Page 29 of A.I.AM.

“Figures,” he mumbled. “Let us focus on activities that do not require screens.” Semu signed rapidly.

“Screens are activities.” Beyond frustrated, Gaspar turned to his teammates, yelling at them once again.

“I’ll say it again. You assholes could help you know!”

“No, no,” smiled Nine. “You’re doing just fine and this is far too entertaining. Who needs the internet with all this?”

Gaspar frowned, then suggested reading. Steve selected a romance novel, opened it to the middle, and fell asleep on it. Alvin took a fashion magazine and tore out every page containing a handbag. He stacked them by country of origin and they all raised their brows realizing just how smart Alvin really was.

At eleven, the internet company finally answered. Gaspar snatched the receiver from the flower basket.

“Thank you for calling,” said a technician. “Have you tried turning the router off and on?”

Gaspar looked into the office. The router was no longer on the desk. A trail of cables led through the window, around the bell, under the flattened chairs, and toward the pond. Far away, Alvin’s trolley gave a weak electric chirp.

“Seriously, dude? I’ll call you back,” Gaspar said.

The router was found at noon inside Semu’s enclosure, where it had been installed beneath a cardboard sign reading MORE. Semu insisted she had rescued it. Gaspar insisted routers did not need rescuing. Semu pointed out that it had been left alone in an office with hold music, and Gaspar conceded the philosophical point. Outsmarted by a gorilla.

He carried the router back while a procession formed behind him. Semu carried the tablet. Twiggy carried three cardigans and the toy trolley. Steve carried nothing but expectations. Coco carried the wet corn. Alvin followed with the fashion pages tucked under one foreleg.

Gaspar plugged everything in. Lights blinked. Everyone leaned forward. One green light appeared, followed by a second, followed by a red light that seemed almost proud of itself.

“No connection,” Gaspar said.

The room erupted. Semu slapped both hands over her face. Twiggy trumpeted into the office fan, producing a noise like a ship entering a tunnel. Steve sprang onto the desk and accidentally opened thirty-seven printer settings. Coco backed into the filing cabinet, which released every folder from A through M. Alvin climbed onto the office chair and spun slowly, surrounded by handbag photographs. Gaspar raised both hands.

“I need everyone to stop helping.” Everyone helped harder.

Gaspar retreated to the equipment shed praying for just a few moments of peace. There were retired garden tools, extension cords, radios with knobs, and the remains of Gaspar’s confidence. He shut the door, sat on an overturned crate, and listened to the animals rearrange the office outside.

A storage box above him shifted. Gaspar looked up. The box fell. He caught it, celebrated too soon, and was buried by three more boxes labeled FUNDRAISER, WINTER DECORATIONS, and DO NOT THROW AWAY, PROBABLY IMPORTANT.

From beneath the decorations, Gaspar found an old projector. It was heavy, beige, and equipped with enough vents to suggest it could cool a small factory. Another box held a VCR. A third held a DVD player with a remote taped to the top. Behind them sat shelves of VHS tapes and DVDs donated by visitors over many years.

Gaspar lifted a tape labeled FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD COLLECTION. Then he found several nature documentaries, a stack of cozy holiday romances, and a ten-hour recording of a shopping channel’s annual luxury-accessories event.

He stared at the shopping tape.

“Absolutely not,” he told the empty shed. Alvin’s eyes appeared through a gap in the door. Gaspar slid the tape behind his back.

Alvin pushed the door open. The knob struck the fundraiser box, the box tipped, and five hundred rubber wristbands poured across the floor. Gaspar took one step, rolled backward on twenty wristbands, windmilled both arms, tossed the tape into the air, and landed in a plastic kiddie pool. The shopping tape dropped neatly into Alvin’s open mouth.

Alvin backed out.

“Bring that back.”

Alvin accelerated to a speed no one had previously believed an alligator could achieve while carrying obsolete media.

Gaspar chased him into the yard with the projector cord tangled around one ankle. Semu joined the pursuit because a chase suggested programming. Twiggy joined because Gaspar was still wearing her cardigan. Steve joined because everyone else was running. Coco joined because Steve’s paper hat had fallen into her corn bowl.

“Where’s a good old-fashioned video camera when you need one,” grinned Ghost.

“We may have a solution,” announced Gaspar.

The sanctuary became a theater project. Twiggy carried the projector as delicately as a teacup. Semu gathered tapes and sorted them into piles. Steve and Coco rolled a white presentation screen out of storage, although Steve pulled left and Coco pulled right, causing the screen to open and close repeatedly like an enormous window shade with hiccups.

Alvin volunteered to manage concessions. Gaspar rejected the proposal after discovering that Alvin had priced every snack at one handbag. Instead, they erected a plain white sheet beneath a canopy of trees, providing for the needed darkness.