A tiny workshop hid in one corner of Maya's room: screws sorted in shoeboxes tinkled, colorful LEDs glittered in an old jam jar, and cables taped to the wall with insulating tape ran like thin, curious tendrils. On the shelf, a worn tablet leaned to one side, watching the world. Her dad named it Map-box because an application on it showed the city's smart gizmos: buses, air meters, tiny courier robots. Maya was just twisting a red-spotted robot-ladybug when the tablet suddenly started buzzing.

Buzz-buzz-buzz – more impatiently than usual.

Maya pulled it closer. On the Map-box, a small white dot on the map blinked red, two corners away from them. Above the dot's name, it read: "Rollie-12 – stuck".

— Stuck? — whispered Maya, as if the robot could hear it. — Well, we cannot leave that!

Then Benji, Maya's best friend, stormed in, holding his skateboard with one arm and, in the other, a still-warm banana bread. On his shoe was a floury patch, as if he had flown across the bakery with a single jump.

— I heard the buzzing from the yard — he panted. — What happened?

— A courier robot is in trouble! — answered Maya, already grabbing her backpack. — Tools: tweezers, band-aid, spare tire, flashlight, and... the Beep-translator.

The Beep-translator was a device put together from an old phone and two rattling keychains that Maya had made with Grandma. It was capable of translating the beeps of robots into simple words. At least sometimes.

The Map-box puffed bubbles in the corner of the screen, meanwhile showing their route. Maya and Benji shot out of the stairwell, cut across the yard, where geraniums lined up on the ledge like flags. A warm, cinnamon scent hit them from the bakery. The ground trembled a bit as the tram buzzed away at the corner, but they turned toward the alley where, according to the map signal, Rollie was stranded.

There it was. A bare, white, round courier robot sat there, as if a big chalk ball had rolled to the side and forgotten itself in the sidewalk's crack. Twine was wound into one of its wheels. On its top sat a tiny box, and on top of that, a pictogram: a pot of flower. Under the robot's glass "eye" at the front, flour dust sat like a mustache.

— Hi, Rollie-12! — squatted down Maya. — Don't move, we'll help.

The robot gave three short and one long beep in answer, like a little nightingale practicing on a metronome. Maya whipped out the Beep-translator and tapped on the display. On the phone, tiny green waves jumped, and then words appeared: "Delay... package... flower... rescue."

— The package is a flower — nodded Benji. — And it is late. Oh, poor flower!

— Relax, relax — said Maya, and with tweezers carefully untangled the twine from the wheel. A woman stuck her head out from the bakery door.

— One got stuck again? — she asked, smiling. — Here are a few napkins, you can wipe it.

A few careful movements, a little flour cloud, sneezing-inducing dust, and Rollie-12's "eye" glittered brightly again. The Beep-translator spoke again: "Target... School... Greenhouse... 22 minutes." On the display, a tiny hourglass icon appeared too, as if they had stumbled into a strange timed mission.

— The Sunberry seedling — read Maya from the side of the box. — Do not shake. Handle with care.

— On the map, the usual route is closed due to the square painting festival — blurted out Benji, glancing at the Map-box. On the screen, colorful stripes snaked, with children and adults drawing on the sidewalk everywhere. — We need a detour. But toward the market, there are stairs.

Maya tapped her finger to her forehead. — Then we will be the moving ramp.

They fitted the skateboard onto the sidewalk's higher curb, and the robot slid over it carefully, with a tiny electric growl. For a while, they proceeded like this: Benji went in front, looked at the map, and drew arrows with chalk; Maya guarded the flower and the robot's wheel at the back, and, if needed, made a bridge with the board above a manhole cover or a bump.

At the corner of the market, water jets slapped the asphalt. The watering hose sprayed, writhing all over like a snake. Rollie-12 trembled, and the Beep-translator rattled out fast beeps: "Water... danger..."

— Shield needed — Benji declared, and pulled out a colorful umbrella from his bag. Maya held the bakery tray, which she wanted to take back, before the robot, like a knight holding their shield. They laughed when the water made tiny beads jump on the metal surface, and the robot remained dry. The leaves of the Sunberry trembled with joy at the sight of the drops.

When they reached the square, the Map-box suddenly buzzed confusedly. On the screen, the dot jumped here and there, as if someone were tickling it. The mirrors of the surrounding glass portals mixed up the signals, and Rollie-12 started circling a bronze statue like a little dog looking for its owner.

— Mirror bounce — said Maya. — The glass reflects the GPS signals. Let's guide it by eye.

Benji drew a thick, blue stripe on the ground with chalk, adding arrows and clapping stick figures so the robot could "see" which way to go. Maya set the pace with the Beep-translator: "Stepping mode: slow." The robot obediently followed the blue snake, and when for a moment it started circling again, Maya stuck a yellow sticker on its side to help it sense the direction better.

Finally, the gate of the school's garden appeared, with the green greenhouse behind it, like a giant, transparent cucumber. On the gate, a chain and padlock, and next to them, a yellow display: "Closed – due to festival". The Beep-translator translated nervous signals: "Time... little... alternative entrance?"

— Side service door! — Maya exclaimed, hitting the air. — According to the Map-box, it's there. — She smoothed the map away with her finger. — But the code panel is too high for the handle.

However, arriving at the service door, the code panel blinked dead. No light, no beeping.

— It's drained — Benji stated. — To what do we connect it?

Then something tinkled from the bike path. Grandma's blue-framed cargo bike turned next to them; in front, a wooden crate holding tools, a packet of gummy bears, and a strange, self-made bell that played the melody "Oh, where are you, little flower?" You couldn't surprise Grandma with anything.

— I heard the buzz from my hearing aid — she winked. — Who says you can't listen to buzz? What's the situation?

— It needs energy for the panel — explained Maya. — Just a little, to turn it on.

— No problem — said Grandma, and took out two nip-tuck wires, which she called "magic wires". — We'll give it a sip of light from the bike light.

Maya and Benji held the wires to the panel. The display came to life; tiny dots ran across it. Rollie-12, with its own "finger" – a tiny rubber-padded arm – typed in the code. Click. The door opened obediently.

The greenhouse welcomed them with a warm, humid embrace from inside. A thousand tiny water drops sat on the leaves, like so many transparent pearls. Fans purred, and the scent of earth wafted spicily in the air. On their watch, the tiny picture of the hourglass had just turned over then.

— Here is your place, Sunberry — whispered Maya, and lifted the pot carefully to the designated shelf. The leaves of the flower seemed to stretch out, as if they sighed contentedly.

The Beep-translator spoke for the last time: "Mission... completed. Thanks... heroes... friends." From a thin slot in Rollie-12's top, a tiny, self-adhesive sticker peeked out: "Helper Permit". It dispensed two. Maya and Benji stuck them on their t-shirts.

— Now we're official — Benji straightened himself. — City robot helpers.

— Or rather, robot friends — smiled Maya. — Because friends sometimes help with tweezers, sometimes with chalk, sometimes with buzz-music accompaniment.

Homeward, the square was quieter. The colors dried slowly on the sidewalk, and chalk fish swam in chalk waves. The bread scent escaping from the bakery floated around them again. On the Map-box, the red dot switched to green, then faded, then disappeared – Rollie-12 had returned to its own path.

— Next time, we mount raincoats on robots — stated Benji seriously, as he hoisted his board onto his shoulder. — And maybe parasols too, if Sunberry relatives come.

— And a mini portable ramp set — added Maya, and decided that in her pocket there would always be a pinch of ribbon and a pinch of chalk.

In the workshop, the LEDs blinked happily when they got back. Maya turned off the Map-box, but only partially: she set it to buzz, not to silence. Because the city is full of tiny secrets – and sometimes, a buzzing map knows best where they lurk.