"But you need not search all the tunnels," said Splinter.
Leonardo shrugged, "No. Just the one Raph's in."
"Water only flows in one direction."
Michelangelo scratched his head, "But how can that be?"
"Think, my son, every river flows into the sea."
Leonardo swung round, glaring at his master, "You mean you let us spend the whole night searching all over the place when you knew all along that that's where he would be?"
Michelangelo shook his head in awe, "Master, sometimes your logic is awesomely inscrutable."
"Nothing is certain, my sons, however, while you were searching, I was meditating, and I saw your brother." Leonardo bowed, accepting what his master said. The rat continued. " At the moment he has a strong need for nurture, and when our needs are known, only then can they be answered. He has returned to the source of life in order to find rest and renewal. Before you are reunited with him, you must also do the same."
"Do the same?" said Michelangelo.
"Rest and renew," said Donatello.
"Eat and sleep, Mike," Leonardo told him.
"Oh, excellent notion. I don't have to be told twice."
"Where did April and Casey get to?" Leonardo asked.
Splinter shook his head, "I tried to send them home but they would not go, they would not be reassured about Raphael. They have returned to the construction site to see if they can locate Shredder from there."
***
It was dawn. The first rays of the sun came washing through the rain-streaked window of Galatea's little house. The cushion she had slept on was back on the chair, the fire was stoked and the kettle was boiling. Raphael lay back in the bed and turned to stare at Woody the cat, still curled by his side. "Hi, cat," he said, stroking Woody's head. "Huh, I feel silly, talking to a cat."
"Don't be," said Galatea who had just come wandering in. "I do it all the time. It's no sillier than talking to a turtle.
Raphael looked at Galatea who somewhat resembled a drowned rat. Her hair and clothes were dripping wet, but it didn't seem to bother her. "At least I talk back," he said.
"So does Woody, he just doesn't use words. How do you feel this morning?"
"Uh...hungry!" he sat up in the bed and took stock of his injuries. He could have been a whole lot worse. His eyes had come into focus and his ears had stopped ringing.
"Oh, good. I've cooked up a big potful of oatmeal with added granola and sultanas and pecans, to give you extra energy."
Raphael frowned and sat down at the small table, "Your cooking style reminds me of someone."
Galatea ladeled some into bowls and they begin to eat. "Good?"
Raphael shrugged, "It's ok."
"Only ok?"
"Well, it's nice, you know, it's just lacking a little something."
Woody the cat jumped down from the bed and came purring around Galatea's ankles. She poured him a bowl of milk. "See? He didn't have to say a word and I knew just what he wanted. Anyway, I haven't introduced you; this is my cat, Driftwood, Woody for short. He was a little like you, I found him on the beach, washed up."
"Watch who you're calling washed up."
"I mean-you know-flotsam."
"Hey, would you mind laying off the insults till after I've finished eating?"
"Don't be so thin-skinned. I'm just telling you about my pal Woody, ok? We're a team. He does rats. With the sewer so close I have a bit of trouble with rats."
"Rats, huh?" said Raphael. "That rings a bell."
"And my name is Galatea Gaia, and I still don't know yours."
Raphael shrugged hopelessly. "That makes two of us. Weren't there any clues? Did I have any ID on me?"
"Only these," said Galatea, taking down one of the sais from the mantlepiece. She pointed out the "R" engraved on the hilt. "Look there; I think you start with an "R". Ratso? Rastus?"
"I don't think I'm either of those."
"Here," she said, handing him a cup, "have some herbal tea. It will help you recover. Like you said last night, you're an injured turtle." As she gave Raphael the cup she dripped water over him and the table.
"Did you just take a bath with your clothes on?"
"It's raining out there."
"Ever heard of a raincoat?"
"Who can be bothered? Besides, they give me claustrophobia."
"You want a towel or something? Or do they give you claustrophobia too?"
"I like the rain, it feels good, the rain...the sea...it's how things were meant to be."
Raphael leaned back in his chair and looked closely at his hostess. It was then that he noticed that Galatea was wearing mismatched shoes. "Don't your feet like to be seen wearing the same outfit?"
Galatea looked down at her shoes, apparently not worried about them belonging to different pairs. "Huh? Oh. I never could get the hang of shoes."
"I think you were born about a thousand years too late. Other than weird dressing, what do you do round here for a laugh?"
Galatea sipped at her
tea. "Well, it depends on the sea, really. On good days, I collect
seaweed to fertilize my herb and vegetable garden. I tend a couple
of oyster beds, though they can be a bit dangerous. When the wind's in
the wrong direction it blows effluent from the sewer into
them. I've had
some devastating food poisoning. The rest of the time I rescue damaged
birds and animals from the sea."
"Damaged? Like "did you get the number of the boat that hit me?"
"More like "did you get the number of the tanker that dumped its oil on me?"
***
April and Casey had returned to the building site, searching for clues that they hoped might lead them to Raphael. Neither of them had slept, and although their body clocks were giving them their morning adrenaline hit they were feeling somewhat the worse for wear. Casey peered blearily at April, "Why don't you go home and get some sleep?"
"Because I have to be at work in fifteen minutes. Why don't you go home and get some sleep?"
"You have to be at work? You're kidding! You haven't slept all night. How are you supposed to look good on the tv with no sleep?"
"You're right! I'll just ring my boss and say "I'm sorry, I can't work today" and he'll say "why not?" and I'll say "because I didn't get any sleep last night, I was looking for a friend of mine; he's a turtle."
"Could be tricky, I guess."
"I'm serious, Casey, why don't you go get some sleep?"
"Because I'm just as worried about Raph as you are. But don't ever tell him I said that. And I've got a feeling Shredder's here somewhere, and if we find Shredder, I think we'll find Raphael."
April nodded. "I've gotta go," she said, "there's my team." The Channel 3 news crew had just arrived and was setting up in front of a small stand containing a computer work station with a large, specially designed, user friendly keyboard, containing only a few large keys.
Casey watched as the makeup man frowned and went to work on April's face. "You're working here today?"
"Francis Dolittle's opening some new computer on the construction site," said April, nearly driving the makeup man into a hissy fit when she wouldn't hold still.
"In the good old days, politicians used to lay foundation stones," said Casey, wincing at the cloud of hairspray the surrounded April.
"Oh, this is some new gee whizzy computer that controls a bunch of slave robots. There are terminals all over the construction site, and whenever a worker needs a hand, all he has to do is call up a robot."
"What do the unions think of this?"
"They love it. There's less risk of injury if the robots are doing the heavy stuff."
The sound man arrived and attached April's mike. "Hi, April, thought you'd slept in."
"Not a chance," said April, ignoring the grin on Casey's face.
As she checked her levels and did some backgroud work and "nods" April watched Francis Doolittle arrive. She could see the politician with Mr Hideo, who was showing her the operation of the new keyboard. Having glanced at the keypad for about three tenths of a second, Francis was quite rightly of the opinion that she was being patronised. A retarded gnu could operate this computer without instructions.
"Here," said Hideo
indicating the numerical keys on the pad, "the operator keys in his code
number. Actually, any five digit number would do, but in order to
learn more accurately how and by which persons the robots are most particularly
used, we have assigned to each worker a code
number. On this
special occasion, perhaps you would like to use the special number of five
zeroes."
Casey was bored with the tv crew and with all possibility of watching a politician make speeches. "Hey April, while you do your stuff here, I'm going to look around a bit more. If you're gone by the time I get back, I'll meet you at Splinter's." He slid off, leaving April with Francis and her opening ceremony.
The politician was using the computer terminal like a dias. A red ribbon with a flamboyant bow tied in it was wrapped around the base of the terminal. Doolittle puffed herself out to begin her speech. "Ladies and gentlemen...fellow workers of America, by toil and hard labour we have made this country great. Single-handed we have raised the most impressive cities on the Earth. Now, no longer single-handed, but with the help of robot slaves, we are about the raise the most impressive cities under the Earth." As she spoke, she placed her fingers on the keyboard and began to type in the five zeroes as Hideo had instructed. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my very great pleasure to present..." Her voice faded and her eyes unfocussed for a moment. It might have been a petit mal event. Hideo whispered a word into her ear and she continued; "...the labourobot."
From beneath the stand
the machine unfolded itself; a blue collar robot. It was a short,
heavy looking machine with a low centre of gravity and several very powerful
looking arms, equipped with surprisingly delicate hands. Its head
seemed to be all camera, surmounted with an antenna array that resembled
a mop of hair, or one of those optical fibre lamps that change colour.
It extended a hand to the politician and they shook hands. The robot accepted
a pair of scissors, and as it cut the red ribbon the politician finished
her speech: "I declare this site open, to man and machine."