Page 30 of A.I.AM.

Gaspar connected the VCR. Nothing happened. He reversed two cables and the projector fan started.

“Excellent work,” Gaspar whispered.

The DVD player worked, but its tray refused to open. Semu pressed the button. The tray clicked. Twiggy pressed the top. The tray hummed. Steve growled at it. The tray opened at once and struck him on the nose.

Steve sat down, offended by technology from two separate centuries.

Gaspar loaded a disc. The screen glowed blue, then displayed a menu. The animals cheered so loudly that dust fell from the rafters. Semu hugged Gaspar, Gaspar hugged the remote, and the remote changed the language to Finnish.

The menu music restarted in Finnish. Gaspar pressed BACK. Subtitles appeared. He pressed MENU. A documentary about volcanoes began. He pressed STOP. The volcano paused at the instant of eruption, filling the wall with a mountain that seemed to be reconsidering its choices. Semu signed.

“Animals, not rocks.”

Gaspar frowned at her, then found the correct documentary. A leopard appeared in tall grass. Semu sat cross-legged in the front row, clutching the tablet like a ceremonial object. The narrator took one breath. The picture froze.

No one moved. Gaspar felt every gaze settle on him. The disc skipped forward. The leopard vanished and was replaced by credits. Semu slowly turned her head.

“More episode,” she signed.

Gaspar opened the tray, cleaned the disc, and discovered a fingerprint shaped suspiciously like an alligator toe. Alvin examined the ceiling.

“We will compromise,” Gaspar said. The animals offered a counterproposal by surrounding him. Gaspar revised the schedule.

Two nature programs would be followed by two neighborhood programs, two holiday romances, and twenty minutes of shopping with no purchasing, ordering, shipping, revenge planning, or note-taking. Alvin crossed out the last four conditions with his tail.

As evening approached, the make-shift theater filled. Smaller animals occupied cushions. Birds lined tree branches. A family of goats claimed the back row and immediately began eating the back row. Volunteers brought extension cords, old speakers, and a microwave that hummed ominously when asked to make popcorn.

Gaspar tested the microwave with one bag. It inflated beautifully, spun once, and exploded at the top seam. Popcorn filled the microwave. Gaspar opened the door. Popcorn spilled out onto Gaspar. His head appeared wearing a buttery crown. Coco regarded him with admiration and pushed forward her bowl.

“Dry corn only,” Gaspar said.

Coco tipped out the remaining water from her bowl. Unfortunately, she tipped it onto the extension strip. Semu snatched the strip away before the water reached it. Twiggy snatched the projector. Gaspar snatched the popcorn. Alvin snatched the shopping tape.

The screening began at sunset.

When the shopping program came on, Gaspar did not take notes. Alvin did. His page showed a clock tower, an ice patch, and a handbag dangling from a crane. He had no idea what it meant.

After the awful romance, came another of Alvin’s shopping segments. Gaspar set a timer for twenty minutes. The presenter displayed a handbag made from an unspecified exotic material and described its timeless elegance. Alvin moved close enough to fog the screen. He opened his waterproof notebook.

“No notetaking,” Gaspar reminded him. Alvin closed the notebook. He opened a second notebook hidden beneath it. Semu removed both. Alvin opened a third notebook from beneath his tail.

When the timer rang, Gaspar stopped the tape. Alvin remained facing the blank screen. No one disturbed him. Retribution, everyone agreed, was best postponed until after snacks.

Silence followed. Steven nudged the empty bowl of popcorn toward him. He looked at the bag, looked at the microwave, and delivered the final demand with one enormous paw planted beside the bowl.

“More popcorn?” Gaspar stared at his Ghost, Nine, and the others who had gathered to watch the entertainment. “I’m in hell. If that fucking internet issue doesn’t get fixed soon, I’m jumping off a bridge.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“It’s really sad how much we’re relying on technology,” frowned Erin. She and a dozen other wives were sipping coffee in the cafeteria. No televisions were on. No computers opened. No cell phones sitting in front of them.

“I agree,” said Marie. “I’m actually enjoying this break. We’ve lost so much by relying so heavily on these stupid devices.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” nodded Claudette. “Marie, do you remember as kids Mama would kick us out of the house in the morning during summer and we’d play outside all day.”

“I remember,” smiled the oldest Robicheaux sister. “We’d take the boats out to the islands and play in our tree houses. The boys would pretend to rescue us and somehow took over our tree house in the process.”

The women all laughed, nodding their heads.