Chapter Three: The Manual Gets Grumpy
Simon had hoped that locating the manual—or at least detecting its presence via humming or blinking—would be the hardest part of the day. He was wrong.
Doug, naturally, had known he would be wrong all along.
"Simon," Doug said, pushing the shopping cart through a corridor of rooftop machinery, "you’re about to meet the manual. And yes, it is grumpy."
Simon blinked. "Grumpy? How… does a manual get grumpy?"
Doug smirked. "Ever had a book glare at you for using a pencil instead of a pen? Multiply that by the size of a small star cluster, and you’re getting close."
The orb floated ahead, pulsing in rhythmic flashes that made Simon feel vaguely seasick. It darted in patterns that seemed almost deliberate, almost like… it was writing in the air.
"Is it… communicating?" Simon asked.
Doug shrugged. "Depends. If you understand blinking Morse code for cosmic sarcasm, yes."
The orb paused above a rusty vent and emitted a low hum, vibrating the shopping cart wheels under Simon’s hands. Then it shot a tiny beam of light at Doug’s backpack.
Doug yelped and jumped back. "Simon! Step back! It’s scanning the cart!"
Simon stepped back, heart hammering. "Scanning… what?"
"Everything," Doug said grimly. "It’s probably checking for unauthorized humans, loose cat hair, or—most importantly—bananas."
Simon frowned. "Bananas?"
Doug nodded. "Do not underestimate the universe’s attitude toward fruit. Especially fruit near manual-related crises."
The orb hovered closer, and for a fleeting second, Simon thought he saw letters swirl in the light:
STOP TOUCHING THE POOL CHAIRS
"Well," Doug muttered, "at least it has manners."
Simon gulped. "So… what now?"
Doug reached into his backpack and pulled out a small silver rod covered in buttons, levers, and inexplicable blinking lights. "Now we negotiate."
"Negotiate… with a book?"
"With a manual that can turn cities into custard," Doug said, "negotiation is preferable to running, screaming, or fainting. Those options are… suboptimal."
The orb blinked rapidly, almost impatiently. Then, with a tiny pop like static electricity, it hovered over the silver rod. Simon flinched. Doug’s eyebrows rose.
"It wants… feedback," Doug said slowly. "We have to answer. It’s… asking us questions."
Simon swallowed. "Questions? What kind of questions?"
Doug looked at him, eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and terror. "Impossible questions. Cosmic questions. Questions that would make a mathematician cry and a philosopher rethink everything they’ve ever believed. And yes… probably some very silly multiple-choice ones."
Simon groaned. "Great. I hate multiple-choice."
Doug grinned. "Then welcome to Chapter Three, Simon. Prepare to be lectured, quizzed, and possibly mildly insulted by a manual with more personality than most people you know."
Simon looked at the blinking orb, the humming rod, and the impossibly wide city skyline beyond the rooftop. He took a deep breath.
And then he realized that no matter how grumpy the manual got, there was no turning back now.
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