The Morning Rounds

Number Artist glided through the morning sky above Story Book Metropolis, blue light shimmering around his gloved hands. His black supersuit caught the early sunlight, the glowing blue numbers across his chest pulsing steadily.

"Perfect day for the annual art show preparation," he said to himself, adjusting his blue sunglass goggles.

He swooped down toward his Computer Art Gallery, the massive fortress that dominated the city center. The crayon tower gleamed orange in the sunrise, while the marker tower stood tall in vibrant green. The pencil tower's yellow surface sparkled, and the pen tower's silver walls reflected the morning light. At the center, the paintbrush tower rose highest of all, its rainbow-colored exterior shifting through every hue imaginable.

Landing gracefully on the main platform, Number Artist pressed his palm against the security scanner. The fortress doors slid open with a soft electronic hum.

"Time to check on my masterpieces," he announced, stepping inside his beloved gallery.

When Colors Go Wrong

Inside the gallery, Number Artist stopped dead in his tracks. His jaw dropped behind his blue sunglass goggles.

The Starry Night painting was spinning like a washing machine, stars flying off the canvas and zooming around the room. A bronze sculpture of a dancer had somehow sprouted bright pink polka dots and was doing the chicken dance. Worst of all, his prized rainbow watercolor was now completely gray.

"What in the world?" he gasped.

Suddenly, a small sparrow with bright yellow feathers zipped past his head, chirping frantically.

"Help! Help!" the sparrow squeaked. "Everything's going bonkers!"

Number Artist had never heard a sparrow talk before, but stranger things were happening today. The bird perched on his shoulder, trembling.

"I'm Pip," the sparrow said. "I was just flying by when that big computer screen in your main hall started flashing red and making awful beeping sounds. Then all the art went crazy!"

Number Artist's heart sank. His central computer system controlled everything in the gallery. If it was malfunctioning, the annual art show tomorrow would be a complete disaster.

"We have to get to the control room," he said, launching into the air.