The Corner the Robot Chose

Every morning before the sun, Ansel pushes his flat boat to market. He uses a long pole. He ties up in his old place. A rope seller's boat sits on one side. A spice boat sits on the other. The spice boat belongs to Hendrik.

Ansel sells mangoes, limes and small sweet bananas. Hendrik sells pepper, dried chili and bags of star anise. They sell different things. Still, they fight over every customer.

For six years, they fight. Hendrik hangs a bright lamp over his boat. Ansel hangs a brighter one. Hendrik paints his prices on a board. Ansel paints his on a bigger board.

"Your mangoes are small," Hendrik says each day.

"Your pepper is old," Ansel says back. "Even the flies leave it alone."

The market wakes slowly. Boats bump softly together. Cooks call out. Smoke rises from the little stoves. The water smells of ginger and wet wood.

This morning, Ansel has a new toy. It is a round gray robot vacuum, no bigger than a pizza. A cousin sent it from the city. Ansel hates peels on his deck. He hopes the robot can clean them.

He puts it down and presses the button. The robot makes a happy sound. It rolls over the deck and eats a banana skin. Ansel claps.

Then the robot turns. It rolls straight to the back left corner of the boat. It stops there. It beeps three times and does not move.

"Not that way," Ansel says. He picks it up and sets it in the middle again.

The robot rolls back to the same corner. Beep, beep, beep.

Hendrik watches from his boat and laughs. "Your robot has good taste," he says. "It wants to leave your boat."

"Be quiet."

"Maybe it does not like your fruit."

Ansel says something rude. He puts the robot in a box under a table. The box beeps all morning.

By nine o'clock, the market is full. Tourists crowd the little boats with cameras and big hats. Ansel sells mangoes as fast as he can cut them. He is happy, and he forgets the robot.

Then his foot feels cold.

He looks down. Water covers his sandal. It is a thin, clear skin on the deck. It spreads from the back left corner. The same corner.

"No," he says.

He runs to the corner and kneels. A board there is dark and soft. At its edge, a bubble of water pushes up between two boards. The boat has a leak, and it is not small.

Ansel grabs a bucket and starts to throw water out. For every bucket he throws out, the river sends back two. His fruit crates stand close to the corner. Soon the bottom crate is wet.

"Hendrik!" he shouts. "Help me!"

Hendrik looks over. For a moment, his face is hard. He opens his mouth to say something clever.

Then he sees the water.

"Wait," he says. He jumps across the gap. He lands next to Ansel. "Where is the hole?"

"Under this board. I cannot see it."

"We must tip the boat. Move your crates to the other side."

"My fruit is heavy," says Ansel.

"Then move it fast."

They work together without a word. Ansel lifts crates, and Hendrik takes them from his hands. They stack mangoes on the right side of the boat. Slowly, the back left corner rises out of the water.

The leak sits above the river now. It only drips.

"I have tar," Hendrik says. He runs to his boat. He comes back with a small tin and a flat knife. "And cloth."

"I have wax," Ansel says. "For the knife handles. It keeps water out."

He gets the wax. Hendrik cuts a strip of cloth. They press the cloth on the hole. They spread tar over it. Then they rub wax on top. Their hands turn black and sticky. Their shirts are wet to the elbow.

"Hold it," Hendrik says. "Hold it for one minute."

Ansel holds. Hendrik holds beside him. They do not look at each other. They look only at the corner.

The water stops. The cloth stays dry.

Ansel sits back. His heart beats hard. "It worked," he says.

"For today," says Hendrik. "You need a new board. This one is old and soft."

"I know. I did not see it."

"The robot did."

Ansel looks at the box under the table. It is quiet now. He pulls it out and opens it. The little gray machine sits inside, patient and round.

"It tried to tell me," Ansel says softly. "All morning. The floor goes a little lower there. The robot just rolls to the low place."

Hendrik starts to laugh. It is not a mean laugh this time. It is tired and warm. Ansel laughs too. They sit on the wet deck with black hands. They laugh until the tourists stare.

A woman in a big hat leans over the rail. "Excuse me," she says. "Are these your mangoes? And are those your spices? They look wonderful together."

The two men look at each other.

"Yes," Hendrik says. "A mango and a pinch of pepper. It is our local favorite."

Ansel opens his mouth to correct him. Then he closes it.

"One box of each," he says. "Half price today. For our first customers."

They sell more that day than ever before. Hendrik tears a board in two. He writes one new sign in thick black tar. It says, MANGO AND PEPPER. TWO BOATS, ONE PRICE.

When the market closes, Ansel puts the robot in the middle. He presses the button. The little machine rolls forward and eats a banana skin. It turns left, then right. It crosses the whole dry boat. It passes the corner without a stop.

At last, it comes back to the middle and stops.

Beep.