Dan abandoned his escape strategy, crouching to defend himself. He grabbed Teddy’s wrist and leaned back, driving the ball of his foot into his chest. Teddy hooked onto him at the last second — but it was too shallow. Back-spinning into the ground, Dan propelled him into a wall.
Maple rushed to Teddy’s side. “I’m registering multiple injuries. Shall I request medical assistance?”
“Shut up,” he screamed, throwing a piece of Dan’s shirt sleeve onto the ground.
“The police have been notified and are on their way,” said the female voice.
“Good!” hissed Teddy.
The sound echoed in Dan’s ears as he took off in the other direction. He knew he shouldn’t leave Glenda, but he had to distance himself while the maniac was preoccupied. Dan looked back at Teddy. The fury in the young man’s eyes was bewildering. If the outside world is full of volatile humans like this, no wonder Stanley is so concerned, thought Dan.
Teddy sneered. “You’re lucky, idiot.”
A man approached Teddy. “Are you all right?”
Teddy knocked him across the hall with a single shove. The man crashed into a wall and collapsed onto the ground.
“Hands up!” shouted Officer Michaels, gun drawn.
Teddy lifted his hands, walking toward him.
“Stop moving, and get on the ground.”
“Why, officer? You don’t understand. This man attacked me.”
“Get down, now.”
Teddy complied, kneeling near the broken wall. Pieces of concrete lay within arm’s reach.
Michaels approached, his gun locked on Teddy. He motioned toward Maple. “You, too. On the ground.”
That split second was all Teddy needed. He threw a baseball-sized piece of concrete at fastball speed, exploding on contact with the gun.
Michaels screamed. The gun went flying. Blood and flesh splattered across the floor. “You broke my fucking hand.”
Teddy was already running at him. “You police are all the same.” He was feet away from Michaels, who had only one hand to defend himself. Flying in from the side, Dan slammed against Teddy with a drop kick and then grabbed the gun from the floor. It was wet and grainy from blood, bone, and concrete.
“Oh, so you wanna play now, do you?” asked Teddy, unfazed by the attack.
“I don’t want to shoot you,” said Dan, putting himself in front of Michaels, protecting him from the next attack. “But I will if I have to.”
Teddy took another piece of concrete out of his pocket. “Let’s see who is faster.”
Dan aimed at him, finger on the trigger.
Teddy launched the concrete. It whizzed through the air. Dan targeted it with the gun. If he shot it, the bullet would blow right through and hit a bystander. He could pivot and void the projectile, but, in doing so, he was sure that the officer would get hit. Had the maniac calculated this? At the last second, Dan disarmed the gun and smashed the concrete with its butt.
Teddy grabbed another one.
“Stop!” yelled another police officer, running down the hall.
Realizing he was outnumbered, Teddy booked it.
“Shoot him,” yelled Michaels.
Dan reloaded the weapon but didn’t aim. “But he’s — ”
Michaels grabbed the gun out of Dan’s hands, firing three shots at Teddy with his one good hand. All terrible misses. “Damn it.”
Dan looked at his destroyed shirt. If Stanley noticed it, he would never let him out again. Unbuttoning the cuffs of both sleeves, he rolled them up to his bicep. Pain shot out from his left hand — his finger was broken.
“Let’s get you and me fixed up,” said Michaels. They went and got immediate treatment.
“Tin-can scum,” said Michaels as the android nurse injected a mixture of nanites and fuse into his hand. “I thought he was pure human until he launched that attack on me at super-human speed. Had I known, I would have lit him up the moment I came in.”
Dan said nothing, watching as his hand was instantly healed. He had refused the fuse.
“Thank you for helping out back there. That was quite the move you made.”
“You’re welcome,” said Dan.
“Ever think about joining the force? We could use good men like you.” Michaels scanned Dan’s body. “Strong bodied and strong willed, not afraid to take risks. Willing to protect his fellow man.”
“I’ve thought about my role as a protector.”
“Well, if you want to make a difference, come down to the station sometime.” He put forward his healed hand. “Michaels.”
“Dan. Dan Duncan.”
Stanley stood on the blood-free carpet and watched Glenda and Dan slowly make their way upstairs. “Thank goodness you’re both safe.”
Her hand crept forward. “For crying out loud, Stanley. It was just a little scratch.”
“A little scratch? Glenda, you nearly died. You need to be more careful.”
“I’m ninety-two years old. Waking up in the morning is what surprises me.”
Dan shrugged, a sly smile creeping across his face.
Stanley dug his foot into the carpet. “I’m sorry about Boots. He was a great cat.”
“I’ll miss him.” Her eyes reddened until two streams of tears, in typical Glenda fashion, slowly ambled along the moguls of her face.
“Of course,” said Dan.
Stanley felt sick to his stomach. He needed to say something. “I’ve placed his body in my freezer — I still can’t believe he’s gone.”
Glenda stretched her bony hands forward to open the door. “His death was tragic, but he lived a good life.”
“And you still have Mittens,” said Dan.
Stanley shrugged. “But Boots would still be here if she’d have kept him indoors.”
“I could never shut him away like that. He’s an outdoor cat. That would be imprisoning him.”
“No, you’d be protecting him. I can only imagine what other horrible things that demon-cat has done, let alone what other dangers lurk beyond our doors.”
Glenda pierced Stanley with her eyes. “Outside, Boots may have been exposed to traffic, scary dogs, and whatever it was that killed him, but it was the life he needed to live. And I loved him enough to let go. If I kept him locked inside, I would have been the one killing him.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re going to let Mittens go outside after what happened?”
“If that’s what he wants.”
Stanley was furious. The outside world was dangerous — why couldn’t she see that? “Glenda, that’s horrible.”
“What’s horrible is people not minding their own business.”
“I love Mittens, and I don’t want to see him hurt.”
She shrugged him off.
“I hope you will reconsider.” It was all Stanley could do to excuse himself from the conversation. Inside the condo, he and Dan caught each other up on what had happened. Stanley was too ashamed to say what he had done to protect Dan. He had kept him completely in the dark about the threats.
“There was a strange error when I got scanned,” said Dan, his hands by his sides. “But besides that, not much happened.”
“S-scanned? No, please tell me you didn’t do that.”
“Okay, I didn’t.”
“Yeah, but, you just said you did.”
“The machine wasn’t working, so whatever it is that you’re worried about — just forget it.”
Stanley wasn’t buying it. There was something off about Dan. As he quickly analyzed his body, he figured out what was tripping his senses and pointed toward Dan’s hand. “And what happened here?”
Dan reddened and stepped backward, sheepishly tucking his arms behind his back. “What?”
“Come on.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not ‘nothing.’ You go out for a few hours, and you’ve already changed how you dress. Imagine what else could happen.”
Dan’s arms relaxed to his side. “So, you like the new look?”
Stanley shook his head.
“So, hey: The supermarket Frank manages is right down the street.”
“Uh, huh.”
Excitement burned in Dan’s eyes. “Super walkable.”
“They probably get a lot of foot traffic.”
Dan grinned. “And we’ve got lovely feet.”
“Which I’m going to park right over there and relax for the rest of the day.” Stanley walked toward the sofa and turned on the TV, which played advertisements for fuse. For a brief moment, he wondered what it would be like to forget everything and fuse out for a while. Soak in that ocean of bliss. He thought back to his bottle of whiskey in the cabinet, which was as far as he was willing to go. Any more than that and he would be skipping out on his punishment. After a day like today, a nightcap would sure take the edge off.
Dan practically leapt up to the cushion next to him. “Aren’t you curious as to what caused the cat to go haywire? We could solve this mystery together — what better way to show the world what you’ve created.”
“Nope. Not interested. It’s none of my business.” Stanley thought about the code on his computer, a few clicks away from pushing it to the server and giving everyone in the world a do-it-yourself assassin.
“What! Glenda’s cat is dead because of what happened.”
“And we’re alive because we keep to ourselves.”
“You’ve done a great job protecting me, Stanley.”
“That’s right. I won’t let anything happen to you.” But the truth was, he had done practically nothing. If Dan hadn’t been there, Stanley and Glenda would have been killed. If there were going to be more attacks, he needed to be able to protect the people he cared about. He went over to his computer and ordered a few components to make a weapon, marking the delivery as “urgent.”
Dan followed him like a puppy. “But you have to admit, it was pretty interesting what Glenda had to say about her cats.”
“Don’t start!”
Dan sighed. “I wish we could do more.”
Stanley could feel his disappointment as he lingered there next to him. When the realness of the moment became too intense, he hastened to the couch and picked up the remote. “There are plenty of nice shows to keep us entertained.”
“But I have watched them all already — watched them all.”
Shaking his head, the words chiseled at Stanley’s mind. A dire need to drown his guilt consumed him. Heading toward the liquor cabinet, he opened the door and rubbed his fingers together. This was a road he didn’t want to go back down, especially not in front of Dan. Instead, Stanley grabbed his trusty fountain pen and sat at the dining-room table to write, letting his thoughts drain out as he repeatedly signed his name, patiently and beautifully crafting each stroke. The truth of it was, he knew, the recent crimes in Marshfield were an anomaly. More people drowned in the ocean or died from eating uncooked pork. All in all, Marshfield, with the exception of a few troublesome areas, was fairly safe. Androids operated most of the stores throughout the town. They manned the fire station without any problems. But the few cases of violence had scared him terribly, especially what had happened with Boots — and that wasn’t even outside.
Stanley’s body trembled as he looked at the stack of games. There was another reason he was being so resistant. In here, things were perfect. They were best friends living a life he could only have dreamt about a year ago. But beyond those brown condo doors loomed the unforgiving world. He didn’t want Dan to see the way they treated him.
He could imagine him and Dan happily walking down the street until Dan noticed people staring at Stanley. Looking at him like he was disgusting. Saying one of those horrible stories about him. His heart sank into his stomach at the very idea of Dan hearing anything bad about him. He couldn’t bear anything happening to their relationship.
Hours drifted by, marked by a litany of signatures. Occasionally, he glanced over at Dan, who remained hunched over on the chair by the window, immobile, like a powered-down android.
Stanley wondered what he was thinking. For all he knew, Dan felt imprisoned and hated him for it. Dan had been a great companion, always doing things for him and never asking for anything. The one time that Dan had asked him for something, he denied his request, snapping at him like some spoiled child.
The drone arrived, and Stanley buzzed it in.
“What’d you get?” asked Dan.
“Oh, you know,” said Stanley. “Just a cane to help me get around.”
“With a massive battery like this? You’re making a weapon. A stun cane.”
“Better to be safe than sorry,” said Stanley, walking over to the cabinet. “Row, row, row your boat,” he said. It slid out of place, revealing a spiral staircase in what used to be a pantry. Downstairs was another whole unit turned into a lab. He’d had plans to build all sorts of creations when he’d bought the place twenty years before. That never happened.
He cut through the center of the thick cane with a laser and inserted the battery. He bore a few holes for a trigger and created a release mechanism for a small metal plate at one end. All that was left was a little programming, which he would do when he was less weary.
Stanley knew he was being selfish. There would be risk, but the chances of being involved in anything serious were virtually zero. Especially, as Dan mentioned, in broad daylight. Had Dan researched it and done the math already? What kind of a person — what kind of a father — am I?
Walking upstairs, he braced himself against the back of a chair. He gaped, unable to say anything. Instead, he looked around the room, thinking about all the things that had changed thanks to Dan.
Stanley didn’t drink or smoke anymore. He dressed better, cleaner. The clothes he wore remained the same, but now he had a reason to straighten out wrinkles, align his shirt and pants, and make sure the laundry pile didn’t grow into a mountainous heap. An army of signatures fortified the table, but where was the invading enemy? The ridges in his face screamed out as his hand slowly traversed it. An illusion, he knew. He watched Dan from the corner of his eye. That simple smile, hands folded across his lap. Dan had accepted him completely as he was. Scars, burns, odors, and complications — all of it. Stanley had nothing to hide. Dan had seen him for who he was, and that acceptance wouldn’t change regardless of how poorly anyone else treated him or what rumors he heard.
The words Stanley knew he wanted to say stuck in his throat as he stared at his motionless friend. Friend — the word came like a warm fire upon his icy thoughts. Gradually, the resistance faded. It was time to stop standing in the way of this incredible being. Sprouting from a seismic thought that threatened to shatter his heart, words trembled in Stanley’s throat and erupted in soft invisible fumes that seemed to singe his eye. “Tomorrow, we will venture beyond the complex doors.”
Dan rose, a beautiful smile stretching across his face, bringing his countenance to life like the first rays of a morning sun across a sleeping valley. “You mean it?”
Stanley nodded. “We’ll find out who is responsible for rigging that dangerous demon-cat.” And in case it was a threat intended for them, Stanley was going to be prepared. His inability to protect everyone against the demon-cat was pathetic. The least he could do was prevent it from happening again. He had completed the adjustments for Brutus’s program but delayed posting any of it. If there was any chance that this was all a coincidence, he had to wait before unleashing such a dangerous program online.
Dan pressed his pointer fingers together. “And maybe some grocery shopping?”
Looking at the eagerness in his eyes, Stanley couldn’t say “No.” But he was weary, and all the exciting talk was weighing hi
m down. Kneeling beside his bed, he did something he hadn’t done in more than twenty years — he prayed to God. It came out naturally, spontaneously, immaculately:
God, grant me serenity
Accepting life as is
Courage when the moment urges
Agency to don thy will
And in times of indecision
Give me faith in your decision
Trusting in your divine vision
Guiding me where I must go.
Brad knocked on the condo door. “Open up. It’s the police.”
Evan stood behind Brad, with his gun drawn.
No answer.
Brad grinned, smashing the door in with one kick. Splinters exploded into the small apartment.
After quickly sweeping the living room and kitchen, Evan motioned Brad forward to where the hall ended with two closed doors. He could hear faint whimpering coming from one of them.
Brad counted down with his fingers and then opened the door. “Police — put your hands up.”
A naked woman was bound and gagged on a bed. Scars and slashes were spread across her overly thin body, and an IV of fuse was standing behind her bed.
“Holy shit,” said Brad, running toward the woman.
Evan waited by the second door. It opened, and a sweaty man in boxers stood, dumbfounded. Evan pointed his gun at him. “Hands up!”
“What the hell is this?” said the man, lifting his hands over his head.
“You’re under arrest,” said Evan, slapping cuffs on the man and forcing him onto his knees.
“For what? I paid for her.”
“Is that how you get your jollies? Imprisoning women?”
“What? No, she’s mine. A cyborg. I bought her.”
Evan got in his face, his eyes ice cold. “If what you’re saying is true, I’m going to beat you to death. And if you’re lying to me, I’ll let Brad do it — except he’ll use nanites to keep you alive.
The man trembled.
“Brad, scan her.”
Brad took out his phone and aimed the camera at her face. “She’s a goddamn abomination.”
Stanley Duncan's Robot: Genesis Page 9