He handed a fresh beer to Danny.
“Z?”
Zammy shook his head.
Bella twisted the cap from Danny’s beer, followed by his own. “Cheers.”
“Bottoms up.” Danny tapped the bottom of his beer bottle hard one time atop the neck of Bella’s. The vibration caused an instant effervescence, and foamy beer erupted from Bella’s bottle. He hurried the geyser of beer to his mouth and attempted to drink, but beer ran down his chin onto his beard and shirt.
Everyone laughed.
Everyone but Bella. “Very funny, doctor. You should be a comedian.”
A man with white hair and red eyes entered. Danny recognized him at once. It was Poodle Raw.
“Somebody call for a comedian?” He surveyed Bella wiping beer from his shirt. “It works better if you drink it, Buttbeard.”
“I know that, Poo. And stop making fun of my beard.”
“Or what, assface?”
“I’ll have eminent roboticist and master of party tricks Mister Daniel Olivaw here subatomically distill your positrons. It won’t feel good.”
“I’m a human being. I don’t have any positrons.”
“Besides,” said Bella, “chicks love the beard.”
“What chicks?” Rony called.
“You want a beer, Poo?” Bella asked.
“Desperately.”
Bella handed a cold beer to Poo. Poo bit off the cap, spit it into the trash, and chugged the entire beer.
Zammy clapped Poo on the shoulder. “About time you got here. How was your show?”
“Terrible. Only four people. And three of them got up and left right in the middle of my bit about the compulsive sperm donor.”
“What about the fourth guy?”
“He was passed-out drunk. I put him in a cab. What a shitty show.”
“When I stroll in the imaginary rain, I carry my imaginary umbrella,” said Zammy.
“What the bloody fuck does that mean?” asked Poo.
“It means,” said Zammy, “that life is one percent what happens to you and ninety-nine percent how you react to it.”
“Oh, really?” said Poo. “Wait, it gets worse. After I locked up for the night, I discovered that somebody threw poo all over the marquee. Again!”
“I saw that,” said Danny. “I was at the Seventy-six station. Two kids ran up and tossed a brown sack at the marquee.”
“Who were they? What did they look like?” Poo asked.
“A couple of white kids with nice shoes.”
“I knew it.” Poo clenched his fists. “It’s always the rich, spoiled kids who do shit like that.”
“So what did you do?” Zammy asked.
“I had to clean it off. I got poo all over me, same as last time. It was on my clothes and in my hair and under my fingernails. I had to pay the guys at the carwash five hundred bucks to let me walk through the machine again. Then I took a cab home and bathed in hydrogen peroxide. I then took a cab back to my car. I came straight here, but you know what happened? Those goddamn protestors threw shit on my car. Right on the windshield. It’s stuck to the wiper blades and I think it got down into the vents because the whole car smells like crap. I think it was human feces, too. It smells like beef and onions and pickles. The cops arrested the guy who threw it and charged him with assault with a biological weapon. If you get the docket, let me know. I want to meet that fucker in the arena and beat the fuck out of him. Then, when he’s flat on his back, lying in the dirt, breathing his last breath and begging for mercy, I’m gonna shit in his open mouth. And in his eyes. And then I wanna lean over him and say, ‘How ya doin? Havin’ a shitty day? Maybe you’ll think about that the next time you decide to attack an unsuspecting motorist with a paper bag filled with your own feces. Oh, no you won’t, because you’re dead!’ And then I’ll cut his fuckin’ head off and FedEx it to the offices of those STERN fuckers.
“What happened to the good old days when people threw eggs? Or, better yet, when they didn’t throw anything at all? They just let you go about your business the same way you let them go about their business. And everyone minded their own business. My business was my business and your business was your business and we all agreed to just stay the fuck out of each other’s business. It was a simpler time.
“Now everything’s all fucked up and just because I finally decided to have my eyes fixed, the anti-robot establishment has to boycott me. Can’t a guy make an honest living anymore?”
“Welcome to the club,” said Atom. “The anti-robot establishment ruined our careers, too.”
“What do you guys do for work?” Danny asked.
“I’ve amassed a global bubble wrap empire,” said Rukara.
“I have a big tee shirt design and fabrication company,” said Bella.
“I’ve licensed my likeness to be used by snuffbots in black market overseas robo-snuff films,” said Rony. “And every day somebody emails me a video of a robotic me getting deactivated in ever more disturbing ways.”
“What was it today?” Bella asked.
“Let’s just say I no longer have to imagine what it would be like to drown in a giant vat of saliva.”
“Which is why we spend so much time in Borneo,” said Rukara. “Not so much anti-robot sentiment down there.”
“Yeah,” said Poo, “but you guys don’t have people hurling excrement at you every other day. I’m gonna have to get a new car now. My brand new Aston smells like pickled shit.”
“I heard about this guy,” said Danny, “a friend of a friend, named Larry, who ate some bad Teriyaki cat and shit his pants and had to buy a new driver’s seat for his car, a brand new Jag, I think. Oh, and he got a ticket for jaywalking because he couldn’t wait for the crosswalk. But then there was a line for the bathroom and he couldn’t hold it anymore.”
“So he shit himself?” Rukara asked.
Danny nodded. “Had to incinerate his favorite pair of pants, too.”
“Why would he eat Teriyaki cat?” Rony asked.
“I think he thought it was chicken,” said Danny.
Rony grimaced. “That is why I always have been and always will be a vegetarian.”
Poo turned to Danny and extended his hand. “Anyway, we haven’t officially met. I’m Poodle.”
Danny shook Poo’s hand. “Danny. I love your movies. Especially the one where you banged all those aliens. That was hot.”
“Xenophilia has always been one of my fetishes. There’s nothing more terrifyingly thrilling than inserting your manhood into an alien orifice. There could be anything in there. It’s like that old Flash Gordon movie when Flash had to stick his arm inside that big alien tree ball with the deadly, pulsating spikes inside. Except, instead of your arm, it’s your junk.”
“Hey, Poo,” said Rony, “I’ve got an idea. For your next movie, you should play a woman who goes to another planet and has to have sex with lots of aliens.”
“Ooh, yeah,” said Poo, “it could be like an orgy.”
“And then you get pregnant,” said Rony.
Atom dropped the balls he was juggling. “That kinda puts a damper on things.”
“Exactly,” said Rony.
“Speaking of which,” said Zammy, “Bernard, we’re up.”
“After you, sir.”
Zammy turned to Danny. “We’ll be back shortly. In the meantime, relax and enjoy all the food and drink you like. You can watch the show on the big screen.”
Zammy pressed a button on a remote control and the plush red velvet draperies retracted. Behind them was a massive monitor. It showed the arena, where the bodies and body parts were being loaded up and hauled away. The monitors throughout the arena displayed Intermission. Several electric Zamboni tractors made back-and-forth sweeps of the arena floor, washing, rinsing, and drying the sand.
“Health codes,” said Zammy. “Bernard! Let us away, my sexy thespian robotic buddy!” Zammy and Bernard departed.
“Is he always so dramatic?” Danny asked.
&nb
sp; “No, he usually sings and dances his way out of the room,” said Bella.
A few minutes later, the arena had been cleared, and the house lights pulsed several times. A pleasant female voice rang out, “Please return to your seats. The show will resume shortly.”
“This is my favorite part of the show,” said Rony.
“I’m going to make some popcorn,” said Atom. “This number won’t make me throw up.”
“Please don’t burn it this time,” said Rony.
“I like it burned,” said Atom.
“The smell makes me sick.”
“You carried out five executions tonight,” said Rukara, “and the smell of burned popcorn makes you sick?”
Rony merely shrugged and sipped her champagne.
Atom pressed the Pop Now! button on a package of popcorn. Within a few seconds the bag began to expand, the kernels inside popping.
“How do you guys feel about killing people?” Danny asked.
“I don’t look at it as killing people,” said Bella. “If I went down to the Chinese Theatre and started chopping up tourists, that would be killing people. We are fulfilling a court order.”
“It’s like hundreds of years ago,” said Rony, “when thieves and murderers were executed in public. Somebody had to do it.”
Rukara added, “But the poor guy who had to swing the axe also had to show his face in public and go to market to buy turnips and rabbits and stuff. Which is why they started wearing masks and hoods.”
“We take our job very seriously,” said Atom. “We try to make it quick.”
“But isn’t it cruel and unusual punishment?” Danny asked.
“Yes, it is,” said Poo.
“No, it isn’t,” said Rony.
“Yes, it is,” said Poo.
“No. It isn’t,” said Rony.
“Yes, it is . . . infinity,” said Poo. “I win.”
Rony stood and faced Poo. “The people who come here made a choice. Rather than languish in a cold, hard cell, waiting to be shivved or shanked, they chose to come here. And if they didn’t want to be in a position where they had to make that choice, they shouldn’t have broken the law.”
“No, they shouldn’t have gotten caught,” said Poo, crunching on popcorn as Atom emptied the bag into a large bowl. “Besides, two wrongs don’t make a right.”
“How many times are you guys going to have this same argument?” said Bella.
“However many times it takes for Little Miss Massacre here to realize that capital punishment is wrong.”
“I will never admit that.”
“You won’t kill animals for food but you’ll execute humans?” Poo asked.
“Animals are innocent,” said Rony. “Humans have free will.”
“If Poo-boy had his way,” said Rukara, “Robot Palace would be shut down and demolished.”
“Not demolished,” said Poo. “It should be turned into a behavioral rehabilitation center. And don’t call me Poo-boy. You know I’m sensitive about that.”
“Okay, Poodle,” said Rony, “what if a thief broke into your house and murdered your wife and kids while you were on location shooting your next movie? Wouldn’t you want justice? You’re always going on and on about how much you love justice, and how you want to blow a big justicey load.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” said Poo. “I would want that person to be rehabilitated so he sees the error of his ways and can go on to make a valuable contribution to society. That way, something good can come from the tragic deaths of my fictitious wife and nonexistent children.”
“You are so full of shit,” said Rony.
Poo grinned. “Why do you think my parents named me Poo?”
“I always figured they had a fondness for dogs,” Rony replied. “Although, I would’ve named you something a bit more masculine than Poodle. Like . . . Collie. Oh no, I’ve got it: Dane. Dane is a great name. I would totally have sex with a guy named Dane. Maybe even on the first date.”
Poo’s head drooped.
“Wait a second,” said Danny. “A few minutes ago, you said you hoped the guy who threw pickled excrement on your Aston Martin comes here so you can beat the fuck out of him in the arena and then cut his head off and FedEx it to the STERN people after you poop in his eyes and mouth.”
“That’s right,” said Atom, “you did say that.”
“That’s right, you did,” Rony added.
“But now you’re saying capital punishment is wrong?” Danny asked. “And that someone who murders your fictitious wife and nonexistent children deserves a second chance, but someone who throws crap on you deserves to be publicly beheaded?”
Poo nodded. “I told you I was sensitive about that.” He turned to Atom. “Where’s Blendo?”
“Taking a bubble bath, crunching the numbers on today’s inventory,” said Atom.
“Is he watching Titanic again?”
“Probably.”
From another room, Blendo’s voice rang out, “I heard that!” There were sounds of water sloshing and splashing, and a moment later, Blendo emerged. He wore a red silk robe embroidered with Chinese dragons. He still wore his beret.
“You wear that beret in the tub?” Poo asked.
“You’ll never know.”
On the giant monitor, the lights dimmed.
“Ooh, it’s starting,” said Rony.
“I want to see it live!” said Rukara. He extricated himself from the chair and pushed on two large gold-framed mirrors. The mirrors were actually doors. They let out onto a lavish balcony. Rukara ran to the ledge, followed by Bella.
Rony, Atom, and Poo took positions on the sofa opposite the big screen.
Danny turned to Blendo. “Aren’t you going to watch?”
Blendo shrugged. “Robot on robot doesn’t really do it for me. I’m gonna go finish Titanic.”
“I heard that!” called Atom. He shoveled a fistful of popcorn into his mouth.
“Hey, Danny! Come out here!” Rukara and Bella beckoned him with their arms. Their red eyes glowed in the darkness. Rukara’s trench coat shimmered a brilliant violet.
Danny joined them at the railing. The view was spectacular. They looked down at the very center of the arena, high enough to effect grandeur but not so high as to feel removed from the action.
Across the arena, Danny spotted a man standing by himself in a private box. He wore a blue suit and a red tie.
On the arena floor, a vertical shaft of white light faded up. Standing in the center of it was Zammy. He lifted his head and made a show of surveying the crowd. He held a finger to his lips, calling for silence.
Bella and Rukara pressed their fingers to each other’s lips and said “Shhhh.” Rukara craned his neck toward the double doors and whispered, “You guys, be quiet. Shhhh.”
“We are being quiet,” said Rony. “You red-eyed freak.” She winked one of her own red eyes at Danny.
The arena became quiet and still.
Zammy spoke softly. “Here at Robot Palace, we have the great responsibility of seeing that justice is carried out. It’s not an easy job. But we do it. Day in and day out, night after night, we do it. And because of the support of all of you, our friends and neighbors, we’re able to do it. Whenever possible, we like to give something back.”
Zammy raised his arms. The floor behind him began to rise. A massive pyramid emerged from the sand and was lifted into the air. Red light illuminated the pyramid from within.
A great section of floor opened across from the pyramid. A stage rose into the air, and an orchestra along with it. A big orchestra, at least 200 pieces. Each player wore a tuxedo replete with white bowtie. A sea of red eyes trained on the conductor. The conductor stared back at them with intense red eyes of his own.
“Welcome, please,” said Zammy, “the Palace Grandharmonic Cyborchestra, led by Conductor Flavius Sol.” Great applause filled the arena.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” said Zammy, “may I present to you Le Petit Mort, The Small Death.�
�� The white beam of light shut off and Zammy was gone.
The pyramid reached its full height. Danny found himself nearly at eye level with its peak.
The tip of the pyramid unfolded. Its four sides retracted like petals on a flower, and formed a stage high in the air. Upon the stage, two figures stood perfectly still, locked in an embrace.
Red light illuminated them from below, casting their bodies in stark red and black contrast.
The female stood on tiptoe of one foot, with her opposite leg wrapped around the robot, and her head thrown back. Her body was completely nude.
The robot held the female close.
Flavius Sol extended his arms, glowing green baton in hand. He took a deep breath, nodded his head, and the orchestra began to play.
Music filled the air.
A snare drum tapped gently.
A flute began to play. A sweet melody rising and falling.
The melody was repeated, this time by a clarinet.
Then an oboe.
Then a bassoon.
Then a French horn.
And all the while the delicate taptaptaptap-taptaptaptap-tap-tap-taptaptaptap-taptaptaptaptaptap of the drums.
The woman arched her back and leaned away from the robot. She swayed with the music.
Slowly, the tempo increased.
Taptaptaptap-taptaptaptap-tap-tap-taptaptaptap-taptaptaptaptaptap went the snare drum, accompanied by the soft embrace of gathering horns.
“Oooh, it’s Bolero,” said Bella.
“Who?” whispered Rukara.
“No, Bolero. By a French composer named Maurice Revel.”
The whispers between Bella and Rukara went into Danny’s ears but found no purchase. Danny was transfixed upon the performers. They swayed this way and that, slowly with the music.
The horns’ gentle vibratos filled the air. The snare drums repeated over and over while they gathered strength.
Dozens of red shafts of light shone down from high in the darkness, illuminating the arena floor. Under each beam of crimson light, a trapdoor opened, and a pair of figures rose up into the arena.
All across the floor, the pairs were lifted up, a robot and a nude woman. Together they swayed in time with the music, in time with the two figures atop the pyramid.
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