Robot Rodney 15
Here's the almost-end to the Robot Rodney story. I'm anticipating an epilogue, then I'll be posting a cleaned-up version and advertising on the comms. Whee!
Speaking of, thanks to Wih for un-sticking me and for providing Madison's Question.
“Don’t worry,” Rodney said. “The Asgard beaming technology is very safe. It won’t hurt a bit.” Kepler, crouched inside a soft-sided pet carrier, didn’t let up his meowing. “And as soon as we’re at Jeannie’s, you can get out of the bag.”
“You could have given him a tranquilizer,” Sheppard suggested, lounging against the wall by the pile of their luggage.
“We tried that when we went to Siberia,” Rodney said, peering through the mesh window at Kepler. “And we didn’t like it one bit, did we?” Fifteen hours on a military transport with a pissed-off cat on his lap. The rest of the personnel on the flight hadn’t been too happy, either.
“Bad trip?” John asked.
“Some cats have an opposite reaction to tranquilizers. It turns out Kepler is one of them.”
“That must have been fun.”
“You have no idea.” Rodney was a little surprised he’d managed to talk Sheppard into coming to Jeannie’s with him. He’d been pretty sure that the other plans the Colonel had alluded to were just a polite fiction, but when pressed on the issue he’d eventually admitted that they had fallen through, and then he’d been surprisingly easy to bring around.
Straightening up, he kept one hand on the cat bag to reassure Kepler. “You know if you’re leaning on that wall when we beam up, you’ll fall on your ass.”
“Will not,” said Sheppard. “I’ll fall on my side. Anyway, we have another couple minutes before it’s time.”
The SGC had agreed, eventually, to let them use the Prometheus transporters to get to Chicago, after Rodney had provided a lengthy memo detailing all the ways conventional travel would be difficult for a one-armed man with a cranky, able-bodied cat. He was sure that he could have managed-especially with Sheppard along to do the heavy lifting-but he really felt that since they refused to let Kepler come to Atlantis, the least they could do was spare him the trauma of flying to his new home stuffed under an airplane seat.
If his new home worked out. He was pretty dubious about spending a week at Jeannie’s, but staying with her was the perfect solution for Kepler’s problem, and Rodney couldn’t send him there without checking it out first.
Personally, he was hoping for an emergency that would have the SCG hauling them back to the base after a day or two. Nothing lethal-he wasn’t quite crass enough to wish someone dead just so he could get out of an uncomfortable situation-but maybe something that could turn lethal without his intervention.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t count on a crisis turning up when he wanted one. That was where Sheppard came in. If things got too awkward, he’d just claim they had plans to go somewhere. He’d even made a list of attractions and events so that no matter the time of day or night, he would have a completely plausible alibi. “So, um, thanks for coming along and everything.”
“No problem,” Sheppard said. “I like Jeannie.”
Now there was an ominous statement if he’d ever heard one. “Don’t go making time on my sister-she’s not one of your space-chippies. She’s a married woman. Also, my sister!”
“‘Space-chippies’?” Sheppard shook his head. “I just meant she seems like a nice person. You don’t have to turn everything dirty.”
“I’m the one who turns everything dirty?” Rodney squawked, or started to. The transporter beam engulfed them mid-sentence, so that he said, “I’m the one,” in Colorado, “turns” in the transporter bay of the Prometheus and “dirty” on the front stoop of Jeannie’s house outside Chicago. Without waiting for Sheppard to answer, he bent down to check on Kepler. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it? Now we’re here, and we’ll go inside and get you all set up.”
When Jeannie answered the door, the first thing Rodney did was make her show him where his and Kepler’s room was, so he could let Kepler out of the carrier.
“Right,” she said. “John, you know where the guest room is, upstairs. Rodney, you’re in the den. It’s actually Kaleb’s office, but there’s a futon, and he’s moved out everything he thinks he’ll want this week, so you can have privacy. Unless you want to share?”
“Why does he get the good room?” Rodney demanded. Maybe because he didn’t actually, you know, sleep, but still. And sharing was just-no. He may have shared plenty of mud huts, tents, caves, and other primitive dwellings with John and the rest of the team, but it wasn’t an experience he was particularly keen on.
“Because he’s the guest. You’re family.”
“Oh. Well, okay.”
Sheppard and Jeannie helped him carry his and Kepler’s stuff to the den-well, they carried the stuff, while he carried Kepler. Once they were in there, he sat on the futon and let Kepler out. Kepler, complaining loudly, crawled up onto his chest to sit nose-to-nose with him. “I know,” Rodney said. “You had to sit in the box for almost an hour. You want to report me to the SPCA? There’s the phone.” Kepler rubbed his jaw against Rodney’s. “Can you fill up his water dish?” he asked Sheppard. “It’s the blue one. He’s always thirsty after a trip.”
“Your wish is my command,” Sheppard said, picking up the water dish. Turning to Jeannie, he added, “Uh….”
“The bathroom’s just down the hall-wait, I’ll show you.”
“But I need you to set up his litter box,” Rodney objected.
Finally, they had all of Kepler’s things arranged, and Jeannie took Sheppard off to show him to the guest room. Kepler explored the room warily, sniffing delicately at various objects and scent-marking others, according to a system Rodney had never quite managed to figure out. Kepler had just settled down at his bowl of crunchies when suddenly he froze, looking saucer-eyed at the door. A fraction of a second later, Rodney heard running feet, and then the door burst open and a small girl dashed into the room. “Daddy, look at my--” She stopped short, staring at him, as the tip of Kepler’s tail disappeared under the futon.
“Hi,” Rodney said. All available evidence suggested that the girl was Madison-his niece, sort of-but he couldn’t think of a thing to say to her except to point out that butterflies didn’t have lips. Remembering John’s reaction to that observation, he decided it would be better not to say anything at all.
“Hi,” Madison said back.
They stared at each other for a few moments, until Rodney heard Jeannie coming back down the hall. “Maddy, didn’t I tell you your uncle was staying in this room now? What did I tell you about knocking?”
“I forgot,” Madison said. “He’s Uncle Mer?”
“Uncle Rodney,” Jeannie said.
“How come he used to be Uncle Mer but now he’s Uncle Rodney?”
“I changed my name,” Rodney answered.
Madison looked up at her mother. “Can I change my name?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Only grownups can change their names,” Jeannie said. “I’m sorry, Rodney, is she bothering you?”
“No,” Rodney said. “But she scared Kepler.”
“Is Kepler the kittycat?” Madison whispered-or at least, somehow managed to convey the impression of whispering while actually speaking no more softly than her normal voice.
“Yes, but don’t pounce on him. He’ll come out to meet us when he feels comfortable.” Jeannie began guiding Madison toward the door. “Let’s go make a snack-Rodney, do you want to join us?”
“In a few minutes,” he answered.
Once he’d determined that Kepler was OK, but felt that he’d like to stay under the futon for a while, Rodney sought out the kitchen. Jeannie, Madison, and Sheppard were all munching on toast slathered in peanut butter. When he took a seat, Madison gave him a slice, saying, “Look, we put hearts on like in the commercial.”
“You sure did,” Rodney agreed inanely.
Jeannie and John seemed to be having an animated conversation about-of all things-Proust. Rodney stayed out of it, concentrating on eating his toast. But he couldn’t help but notice that Madison kept looking at him when she thought he wasn’t looking, in a way that only a five-year-old would mistake for subtle. “What?” he finally demanded.
“Are you a pirate?” she asked.
Sheppard, the bastard, snickered.
“No,” he said. “Why would you think I was a pirate?”
“Because you only have one arm. Lots of pirates had missing arms or legs. Because of gan-ger-ine.”
“Gangrene,” Rodney corrected absently. “I’m not a pirate. I’m an astrophysicist.”
“What’s that?”
Before Rodney could explain, John said, “He’s a really cool scientist. Like Indiana Jones.”
“Who’s Indiana Jones?” Madison wanted to know.
Rodney kicked him in the shin. “I am not like Indiana Jones. He’s an archeologist. And not a very competent one, either.”
“Archeologist is the dinosaur bones one?” Madison said uncertainly.
“That’s a paleontologist. An archeologist studies the remains of ancient civilizations. How the bullwhip is involved in that, we’ll never know,” he added. “Astrophysicists study-“ Realizing that most of what he was about to say would go straight over Madison’s head, he finished lamely, “stars.”
“Oh!” Madison said. “I have to show you my telescope!” She jumped down from her chair and ran away.
“She has a telescope?”
“A toy one,” Jeannie explained. “We’ve never been able to actually see anything with it.”
“Not even Venus?” Rodney was appalled. “You know how to find Venus-remember that time Dr. Ingram took us up on the roof of the building where they do the freshman astronomy labs?”
“I remember it was freezing and I really had to pee.” Jeannie shrugged.
“Is it supposed to be clear tonight? We’ll have to take her out and see what we can find--”
“It doesn’t get dark until almost her bedtime, and she has school tomorrow. You can take her out to look at stars Friday or Saturday night.”
“Venus is a planet,” Rodney pointed out. “You do remember that, don’t you?”
Jeannie rolled her eyes. “Yes, Rodney.”
“Okay. Friday or Saturday. Well, that gives me time to find a decent telescope.”
#
“Finding Venus?” John asked. Unable to sleep, he had tracked Rodney down to the Millers’ back deck, where he was bent over Madison’s red and yellow plastic telescope.
Straightening, Rodney said, “This thing’s a piece of shit.”
“Yeah, I don’t think Fisher-Price makes a high quality viewing instrument.”
Rodney shrugged. “Anyway, Venus has set. I could show you Saturn, though.” He aimed the telescope at the sky and focused, then gestured toward the eyepiece.
Looking through it, John saw a whitish-yellow blur. “That’s supposed to be Saturn?”
“It is Saturn. I just can’t get it in focus.”
“Saturn is pretty pointless if you can’t even see the rings.”
“Have to get her a better one,” Rodney agreed, dropping into a patio chair. “The planetarium gift shop might have something.”
“So you’re….” John trailed off.
“What?”
“Okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Rodney glanced down at the stump of his arm, tucking his sleeve in around it.
John shrugged.
“I’m going back, if that’s what you mean,” Rodney added.
That hadn’t been quite what John had been thinking, but since he didn’t know what he did mean, exactly, he didn’t interrupt.
“I mean, this is fine for a vacation--” He gestured at the toy telescope, “but I’m not going to win my Nobel prize here.” As quickly as he’d sat down, Rodney jumped up again. Wheeling the small telescope on its tripod, he aimed it at a different section of the sky and looked through the eyepiece. After making a few small adjustments, he said, “There-that’s Pegasus.”
Taking his turn at the eyepiece, John saw a patch of sky that looked no different from any other. Still, he looked for longer than he had at the blurry sphere that was Saturn.
#
Rodney bent to put the balloon string carefully in Madison’s hand. “Now, if you let go of it--”
“It’ll fall up,” Jeannie added.
“And Daddy won’t buy me another one,” Madison finished, with a sigh. “I know. You say that every time.”
“You do?” Rodney asked, sounding more surprised about it than seemed reasonable to John.
She glanced over at him. “Uh-huh.”
While Rodney and Madison walked ahead of them, Rodney explaining exactly why balloons fell up, Jeannie explained, “Famous family story. When we were kids, we were at this carnival, fun-fair thing. Dad and Rodney had been there for a while, I guess-it was on campus. There were balloons, and when I got mine, Mer-Rodney-said, ‘if you let go of it, it’ll fall up, and Dr. Ingram won’t buy you another one.’” She pronounced “Dr. Ingram” the same way Rodney had when he’d first woken up in the lab-Doctor ring-gram. “It was funny, for some reason. Dad repeated it pretty much any time he saw a balloon, and we picked it up with Maddy.”
“Dr. Ingram and Greta thought it was funny because I’d already lost about six balloons,” Rodney explained, turning half around. “I was conducting a series of experiments,” he added seriously. “I was very interested in gravity that year.”
“You were two!” Jeannie protested.
“Yes, and I was interested in gravity,” Rodney repeated. “I thought I had it pretty much figured out, but then I let go of the balloon-the first one was an accident-and when it didn’t do what I expected it to, I was pretty freaked out.”
“So Dad got you another one, and--”
“Well, of course I had to find out if it was going to behave the same way.”
“Of course,” Jeannie agreed. “How much progress did you make by the time Dad de-funded the project?”
“Not much. I hadn’t learned about atomic weights yet, so I’d pretty much hit a wall by balloon six anyway.” He added thoughtfully, “I was still pretty pissed when you let go of yours and got another one right away.”
“Of course you were.”
“Well, it wasn’t fair.”
“I got two balloons, you got six. How is that not fair?”
Listening to them bicker, John wondered how Rodney had ever thought that Jeannie wasn’t really his sister.
Speaking of, thanks to Wih for un-sticking me and for providing Madison's Question.
“Don’t worry,” Rodney said. “The Asgard beaming technology is very safe. It won’t hurt a bit.” Kepler, crouched inside a soft-sided pet carrier, didn’t let up his meowing. “And as soon as we’re at Jeannie’s, you can get out of the bag.”
“You could have given him a tranquilizer,” Sheppard suggested, lounging against the wall by the pile of their luggage.
“We tried that when we went to Siberia,” Rodney said, peering through the mesh window at Kepler. “And we didn’t like it one bit, did we?” Fifteen hours on a military transport with a pissed-off cat on his lap. The rest of the personnel on the flight hadn’t been too happy, either.
“Bad trip?” John asked.
“Some cats have an opposite reaction to tranquilizers. It turns out Kepler is one of them.”
“That must have been fun.”
“You have no idea.” Rodney was a little surprised he’d managed to talk Sheppard into coming to Jeannie’s with him. He’d been pretty sure that the other plans the Colonel had alluded to were just a polite fiction, but when pressed on the issue he’d eventually admitted that they had fallen through, and then he’d been surprisingly easy to bring around.
Straightening up, he kept one hand on the cat bag to reassure Kepler. “You know if you’re leaning on that wall when we beam up, you’ll fall on your ass.”
“Will not,” said Sheppard. “I’ll fall on my side. Anyway, we have another couple minutes before it’s time.”
The SGC had agreed, eventually, to let them use the Prometheus transporters to get to Chicago, after Rodney had provided a lengthy memo detailing all the ways conventional travel would be difficult for a one-armed man with a cranky, able-bodied cat. He was sure that he could have managed-especially with Sheppard along to do the heavy lifting-but he really felt that since they refused to let Kepler come to Atlantis, the least they could do was spare him the trauma of flying to his new home stuffed under an airplane seat.
If his new home worked out. He was pretty dubious about spending a week at Jeannie’s, but staying with her was the perfect solution for Kepler’s problem, and Rodney couldn’t send him there without checking it out first.
Personally, he was hoping for an emergency that would have the SCG hauling them back to the base after a day or two. Nothing lethal-he wasn’t quite crass enough to wish someone dead just so he could get out of an uncomfortable situation-but maybe something that could turn lethal without his intervention.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t count on a crisis turning up when he wanted one. That was where Sheppard came in. If things got too awkward, he’d just claim they had plans to go somewhere. He’d even made a list of attractions and events so that no matter the time of day or night, he would have a completely plausible alibi. “So, um, thanks for coming along and everything.”
“No problem,” Sheppard said. “I like Jeannie.”
Now there was an ominous statement if he’d ever heard one. “Don’t go making time on my sister-she’s not one of your space-chippies. She’s a married woman. Also, my sister!”
“‘Space-chippies’?” Sheppard shook his head. “I just meant she seems like a nice person. You don’t have to turn everything dirty.”
“I’m the one who turns everything dirty?” Rodney squawked, or started to. The transporter beam engulfed them mid-sentence, so that he said, “I’m the one,” in Colorado, “turns” in the transporter bay of the Prometheus and “dirty” on the front stoop of Jeannie’s house outside Chicago. Without waiting for Sheppard to answer, he bent down to check on Kepler. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it? Now we’re here, and we’ll go inside and get you all set up.”
When Jeannie answered the door, the first thing Rodney did was make her show him where his and Kepler’s room was, so he could let Kepler out of the carrier.
“Right,” she said. “John, you know where the guest room is, upstairs. Rodney, you’re in the den. It’s actually Kaleb’s office, but there’s a futon, and he’s moved out everything he thinks he’ll want this week, so you can have privacy. Unless you want to share?”
“Why does he get the good room?” Rodney demanded. Maybe because he didn’t actually, you know, sleep, but still. And sharing was just-no. He may have shared plenty of mud huts, tents, caves, and other primitive dwellings with John and the rest of the team, but it wasn’t an experience he was particularly keen on.
“Because he’s the guest. You’re family.”
“Oh. Well, okay.”
Sheppard and Jeannie helped him carry his and Kepler’s stuff to the den-well, they carried the stuff, while he carried Kepler. Once they were in there, he sat on the futon and let Kepler out. Kepler, complaining loudly, crawled up onto his chest to sit nose-to-nose with him. “I know,” Rodney said. “You had to sit in the box for almost an hour. You want to report me to the SPCA? There’s the phone.” Kepler rubbed his jaw against Rodney’s. “Can you fill up his water dish?” he asked Sheppard. “It’s the blue one. He’s always thirsty after a trip.”
“Your wish is my command,” Sheppard said, picking up the water dish. Turning to Jeannie, he added, “Uh….”
“The bathroom’s just down the hall-wait, I’ll show you.”
“But I need you to set up his litter box,” Rodney objected.
Finally, they had all of Kepler’s things arranged, and Jeannie took Sheppard off to show him to the guest room. Kepler explored the room warily, sniffing delicately at various objects and scent-marking others, according to a system Rodney had never quite managed to figure out. Kepler had just settled down at his bowl of crunchies when suddenly he froze, looking saucer-eyed at the door. A fraction of a second later, Rodney heard running feet, and then the door burst open and a small girl dashed into the room. “Daddy, look at my--” She stopped short, staring at him, as the tip of Kepler’s tail disappeared under the futon.
“Hi,” Rodney said. All available evidence suggested that the girl was Madison-his niece, sort of-but he couldn’t think of a thing to say to her except to point out that butterflies didn’t have lips. Remembering John’s reaction to that observation, he decided it would be better not to say anything at all.
“Hi,” Madison said back.
They stared at each other for a few moments, until Rodney heard Jeannie coming back down the hall. “Maddy, didn’t I tell you your uncle was staying in this room now? What did I tell you about knocking?”
“I forgot,” Madison said. “He’s Uncle Mer?”
“Uncle Rodney,” Jeannie said.
“How come he used to be Uncle Mer but now he’s Uncle Rodney?”
“I changed my name,” Rodney answered.
Madison looked up at her mother. “Can I change my name?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Only grownups can change their names,” Jeannie said. “I’m sorry, Rodney, is she bothering you?”
“No,” Rodney said. “But she scared Kepler.”
“Is Kepler the kittycat?” Madison whispered-or at least, somehow managed to convey the impression of whispering while actually speaking no more softly than her normal voice.
“Yes, but don’t pounce on him. He’ll come out to meet us when he feels comfortable.” Jeannie began guiding Madison toward the door. “Let’s go make a snack-Rodney, do you want to join us?”
“In a few minutes,” he answered.
Once he’d determined that Kepler was OK, but felt that he’d like to stay under the futon for a while, Rodney sought out the kitchen. Jeannie, Madison, and Sheppard were all munching on toast slathered in peanut butter. When he took a seat, Madison gave him a slice, saying, “Look, we put hearts on like in the commercial.”
“You sure did,” Rodney agreed inanely.
Jeannie and John seemed to be having an animated conversation about-of all things-Proust. Rodney stayed out of it, concentrating on eating his toast. But he couldn’t help but notice that Madison kept looking at him when she thought he wasn’t looking, in a way that only a five-year-old would mistake for subtle. “What?” he finally demanded.
“Are you a pirate?” she asked.
Sheppard, the bastard, snickered.
“No,” he said. “Why would you think I was a pirate?”
“Because you only have one arm. Lots of pirates had missing arms or legs. Because of gan-ger-ine.”
“Gangrene,” Rodney corrected absently. “I’m not a pirate. I’m an astrophysicist.”
“What’s that?”
Before Rodney could explain, John said, “He’s a really cool scientist. Like Indiana Jones.”
“Who’s Indiana Jones?” Madison wanted to know.
Rodney kicked him in the shin. “I am not like Indiana Jones. He’s an archeologist. And not a very competent one, either.”
“Archeologist is the dinosaur bones one?” Madison said uncertainly.
“That’s a paleontologist. An archeologist studies the remains of ancient civilizations. How the bullwhip is involved in that, we’ll never know,” he added. “Astrophysicists study-“ Realizing that most of what he was about to say would go straight over Madison’s head, he finished lamely, “stars.”
“Oh!” Madison said. “I have to show you my telescope!” She jumped down from her chair and ran away.
“She has a telescope?”
“A toy one,” Jeannie explained. “We’ve never been able to actually see anything with it.”
“Not even Venus?” Rodney was appalled. “You know how to find Venus-remember that time Dr. Ingram took us up on the roof of the building where they do the freshman astronomy labs?”
“I remember it was freezing and I really had to pee.” Jeannie shrugged.
“Is it supposed to be clear tonight? We’ll have to take her out and see what we can find--”
“It doesn’t get dark until almost her bedtime, and she has school tomorrow. You can take her out to look at stars Friday or Saturday night.”
“Venus is a planet,” Rodney pointed out. “You do remember that, don’t you?”
Jeannie rolled her eyes. “Yes, Rodney.”
“Okay. Friday or Saturday. Well, that gives me time to find a decent telescope.”
#
“Finding Venus?” John asked. Unable to sleep, he had tracked Rodney down to the Millers’ back deck, where he was bent over Madison’s red and yellow plastic telescope.
Straightening, Rodney said, “This thing’s a piece of shit.”
“Yeah, I don’t think Fisher-Price makes a high quality viewing instrument.”
Rodney shrugged. “Anyway, Venus has set. I could show you Saturn, though.” He aimed the telescope at the sky and focused, then gestured toward the eyepiece.
Looking through it, John saw a whitish-yellow blur. “That’s supposed to be Saturn?”
“It is Saturn. I just can’t get it in focus.”
“Saturn is pretty pointless if you can’t even see the rings.”
“Have to get her a better one,” Rodney agreed, dropping into a patio chair. “The planetarium gift shop might have something.”
“So you’re….” John trailed off.
“What?”
“Okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Rodney glanced down at the stump of his arm, tucking his sleeve in around it.
John shrugged.
“I’m going back, if that’s what you mean,” Rodney added.
That hadn’t been quite what John had been thinking, but since he didn’t know what he did mean, exactly, he didn’t interrupt.
“I mean, this is fine for a vacation--” He gestured at the toy telescope, “but I’m not going to win my Nobel prize here.” As quickly as he’d sat down, Rodney jumped up again. Wheeling the small telescope on its tripod, he aimed it at a different section of the sky and looked through the eyepiece. After making a few small adjustments, he said, “There-that’s Pegasus.”
Taking his turn at the eyepiece, John saw a patch of sky that looked no different from any other. Still, he looked for longer than he had at the blurry sphere that was Saturn.
#
Rodney bent to put the balloon string carefully in Madison’s hand. “Now, if you let go of it--”
“It’ll fall up,” Jeannie added.
“And Daddy won’t buy me another one,” Madison finished, with a sigh. “I know. You say that every time.”
“You do?” Rodney asked, sounding more surprised about it than seemed reasonable to John.
She glanced over at him. “Uh-huh.”
While Rodney and Madison walked ahead of them, Rodney explaining exactly why balloons fell up, Jeannie explained, “Famous family story. When we were kids, we were at this carnival, fun-fair thing. Dad and Rodney had been there for a while, I guess-it was on campus. There were balloons, and when I got mine, Mer-Rodney-said, ‘if you let go of it, it’ll fall up, and Dr. Ingram won’t buy you another one.’” She pronounced “Dr. Ingram” the same way Rodney had when he’d first woken up in the lab-Doctor ring-gram. “It was funny, for some reason. Dad repeated it pretty much any time he saw a balloon, and we picked it up with Maddy.”
“Dr. Ingram and Greta thought it was funny because I’d already lost about six balloons,” Rodney explained, turning half around. “I was conducting a series of experiments,” he added seriously. “I was very interested in gravity that year.”
“You were two!” Jeannie protested.
“Yes, and I was interested in gravity,” Rodney repeated. “I thought I had it pretty much figured out, but then I let go of the balloon-the first one was an accident-and when it didn’t do what I expected it to, I was pretty freaked out.”
“So Dad got you another one, and--”
“Well, of course I had to find out if it was going to behave the same way.”
“Of course,” Jeannie agreed. “How much progress did you make by the time Dad de-funded the project?”
“Not much. I hadn’t learned about atomic weights yet, so I’d pretty much hit a wall by balloon six anyway.” He added thoughtfully, “I was still pretty pissed when you let go of yours and got another one right away.”
“Of course you were.”
“Well, it wasn’t fair.”
“I got two balloons, you got six. How is that not fair?”
Listening to them bicker, John wondered how Rodney had ever thought that Jeannie wasn’t really his sister.