by Brian Bakos
“What do I have to do?” Winston asked.
“Just act like a boss.” Jimmy handed over the clipboard. “Stand around holding this, and write something down once in a while.”
“I can do that,” Winston said.
“Let them see your authority,” Jimmy said. “Give the boys a sense that they’re part of something big. Chew somebody out now and then if you like.”
Winston fondled the clipboard. It felt right and powerful in his hands, like the tablets Moses received on Mt. Sinai.
16: Reconstruction Commences
All day long, workers ripped out the decayed guts of the REX Hotel. The entire place echoed with their smashing and tearing. Carts that had once transported human remains now bore away loads of rotted carpeting, mildewed wallpaper, old lumber and pipes.
An exterior crew tore off the leaky roofing materials and sent them tumbling to the street below. Under Jimmy’s personal direction, a select squad knocked out the walls of Winston’s room, expanding his quarters into the adjacent areas.
“You’ll be the first tenant to move back in,” Jimmy promised.
He’d already arranged temporary quarters for Winston above the hardware store where he would be in the immediate neighborhood.
Winston observed the progress with growing satisfaction. As each load of rubbish departed, more of the REX ghosties went with it. He performed no real supervision – Jimmy and his assistant foreman, Sam, did all that – but he enjoyed looking authoritative and receiving deference from everybody.
The obsequious greetings rang sweetly in his auditory sensors. Jimmy even provided him with a bright yellow construction hardhat with BOSS emblazoned on the front.
Winston explained the situation to the crowd of observers:
“I thought it was time to breathe some new life into the neighborhood,” he said. “I had this project in mind from the moment I first hit town.”
Star dropped by in the late afternoon, just as Winston was directing the removal of a big load of scrap lumber, including the blood stained floorboards.
“Be careful, men,” Winston said. “Don’t drop anything.”
“Hello, Winston,” Star said.
He turned toward her. “Star! How good of you to come.”
“My, such a commanding presence you have, Boss,” Star said. “I’m very impressed.”
Winston drew her away from the work crew and lowered his voice.
“Oh, come on, Star,” he said, “it was all your doing. I wouldn’t have known where to begin if you hadn’t sent Jimmy.”
“I was hoping you’d say that, big boy.”
Winston turned back to the workers. “Carry on, men.”
“Right, Boss!”
Winston led Star across the street where they could watch the renovation work from safety. The crowd of observers parted, leaving an open area on the sidewalk for them.
“This is the best thing that’s happened to Mech City in a long time,” Star said.
“Quite so,” Winston said. “It’s put the spring back into everybody’s step, hasn’t it?”
They stood around several minutes observing the work. For the first time since he’d left home, all seemed right with the world to Winston. Under his direction, a fine new building was taking shape – a beacon of hope for every robotic life form in Mech City.
And Star was standing close by, just barely touching him, her perfume scenting the air.
“Say, Professor,” a robot in the crowd inquired, “do you need another worker on the construction crew?”
“Go see Jimmy,” Winston said. “Tell him you’ve talked with me.”
“Right, Boss!”
The robot jogged across the street. Winston observed him with satisfaction – another robot redeemed. Then a jarring note sounded.
“Ugh, look who’s here,” Star said.
Nilo was coming slowly toward them, gripping the arm of his massive drone assistant with one hand and wielding his cane in the other. Fritz and Edwina accompanied the strange pair.
“That guy’s like the plague,” Star said. “He’s always showing up unwanted. He’s got those brats with him, too.”
“I know what you mean,” Winston said. “He’s just a harmless old crank, though.”
“Maybe he’s not so harmless,” Star said. “There’s something really spooky about him, and I don’t like that big drone he’s always with.”
Winston shared Star’s distaste for the old robot, but he was also pleased that Mech City’s senior resident would take the time and effort to visit the great building project – Winston’s great project.
“I’ll just say a quick hello,” Winston said. “Public relations, you know how it is.”
“Winston ...”
He walked toward Nilo. The crowd moved into the vacuum of his absence, surrounding Star.
“Good afternoon, Nilo,” Winston said. “So, what do you think?”
Nilo nodded, his head bobbing like that of the pet turtle little Charles had once owned. A thin, pinched smile spread across his wizened face.
“You certainly have a way with those metal men,” he said.
“Yes, they’re good workers,” Winston said. “They do require a firm hand, though.”
“We need leaders like you to keep things in line,” Nilo said.
He grasped Winston’s arm and gave it a feeble squeeze. Winston felt oddly complimented, but a bit chilled at the same time.
“Uh, thanks, Nilo,” he said.
Fritz and Edwina looked on politely, with respect almost. Their former rambunctiousness seemed to have deserted them in Nilo’s presence.
“I wish I could offer the services of my drone valet,” Nilo said. “He’s quite strong and follows directions well.”
Winston studied the massive drone with its idiotic bulb head and blank eyes. Yeah, the damn thing looked strong enough to tear down walls bare handed. Why did Nilo require such a wrecking machine just to help him walk around?
“Unfortunately I can’t do that, however,” Nilo said, “I’d be quite helpless without him. He’s almost part of me now.”
“I quite understand,” Winston said.
The old robot nodded again. “Yes, yes ... well, I really must be going now. Talk to you later, Winston. Count on that.”
The drone turned Nilo gently around and escorted him back the way they’d come.
Fritz bowed stiffly. “Good-bye, Professor.”
Edwina offered a little curtsey. “Have a nice day,” she said.
“Good-bye,” Winston said.
He took off his helmet and stroked the back of his head. Grit had worked into his simulated hair.
“There goes an odd bunch,” he muttered.
He looked back toward Star but could not see her in the crowd.
17: History of the REX
Getting the rottenness out of the old hotel took a while – days of flying grit and mold, unsavory aromas, ripping and scraping. Not a very cerebral atmosphere. Winston was glad to take a few hours off for a visit to the city library. Maybe he could learn something about the REX’s history from the archives.
He intended to enter by the front door, but a rather troubling sight caught his attention first. Dozens of charred books were heaped in the parking lot alongside the building. Winston detoured to the extinguished pyre and stooped to pick up a volume. He could not make out the title.
“Weird!”
He tossed the murdered book away.
No sense trying to figure out the vagaries of some deranged human with a Nazi book-burning complex. The person, or persons, would be long dead, anyway. He approached the back entrance and took in another disturbing sight: the door had been shattered and lay off to the side in pieces.
“Some real scholars have been here,” Winston observed.
He adjusted his optics to the lower light and beheld a huge presence blocking the way.
“Oh!”
Winston stumbled back outside. A huge drone robot advanced and stoo
d in the doorway. Its blank face registered nothing as it stared toward Winston.
“Who’s there?” a voice called from within the building – Nilo.
“Uh, Winston Horvath.”
“Welcome,” Nilo called, “come on in!”
The drone stepped aside. As Winston maneuvered through the narrow hallway, he had to almost press himself against the giant hulk. It stood absolutely still, insentient, like an outcrop of the brick wall.
“Lovely day, isn’t it?” Winston said.
The drone, of course, made no reply.
The main library looked as if it had been vandalized. Numerous windows were shattered, and a pile of furniture blocked the front entrance. For an added note of unpleasantness, Nilo sat reading at one of the tables. He seemed right at home among the ruin – stooped, wizened, ugly. He looked up from his book.
“Nice to see you again, Winston,” he said. “Don’t mind my assistant, he’s always getting in the way. A bit big for his britches, you might say.”
He chuckled – a dry, hollow sound scarcely audible in his tinny speaker unit.
“Sure, Nilo.”
The old test bed robot turned in his chair to face Winston directly. His movement was slow and pained; Winston recalled the dreadful condition his own joints had been in not long ago.
“You’ve come here to exercise the old brain circuits, eh?” Nilo said. “Get away from the metal men for a while?”
“Yeah,” Winston said, “I’d like to read up on the town a bit, see if I can learn something about the REX’s history.”
Nilo gestured toward the rear shelves. “I believe you’ll find what you’re looking for back there.”
“Thanks.”
That was the sum total of their conversation. Nilo soon departed with his drone, but the old robot’s personality seemed to linger behind like a sour odor.
After some determined digging through dusty volumes and old newspaper files, Winston located some material about the city’s history, and that of the REX Hotel ...
The REX had been a Mech City landmark since well before the town was known as “Mech City.” Long before the robotics industry took root and the legion of “mech head” technicians came to live and work.
The hotel started out as a fashionable destination for travelers who had come to visit the nearby hot springs. Later, when the springs dried up, the REX morphed into a gambling casino and reputed high-class brothel. After that, many walls were knocked out to make apartment suites, and a luxury penthouse was added to the roof.
Finally, it degenerated into a residence for the city’s down and out circle. The apartments were subdivided into small rooms, and the penthouse was wrecked by vandals before it was torn down altogether.
For decades it was an abandoned eyesore and survived only because the rest of the area around it had decayed so much that nobody cared if it remained standing or not.
Then, sixteen years ago, a mysterious religious cult – under the leadership of a youthful messiah figure – took possession of the REX. Their official name was: The Brigade of the Transcendent Vision. But they were more commonly known as “Visionists” or, “the Brigade.”
They made some repairs and sequestered their membership within the hotel. They renamed the place the Holy Temple of the Transcendent Vision.
“The letters on the floor!” Winston cried. “Ugh!”
He glanced around furtively to see if anyone had overheard his outburst, but the library was still empty. He returned to his reading.
Rumors of strange rituals and other goings on emanated from the Holy Temple until the regular citizenry became alarmed. The presence of such a dubious group was not in keeping with Mech City’s burgeoning reputation as a center of learning and technology.
One night, a vigilante band attacked the REX, threatening to burn the place down. Only timely police intervention stopped the mob from carrying out its intent. A news article gave details:
Arson Threat Deters Religious Group
An alleged religious cult, Brigade of the Transcendent Vision, has vacated the REX Hotel after a Devil’s night mob attack. The approximately forty members of the group were last seen confronting a torch-wielding mob in front of the REX. Police disbursed the mob, and no arrests were made. No injuries were reported.
When officers returned this morning for a follow-up investigation, they discovered that the REX had been abandoned. Police captain Benny Kilpatrick states that the group had left behind none of its belongings.
“They simply vanished,” Kilpatrick said, “as if they’d dropped off the face of the earth.”
A large amount of fresh ash in the hotel’s incinerator suggests that they had burned documents and ceremonial apparatus.
The group, which has occupied the REX since early April, is led by 13-year-old “messiah” figure Roderick Barnett. Barnett’s guardian and “chief acolyte” of the group, Charles Camp, was unavailable for comment ....
After this mysterious event, the REX returned to its un-splendid decay – an abode for whatever riff raff who cared to enter. The municipal government planned to raze the neighborhood and build upscale housing in its place, but the wars and plagues put a stop to such notions.
Then Winston Horvath had arrived.
18: Prelude Diabolique
After the gutting, ripping phase of the project came the rebuilding. The old REX Hotel began to emerge, reborn, from its decay.
The construction project absorbed the interest of everyone in Mech City. The work crew members gained increasing status among the other residents; Jimmy and Sam assumed the rank of minor nobility; and at the summit of the hierarchy stood – “Boss” Winston Horvath.
When he arrived at the construction site each morning, the crowd of spectators greeted Winston with applause.
“Thank you, my friends,” he replied with a jaunty wave. “Great day to get things done, isn’t it?”
“Maximum effort, Boss!” the crowd chanted back.
Winston drew strength from the mass approval. The abrupt cessation of suicide jumps added to his feeling of significance. He’d brought meaning and purpose back to Mech City. As long as he was in charge, everyone would prosper.
Actually, Star and Jimmy were responsible for this. But he’d given the necessary approval, hadn’t he? He was the one wearing the BOSS helmet, wasn’t he?
The REX Hotel had become the most desirable address in town. The workers vied fiercely among themselves for the remodeled quarters on the first four stories. Winston arbitrated these disputes, and no one doubted his fairness.
He hadn’t forgotten the other robots, either. The transport of furnishings and building materials required a great deal of labor. Pretty much everyone in town got a chance to work. Everybody was hooked into the REX project, one way or another. Winston became almost as admired by the crowd as the rock stars had been among the humans.
Then he recalled the hotel’s unsavory history, and his enthusiasm cooled. The last time a crowd had gathered outside the REX, things had not been too pleasant. Public approval could “turn on a dime,” as the old saying put it.
One day you’re a hero, the next you’re a bum, he thought with some uneasiness.
His memory banks contained numerous precedents – Benito Mussolini hanging by his heels, Richard Nixon waving good-bye from the helicopter steps, other once popular leaders departing in disgrace, their careers shattered by one calamity or other.
But that couldn’t happen here ... could it?
***
Quincy and Jack frequently joined the crowd of spectators outside the hotel, sometimes for many hours at a stretch. After several days of this, they had fallen behind on their own projects, so they scheduled a night shift in their workroom to catch up on things.
Jack busied himself with electronic diagnostics while Quincy modified a component on the precision grinding machine.
Whirrrrrrrr! the machine whined.
“You know,” Jack said, “I wish we could get
rooms at the REX. It’s the ‘In Place’ to be these days.”
Quincy glanced up from his work. “What?”
“Room at the REX,” Jack shouted, “be nice to have one!”
Quincy powered down the machine and raised his goggles.
“Not much chance of that,” he said, “Winston’s got to take care of his workers first. There won’t be anything left over for us.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jack said. “I hear he’s reserved the whole top floor for himself, the ‘penthouse,’ he calls it.”
“That’s a lot of space for one robot,” Quincy said.
“Maybe he can let us have some of it,” Jack said. “I figure he owes us. Without our help he’d still be rolling around on that scooter.”
“Good point, Jack.” Quincy dropped the goggles back over his optical sensors. “Let’s talk to him about it tomorrow.”
“I just hope that new radio we installed doesn’t act up any time soon,” Jack said.
“Yeah, that wouldn’t put him in the best mood, would it?” Quincy flicked the grinder back on.
For the next several minutes, Jack tried to concentrate on his work at the computer station. He had almost succeeded in turning out the grinding machine racket when another noise intruded.
Thunk!
He jerked his head up. “What’s that!”
Quincy glanced over. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“I don’t suppose you could with your face in that damn machine,” Jack said.
“Well, pardon me.” Quincy shut off the grinder. “If you can figure out a different way to resize this component, I’m all auditory sensor.”
Jack stood up and motioned toward the door. “I’m sure I heard something. It came from the hallway.”
“Go check it out, then,” Quincy said.
“Well ... I don’t know,” Jack said. “It sounded kind of scary.”
Quincy tossed his goggles aside. “Looks like I’ve got to do everything around here, as usual.”
He strode across the workshop and flung open the door. Then:
“Ahhhh!!”
Quincy retreated, horror flickering in his optical sensors.
Jack scrambled up from his chair. “What’s wrong, Quincy?”
“It’s ... uh ... uh ...”
Quincy stumbled backwards and knocked over a tool cart. The contents scattered on the floor in a glittery cascade.
“Watch out there!” Jack rushed to Quincy’s side.