It was raining catbots and dogbots in Savior City.
Not literally.
FRYER had checked.
Twice.
Rain hammered against the windows while thunder rolled somewhere beyond the towers. Every few minutes, a flash of lightning turned the whole room white.
FRYER thought it was perfect.
He had one Savior Soda, one comfortable chair, and a brand-new electronic game he had been waiting all week to play.
The box promised:
OVER 600 LEVELS!
REALISTIC SAVIOR CITY TRAFFIC!
SEVEN SECRET DISTRICTS!
NO REQUIRED TEAMWORK!
FRYER liked that last part.
He switched on the game.
BLAST appeared beside him.
“Whatcha doing?”
“Playing a game.”
“Can I play?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I would like to enjoy it.”
BLAST considered this.
“Can I watch?”
FRYER sighed.
“Fine.”
For approximately eleven seconds, BLAST watched quietly.
Then he started bouncing.
Then pacing.
Then drumming on the furniture.
Then narrating everything FRYER did.
“YOU OPENED A DOOR!”
“Yes.”
“NOW YOU’RE WALKING!”
“Yes.”
“THERE’S A BOX!”
“I can see the box.”
“OPEN THE BOX!”
“I was going to.”
“WHAT’S IN THE BOX?”
FRYER paused the game.
“BLAST.”
“Yeah?”
“It is raining outside.”
“I noticed.”
“We are going to be indoors for several hours.”
“Probably.”
“I need you to find something to do.”
BLAST brightened.
“I’ll make snacks!”
“No.”
“I’ll reorganize your tools!”
“No.”
“I’ll improve the electrical system!”
“Absolutely not.”
BLAST reached across the table.
“I’ll get you your Savior Soda.”
FRYER looked at him.
“Carefully.”
BLAST picked up the bottle.
“FRYER. I am always—”
He tripped over the power cord.
The Savior Soda flew through the air.
FRYER watched it happen in slow motion.
“No.”
The bottle spun once.
“BLAST.”
Twice.
“BLAST.”
And emptied directly into the brand-new electronic game.
ZZZZZZT.
The screen flashed pink.
Then green.
Then every light in the room went out.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
FRYER slowly turned toward BLAST.
BLAST smiled.
“Good news.”
“What?”
“I think your game has a soda holder.”
The console exploded in light.
A glowing square opened beneath them.
FRYER had just enough time to say—
“Oh, come on.”
—and both robots disappeared.
BLAST landed first.
“WHOA!”
FRYER landed on top of him.
They were standing in the middle of a gigantic digital Savior City.
Everything looked almost right.
Almost.
Buildings floated several feet above the streets.
Traffic signs changed directions every three seconds.
A SCOPEbot repeatedly walked into the same wall.
A Bot Burger sign read:
BOT BOGGER
BLAST stared around in amazement.
“We’re inside the game!”
FRYER stared at him.
“You poured soda into my game.”
“And now we’re inside it!”
“You say those things like the second one makes the first one better.”
A giant message appeared across the sky:
PLAYER TWO HAS JOINED.
BLAST pumped both magnetic arms into the air.
“I’M PLAYER TWO!”
FRYER started walking.
“I’m finding the exit.”
BLAST followed.
The first level sent them across a collapsing bridge.
The second made them outrun twelve malfunctioning street sweepers.
The third involved a Kitchenbot, seventeen pies, and a door that absolutely refused to open.
By Level Four, FRYER had learned something important.
BLAST was terrible at video games.
BLAST had learned something equally important.
He did not care.
He jumped when he was supposed to duck.
He ducked when there was nothing there.
He collected objects that served no purpose.
He somehow acquired 43 DIGITAL SOCKS.
“Why are you collecting socks?”
“I think they’re important.”
“They are worth zero points.”
“That’s how you know they’re rare.”
Eventually they reached the final level.
A storm covered downtown Savior City.
Rain poured between the glowing buildings.
Lightning flashed around OBEY-O’s Tower.
And directly in the middle of the street stood the strangest little storm cloud FRYER had ever seen.
It wore a bright yellow raincoat.
The cloud looked nervous.
Very nervous.
BLAST stopped.
FRYER kept walking.
BLAST turned toward him.
FRYER stopped.
“No.”
BLAST grinned.
“No.”
“Hey, FRYER!”
“BLAST, we are trapped inside an electronic game.”
“I know.”
“The game is malfunctioning.”
“I know.”
“We may never get home.”
“I know.”
“And you’re about to tell me a joke.”
BLAST pointed excitedly toward the embarrassed cloud.
“I HAVE TO.”
FRYER stared at him for several seconds.
Then sighed.
“Fine.”
And somewhere outside the game, the broken console began to glow.
☁️ Today’s Shift Breakers Short continues the story downtown near OBEY-O’s Tower.
BLAST has spotted that very nervous cloud.
And, unfortunately for FRYER, he has a question.
▶️ Watch the linked Short: “What Does a Cloud Wear Under Its Raincoat?”
BLAST tells the jokes.
FRYER pays the price.
