By Friday morning, I’d almost convinced myself the Ferris wheel incident would fade quietly into the bureaucratic void where most of my problems go to die.

  Then I saw the parking lot.

  County trucks lined up like we were preparing for a FEMA exercise. The commissioners were already arguing on the steps of the administrative building, which is never a good sign before I’ve even had coffee.

  Jake trotted beside me, balancing two gas station burritos and a cup of what he optimistically called “coffee.”

  “This is about the Ferris wheel,” he said.

  “It’s always about the Ferris wheel until it’s about the budget.”

  “Do you think we should’ve gotten Rusty a harness? Like a safety tether? A little bungee cord situation?”

  “Jake,” I said, “the robot does not need enriched vertical activity. The robot needs to not climb things.”

  We walked into the conference room. Commissioner Delgado, Commissioner Barnes, and Commissioner Avery were already seated. All three looked like they’d slept about as much as Rusty’s battery pack.

  Sheriff McCready was in the corner, performing the ancient law enforcement ritual of “pretending to read a clipboard so no one asks him to speak.”

  On the projector screen, in big block text:

  BT4-12 INCIDENT REVIEW MEETING(SUBJECT TO REVISION, LEGAL APPROVAL, AND WHATEVER PR CONSULTANT WE CAN AFFORD)

  Barnes pointed at me. “You. Explain.”

  I cleared my throat. “The Hopper climbed the Ferris wheel.”

  “Yes,” Barnes said. “We read that part. Why?”

  “In my professional opinion—”

  “Don’t you dare say enrichment,” Avery warned.

  “—a combination of autonomous path optimization, high-density litter zones, and public encouragement.”

  Delgado blinked. “Public encouragement?”

  Jake helpfully raised a burrito. “People were throwing trash at it.”

  “Into the bucket,” I corrected.

  “That’s worse,” Delgado said.

  Someone dimmed the lights. The projector changed slides.

  A photo appeared.

  Rusty.Hanging at a forty-degree angle.On the Ferris wheel arm.Like a confused metal sloth.

  Avery pressed his fingers to his temples. “My nephew sent me this at two in the morning with the caption ‘NEW BESTIE.’ Do you know how many times I had to explain to him that this is not a toy?”

  “Do we know how many views?” Barnes asked.

  I winced. “On that one video? A little over seventy thousand.”

  The room sucked in a collective breath.

  Avery groaned. “Seventy thousand people think our waste management pilot program is… cute.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Jake beamed. “Well, they’re not wrong.”

  Barnes clicked to the next slide:A picture of Rusty sitting in his charging bay with a popcorn bucket balanced on his chassis, courtesy of someone in the night shift who apparently wanted to die.

  Barnes looked at me. “Control them.”

  “Technically, they aren’t out of control,” I said. “They’re doing their jobs. Efficiently.”

  “Efficiently?” Avery barked. “It scaled a carnival attraction!”

  “More efficiently than some human staff we’ve had,” Jake muttered.

  McCready snorted.

  Barnes continued, “And now we’ve been contacted by the manufacturer.”

  Jake whispered, “Is this about warranty stuff?”

  Avery shoved his tablet forward. “BiOnyx Robotics is demanding a meeting. In person. Immediately.”

  I felt something cold settle in my stomach. “They’re sending a representative?”

  “No,” Barnes said grimly. “They’re sending a team.”

  Jake whispered, “Like… a strike team?”

  McCready straightened. “Son, this isn’t a hostage negotiation.”

  “Maybe it is,” Jake said. “If they want the bunnies back.”

  Avery rubbed his face. “Please don’t call them bunnies.”

  Barnes clicked to the next slide.

  It was an email.Subject line: MANDATORY RECALL PREPARATION NOTICE — BT4 SERIES

  Jake gasped, horrified. “They’re going to recall them?”

  “They’re trying,” Barnes said. “They believe our usage environment is creating unpredictable behaviors.”

  “In fairness,” I said, “they’re not wrong.”

  Avery stabbed a finger at me. “And we need you to convince them we have everything under control.”

  Jake and I shared a look.

  McCready sighed, the sigh of a man who has accepted fate and is saving his energy for the paperwork.

  Delgado raised both hands. “Okay. Before we go any further, I need to ask: are these units dangerous?”

  “No,” I said instantly.

  Jake hesitated. “Probably.”

  Everyone stared at him.

  “I mean,” he said quickly, “they’re not dangerous-dangerous. More like… toddler-dangerous.”

  “Explain,” Barnes demanded.

  “Well, a toddler can’t kill you on purpose,” Jake said. “But they can definitely turn a normal day into a medical bill.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose.

  Avery dropped into his chair. “Wonderful. We’re running a county-wide pilot program based on the behavioral equivalence of toddlers.”

  “At least toddlers don’t climb Ferris wheels,” Barnes muttered.

  Jake raised a finger. “Uh—”

  “No,” I said. “Do not continue that sentence.”

  Avery looked at me with the expression of someone staring into a future full of liability lawsuits. “Howard. We need a plan.”

  I nodded. “I’ll meet with the BiOnyx representatives. I’ll give them the data, the logs, the behavioral patterns. And I’ll explain that the Hoppers are still operating within acceptable safety margins.”

  “And the Ferris wheel?” Barnes asked.

  “I’ll call it an anomaly.”

  Jake whispered, “You’re going to lie.”

  “I’m going to reframe,” I corrected.

  McCready finally spoke. “What’s our backup plan if the manufacturer insists on this recall?”

  The room went silent.

  Jake leaned forward. “The internet already named them Dumpster Bunnies. You try taking away a bunny from a kid.”

  Avery paled. “You think there will be backlash?”

  “Sir,” Jake said solemnly, “you will see tears.”

  I sighed. “If the recall happens, this county will go to war.”

  Barnes blinked. “War? Over trash robots?”

  I met his eyes. “You haven’t been to the transfer station after school lets out.”

  Jake nodded. “Kids pet them.”

  Avery looked physically ill.

  Barnes swore under his breath.

  Delgado folded her arms. “So the options are: prevent the recall… or face civil unrest.”

  “Small-scale civil unrest,” I clarified.“Kid-sized.”

  “That’s worse,” Avery said.

  The projector clicked again, showing a final slide:

  MEETING WITH BIONYX — TOMORROW — 9:00 AMATTENDEES REQUIRED:? Commissioner Barnes? Commissioner Avery? Sheriff McCready? Howard Anxo? Jake (Against my better judgment — Avery)

  Jake pumped a fist. “Yes! Field trip!”

  Barnes scowled. “This is not a field trip. This is damage control.”

  I stared at the slide, already feeling the future migraine settle in.

  Avery leaned forward. “Howard, one last thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “When you meet with BiOnyx… whatever you do…”

  He inhaled sharply.

  “…don’t let them know we’ve started calling them Dumpster Bunnies.”

  Jake whispered, “Too late.”