“That’s amazing! What is it?” Calliope said.

Lucy put forth a happy squeal, though she had little idea what she was supposed to be happy about. Hooray! A new random assortment of shapes and colours!

In simplest terms, it was a chair with legs. However, it had six legs, metal ones, with insectile articulation and pointed feet that clicked on the tile.

Oh, yeah, and it was moving under its own power. It was following Milo around the front room, clambering its way up onto the walls when there wasn’t enough floor space.

It had been painted pink with red and white flowers, to match the oil-paper umbrella that was slotted into its metal carapace at an ideal angle for shading the chair. On the back of it, where the license plate would go on a more conventional vehicle, a slogan was painted in slick white script that was raked forward for maximal coolness: All or Nothing!

“It’s Erik’s old highchair,” Hyacinth said with a smirk. She folded her arms and casually popped out one hip. “Version Two.”

Erik’s delighted expression fell. “No… fair.”

Mordecai put a gentle hand on the top of his head. “I’m sorry we only had Gregory for magic and not Milo, dear one.” He shuddered as the machine skittered past him. No, no I am not. I am not at all sorry. And I’m not even sorry I’m not sorry.

Milo walked the machine to a halt in front of Calliope and the baby, then switched over one of its twin dials from “Follow” to “Stationary.” The legs spread into a tent shape for stability and the machine stilled. He pointed at the machine and then pointed at Erik. He cocked his head with a quizzical expression. You want one?

Erik’s grin returned and he nodded rapidly.

“Erik gets one?” Maggie cried. “I want one!”

“It is unnecessary,” the General said. “You are perfectly capable of sticking to walls, if you would only apply yourself.”

Milo frowned at the General. You don’t get “fun” do you, lady? He nodded firmly at both kids and signed them a thumbs up.

Hyacinth ducked in between them, “No, no, no. Milo, we’ve gotta start making decoys. Sometimes we get storms in the spring. This was fun, but Lucy needed it. We’re not building anything else until we’ve got enough decoys.”

Milo’s mouth fell open. He shook his head and sorted his cards to select one for drawing on the back. He had a lot of cards for this! He picked the one extolling the virtues of the “mode” and “motion” features and leaned over the end table with it.

“What’s ‘all or nothing’?” Calliope asked. She had a hand on the chassis and had tipped back the umbrella to examine it. “Is that Lucy’s new motto?” She grinned. “That’s a good motto!”

“Eee!” Lucy said. She had both hands out towards the bright round crinkly thing, which she desired to crumple and cram in her mouth like one of Milo’s cards.

“It’s not bad, but it’s for me,” Hyacinth said.

She affectionately patted the machine. It rumbled a vibration that resembled a purr and pushed back against the pressure of her hand. She came up with that; Milo didn’t know from cute animals, whereas Hyacinth made a habit of repairing the neighbourhood strays whenever she could catch them. This poor thing badly needed a helping of “cute,” it had too many legs and it sounded like a box full of cockroaches.

Milo came up with the pink paint and the flowers, but Hyacinth didn’t think that helped as much.

“I’m not allowed to take pieces off,” she went on. “Not like everything else. It’s not safe. If I want any metal off him, I have to kill him.”

“Aw,” Calliope said. She patted the machine. He appeared to like that. “But I love him.”

Hyacinth waved a hand. “Oh, we’ll make you another one, Calliope. A better one. The chair is wood, we can build on it until it falls apart. I’ll try to leave this version alone until we’re done with the decoys… Oh?”

She accepted the card from Milo. He had drawn a toaster and put a question mark beside it. When she looked over the top of the card at him, he was gazing back with puppy dog eyes.

Hyacinth sighed. She lifted her index finger to declaim, “Milo, if you are going to waste time on a new toaster, it had better be able to fly around the house and attract magic strikes.”

Milo beamed at her and signed her a thumbs up.

Hyacinth turned away and muttered, “I did not give you permission to do that on purpose…”

Milo handed Calliope a deck of cards with random excitement and trivia all over them: You can adjust the frequency and find one Lucy likes, I put pieces of a metronome in there!… He gets out of the way so no one will bump into him in the kitchen, and he can stick to the wall!… He collapses for storage! It’s automatic!… You can tell him to go wherever you want, or he’ll follow you if you ask him to!… The umbrella comes off for inside, but he’s a pram, too!… He has a safety mode!…

Calliope accepted the cards and shifted Lucy against her. “Ooh, Cin, grab the baby, I’ve got homework right now…”

Hyacinth did not step forward. “Put her in the chair,” she said, smiling.

“Yeah!” Erik said.

“Uh, Calliope, Lucy is a little young…” Mordecai said.

“Have you tested this object with a living creature in the passenger compartment?” the General said.

Milo scowled at her.

“Oh, for gods’ sakes, it’s not like he’s gonna pop out a bunch of flying knives!” Hyacinth said. “Unless that’s a late add…?” she asked aside.

Milo gravely shook his head.

“Right!” Hyacinth said. “He’s a chair! Save-Me mode is purely defensive!”

“Save-Me mode?” Mordecai said.

“Oh.” Hyacinth snorted. “It’s ‘safety mode,’ but I call things whatever I want. Milo can’t make me quit.”

Milo nodded.

Meanwhile, Calliope was considering her new hybrid chair-pram-thing with a pocketful of interesting reading material awaiting her. On the one hand, obviously Lucy needed to go in that chair. That was what it was for. And it was awesome. On the other hand, it seemed like, probably, if you were a mom, you shouldn’t just plop your baby into a vibrating machine. No matter how awesome it was. Even if there was an obvious place for a baby.

It was like that postcard, “Put Baby in Pelican Mouth,” in raggedy printing like it was the pelican talking. Because a pelican would like to eat your baby. Do not put baby in pelican mouth, no matter what Pelican says.

She pushed gently on the bottom of the little wooden seat. The machine bounced daintily and pushed back, purring at her. Pelican friend!

“We sanded it, hon, don’t worry,” Hyacinth put in.

Aw, come on, they even sanded it, Calliope thought. Cin and Milo are really smart, they do not want to eat my baby.

Gently, supporting her under the diaper, she placed Lucy in the wooden seat and guided her feet through the square holes, into the ample space under the metal dash. There was a flat space in shiny steel with smooth, raised edges which would accept a small portion of food, if not quite a whole plate. Like a teeny little horse trough!

It needs a steering wheel, Calliope thought. If Cin kills this one, the next one needs a steering wheel. And some squeaky buttons. She released Lucy and took a step back.

Mordecai and the General both took a step forward, with their hands out. The General noted this and narrowed her eyes at him, unseen.

The machine straightened, pushing back against a new weight which might have been more petting, then it clicked in acceptance, switching gears and engaging auto-collapse for storage if the weight was removed later. It settled and remained stationary in the absence of further input.

“Aie!” Lucy said. This was a lot taller than she usually was when her mom put her down — and no soup can mobile…?

Crinkly thing! She reached for it and flopped sideways.

Calliope scolded her gently and set her upright again, “It’s ai-ya, Lucy, and that’s for when Euterpe is eating the ice cream sprinkles right out of the tin.”

Lucy was investigating the smooth, cold shininess in front of her with pudgy fingers like an aspiring pianist.

Ooh, she needs toys right there, Milo thought. Like a fake steering wheel, that’d be cool… He smiled. Version Three!

“Let me show you how to get him to follow you, Calliope,” Hyacinth said. “You’ve got options. You can stick him anywhere you can reach.” She indicated the first dial, which had three modes: “Place,” “Stationary” and “Follow.”

“I think I’ve got instructions,” Calliope said. She had her glasses on and was sorting the cards.

“Maybe somewhere, but this isn’t hard,” Hyacinth said. “He knows everyone in the house, so he won’t run off after a stranger on accident. Here, you flip the dial…”

“Excuse me, how does ‘he’ know everyone in the house?” Mordecai said, still hovering with both hands out.

Hyacinth lowered her head and grinned darkly. Her eyes seemed to lengthen at the corners, like an evil cartoon character. “We’ve stolen your blood as you slept.”

“Oh, my gods…”

Milo frowned and folded his arms over his chest.

“Oh, we’ve stolen your hair and fingernails as you slept,” Hyacinth amended with a wave of her hand.

“That’s not any less creepy!” said Mordecai.

Milo shrugged and waggled a hand.

Maggie cautiously approached the machine. Oh, man, this thing is one of those complex systems Mom’s always warning me about…

“…There’s a little box, it’s hardwired,” Hyacinth said. “He’s totally safe, you can only get him with anti-magic.”

“I doubt that,” the General said. Milo interposed himself between her and the machine, frowning.

“What happens if you get him with anti-magic?” Calliope asked.

“He freezes and he’s just a chair,” Hyacinth said. “He’s safe, Calliope!” She sounded faintly wounded. “Geez!”

Complex systems and emergent behaviour, Maggie thought, poking the machine with a doubtful finger. Aberrant behaviour…

“Anyway, look,” Hyacinth said. She switched the dial over to “Follow,” then tapped the machine twice quickly on its pink-painted muzzle. “Double-tap, that means ‘pay attention to me.’ And it’s in ‘Follow,’ so that’s all you have to do.” She turned and walked off, making the circuit of the front room like Milo had.

“Ee!” Lucy said. “Aiee-yee!”

Hyacinth had to raise her voice to be understood as the machine found purchase on the dining room wall at her heel, avoiding her skirt. “If you want to do ‘Place,’ double-tap him and then double-tap where you want to put him. Like this.”

Mordecai made an involuntary noise of horror when she ratcheted the dial over to “Stationary” and then “Place,” heedless of the fact that half of the thing’s feet were on the wall at the moment.

The machine displayed no instability and waited patiently for her to tell it to put itself at head-height on the opposite wall, then it crawled over there with its giggling passenger and partially collapsed its legs, holding Lucy upright with adequate clearance for the umbrella above her. She noticed it again and demanded it.

Mordecai half-expected the thing to bend over and hand it to her, like Frankenstein giving that little girl a flower.

Milo was wondering if he ought to add a function that might allow it to do that… and maybe a repel charm so Lucy couldn’t actually eat the umbrella. At least Hyacinth wouldn’t eat it, it was all bamboo, that was why they picked that kind.

Milo winced. Ooh, is that racist? he thought, as the clicking, mechanical monstrosity clambered down from the wall and strode past him with its infant hostage in tow. Lucy doesn’t look… He groped for a word. Xinese-y…?

One-quarter Wakokuhito, Milo. And it is very hard to look one-quarter anything. You could be one-quarter Wakokuhito, for all we know.

I’m half-vampire, Ann. We’ve been over this.

Yes, yes…

“Here, Calliope, you drive,” Hyacinth said.

Calliope had her glasses on, and was shuffling the cards like a determined actuary. “What’s the metronome thing he’s talking about?”

Hyacinth snickered. “Oh, yeah, that’s an option. It’s the one on the right.” First she put the one on the left back in “Stationary,” then she turned the other knob about a quarter of the way around. The motion on this one was a lot smoother, like tuning in a radio frequency. It was a kind of frequency.

With all six feet planted firmly on the floor, the machine shimmied its joints and began to rock the little chair back and forth. Lucy flopped sideways again and wobbled in her seat like an aspic mould, giggling.

“He’s a pram and a highchair and a cradle!” Calliope said. “Cool!”

“Just don’t crank it up all the way if you’re gonna make him walk,” Hyacinth said. “It’s too many beers, he knocks into things.”

Mordecai was unable to contain himself, “She’s going to fall on the floor!”

Milo rolled his eyes heavenward, unnoticed. I fixed that, you dummy. I gave it legs!

“It’s not enough to spill a jelly-glass, even if you peg the needle,” Hyacinth said. “Babies are a solid substance.”

“We do not sub a jelly-glass for a human being, you maniac!” Mordecai said. He collected Lucy, since for some reason nobody else seemed liable to do it.

She gave a little shriek and arched backward, objecting in the most rational way she knew how: Oh, yeah? Then I’ll make you drop me, and you’ll feel terrible!

Mordecai weathered it and bounced her in a conciliatory way.

The machine ceased rocking, folded itself into a compact, knee-high ball, and powered down to conserve energy. It ran on sugar.

“Aw, you made him sad,” Calliope said. “And Lucy.”

While Hyacinth was lecturing Mordecai and the General on inviolable safety parameters, Erik crept forward and hopefully patted the machine. It did not respond. “…Dead?” he managed.

Milo shook his head. He put one hand on Erik’s shoulder, then reached out with the other one and decisively shoved down on the seat of the chair. The machine skittered upright and adjusted itself as if waking. Constant pressure, like putting Lucy back in there, would engage the auto-collapse again, as well as start it rocking, unless someone turned that off.

It was all in the cards, but nobody ever wanted to read the directions. If he had Sanaam’s camera, maybe he could’ve done like a film…

“…which means it is physically impossible for this thing to put Lucy at an angle more than ten degrees off parallel to the floor!” Hyacinth finished, stabbing the air with a rhetorical finger. “It is safer than a human being!”

“Give me fifteen minutes alone with it,” the General said.

“Give it a safety harness!” Mordecai said, over Lucy’s wailed protest. “And a crash helmet! And… and… And may I ask you, since you’re the one who can answer me, what the hell was wrong with the regular, normal, non-creepy chair that did not contain a box of my hair and/or fingernails?” Lucy refused to be placated by halfhearted bouncing and an angry man. Calliope removed her to make a better attempt.

“It didn’t have any legs,” Hyacinth said.

“So you gave it six and a personality?”

Hyacinth waved a dismissive hand at the pink, flowered creature with the huge cocktail umbrella sticking out of it that was currently nuzzling Calliope’s hand, much to Lucy’s delight. “Not a real one! It’s gears and magic! Do Milo’s pocket watches have a personality?”

Milo looked up. He nodded. Yes. They are stupid, stubborn, and temperamental.

“Milo,” said Hyacinth, “I love you, but you’re a crazy person.”

Milo nodded again and shrugged.

“This is really great crazy, though,” Calliope said admiringly. “Can we have him if they put a seatbelt, Em?”

Milo considered it, measuring with fingers against the back of the chair. He guessed it might help out until Lucy got a little better at sitting up on her own.

“Calliope,” Mordecai said. He put on a smile and attempted rationality in the face of the blatantly absurd. “He… It… This is not like a pet. …Although you are petting it right now and it’s purring. Look, this is an object that Hyacinth let Milo overbuild to a ridiculous extent because he amuses her. There is no reason they can’t take it back down to the basement and put regular legs on it so it’s not a hazard.”

Milo frowned. People will bump into it in the kitchen if it doesn’t get out of the way! That isn’t safe! He delved into his pocket, but he was all out of cards. He wandered off in search of the kitchen pad.

“Then I don’t have a pram and a cradle,” Calliope said, also very rationally.

“I will walk you to a thrift store and buy the normal versions of those myself,” Mordecai said.

“Are you gonna buy her a personal bodyguard while you’re at it?” Hyacinth said. “Calliope, give me Lucy. She might not like this, it’s for emergencies. You don’t scare easy, do you?”

Calliope smiled. “Nah.” She handed Lucy over. Lucy expressed vocal displeasure at being removed from the vicinity of the crinkly thing and the wummy thing, but she did not try to get Hyacinth to drop her. Yet.

“Okay,” said Hyacinth. She settled the baby against her shoulder and held up two fingers with her free hand. “Two is the magic number. Two taps right next to each other, or in this case, two yells right next to each other. You have to say ‘help, help,’ and say it like you mean it.”

Calliope grinned. She laid the back of her hand across her brow like the fainting lady in Erik’s Highwayman movie poster. “Help, help!” she said plaintively.

Milo peeked out of the kitchen, clutching a half-finished sketch of all the damn chairs, which he was attempting to label with the lack-of-space available, as expressed in inches. He shook his head and gestured at Hyacinth, cutting a hand at chin height and then raising it as far above his head as it could go and drawing a new line there. She didn’t hit the decibels, Cin.

“No, not like you’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers,” Hyacinth said. “Don’t worry about the cops, they don’t care. Ann did one of her murder screams down here once and nobody showed.” She cast a glance at Mordecai. “Which is the point. Pretend the guy with the ice pick is about to get you. Scream.” She pressed Lucy’s head against her and covered one tiny ear with her hand.

Calliope clutched both fists under her chin and screamed, “Help! Help!”

The machine grabbed her. It took three legs, which was why it had six. It juggled her delicately into a seated position, with one spider-leg crooked around her waist for safe keeping, and ran off, still very agile on half its legs.

Calliope giggled like Lucy and hugged the leg that was holding her as the machine scrambled up the wall and wedged itself into the sharp angle of the peaked roof, near the hole where the skylight used to be.

“I want to ride him!” Maggie cried, which expressed Erik’s opinion on the matter as well.

“Wow, I thought he’d pick the closet,” Hyacinth said.

Milo shook his head. You can’t get out of small spaces. Then there’s fire or gas and you die. He’d done a lot of running away, he knew his stuff.

“What is he doing?” the General said.

“Retreating to a defensible position, sir,” Hyacinth said.

The General considered it. “I suppose, if one is able to ignore terrain…”

“Safety harness!” Mordecai shrieked. But since it was not “help, help” or in Calliope’s voice, the machine ignored him. Since he was not nearly as impressive as Calliope stuck to the ceiling, nearly everyone else ignored him too. Erik took hold of his hand and patted it.

Lucy began to cry and Hyacinth patted her. “She’s less than ten degrees off parallel with the floor,” the deranged metalworker reminded him. Calliope’s bare feet were dangling, but her hair was only hanging in her face because she was leaning over and waving at them. “So’s the highchair.”

“Does he….” The General scowled and shook her head. “Does it discount doors and doorways because it cannot detect the terrain past them, or because they may be locked or impassable?” she said

“Ask Milo, I just made the gears for it,” Hyacinth said.

The General’s expression soured. “Damn. I don’t suppose you have any idea what, if anything, it’s meant to do against a ranged attack?”

Hyacinth grinned. “Try one.”

“No!” said Mordecai. Erik tugged on his hand, trying to lead him somewhere a little less stressful. Mordecai wasn’t having it. “They have glued Calliope to the ceiling and they’re going to fire arrows or some damn thing at her and nobody else understands why they should have a problem with it!” he snapped.

The General had formed the tiniest beginning of a purple fireball in her hand, but it dissipated. “No, not without more knowledge of the mechanics. Not in the house.”

Maggie appeared at her side in an instant, smiling and offering a paperback book. “Throw it, Mom.”

“Magnificent, we do not damage works of literature. A book is a valuable…”

Maggie turned it and showed the title, Thin Thighs in 30 Days, a long-ago present from Sanaam.

“All right, then,” the General said tightly. She used magic, to give it a little extra accuracy and distance.

The machine and Calliope’s smiling, waving form warped in a fish-eye effect the General was intimately familiar with. The book impacted the shield spell with a satisfying splat, then disintegrated into individual pages and empty covers. They wafted earthwards like a ticker-tape parade.

She put magic on it, Milo thought. Cheater.

“It’s automated!” cried the General.

The utility of such a thing was immeasurable! Not only for herself or her daughter in bird form, but any airborne escort they might have along, to say nothing of the ground troops. An automated shield spell attached to a broomstick would have saved Corinne!

She wheeled on Milo.

Milo backed into the kitchen and there was a sound of clattering chairs.

“Is it automated? Mr. Rose! Get out of the pantry! How large is it? How heavy is it? How many functions? Is it reducible? I know you can speak! Where’s the damn radio?”

Calliope turned and gravely addressed the machine, “Hey, go help Milo.” She tried tapping him twice on the nose. The machine climbed calmly down from the ceiling and let her down on the floor before returning to “Stationary” mode.

“Yeah, but go help Milo,” Calliope said. She tapped him again and pointed. He purred, briefly. “You’re not real bright, are ya, Mister All-Purpose Lucy-Ambulator?”

Mordecai rushed over to assess Calliope’s damage (none) and Hyacinth was already in the kitchen trying to prevent the General from inflicting more (“It is insupportable that we have a genuine idiot-savant in this house and he refuses to make any attempt to articulate his brilliance unless he is wearing a dress!”).

Maggie was rather cluelessly holding Lucy, who was not happy. Her pigtails were still wafting from Hyacinth blowing past her. Otherwise at a loss, she plopped the crying baby back in the All-Purpose Lucy-Ambulator.

“No!” said Mordecai.

Erik yanked hard on his hand. “Silence is golden,” the green boy sang. That was one of Milo’s records, the Tremeloes. Which would have to do in place of Stop yelling at the baby, you dummy!

The machine purred, straightened, clicked into auto-collapse mode, and began to rock the baby.

“Ga,” Lucy said. She sniffled and quieted. Calliope wiped her eyes and stroked her hair.

“I mean, me and Euterpe had a wind-up swing when we were little, Em. It’s basically that.” Calliope switched the All-Purpose Lucy-Ambulator into “Follow” mode and approached the kitchen to check on Milo. The machine clattered after her, swaying gently from side to side — not like he’d had too many beers, but as if he was thinking of some music he rather liked.

“Safety harness,” Mordecai said weakly.

◈◈◈

An hour later, in the kitchen, Ann was sitting at the table and obediently sewing a safety harness. Hyacinth had a canvas tarp she wasn’t using at the moment, and this was only a little bit of it, in case she took the patch off the roof again for some reason. Hyacinth had already done a buckle and some rivets, this was just to finish off the edges and make it look a bit nicer.

The General was also at the table, poring over some of Milo’s technical drawings with a pocket magnifier. He had given them to her so she would leave Mister All-Purpose Lucy-Ambulator the hell alone. Up until then, she had been threatening to take either one or both of them apart, it wasn’t quite clear.

Now she was quiet. Mostly. Even with the magnifier and the precision of the drawings, there was some detail lacking. “Mister…” She sighed. “Miss Rose, your grasp of magical notation does not seem to be able to keep up with your virtuosic leaps of logic. This series of functions does not support…”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ann replied, by rote. She wasn’t going to make any attempt to articulate Milo’s brilliance to that harpy even with the dress, thank you very much.

The General grumbled and returned to the drawings.

Hyacinth was stirring a pot of noodles and intermittently pawing through Ann and Milo’s sewing box, just in case she had failed to note some metal object she might want later. She wasn’t going to kill Lucy’s highchair for a long time, if she could help it. All those pins and needles and things would fix a few people, then she could start in on the stove.

Mordecai was too emotionally exhausted to do dinner. He had collapsed in one of the big chairs in the front room. The kids were keeping an eye on him and playing, Hyacinth could hear them going up and down the stairs.

Calliope and Lucy had gone into Room 103, ostensibly to find a good place to store Mister All-Purpose Lucy-Ambulator, but that was quite some time ago. Hyacinth had an idea they were also playing, which was fine with her. The thing didn’t need a safety harness.

Calliope came barrelling into the kitchen with a wide grin plastered across her face, followed by the machine, which climbed considerately onto the wall to get out of the way. “Cin! Ann! Glorie! You have to come see him, he… Oh, there he is.” She snickered and waved, “Hi there, Mister Lu-ambulator.” All-Purpose Lucy-Ambulator was too many words.

Lucy beamed at her and cooed.

“Did you guys know he dances?” Calliope said.

◈◈◈

Calliope put her record player on the end table and lifted the lid. The record was already in place. She engaged the turntable and lifted the needle.

The Lu-ambulator was standing nearby and swaying gently with Lucy inside, as if in anticipation.

“He’s only good for one play-through, it’s ’cos he’s wiggling,” Calliope said.

She settled the needle at the edge of the record, and an instant later the opening chords of “Supersonic Rocket Ship” by the Kinks emerged from the little speaker. She leaned down and fiddled with the “motion” dial on the Lu-ambulator, frowning as he bounced against her and messed with her accuracy. She let go and lifted the needle shortly after the percussion kicked in but before the singing started. “Okay, got it.”

She racked him into “Place” mode, lifted one of his front legs until it was pointing at the ceiling, stuck him back in “Stationary” mode and tapped him so he knew she wanted him to stay like that, then she put him in “Follow” again.

She grinned at the rest of the household, “Watch.” Nodding in time with the swaying machine, she picked up the needle and dropped it exactly where she wanted.

She bowed to the Lu-ambulator and touched her fingertips to his pointed leg. The machine rocked back and forth, keeping time to the obvious beat. Calliope walked backwards. When she hit the two-foot limit for “Follow” mode, he walked after her. She led him in a small half-circle, and on the downbeat she reversed direction and stepped towards him.

When she hit the twelve-inch limit for getting out of the way of people in the kitchen, he backed away from her. He was a little harder to drive that way, but she still managed to herd him in a wobbly half-circle before she reversed and led him after her.

She laughed and spun around the machine at the very edge of its twelve-inch limit, touching a single finger to its total lack of a hand. “See?”

The General leaned towards Maggie and spoke out of the side of her mouth, “Magnificent, do you see what I mean when I warn you about emergent behaviour in complex systems?”

“I thought that was more like it turns evil and tries to kill you,” Maggie said.

Mordecai winced.

“Take notes,” the General said. “I will assist you in research and we will further our understanding.”

“Yeah, uh-huh,” Maggie said. She did not take notes.

“Dear, it’s wonderful!” Ann said, over Milo’s strangled protest.

She’s stressing him out! He doesn’t know what she wants him to do! Ann, make her quit!

Milo, by “stressing him out” you mean “she is putting an unanticipated strain on the gears and shifters by switching the machine rapidly from one mode to another?”

Well, yeah…

The machine can’t really be sad, Milo. Calliope can really be happy. She is. If she breaks it, you can fix it.

…Lucy likes it too.

Yes. I’m proud of you.

Milo listened to the sound of “Supersonic Rocket Ship” and clicking gears which probably only he could parse as unhappy. He liked “Supersonic Rocket Ship,” and he hadn’t heard it in a long time. They didn’t have that on his radio station he liked.

Maybe he likes making Calliope and Lucy happy, too, and it’s like how we like pretty shoes that hurt.

Go ahead and think of it like that, Milo.

“Ann, you too!” Calliope said. As the brass section kicked in, she snatched Ann by the hand and dragged her near.

Ann swept out her skirt and bowed politely, but nevertheless femininely. She stepped forward and helped Calliope grind down the gears of Milo’s wonderful machine. Calliope boxed it in from behind, further confusing it, and causing it to execute a rapid spin to avoid treading on her feet.

“Oh, even better!” Calliope said. “Erik! Maggie!”

Erik caught the machine by its extended leg, forcing it to compensate for balance by staggering around him. “Coconut, may I have this dance?” Erik said.

Lucy beamed at him. “Ee!”

Maggie tapped the machine and made it whirl around in an attempt to break through the crowd and follow her. “I guess it’s not like we were going to get a dog or anything,” she said.

“He’s… better!” Erik said.

The record finished, and the needle popped up.

Ann, Calliope and the kids all bowed to their audience. The Lu-ambulator continued to sway with its leg up, but with less difficulty. Ann took pity on it and switched it into “Stationary” mode, so it wouldn’t have to worry about what to do next. Positioned that way, it looked like a worshipper in one of those charismatic churches.

Maybe you can teach him what dancing is, Milo.

Maybe… Or the next one.

He loved this one and he did not want it to die, but he was excited about the next one too.

And seeing what Calliope would come up with to do with it.

Mordecai leaned in and nudged Hyacinth: “Is this actually happening, do we actually have a spider highchair that dances to stupid music, or have I been in some kind of mental institution for the last eight years of my life?”

“You don’t have to pick,” Hyacinth said. She put the Lu-ambulator back in “Follow,” tapped it and began leading it into the kitchen. “Come on, let’s see if Lucy eats noodles.”

“Four-month-old babies do not eat noodles!” cried Mordecai, running after them.