Stanley Duncan's Robot: Genesis

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Stanley Duncan's Robot: Genesis Page 24

by David Ring III


  “Grab one from behind the bar — on the house.”

  Squatting down, she used Cratos’s finger to access the phone again and then canceled the order. The option to kill everyone in the Coliseum was there, calling to her. If she pressed it, all these pieces of scum would get what they deserve, but that would make her no better than Brad and Evan.

  “Hey.” The drunk man stumbled over with a beer in his hands. “Whad’ya doing with his phone?”

  “Thank God he didn’t crack it when he hit the ground. Here, give me a hand, and let’s move him to one of the chairs.”

  The man shook his hands, spilling beer on the floor. “I would, but I got a bad back.”

  “So, you’re going to make me do it all by myself? Do you know what Evan would say about that?”

  “I don’t want any trouble,” he said.

  The man’s eyes were on her, and she didn’t know why. Hopefully, it was only because he was drunk. “That makes two of us.” They dragged his body over to a chair. Shannon casually put the blood-smeared phone on Cratos’s chest. This would be enough to stop him from unleashing Brutus in the next couple of hours. After that, she didn’t want to think about what would happen. Nor did she want to stay and find out. The bastard would get what was coming to him when Evan and Brad learned that he had failed.

  She slid onto the ring. Larry’s limbs were gushing blood. There was no way he was in a condition to be moved. She darted over to a first-aid kit and grabbed some nanites, injecting them into his mouth and wounds. “Don’t die on me.”

  Teddy stirred.

  She crept as close as she dared. “Come with me.”

  “My stupid legs won’t move.”

  She looked around for a solution, but there was none. All she had to do was buy him a little more time until he recovered. “Give it a few minutes.”

  A group of three big men came up. One of them had blood oozing out of an ugly scratch on his face. “If Brutus isn’t coming out, we’re going to finish the cripple ourselves.”

  Teddy laughed. “If you think that cat scratch is bad, wait until I get ahold of you.”

  Cat-scratch man picked up the claymore and slammed it into Teddy’s head with the flat side, knocking him out.

  Shannon pushed herself between them. “Enough. If Brad finds out you were messing with his new pet, then he’ll lock you in a cage and leave you worse off than him.” She pointed to Larry, bile rising in her throat.

  “We didn’t know,” said cat-scratch man.

  Shannon looked at him. “You — help me move Larry into the VIP room.” She pointed to Teddy. Rescuing him was out of the question. The least she could do was protect him from getting hurt now. “The rest of you, wheel this tin can back into the holding room.”

  The men looked at each other hesitantly.

  “Now!”

  Two of the men shackled Teddy and wheeled him out. Cat-scratch man grumbled as he helped her bring Larry into the VIP room.

  “A good man knows how to follow orders. I’ll make sure Evan hears about you.” After dismissing cat-scratch man, she stood over Larry’s body. Brad or Evan could be back any minute, especially when they found out Brutus hadn’t gone to the high school. A moment of joy rushed over her body as she realized their technological incompetence would leave them unable to operate Brutus. But, eventually, someone would.

  Larry’s wounds were healing, but he was still unresponsive. There was nothing more she could do for him. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  Evan turned to Brad. “Where the hell is Brutus?”

  “He should be here any minute.”

  The delay annoyed him to no end. This freak show should never have been permitted to carry on. “In ten more minutes, once the abomination goes back up on stage, I’m arresting it. I won’t permit the poison to spread any further.”

  “I’ll make sure that whoever is responsible for the delay pays.”

  “You be sure you do. This is war. We can’t have insubordination — that’s treason.”

  Brad looked away. “What about Duncan?”

  “Hiding scared at home,” said Evan, a delightful sensation filling his head. “The janitor’s on his way to clean up that trash.”

  As Stanley’s program ran on the computer, he sat at the table and listened to Dan’s press release. Signing away a new signature every few seconds, his heart thumping and mixing in with the buzzing of the drones outside. A news alert played during a commercial in the press release, making allegations that Stanley was wanted for questioning by the police for the murder of Officer Michaels. Stanley nearly lost it. He could see what they were doing — destroying him as a way to destroy Dan and Machines with Dreams. But he was not going to let them do it.

  Finally, an alert sounded from his computer. Stanley rushed over and saw the IP address that had spoofed the call and unleashed a suite of security tools scanning for vulnerabilities, finding one instantly in a third-party script. With a few commands, he could root and destroy the harasser’s computer. But first, Stanley wanted to see the face of the man who’d had the audacity to harass him.

  The next thing Teddy realized was that they were dragging him back to the holding area, limbs barely responding to his commands. Tortured and driven to insanity, he was going to die here. But he wasn’t ready to let that happen. Not because he wanted to be alive but because he needed to kill Brad.

  Looking around the room, he searched for something he could use as a weapon. There were spikes, blades, and hammers everywhere, but finding an object that he could retrofit onto his maimed body was the difficult part. Jamming a blade into his stub seemed like the only option.

  Maple was here. Teddy recognized the stupid little pink dress she was wearing. “Maple? Can you hear me?”

  No response.

  It didn’t look like she had been physically modified, but they may have formatted her programming and put in some murderous software. If he turned her on, she may end up killing him. Better to wait until he found a weapon to defend himself with.

  As he continued to inspect the room from where he was lying, he noticed a phone jack along the wall. There was no phone, but he had an idea.

  Getting up off the ground was harder than he expected. He was completely enervated from the beating he had received. If they made him fight later, there would be no way he could defend himself. Walking up to an android with bladed hands, Teddy sliced up his right stub, peeling away his artificial flesh until one of his electrical wires was exposed. Taking it into his mouth, he pulled it out and opened the wiring. He could feel the current from it running through his mouth, modulating the strength with the Cerebral Stitch.

  This was going to work.

  Sticking the wire into the jack, Teddy could feel the energy running through him and knew the phone was live. Creating Morse Code through electric pulses, he sent out an SOS to Dan. If anyone came down now, they would be able to see what he was doing and stop him. But this was his best chance at survival and the only way he had left to get revenge.

  Chapter 19

  Stanley stared into the computer screen as he hit the “Return” button, ready to confront the man who had threatened him in his own home. He imagined a sinister-looking face similar to Evan’s, some horrible man hell-bent on hurting others, with a dagger in his hand, guffawing to horrendous snuff videos.

  The live-feed from their webcam popped up — it was a young boy.

  “No!” Thrusting his face toward the screen, Stanley couldn’t believe his eyes. This boy was not even a teenager. “Why would you do this to me?”

  The boy couldn’t hear him. Nor did he know that his webcam had been compromised.

  Stanley got to his feet. Dan had been right. The children needed their guidance. Looking outside, more reporters had arrived. Fear rose in his stomach, but Stanley refused to listen. He should never have let Dan do this al
one. He threw on his coat and ordered a Fermi. When it arrived, he walked outside, scurrying through an army of android reporters armed with a barrage of questions and unforgiving lenses.

  “ — Are you going to the high school?”

  “ — How would you characterize your relationship with Dan?”

  “ — Is it true that you are programming androids to kill people?”

  Stanley ignored the cacophony, beaming directly toward the Fermi, cursing himself for not leaving earlier.

  “Duncan!” Holt bolted out in front of Stanley.

  Stanley gasped. “You’re that nasty man who treated my Dan so awfully.”

  “I’ve been a man of God all my life — more than fifty years.” Deep, wheezy breaths scraped through Holt’s throat. An unreadable tattoo peeped out of his left shirt cuff. A forest of graying chest hair threatened to escape through the gap in his shirt where a button had been undone.

  “Great. Go do it somewhere else.” From a few feet away, Stanley could still smell the stench of alcohol on his breath.

  Holt stepped toward him. “I grew up before the Internet was popular, well before the rise of intelligent machine life.”

  “I don’t care,” said Stanley, moving toward the Fermi.

  Holt stepped in front of him. “But God led me elsewhere,” he continued. “For fifteen years, I hauled freight across the USA. Fifteen great years, that is, until all the truckers were laid off and replaced by the self-driving systems we helped to teach.” His lip snarled, and his friendly look turned to hatred.

  “And you think it’s Dan’s fault?” hissed Stanley. Shortly after the creation of the first cyborg, the Pope had given a press conference, calling it an “abomination.” It was his words Holt was echoing today. The Pope’s denigration had led to a revival in the practices of the Ku Klux Klan. Public burnings of androids and cyborgs became widespread. Stanley wondered how many times Holt had put on a white hood.

  “The AI systems installed in my eighteen-wheeler collected data as I drove, silently studying and codifying everything, until — ” he shook his head “ — until they didn’t need me anymore. Threw me out like trash. I had become redundant.”

  “Oh, poor you. You act like it’s everyone’s fault but your own. You knew the Great Layoff was coming — everyone knew. Even before it came, you had the BGI and more than enough time and money to prepare.”

  “We’re talking about my life — not money. Can you fathom what it’s like knowing that you are training your own replacement?” He shook his head, his nostrils swelling to the size of a lug nut. “For years I acquiesced, knowing that I was tying my own noose. It was horrible, but there was nothing I could do about it. I needed money — the BGI took way too long to get passed — and nobody else was hiring for decent pay. I’m a man of God. There was no way I was going to take up looting, like so many sinners had done.”

  “That’s really great of you and all, but I need to go. So, if you’ll excuse me.”

  Holt raised his palm up toward Stanley. “Just answer me this — why did you do it? Why write a program that would destroy my life and the lives of so many others? You had to know it was going to happen, and yet you chose the machines over your own kind.”

  Fear ripped through Stanley’s heart as he thought about the assassination program. But that wasn’t what Holt was talking about — not yet. There would be penance for this program and the inevitable destruction that it would reap, but Holt was talking merely about automated driving. “Me?” Stanley laughed. He didn’t have time for this. “Take some responsibility, for Christ’s sake!”

  “Spider-summoning heathen, how dare you use the Lord’s name in vain?” Holt stepped forward, an aura of murder blaring from every molecule of his body.

  “Get away from me!” Stanley raised his arm, ready to shock him with his watch if necessary.

  “That I cannot do.” Holt reached into his coat pocket. “You’ve sinned before our lord, unleashing an abomination upon this Earth. A plague.”

  “I helped create new life.”

  “So, you think you’re God? Blasphemy!” Holt plunged a knife into Stanley’s gut.

  Stanley stepped back, tripping over the feet of an android reporter and falling onto the frozen earth. He slipped his hand into his coat, feeling the blood ooze out of his body.

  Holt moved in for the kill.

  Stanley kicked him, refusing to let Holt get any closer. Several slashes ripped open his pants and cut his calves. “Help,” he screamed, but the androids continued filming as if there weren’t a damn murder taking place.

  “You pray to these false idols, while I trust in God. Let’s see whose faith will be rewarded.” Holt tossed Stanley’s legs to the side and lunged at him, plunging the knife deep into his side.

  Stanley looked down at the knife, speechless. He was going to die here among the AI who he had fought so hard for, killed by a man who certainly planned on murdering them, too.

  Holt yanked at the knife, struggling to lift it up.

  When Stanley felt nothing, he realized that it had pierced his coat, completely missing him and burying itself into the frozen soil. Twisting his watch, two metal prongs sprang out from the side. He slammed them into Holt’s arm, sending him writhing against the ground.

  Cameras surrounded Stanley; bright lights pierced him as if it were his day of judgment. Fear electrified his body, and his fingers gnarled like a werewolf ready to attack. He picked up the knife, feeling like a blessed Knight of the Round Table — and ready to do what needed to be done. “If I were God, I would never have allowed the world to become a living hell.”

  Holt remained on the ground, motionless except for the occasional tremor.

  “Smiting you right now for the evil you have brought upon the world would be too good for you,” Stanley hissed.

  “Do it,” hissed Holt.

  “I’ve banished myself to my condo for decades, hating myself every day. And now the one thing that makes me forget all that, the joy that I am struggling to allow myself to feel, is Dan, the light of my life. And you dare to treat him like trash.”

  “Abomination,” said Holt, failing to push himself off the ground.

  “I’m not God — I’ve gave up trying to believe in him a long time ago. I’m a father, the rock that protects Dan’s ears and guards his soul.”

  The anger in Holt’s face faded.

  Stanley tossed the knife away and got into his ride.

  Intermission was nearly over. Dan took out his phone from inside one of the classrooms and listened to his voicemail. Screeching pulsations hissed into his hear. He jerked the phone away and jabbed his finger toward the “Delete” button, but something stopped him. The pulsations had some pattern — Morse Code. He replayed the message. The noise turned into cries for help. Teddy was imprisoned and being tortured inside the Coliseum, and Dan was his only hope of getting out alive.

  With only a few minutes to spare, Dan plugged himself into the internet, searching for more information that could help him on the mission. After downloading whole archives and current news, he went back to the auditorium to announce that he needed to go. Walking toward the principal, he processed all the footage, including the fight between Stanley and Holt. Tears streamed down his face.

  “Do you need a few more minutes?” asked the principal.

  “Yes, well — ” Dan saw Stanley walk in and couldn’t help but smile.

  Stanley approached him, his whole body trembling. His pants looked like they had been sliced up by a lawn mower.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll be fine. Nothing nanites couldn’t fix.”

  “I saw what happened. It was all over the news.”

  “Of course, it was. That’s the only thing those androids did while I was about to die.”

  Dan wrapped his arms around him. Love flowed like a river
of honey. “You were incredible.”

  Stanley squeezed him for a long time.

  “I have to go.” Dan avoided his face, not sure if he should tell him the truth. It was likely going to be violent, and he didn’t want him to worry. What had happened to Teddy was too horrible to tell Stanley.

  “Why?”

  “Someone desperately needs my help.”

  Stanley pointed to the audience. “These people desperately need your help. I understand that now.”

  The principal called Dan to the stage.

  Dan looked at Stanley. “Can you help me out?”

  A look of horror crossed over Stanley. “You mean? Oh, no. Definitely not.”

  “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.” He placed his hand on Stanley’s shoulder.

  “I can’t.”

  “This is nothing compared to your lectures at MIT.”

  “But I don’t have anything prepared.”

  “Has that ever stopped you?”

  Stanley glanced at the audience. “I’ll do it, but you have to take the helmet.”

  Dan rolled his eyes. If this was going to put Stanley at ease, so be it. There was little time to waste, and he still needed to buy chemicals from the store. There was no telling how many people would be at the Coliseum. Knocking them out with gas was the easiest way to infiltrate it and extract Teddy. He took the pants he had changed out of earlier and offered them to Stanley. “Social protocol.”

  Fear fought Stanley every step of the way to the podium. Each cell of his body was trembling, demanding that he smoke a cigarette, have a drink, or grab his fountain pen.

  Dan waved at him. He had delayed his departure to make sure Stanley was okay.

  Stanley wasn’t going to wait any longer. Summoning up his strength, he ignored his body and mind, and, somehow, forced his way to the stage. In front of him were hundreds of children — not the judgmental ne’er-do-wells he had once imagined them to be, but misguided beings. Parents were absent, and supervision was a thing of the past. These students needed a good teacher more than ever.

 

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