn tried to scream again, but he was nearly out of air, so that didn't really work.
   The Sargent, whose name was Arnold, was on inland leave too and had seen Glenn get grabbed by the big metal…thing. Arnold hadn't rose in the cut-throat ranks of border patrolmen by waiting around, so he drew his sword and charged.
He drove the sword into the MK4's head, thinking that's where the brain was. In reality, the The Head is purely ornamental and the brain {Such as it was} was in the torso.

  Arnold, like all Legopolians, had only vague notions about robots, so he couldn't have known that drawing a metal weapon and driving it into one was a terrible idea.

-=fig. 585: electrocution=-

The current traveled out of the MK4, through the sword, and made Arnold's hair stand on end. 

Unfortunately it also traveled over the exposed metal body of the MK4, along its arms, and into Glenn, who was trapped in the MK4's vice-like grip. 

 Pretty much everyone got electrocuted, except the robot, somehow.

-=-

Glenn stood up.  He felt…Good.  “I…Survived!  Sgt. Arnold! I Survived!”

-=fig. 586: dead?=-

A voice like a slab of lead said “YES, ER, ABOUT THAT…”
 Glenn went white.  “I'm Dead, aren't I?”
    DEATH was relieved, this made his job so much easier. “YES, YES YOU ARE.”

-=-

Dr. Smith Rounded the corner.

-=fig. 587: i have you now=-

   He had chased the MK4 that had gotten those poor Border Patrolmen down here, but it had disappeared. He only had the one shot, all the others were with Capt. Brown on the basis that he was a better marksman.
    In retrospect, that was the reverse of what they should have done.
      At least at this range Dr. Smith couldn't miss.

-=fig. 588: in over his head=-

Ah.
 *Zap!*
The MK4's marched forward over the body of the Mk4 Dr. Smith had shot.
 Dr. Smith was out of power now, but the Mk4's didn't really seem to notice him.
  He got out of the way.
   Once they had passed by, Dr. Smith pulled a little computer out of his briefcase and plugged it into the trampled robot.  The robot was beyond repair, but the little computer allowed Dr. Smith to see the its source code, and the logs, and maybe find out what had caused all this. The logs showed that the…3-X TERM-1: NAT3 virus had deleted Program.1 and replaced the original source code with this:

Var.MK4= Status.PowerOn 

  <Open> Program.2; 
    <Start> Cmd.DESTROY; Var.HUMANS <Ref> File.HUMAN-IDENTIFICATION</Ref>
<WHILE> Var.HUMANS=1+ goto: line3;
 <IF> Var.HUMANS=0 STOP

It was only a few words different from Dr. Smith's original program,  but it was nearly twice as deadly. 
  The earthquake indicated that the MK4's had realised that Dr. Smith was human.
It was time to leave.

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #87: The Radiophonic Racket

“I'm bored”
 “Zachary, sit back down.”

-=fig. 576: phone=-

About an hour ago Dr. Smith and Capt. Brown had been ushered in to this beige room, with beige walls and beige carpets by a friendly enough man with a zany voice, they had been encouraged by the receptionist to take a seat and told that Mr. Radio would be with them soon.
This boring room was the headquarters of QPFA, Downtown Legopolis, Your Source For Radio Programming.

It was also where Capt. Brown had convinced Dr. Smith they should start looking for radio dramas to play on TaVee.
  ”Remind me again why I had to come?” Dr. Smith whined, he wasn't good at sitting in one place for what felt like hours.
   “Because I have no idea how this thing works.   Don't worry, just leave most of the talking to me.”  Capt. Brown {being the Mayor,} was a good talker.
The big beige doors opened, and Mr. Radio stepped through.
   “I Apologise for Keeping you waiting.” He said.  “I hear you have something to sell me. If it's encyclopædias I have a set, if its cookies I'll take a dozen boxes of the mint ones.”

-=fig. 577: mr. radio=-

Mr. Radio was an older man, with a boring grey suit, a boring grey briefcase, and a boring grey beard.
  “Well, You don't look like little girls so you can't be pushing cookies.”
      “Mr. Radio,” started Capt. Brown “I am Captain James Brown, the Mayor, and this is my associate, Dr. Smith.”
     Dr. Smith was wearing his best tweed suit, which, if we're being honest, is just his cleanest tweed suit. Capt. Brown could only be described as…scruffy.
    Pressing police business had prevented him from shaving this morning, {but he probably wouldn't have remembered anyway,} And his leather trenchcoat was at this point more trench than coat. 
     Mr. Radio eyed them suspiciously.
The mayor everyone knows from the coins is clean-shaven.
   And has a funnier hat.
    “How did you get in my building?” accused Mr. Radio,
       “Sir,” Dr. Smith said “I have invented a technology that will revolutionise radio forever.”
    “Oh you have, have you?  And what have you invented?  A deeper bass? More powerful antennæ? A new kind of cowboy? You and every other crackpot. Get out of my lobby.”
    Dr. Smith couldn't understand sarcasm, so Mr. Radio's speech was baffling to him.
  “I haven't invented any of that, what I have invented is a way to transmit and receive moving pictures over the radio waves. Cheap, too.”
    Mr. Radio stopped, “Moving Pictures…You mean like movies?”
       “Oh yeah!  It could do movies too!”  This had never occurred to Dr. Smith.  “James, next we need to talk to RKO.”
    “You got it Zachary.”
     Mr. Radio waved off the guards who had come to firmly escort the crackpots out.
       “Maybe we should talk in my office.  Did you bring it with you?”
         “Yeah–” Dr. Smith said, then Capt. Brown stepped on his foot.  Things tended to go south fast when Dr. Smith had a chance to talk to actual people for any length of time.
              “It's the thing on wheels with the cloth covering it.” Capt. Brown finished “If you could get those strong-looking guards you just waved off to bring it in, it's pretty heavy.”

-=-

“Do you have an AC plug in this room?”  Dr. Smith asked.

   “In the corner.” 

    The TaVee Flickered, and emitted a gentle static. 

It sparked to life.

-=fig. 578: on-the-go-tavee=-

“Ah! Who's that?”

 “Jeeves.  He's my…” Capt. Brown had warned Dr. Smith about this earlier, he had said that people don't buy things from a guy with a butler.  It gives the impression you don't need the money. “…Jeeves.” Dr. Smith finished lamely.

  “Sir?  Does the red light mean it's going?” Jeeves asked.
Capt. Brown handed Dr. Smith a phone. “Do you mind if we use your phone?”
Mr. Radio shrugged.
  Dr. Smith dialed, and the phone in the laboratory rang.

    “It's Live.” Mr. Radio gasped,

      “Didn't I mention that?”

 “So what do you call this thing?” Asked Mr. Radio.

   “TaVee.” Answered Capt. Brown.

    “Sounds foreign.”

      “It's an acronym,” Piped up Dr. Smith, who had forgotten all about letting Capt. Brown talk “It stands for Tele-Audio-Visual Entertainment Engine. ”

         “Free bit of advice, nobody will go for something that sounds that foreign.  Make your acronym two letters, TaVee won't go anywhere, but I can see TV taking off.  So what is it you want me to buy? ”
   This is where Capt. Brown knew what he was doing, in his role as mayor he dealt with a lot of trade professionals, “What we'd like you to buy are the rights to broadcast Ta–TV signals, you have the radio infrastructure, and we also think that some of your existing shows would look great in Living Monochrome, with very little initial financial outlay on your part.”
   Mr. Radio looked hard at Capt. Brown, “Have you ever seen a Radio Program being produced?  It's all done in a studio, where the sounds are best. Our Cowboys come in dressed in suits, our horses are cocoanuts.  Creating visual content would be a huge outlay on my part.  Why do I want the rights?  How do I Even know this is going to be popular?  What if nobody goes for it? I mean, It's awfully grainy.”
    “That's because I'm piggybacking AM 91.1 with a little radar dish strapped to my roof.” Dr Smith chimed in  “Once you start broadcasting it yourself the quality will increase exponentially.”
     “What  if somebody tunes into 91.1?”
“I think it's time to leave.” Capt. Brown said “I was going to let you in on the ground floor here, but I guess you're not interested.  Zachary, Where's RKO headquartered?”
  Mr. Radio stopped him, “I never said I wasn't interested, I just said it would cost a lot on my end.  How much do you want?”
   Capt. Brown took a quick glace at Dr. Smith, they hadn't actually discussed price.
      “Four-hundred dollars.  With a fifteen percent royalty on any advertising revenue you make. ”
    Mr. Radio took a step back.  “Four-Hundred… That's steep. Two.”
      “Three-Fifty.”
         “Three-Twenty-Five.”
            “Done.  Dr. Smith will have the rights, all written up official-like, to you within the week. C.O.D.*, Because I'm nice.  Have a day.”
They left.

  -=-

-=fig. 579: e street=-

Dr. Smith and Capt. Brown walked along the sidewalk, towards the next radio station.
“So…What did we sell him?”
   “The rights to broadcast on television. Being the first one on a new medium is a huge advantage.”
      “And he paid Three-Hundred-and-Twenty-five dollars for that?  Sucker.”
         Capt. Brown laughed, “Yes he was.” He said.  They'd started early, so they were planning on knocking out a couple more radio stations before lunch.  It was a nice enough day, slightly overcast, but nothing too threatening. If this weren't a city, A bird might have sang. Since this was a city, A seagull mugged a robin within an inch of it's songbird life.
   People buzzed about, obviously, stupidly busy.
      A phone-booth rang.
        It rang again.
          Dr. Smith passed it by.
             It stopped.
                Another phone booth, a few yards away, started ringing.
                  This pattern repeated twice more before Dr. Smith figured it out and picked up the receiver.
  “Sir?” Said a nervous, faintly robotic voice on the other end, “We have a…Problem.”

   

*Cash On Delivery
     

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #77: Clinically

Last Week as you Recall…

Dr. Smith's mind, comfortable in the warm, pink fog of nearly-awake, sighed. 

Unfortunately, you can only be nearly-awake for so long. 

-=fig. 553: stuck=-

Dr. Smith sat up in the warm, cozy bed.
  "I feel…Great!"  He said.
   "You should," replied Capt. Brown, who was sitting nearby. "They pumped you so full of pain medication I was starting to get worried you wouldn't want to wake up."
Dr. Smith took stock of his flowery surroundings.
   "Where am I?"  He asked.
    "According to the plaque on the door, room three-seventy-seven a.   It was the first one that the E.M.T's came to."
"So I'm inside The House?"
"Yeah, it's just a flowery room."
 Dr. Smith became aware of the remarkably uncomfortable clothes he was wearing.
   "What am I wearing?"
   "Scrubs.  It was either scrubs or that dress thing they make the patients wear.  And it's only because I'm loud they didn't put you in the dress thing."
   "Thanks, I guess."
    "You're welcome."
Dr. Smith looked at Capt.  Brown, he looked pretty good for a stabbing victim.
   "What happened to you?  You were stabbed!  How come you aren't in the hospital?"
    "Oh it was just a—" Capt. Brown winced "—Flesh wound.  I got out days ago."
"Oh."  The meaning of the words took awhile to reach Dr. Smith's heavily medicated mind.
   "Wait… 'Days ago'?  How long have I been out!"
 Capt. Brown shrugged.  "About a week, But you haven't been asleep the whole time, you came and went.  You did sustain some pretty serious brain damage.  But I got the second-best brain surgeon in the city to look after you."
   "What was the first-best brain surgeon doing?"
   "Being operated on."
    "Oh, yeah, that's me isn't it.  I forgot."
 Dr. Smith tried to stand up.
 Twelve minutes later he woke up in bed.
 "What happened?"
 "You passed out.   You may feel great but that's just the medication talking.  Don't move."
"For how long?"  There was more than a note of complaint in his voice.
  "The docs said not to let you move for at least another week."
    A thought occurred to Dr. Smith.
   "But what if I have to…?"
   "There's a ceramic bowl underneath the bed."
They both shuddered.   No one was looking forward to the ceramic bowl.

-=-

Dr. Smith sighed. 

  Laying in bed for days is great if you're asleep, but if you're awake it is one of the most boring things ever, Second only to clothes shopping.

  After the second day Capt. Brown was called away on matters of city-wide importance that seemed to mainly consist of mounds of paperwork, and  Once Capt. Brown was gone, the doctors came back, they were proper doctors and as far as Dr. Smith could tell not one of them was Romanian.     

Sometimes Jeeves would come in with food,  and it was through Jeeves that Dr. Smith learned what had happened after he had gone out to look for food. 

-=-

"-zzz I Repeat, the war is over!  The french have finally surrenderedzzz-"

Capt. Brown turned off the radio.   

"I guess that mean I have to go." He said. 

-=fig. 554: goo-goo eyes=-

"Will I ever see you again?"  Asked Ms. Teresa Phillips.

  "Probably." Capt. Brown answered, softly. "But you never know.  I may…never return." 

"Oh James!"  Ms. Teresa Phillips said, in a ridiculous voice. 

  "Captain?"  

  "What, Jeeves!"  Capt. Brown said, annoyed that Jeeves had ruined his romantic-ish moment. 

 "I have found the reason the food disappeared." 

 "And what is the reason, Jeeves."   Capt. Brown's tone suggested that he didn't appreciate the interruption. 

-=fig. 555: furry beasts=-

 "We have been infested with furry beasts." 

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #48: Putzkammer

Last week as you recall,  Jeeves had just revealed where the colours of The Grand City Of Legopolis {Last seen in the clutches of the villainous Von TipRău} were being hidden.

"Putzkammer's Delicatessen?" asked Dr. Smith, as if he could hardly believe it.

"Yes Sir." 

"But that's just across the street from here!"
And indeed it was,  Putzkammer's delicatessen was an abandoned building, derelict yet architecturally significant, directly across the street from Dr. Smith's house.

 Unfortunately Dr. Smith, Morton {Dr. Smith's father} And Jevves 2.0 were inside Dr. Smith's garage and laboratory, a place only accessible through the trunk of Dr. Smith's car. 
     "How are we going to get there, Zachary?" asked Morton.
       "Why, The Door, of course."

-=fig. 334: hello, The Door=-

     "Of course."
        "Don't you like The Door dad?"
"Not particularly.
    "Tell you what, I'll go first."
Dr. Smith walked up the catwalk to The Door, turned the handle, and stepped through.
     There was no special effect, no sound other than the creak of the wind and the thud of Dr. Smith's body as he hit towards the ground at high speed.
   "Ow."  He said.

-=fig. 335: red captain brown=-

A more literal translation would have been "AAARRRGH! STUPID NORTHERN LEATHER!"
     This was because his briefcase had flown out of the window and hit him in the head.

"Hi Zachary.  You came out of that window at quite a clip, you all right?"
Dr. Smith groaned, "Yeah, James. I'm fine, but I don't think The Door likes me much.  Why are you bright red?"  Capt. Brown sighed, "The admiral's here, turns out he didn't get mono-chomized like all the rest, and he's taken control of the whole situation.  His first order of business was to get me out of my old 'more-patch-than-coat', and into the Official Mayoral Uniform."  At the words 'Official Mayoral Uniform' Capt. Brown's fingers tightened and formed themselves into an angry fist, his teeth set themselves on edge, and his eyebrows shot skyward.  
    "Sorry about that James,"–said Dr. Smith, sympathetically–"Help me up.  Oh, and put something soft right here, Morton and Jeeves should be along shortly."  As Capt. Brown set off to find somebody who could cushion Morton and Jeeves' falls, an old man in a blue coat with gold epaulets and a stupid hat walked up to Dr. Smith and started to talk at him "WHO THE BLAZES ARE YOU!?"
     Dr. Smith was affronted, he had never been so verbally abused by a stranger in his own yard before.   He carefully bent to retrieve his hat, and only when it was perfectly straightened did he deign to answer the bothersome verbal assailant.
     "My name, horrible sir, is Doctor Zachary Smith, you may call me Dr. Smith, and I own that building, that building, and this alleyway that we are in now.  Who The Blazes Are You?"  Unshaken by this sudden supply of unexpected information, the admiral supplied his name, "They call me The Admiral and I own this County.  I Don't like insolent little <expletive>s like you shooting out of windows at every turn–"–This was punctuated by Morton and Jeeves shooting out of said window and landing on three rather pudgy cadets,  who were, apparently, the softest things Capt. Brown could find–"–Why when I was your age son I had to fight my way up from the streets, battling barbarians and republicans till I was at the top of the legislative pile and by Jacob I still have some fight left in me!"  Having said his piece, The Admiral collapsed and started to snore.  Dr. Smith watched him fall, with pity. "Narcoleptic.  James?"  Capt. Brown appeared from around the side of Dr. Smith's house, where he had been trying his darnedest to conjure a pot of tea.  His inability to find Dr. Smith's kitchen had not hampered his efforts in the least.    "Zachary? How do I get into your house?  Every time I try the front door it just leads me back outside."  Dr. Smith looked at him, then realized what he meant. "You need to unlock the door with the key, other wise you are just on a feedback loop.  It's a security measure.  What I wanted to talk to you about is, oh what was it… Ah, I remember now.

-=fig. 336: the barricaded petunias=-

WHAT IN JACOB'S NAME HAVE YOU DONE TO MY PROPERTY!"
   "Its a barricade."
    "Please tell me you didn't dig up my petunias."
   "We needed a base for the barricade, sorry."
 While Dr. Smith did not weep over the loss of his plants, it obviously hit him hard.  "Why are you so upset over these plants Zachary?" asked Capt. Brown, "As far as I know the only thing you're not at all good at is gardening.  So what gives?"  Dr. Smith looked him in the eye, "They were fossils.  I was engineering them from fossils recently discovered in Peru.  five thousand years the world has been without this particular strain of petunia, and you dig it up for a barricade."

It was then that a black top hat trailing darkness shot through the sky.

-=fig. 337: topper=-

Join us next week for our next exciting episode,

#49: TipRău's Tip Top Toppers

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.