Chapter 12

12 KLINK, KLANK, FRANK, AND WATSON KICK INTO HIGH GEAR. Frank lays out his wrenches and soldering iron, screwdrivers and pliers, hacksaw and hammer, rulers, clamps, and files. He consults his plan and directs his team. Klink prints out blueprints, charts, and formulas.

Klank hauls in bits and pieces of a bicycle, mower, and motorcycle—wires, tires, chains, and gears—from the yard. Watson raids the repair shop and the kitchen for nuts and bolts and corkscrews and magnets. Frank solders and connects, screws and bolts, hammers and files. Klink and Frank check, test, recheck and retest, and test some more.

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Time flies by without anyone noticing it. Until suddenly the fish on the wall wiggles, flips its head sideways, and starts singing, "WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS! WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS!" "Everyone under the workbench!" calls Frank. "No one can know about you guys or our project yet." Watson throws a blue tarp over everything and dives under the workbench with Klink and Klank. "Move over," beeps Klank. "You are hogging all the room." "I am not," whispers Klink. "Stop pushing," hisses Watson. "Shhhhhhhh!" says Frank, just as the door to the lab opens and— "Hello, scientists!" Watson, pushed by Klank's big foot, rolls

out from under the workbench. "Oh, hi, Grampa Al." "Dr. Watson! Good to see you... uh, playing with the new robots?" Watson jumps to his feet. "Oh, no. We are working on Science Prize stuff here. I've perfected my Peanut Butter Bubble Gum. And just wait till you see what Frank has." Klink and Klank roll, crawl, and unpack themselves from under the workbench. "Hey, boys. Good to see you again. What have you been up to all morning?" Klank hums, blinks his antenna, and answers, "I have been up to about 1.8288 meters all morning. Or, in American measurements, six feet." "Ha! Good one," laughs Grampa Al. "Except he's not kidding," says Frank. "He means it."

Klink revs his vacuum engine. "We have actually been combining atoms and anti-atoms to produce energy for Frank Einstein's invention." "Ha! Another good one. Making your own particle collider. Just like my scientist pals at CERN, who have been smashing atomic parts together for years and spending millions of dollars to do it." Grampa Al winks at Watson. "And you guys did it all in one day. With repair-shop junk. You robots are funnier than a monkey's uncle." "He's not kidding either." Frank whips the blue tarp off the object in the middle of the room. It looks like a bike from the future. Instead of pedals and gears, it has a small silver motor.