We take the offensive in the Battle for Jeff.

This is part 5 of the story to save the shipping guy, Jeff. Save him from us, unfortunately.  If you haven't read part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 and Part 5  this might seem kind of dumb. And if you have it will probably seem completely hopeless.  But, they are readily available, and free, and it probably wouldn't hurt, too much, to go have a quick read.


Bob lay on his back. Looking at the ceiling, his gaze wandering from light fixture to air vent to corner. A restless visual pacing. When he had made several laps around the entire area he turned toward Jeff.

It was a small room, and a taxing procedure. An operation of a scope that required a great deal of equipment. All of this equipment required tables, and these tables were crammed into the room chaotically. It had started simply and grown quickly, and there was no order to gear scattered throughout.

So, when Bob turned to look at Jeff all he could see where the soles of his feet, and a few inches of leg sticking out of the bottom of a sheet that was thrown over the inert shipping guy. Jeff's skin was grey with white splotches the size of silver dollars that seemed to move slowly, and change shape, but it happened so slowly it was really hard to be certain.

"I really liked Jeff." Bob said softly, slowly. His tone contemplative, almost serene.

"How well did you know Jeff?" I asked, thinking it was odd that Bob liked anyone. Surprised at the small display of kindness from this rebar reinforced, poured concrete custodial person. Shocked at the hint of sadness.

"Not well, we had coffee together a few times in the cafeteria. But, he was aces. If you know what I mean. Everybody who walked in smiled at him. Patted him on the back, shook his hand. And here is the odd part. They smiled at me. For a few minutes I was just one of the guys. Jeff had the power to change reality.

"Why did you choose him?  Why not Anthony, the guy from maintenance? He is a world class jerk. You know, one time I filed down the axle on the right, front wheel of his cart. He was going to answer a job ticket, and halfway there the wheel broke off, shot through the customer service department and broke Jim's "Worlds Best Dad" coffee mug, which was a blatant lie, anyway. Anthony's tools spilled all over the aisle. It was hilarious. I posted it on YouTube." Bob laughed, and coughed.

"Hey, you didn't do that to my chair, did you?" asked John, standing by his table, next to a chair that leaned uncomfortably to the right.

"No, no, of course not." Bob said, then fell silent.

"I don't know why we chose him. We just thought he would complain the most politely, I guess.

His eyes closed, and the dial on the monitor flashed "100 %".  The personality traits transfer was completed.

"Bob, you should be able to see, or feel what our little robot is experiencing. Think about the distant sensations. It might be a lonely, small feeling of isolation, or dread." Dr. Dawg said. "This is alien to you, and it might seem terrible. But, with a little effort you will find the center. Think about the movement."

A slight twitch registered on the display, then a full rotation. Then a small jump. Then what looked like our tiny, subatomic robot was doing the "robot" dance.

"Sorry." Bob said. "I couldn't help myself." Chuckling a little.

"Let's float this boat, and go save Jeff." Bob said.

"Commencing injection." said a robotic sounding voice, though it was really just Thomas. He had given up the southern drawl for a more futuristic timbre (which may have sounded even  more idiotic, I swear I am going to fire that guy). He counted backward from 10, lost track at 4, and just pushed the button.

Bob was on his way. Jeff groaned, and we all thought it sounded hopeful.

The Battle for Jeff (part III)

This is the third part of a never ending post about the battle for the shipping guy, Jeff. If you haven't read part 1 and part 2  this might not make much sense. Although, there is not a lot of hope for sense even if you have read both earlier posts. But, they are readily available, and it probably wouldn't hurt, too much, to go have a quick read.

"You know, the waiting is the hardest part." Dr. Dawg said, to everyone in the room and to no one in particular. It was just something to say. He took a sip of coffee, and continued, "at least we have coffee." He took a small bite of a cheese danish, and went on "and cheese danish." He took a bite of a glazed donut, and added, "and donuts." He took small nibble of an everything bagel and I cut him off.

"We get the idea."

I had been watching the action reports scrolling across the screen. Our tiny platoons of minuscule robots were holding their own, "Alpha squad has crested the elbow, sending Charley to reinforce." That was promising. But, they bogged down trying to get past he Capitulum. When they started losing ground we got a little panicked and ate a whole coffee cake, and then decided to send in the little bitty attack helicopters.

We were preparing the IV when the screen flashed the ominous message. "Have Surrendered."

"What?!!?" I almost shrieked. And the little killer robots must have heard me. Because the reply flashed almost immediately on the monitor.

"Surrender might be a poor choice of words. We actually went over and joined the other side."

"What!?!?" I asked with a lot more dignity. the last "what" had really come out wrong, and it was a little embarrassing. These were co-workers. But, it was still loud enough for them to hear.

"They offered us a great deal. Regular hours, yearly performance evaluations. Very little travel, it was a sweetheart offer. And you guys were kind of jerks sometimes. Always adding stuff, removing stuff, sending us into minefields to prove we could withstand explosives, really uncool, dude."

"Isn't that treason?" Dr, Dawg asked between bites of a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit with Tabasco
sauce.

A dark, ominous, terrifying voice from the shadows in the back of the room said "treason is a seditious act of rebellion against a sovereign country. What you have here is a coup.*"

It was Bob, the custodian. Nobody knew where he came from, one day he just showed up, and next thing you know he was on the payroll. His past was steeped in mystery. As mysterious as the scar that ran under the patch covering his left eye. He was a dark presence where ever he appeared, and thank God he chose to stay hidden most days.

His voice was like the echo made by an atomic reaction. It was soft, and slow, and powerful, and terrifying. We had talked about firing him (he never did anything) but nobody wanted to tell him. We had left a note, once, asking him to clean the executive restroom, and he nailed the ashes to the refrigerator door. We learned to live with him.

"That little robot you sent in there the other day has set himself up a little kingdom inside Jeff's head. He runs it with little regard for law, and no care at all for Jeff. Any other machine you send in is going to end up on the "other side" if you see what I am saying. What you need is an expert in insurgency warfare, a man who can operate under cover behind enemy lines. A man who has no objections to fighting dirty. You need a real bastard."

"Are you free?" I asked, before taking another bite of a world class breakfast burrito.

*Thank you +S. Bradley Stoner.

Jeff and the Tiny Killer Robot. (part 1) #FixthePlus

Until recently we, here at Life Explained, Ohio Division, have not taken much of an interest in applying technology to the field of internal medicine. It really was not part of the mission statement, probably, we are not sure where that is anymore. Maybe we never had one.

We read about the exciting field of surgical micro robots and all the profit potential and decided it was time to add a line or two to our company charter.

First we took one of our Murderous Openfield Mangler (we always thought good ol' MOM would appreciate the nod) bots and scaled it down. It doesn't need nearly as much size when you take away the missiles, grenade launcher, automatic machine gun, flame thrower, ballistic bayonet and cork screw (we added that in case the Swiss Army ever ordered a platoon).

Next we took out the pistons that drove the legs and installed a small inboard motor, similar to a jet ski to propel the little machine of salvation through the blood stream.

Since we were still kind of new to Innerbody Navigation we wanted to pick the right candidate.

"Get Jeff from the shipping department, he is huge. We will have a lot more room to move around, in case we take a wrong turn." Dr. Dawg said. It made sense, we voted, and Jeff was the "volunteer."

Jeff was a big man, 6' 5", 285 pounds, long, reddish hair in a pony tail, big blondish beard, tanned, always wore a Cincinnati Reds hat, even during football season. He was voted the "nicest guy in the company" last year. He had a big smile, a deep booming laugh, and helped anybody who was feeling blue. He was a great guy, and probably would not mind "volunteering", very much.

"OK, Jeff, lay here, while I take your blood pressure, and pulse." Bob, from the nurses station said. He was the only one who knew how to check blood pressure, or pulse, and he had keys to the medicine cabinet in case things went "south" and Jeff needed aspirin.

Bob and Jeff were laughing about eating extra salt when his blood pressure was normal. That is when we injected the little robot into his arm.

"Dang, that hurt." Jeff said, he sounded a little angry, and we all looked. We had never seen him mad before, he was a true gentle giant.

"Sorry, Jeff. It takes a big needle to inject a robot, even a tiny robot, into a person. We thought it would be better to surprise you. Just lay back, and relax, that should be the worst part of the procedure." I said, patting him on the shoulder.

"We have a visual feed." Doctor Dawg said, excitedly, looking over the Thomas' shoulder as he navigated the tiny little life saver through the big man's blood stream. "Your arteries are wide open and clear, it is like the hallway in the basement. Wait, it is the hallway in the basement. Here, let me adjust the video feed. Ah, there we go, Cruising through the blood stream now."

I patted Jeff on the shoulder again, what else do you do?

"Hey, there is little blockage up by the shoulder. We are going to clear that for you, Jeff. You will be healthier than when we started." Dawg said.

"Now Arming Hellfire Missiles" the disembodied voice of the robot said.

"What?!?!" Jeff tried to jump up, fortunately we had strapped him to the table.

"Just kidding, I put that in there as a little joke."  I said. Keeping the mood light seemed like a good idea, so I programmed in some levity. I patted Jeff on the shoulder again, and he tried to bite my hand.

"Navigating to blockage, and engaging drill," Thomas said, his voice relaxed, and touched by a twinge of the South, even though he was from New Jersey. He always acted like a fighter ace when we let him do these things. I would have to talk to the review board about this, it was irritating as hell.

As the robot neared the blockage a group of white blood cells leaped up from their place of concealment and unleashed a barrage of small arms fire at our little robot.

"Man down, I'm hit, Medic, SOS, Ouch.Help me." our robot cried, and began sobbing.

Dr. Dawg looked at me, and said, "well, I did not see that coming. What should we do?"

"We have to send in a squad to get our robot back. What choice do we have? Jeff has a wounded killer robot festering in his shoulder, it could do almost anything. Remember that time we lost one in the supermarket, and it leveled the whole block, including the organic produce section. You are still under probation for that. Besides, I don't want to tell the accounting department we lost a billion dollar robot inside a guy from the shipping department." I said.

"Agreed." Dr. Dawg said. "Jeff, it is 5:00 and you know the rules about overtime at this point in the cycle. So we will have to pick this up tomorrow morning. Try not to eat or drink anything, or use the restroom, or make any sudden or threatening movements, or have the television too loud. We will see you at 8:00 tomorrow morning. Hey, have a relaxing evening."

Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion.