By E.J. LeRoy
Gabe Oliveira knew it was going to be a bad day when he got a call saying the assembly line robots at Sativa Industries were doing “The Charleston.”
He didn’t know what “The Charleston” was, but it sounded like a serious glitch. It sounded even more serious when Will told him “The Charleston” was a dance from nearly three hundred years ago. Gabe could envision factory robots stalling, twitching, and saying “error, error,” in a buzzing monotone. But robots engaging in an old, high-energy dance on the factory floor? Was that someone’s idea of a joke?
“It is not a joke,” Will said over the phone while Gabe picked the sleepers out of his eyes. Even when irritated, Will had that wonderfully musical Ugandan accent. “The entire factory floor is filled with high-kicking robots emitting ‘The Charleston’ on loop. How soon can you get here?”
Gabe stifled a grumble. “Will you at least give me a minute to put my pants on?”
“I’m sorry for calling you so early, but we need all the help we can get. The entire factory is at a standstill until this matter with the robots is resolved. So far, we haven’t been able to shut them down for a reboot.”
He tried not to yawn directly into the phone. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.” He hung up. The time on the phone read 5:28 a.m. As he trudged into the shower, he wondered why the tech department couldn’t have waited an hour or so to drag him out of bed. But Will and the rest of the early morning shift obviously needed backup, so he hurried along.
When he finished dressing, Nico was still undergoing his monthly charge. Gabe didn’t kiss him goodbye. He didn’t want to disturb him. On his way out the door, he grabbed one of his companion’s homemade blueberry muffins along with his Vitamin B12 supplement.
“Greetings, Gabe.” His car unlocked itself when it registered his fingerprints on the handle. Gabe grumbled as he shut the door behind himself. Even the sunrise couldn’t cheer him up. He would have preferred to miss it in favor of an extra hour of sleep. As he peeled the liner off of his muffin, he muttered some more.
“Sorry, I did not understand that,” the car said. “Please state your destination clearly.”
Of all the intelligent appliances in the world, cars were near the bottom of the list. For all their automated features, Gabe hadn’t encountered one yet that understood grousing or could engage in a halfway decent conversation. If the head of Sativa Industries weren’t so invested in the purely industrial side of hemp plastics and biodiesel fuel, Gabe could devote more company time toward the user-friendly, electronics end of the business rather than minutia and troubleshooting.
“Vegano Coffee,” Gabe said to his car.
“You said, ‘Vegano Coffee.’ Is that correct?”
“Yeah.” His response sounded more like a yawn. At least the dumb machine understood his confirmation. It backed out of the driveway. If Gabe weren’t trying to force down a muffin, he would put back the seat and try to catch a few more minutes of sleep. It wasn’t like he could take over driving in the event of a cinematic-style emergency. Unlike the old clunker his grandmother used to own, the Sativa Hustle 2200 didn’t have a steering wheel. The closest it had to a manual override was an interactive GPS map for re-routing. Hopefully, the car knew what it was doing for a change, so he wouldn’t have to use it.
Gabe yawned in between bites of muffin as the car drove along the highway. Without a cup of coffee in his system, he didn’t feel like talking. Not that his stupid company car had anything worth saying. It wasn’t programmed for conversation. That put it behind a lot of competitors. Sativa Industries never put top-notch AI at the forefront of their mission. That drove Gabe nuts, even though he recognized the benefits of the conglomerate’s ecological advancements. Thanks to Sativa Industries, hemp biodiesel powered the vast majority of American homes and transportation devices. Their consumer products—including apparel, paper, and cosmetics—had a presence in approximately 97% of American households. Sativa Industries also had a large international clientele in both the commercial and consumer divisions.
But at some point, they needed to improve their outdated AI technology. His car was a good case in point. It had a durable hemp body colored salsa red, a nice design, and great fuel efficiency. Unlike its competitors, however, the Sativa Hustle 2200 was completely devoid of personality or common sense. The other day, Gabe had to override the auto-map to avoid going three miles out of his way on what should have been a straightforward path. Having to repeat himself multiple times whenever he set a new destination didn’t improve his low opinion of his employer’s automotive division. Stupid stuff like that explained why less eco-friendly competitors were starting to attract otherwise conscientious customers. If Sativa Industries had allowed Gabe to address some of those fussy tech problems ages ago, they wouldn’t be losing clients. More importantly, he wouldn’t be responding to a call about glitchy robots dancing “The Charleston” before six in the morning.
“Wow, you’re out early today,” Imani said at the drive-thru. She believed good customer relations required greeting everyone at the window instead of making them shout their order into those little boxes.
Gabe held back yet another yawn. “I got an emergency call at work. All the factory floor robots are doing ‘The Charleston.’”
“‘The Charleston?’ Isn’t that some dance from the 1920s?”
“So I’ve been told. Whatever it is, the robots are doing it instead of working.”
Imani pulled her ponytail tighter. “Well, that’s one advantage of hiring humans.”
Gabe didn’t point out how Imani used plenty of robots in her business, even if they weren’t the intelligent kind. The entire coffee supply chain relied upon robot labor at multiple stages of production. But Imani had an official “ROBOT RIGHTS!” sticker on the drive-thru window, the one with a gear surrounding a fist punching up. So, he kept his mouth shut.
“So, what’ll it be, Gabe? The usual?”
“Sure.”
Imani cupped her hand over the small microphone on her side of the window. “One regular coffee with almond milk, no sugar.”
Gabe paid her with loose change. The tarnished silver made him wonder how long the coins had been sitting in his car.
“How’s Nico?” Imani asked while waiting for her employee to brew the coffee. There weren’t any other customers, giving them time to talk.
“He’s fine.” Gabe resisted joking that by “fine,” he meant he had him barefoot and chained to the kitchen stove. Imani wouldn’t take that well at all.
“Well, be sure to tell him I said, ‘hello.’”
Gabe kept chatting while in a mental fog. Imani finally served him the cup of coffee he needed. He thanked her and then ordered the car to take him to work. About a mile down the road, he told it to turn on the radio. Once the coffee awakened his senses, the car felt eerily quiet.
“Today, the Kingdom of Hawai’i is celebrating the 100th anniversary of the transfer of sovereignty from the United States of America back to its people,” the radio announcer said. “While several independence initiatives occurred before the official transfer date of June 1, 2100, it was not until-”
“Call from Will Akello,” the car phone said, interrupting the broadcast.
“Answer.” Gabe swallowed his Vitamin B12 supplement and chased it down with coffee.
Will Akello appeared on the car phone screen. With the caffeine kicking in, Gabe could enjoy the view. His coworker wore one of the company’s official hemp shirts emblazoned with their logo and motto, “Hemp is HOT.” Gabe thought Will was hot: tall, muscular, gorgeous dark skin. He slugged down some more coffee to distract himself.
“Where are you?” Will said.
“Taking a road trip to the Republic of Texas.” Gabe held up his coffee cup. “I stopped for a coffee. My car’s going the speed limit.”
“Gabe, we need you here as soon as possible. The robots’ malfunction is the result of deep, highly skilled hacking. The whole tech department’s working on it with no success. The only clue we’ve found is an embedded message in the coding that says ‘RUFF’ in all capital letters. R-U-F-F.”
“Like the sound a dog makes?”
“Apparently. Does that mean anything to you?”
“Not a thing.”
“Well, it’s all we have to go on right now. So far, no one has been able to shut down a single robot. They’re all still dancing and playing that song over and over. Nothing works! I even tried tapping them on the shoulder.”
“Why would you tap the robots on the shoulder?”
“Haven’t you seen those old movies where the judges go around tapping the dancers on the shoulder to make them leave the dance floor?”
“No, I’m afraid I’m too busy catching up on films from the last hundred years instead of the last three hundred.”
Will sighed. “I’ll be grateful when you get here, Gabe. Normally, I could handle it. But I don’t have time to reprogram virus-stricken robots today. I’m scheduled to welcome the summer term college interns this morning. Too bad the last group had to return to the University of Boyer to finish their studies. Maybe they would have figured out the problem by now.”
“I doubt that. Oh, great…”
“What happened?”
“There’s a huge traffic jam on Highway 18 near the Grand Ronde toll booth. What do you want to bet they’re having a computer malfunction too?”
“If something as large as a toll booth is doing ‘The Charleston,’ I might have to consider a new career. Either that, or start smoking some of the company’s products.”
Gabe smiled for the first time that day. “Don’t let the boss catch you saying that. I’ll be there as soon as I can. End call.”
The call disconnected. Gabe finished his coffee while he waited for the traffic to clear. A lot of commercials for robots and other electronics played on the radio. Gabe wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or pleased that one of the ads came from Sativa Industries.
“Welcome back to 970 AM, The Boyer Bray!” the announcer said. “It’s going to be a beautiful day in the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde and the surrounding area. Expect a sunny high of 72 degrees…”
Gabe leaned back in his seat while the announcer prattled about the weather. The traffic inched along. Several cars in front of him blocked his view of the toll booth.
“Our top story this morning, a coalition of robot rights activists have gathered in several major American cities in what they describe as ‘a cross-country act of solidarity for the benefit of our exploited robot brethren.’ News crews are waiting to record an official message from the organization, Robots United for-”
Gabe turned down the radio manually when Frank approached. The system malfunction must have been serious to require human intervention.
“Problem with the toll booth, Frank?” Gabe said.
“Yeah, we’ve got a technician coming out to fix it. The backup meter robots are down too. We think there’s been some kind of power surge.” Frank scribbled on a notepad. “Until we figure out the problem, I’m writing down tolls the old-fashioned way. Anyway, how have you been?”
“Fine, until a coworker called me early this morning because our company robots are doing ‘The Charleston.’”
Frank looked up from his notepad, wide-eyed. “‘The Charleston?’ You mean that old dance from the 1920s?”
“Yeah, that one.”
Frank tore off a notepad sheet and handed it to Gabe. “That’s your copy. Sit tight. I have to make one for the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde, too. Your company still pays for employee tolls, right?”
“Right.”
“Lucky you. The Tribal Council voted in favor of raising the privilege of foreign passage fee starting next month.”
“Oh, are they going to give you a raise or put it into graft?”
Frank laughed as he pocketed the second sheet of notepaper. “If I get a raise, it is going into graft.” Gabe returned his smile. “Okay, you’re good to go. Say ‘hi’ to Nico for me.”
“I will. See you, Frank.”
The traffic moved slightly faster than a turtle.
“Call from Nico Oliveira,” the car phone said.
“Answer.”
The word “Connected” appeared on the car phone instead of Nico’s face. He must have been using his cellphone rather than the kitchen wall screen or the living room television. It was just as well. Gabe figured he looked punched out from a lack of sufficient sleep combined with strong caffeine from the coffee.
“Hi, honey,” Gabe said.
“I missed you this morning,” Nico said. “You must have left early while I was on the charger.”
“Yeah, I was in a hurry. There’s some robot emergency over at the factory, but I’ve been stuck in traffic. Apparently, they’re all doing ‘The Charleston.’”
“‘The Charleston?’ You mean that dance from the 1920s?”
“Does everybody know about this dance except me?”
“I don’t suppose they’ve heard about it in Antarctica.”
“I’ll get you for that one.”
“In your dreams.”
“Right.” Gabe smiled. “So, what else is on your mind?”
“I called because you forgot your lunch.”
“Great, more good news.” He rubbed a knot out of his shoulder and groaned. “Just what I needed.”
“Do you want me to bring it to you?”
“What are you going to do, walk almost seven miles to deliver it?”
“If you want me to.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get something in the cafeteria.”
“Do they have vegan food?”
“I’m sure I’ll find something. Say, while I’ve got you on the phone, let me ask you something. Will said the computer virus had an embedded message. It said, ‘RUFF.’ That’s R-U-F-F. Have any idea what that might mean?”
“Ruff? Like the sound a dog makes?”
“That’s what I thought. But does it have some computer or robot meaning?”
“Not that I know of.”
Gabe shrugged. “Well, it didn’t hurt to ask. Without any leads, I think I’ll be spending all day trying to figure out what ‘RUFF’ means and how it ties into this Charleston business.”
“I don’t think ‘RUFF’ is an electronic term, but I’ll let you know if I find out anything.”
“Thanks. Hey, the traffic finally cleared.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah, unfortunately, I might make it to work before Doomsday. So, what are your plans for today?”
“Since I completed my monthly charge, I thought I’d rub my whole body with mineral oil and then powder it.”
“Sounds sexy.”
“It’s routine maintenance.”
“Sure it is.”
“It is if you don’t want my skin to get sticky or tear.”
“All right, if you say so. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later. End call.”
Gabe barely had a chance to park when Will shoved one of the company’s emergency robot deactivators into his hand. It looked like a chunky cellphone.
“No progress, and the students are here early,” Will said.
“You take care of the students, and I’ll take care of this.” Gabe scrolled through the data log. Will had been trying to deactivate the robots since arriving at work.
They parted to handle their respective tasks. After four tedious, fruitless hours collaborating with the rest of the tech department, Gabe had no choice but to take the deactivator onto the factory floor. Pointing the device at a robot’s head at close range didn’t make it stop dancing. No way it would have been that easy. He needed to work around the virus somehow.
His phone rang. Gabe balanced it between his shoulder and ear while trying to avoid the robot’s kicking. “Honey, I’m a little busy right now.”
“I think I might have a lead on RUFF.”
“Yeah?” Gabe tried to work one-handed, no easy task with a robot clapping and dancing around him in a circle.
“I’ve been getting phone calls all morning from some organization called ‘Robots United for Freedom.’ Their acronym is R-U-F-F. Possible match?”
“Maybe… Come back here!” It didn’t do any good to scold the dancing robot. Even if it had autonomous programming that allowed for intelligent two-way communication, those components would be overridden by the virus.
“That man from Robots United for Freedom called me four times. The first two times, I hung up. The third time, I decided to listen. You know what he said?”
“What?”
“He said that I need to consider committing nonviolent acts of sabotage to establish my independence. Go on strike, that sort of thing. I said, ‘Why would I do that?’ And he said, ‘Nonviolent acts of defiance would demonstrate your existence as an independent agent rather than a toy for humans’ amusement.’ ‘I’m not a toy,’ I told him. ‘I’m a companion robot and synthetic househusband, thank you.’ Then he spewed a bunch of crap about how you’re an oppressor of the worst kind.”
“Thanks for the tip. I’ll run the organization name by the tech department. They might be behind the virus.” Gabe tried to hang up, but Nico kept talking.
“I hung up on the guy, but he called back. He kept insisting that I’m in need of liberation. And I told him, ‘Liberation from what? Being married?’”
“Honey, thanks for the info. But I’m trying to-”
“‘Well,’ he said, ‘you’re not really married because that’s against the law.’ ‘What’s that to you?’ I asked. ‘Why do you get to decide that a commitment ceremony in Las Vegas is less valid than an official marriage license?’ So, he said, ‘That’s my point. You’re not free to enter a legal marriage because, according to the law, you’re no different from a toaster.’ Can you believe that, Gabe? This self-righteous creep insisted that I’m an autonomous, enslaved being in need of liberation from you, and yet he didn’t think anything of comparing me to a toaster.”
“Nico, please, I have to-”
“And on top of all that, he said that robots of all types are compatriots in the struggle for universal liberation. Can you believe that? That guy thinks an unintelligent assembly line robot is equal to me? Compatriots, my foot…”
“Ow!” Gabe hopped around holding his ankle. He hissed from the blow.
“What happened?”
“One of your compatriots just kicked me in the shin.” Gabe narrowly dodged another kick. “Listen, I’ve got to go. But the next time these robot liberation people call, just hang up on them, okay? They don’t need to know our whole life story.”
“All right, but I don’t think he’ll call back. When he asked me what I was going to do for the cause, I told him I was going to serve you a nice dinner and then give you a good lay because that’s what hardworking husbands deserve after a stressful day of work.”
Gabe unleashed something between a groan and a sigh. “I’ll call you at lunch.” He hung up and forwarded the information about RUFF to the rest of his team. Unfortunately, it was a dead end. Robots United for Freedom was a grassroots movement that didn’t have the capability to pull off something like this. Their members, although vocal, weren’t exactly tech-savvy. The hacker probably wrote “RUFF” as a frame-up.
He finally got the deactivator to work. One by one, he shut down the robots. But he couldn’t reboot them until he removed the virus. Otherwise, they would start dancing again. He and the rest of the tech department worked on the problem until the boss forced everyone to take a lunch break. At least the kitchen robots weren’t infected.
“The Charleston” replayed in his brain in the cafeteria line. He tried to block it out as he ordered a whole vegan pizza. A serving robot put an ingredient card on his tray even though he didn’t want it. Gabe dealt with enough uncooperative robots in one day to argue. He found a seat at an empty table and called Nico.
“Hey, honey.” Gabe put his phone on speaker.
“Are you mad at me for talking back to the representative at RUFF?” Nico sounded contrite.
“Maybe a smidge.”
“Honestly, who says ‘smidge’ anymore?”
“I just did.” He ate a bite of pizza during the comfortable pause.
“Well, I suppose I can forgive you for using unfashionable words if you can forgive me for being a loudmouth.”
A warm glow spread under Gabe’s skin, forcing him to grin. “All right, I forgive you. Happy now?”
“Happy enough. Having lunch?”
“Yeah, you don’t have to worry about me starving. I’m eating a pizza topped with tomato sauce, cashew mozzarella, and broccoli. It’s pretty good.”
“Is it fortified?”
Gabe looked at the ingredient card. “Yeah, it’s fortified.”
“Good. How do you feel about coconut potato soup for dinner?”
“I’m looking forward to it already.” He had another bite of pizza while thinking about rich, creamy homemade soup. Nothing compared to Nico’s cooking. “Do you need me to pick up anything on the way home?”
“Now that you mention it, I could use a bottle of TPE glue. My nipples are falling off.”
Gabe scrambled to pick up the phone and turn off the speaker. “Geez, Nico, I’m at work.”
“Were you using the speaker?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Yeah, well, just save all the dirty details for when I get home. You need anything else?”
“No, that’s all. Thanks. I’ll have your dinner ready when you come home. Are you still on speaker?”
“Not with your big mouth.”
“You might be sorry you said that. Because if you behave yourself, I’ll give you an extra special dessert. Know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Will approached with a cafeteria tray. Gabe noticed he had ordered the same pizza he had. “I’ve got to go. Bye.” Gabe cleaned off his sticky phone with a napkin as Will sat beside him. “Any luck resetting the robots?”
“Not yet,” Will said. “At least they haven’t started dancing again. But I think that song is going to be stuck in my head for a week.”
“Tell me about it.”
They ate in silence for a while.
“Those college students today…” Will grimaced. “We might as well have recruited a fraternity. They thought it was hysterical to watch a bunch of robots make fools out of the entire tech department. If I didn’t know better, I would think one of them planned it, just for laughs.”
“I doubt they’d have the time or know-how to do something that complicated. They just started the robotics program this week, right?”
“Yes, but some of those smart high school students with a middle school sense of humor wouldn’t be beyond doing something like this.”
“I’m still not buying it. Sativa Industries doesn’t have the best security system in the world, but hacking it would require intimate knowledge of the programming. It would take weeks of in-person training just to figure out the basics.”
Gabe and Will’s eyes locked onto each other at the same instant.
“Last term’s college interns!” they said simultaneously.
“It has to be one of them.” Gabe jumped up from his seat, tray in hand. “I’ll call the academic dean.”
“Her name’s Dr. Tanaka. Good luck.”
Gabe made the call.
“Yes, I’m afraid we’ve had trouble with some of our tech students pulling pranks in the past,” Dr. Tanaka said after Gabe explained the situation.
“This is more than a prank,” Gabe said, trying not to explode. “We’re talking about industrial sabotage, an actual crime.”
“Mr. Oliveira, I understand your concerns. Unfortunately, acts of this nature have become somewhat of a rite of passage. But, based on your descriptions, I have a good idea about which two students are involved. Please be assured we will investigate the matter and take appropriate action.”
“You mean you’ll expel the little felons?”
“Oh, no. We follow a restorative justice model for handling student misconduct. Following an assessment, our board will determine the best method for discouraging future transgressions.”
“Like what, for example?” Gabe thought administering a caning, like in the good old days of Singapore, might be an appropriate start.
“It depends upon the individual circumstances, but the board might decide to order the guilty parties to switch their major to tech security. After that, perhaps they could improve your systems at Sativa Industries to prevent future cyberattacks. At least then, they could put their skills to good use.”
Gabe thought a vein in his neck would burst. “You mean to tell me, you’re going to punish industrial saboteurs by steering them into a lucrative tech security major, and then let them work at the company they tried to destroy today?” He left off the obvious conclusion of, “Are you crazy?”
“That is certainly a possibility. Naturally, we would have to meet with the board of directors at Sativa Industries as well.”
“What about the financial loss and employee aggravation caused by this stunt? Am I supposed to feel restored by having the culprits wind up as my coworkers?”
“We will certainly do what we can to compensate Sativa Industries and all affected employees for the loss of productivity caused by the prank. As for the students responsible, would it really be so terrible to make them contributing members of society? After all, a number of security firms hire former burglars to improve their systems. Would you rather have all these people rotting in prison like in the old days?”
“Would you be angry if I answered, ‘yes?’”
“Now, Mr. Oliveira. I completely understand why you’re so upset.”
“With all respect, Dr. Tanaka, you don’t know the half of it.” Gabe thought it would sound whiny to complain about being dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour, so he stuck to a single point. “One of those Charleston-dancing robots kicked me in the shin while I tried to shut it down. That’s clearly assault. If you want, I can show you the bruise.”
“Well, if it’s just a bruise…”
“It’s not just a bruise, Dr. Tanaka. That assembly line robot could have broken my leg. Fortunately, its sensors weren’t completely overridden, so that didn’t happen. But it could have if all the safety features were removed.”
“But they weren’t removed, correct?”
“No, they weren’t. But that doesn’t excuse the assault. That’s like a mugger saying, ‘Your Honor, it’s true I kicked my victim in the shin, but I didn’t break his leg, so we’re cool, right?’”
“We will definitely take your testimony into consideration at the board hearing. But as we are just starting our investigation, I cannot give you a timeframe for when that will occur. Rest assured, we will keep you posted. Thank you for calling.” She hung up.
Gabe spent the rest of the workday restarting the robots. Will’s shift ended earlier than his, but he stayed overtime to help. He probably would have stayed longer if the boss didn’t make him leave. Sativa Industries didn’t want to have a bad record with the labor department. Even so, Gabe stayed an hour past his shift. The boss would have made him leave, too, but he and the team got the robots working again just in time.
On the way home, Gabe ordered his car to lower its convertible top. He lay back to enjoy the pleasant evening weather and clean air. The radio played songs he didn’t know. As long as none of them were “The Charleston,” he didn’t care. There was no charge to leave the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde, but he stopped at the toll booth anyway to talk to Frank. Everything worked again. The toll booth glitch was unrelated to the incident at Sativa Industries.
It wasn’t until his car pulled into the driveway that Gabe remembered he was supposed to go to the hardware store. He felt stupid as he let himself into the house. Forgetting to buy TPE glue was just one more disappointing episode of a bad workday.
Nico greeted him in the entryway with a hug and a kiss. “Hi, honey.”
Gabe rubbed his back. Covered with a sweatshirt, he felt indistinguishable from a human. “Hi, Nico. I forgot to go to the hardware store like you wanted. You still love me?”
“Of course, I still love you.” He kissed him again. Then he steered him toward the kitchen. “I had a feeling you’d be running late, so I kept your food warm.”
Gabe sat at the kitchen table. He rubbed his forehead like it could prevent a headache.
“I’d ask you if you had a good day at work,” Nico said as he served dinner, “but I know you didn’t.”
Gabe couldn’t help laughing through his nose.
“What’s so funny?”
“You are, Nico. Have a seat.”
Nico sat across from him. He always joined Gabe for dinner, even though he couldn’t partake in the meal beyond preparing it.
“Did you solve the problem with the robots?” Nico asked.
“Yep. They won’t be dancing ‘The Charleston’ anymore. But if there’s any real restorative justice, they’ll make the college students who did it dance until they get blisters.” Gabe told him about his phone call with Dr. Tanaka and how disgustingly lenient the University of Boyer’s policies were toward reprobates.
He drank some soup. It warmed his insides as only homemade food could. “It’s delicious, the first good thing to happen to me today.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, Imani and Frank wanted me to say ‘hello’ to you, so ‘hello.’ I’m never letting them try your cooking, though, or they’ll steal you.”
“You flatter me.”
“All of it well-deserved. Only an idiot wouldn’t like you.”
“That guy from RUFF didn’t like me, but the feeling’s mutual. Imagine comparing me to a toaster.” Nico rested his chin on his folded hands and smirked. He brushed his foot against Gabe’s leg. “I can’t wait to prove him wrong.”
And Gabe had no doubt he would.
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