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“So that’s it down there,” I said, rather unimpressed.

“Yeah,” she said. “I thought we better take a photo up here before we forget where we are. Kabusie — so complicated!”

“Yeah and you’ve lived here, what, 12 years?”

“After Major died…” We both became silent for a minute. Then: “Well, we better get down there and take a look. I need to get you back to the house before dark so you can play with your, ahem, BD’s, heh.”

Just that one night she caught me, I think here. I’ll never live it down. Moving on: “So I still can’t go out after dark here,” I started the now old complaint. “And me 21 1/2 years old?”

“You need to get a job — *day* job. Then you can spend nights at the apartment–”

“This place comes alive at night,” I countered. “What would I do in the day?”

My *point* is — if you’ll let me finish — you’ll be too wore out to do too much mucking about afterwards. Thennnn, when you’ve saved enough money and learned — a *lot* — more about the ins and outs of these mean streets — where to be safe, what places to avoid — *then* we can think about getting you your own place. Under *my* supervision.”

“Super*vision*?” I chafed again.

“Yeah, you know. In looking for an apartment. No, I don’t mean being with you all times of the night following you around or anything; we won’t be living together any more. Truly I want to let you grow up here before kicking you out of your new nest. Mother would kill me if I let anything happen to you. You know that… *baby* brother.” The emphasis on “baby” reinforced what our mother thought of me. Still a toddler in this world, still an infant. With monkey feet that you can’t put socks on. With a crib by the bed watching robots walk past then melt into wall corners. Ro-bots.

“Okay,” I tried to put an end to this worn out discussion. “What would I do in your mind? During the day?”

She readjusted her position on the rail we were looking over, as if preparing herself for a retaliatory blow. “Wellll, you could work at that factory that makes robots we talked about. Uncle Steve could help you get a position.”

Suddenly, with the synchronous conjouring of the word robot, I realized this was fate. I *had* to work at that factory. I breathed out. “I’ll think about it,” I decided to give her.

Lexi beamed while looking down. Her master plan might work out after all. “Okay, wonderful. Now let’s go take a closer look at *Crooked*.”

(to be continued)