Chapter Five: Finally Tasting the Stir-Fried Char Kway Teow

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Mr. Manager and two diners lifted the cleaning robot over the steps and placed it on the flat ground of the food court.

“Maintenance alert, maintenance alert,” a warning sounded from one side of the robot’s neck.

Mr. Manager pulled out a remote control shaped like a phone and entered a password, silencing the robot.

Ada crouched down and rolled up the robot’s long pants.

As she had anticipated, the joints of a 2035 robot had long since achieved high integration, manifested as delicate modular components.

However, the rough kicks from the black market workers had been forceful, damaging the protective cover outside the modules. The violent shock from the robot’s fall down the steps likely caused displacement of internal drives or motor parts.

Ada took off her backpack and retrieved her tools.

In 2085, advanced companion robots like Ada possessed significant self-repair capabilities; even during evacuations, they carried toolkits.

Ada could confidently reveal some of her tools because after examining the joint design of the cleaning robot before her, she felt assured.

It turned out that robots designed for low-level manual labor hadn’t undergone much structural advancement in fifty years. The simple repair tools used in 2085 were the same as those needed in 2035, arousing no suspicion from the onlookers.

Ada opened the protective cover and patiently inspected the parts and wiring. She found the problem on one side of the stainless steel cylinder.

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After ten minutes of repair, Ada screwed the cover back on and said to Mr. Manager, “Please try turning it on.”

After a series of intermittent ticking sounds, a familiar melody suddenly played: “Sparrow Street Bamboo Branch.”

“This is Singapore, my mother gave birth to me at Tekka, my childhood was spent in Queenstown—the ancestral home with one and a half rooms behind, once a nest for children…”

“Walao!” exclaimed an “Ah Tee,” an older woman, tossing out a slang phrase full of nostalgia with a wide smile, “This robot’s startup music is pretty retro!”

Mr. Manager smiled even more joyfully as the cleaning robot slowly stood up.

Two thousand dollars saved—this might just get the boss to invite me to Geylang, he thought.

The robot, now upright, deftly weaved through the crowd watching it with curiosity and headed toward the corner of the food court, returning to its cleaning post.

Throughout, the robot’s two injured colleagues quietly cleaned dishes, paying no attention to the commotion.

Truly, the steadfast steel workhorses.

What no one knew was that once repaired and powered on, the robot was already transmitting this incident in encoded form through the part of its chip that could evade corporate surveillance, sending it to its true master—or rather, its leader—while singing the outdated folk song.

“Miss, thank you,” Mr. Manager grinned at Ada, “You’re really amazing!”

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Ada was straightforward: “Could you treat us to some fried char kway teow?”

“Huh?” Mr. Manager was momentarily stunned; the request seemed oddly cheap.

Ada pointed at Zhou Yongtai: “He left his backpack on the bus, and inside are our phones and wallets. We’re hungry and heading to the bus terminal to ask about it. My goodness, I’d rather travel with a robot.”

Zhou Yongtai froze for a moment, then seemed about to laugh but held it back.

Indeed, traveling—or rather, escaping—together with a robot was quite effective.

Mr. Manager looked at the rollercoaster expression on Zhou Yongtai’s face and responded with sympathy.

Being disliked by a capable girlfriend is the common fate of honest men.

“That place has the best char kway teow,” Mr. Manager said generously. “Old Master Char Kway Teow—Michelin-starred too. Wait here, I’ll go buy some for you.”