Robot Trouble Read Online Free Page A

end of it.
    As it was, she was bouncing along in her own duner right behind them. So she had undoubtedly seen his near miss. She’d probably still suggest he needed a CAT scan to see if there was a bolt or two loose in his brain.
    â€œTurn here,” said Hap, pointing to the left. “There’s a back way to the warehouse over there.”
    The dune buggy bounced across the uneven ground, and soon they pulled up outside Warehouse Two.
    Wendy skidded to a stop beside them.
    Three Jeeps, marked with the insignia of the island’s security patrol, were already parked outside the building. Sitting in one of them, looking as angry as they had ever seen him, was Dr. Hwa.
    â€œWait! Where do you think you’re going?” he yelled as the three youngsters sprinted past him for the warehouse door. They ignored him. The scientist might be the island’s head honcho, but when their friends needed help, that didn’t mean a thing.
    Roger threw open the door, and the three kids burst into the warehouse.

    Â 
    Robots
    â€œI’m sorry, Dr. Weiskopf!” sputtered Rachel as she tried to catch her breath. “I just wasn’t expecting anything like… like… th-th-this!”
    She exploded in laughter again.
    The “this” she was referring to was a barrel-shaped robot with a five-by-five grid of flashing, multicolored lights centered on its chest. From its base jutted three stubby cylinders with wheels on their bottoms.
    All of this was standard, if a little clumsy in its styling. What had set Rachel to laughing was the robot’s face, which was unmistakably modeled after the great composer Ludwig van Beethoven. The bizarre contrast between the robot’s face and its body was what had started her laughing fit. The startled look on Dr. Weiskopf’s face had kept it going. Now no matter how she tried, she couldn’t stop.
    Looking mournful, Dr. Weiskopf raised his penny-whistle and played a little tune. The robot pivoted and began to roll out of the room.
    â€œWait!” cried Rachel. The robot didn’t stop.
    She took a deep breath. Using all her willpower, she forced herself to hold it. Her lungs were almost ready to explode when she felt another burst of laughter coming on. She clamped her mouth shut, feeling as if she were trying to hold in a massive, inevitable sneeze. For an instant she was afraid the top of her head might blow off.
    Slowly she released the air from her lungs, then took another deep breath. She did this three times, then said softly, “Sorry. I’m all right now.”
    Dr. Weiskopf looked at her carefully. Still not speaking, he placed the whistle to his lips and resummoned the robot.
    When it rolled back into the room Dr. Weiskopf said, “Rachel, I’d like you to meet Euterpe.”
    Rachel bit the inside corners of her mouth and tried desperately not to break into a new fit of giggling. What a name to drop on someone trying to keep a straight face!
    Stop it! she commanded herself. I absolutely forbid you to start laughing again!
    After a brief struggle, she was in control, despite the absurd name. Then she remembered that she had heard it before and decided perhaps it wasn’t quite so ridiculous after all.
    â€œEuterpe—wasn’t she the muse of music in Greek mythology?”
    â€œVery good! As you will see, the name was chosen for a reason. Let me show you what she can do.”
    Positioning himself in front of Euterpe, Dr. Weiskopf took out his pennywhistle again. The grid of lights on the robot’s chest was glowing, but so faintly as to be barely discernible.
    Dr. Weiskopf put the whistle to his lips and piped a single, pure note.
    How does he do that? wondered Rachel. She had tried for days now, and still could not get the wobble out of her tones.
    Before she had time to give the matter much thought, the robot answered its creator, repeating the tone perfectly. The sound was pretty, but nothing very