Do Warehouse Agents Dream of Artifact Sheep?

Chapter 3

3

SOUTH DAKOTA

WAREHOUSE 13

"Alright, Claudia," said Artie through the Farnsworth, "you should just about be there."

"What's the name of this aisle I'm looking for?"

Artie cleared his throat. "I told you. The Aisle of Lonely Souls."

Claudia looked down at Artie's face in the Farnsworth. "That's the actual name?"

"If I tell you the actual name are you going to remember it?"

"Doubtful," she replied, continuing deeper into the vast, maze-like layout of the Warehouse. "So is this some sort of commentary on my complete and utter lack of a social life, Artie? Because if so, you probably could have found a more tactful . . ." She trailed off as she entered the designated aisle. "Alright, I'm here," she said, eyeing the nearest artifacts, scanning the informational readouts next to each. "What am I supposed to be doing exactly?"

"Ah." Artie's face drew closer in the Farnsworth and his voice took on the tone he used when something that Claudia was sure to find incredibly dull totally excited him. "Well then," he said, "some of the artifacts in the Warehouse need . . . more attention than others. They like to be noticed. Acknowledged. Remembered. They want to know someone is thinking about them. And if they're left alone too long, they get, ahem, irritable."

"Aww, you never told me you were an artifact, Artie. So what exactly am I supposed to do? Talk to them? Tell them stories? Give them hugs?"

"No. No! Don't touch them. They're artifacts. Unstable ones at that. Just, you know, be yourself. Spend a few minutes of your time there. Let them feel your presence. Take inventory."

"Uh-huh." Claudia glanced at a few of the artifacts on the shelf beside her. A baseball glove. A pair of champagne glasses. A rectangular glass window resting upright on the shelf. She moved closer. That was interesting. "Why couldn't you be the one to come down here and keep the lonely artifacts company?"

"Oh no, not me," said Artie. "No, a couple of the artifacts down there and I do not get along."

"What? No!" Claudia feigned shock. "And you with that charming personality of yours?"

Artie opened his mouth to retort, then growled and grumbled, and instead said, "Normally Leena takes care of the more delicate tasks like this, alright? But she isn't here today, okay? So you're taking care of it. And also because I said so. Pretend they're plants or something."

"Artie, I kill plants."

"Goodbye, Claudia."

"Did you send me down here just to get rid of me?"

Artie's face disappeared and the Farnsworth screen went dark.

"Fine then." She stuck her tongue out at the blank screen and razzberried.

Tucking the Farnsworth away, she glanced around. On the shelf near her head, her eyes fell once more on the empty baseball glove.

"Strange," she said. "Suddenly, I really want to play catch."

Shaking her head, she walked a few steps and stood before the window that she'd noticed earlier. It was about two feet wide and four feet tall, and consisted of two parts; the lower portion was meant to slide up and open. It was framed in aged wood painted white and looked as though it belonged in an old house. Her reflection was just visible looking back at her in the glass pane — bright red hair with a streak of blue. Round, pale face. Presently she stuck her tongue out once more.