Punctuality Pal

  General Bob Bitwill groaned and grumbled under his breath as he was pulled from sleep. The screeching SKRT SKRT SKRT SKRT SKRT SKRT SKRT SKRT SKRT SKRT SKRT SKRT SKRT SKRT SKRT of his alarm clock was set at an inhumane volume. Even so, he had some vague recollection of hearing that sound for a long time. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and checked the time. It was 10:13 am. The alarm had been going off since 9 am, and his very important meeting at the Pentagon had started at 10:00 am. But instead of feeling worried or rushed, Bob grinned. After a lifetime of being late, he’d finally found a solution. 

  After scrolling on his phone for a few minutes to check the day’s news, Bob got out of bed. He turned off the alarm clock, then treated himself to a leisurely shower. Next, he put on his military uniform, making certain that every part of it was perfect. Satisfied with what he saw in the mirror, Bob headed out. 

  It was just past 11 am when Bob found himself creeping down the hallways in the inner sanctum of the Pentagon. The last thing he needed was for someone to see him. He crouched behind a planter and peered into a large conference room. It was packed with high-ranking military and government officials. Bob frowned. Every meeting at the Pentagon was important, but this one was supposed to be pretty routine. Half of the people in the conference room weren’t on the original invite, as the subject matter of the meeting wasn’t critical enough to involve them. He had no idea what would’ve changed to make their presence necessary. 

  The meeting participants were all focused on the presenter at the head of the table. Bob smiled, just as he always did when he saw this marvel of science and technology. To the untrained eye, the person running the meeting was General Bob Bitwill. But Bob knew who it really was. It was his Punctuality Pal, a revolutionary new product from the Bubbo Robotics Corporation. Designed for people who were habitually late, a Punctuality Pal was a custom robotic facsimile that could show up in your place. Perfect for early morning meetings, for taking the wife to the farmers market, or going to watch the kiddo’s Saturday morning soccer match, your Punctuality Pal was programmed with enough knowledge to competently act as you when you weren’t available or, in Bob’s case, were sleeping through your alarm. Controlled by a simple phone app, when you finally showed up, you just sent a signal to the Punctuality Pal and it excused itself to the restroom, allowing you to step in without anyone realizing a swap had been made. 

  While Bob was pleased to see his Punctuality Pal performing so well, something on the screen behind it caught his eye. The presentation it was supposed to be giving was about ways to convince Congress to give more money to the defense department, but instead of numbers on the screen, there were missile trajectory charts. Thousands of them. 

  Bob pulled out his phone and opened the Punctuality Pal app. Whatever his Punctuality Pal had gotten himself into, it was far beyond the scope of what it was programmed to handle. Bob pressed the button to trigger the switch. It could take a maximum of 30 seconds for the Punctuality Pal to make an excuse to leave the room. Bob’s panic level rose as those seconds ticked by slowly. The Punctuality Pal made a joke of some kind, followed by a hand gesture of something exploding. Everyone in the room laughed. 

  “What in the world is going on?” Bob muttered. 

  The Punctuality Pal pressed a few buttons on the computer. Suddenly, the number of missile trajectory charts on the screen quadrupled. Everyone in the conference room cheered, and the Punctuality Pal smiled, then picked up a phone and dialed a number. 

  Bob checked the time. It had been almost 90 seconds since he sent the command for the Punctuality Pal to excuse itself to the restroom, but the thing was showing no signs of having received the signal. Bob pressed the button again, and then a third time. Still nothing. Bob’s heart pounded in his chest. Something was very wrong here. The Punctuality Pal was deep in conversation with whoever was on the other end of the phone call.

  Stepping out from behind the planter, Bob paused. Rushing into that room and revealing that he’d been letting a robot impersonate him in high-level Pentagon meetings would be the end of his career. He’d be lucky if the worst thing that happened to him was a court-martial. But he could feel it in his guts; whatever was happening in that room was too important to ignore. 

  Striding forward, Bob flung the conference door open. As he did, he heard the final words of the Punctuality Pal’s conversation. 

  “Thank you, Mr. President, I agree. We’ll update you with damage assessments once all the missiles reach their targets.” 

  “Hold on there!” Bob yelled as the Punctuality Pal hung up the phone. 

  Everyone turned to look at him, and confusion swept through the room. They then looked back at the Punctuality Pal. It smiled and gave a slight nod. 

  “If you’ll please excuse me, I have a bathroom emergency,” it said. 

  The Punctuality Pal exited the conference room, and again all eyes turned back to Bob. 

  “I can ex-”

  Before he could complete his words, phones and computers buzzed with emergency alerts. The foreign nation was counterattacking. 

  The war was on.