“Just what we need,” Dorothy decided, producing an electronic bug, shaped like a spider. Amy watched in amazement as the bug scurried across the gold bricks, then raced up the robot’s tin-plated leg and body. As soon as the spider clamped itself to the robot’s head, the brick layer froze in midmotion.
“These repair robots don’t have much of a brain,” Dorothy expained. “Hop aboard. He will do whatever we want.”
Dorothy had the robot dump his bricks and pick them up instead. “So long as that bug stays attached, the robot will obey both you and me. Try it out.”
Amy told the mechanical man to head west, and he did, carrying them easily over the yellow bricks. This was the way to travel, with no effort, sitting on the robot’s shoulder, able to see all around, with her feet resting in his metal hand. Though the robot could not outrun the Wheelers, they could easily spot them coming. Amy asked, “What if Wheelers are waiting for us at Jewel City?”
“Wheelers are at their worst at night.” Dorothy had no fear in the dark, being able to gather firewood and count stars long after Amy gave up.
They ran into trouble well before dusk. As the sun dipped into the southwest, a silver disk separated from the corona and started sweeping the sky between them and Jewel City. Dorothy ordered the robot off the road, headed north fast and hard, saying, “That UFO is hunting us. It came right out of the sun to sweep the road. We dare not approach until dark.” Not content just to hide, Dorothy told the mechanical man to keep going north toward Webber, up by the Pawnee Nation. “Those disks see a long way, and tell the Bushwhackers where to search.” Amy believed it. Bushwhackers had been on to her faster than she ever thought possible. As the sun set behind them, they kept on going, crossing the White Rock fork of the Republican, and skirting Webber in the dark. Amy worried aloud, saying, “There are nothing but Pawnee up here.”
“That’s why we are going through in the dark,” Dorothy explained. “It’s virgin sacrifice season.”
“Don’t have to tell me,” Amy whispered back. The Pawnee habit of sacrificing stray virgins to the Morning Star was the only drawback of an otherwise friendly and hospitable people. “What’s beyond the Pawnee?”
This was a question Amy had never thought to ask before. Pawnee to the north, Cheyenne to the west, and Ottawas to the south, those were the limits of her world—heard of, but hardly ever seen. All Dorothy said was, “You’ll see.”
And Amy did. Without much warning, the open prairie and creekbed farmlands favored by Pawnee and Ottawas turned into sandy desert, followed by fenced wheatfields shining in the moonlight, backed by stands of corn.
She had thought that beyond the Pawnee there could only be more Indians. Instead it looked like home.
“Where are we?”
“This is Mitchell County. We are still headed north, aiming to cross the Solomon, west of Beloit.” Amy could tell they were headed north, aimed smack at the Little Dipper, but the rest made no sense. Mitchell County was south of Jewel City. Beloit was just about even with her home, only one county over. “How could we get here by heading north?”
Dorothy sighed. “Here’s where it gets hard. You’re not living on Earth. Not even close.”
“Not Earth?” Where else could she be?
“Brace yourself,” Dorothy advised. “Your world is not even a planet, it’s a habitat, a spinning torus about a hundred miles across, orbiting in a dead system. Everything looks flat to you because of gravity control and 3V effects. North just means moving around the inner surface of the torus counter-clockwise.” Amy stared at Dorothy in disbelief, but the little girl in gingham just said, “Get used to it. Every world is finite. Yours is just smaller than most, and turned in on itself, like an overgrown doughnut. North is counter-clockwise, south is clockwise, east is spinward, and west is anti-spinward. If you go straight in any direction, you will come back to where you started.”
Apparently. Amy still could not believe it.
“Same is true in the big universe outside,” Dorothy told her, “discounting relativity effects. Ottawas and Pawnee have known this for a long time, but settled folk tend to hide it from the kids.” Proof of this outrageous claim came when they crossed the Solomon west of Beloit, and Amy recognized the big covered bridge, having been there before. Soon they were back in Jewel County, and she could see Jewel City sparkling in the distance. Just to the north of them was the yellow brick road that they had left many miles to the south.
Dorothy weighed their chances of making the rendezvous. “This is the area they searched yesterday afternoon. They found nothing, so it should be safe to enter, especially from the south. I’ve programmed the pickup point into this robot, so whatever happens, try to stay with him.” With nowhere else to go, Amy nodded vigorously. Supported by the swift, strong metal man, she felt invulnerable. From what Dorothy said, there was a huge wide cosmos beyond the narrow limits of her world. This was her best chance of getting there. If she did not go with Dorothy, she might as well give herself to the Bushwhackers.
Before they even got to the yellow brick road, Amy saw lights blinking to the east, between them and Jewel City. Dorothy told the metal man to put them down, saying, “We should go on foot from here. It’ll attract less attention.”
“What about him?” Amy had grown fond of the robot.
Dorothy smiled at her concern, saying, “I’m leaving the bug on him, just in case. Hopefully we’re home free.”
“Home” and “free” were two words Amy never put together, but Dorothy was full of such odd sayings. As they approached the road, Dorothy whispered for silence. “Pickup is now, two hundred meters north of the road. If you lose me, just keep heading for the Little Dipper.” Amy nodded. Follow the Drinking Gourd. Holding onto Dorothy’s hand, she crept up to the road. Dawn glowed faintly in the east, beyond the lights of Jewel City, but by now the moon had set, leaving only starlight to the north. Amy did not see the road until she stumbled hard on an invisible brick.
“Shit!” Dorothy hissed. “We’ve been seen.”
By whom? Amy peered about, nursing her hurt toe, seeing nothing. Dorothy shoved her back off the road, saying, “Run.”
Run where? Suddenly, stabbing bright lights flashed in her eyes, blinding her even more. Unable to see, she fell to her knees, holding her hat. Dorothy stepped between her and the glaring lights, a small dark blur.
Wheels whined in the dark, and the lights leaped forward, flashing down the road toward Dorothy. Amy wanted to scream, but did not dare, as the lights sped past and Dorothy disappeared. Blinded again, Amy stared into darkness, still on her knees, listening for Wheelers. Nothing. Amy could not hear any Wheelers, or see the lights of Jewel City. She wanted to call out to Dorothy, but it would do no good.
Suddenly, strong hands seized her, lifting her up. She struggled against the merciless grip, expecting to hear a triumphant Bushwhacker yell. But the hands holding her were cold tin-plated metal. It was the robot, and he began to run with her, across the yellow brick road and on into the night.
Cowardly Lion
Dawn found Amy sitting in a cold wheatfield, miserable and alone, with the silent robot at her side. Tall fluffy clouds dotted the bright 3V sky. Pickup, whatever that meant, had not happened. Instead she had lost Dorothy, the best friend she ever had. Practically her only friend. Sure Dorothy was weird, but no weirder than tutoring her seventh-grade step-mom, or having Dot call her “Aunti Em.” Given her family, anyone Amy got to know was sure to be strange.
Despite Dorothy’s genetic deformity, the Munchkin was the bravest, smartest person Amy had ever known. The only one to say, “Look girl, this is totally nuts. We’re getting you out of here.” Now she was going nowhere. Whoever was coming for Dorothy, did not come for her—leaving Amy with no notion what to do next. Her big, shining, tin-plated robot was strong, fast, tireless, and obedient, but unable to offer suggestions. Worming advice out of the metal man got answers like: