by Brian Bakos
Welcome to the Fascist Era.
***
The storm troop rounded the final corner to the REX Hotel.
Bright afternoon sunlight bathed the scene: Workers bustling about with tools and building materials, a large group of onlookers standing on the sidewalk across the street – everyone enjoying the improved weather, everything peaceful and orderly.
Then, as if on cue, every face swiveled toward the onrushing assault. A collective scream shattered the calm.
“AHHHHHH!”
Sam poked his head out of an upstairs window. “Get in here, boys!”
The workers fled inside the REX and barricaded the doors behind them. The spectators tried to flee, but mech wolves quickly surrounded them and herded them into a compact mass.
Then the onslaught paused in its ferocious progress to await orders. Fascista Ultimo strode over to the captives and assumed his in-charge stance with hands on hips and legs wide apart. He thrust his tiny chin out dramatically.
“Remain calm, metal men, and no one will be harmed,” he said. “Resist and be destroyed.”
As if to illustrate the threat, a terrified robot broke from the crowd and tried to run.
“Get him!” Fascista bellowed.
Mech wolves instantly tore the robot apart.
Oh no!
A severe trembling began to take hold of Winston. He wanted to deactivate and escape all this madness. But somehow, he managed to calm himself.
“See what I mean?” Fascista said to the terrorized robots. “Now everyone keep still.”
The captives needed no further prompting. At a gesture from Fascista, five mech wolves detached themselves from the troop and began running westward.
They must be going after Ajax, Winston thought, if only I could warn him!
Fascista approached the entryway of the REX with Clawfurt and peered into the lobby. Behind the glass doors, the work crew had piled lumber, piping, and whatever other materials had been at hand.
“I figured on something like this,” Fascista said.
“Comrade Drone and myself can bash our way in,” Clawfurt said.
“I hope that won’t be necessary,” Fascista said, “but thanks for the kind suggestion.”
“Yes, Great Leader.”
Disappointment tinged Clawfurt’s mechanical voice. His great claw trembled with frustrated anticipation.
Fascista turned toward Winston. “See if you can talk some sense into them, Winny.”
“I’ll try, F.U.”
Winston moved to the center of the street and called out at maximum volume.
“Come on out, boys!”
Heads poked out of the upstairs windows.
“Listen to me, guys,” Winston said, “you can’t fight the New Order! Come on out peacefully, no one will be harmed.”
He hated the propagandistic language he felt compelled to use. The heads in the windows turned toward each other. A brief, unspoken, communication seemed to take place. Then they all nodded agreement.
Oh, thank heaven, Winston thought, they’re coming down.
But not in the way he wanted. A worker suddenly leaped out of a top floor window. Winston froze, time froze as well. The robot seemed to hang suspended in thin air like some horrible bird.
Then – Crash! He hit the pavement.
“Nooo!” Winston howled.
Two other robots jumped off the roof.
“Stop!”
Winston rushed to the REX sidewalk, flailing his arms. Bodies crashed on either side of him, a detached limb flew over and knocked off his hardhat. Winston staggered, but remained on his feet.
“Move aside, Boss!” a voice called from above. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Directly overhead, Sam stood on the hotel roof.
“No, I won’t!” Winston said.
Sam hesitated. Robots positioned in the windows looked up toward their foreman for guidance.
“I mean it Boss, get out of the way!” Sam cried. “There’s something awful going on here and we won’t be part of it.”
“Okay, if that’s how you feel, let’s go out together,” Winston said.
He closed his eyes and spread his arms wide. Sunlight warmed the temperature sensors on his upraised face, and a great peace took hold of him. Never had his existence been sweeter than now, with the end approaching –
“Okay, Boss,” Sam said, “we give up.”
He disappeared from the roof. Soon, all the windows were abandoned. Winston sagged with relief and more than a little disappointment.
“Good work, Winny!” Fascista wrapped an arm around Winston’s shoulders. “For a minute there you even had me fooled.”
“Yeah ... thanks, F.U.,” Winston said.
But there’d been no deception. Winston had had every intention of breaking Sam’s fall. He almost wished that he’d been reduced to scrap with the other suicides.
“I need every one of those slaves,” Fascista said. “Such plans I have!”
Sam lead a procession of robots out the REX front doors. Many of them looked plaintively toward Winston, but he avoided their gaze.
“Hands up!” Clawfurt barked. “Move left!”
The workmen obeyed, gathering by the corner under the snarling guard of mech wolves.
Fascista Ultimo stood dramatically surveying his victory. All around him were beaten, cringing metal men. He towered over these inferior beings like a colossus.
“And now to get my Ultimina,” he said.
27: Proposition for the Chairman
The true Fascist leader must give his followers the sense that their rotten little prejudices are something exalted and pure. – Manifesto of Roboto Fascism
Ajax rotated himself toward the sounds of conflict.
“Something seems amiss within my city,” he said. “I must investigate!”
He began climbing down from his pedestal, a slow and laborious process for a robot shorn of its head. He lost his grip on the slick granite and fell sprawling into the dead grass.
Lying on his back, his optical sensor staring off blurrily into the sky, he ran a quick diagnostic and determined that he had suffered no injuries. He got back to his feet and flexed his stiffened limbs.
Actually, it was rather nice to get down for a while.
He began striding purposefully toward the town. But before he could leave the traffic circle, he spied five Iridium type creatures charging at him. Ajax held out his hand.
“Halt!” he cried in his most commanding voice.
But the howling and snapping mech wolves paid no attention. They drove Ajax back until he was jammed against the pedestal. But just as they seemed about to pounce, they halted their advance. Then they withdrew a small distance.
Ajax braced his arms against the granite as if he were holding up the edifice and regarded the semi-circle of bared fangs hemming him in. Growling filled his auditory sensor. True to his programming, he felt no fear, only a great need to exercise caution.
Well, does this not suck the big one?
***
Early the next morning, a huge drone robot appeared and delivered a recorded message to Ajax:
“This morning hails the first full day of the Roboto Fascist Era in Mech City under the inspired rule of Fascista Ultimo! Our Great Leader proclaims a new discipline and an end to disorder. Henceforth, all robots will take their rightful places with renewed purpose. Suicides are officially banned!
“All Humanites who give allegiance to Fascista Ultimo will prosper in the New Order. Any who oppose him shall have a date with the recycle bin – no exceptions!”
The drone handed Ajax a paper copy of something titled The Six Tenets of Roboto Fascism and then departed without further comment. The mech wolves remained in place, however.
Ajax studied the paper through the Cyclops optical sensor in his chest.
What the hell is this?
He’d listened to the announcement with great interest, weighing its contents against
the imperatives of his programming. He liked the part about renewed purpose and a ban on suicides.
Ajax himself had a great purpose – guarding Mech City against intruders. But hadn’t the activities of Winston Horvath already put an end to the suicide jumps, what need was there for further action?
And if this “New Order” was such a worthy thing, why did it need mech wolves to enforce its dictates? Ajax had no doubt that the creatures would tear him apart if he tried to flee. And, frankly, the Six Tenets seemed downright loony – especially the last one.
He’d just to have wait for answers. It certainly didn’t look as if he’d be going anywhere for a while. He settled himself back against the granite.
“It is nice of you fellows to keep me company,” he said.
The mech wolves made no reply.
***
The waiting ended the next day when an astonishing visitor clanked into view.
My gosh, it is Nilo – and he is swinging an oversized carcass!
The drone who had delivered the recorded message accompanied the Nilo composite monstrosity. It carried a large canvas bag this time.
“Sorry to keep you waiting so long,” the Nilo creature said.
Righteous indignation flared in Ajax’s circuits, but a measured response seemed prudent under the circumstances.
“No trouble at all,” he said, “I am accustomed to standing immobilized for long periods.”
“I’ve been really busy, you know,” Nilo said, “this Big Kahuna business takes more time than I’d imagined. I hope you found your companions to be amusing.”
“Yes, they are one million laughs,” Ajax said.
At a gesture from the Nilo thing, the mech wolves retreated several paces. They stood back with the drone now, but their eyes and ears were on full alert. Enlightenment finally dawned on Ajax’s auxiliary brain.
“You must be Fascista Ultimo!” he said.
His visitor gave a slight bow. “At your service.”
Then Fascista straightened, and a hard look came into his eyes. “Actually, Ajay, you need to be at my service.”
“Oh?” Ajax said.
The next comment did not reach Ajax’s auditory sensor, rather it came through his radio unit.
“Is your radio still working, Ajay?” Fascista asked with a low-powered signal over the standard frequency.
“Uh ... yes,” Ajax replied, also over the standard frequency.
“Good,” Fascista said. “These others need not be party to our discussion. We Humanites must conduct our affairs discreetly, you know.”
The more Ajax was in the presence of this hybrid atrocity, the less he liked it. Still, Fascista had considerable force at his disposal. Ajax was programmed for honesty, but prudence told him that he could not safely express his true opinions.
“Is there some manner in which I can be of assistance?” he forced himself to say.
“Right to the point, I like that,” Fascista said. “How’d you like to be my right-hand man? By that I mean secretary of the Roboto Fascist party.”
Ajax jerked with astonishment, all words failed him. A genial smile spread across Fascista’s countenance as he reached over a massive hand and patted Ajax’s shoulder.
“I know this must be quite a surprise,” he said. “Few are called to such lofty service.”
“What would I have to do as the ‘party secretary?’” Ajax said.
“Well, the fun part is that you get to boss around the metal men,” Fascista said, “kick their iron behinds whenever you want.”
“How charming,” Ajax said.
“Yes, quite.”
Fascista motioned to the drone. The idiot robot approached and handed over its bag, then withdrew with an obsequious bow.
“And you get to wear this fine new cabeza,” Fascista said.
He pulled a dummy head out of the bag. It looked like something off a classical Greek statue – strong chiseled features, jutting chin, gleaming blue eyes fashioned from medicine bottle glass. Long dark hair flowed from its scalp.
“It has no brain, of course,” Fascista Ultimo said, “but that’s no barrier to being a good Fascist.”
Ajax grasped the head gingerly. “This is very ... elegant.”
“Think of it, Ajay,” Fascista said, “the metal men would tremble at your approach! You’d have unchallenged authority, answerable only to me. No more standing out here in all weathers getting dust in your joints.”
“Mmm.” Ajax suppressed his growing distaste. “And what is the not-so-fun part?”
“As party secretary, you’ll get blamed whenever things go wrong,” Fascista said. “After all, I can’t ever make a mistake, that would violate the most sacred tenets of Roboto Fascism.”
“So, I would take the heat, even though I am not at fault?” Ajax said.
“Precisely,” Fascista said, “and when things get too bad, you’ll be kicked out. It’s no big deal, though. You simply return to your post the next day equipped with a new cabeza, and nobody will be the wiser.”
“Very ingenious,” Ajax said.
“You’ll start out as Commandante Ajax, after that you’ll be Cloroxo Supremo, then ... well you get the picture.”
“I am curious,” Ajax said, “how is a Humanite different from a metal man – except for superficial appearances?”
“Such naiveté!” Fascista chuckled malevolently. “Read the Manifesto, Ajay, it explains everything.”
He pressed a copy into Ajax’s hands.
“A weighty volume,” Ajax said, trying not to sound sarcastic.
“Yes,” Fascista said. “I wrote it all by myself, too.”
“Indeed?” Ajax said. “May I have some time to study it thoroughly? That could take a while, since I am missing most of my intelligence.”
“Of course,” Fascista said. “I want only the most convinced adherent as my party secretary. You can have thirty days as a guest at my hotel. After that, the real work of building the Roboto Fascist state begins.”
Another monstrosity wheeled into view. This one had a huge claw attached to its right arm. In its left hand, it carried a red banner on a weaponized staff. Two mech wolves accompanied it.
“Ah, the honor guard has arrived!” Fascista said in his audible voice.
Clawfurt froze at attention. “What is your command, Great Leader?”
The grating voice irritated Ajax’s audio sensor, like fingernails scratching along a chalkboard to a human ear.
“Escort the party secretary candidate to his new quarters,” Fascista said.
“Yes, Great Leader,” Clawfurt said.
Fascista motioned to Ajax. “After you, Ajay.”
The mech wolves formed into a phalanx around Ajax; Clawfurt rolled in the lead, banner fluttering. They left the traffic circle en masse, heading for the REX Hotel.
Things were happening so quickly! If Ajax had a head, it would have been spinning.
***
A few moments later, Iridium disengaged himself from the shrubbery and followed the procession, unobserved.
28: The Dust Settles
The state is creator of all that is good and true. – Manifesto of Roboto Fascism
Winston prowled the hotel corridors on his final inspection round. The jingling of his antiquated keys made the only noise in the dead evening, along with the patter of his mech wolf assistants’ paws.
He glanced down at the two savages walking alongside him – Ripper and Fang, as he’d come to name them. They looked back up at him with barely restrained violence lurking in their reddish eyes.
Oh man, how did I get myself into this?
He wished the hotel was still the old derelict he’d first discovered weeks ago. At least he’d been there by choice, and the ghostly emanations had been far less terrible than the misery now oozing from the rooms.
His latest series of alterations had turned the REX Hotel into a prison, or to use the official title: the Re-Education eXchange.
His work
crews had barred or bricked in the exterior windows to deter escapes and suicides. They’d cut little view holes into every cell door and covered them with wire mesh. As a “reward,” for their services he’d assigned the best workers to the least dreadful cells. Many of them now occupied the same rooms they had competed for in their prior existence as free laborers.
The flimsy wooden doors could not withstand a determined assault, of course, but with mech wolves prowling every floor, escape into the hallways was inadvisable. The more rebellious types, like Jimmy and Sam, who might actually consider breaking out, were bound with chains.
Every little view hole that Winston passed revealed an identical scene – dejected metal men sitting on their cots and staring at the floor, counting the minutes until inactivation time. The few that looked back at him did so with indifference, if not outright hostility.
Two to four robots populated each room. Every metal man in town was here, except for Jack and Quincy who continued their work at the RDI under the close guidance of their mech wolf “staff.”
Winston paused at Jimmy’s door and peered in. His once loquacious foreman now sat despondent with his legs chained to an iron cot frame which had been bolted to the floor. Directly above him, a dim electric fixture illuminated his misery.
“Are you okay, Jimmy?” Winston asked through the wire mesh.
The construction robot swiveled his head up and stared at Winston for a long moment. Then he nodded and looked away again.
No enthusiastic “Yeah, Boss!” any more.
Winston moved on, feeling about as big as a mech bug.
He entered the elevator with his assistants and zoomed upwards. He hated being in such a confined space with the beasts, but the thought of them slinking behind him up the stairs was even more distressing. And the moments of oblivion he experienced during the ride were a welcome relief.
He exited on the top floor and approached the large cell occupied by Ajax. Two rooms had been combined into an “executive suite” which, aside from Winston’s quarters, constituted the only inhabited space on the penthouse level.
The warrior robot was standing at his window gazing out through his Cyclops optical sensor. His hands, one of which gripped a copy of the Manifesto, were crossed behind his back. The window was not obstructed because Ajax had promised that he would not try to jump, and his word was accepted by everyone, even F.U.
Winston desired to say something to Ajax but dared not, fearing that some unguarded comment might find its way back to F.U. via the mech wolves. Ajax was an extremely high-value captive who was best left alone, barring a directive from the top.