Stanley Duncan's Robot: Genesis

by David Ring III

  “I don’t care!” he shouted.

  Six grueling hours passed, and his movements became passably fluid.

  Despite the protests, the nurse remained smiling and continued to cheer him on. “Super job!”

  Power flowed through Teddy’s body. He’d learned all he needed to. Grasping the walker firmly, he whipped it to the side, sending it crashing against the wall. The time for stupid exercises was over — he had a man to kill.

  “You can do it, Teddy!”

  Damn right.

  Bitterness ran through Shannon’s core as she stood tall, wearing her highest heels and a short red dress — Evan had made her take off the floral one. Shannon was on the verge of a splitting headache, and everything he did annoyed her. He took so much pride in his little fuse-farm. Wanting so much to impress her, he was more than willing to physically force her into coming.

  She traced a semi-circle across her flat stomach. Evan had become a different man since the miscarriage. His bouts of anger had worsened. Coming home drunk, he would scream at her for not being in the mood. When her mind raced, she couldn’t get comfortable enough with herself, let alone another person. Was her failure to be intimate at fault?

  They were sitting in the lobby of a repurposed apartment complex, which Evan turned had into a fuse-farm. Small, bright fish swam in a large aquarium covering most of one wall. A mural of flowers wrapped around the other three — Shannon’s artwork. It had taken her months to paint them all and an energy she no longer possessed. Slouching down in a black leather chair, she couldn’t wait for this to be over.

  “Sit up straight,” said Evan. “You look like a slob.”

  She got up and turned to him. Her pretty red nails gnarled like sharp, bloody talons. About to let him know how much of a jerk he had become, the door opened, and in walked the most handsome man she had ever seen. Tall, handsome, and powerful were the words that she would later use to describe him, but he was so much more than that. Beyond the sculpted body that fit snugly against his perfectly pressed suit, there was an inexplicable serenity and confidence behind his light-blue eyes. He strode right up to Evan, not flinching in the least — unlike most men when they came face to face with Deputy Dickhead — his hand extending from broad shoulders, smiling with pearl-white teeth that must have been sculpted by a dental deity.

  Mr. Handsome said his name, but Shannon’s ears — and just about every other part of her — had stopped working.

  Evan shook his hand. “I hope the drive from Boston was pleasant.”

  “It was. Though I’m not used to the cold.”

  “How long has it been since you left the mega-tower?” asked Shannon, reddening. She imagined him processing every single one of her actions with his Cerebral Stitch, which every human-born cyborg from RaceX had.

  “Years,” he said, looking around. “Is this where the ceremony will be? It’s beautiful.”

  “It certainly can be,” said Evan.

  “Good. I’d like that.”

  When Shannon smiled, Evan refused to look at her. He never appreciated the good things that she did for him, everything she’d sacrificed.

  “Shall we?”

  Mr. Handsome nodded.

  Evan led the way down the hall. “This complex houses sixty units, with twenty beds per unit.”

  “Occupancy?”

  “We’ve been full for years. Twelve hundred patients and six full-time staff, including three nurses, two security guards, and a receptionist. And that’s at this building alone. Altogether, there are more than ten thousand patients.”

  They entered a former two-bedroom unit. There were four bunk beds in one bedroom, six in another, and ten in the living room. Tubes pierced the emaciated bodies lying motionless in every single bed. The walls were bare and skeleton-white, and the flooring was plain, cold concrete.

  The buzzing nagged at Shannon. She wanted to rip off one of the tubes and jab it into her vein, squeezing the bag of fuse until she became lost in sweet, eternal delirium.

  Evan wrapped his arm across the legs of one elderly man. “We’ve got most of the town living in our care and more coming every year. While we prefer our fellow man to lead meaningful lives, we’ll certainly accommodate those who choose not to.”

  “Some of them,” said Shannon, beneath her breath.

  Evan sneered at her.

  “This is excellent,” said Mr. Handsome. “And the paperwork is in order?”

  “Everyone is required to undergo a psychiatric evaluation and sign a consent form authorizing us to permanently treat them, which is then co-signed by a psychiatrist. These are copied in triplicate and saved at different locations.”

  “Have there been any deaths?”

  Evan glanced at Shannon. “Yes.”

  “Go on.”

  “Many of our patients come diseased and in pain, choosing to end their suffering by blissing out until the sickness takes them. Others succumb to old age.”

  “Is there any way of knowing they aren’t suffering?” asked Shannon. “That would be awful — like being stuck in a never-ending nightmare.”

  “Suffering in this state is impossible,” said Mr. Handsome. “The pain receptors have been completely disengaged.”

  She had been told to keep her mouth shut, but she didn’t care. “And what if they want to wake up? Aren’t we morally obligated to check on them every once in a while and see if they are doing well?”

  Evan shook his head. “If you ever saw a person come off of fuse, you’d know the answer to that.” He spoke dismissively, as if she were an idiot for even asking the question.

  “What does that mean?” she said.

  “That’s enough, Shannon. Let’s not waste any more of the man’s time.”

  “It’s fine, Evan. Listening to your words has impressed me.”

  Shannon smirked until a sharp glance from Evan caused her to bite her cheek.

  “I’ve seen dozens of people withdraw from fuse, mostly in the days before these safe resting places were established. The first thing you notice is the terror in their eyes. They look like a cornered animal. Then it’s the screaming. Awful, unending yells that rupture their own eardrums and rub their throats raw. If you’re going to survive after fuse, you’ll need an incredibly strong soul. Most people are weak, fusing up the first chance they get. Or they kill themselves.”

  A chill crept up Shannon’s spine.

  “And it is your work that has eliminated this. It’s no wonder the locals respect you so much.”

  “As a deputy, I work hard to keep the streets safe. As a man, I do my best to give meaning to people. I offer all I can to my fellow man, and when that isn’t good enough, I make sure their final wishes are respected.”

  “You sound like a politician.”

  Evan shrugged.

  “Which is something we certainly value. With the coming elections, Massachusetts could certainly use a man of your talent. A person of your ability will have no problem rising high in our organization.”

  Shannon choked on her saliva, silencing the cough with her arm.

  “I’ll continue to do my best in whatever position God grants me.”

  Shannon wanted to roll her eyes, but there was truth there. Evan had helped many people. But he was a huge jerk and had hurt many others, including her.

  “Tell me — have there been any issues with security?”

  Evan puffed up his chest. “None at all. As you say, the people of Marshfield respect me.” Evan lowered his voice. “A little fear goes a long way.”

  Shannon thought he was going to pound his chest and grunt like an ape.

  “I see. You’ve done well. Mask will be very impressed.”

  “First Marshfield, then Massachusetts, then the whole United States. All for the glory of mankind.”

  The grin on Evan’s face was sick
ening. But it didn’t make sense. Mask was a leader of technology; she led an army of human-born cyborgs and was pioneering the union between man and machine. Evan hated high-technology. Shannon had once seen him go into a fast-food joint and pour boiling oil over the face and into the mouth of one of the androids there. The synthetic flesh blistered and tore off in chunks. The business had insurance, but the store didn’t make it. Everyone was too afraid after seeing and smelling the poor female android’s face. They all knew who’d done it.

  To see Evan obey a representative from RaceX and act like everything was okay — well, he had to be plotting something. The ridiculousness of it all was too much, and Shannon chortled.

  Evan shot her a look of death.

  “RaceX appreciates your enthusiasm. I think we can all agree that the preservation of mankind is our top priority.” Mr. Handsome’s eyes focused. “And we are aware that you have had some problems lately with rogue AI.”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Shannon could tell Evan was acting. He was definitely up to something.

  “We are well informed of your capabilities.” Mr. Handsome turned to Shannon and scanned her. For the briefest of seconds — it felt like a jolt of electricity in her heart — she could have sworn he’d eyed her belly. “And of your unofficial policies toward machine life.”

  “I’m not entirely sure what — ”

  A gentle hand came up to silence him. “If there is indeed a reason for concern, be it a viral outbreak from malicious programming or a rogue agent, then we will act swiftly to squash it. Your policies will have served as an excellent testing ground for nationwide readiness.”

  Evan nodded carefully.

  “Of course, no such laws are currently in effect. Cyborgs and androids, while afforded some rights, are certainly not legal equals to humans. If there is going to be support for new legislature, existing laws must not be broken. For politics, it matters. For future constituents, it matters. And even more urgently, it matters that this evolving species, which follows a strict adherence toward laws and its personal well-being, must not feel unduly threatened. If machine life feels that humanity is a threat to their existence, we may end up in a war.”

  “We are already at war.”

  “My dear deputy, if that were true, none of us would be standing here.”

  “There’s been a recent outbreak of …”

  “Fearsome felines,” said Shannon, launching herself into a bout of laughter.

  Rage shaded Evan’s face. “And I, for one, am not going to stand by and let those machines hurt my fellow man. What’s RaceX going to do about it?”

  “I thought you had this under control.”

  “I do,” said Evan coolly. “But this won’t be the last time. They’re evolving, as you say, and getting stronger. If we wait any longer, it will be too late. We need support.”

  “We can’t eliminate a species because of the choices of a terrorist or two.”

  “And what will you say when mankind is on the brink of extinction because you failed to act?”

  Mr. Handsome stared at the flower murals and grinned. “As of now, we’ll back your order for non-authorized machine life to be confined indoors — unofficially. Show me evidence that machine life is being used as a weapon, and we’ll make it official. But most importantly, know that the world is always watching you, and behave accordingly. Your actions will either unite the planet or destroy it.”

  Shannon felt a chill. She couldn’t gauge Evan’s reaction. It seemed like he was processing the information. After the man left, she turned to Evan. “He certainly liked — ”

  A hard slap across her face knocked her to the ground, snapping one of her heels in two. She stumbled up to the chair, the pain searing her cheek. “You bastard.”

  “Don’t ever disrespect me again.”

  When Stanley ripped open the door, his heart sank. A savage battle was underway in the hallway. Blood was dripping down Boots’s fur as he dodged an attack from a small black cat. The hissing from the cats and screaming from Glenda was loud even for Stanley’s partially deaf ears.

  “Help him,” called Glenda through the slit in the bolted door.

  Stanley could see Mittens cradled in her hands. “Stay right there while I grab a broom.” Rushing inside, he nearly ran into Dan.

  “What’s going on?”

  “It’s a cat fight,” said Stanley, grabbing a broom. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “I can help.”

  “No — I’ve got this.”

  Glenda shrieked.

  Stanley locked eyes with Dan for a split second before rushing out. Boots’s body was limp. The black cat was clawing at Glenda’s door, stripping splinters off of it with its steel claws. Stanley stared, stupefied, unable to comprehend what was happening. This was impossible …

  “Help,” shouted Glenda, holding on to the door with all her might as the demon-cat tried to rip it open.

  Stanley raised the broom up and gave the cat a solid whack — it barely budged. Instead, the demon-cat stopped slashing chunks off the door and leered at him. With his heart rate tripling, he swung the broom again, but the cat caught it in its mouth and snapped it in two.

  “What the hell!” Images of being torn apart and eaten raced through his mind.

  The cat crouched down, pulsating. Metallic fangs flashed from its mouth as it hissed.

  Glenda watched through a two-inch opening in her splintered door.

  “Shut your door.” Stanley crept back until he hit a wall. There was nowhere else to go. He held the broken piece of wood in his hand, ready to duel, but he was no match for this mechanical demon-cat. It would snap his frail bones — just as it had done to the broom — and tear apart his flesh like it had done to poor Boots.

  The cat lunged.

  Stanley thrust the stick forward. If he couldn’t stop it, the least he could do was buy them time. He had to call the police. Why hadn’t he told Dan to call the —

  A flying kick slammed into the cat and sent it crashing against the wall.

  Stanley froze.

  Dan walked between him and the cat. “Leticia, we need nanites, immediately.”

  The cat shimmied, ready to pounce.

  Dan snatched the broom out of Stanley’s hands, smashing it into the demon-cat at the last second, breaking it off at the head. The cat slammed against the wall, landing on its feet, unfazed.

  “Okay. You want nanites delivered?” said Leticia.

  Dan gripped the broken broom, which had become a pointed spear. “Yes — it’s an emergency.”

  The cat eyed Glenda, pouncing toward her.

  She shrieked, shutting her door as fast as she could. There was no way she could match the feline’s speed.

  Dan rammed the spear into the demon-cat, pinning it to the wall. “The door, Glenda. Shut it now.”

  Razor-sharp scratches tore the broomstick apart. A final bite broke it in two.

  “Stanley, go downstairs,” shouted Dan.

  “I’m not leaving you out here alone with that thing.”

  “Don’t argue! We need those nanites now!”

  Scrambling downstairs, every bone in Stanley’s body was worrying about Dan. After crashing through the complex door, a roaring drone soared up to him and placed a package on the ground. Three syringes filled with a transparent red fluid lay inside a plastic case. Grabbing it, Dan realized where he was — outside.

  Stanley gasped for air as if he were drowning and grabbed the railing to prevent himself from toppling over. Expecting shock and disgust, he scoured the street up and down and found not a single face, let alone an upset one. The street was completely empty, not even a car passing by.

  The beats of his heart felt like punches. Slowly, the feeling in his hands returned: the overly tight clutching of the rail and the smooth plastic in h
is other hand.

  Snap out of it!

  When he arrived upstairs, the battle was over. The demon-cat lay in two pieces, its decapitated head inches from the newly dented condo door. Glenda was moving ever so slowly toward Boots. He scanned Dan and saw no sign of injury. “Thank God you’re safe.”

  “Do you know how to use the nanites?”

  Stanley looked down at Boots. “It’s no use, Dan. They can’t bring back the dead. I was too slow.”

  “It’s for Glenda.”

  Stanley was shocked to see blood pouring down her leg, leaving a trail along the carpet. Her face was ghostly pale. “Glenda?”

  At the mention of her name, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she collapsed.

  Dan darted out and caught her.

  Stanley couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed her serious injuries. Kneeling on the ground, he ripped her torn pants apart. Several deep cuts to her loose flesh were apparent. A vein at her ankle had been slashed open. He knew nanites could be ingested or injected. While he didn’t like the idea of stabbing Glenda, there was no way he was going to shove it down her throat. “How much do I put in?”

  “One syringe is enough, but spread it around the different cuts.”

  Stanley held the needle a centimeter away from the river of blood, drizzling it on.

  “You need to inject it into her flesh, otherwise, the blood will wash too much of it away.”

  The needle shook in his hand as Stanley plunged it into her flesh. It slid through without resistance or screams, and the bleeding stopped within seconds.

  Dan checked both legs. “You got all of the cuts.”

  “She’s lost a lot of blood. We need to get her to a doctor.”

  “Leticia!” yelled Dan. “We need an ambulance.”

  “Okay. Did you say you wanted an ambulance?”

  “Yes,” they both said.

  Stanley looked at Glenda, wondering if it might be faster if they went with her to the hospital. But he knew he couldn’t do that.

  “Dispatching now. The ambulance will arrive in three minutes, twelve seconds.”