Chaos on CatNet, Naomi Kritzer [bill gates books recommendations txt] 📗

trip, which is funny, because I took off to Massachusetts to try to rescue CheshireCat with a lot less preparation than I’ll have this time. I’m suddenly filled with a new appreciation for Rachel and what she did for me—helping me hide from my father, helping me get to Massachusetts to save CheshireCat, all of it. If she did that for me, I can do this for Nell.

A winter storm rolls in on Thursday night, leaving me wondering whether we’ll be able to go anywhere on Saturday, but it drops a mere four inches of snow before moving on. I have to wade through two houses’ worth of unshoveled snow to get to the bus stop on Friday morning, but by Friday afternoon, the streets are plowed and the sidewalks are mostly clear.

There’s a package waiting on my doorstep. I’m examining it to see if it’s something my mom ordered that I should bring in, when my phone pings and it’s CheshireCat saying, “It’s from me! It’s a robot!”

“What?”

“You can get mail now without your mother thinking you’re being stalked, right? So I just shipped it to you.”

“You sent me a robot?” It is a very large package but not quite as heavy as I’d feared. I haul it inside, hoping my mother will be working so I don’t have to answer any questions. Even better: she appears to be out. I leave the box to shed its snow on the floor of the kitchen and find some scissors to cut the packing tape.

It is, in fact, a robot, packed neatly in molded foam. “Why did you send me a robot?”

“So I can come along with you tomorrow. Plug it in; it needs to charge.”

There are two removable battery packs, which can be charged separately. I plug both of them into the power strip in my bedroom and set the robot upright on its legs.

It’s about the size of a beagle and built in a sort of a dog shape, with four legs and a head. Except the head also unfolds into an arm with a gripping bit at the end. I check the box it came in, grab the manual and a little baggie with a tiny screwdriver that I might need later, and take the rest out to the trash so my mom won’t ask any awkward questions. She knows about CheshireCat, but “One of my online friends turned out to be a sentient AI” is the sort of thing I try not to make her think about too often.

“You don’t need to worry about the manual,” CheshireCat assures me. “I can walk you through the steps to let me control it through the data network.”

This whole idea makes me nervous, given CheshireCat’s history with the self-driving car. Still, this is a small robot. Small and light enough to lift, although heavy enough to be annoying if I’m carrying it very far. I’d say, “How much trouble could CheshireCat possibly cause with such a small robot?” but realistically, the answer is, “Seriously, so much.”

Although at Coya Knutson, they’d probably be fine with CheshireCat’s approach to sex ed, at least.

I can snap one battery into the dog and let it continue charging, so I do that and follow CheshireCat’s instructions to finish the setup.

“What do people normally use this robot for?” I ask.

“It’s mostly a toy that rich people buy to show off to other rich people.” CheshireCat switches over and speaks through the actual robot. It’s disconcerting to hear their voice change. The phone voice is sort of high-pitched, while the dog’s voice is deeper and a little bit gravelly. “They have a larger and more functional version, but that one wouldn’t have arrived in time. Also, it might have elicited more questions from Nell.”

CheshireCat tests out the robot’s movements: the head unfolding up off the body and opening into an arm, the little prancing legs. The robot bounces in place. It makes a faint rasping sound with each step, like someone rhythmically sawing wood.

“Yeah, so,” I say. “How exactly are you planning to explain this to Nell?”

“Tell her your hacker friend is driving it.”

“That means if you say anything out loud, you will need to sound like a human.”

“I faked being a human to you for a long time and you never caught on.”

“True,” I say, “but we were in a chat room. Hearing your voice come out of a robot is different. It’s just different. I think she’s more likely to suspect something.”

“Do you want to leave the robot behind to avoid questions?” CheshireCat asks.

“No,” I say. “Just, if you screw it up and out yourself to Nell, that’s your problem to solve.”

“I understand,” CheshireCat says. “How trustworthy do you think Nell is?”

“I barely know her,” I say. “I guess I don’t think she’d tattle.”

CheshireCat bounces in place again and says, “That’s good. I’ll try to stick to text for talking to you.”

Over dinner, I tell Mom that Nell is going to take me to Wisconsin tomorrow.

Mom looks genuinely surprised by this. “Didn’t you just meet her, and now you’re bringing her along on a trip to visit your girlfriend?”

“Well, it’s not like I can get there by myself.”

“You didn’t even ask me for a ride!”

“Nell’s gay,” I say. “And she was raised by a superconservative Christian mom. I think it would help her to spend some time around a couple of fellow queer teens who aren’t completely screwed up.”

Mom’s eyes soften at that. “Well, that’s fine,” she says. “I just, you know, the next time you need a ride to New Coburg…”

“Do you want to drive me two hours each way?”

“Not really,” Mom says. “But I’m willing!”

“So, it’s settled,” I say.

“Steph,” Mom adds as I carry my dish into the kitchen, “there’s something I want to tell you that’s kind of related. When you have a minute.”

I come back out. “What do you mean, ‘kind of related’?”

“You have a grandmother,” Mom says. “Well, you have two, actually. But my mother wants to come