Free Swell Foop by Piers Anthony

replied.
    You must meet our offspring
    A third machine appeared, smaller than the other two.
    "You have a baby!" Breanna exclaimed, delighted. "What's his name?"
    Its screen lighted. § com ponent §
    "Hello, Ponent," Breanna said. "Welcome to the club." The small screen brightened and turned pink. The little machine was a bit shy as yet.
    Breanna turned back to Passion. "I need to find the Ring of Fire, and it's not where it is supposed to be. Can you help me?"
    No Passion scripted with evident regret.
    Her spirits sinking, Breanna tried once more. "Ponent, maybe you can help me. Where do you think I should look for the Ring of Fire?"
    § will you take a cookie? §
    "A cookie?" Breanna asked, surprised.
    © He insists on giving out cookies © Passion scripted fondly.
    "Young folk do like cookies," Xeth reminded Breanna.
    "For sure! But I thought they liked getting them, not giving them."
    MACHINES DON'T EAT THINGS Pewter printed.
    © Once you accept his cooking, he will always know you. ©
    "Oh. Okay, Ponent, give me your cookie."
    An oblong image of a cookie appeared on the little screen. Breanna reached down, and it jumped onto her hand. It was decorated like a printed circuit board, with a pastry foundation, colored sugar wires, and raisin resistors. She took a byte, and it was delicious. "Thank you. Now what is your input on the Ring of Fire?"
    The little screen flickered as the machine pondered. Then it steadied. § i dont have big data banks yet so i have to figure things out a little at a time. i think if you cant find it where its supposed to be and it isnt where it isnt supposed to be it must be hidden where its supposed to be so you cant find it so you should look again maybe harder. §
    Breanna considered. "Does that makes sense?" she asked the others.
    DOUBTFUL
    POSSIBLY
    "Ludicrous!" Metria snapped.
    "Yes," Xeth said.
    "Well, it makes sense to me," Breanna decided. "I'm going to go look again."
    "I'll take you back," Metria said. "I love to see mortals make fools of themselves in vain quests."
    "Thank you, Ponent," Breanna said. "I'll go look harder."
    Then the demoness smoked up a cloud and transported them back to the demon's bathroom.
    It was unchanged. The towel and cloth still hung by the wall, and the pitcher and basin remained on the counter. No Ring.
    "Why do demons have a washroom?" Xeth asked.
    Metria laughed. "It's a joke! Demons don't need to wash. We just fuzz into smoke and leave the dirt behind."
    "So this is for mortal visitors?" Breanna asked.
    "We hardly ever have visitors. So it's just a wasted chamber."
    "Yet my sense tells me the Ring of Fire is here. Why should it be in a useless room?" Then she paused, a dim bulb blinking over her head. "So it won't be disturbed! No one ever comes here. It must be here!"
    "Except that it obviously isn't," Metria said dourly.
    "Said how?" Xeth asked.
    "Dreary, dismal, forbidding, morose, dolorous—"
    "It was the correct word the first time!" Breanna snapped.
    They both looked abashed. "Sorry about that," the demoness said.
    Breanna focused on the room. "We have to look harder. It must be here, only we can't see it."
    "Sometimes the obvious is confusing as hades," Metria said. "That's the way it is in Grossclout's class. I remember when he demanded that we figure out why new human adults don't have magic talents, and washed me out when I missed it. I didn't realize it was a trick question."
    Breanna was distracted for a moment, despite her better judgment. "But Mundanes don't have talents in Xanth. I'm the only exception I know of, and I made a special deal. It's because you have to be delivered into magic, not into science."
    "You'd have flunked out too."
    "But everyone knows—"
    "The Demon Professor says everyone has mush for brains."
    "But none of the Black Wave had talents when we came to Xanth. I didn't. Only the children who were delivered here later. So I know from personal experience that—"
    "The interpretation of personal experience is mush, he