Gadgets: The Great Escape, Page 2

  Both Blade and Deep Fat peeped round the corner again and it was true, Deep Fat could hardly believe his eyes. The kitchen, which was usually kept pristine clean, was awash with cardboard boxes, bubble wrap, old newspapers, rolls of tape, and big marker pens.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Deep Fat was about to say. But he stopped himself, he knew what was going on.

  ‘Come on, let’s get nearer,’ said Blade.

  ‘Are you sure, we could get caught up in all this and I think I know what’s going on.’

  ‘I’m absolutely sure of what’s going on,’ replied Blade. ‘But I have to find my girlfriend and for all I know she could be somewhere out there and needing my help.’

  The two of them slipped round the corner into the main kitchen as quietly as possible keeping their backs as close to the fitted units as they could. The Abercrombies were not in the room which was a relief but they also didn’t want to be spotted by big-mouthed Toaster up above on the worktop.

  Blade and Deep Fat gazed at the scene in front of them. There were gadgets and packaging all over the place and it wasn’t new packaging. Boxes that for years had been in the attic were suddenly back down on the ground floor. There was going to be a massive cull. Deep Fat and Blade had guessed immediately that the Abercrombies had decided to put all the old gadgets they no longer used up for auction on the Internet. It was the worst thing that could ever befall a true gadget, or household accessory as gadgets liked to call themselves. It meant they were no longer required, no longer needed. They were rejects worth only their second-hand value. For a once proud piece of engineering it was a shameful experience and many wished they could be melted down as scrap rather than go through the ignominy of being a second-hand gadget on someone else’s worktop, On any new worktop there were always jerks like Toaster who liked nothing better than reminding the newcomers: ‘Oh dear is that a little scratch I see there? Second-hand are you? Probably a waste of money if you ask me. I bet your motor goes within three months. Well don’t get too near me if you don’t mind, I don’t want to catch anything. I don’t know why you’re coming here anyway, you’ll only be taking away the jobs that brand new accessories could do. You’re cheaper that’s why you’re here and you’re under-cutting the economy of this worktop. Riff-raff, nothing but riff-raff you ought go back where you came from.’ The endless tirade of abuse from the likes of Toaster and his ilk was often more than most second-hands could bear and many tried to throw themselves off the worktop in an effort to smash on to the ceramic floor tiles and end it all.

  And then there were the real Rejects. They were accessories bought on a whim, used only once or twice, in perfect condition and then discarded. A fine example was the bread-maker. It was sold to the gullible trying to re-create a bygone age of freshly baked bread smells wafting through the house, without any of the hard work and effort that went into it. But many owners found that even the effort of putting ingredients into a modern machine was eventually too much trouble and after a couple of attempts went down the road and bought a malted medium sliced. It was doubly hard for bread-makers because even if they were passed on as second-hand their new owners grew tired of them just as quickly as the original ones. Bread-makers were destined to be passed round forever with no worktop they could really call their own. They were the homeless of the gadgets, in and out of care but with no one really caring.

  Blade was surveying the bewildering scene before him when he nudged Deep Fry. ‘Look’, he said, ‘over there,’ pointing to a gadget covered in fresh bubble wrap. ‘Isn’t that Jane Dough under there, Jane the bread-maker?’

  ‘Dunno, can’t see properly from here. My viewing window is a bit misted up.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s Jane. Come on let’s go and see.’

  ‘Are you crazy? If Toaster spots us he’ll give the game away and it’ll be us that ends up under the bubble wrap. Better stay here out of the way.’

  ‘Well you can stay if you want to,’ said Blade. ‘But I’m going over there. Jane has been here a few months and she knew Forque quite well. She may know where she is. Are you with me or not?’

  Deep Fat let out a lingering sigh. ‘All right then,’ he said.

  ‘We are going to have to do this in stages,’ said Blade talking to himself as much as to Deep Fat. ‘The first thing will be to try and secure our position behind the leg of the kitchen table,’ he murmured, his voice trailing off. ‘Mmm..it could work.’ And with that he edged back round the kitchen corner and down the alley.

  He was back in a few seconds. ‘OK wait until I say go and then head for that big oak table leg and hide behind it as well as you can,’ Blade told Deep Fat pointing to a table about four metres away. ‘And go as fast as you can, I’ll be right behind you.’

  Then all of a sudden a mighty commotion started down the alleyway. ‘You tousle-haired twit you can only clean up after I’ve done most of the work’, shouted the broom. ‘Yeah well how come I have to do it at all again if you’re so bleeding good,’ replied the mop. Then there was a clash of sticks as if they were kendo fighting.

  ‘Wait…wait…’ Blade cautioned Deep Fat.

  ‘Hey,’ Kettle shouted across to Toaster, ‘come and have a look. They’re at it again.’ And with that Toaster started moving across the worktop intent on getting to the edge that looked down on the alley to see the fighting and all the commotion. As Toaster was moving off and watching where he went Blade said: ‘Now.’

  And with that Deep Fat and Blade made a bee-line for the table and ducked out of sight behind the large oak leg.

  ‘You’re useless you two are,’ Toasted shouted to the broom and the mop. ‘Neither of you know how to fight properly, you’re ugly and look at you, you’re old-fashioned with your wooden handles’. As Toaster continued ranting on Blade looked over to the two cleaners down the alley and gave them a wink. They started shouting back at Toaster.

  ‘What’s it got to do with you anyway,’ said the mop. ‘You’re burnt out, you’re toast.’ And at that both the broom and the mop started laughing. ‘The trouble with you is that no one uses you anymore that’s why your such a nasty busy-body. You’ve got nothing better to do.’ And then they started laughing again.

  ‘Hold on’, thought Toaster. ‘Something’s going on here. One minute they are fighting each other, the next minute they’re laughing. And with that he swung round just to catch a slight rustle as Blade and Deep Fat hurled themselves behind the packing boxes.

  ‘Did you see that?’ Toaster said to Kettle.

  ‘See what?’

  ‘There,’ said Toaster pointing in the direction of the packaging. ’There was rustling coming from over there.’

  ‘You’re imagining things, you’re tired. Go back to your station and rest.’

  ‘I tell you there’s something going on.’

  And with that Toaster started back over the worktop, a thoughtful frown across his slots.

  Blade and Deep Fat were within whispering distance of Jane Dough. ’Jane, whatever you do don’t look round and don’t move, it’s Blade. Trust me. Just listen to me’. Jane instinctively went to move but caught herself. There was the merest hint of bubble wrap movement.

  ‘It looks like there is a major auction being planned here, you are not the only one that has already been bubble-wrapped. Deep Fat is with me. We were probably being lined up for the auction as well, but we managed to escape from one of the cupboards where Deep Fat had been for three months or more. The thing is that no one knows we are amongst you which is to our advantage. But Toaster is unreliable and I think he is keeping an eye on everything, that’s why it is best not to make a move. And there is one more thing Jane…Forque is missing. I don’t know where she is and I don’t know why she disappeared but I aim to try and track her down. If you’ve seen her lift up your Nut Raisin Dispenser slightly.’

  Blade waited, but Jane didn’t react.

  Jane Dough was an aristocrat of bread-makers, a Balencci BW 794 PTS, made in Italy. She had the lot – and
more. There were 13 automatic programmes for bread, dough, pasta and jam. There were French and Italian bread options as well as gluten free loaves in all sizes. Croissants were well catered for as were baguettes and there was even a pop out baking guide on the unit.

  Jane was a neat piece of kit, and the Abercrombies had not even scratched the surface of what she was capable. She had been tried out a couple of times to make the most basic of loaves and then the novelty had worn off. It worried Blade when he thought he saw a tear trickling down the side of her digital timer.

  ‘Don’t cry Jane, he said quietly. ‘It’ll all be all right.’

  ‘No it won’t,’ she sniffed. ‘I’m going to be homeless, shunted from one auction to another, from one worktop to another. No one will ever realise I can make tea breads and cakes and even sandwich bread with a very thin crust. In fact I doubt I’ll ever get used again…’

  ‘Don’t be so down-hearted Jane. I’ll think of something and see if I can’t get all of us out of this mess. Do you know when the online auctions are starting?’

  ‘I think it’s this evening,’ she sniffled. ‘They are doing the packaging now and then we’ll have to sit around for days boxed up until the winning bidder pays. I don’t really know how it works Blade. This is my first auction and I’m scared.’

  ‘Don’t be. Now you’re sure aren’t you that you haven’t seen Forque?.’

  ‘Absolutely sure. I only ever see her when she’s with you.’

  Blade was silent, puzzling about what to do next. The first thing, he did out of sheer defiance was quietly slice through the bubble-wrap that was around Jane and set her free.

  ‘OK Jane you should feel a bit better now without that stuff on you. I’ve got to go and see who else is around here, but don’t worry we’ll be back for you.’

  ‘Yes we will,’ added Deep Fat awkwardly, because he didn’t know what else to say but quite liked the look of Jane.

  Blade moved silently around the packing boxes, Deep Fat bringing up the rear, both of them looking for other gadgets that had been boxed up or bubble wrapped, or sitting by themselves, all alone and wondering their fate.

  Somehow they all had to get out of the house before any of them were actually ready for posting. They had quite a few days before the auctions ended and the payments were made, but it was still a monumental task. Yet there seemed no other way.

  Blade gazed up to the worktop. Kettle seemed to be having a snooze but Toaster was his usual arrogant self, looking down on the kitchen. What a traitor he is, thought Blade. He pretends to be one of us but somehow he isn’t. Blade had nothing against the Abercrombies. They had always treated him and Forque fairly and they had every right to put any gadget they wanted on an online auction if they felt they no longer needed the household accessory. They were simply ignorant of the harm they would be doing by creating a class of second-hand goods. How would they like it themselves if every time they moved house they were regarded by their new neighbours, who had been living their for years, as second-class citizens? Well that was how the hierarchy of gadgets worked in his world. If you were new you were OK. If you had arrived from a previous worktop you were a second-class citizen.

  Blade continued past some crumpled-up pieces of newspaper and then spied an original box with the words Cane Industries on the side. He turned to Deep Fat who was following closely behind, ‘Look,’ he whispered, ‘It’s Lee-Mailer’s old box, you don’t think they are getting rid of him as well do you?’

  ‘Why not? Why on earth should they keep him. He’s old-fashioned technology, worse than useless when he first came out if you ask me anything. They’ve got a brand new go-faster computer now. They won’t need him anymore. If you ask me Blade they’ll hardly get anything for him at an auction. Might not even get a sale.’

  ‘Don’t be so cruel,’ he might be around here. ‘He might even hear what you’re saying.’

  ‘Only speaking as I find,’ said Deep Fat.

  ‘And now you’ve found him, you fat lump of lard,’ said Lee-Mailer emerging from behind the box with a piece of bubble wrap on his head. ‘I’ll tell you one thing I’ve got more brains in one little circuit board than you’ve got in the whole of your grease-stained tub. About the only thing you can do is switch a red warning light on and off. Wow I am impressed,’ he added sarcastically. ‘If you are so high and mighty Deep Fat why aren’t you up on the worktop were the so-called bloody essentials belong?’ Why aren’t you there?

  ‘Because I’ve, I’ve…..’he replied stammering quietly and hanging his lid a little.

  ‘You’ve what? Come on tell me?’

  ‘I’ve…I’ve been thrown out,’ he admitted shamefully.

  ‘Hahaha...hahaha,’ Lee-Mailer began to laugh. ‘Hehehe…hehehe.

  ‘Be quiet the both of you,’ ordered Blade. ‘You’ll draw attention to us. Listen Lee-Mailer my girlfriend Forque has gone missing and me and Deep Fat were looking for her when we came across all this,’ he waved his hand signalling the packaging. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen her at all have you?’

  ‘No can’t say I have,’ replied Lee-Mailer. ’Mind you most of the time I’ve been locked up in the drawer in the hall table, so I haven’t really seen anyone. When did she go missing?’

  ‘Can’t tell really, could have been Saturday evening. About 36 hours ago at the most,’ replied Blade.

  ‘Can’t help you, sorry.’

  ‘OK Lee-Mailer, thanks anyway. Listen, I think you can be useful so if you’d like to join Deep Fat and me it would be good to have you with us.’

  ‘Hang around with that rotund cake tin, you’re joking.’

  ‘If you think I’m going to play motherboard to that piece of old junk count me out,’ came back Deep Fat.

  ‘All right,’ said Blade. ’If that’s what you want you can both stay here and get packed up and I’ll go on ahead by myself.’

  ‘Let’s not be too hasty,’ both Lee-Mailer and Deep Fat said at the same time, with a look of horror.

  ‘I mean as long as it’s on a professional level….’ began Deep Fat.

  ‘…and nothing more,’ continued Lee-Mailer.

  ‘OK that’s settled,’ said Blade. ‘But if I catch either of you squabbling then you’ll be on your own. Now let’s go.’

  Deep Fat fell in behind Blade, and Lee-Mailer was just about to protest that he didn’t want to be third when he managed to catch his tongue and said as graciously as he could: ‘After you Mr. Fat,’ before mumbling under his breath: ‘I suppose I’ll have to stare at his huge arse all the way from now on.’

  Lee-Mailer, who had been created by Cane Industries in South Korea was more accurately a CI721eZX and had been designed to pick up and deliver email across the Internet as well as having limited browsing ability. It was more bottom-of-the-range than top when compared with any sort of PC even an old one, but it performed its tasks adequately. Users had complained of the high phone charges for using a CI721eZX, now that everyone had broadband, and it had fallen into disrepute. But Blade had a hunch it could be useful and, when the moment came, invaluable.

  The carving knife knew that Lee-Mailer was hiding a set of features that few knew about. It had a built-in camera and could send and receive pictures and text messages; it was a voice and video phone and it had ring tones you could change in an instant. With a complete keyboard and access to the Net Lee-Mailer could come in very handy indeed.

  The three gadgets moved quietly around the kitchen, taking note of what else was there and promising to come back and try and help them later. Even Blade had to think twice about what they were going to do with a sandwich-maker, but he didn’t let on as he acknowledged the juicer, the slow cooker, the ice cream maker and all the rest of the gadgets.

  As the three were approaching the far corner of the kitchen from the main work-top there was a huge commotion, a door opened and in ran three children.

  ‘Look at all these things,’ said one of the kids. ‘Yuck.’ And he gave Deep Fat a big kick that
sent the fryer hurtling into a packing box as old newspapers fell on his head. ‘Anyone for crazy football,’ the child shouted and again he kicked at the gadgets on the floor and then kicked at the packing cases. Spotting the bubble wrap, he started bursting them. The two other children joined in. But bursting the bubbles with their hands wasn’t good enough for them so they started jumping on the bubble rap, banging it with their feet and shouting as loud as they could.

  The noise stirred Toaster. ‘Those awful children again,’ he thought. ‘My God, this family, I don’t know why I work for them. Every morning those children grab the toast before it has even finished grilling. They drop it on the floor, leave their grubby fingerprints all over me, splash me with butter and jam. I’m sure their mother loves them but….’

  The noise in the kitchen was ear-splitting as the bubble wrap was popped and the boxes smashed. The frightened gadgets moved away as quickly as possible. They might not have liked the idea of becoming second-hand goods but they all realised third or fourth hand would be better than no hand at all which is what could happen if those monsters trampled on you.

  ‘Hey.’ shouted the eldest child, Zack, an overweight 10 year-old with piggy eyes, ‘Let’s go in the garden. Let’s attack the gnomes, let’s attack the gnomes…

  ‘Yeah,’ agreed his eight-year-old brother Jake. ‘Let’s attack the gnomes.

  ‘Yeah,’ said their little sister Lucy half-heartedly, who at five years old didn’t really know what she was doing, or what a gnome was, but was always swept along by her elder brothers.

  And so the three tearaway, awfully middle-class, children were out of the kitchen door and ready to declare mayhem on the garden.

  Blade looked back on the wrecked scene and smiled. ‘Well it looks like those kids did our job for us. No one is going to get packed up today. All those boxes are flattened and damaged. ’But his smile masked the hurt he was feeling inside. Where on earth was Forque. Had she been abducted, and if so who would want to take her? Had she maybe fallen and hurt herself? Was she trapped somewhere and needed his help? The worst kind of thoughts were going through his mind, He was restless, he was angry but above all he was tired. All that work breaking out of the kitchen cupboard during the night was beginning to take its toll on him even though he was young and fit. He really needed somewhere to rest for a while. He needed to think, he needed to think about where his girlfriend could possibly be, and he needed to think about how he was going to try and save the other gadgets from being auctioned off and sent packing round the country.

  His thoughts were broken by Deep Fat. ‘Toaster alert, toaster alert,’ he said quietly to Blade and Lee-Mailer. ‘He’s moving around the worktop, scrutinising the kitchen. Stay in hiding.’ That’s what they needed a good hiding place for a while, thought Blade. Deep Fat had received a real kicking from that brat kid and also needed to rest just like himself. The three of them stayed where they were, hidden under some old newspapers, until Toaster tired of looking over his domain and went back to his station again.

  “We have to find somewhere we can rest up for a while,’ Blade told the other two, ‘while we figure out what to do next. We can’t stay in this kitchen ducking and diving every time Toaster raises his head. We need somewhere we can be marginally safe. Any ideas you two?’

  ‘Well don’t ask me,’ said Deep Fat. ‘I’ve been stuck in a cupboard for three months and before that I was on the worktop. I have no idea of the lie of the land.’

  ‘Mmm, you Lee-Mailer, you got any ideas?’

  ‘It’s a long shot but I reckon that cupboard under the stairs would make a decent headquarters,’ he said, sagely nodding to himself as if there was no one else there. ‘I spent a long time in the hall way, before they put we away in the drawer and I never saw anyone ever go in that space under the stairs. That sounds as good a bet as any to me.’

  ‘OK we’ll try it,’ said Blade. ’One thing in our favour is the Abercrombies still think we are locked up, so unless they find out otherwise they are not going to go looking for us. It would be a lot different if any of the other gadgets went missing, and that’s going to be our problem. How are we going to get them out of the kitchen without any one noticing?

  Just as he was pondering the question the back door flew open and in ran the Abercrombie kids shouting and screaming at the top of their voices.

  ‘Geronimo,’ shouted Zack. ‘Yeah’, said his brother. ‘Meronino,’ added little Lucy as they began kicking the packaging and whatever was hidden beneath it. ‘We’re on the war path, we’re on the war path,’ chanted Zack at the top of his hyper-activity due to all the e-numbered sweets he had been cramming into his mouth.

  He kicked and flailed, the boot went in here, it went in there… and then it connected.

  Deep Fat heard a yelp of pain and immediately recognised the voice. It was Jane. Deep Fat had always been a bit of a bumbling gentle person. He was never going to be the crinkliest crisp in the packet but he had feelings like any other gadget and when he heard Jane Dough cry out in pain he was incensed. As the hooligan children moved off to terrorise another part of the kitchen Deep Fat began to sidle towards where the crying had come from.

  ‘Stay right where you are,’ barked Blade. ‘Don’t make a move while those kids are in here.’

  And for the first time Deep Fat disobeyed Blade. ‘You can stay where you are chief,’ he said steadily. ‘But there is a lady in distress over there and I am going to see what I can do to help. I’ve been kicked myself by that lot and I know how it feels.’ And with that he moved as quietly as possible underneath the rustling packaging and old bubble wrap until he found Jane Dough.

  Jane was weeping silently, tears flowing down the side of her digital timer.

  ‘Sshh, don’t cry Jane,’ said Deep Fat as soothingly as possible. ‘It’s going to be all right. What happened?

  ‘On…on my right side,’ Jane replied haltingly. ‘They…they must have kicked me,’ and then she burst into little sobs. ‘It’s pushing in on me.

  ‘Right, well I’m just going to have a little look. Don’t worry, this won’t hurt.’

  Deep Fat started feeling around the sides of the bread-maker very gently so as not to make matters worse, until he came to the damaged area.

  ‘Oh dear,’ he said to Jane. ‘Mmm, not very nice at all. But I think it looks worse than it is.

  ‘What have they done?’ asked Jane, her voice cracking with worry.

  ‘Well there’s a nasty dent in your side, but your instrument panel is OK and intact, that’s one good thing. The dent is causing the pressure on your insides and that’s why you are feeling the pain. I wish there was a better place to do this but I am going to try and repair things here. Can you just open your lid and put it back on its hinges as far as it will go?’

  Deep Fat took his lid off all together and fished around inside for his wire basket. ‘This will have to do,’ he thought to himself, I just hope it’s strong enough.’ Holding the basket end he leaned in to Jane as far as he could and pressed the strong steel handle to the dent. He pushed as hard as he could but just couldn’t get quite the right leverage. So he summoned up all his considerable strength while telling Jane quietly, ‘This might hurt just a little.’ And then he put all his weight behind pushing the dent. Jane gave out a small cry and then ‘plop’ the dent was pushed out.

  ‘It’s going to be sore and ache for a little while,’ Deep Fat told the bread-make. ‘But you should be as good as new very soon.’

  Relief flowed through Jane Dough, even though the pain was still there. And then she reached over to Deep Fat and gave him a little kiss. The fryer blushed. ‘Well I have to go back and see Blade now,’ he said all flustered. ’But, ‘em, ‘em, don’t worry because we’ll be back soon to look after you. So…yes…well, that’s it then…bye then.’ And Deep Fat was off, a beaming smile on his face.

  By the time he had got back to Blade and Lee-Mailer, and told them all about what had happened - forgetting, of course, to ment
ion the kiss - he was in a rage again.

  ‘Those kids have got to be taught a lesson,’ he said to Blade. ‘You should have seen what they did to Jane. A nasty big dent right in her side. But do they care? No. To them she’s just another gadget.’

  ‘They’d care if their parents ever found out,’ said Lee-Mailer. ‘A dent means money they are losing at the auction.’

  ‘We’ll we have to teach them a lesson, that’s all I know,’ repeated Deep Fat.

  There was silence for a while and then Blade smiled to himself and said to the others, ‘I think I’ve got an idea. We just have to sit here and wait until they are called in for tea.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  GOING ONCE