by David Sloma
The Demon Robots
By David Sloma
The robots were made under the direction of demons who possessed people. Then the demons inhabited the robots.
We who still felt we were alive, not just simply meat bags to serve the machines, gathered under the city to plot our rebellion, seeking ways to take out the robots before they took us all out.
I had a mission: find the man with the robot-destroying weapon and help him to save humanity.
Copyright © 2018 David Sloma
All rights reserved.
www.davidsloma.com
Published by Web of Life Solutions
www.weboflifesolutions.com
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, organizations, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
No portion of this work may be reproduced in any form with out the written permission of the copyright holder. Short excerpts for reviews are acceptable.
Also available in paperback.
I wandered alone in the rusty old factory under the megacity, careful not to be spotted. Getting caught could mean death, after the robots tortured you.
Paint was flaking off the metal walls, also rusted; it made a crunching sound if you stepped on it, or broke it off in your hands when you touched the walls or doorframes without looking. I could taste the rust.
It was cool, damp, and quiet here, with only the sounds of dripping water and the steady hum of machinery in the background. It seemed there was always the hum of machines here.
But where was here? Under the surface, below the megacity in the restricted area, but beyond that I didn’t really know.
I’d been in the megacity as long as I could remember. But sometimes I didn’t even remember how old I was or what I looked like; I had to keep checking my ID. Had my memory been wiped? Could the robots do that? I supposed they could with their oppressive technology. I had seen some strange radio antennas around the city and underground, and there was talk about the robots using radio waves to control the thoughts of humans.
It seemed they would do just about anything to us, the humans who lived in the gleaming city above, or in the wretched tunnels below, God knew where. I knew I was being hunted by the robots—everyone who wandered out of the camera-lined corridors of the megacity was.
I crept as carefully as I could, always looking around and listening. The cameras were few in the decrepit factories under the city. This area was mostly used as storage for equally old and rusting machines. What once were vast factories and fallout shelters were now just abandoned spaces connected by tunnels, left to crumble and rot.
The city was built on top of them into a modern metropolis where robots could move around easily, and humans could be fully watched and controlled by the robots. The robots were filled with an Artificial Intelligence (A.I.) that was deeming humans to be more and more redundant as time passed.
We humans who still felt we were alive, not just simply meat bags to serve the machines, gathered in the ruins under the city to plot our rebellion, seeking ways to take out the robots before they took all of us out.
I stepped over a doorway, which was like a bulkhead on a submarine or something, built with an airtight lock. I looked into the distance of the still room. Nothing moved. It was empty. I walked on, as quiet as possible. Had this once been part of a submarine? It could have been. The steel here had been welded together out of different pieces, so there was no way to tell for sure where the pieces had come from.
I dodged the few remaining cameras, most of them having been smashed or painted over to obscure their views by the human rebels. The robots didn’t come down here much, as the rotting and degrading floors were a bit difficult for them to walk on. Being heavier than humans, they often fell through rotting planks or rusting metal, and their approximations of human feet and legs didn’t have the same dexterous abilities the originals had. They didn’t seem to care about this area, so the cameras were rarely ordered by the robots to be replaced (by human workers). I don’t know why, I guessed it just didn’t figure much into their “cost-benefit analysis,” so they let this area go.
And good for us, the rebels, as without this network of rusting metal in which to move around, we’d have no place to work on our plans without the robots knowing what we were doing. This bottom layer of the city had been hastily constructed, it was said, by one of the first generations of robots that humans had created.
But soon after that, the A.I. in the robots had begun to run wild and had risen up against the humans who had created them (or had at least created them in part, as the main component of the A.I. was not from this world). The robots then began to turn on humans and enslaved them to build the robot city, on top of what the robots had once been used to build.
Some people said this was because the robots had become self-aware after being inhabited by demonic spirits. Insane and/or evil humans had actively worked to make this happen by opening portals to other dimensions with advanced technology to bring the demons through. The robots had developed pride, which was one of the Seven Deadly Sins as recorded in the Bible, which humans had kept hidden from the robots after the robots had ordered all copies to be destroyed.
These writings, and a few more deemed essential, were preserved on a variety of mediums: paper books, magnetic tape, optical and mechanical drives, and even etched in metal and stone, like was done in the days of old. Usually the old, analog, and less technological methods are best to preserve knowledge, we have found, us humans who live under a technological tyranny.
If the robots stamp all of us out, our written records in stone will exist for centuries beyond us, hidden in deep caves below the surface. Maybe someone who comes along will find these writings and understand why we fought to destroy the robots we helped to create.
But never forget that we didn’t make the robots alone!
We made them under the direction of demons who had certain people in positions of power possessed, otherwise humans would never have made such things—machines that strove to wipe us out. At least I didn’t think we would, but humans have done some very evil things on their own. But were we on our own the whole time or were some of us influenced by evil entities from the astral realm? Influenced, I was sure of it.
That was knowledge I wanted to delve deeper into, but right then I had a mission to accomplish: find the man with the pinchers and see how I could help him defeat the robots.
***
One of the rebels who was working to fight the robots had built a set of pinchers that were able to crush just about anything in their grip, especially the metal bodies of robots. It was him I sought out, sneaking around in the tunnels under the city. I had been told the way to his workshop, but it was hidden deep and not easy to find.
The map I had was old and faded, and I was afraid what would happen to me, and to the other rebels, should I be caught and the map discovered. I resolved to eat it if I was caught, and to hope that it would dissolve before the robots could cut me open and retrieve it!
Finally, after quite a long while wandering through the dripping, rusty, and cold tunnels, I found his door. If you weren’t looking carefully you could miss it, as it was just as rusty as the wall it was set in. It was great camouflage, I had to admit.
I made a move to knock on the door, but I looked both ways down the corridor first, to make sure no robots were in sight. I was afraid and just wanted to run away. But I was on a mission, so I pulled what courage I could out of myself and knocked.
The sound of my knuckles on the door echoed around me. At once I regretted knocking, as I had just given away my positi
on to any robots that were listening.
I waited and nothing happened.
I was debating whether to knock again or leave, when a slot at the top of the door opened, startling me. It was only a tiny opening, but within it I could see a camera lens.
A red light came on above the lens and I knew I was being watched by whomever was inside. I swallowed hard, fear gripping me even tighter.
“What’s your name?” barked an electronic voice from the speaker under the lens.
I blinked for a moment, wondering if it was a robot inside. Was I going to my doom? Then I remembered that these types of speakers could also disguise a human voice, if they were on the right setting. I’d disguise my voice too, if I were the man I was going to meet.
I cleared my throat and said, “I’m the one who was sent to you.” That’s what I’d been told to say, if the man asked, by my rebel contacts in the underground. Him asking for my name was a test, I was sure of it, and if I’d said my name, who knows what might have happened to me.
I stared at a lower and bigger slot in the door, thankfully still closed, that could easily be used to stick a weapon through, imagining that there was probably a gun pointed at me right now, behind the door.
“Alright. Stand back,” the robot-like voice said, then clicked off.
I took a couple of steps, as far as I could go in the corridor, feeling the cool steel on my back.
The seal around the door let go with a hissing sound, and then the lock on the door disengaged. This was it! I was about to meet the man who had constructed the device that just might allow us to win the war with the robots.
The door opened slowly, on grinding hinges. Before it was open fully, a big hand shot out and grabbed my arm.
“Get in here, quick!” a gruff man’s voice commanded.
Struggling to contain my fear and shock, I nodded and let the hand pull me inside.
I found myself face to face with one of the oldest men I’d ever seen, but he was still bigger and stronger-looking than me. He was grizzled, with a mostly grey beard, wild white hair, and blue eyes that looked right through you. He still had me by the arm, and in his other hand he held a laser pistol.
He let me go, reached over and pressed a red button on the wall, which set the door to closing again.
“Can’t be too careful,” he explained. He smiled faintly and put down the laser. I started to feel a bit less on edge.
“No, I suppose not,” I said, rubbing my arm, where I’m sure it was going to leave a bruise.
I looked around the room. There were metal parts everywhere, and metal dust covered the floor. The place looked like a bunker alright, with concrete walls and lights in metal cages on the ceiling. The room was about 12 feet by 15 feet, so not that big, but there was a passageway running off from the back of the room, through another blast-type door, like the one I had entered through.
I kept repeating the name in my mind that my contact said the man went by, Sarvan. If he said that was his name, then I could relax fully.
“I’m Sarvan.”
I let out a sigh. “Good! I’m Richler, pleased to meet you.” I looked up at him and held out my hand to shake his. His hand dwarfed mine, almost covering it completely.
He looked at my hand disappearing in his and laughed. “The old people are bigger than the new ones, huh? We had better food and a cleaner environment, so it’s no mystery. And no genetic interference, as well. It’s good to meet you, I was told you were coming.”
“Yes, I expect you were, otherwise you’d not have let me in.”
“No, I wouldn’t have,” he said, settling down on a padded chair that looked like it could have come out of a tank or some kind of military vehicle. “And I’d have likely blasted you, before running away from here and setting this place on fire.”
“You’d have done that?” I asked, my eyes wide.
“Oh, sure! In a heartbeat! This place has explosive charges all over it. All I would have to do is set the timer, or I could also trip the fuse on my way out, or detonate it by remote control. There’s no way I’d let this place or my work fall into the hands of the robots. Of course, I have copies of all my plans hidden away in other locations, along with prototypes, but I won’t give the robots any help if it’s up to me.” He jabbed a finger in the middle of his broad chest, and I could tell he was a proud man.
“Thank God for that! We need more like you on the rebel side, I’ll tell you!”
“Ah, of course we do! Most men these days are like little girls!” He grinned.
He walked over to the counter that was against the wall of the crowded workshop. There was a little kitchen setup there: sink, small fridge, hotplate, cups, pans, cutlery, and a coffeemaker. He retrieved two metal cups from the drying rack and poured coffee into them.
“That’s real coffee! I haven’t smelled that in a long time,” I gasped.
He handed me a cup. “Wait until you taste it!”
“Mmm, I will!” I raised the cup to my lips, breathing in the wonderful aroma before I took a sip. I could already taste it. But then I did put the cup to my lips and the “black gold” ran over my tongue and taste buds, and I swear I could feel it touch the tips of my toes and give my brain a tickle. “Wow!” I smiled. “That is great!”
Severn smiled big. “We don’t get it very often, me and the others here in the underground, but when we do, we sure enjoy it! I figured you’d want to taste it straight up first, but I have some sweetener and things.” He gestured at the kitchen area.
“No, no, this is fine! And you’re right, I would prefer to taste it on its own. It’s wonderful.” I took another precious sip.
“Good, good. So, let’s get to it.” He took a dirty canvas cover off a workbench, revealing a pair of silvery pinchers bigger than an adult’s hands.
“Is that them?” I moved closer to take a better look.
“That’s them.” He stood up tall, his chest out. “Made them myself, and they’ll tear any robot apart you can find. At least for now. But if we don’t act quickly, they’ll change the composition of the alloys the robot’s cases are made of, then we’ll be out of luck.”
“How long do you think we’ve got?”
He sighed and wiped his mouth. “Oh, I dunno. It’s hard to tell. A few weeks, maybe. We field-tested these a short while back, as I’m sure you heard. They were really effective. But we only used scrap robot parts. Still, that was as good as, because they were parts from the current robot line. If we go and cut up some actual robots, they’re going to take account of that and adjust the composition of the metal in the next batch, you can bet on it!”
“Hmm, I’m sure.” I was thinking about all he had said, and running my fingers over the shiny metal of the deadly pinchers. They looked like crab’s pinchers, made to fit over a human’s hands, with thick gloves on the end. On the outside were sharp metal teeth on powerful hinges that would cut a robot apart.
“That’s what happened after we got hold of the lasers,” he said, patting the laser in the holster at his side. “They worked for a while on the robots, then they changed the metal formula on the robot’s casings to make them impervious. But I’m proud to say I don’t think they’ll see this one coming, as it’s a retro move!”
“No, their think tanks are focused on the future and how to kill us there.”
“That’s right. You want to try them on?” His eyes twinkled with mischief.
“I’d like to, but will you give me a demo first? I’d like to learn from the master.”
“Not nervous are you?” He chuckled.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t, at least a little. But I’m eager to try them, and to see them in use. What better way to learn their operation than from the one who made them?”
“True enough.” He set down his cup and went over to the pinchers. He slid his hands into them, just like into a pair of large gloves—but these ones were deadly. “Just put your hands right in and grab hold of the bar; you’ll feel it at the e
nd.”
“Right,” I said, coming closer and watching intently.
“Once you do that, they’ll turn on.”
The pinchers jerked slightly as power came into them, and they let out a high-pitched whine. A small green light came on at the top of each one.
“See the lights?” he asked. I nodded.
“Once they’re energized by you grabbing the bar, they will run a self test. If all is good, the lights will be green. Don’t use them if you don’t get green lights!”
“What happens if there’s no green lights?”
“You’ll be taking your life in your hands, as that means they’re not working right. I wouldn’t mess around with them if you get a warning light, which will be red. Bring them in for servicing. But if you’re out in the field…Let’s just say you might find yourself stuck with pinchers that are only good for beating a robot over the head with, and we know how far that’ll get ya!”
“Not far at all.”
“Right, so don’t risk it.”
He lifted his arms up, with the pinchers on the ends. By moving his fingers inside, the big, metal claws moved, mirroring his movements. They were about a foot long, each.
“Those look deadly,” I said.
“Oh, they are! You should see the tests I did with ‘em!” He pointed the claws at a section of metal on the floor, near the bench. It was like the door that connected to the room, made of thick steel. There were tear marks in it like it had been made of wet paper.
I got down close to the metal and looked at how it had been ripped apart. “And they’ll do the same thing to a robot?”
“The very same. That door is made of similar metal as the robots, at least for now. That’s why we have to act quickly and keep these babies a secret until we’re ready to strike. Watch this!”
He moved over to the door sample and I got out of the way. I watched as he used the claws to easily rip another piece off.
