First thing in the morning you line up against the hallway wall for a surprise field trip. Your grade gets this mystery field trips often. Usually they end up at parks or museum. Everyone in the line mumurs confusion. Jake Turnip says that you are going to the zoo. When he says it, he’s so sure that clenches both of his little fat hands. So that’s what you believe.

As you climb aboard you see the French girl sitting by herself, so you sit with her. Immediately you know that this was a mistake. From the back of the bus, you hear your name start to get chanted. You look back and see Matt Murphy and Randy Dugan gleefully laughing and pointing at you.

“… and the French girl sitting in a car. E – M – B – R – A – S – S – E – R!”

Randy Dugan is too smart for his own good.

Neither of you say much. You just look out the window. She keeps a little smile on her face the whole time as if she knows something in French that you can’t translate. Eventually the bus squeals to a halt and you pile off.

You are taken into a large factory and given little white jumpsuits and Goggles. A small patch with a cartoon brain on it and the words “Solution Robotique” are on each of your breast pockets.

On the floor of the factory, you have to keep your hands to your sides. Large robotic arms whirr and crash around you. They solder and lift parts moving slowly down a conveyer belt. You are surprised by how clunky they seem. They jerk violently before they move, as if they are being jarred awake from a deep sleep. These aren’t the robots set to waltz music on the science shows. These aren’t even lawnmowers.

The French girl’s father shows you around. He is tall and thin and has a long and thin nose. You feel like half his voice comes out of his mouth and the other half is split between each nostril. You find it hard to hear his thick French accent over the loud racket of the production line. Finally he asks if you have any questions. You raise your hand.

Do you have any robots with legs? you ask.

“Yes, we have not made legs,” he smiles a fatherly smile. “But you see, we have no robot pants. If I made them legs, they would be, how you say, porky-piggin’ it.'”

The French father laughs at himself but the French girl looks embarrassed. “It is a little joke, you see,” she whispers to you. “He thinks it’s funny that cartoons have no pants.”

After some confusion, Jake Turnip speaks up.

“Do you think robots will have legs in the future?”

“The future?” The French father puts a finger to his lips and taps them, three, four, five times. He gives a dark look down the convulsive assembly line. Then he smiles. “The future is a strange and unpredictable place, full of twisted cyborg versions of people you loved and will then struggle to see any remaining humanity in.”

Even as a child, you recognize that this is an odd thing to say to children.