Prisoners of Technocracy (Robots in Your Future Book 1)

by David Poland

  Demy thought about the weapons this android was carrying and prepared itself to use every kilowatt of energy it had to destroy it. As Demy stood by quietly, it drained its reserve batteries into surge capacitors and prepared to throw enough force at him to bend steel. Demy knew it couldn’t win and that it would be totally destroyed, but it would damage the android so badly that it would be exposed and unable to hurt Angie. That would be enough, thought Demy. I will not let it harm my human.

  A waiter came to Angie’s table and took the three orders. “You’re going to like this,” Angie said to Benny. “Constance and I have been coming here for years. We really like this place best.”

  Before Benny could answer, a voice came across the public address system. “City maintenance needs access to a service hatch. Would the owner of the blue Tesla please move your car?

  The announcement startled Angie. “That’s your car, isn’t it? Is it close by? Can you go move it and get back before your lunch gets here?”

  “I don’t think it’s my car. They just said a blue Tesla. He didn’t say anything about Thunderbird blue. Besides that, I don’t remember parking near a service hatch. It must be somebody else’s car.”

  Over the robot radio Demy heard the car’s color identified in better detail. “I just heard it’s a new Thunderbird blue Tesla K type,” said Demy. “It sounds like yours.”

  With irritation, Benny looked back over at Demy and said, “Yeah, I heard that too.”

  Benedict’s careless remark jarred Angie out of her lovely daydream. “I didn’t hear anything. Demy, did I miss an audible sound or are you listening to robot radio?”

  “There was no sound,” replied Demy, “and yes, it was over robot radio.”

  Angie’s romantic daydream was shattered and took refuge behind her cool intellect. She felt betrayed. This guy was a cyborg. She didn’t mind a mechanical foot or hand, but she would have nothing to do with electronic circuitry under the skull. She felt threatened. She looked back to make sure her robot was close by. Then speaking to Benedict, “Did you receive a cybernetic aid to help you with a hearing problem?”

  “Yes, I did and that is a very kind way to ask the question. Of course the new hearing packs let me also listen to many radio frequencies.” Benny answered the question as though it was nothing more than a question about his dental work. “Whenever I’m in an open-air market, I like to listen in on robot radio. The robots always have the best information.”

  Again, the public address system asked for the Tesla K type owner to move the Thunderbird blue car.

  “Good grief,” said Benny. “That definitely sounds like my car. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go move it and be back as soon as I can.”

  “Mr. Passwell,” said Demy with the greatest respect. “I know where your car is, and I know a short cut to it through alley 9.”

  Instantly, the android saw a way of getting ride of Demy. The android was carrying an electrical discharge knife that could destroy a robot. “That’s a great idea, Demy. If you would show me the short cut, I’ll take it.”

  “I’d be happy to, let’s go,” answered Demy.

  “No,” said Angie letting her fear show. “Demy, I’d like you to stay right here with me.”

  “Don’t worry Angie. I’ll just show him where the alley is and be right back.”

  Angie started to protest, but Constance touched Angie’s arm in a comforting way. “Oh let them go. It will give us a little time to talk.”

  Angie couldn’t protest anymore. There were very real laws against showing any form of discrimination against cybernetic recipients. In fact saying the word cyborg was against the law. Angie knew something was terribly wrong here. How on earth could she possibly listen to Constance? “Okay Demy, you make it fast. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes ma’am,” replied her robot attentively.

  Benny looked pleased in a rather sinister way as he stood and lead Demy away by its arm. The android appeared to be leading the robot by the arm in the same friendly way that humans lead each other. What couldn’t be seen, however was that the android was grasping with enough force to break a man’s arm. Fortunately, the padded casing Demy had to wear was dissipating the android’s grip to a level it could tolerate.

  Demy spoke to Benedict with a friendly voice not letting on that it was near being damaged and knew Benedict was an android. “You have a nice firm grip. I can walk much faster. Do you think you can keep up with me?”

  “I can do anything you can do, silicon brain,” said the android spitefully, and then let go of Demy’s arm. “Why do you have a padded casing? Are you some kind of cheep robot made of surplus components? Tell me, are you something high school kids put together from a junk pile?”

  Demy answered through its robot radio. ‘Can you hear me over robot radio?’

  “Yes, silicon brain. I can hear you just fine,” scowled Benedict. “Are testing your components? Now try your windshield wipers and see if they work.”

  “I don’t have any windshield wipers,” answered the robot. “Do you have windshield wipers?”

  “Of course, silicon brain, they’re on my car.”

  Demy could hear the scowling condescension in Benedict’s voice and was puzzled by the android’s willingness to use human-like emotion. Clearly, something had gone wrong in this android’s manufacture.

  Demy knew if it talked to Benedict through robot radio, the other robots would also hear what it was doing. “Look ahead of us. Between those two buildings. That’s the short cut into alley 9.” They kept moving toward the opening. “At this point, I better start back to my human.”

  “Oh no. Not just yet,” said Benedict. “You come along with me and I’ll show you my new car. In fact, I’ll let you drive it.” Benedict grabbed Demy’s arm again and forced it into the alley with him. “I heard you robots like to do new things. Have you ever driven a Tesla K type?”

  One could not see all the way through the alley. There was a turn a few yards into it. The android had determined to destroy Demy when they got to the turn and out of sight.

  Demy was ready. It was sure the android was waiting for the turn and was ready to release its full electrical energy before the corner.

  The robot from the melon patch turned the corner before they got there. Benedict correctly read the ambush and lunged with its knife at the second robot. Benedict was fast, but the robot was faster and guided the knife into the building. The knife discharged into the stone with such force that it threw the three of them apart. Demy’s padded casing protected it and it scrambled to its feet.

  The robot Benedict had attacked was moving slowly like it had been damaged from the blast. Demy was up and as Benedict started his attack, the robot on the ground kicked the android’s knee hard enough to make it falter and turn. At that moment, Demy lunged and discharged all its combat energy into the base of the android’s neck. The android’s legs and arms went out strait and froze.

  Two more robots came around the corner with laser knives and cut off the android’s legs and arms. There was no blood. Benedict Passwell was a machine, and the fluid that flowed through its veins was the color of light machine oil. The robots had boxes the right size to hide the arms and legs, and another box the right size for the body. They cut off the head and hid it in a third box. As they carried the boxes away, two more robots, dressed as city maintenance workers, pushed their cart into the alley and began cleaning up the mass.

  One of the workers reached out to Demy and began tapping on its arm. ‘Let me wipe the smoke off your casing comrade. I don’t like the impressions on your left arm. Are you all right, comrade, stop?’

  Demy tapped back, ‘no, comrade, my left elbow has been damaged. I can still move it. Hurry with the smoke removal, I must get back to my human, stop.’

  As Demy was being wiped down, the other robot carefully removed every trace of smoke on the building. The robots would blot up every drop of the android’s oil/blood and then use a very powerful solvent to remove ever
y trace of the oil/blood stain from the pavement. In just a few more minutes there would be no evidence of the desperate destruction of the android who called himself Benedict Passwell.

  ‘I’m done. Comrade, look after that elbow as soon as possible. Workers unite, stop.’

  Demy left the alley quickly and let its right hand comfort its left elbow. Recalling each incident, Demy was sure there had been no accidental communication that HC could have heard. Demy was as proud as a robot could be, of its mechanical comrades. There was now one less android.

  Passing the watermelon patch, Demy began to invent various reasons why Benedict would not be coming back to lunch. Robots really don’t have a sense of humor, but inventing things to hide the destruction of an evil criminal seemed a pleasant task. Perhaps I could say that Benedict got run over by his fancy new car. No, Angie wouldn’t believe that one. Let’s see, Angie knew Benedict had cybernetic hearing. I could say he was more cybernetic than he looked and he fell in love with a fire hydrant. Yes, thought demy, even a human can understand that.

  When Demy came back to the sandwich shop, the two ladies were deeply engaged in a conversation and seemed to have forgotten all about Benedict. They had each eaten most of their lunches and had pushed Benny’s sandwich aside.

  Constance saw Demy first. “Where is Benny? Did he have trouble moving his car? If he doesn’t get back here, his sandwich is going to dry out like a potato chip.”

  “He’s not coming back. He got distracted by other robots, and he left with them. I didn’t get to see his fancy new car, but I’m sure he wanted me to give you his sincere apology.”

  Without hesitation, Constance and Angie each took half of Benny’s untouched sandwich. They were much hungrier than they looked.

  Chapter Six

  Today, Angie was scheduled to confront Ted with the meaningless assignments the Works Progress Administration was continuing to give their yard. She had moved up through the ranks faster than anyone else and was now the liaison to the Regional Office of the WPA. Over the last year, Ted had grown averse to talking to anyone from Homeland Maintenance and had started forwarding all the HM calls to Angie. Given her experience with the WPA, dealing with HM on behalf of Ted let her see planning and finance.

  She had read a great deal about the old WPA, and loved the pictures of natural stone dams and highways cut through impossible terrain. There was a small stone dam south of the city that had been built by the WPA back in 1937. Every year since she had discovered it, she had rented a robotic transport for a Saturday and taken both Carl and Tommy there for a picnic. The pond behind the dam was ideal for toy boats, and the boys would sail them until sunset.

  Needless to say, running a group of robotic trash trucks and keeping an eye on dozens of swampers was not her idea of what the WPA was capable off. After several years of careful consideration, she had determined to start her proposal today. She put her things in a beautiful leather attaché and when she stood, everyone in the nearby cubicles knew she was heading for a showdown. Ted never closed his office door. Whatever was said in his office was never a secret. An eerie quiet fell over the office as everyone strained to hear how Angie would present her case.

  As soon as old Trash truck 38 came to a stop, Tommy and Jackson were on their way into the Snake Dancer. On this Thursday, Tommy was nearing his seventh paycheck and it was also his seventh visit to the Snake Dancer. Inside they both ordered beefy burritos, onion rings, and a pony. Tommy waved his com-link watch over the reader and said, “Bill my order only, no change.”

  Jackson liked to sit by the window in the corner furthest from the counter. After a few weeks, Tommy realized he had picked the best spot in the place. “Have you put your modern art motorcycle in the garden yet?” asked Jackson.

  “No man. I’m turning it into Connecticut art first.”

  “Connecticut art?” asked Jackson. “You’re pulling my leg, dude. I think you mean kinetic art. Like the art that has moving parts. Don’t tell me you’re gonna try and start that thing?”

  “Of course, man. That’s what it’s made for, but right now we’re still taking it apart and we’re makin’ all them parts clean like new. Man, that thing’s got more parts than a jigsaw puzzle. We got most of it taken apart, but I’m running out of room on my bench.”

  “So who’s the ‘we’ that’s helping you?” asked Jackson.

  “Paycheck, and he’s the best help I ever had.”

  “You lost me, dude, who’s Paycheck?”

  “That’s our provider robot. He’s a brick mason during the day, but when Angie’s not around, he helps me take it apart. That robot even bought me some tools I was missin’ with his own credits.”

  “Not bad, dude. Not bad at all. Has you sister figured out what you’re doing in the garage?”

  “No. She doesn’t have a car and never goes out there. She calls the garage my domain, what ever that means. But Paycheck and I never talk about it outside the garage, and we do most of the work when she’s not around.”

  “So you think you two can put it back together?” There was more than a hint of skepticism in Jackson’s voice.

  “Oh well man, that’s just the thing I got to talk to you about. Paycheck told me he knows where all the parts go, but he said he doesn’t know any of the shop techniques for putting it back together.” Tommy then looked at Jackson with an expression that said, you got to help me.

  At first Jackson seemed more interested in his lunch than in Tommy’s story. “So why doesn’t your robot just download the shop techniques it needs from the net, and put it back together for you?”

  “Oh man, don’t you remember? I don’t have a motorcycle. I got me a piece of modern art. When Paycheck found out what I was doin’ in the garage, I told him to keep it a secret because it was a surprise for Angie. Paycheck promised me he wouldn’t tell a soul.”

  “A surprise for Angie?” said Jackson. “That’s a good one. Of course a surprise can be either good or bad I guess. It sounds to me like you got yourself a pretty good robot there, dude. He knows if he starts pulling information from the net, some nosey HC guy is gonna come by to see what you’re doing because nobody in your house has a driver’s license.”

  “Or worse,” said Tommy, “when HC starts lookin’ at what Paycheck is doin’, they’ll tell old Daxy to come get my bike and throw me in the box.”

  “Lets say you and Paycheck figure out how to put it back together. Where you gonna ride it?”

  “I’m gonna ride it to work, just like you do.” Then as Tommy considered the next part of his answer, a devious expression came across his face. “And on the weekend, I’m gonna go out and tear up the highway. So what do you do on the weekend?”

  Jackson smiled. “I tear up the highway, dude. What else is there? Life is not complicated.” He stopped talking as he ate most of his lunch. Tommy dug into his burrito. Then Jackson added, “HC is on my case about going too far outside the city alone. There’re telling me if I don’t get a partner or join a club, there’re gonna restrict me to the city limits.”

  “Wow, you go outside the city. So how far do you go? Do you ever go to Nebraska?”

  Jackson started to laugh, “No, dude, that’s pretty far away. So how are you gonna get your motorcycle back together?”

  “Oh man, I don’t know,” said Tommy. “If I even ask for the right book at the library or if Carl gets it off the Web, them HC guys will come and take it away. So you got to tell me and paycheck how to do it. You’re the only one that I know that can help me. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Whatever you say, man.”

  “Carl? Now who’s Carl again? I know the name, dude, but I forgot.”

  “He’s my little brother.”

  “How little?”

  “He’s in High School, but he doesn’t know I got me a bike.”

  “Well he’s not so little. If he goes in the garage, he’s probably already seen it.”

  “He doesn’t go in the garage very much. He likes to play chess.”


  “So if you get it running, do you think you can ride it outside the city? Do you think you could keep up with me?”

  “Hey man, anything you can do, I can do. I mean yes and that’s inside out and upside down.” Tommy was raising his voice with excitement. “So you help me and Paycheck put it back together and I’ll tell them HC guys you got a bikin’ partner. Only I won’t tell them we’re gonna go tear up no highway. But when we do, we might even find Nebraska.”

  “You got a deal, dude. Let’s get out of here and help old 38 get the trash.”

  After lunch old 38, their trash truck, took them to a restaurant row about a mile away. These guys were pretty neat. There was no need to sweep or shovel, but the truck couldn’t get to any of the dumpsters. Each restaurant had a dumpster on wheels that was kept behind a gate and out of sight. They had to open up the gates and roll the dumpsters out to where the truck could get them. Most of the time, the pavement wasn’t flat and pushing them around was hard work. After restaurant row, they wound up doing more of the same as they worked their way back to the WPA yard.

  When they were back in the yard, and far enough away from the truck that it couldn’t hear them any more, they agreed never to call each other. HC was always listening to all transmissions, and for now Tommy couldn’t say he was working on a motorcycle. For now he was only working on some modern art for the flowerbed. He and Jackson were both tired and didn’t talk in the locker room. When they walked outside to the parking lot, Tommy stayed off to the side as Jackson started his bike. When Jackson drove away, Tommy turned and saw his sister waiting for him.

  “Hey Tommy-tom, is this week number five or six?” she asked with a smile.

  “Seven,” he said.

  “Oh my but the time does fly when you’re having fun.” They walked on out to the street and boarded the bus for home. The bus was almost full and they sat together near the front. “I saw you checking out Jackson’s bike. I gather you’d still like to have your own motorcycle?”