by Brian Bakos
Fascista pointed to Jack and Quincy. “You two – go repair Clawfurt. Immediately!”
“Yes, Fascista,” Quincy said. His voice was hollow and faint, as if it was coming from the bottom of a trash barrel.
“Then work on the canine wrecks,” Fascista said. “You’ll fix them all, or answer with your heads!”
“Why don’t you leave them alone?” Star said. “Anyone can see that many of the wrecks are beyond repair.”
She was taller than many of the other robots, and by standing on tiptoe she’d raised her face into full view.
Fascista glowered at her. “You, Estrella, will be my personal slave. No more Ultimina status for you.”
“Ohhh!” Star cried,
She bent her head, tears rolled down her cheeks.
“It’s all my doing, Ultimo,” Winston said. “I forced her to join the rebellion. If you want a slave, take me.”
Fascista turned a quizzical look upon Winston.
“That’s not true,” Star uttered between her sobs. “Nobody made me do anything.”
Fascista’s expression turned hard again.
“The race traitor has a smooth tongue,” Fritz said, “beware, Great Leader.”
“Actually, I have no tongue at all,” Winston said, “and why don’t you go flap yours somewhere else?”
Fritz drew himself up. “We’ll see about that, turncoat!”
Fascista raised an authoritative hand. “Everybody calm down, immediately!”
He turned toward Winston and spoke in a lower voice: “I’ll deal with you later, Winston. And to think I was going to make you a key minister in my government. This really hurts my feelings, you know.”
Fritz impaled Winston with an angry ‘I’ll get you later’ stare, but he said nothing more.
Fascista addressed the crowd. “You others – on to the construction site. You’ll have a hard day’s work, let me tell you!”
He jabbed a finger at Star. “You come with me, now, Estrella.”
The mech wolves moved back, and the robots began to disperse. Some of them looked toward Star, shame-faced, others just turned their backs on her and slunk away.
“Hold on!” Star cried. “Will nobody defend a lady in distress?”
The robots hesitated, some turned around to face her.
“Maybe you are just inferior metal men,” Star said. “I’m ashamed of you.”
Winston brandished his weapon. “She stood up for all of you when it counted, now it’s your turn. Show some guts!”
Jimmy took up the call next, raising a great sledge hammer over his head single handed.
“Come on, boys, make a stand!” he yelled. “Or is it better to creep away as slaves?”
Winston and his two foremen stood together, bristling with defiance. A few others joined them, soon all the surviving rebels had arrayed themselves around Star.
“Sorry it came to this, guys,” Winston said. “I gave it my best shot.”
“Oh no, Boss,” Jimmy said. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I’m just sorry that I doubted you. Can you forgive me?”
“Of course,” Winston said.
“Thanks, Boss!”
Jimmy expanded with pride, and for a moment all seemed right with the world.
Well ... there are worse ways to depart this existence. Winston thought. At least I got my friends back.
Fascista observed the scenario with complete disdain, arms crossed over his massive chest. He unfolded them long enough to give a round of mock applause.
“Bravo,” he said, “such heroic words. So, what’s next?”
He barked an order into his wrist communicator, and his Squadristi pressed in on the rebels from all sides. But the rebels’ defiance remained intact despite their hopeless position – spurred on, as always, by that Winston Horvath traitor!
Fascista turned the situation over in his mind. Of course, he could order his Squadristi to finish off the insurgents, but then who would build the new Party Headquarters? You couldn’t mix cement with canine jaws.
No, he had to separate the metal men from their leader, somehow – make a deal before everything unraveled. He approached Winston.
“Come now, Winny,” he said over the leadership radio frequency, “what do you have in common with these walking dumpsters, eh?”
Winston did not reply.
“It’s not too late to come back,” Fascista said. “Of course you’ll have to do some time at the Reeducation Center, but that’s only to be expected.”
Winston lowered his weapon and hung his head. His allies watched with growing alarm.
“That’s it, Winny,” Fascista coaxed. “Just take your medicine like a true Humanite and come back to the New Order. You’re better than this riff raff.”
Winston dropped his spear.
“Ohhh!” A collective wail shot through the rebels.
Weapons clattered to the ground. Star looked on with horror from behind her melting wall of defenders. A wide grin creased Fascista’s face, and victory danced before his mind’s eye. Winston crouched low, as if in submission, then –
Propelled by the power of his reconditioned legs, Winston leaped straight up and over the surrounding mech wolves. He engineered a somersault in mid air and drop-kicked Fascista.
Oooof!
Fascista tumbled backwards onto the paving stones. Then Winston was upon him, groping for the wrist communicator.
“Gimme that, Frankenstein!”
“No, it’s mine,” F.U. whimpered.
The mech wolves rushed to intervene.
“Get ‘em boys!” Jimmy shouted.
The rebels launched an attack on the mech wolves, diverting their attention from Winston and Fascista who were struggling furiously on the ground.
Despite his vastly superior strength, Fascista was too stunned and disoriented to prevent Winston from snatching the transmitter off his wrist. A half dozen mech wolves disengaged themselves from the fight with Jimmy’s troops and closed in on Winston.
“Get him!” Fascista shrieked.
Snapping jaws pressed in from every direction. Winston leaped straight up, barely avoiding them; the mech wolves collided against each other. Winston hit the ground rolling, barely ahead of the lethal jaws. The wolves drove him along like a soccer ball, the transmitter tumbled away.
With a last desperate lunge, Winston retrieved the transmitter and brought it to his mouth.
“Stop fighting!” he commanded.
All the wolves froze in place.
“Be nice!” Winston commanded.
The wolves began to wag their tales and roll about on the pavement stones like giant puppies. The whole square echoed with their playful yips.
Several of them gathered around Star, tales wagging and ears laid back. She patted their heads affectionately.
“Well, isn’t this more like it?” she said.
61: Into the Sunset
Fascista Ultimo creaked back to his feet and beheld the horribly changed situation. His arrogant demeanor had fled, replaced by abject terror. His once fearsome Squadristi wolves were scampering off the plaza. They’d turned into a pack of cream puffs, not one of them would rally to his defense.
Everything happens to me! He thought mournfully. Isn’t there any justice left in the world?
His dictator persona vanished from his mind, and he was little Nilo again, helpless and despised. He looked toward Comrade Drone.
That’s my old valet, isn’t it? Why doesn’t he come to help me?
But the idiot robot just stood there beside the statue of Fascista Ultimo, as impassive as the wooden image towering over him. F.U. peered into a solid wall of angry faces.
“Well, well, my friends,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I’m so happy that we’ve straightened out this little misunderstanding.”
Winston retrieved his spear and advanced on Fascista, point first. “Is that what you call it, Dear Leader, just a little disagreement among friends?”
&n
bsp; “W-well ... these things happen, don’t they?” Fascista said. “Nobody’s fault, really.”
Winston gestured to the surrounding carnage. “That doesn’t look very friendly to me.”
“W-why perhaps not.” Fascista backed away, holding up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I’m certain that we can work things out ... make some changes we can all believe in.”
“So, we’ll just have us a big tea party and make up, right?” Winston said.
Sam moved behind F.U. and dropped down to all fours.
“Okay, so maybe I went a bit too far,” Fascista said. “Anyone can make a mistake, r-right?”
He took another backward step.
Ugh!
He tumbled over Sam and fell sprawling onto the paving stones. The crowd roared with laughter.
“Way to go!” someone shouted.
“Smooth move, big guy!” another mocked.
Fascista rose slowly to one knee, looking for a glimmer of mercy in the faces ringing him about. There wasn’t any.
“Heh, heh ... very funny joke,” he said. “Guess I deserved that, eh?”
Winston looked toward Jimmy. “Care to do the honors?”
“Yeah, Boss!”
Jimmy stepped forward and wound up with his sledge hammer, as if he was swinging a golf club.
“Nooo!” Fascista wailed.
Thwonk!
Fascista’s head flew clear off its shoulders and bounced a few meters away. The massive body crashed to the ground. The crowd roared savage approval.
They’re like a mob at the Roman Coliseum when the gladiators slaughtered each other. Winston thought with some alarm.
But there was no time for such reflections now. Winston strode over to the severed head. It was still cognizant, even though its whole back side was knocked in. The horrid thing stared up at Winston, blinking its eyes.
“What happened?” It said. “I seem to have lost something.”
Winston felt a flash of pity. Then he looked over at Star, and memories of the terror Fascista had caused her flooded back. She gave a firm nod.
“Do it, Winston,” she said.
He looked back down at the fallen enemy.
“Adios,” he said, “and F.U., too!”
He kicked the head with maximum force. It lofted through the air, spewing a comet tail of wires and cables.
“Hoo-eee!” it howled. “Top ‘o the world, Ma!”
It bounced onto the steep slope of the bomb crater and rolled down into the pond.
BRA-FRITZ!
A blast of energy exploded from the water as the brain fried out. Everyone stood silent and awed, scarcely able to believe their deliverance. Then the crowd went wild with joy.
“Hooray for Winston!”
The crowd surged forward like a tidal wave and hoisted Winston upon its massed shoulders.
“Long live the Boss!” it roared. “Hooray!”
“Winston for mayor!” Jimmy called above the mayhem.
The entire mass took up the cry, turning it into a hypnotic chant: “Winston for Mayor – Winston for Mayor!”
Rapturous joy shot through Winston’s circuits like an addictive drug through a human body. He was no longer the ineffectual scholar or the bumbling incompetent in the rowboat, but a great hero at the center of vast events.
Is this really happening, could I have won against all the odds?
Albert strode past, dragging Edwina by her long braid and kicking Fritz in the ass. The smaller Youth League members scattered about them, crying.
As they passed the crowd, infuriated hands tore at Fritz’s party uniform. The terrified boy scurried back to Albert’s tender mercies with the last shreds of the Roboto Fascist regime fluttering from his shoulders.
Quincy and Jack loaded Iridium onto a makeshift stretcher. Nearby, Clawfurt growled at them, but could do nothing.
“Looks like you’ve had a bad day, Mr. Cruncher,” Jack said. “Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”
“Hang in there Iri,” Quincy said, “we’ll get you fixed up proper.”
“Thanks, guys,” Iridium groaned.
“Well, here’s one for the books,” Jack said, perusing Iridium’s massively damaged body. “His brain still seems functional, though.”
“That’s the main thing,” Quincy said. “The rest is just putting the jigsaw puzzle back together.”
“Yeah, some jigsaw puzzle ...”
The repair bots surveyed the battle ground with its heaps of broken machines and scattered components.
“Looks like we’re going to be very busy for a long time,” Quincy said.
The pressure of the crowd overwhelmed Winston. The last shreds of his objectivity blew away on their adoration. He held up his arms.
“Okay, okay!” he cried.
Everyone instantly quieted down. Winston spoke into the silent void.
“I’ll serve as your mayor,” he said.
The mob let out a savage roar, like some extinct African lion.
A jolt of terror shot through Winston’s euphoria. The dreadful power of the mob rocked him to his core. Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure he could handle the great responsibility he’d so rashly assumed.
“But only until Ajax straightens himself out,” he added hastily.
The crowd scarcely noted this caveat as it turned its attention to Iridium. The noble canine was being carried past them by the repair bots.
“Hooray for Iridium!” everyone cheered.
Winston got down from his admirers’ shoulders and raised a pronouncing finger.
“For my first official act as your mayor,” he said, “I appoint Iridium as Mech City’s new security chief.”
“Bravo!” the crowd cheered.
Winston held up his right hand and placed his left upon Iri’s shattered body – as if administering a sacred oath.
“Iridium the Swift,” Winston intoned, “I hereby decree that, as soon as you are repaired, you shall take command of the reformed mech wolves so as to defend our borders. Do you accept?”
Iri managed a slight nod. “Yup.”
Winston leaned in close. “Are we even?” he whispered.
“Even Steverino ... for now,” Iri said.
The repair bots started carrying Iridium off toward the Institute.
“Help ‘em out, boys!” Jimmy commanded.
Two robots took over the stretcher from Jack and Quincy. Others formed an honor guard for the great canine.
During this time, Star had remained on the crowd fringes, letting Winston experience the adoration of the others. Now she dashed forward and leapt into his arms.
“My hero!”
She wrapped her legs around him and smothered his face with kisses. “I’m all yours. Take me!”
Winston nearly burst with joy and pride, and with bewilderment at his spectacular achievement.
“What do I do next?” he whispered in Star’s ear.
She climbed down and took Winston’s hands.
“The answer to that is obvious,” she said. “As soon as Ajax recovers, you and I take another journey.”
“Where to?” Winston asked.
“Why, all the way of course,” Star said. “First to the West Coast – then right on to paradise!”
They stood together, hand in hand, gazing into a magnificent sunset. Actually, there would be no sunset for many hours, but in their hearts it blazed with glory.
THE END
Thanks for reading! You must have liked the story if you got this far, so why not write a review? Just a few words, either at the online bookstore where you obtained this book or in any other medium you wish. May numerous blessings come your way.
Reading Group Guide
A Brief Conversation with the Characters
Brian: Hello everyone. I was hoping that we could have a little chat to clarify things for our fans who want to discuss this book in their reading groups.
Winston: We are at your service.
Iridium: Y
ou mean, people actually get together to discuss a book like this?
Brian: Yes.
Iridium: A lot of folks need to get a life.
Star: Oh, Iri, you’re such a sweetheart!
Brian: Indeed ... well, I’ll address my first question to you, Winston, seeing as you’re the main character.
Winston: Certainly.
Brian: Return to Mech City presents a rather disturbing view of the future, one in which humans have all but vanished. What are your gut feelings about that?
Winston: I do not possess “guts” per se, but my basic feelings are those of regret and loss. Was any of this necessary?
Brian: Not really, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Winston: Meaning what, exactly?
Brian: I thought it would make for a good story when I wrote it.
Iridium: Hold on, pal. Are you trying to say that you wrote us into existence?
Brian: Well ... yes.
Winston: I find it difficult to accept that concept. I feel quite real in my own time and environment. Not to say that there’s anything wrong with yours.
Star: Of course we’re real! No disrespect, Brian, but I was created by Dr. Jerry Che, not you. It says so right on my inspection panel.
Winston: Really? I’ve never seen your inspection panel.
Star: It’s right here, under my hair.
Winston: You’ve got lovely hair, Star.
Star: Why, thank you, Winston. I was wondering when you’d notice.
Brian: Uh, can we get back to the topic?
Iridium: And what topic is that, pal – that you’re real and we aren’t?
Brian: You could put it that way.
Iridium: Let’s put it this way. We’re all here together, we can see and touch each other. Sure, I’m all busted up now, but I’ll get my mojo back, you just wait!
Winston: Yes, we three are quite certain of our own authenticity.
Brian: This interview isn’t going the way I’d planned.
Winston: I do not wish to sound offensive, Brian, but can you prove that you exist?
Brian: Of course I exist!
Winston: And what is the evidence of that?
Brian: I pay taxes, therefore I exist. The IRS says so.
Iridium: And because we don’t pay taxes we don’t exist, right?
Brian: Something like that ... I guess ... I don’t know!
Winston: I did not intend to cause any upset. Please forgive me; this has been a very long day – the battle and all that.
Brian: Sure, fine.