Rams Face

Every house had a garage. Every house had a garden. Every house had a driveway. Every house had a vehicle in it. Rams Face always washed his first. He washed it at the same time every week. It became a ritual since he was voted onto the close. He was expected to set standards. He had a life time of being punctual. His habits let him live there.

Rams Face rose at 6:38 am exactly, by his Zoomtron Electric Clock. The buzzer lasted just five seconds. He never heard it. The contact activated a hoist that pulled him out of bed. It swung him back and waited for the wall to revolve. The shower came on for exactly 7.34 minutes, then the blower dried him. Mechanical arms pulled his face into position and mechanical hands with rubber gloves brushed his teeth and combed his hair. A plastic bag burst open and the arms dressed him. A hoist whisked him into the kitchen. By 6:53 Rams Face was ready for breakfast.

A pre-chopped meal was slid down on rollers from the oven. An automatic knife and fork unit fed him. At 7:03 his face was wiped and dried. The plate dropped through a hole in the table to a waiting bin. The chair reversed and sped him towards the door. He stopped. A capsule descended from the ceiling. He vanished in a flash.

The garage door opened as he landed on the floor. Sunlight from between Number 38 and Number 39 reflected from the roof rack of his, Great Plains Yakker. Sunshine filled the garage. The sprinkler started. Little rainbows shimmered above the lawn. They appeared and disappeared as water particles drifted above the grass. A rainbow arched across the lawn from shadows of the house. Swallows and summer birds dared aerobatics. Happy faced electric dwarfs counted a pot of gold, while butterflies weaved in genteel breezes.

Rams Face always started with the garden. At 7:06 Rams Face contacted Franco. Franco was a mechanical robot over two metres in height. He could stretch to six when doing the outside windows. Franco helped with the housework and with the gardening. He stood in the crouch position holding a shovel and weeding tool in each hand. Franco picked up Rams Face and placed him onto his shoulders. Franco moved forward into the daylight. He looked left, right and left again. Censing nothing was coming at him up the garden path, or from across the rose bushes between Number 64, Franco signalled to Rams Face with a pointed finger. He pressed a button. Rams Face said the first things of the day

"All clear for gardening. Dig 'em up, Franco."

At 7:43 Franco finished the garden. He tiptoed through the tulips back to the garage. A bag of unwanted foliage swung below Rams Face. Franco came to a stop beside the Great Plains Yakker. He took up his stance. At 7:46 Rams Face did the something for himself. Franco handed him the hose, turned and went into the garage. Rams Face sprinkled pressurised water onto the Great Plains Yakker. Heat from the sun, on face clips and surgery gave Rams Face a smile. He stared up from the task. At 7:47 Franco started up the cement mixer. At 7:48 the first signs of life were appearing on the close.

Dew fell from the camouflaged antennae next door to him at, "The Larssons." Static chatter came from the sand bag complex of bunkers that covered the whole house. A Big Log Shunter was parked underneath the netting beside the trench.