True or False (Percy Jackson edition)

I thought we’d lost the spider until Tyson heard a faint pinging sound. We made a few turns, backtrackeda few times, and eventually found the spider banging its tiny head on a metal door. The door looked like one of those old-fashioned submarine hatches—oval, with metal rivets around theedges and a wheel for a doorknob. Where the portal should’ve been was a big brass plaque, green withage, with a Greek ?ta inscribed in the middle. We all looked at each other. “Ready to meet Hephaestus?” Grover said nervously. “No,” I admitted. “Yes!” Tyson said gleefully, and he turned the wheel. As soon as the door opened, the spider scuttled inside with Tyson right behind it. The rest of usfollowed, not quite as anxious. The room was enormous. It looked like a mechanic’s garage, with several hydraulic lifts. Some had carson them, but others had stranger things: a bronzehippalektryon with its horse head off and a bunch ofwires hanging out its rooster tail, a metal lion that seemed to be hooked up to a battery charger, and aGreek war chariot made entirely of flames. Smaller projects cluttered a dozen worktables. Tools hung along the walls. Each had its own outline on aPeg-Board, but nothing seemed to be in the right place. The hammer was over the screwdriver place.The staple gun was where the hacksaw was supposed to go. Under the nearest hydraulic lift, which was holding a ’98 Toyota Corolla, a pair of legs stuck out—thelower half of a huge man in grubby gray pants and shoes even bigger than…

The spider did a happy flip in his palm, shot a metallic web at the ceiling, and went swinging away. Hephaestus glowered up at us. “I didn’t make you, did I?” “Uh,” Annabeth said, “no, sir.” “Good,” the god grumbled. “Shoddy workmanship.” He studied Annabeth and me. “Half-bloods,” he grunted. “Could be automatons, of course, but probablynot.” “We’ve met, sir,” I told him. “Have we?” the god asked absently. I got the feeling he didn’t care one way or the other. he was justtrying to figure out how my jaw worked, whether it was a hinge or a lever or what. “Well then, if I didn’tsmash you to a pulp the first time we met, I suppose I won’t have to do it now.” He looked at Grover and frowned. “Satyr.” Then he looked at Tyson, and his eyes twinkled. “Well, aCyclops. Good, good. What are you doing traveling with this lot?” “Uh…” said Tyson, staring in wonder at the god. “Yes, well said,” Hephaestus agreed. “So, there’d better be a good reason you’re disturbing me. Thesuspension on this Corolla is no small matter, you know.” “Sir,” Annabeth said hesitantly, “we’re looking for Daedalus. We thought—” “Daedalus?” the god roared. “You want that old scoundrel? You dare to seek him out!” His beard burst into flames and his black eyes glowed. “Uh, yes, sir, please,” Annabeth said. “Humph. You’re wasting your time.” He frowned at something on his worktable and limped over to it.He picked up a lump of springs and metal plates and tinkered with them. In a few seconds he washolding a bronze and…