Fuzzy by Tom Angleberger Read Free Book Online Page B

to tell her parents she would have to be transferred to the ExtraChallenge school if she didn’t do better. She didn’t, and one day she wasn’t at school anymore.
    (All this time, Fuzzy just sat there. But he was busy.He downloaded Max’s records. And then Tabbie’s. He looked at the EC school’s statistics. This wasn’t public information, of course, but the school system’s password was easily bypassed.)
    â€œYou should not go to the ExtraChallenge school, Max,” Fuzzy said.
    â€œ
Ugh!
Not you, too!” groaned Max. “Trust me, I don’t
want
to!”
    â€œWell,” said her mother, “then Fuzzy better go home, and you better go study.”
    â€œI am contacting Jones,” said Fuzzy. “He will be here in approximately forty-five seconds, based on the van’s present location.”

4.4
MAX ’ S HOUSE
    Fuzzy got up and very politely thanked the Zelasters for dinner—even though he hadn’t eaten anything—and for the lovely evening, even though it hadn’t been lovely.
    When they had been preparing Fuzzy for the Robot Integration Program, Nina had sent him links to several websites about manners and etiquette and he had created a long list of PoliteBehavior() code.
    So when Fuzzy thanked the Zelasters, he was just running the appropriate code. That’s what robots and computers do, after all. And when they can’t find the appropriate code, they either do nothing or generate an error message.
    But not Fuzzy. When Fuzzy couldn’t find the right code, he started writing it himself. This was what he was built for. To make a plan to fix an error, not just report it. To keep going . . . like a human has to.
    And all through that dinner, listening to Max and her parents, Fuzzy had tried to find the appropriate code for the trouble Max was in. But he couldn’t. The problem didn’t even make sense, he realized: The scores showed that Max was not smart, but his own analysis showed that she
was
smart.
    Smart = not smart
. It just didn’t work. Something was wrong. He needed to fix it. In fact, he wanted to fix it.
    Robots aren’t supposed to want things. They are not supposed to like one person better than another person. They aren’t supposed to do things they are not programmed to do.
    But that’s where the fuzzy logic came in: Fuzzy
was
programmed to do things he wasn’t programmed to do.
    And so he put all available processing power into creating a new, high-priority subroutine:
    HelpMax().

4.5
NEAR MAX ’ S HOUSE
    A block over from Max’s house, a cargo truck was parked so that the occupants had a view, between two buildings, of the street in front of Max’s house.
    A man and a woman watched intently from behind the truck’s heavily tinted windows. Another man was in the back, staring at qScreens and fiddling with equipment.
    â€œValentina! The van’s pulling up,” said the big barrel-shaped man in front.
    â€œThe robot must have called them in!” said the woman. “Zeff, did you pick up the transmission?”
    â€œWhat? No! Maybe!” came shouts from the back.
    â€œJust keep scanning, in case there’s another message. Look! Here comes the robot out of the house.”
    â€œDoesn’t look like much,” said the man in the front seat. “Robo-football players move a lot smoother—”
    â€œWould you shut up? There’s Jones. Looks like he’s got a couple techs with him. Robot’s in the van. There they go.”
    â€œShould I—”
    â€œNo, you shouldn’t,” the blond woman said, and it was obvious that hers was the final word. “Just watch! I want to see if those three SUVs are guarding them . . . Yeah, there they go.”
    Two big black nonautomated SUVs passed by Max’s house, following the van.
    â€œHmm, I guess the other one went back to the school already,” said the