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reasonably.
    â€œThere’s no time, Darla. We’ll have to squish it with the broom!” roared Brutus, raising the broom high.
    â€œExcuse me?” asked Code.
    â€œOh, it’s squeaking at us! Smash it quickly! I don’t want to look!” mewled Darla.
    The broom wavered dangerously back and forth, ready to crush Code at any second.
    Code knew that he had to do something immediately or he was a goner. As the broom started to fall, Code racked his brain for something, anything. Suddenly, it came to him.
    He threw his arms over his head and twisted his hands into claws.
    â€œ Rawr! ” yelled Code, unconvincingly, he thought.
    But the giants froze in place, terrified.
    â€œI am a hoo-man! Rawr! And I will … hurt you with my mighty hoo-man fists!”
    Peep hopped onto Code’s shoulder and flared her tiny wings. She flashed an angry red as Code stomped toward the giants, waving his arms as though having a fit.
    The huge broom dropped to the floor, forgotten. The giants each took a step back, gaping at each other.
    â€œAnd … and I’ve got people rabies !” shouted Code, slobbering and sputtering and frothing furiously at the mouth.
    Darla fled immediately. As Brutus turned to watch her go, Code made a dash for freedom. He scampered down the hallway, through the first door he found, and found himself in a vast, cold ballroom. He leaped over gouges and scars left on the floor by the brutal footsteps of generations of dancing robot giants. Finally, Code spotted a crack in the far wall, made a dash, and squeezed through it.
    This time he was in a room filled with giant-sized books. And on the far wall, beyond an expanse of plush, knee-high carpeting, Code saw a small wooden door. It was human-sized and painted black. To each side of it, a statue of a fierce robot giant stood guard. The surface of the door was intricately carved with an assortment of melting gargoyle-like faces. Some of the creatures seemed to be smiling with laughter, but others were screaming in terror. The whole creepy carving felt as if it were moving just a bit too slowly to see.
    Code shuddered. This foreboding door was his only hope.
    â€œWhat do you suppose the statues are guarding?” Code asked Peep. She just made a small, curious chirp.
    All around him, the crystalline castle echoed with the shouts and stomps of rapidly advancing robo-giants as they searched for one very small human being. There was no other choice. Code waded through the carpeting, pushed the ominous, coal black door open, and stepped across the threshold.

5
Fabrication Tank
    The Great Disassembly:
T–Minus Four Days
    Code found himself in a huge cylindrical room. Shafts of sunlight cascaded through a glass dome three stories overhead. Swirling dust motes danced in the empty air. Bookshelves, stocked with thousands of crumbling tomes, stretched upward, crisscrossed by spindly ladders. A rickety old machine dominated the middle of the room. It looked like a gargantuan microscope aimed at a thick slab of metal resting solidly on the ground.
    Peep scurried out of Code’s shirt pocket and leaped into the air. She darted from place to place, examining everything with green beams of light. Safe for the moment, Code shoved his hands into his pockets, leaned against the door, and exhaled deeply.
    Just then a wobbly, wheeled robot creaked out from behind a pile of musty books. Startled, Code yanked his hands out of his pockets, dropping a piece of paper. It was the drawing of the atomic slaughterbot he had made in school. Before he could pick it up, the curmudgeonly robot snatched it away.
    In a slow, windy voice it said, “Hmm … what have we here? The fabrication tank was last activated four hundred and ninety-two years ago. Haven’t seen a human in quite some time. But we’d be happy to make this for you, sir.”
    â€œSorry?”
    â€œHold,” said the robot curtly. It adjusted a pair of cracked