After Dark (Night at the Museum)

Chapter 2

"Dad? What are you doing here?" My 'successful' father stood by Rexy. Dr. McPhee stood next to him. "What's going on?" As I looked around, I saw everything was in boxes. Teddy still stood there, however.

"Progress," said Dr. McPhee in his British accent, "So they tell me. The future. Behold. Natural history, version 2.0." He walked over to a hologram machine and pressed a button. A holographic Teddy rode up on a holographic Texas.

I looked at Dad. "You shouldn't be here," he whispered to me, "You need to go home. Nicky's by himself."

He was interrupted by the holographic Teddy. "Welcome," he said, "To the Museum of Natural History. Where history comes to life! Step up! Ask your question! Then, let the next little boy or girl have their turn."

I looked at McPhee, who nodded at me. "Um.. Okay.. Where were you born?"

"Right here, in New York City, on 20th street. October 27th, in the year of our Lord, 1858." After answering my question, it started glitching uncontrollably. McPhee switched it off.

"Blah, blah, blah," he said, "History, history. Learning, learning. Changing America one child at a time."

"It's great," said Dad as McPhee walked away, "So, you're adding some new interactive exhibits?"

"No, Mr. Daley. Not adding. Replacing the old exhibits."

"Where are they going?" I asked, concerned and confused.

"Away," he said, "We are getting rid of all this junk. The deer armors, the wax workings, and some of the shabby items, like this scrawny little monkey." McPhee picked up Dexter, I was hanging halfway out of his own shipping box.

"You should be careful, he's a Capuchin," Dad said, reaching out for Dexter.

McPhee pulled him away, "It's a monkey."

"He's a rare breed," Dad argued, "He's a Capuchin. He's not just a monkey."

"Monkey, then, I said monkey. Why be specific? When you're throwing away a monkey, you don't need their Latin name."

"Are you throwing away, or are you moving him?" I interrupted.

"What are you? The primate garbage police? Let it go, baby." He rolled his eyes at me and walked away. McPhee never exactly liked me.

"Who's idea was this?" dad asked, following McPhee.

"Me, of course, I'm in charge. Me & the board," he replied, "Mainly the board. Anyway, why do you care?"

"No, it's just.. People love this stuff!" I could tell Dad didn't want to sound so obvious.

McPhee snickered, "People, Mr. Daley, love 'what's next.' You should know that. You left."

Dad sighed, "I had a situation change. My business took off and-"

He was interrupted by McPhee's obnoxious voice, "Yeah, you became a success. So would I if I was a night guard."

"Where are these guys going?" Dad asked, dropping the subject.

"Deep storage," McPhee replied. He seemed uncomfortable talking about it, "Federal archives."

"Where's that?" Dad asked, worried.

"The Smithsonian," I muttered.

"Yes," said McPhee, "The Smithsonian. Washington D.C."

"There's gotta be something we can do," I said, stepping up next to Dad.

"It's done," McPhee exclaimed, "They leave tomorrow morning. It's over."

He walked out of the museum, leaving both Dad and I speechless. Tomorrow morning? What about the tablet? We won't ever see them again.