Vell Harlan and the Doomsday Dorms

“Vell!”

Vell’s mother rushed across the docks just as Vell stepped off the ferry. He set his bag aside for a moment to give her the hug she was so clearly desperate for. After lingering in his arms for a while, Vell’s mother stepped back and started doing the mandatory mom fussing, straightening his hair and wiping wayward spots on his face. She gave him a thorough examination, and stared fiercely into his eyes. Vell’s mother was one of the few people he knew tall enough to look him eye to eye. His father, on the other hand, was lucky to look him eye to elbow. Vell’s father was what some might refer to as a “short king”. The cowboy hat made him look a little taller, at least.

“Welcome back, kiddo,” Vell’s father drawled. If he hadn’t grown up with it, Vell would have sworn he was faking the accent. Vell’s dad gave him a paternal pat on the shoulder and then gestured back to the truck they’d rented. “Let’s get on home. From what you told us, sounds like you could use some time on the ranch.”

“Oh dear, I’m sure he wants to take his mind off all that,” Vell’s mom said. She tugged at her hijab to straighten it out and then reached down -far down- to grab her husband by the hand as they walked back to the truck. Vell had told them all about his breakup on a phone call during the boat ride back to the mainland. He had hoped it would mean no discussing it while face to face.

“It’s fine, bebe,” Vell said. “I don’t really want to talk about it, but, uh, some time on the ranch sounds good.”

“It’ll be grand, y’all, I’ve always said there’s no better fix for a case of the blues than the back of a horse,” Vell’s dad said. “Unless that case of the blues is also a case of clinical depression, in which case there’s no better fix than therapy, proper medication, and also the back of a horse. You ain’t clinical depressed, right son?”

“Not the last time I checked, no.”

“Perfect! Back of a horse it is then. We got a new palomino on the ranch you’ll love, rides like a dream.”

“Sounds great, pa,” Vell said. The conversation paused while Vell’s mother gave his dad a hand up into the truck, and then took the driver’s seat for herself. Vell’s dad liked big trucks, but his legs were usually too short to work the pedals right. Thankfully his towering wife was on hand to drive in his stead.

“We got plenty of other things to talk about, after all. This fancy witchcraft you’ve been learning, and them new friends of yours.”

“Oh yes, you’ll have to tell us all about this generous friend of yours. ‘Lee’, yes? It is so nice of her to pay for all of this,” Vell’s mother said. The ferry ride, rental car, and train ride necessary to get home were all coming out of Lee’s pocket -technically. Her parents were doing the real paying, by wont of giving Lee money without actually questioning what she needed it for.

“You know what we should do for Lee? We should send you back with some of those sew-han hallway things your mom makes, with the little almonds slices in them? As a way of saying thank you.”

“Sohan halwa,” Vell’s mother corrected. “You know that.”

“I do, I just love the way you say it,” Vell’s dad said. Vell’s mother blushed, and Vell looked out the window. He’d been looking for a distraction, but if he had to watch his parents flirt, he’d almost rather think about the breakup.

Lee waited silently at the airport terminal while the staff cleared away the rest of the traffic. Lee had no interest in grinding the movement of other traveler's to a halt, but her parents insisted. They called it a security measure. It also conveniently made enough room for their extra-long limo to dominate the curb. The double length limousine required a specially engineered bending section in the middle, and was commonly described as “compensating for something.” The door of the freudian abomination opened automatically when it sensed Lee. She stooped her head and slipped inside while hired hands who had been instructed not to look her in the eye took care of her bags.

The interior of the limousine was as posh-looking as it was empty. Lee found herself alone in the expansive vehicle, unless one counted the bubbles in the included hot tub as company. Lee somehow resisted the urge to go for a dip and sat at the far end of the vehicle’s interior, near the window that connected her to the driver.

“Will we be picking up my parents at another location?” Lee asked.

“No ma’am,” the driver said slowly. “They are occupied elsewhere.”

The driver spoke with the slow, measured cadence typical of a man literally making every word count. Lee’s parents were well aware that in their frequent absences, they risked alienating their daughter. Ever the genius, Noel Burrows had figured out a way to make sure he was always his daughters favorite: by making sure no one else could speak to her. Every employee of the Burrows household was instructed to never speak more than fifty words an hour to Lee. Anyone who did so would be fired on the spot. In spite of those harsh restrictions, Lee occasionally built some familiarity with the staff.

“Jacobo? Is that you?”

“Yes,” the driver said, before adding “ma’am”. Their fifty word restriction was often complicated by the fact that they were also contractually obligated to address Lee as “ma’am”.

“Hmm. It’s good to see you again, I suppose.”

It was rare for an employee to stay in the Burrows employ for more than a year, due to their restrictive rules, but Jacobo had somehow managed. Either that or he’d been fired, his parents had forgotten they’d fired him, and then rehired him. They didn’t have a good memory when it came to the “little people”.

“You as well,” Jacobo said. “Ma’am.”

Lee stayed silent for the rest of the ride home, eventually retreating into her dusty room in an empty mansion, where the silence continued.

“What’s up Harley fam!”

Harley thundered into the house, and the house thundered right back.

“Harley!”

A wall of bodies consisting of Harley’s parents along with her three sisters and four brothers surged into the entry way. Harley dropped her bags immediately to make room in her arms for all the hugs she was about to get. She still didn’t have quite enough room, as she was tiny and her family was huge (in the numbers sense -all nine of them were just as short as she was, if not shorter). The family dog also tried to join the hug but, being a corgi, it mostly just jumped around people’s knees.

“Oh welcome home, baby,” Harley’s mother said. She had yet to adapt to her oldest child being out of the house for so long.

“Good to be back, mom,” Harley said. She leaned into the overwhelming hug for a second, and then managed to worm her way out. “But I know what you’re all really excited about.”

Harley grabbed one piece of her luggage and undid the latches. The mechanical body of Botley rolled out and unfolded itself from its travel-sized compression. Once all his limbs were in the right place, Botley looked up and waved hello to the family. Some of the young members of the family ooh’d and aah’d at the humanoid machine. The novelty of Harley’s robots had yet to wear off for most of them. Especially considering what she used it for.

“Botley, chores,” Harley commanded. The robot saluted and sped off into the house, cleaning messes wherever he found them. Some of Harley’s young siblings broke off to watch Botley work, leaving the others to help Harley with her bags and get situated in the living room. Harley kicked her feet up on the coffee table as soon as Botley was done dusting and polishing it.

“Still working on getting you guys a permanent robo-maid,” Harley said. All of Botley’s parts, sans the head, were technically on loan from the Einstein-Odinson College, under the auspices of Harley doing ‘independent research’. It was technically true, but she was only researching new ways to make her mom’s life easier.

“It’s alright, Harley,” her mother said. “We need chores around here, otherwise these kids would never get out of their beds.”

“That’s the plan,” Harley said. “They don’t want to get out of bed. I sure didn’t.”

“But I made you,” Harley’s mother said. “And that work ethic got you into that fancy college.”

“Yeah, inventing new and exciting ways to not have to get out of bed,” Harley said. “I work hard half my life so I can not work at all the other half.”

“Oh, you say that all you want,” said her mother. “I know you, Harley B Harley. You’ve got big plans.”

Harley kept her mouth shut. Of course she did, but part of having big plans was keeping them secret. It was more fun that way.