Realm of the InterNutter

Chapter Thirty-six.
(The journey home, Are we there yet?, Reflections on the weekend war, and Rabbit’s little revelation)

Sometimes, Peter wished that he could have walked the great automaton Delilah across the Atlantic. The gigantic giraffe had made short work of the vast distances in Africa, and she promised to be just as fast over the plains of the United States.

But despite that, his children were… well... children.

“Are we there, yet?”

“Three, we are fresh onto the East coast.

Chapter Thirty-ffive.
(Good news, Better news, A bad bargain, and Nothing to fear)

Admiral Walter hadn't seen much of the Paddy since Peter had gone away with all his mechanical monst-- his machines. Hadn't heard much out of her since her suggestion for apology. Now she came into his office with something plaguing her mind. She was wan and weak. Definitely green about the gills. And prone to cling to sturdy furniture when it was available.

"Whatever's bit you?" he asked.

"...may

Chapter Thirty-four.
(The war is over, An absence of news, Worries abound, and Kindness from others)

Iris was away at tea with the Pembrookes when the next telegram arrived from Egypt. Mrs Cambridge saved it for her, of course. Another simple message.

Becile defeated. Assisting Babclock in cleanup, rebuilding. Coming back soon.

Infuriatingly absent of any heartening information. Such as whether his children had survived the battle, or how well he had fared. Or if the generic, factory robots had performed as

Chapter Thirty-three.
(An attempt at concealment, A missed dinner, Plans for war, and The Admiral’s weakness)

Iris made sure her presentation was spotless. The last thing she needed was for gossip to get about. Not until Peter was ready to steal the Admiral's march. It would serve the old man right for Peter to come to dinner with a spouse in tow.

The one she worried about the most was Mrs Cambridge. She seemed to have vision that rendered people transparent

Chapter Thirty-two.
(A moment of delight, Urgent summons, Becile strikes again, and Desperate measures)

Peter had never known such delight, and therefore wanted very little else. Alas, the demands of his body made it loudly known that his stomach had dearly missed its lunch. Iris must have been perishing, too, for her own belly answered his hungry snarl with its own.

The plentiful lunch, since gone cold, provided them both ample sustenance. He derived some great glee from feeding dear Iris some