Caleb felt his face flush slightly. “Still got it.” Then as if he was asking himself, “Jealous?”
Jennifer rolled her eyes.
As casually as he could, he made sure his fly was zipped. It would have been disappointing to discover that that was the reason for the eyeballs.
ROCK-EM-SOCK-EM ROBOTS
THE INTERIOR OF the gymnasium was geared toward boxing and mixed martial arts. The upper walls were adorned with moving graphics of assorted men and women posed in fighting stances. Temporary stadium seating was squared up around a caged octagonal fighting ring. The place was packed. Caleb, Jennifer, Spruck and Natalie had to sit two with two behind.
Taking it in, Jennifer said, “Now this is my kind of joint.”
Caleb said, “Still seems like a stupid way to auction off a bot.”
“Darwinism, baby,” said Natalie. “If one gets wrecked, folks wouldn’t want it anyway.”
A spotlight isolated a man dressed like a 19th Century PT Barnum—coat-tails, top hat and all. He stepped into the octagon and walked around, a spotlight following him. “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention, please? We at Patmore Gymnasium would like to welcome you to a unique sporting event. An event like none other in the System. Banned on Earth and by mutual agreement within the Saturn System, today you will see a spectacle that we have all talked about, but haven’t seen since all the bozos back home decided to lobotomize themselves. A battle, not to the death mind, but to a standstill, with a round of applause deciding the final outcome. This will be followed by an auction, also unlike any seen before.” He paused for effect, then began walking again. “As you all are aware, the product is for all intents and purposes, sentient. Converted during last year’s nano-assault on Hanson, these bots have chosen, of their own free will, to be auctioned off—and, for the first time, the product itself, will decide who is the winning bidder. All non-bidding patrons are welcome to stay throughout. Please feel free to add your voices of approval or dissent as the process proceeds. Root for your favorite! Now a quick note of safety. Be gravity smart. We’ve had a few incidents during past tournaments when audience members became, shall we say, overly enthusiastic? I want to remind you that a strong physical reaction to the events unfolding can cause bodily harm to you and others around you. It shouldn’t have to be repeated, but it does. The weak field magnetics that we all rely on to counter the lighter gravity can be easily overwhelmed, and, well… Patmore Gymnasium is not responsible for patrons injuring one another intentionally or not. Please keep your feet in the foot straps below your seat. Now, without further ado, I present tonight’s entertainment.” The ringmaster stepped to the side, raised his arm and the center of the stage/octagon was floodlit to reveal an open pit. Triumphant music coincided with an elevator rising up from the pit and leveling off with the stage floor. Standing in the center were a baker’s dozen of androids dressed in an assortment of garish costumes, the epitome of an over-the-top pro-wrestling match.
Jennifer leaned into Caleb. “This is going to be fun.”
He nodded in agreement, “You do love your beat’um up action.”
Eight of the robots were commercial models, male in appearance and designed for extreme conditions. Their faces represented an assortment of human races, but they were otherwise identical in height and build. Two female and one male design were clearly pleasure models. The male had long flowing hair, rivaling the females—his pecks and abs on full display.
Natalie leaned into Spruck. “I may not be into robot love, but that one does wet the appetite.”
Spruck said, “Once you’ve had bot, anything else stinks of rot.”
“Um, ewww.”
Jennifer said, “OK, that’s just gross and wrong.”
Caleb laughed and pointed at the two remaining models; both female. He said, “Doomed.”
The two were slight in build with barely enough shape to define them as anything more than generic bald white domestics. One had Asian features, the other Caucasian with a turned-up nose common to Irish ancestry.
Spruck said, “Maybe they’ll be pitted against each other.”
Jennifer looked at her auction tablet. “Maybe. Says randomly chosen.”
The Ringmaster was joined by a male pleasure model dressed in a g-string and body-hugging top sporting the gym’s flashing logo. The Ringmaster held his hat toward the line of robots. “Each of these sentient bots is holding a chip with their name printed on it.” He prompted the bots. They all held a chip above their heads for the audience to see, then dropped them into the Ringmaster’s proffered hat. He shook the hat and held it out to the G-string bot while saying, “There will be three bouts. Cheesecake, here, will draw four chips for the first and second rounds, with five units… em, individuals making up the third. Remember, this is not a contest to see who is the last bot standing, rather, it’s a show of skill and adaptation. When three minutes is up, the bout is over.” He nodded at Cheesecake, who drew 4 chips and read them out.
“Carlos, Ginger, Klaus, and…“ The bot slightly cocked its head, “Killer.” It glanced up at the one known as Killer. Killer offered a very sinister human smile and blew Cheesecake a kiss that said, I’d kill you too if I could.
The Ringmaster noticed his own mouth hanging open, recovered, and said, “Right, match one is set.”
The remaining robots stepped to the center of the stage where the elevator returned them below. That left the four fighters with Cheesecake and the Ringmaster. Three of the fighters, including Killer, were the big commercial jobs, the fourth, Ginger, a pleasure model. Cheesecake followed the Ringmaster out of the cage.
The bell rang. Immediately, Killer threw a roundhouse kick into Klaus’ neck and used the rebound to drive his heal into Ginger’s temple. Klaus’ legs buckled, the neck shot having scrambled the communications trunk running from his head to the rest of his body.
The crowd gasped as Ginger toppled to the floor and Killer followed with another driving kick to the same temple, sending an audible crack around the room. The light in Ginger’s eyes went out.
The Ringmaster’s face grew a bit pale, and he glanced at a box seat with mirrored glass in front of it.
“Damn,” said Spruck. “Mashed her central processor right off the bat.”
Klaus recovered quickly. He and Carlos went at Killer as one, sending a stream of blows at the machine. Killer parried each strike efficiently while getting in a few good blows himself. Rapidly, the clothing on all three was shredding. Carlos delivered a severe kick up into Killer’s chin, snapping his head back at an angle that would have been a sure death blow to a human.
The crowd let out a unified, Whoa!
The Ringmaster charged to the side of the cage blowing a whistle while an assistant simultaneously rang a bell. The bots stopped fighting and stood with their hands at their sides.
The Ringmaster spread his arms and smiled at the crowd. “Good! Stopped! At least they’re playing by the rules.” He looked at Ginger. “Sort of.” With Cheesecake close behind, he warily stepped back into the ring and glanced down at Ginger. The bot’s head was slightly caved in.
“New rule! No smashing central processors.” He looked at Killer, avoiding eye contact. He whispered, “Uh, your mess, big fella. You pick her up and take her down to repairs with you.”
Killer nodded assent and roughly lifted Ginger like a broken dangling doll.
The Ringmaster raised his hands and held them out to the audience, clapping. They joined him as all the bots stepped to the center of the stage and the elevator dropped them out of sight.
Cheesecake picked four more chips out of the hat. “Pat487, Candy, Silvio, Bruno.”
The Ringmaster barked out, “And the next contestants are coming up!” As the crowd cheered and applauded, he and Cheesecake made a quick but dignified exit.
The elevator platform returned with the four new bots. Candy and Silvio were the other two pleasure bots, Pat487, the Irish looking domestic, and Bruno, a commercial. Candy
and Silvio glanced at each other in anticipation of the bell. When it sounded, they launched themselves at Bruno, who had been gunning for the domestic. Silvio kicked Bruno’s legs out from under him just as Candy jumped in the air and threw her legs around his head in a scissors move.
The crowd erupted in a cheer, then gasped as Pat487, in a flash, delivered a roundhouse kick to Candy’s head, knocking her off of Bruno. Bruno nodded a thank you and slammed an elbow into Silvio’s neck.
The crowd roared its delight.
Bruno grabbed a handful of Silvio’s crotch and squeezed down hard.
The pleasure bot yelled out in agony.
Spruck winced. “Their stuff is as sensitive as ours. I know.”
Candy got herself back to her feet and backhanded Pat487 in the face, while simultaneously delivering a sharp kick to Bruno’s crotch.
Bruno laughed and squeezed Silvio’s equipment harder and delivered another blow to the neck.
Spruck said, “The commercial jobs, not so much.”
Eyes squeezed shut, Silvio desperately tapped out. Bruno heard the ringmaster’s whistle and let go. Candy found herself facing both Pat487 and Bruno. Before they could strike a joint blow, she tapped out as well.
Bruno sized up Pat487. The smaller bot simply stood, ready to receive any blow without protest.
The crowd screamed for robot blood. Instead, Bruno smiled and held out a hand. Pat487 nodded assent and shook it.
The crowd booed in response. The Ringmaster stepped back inside with Cheesecake behind. “OK then. Unexpected.” He raised his hands again and prompted the audience to clap.
The four bots stepped to the center of the mat and descended below.
The Ringmaster removed the remaining chips from his hat. As the five other bots rose up on the elevator platform, he said, “And for the grand finale, we have T892, Fran, a rare female commercial.” He looked at the next chip. “And this one is Link… and…” He paused and looked at the fourth chip twice. “Uh, this one goes by Smith & Jones. And finally, this diminutive domestic is Hee Sook.”
Hee Sook was short by robot standards, and had the oval face and almond-shaped eyes of an East Asian. Like all the other robots, her head was bald, her skin stark white. She said quietly, “It is pronounced as a single name. I have no last name.”
The Ringmaster cocked an eye at her, acknowledging the statement with a nod, and replaced his tophat. He and Cheesecake stepped out of the ring. The five bots squared off. Like the previous domestic Pat487, Hee Sook got into a proper looking fighting stance.
Spruck said, “If you didn’t know, domestics are unique, being trained in self-defense and all. Can fend off an assault on an owner without breaking the PD.”
Jennifer said, “Yeah, looks like the little one’s a badass.”
Caleb barked a laugh. “The little one’s going to be used for a mop.”
Natalie said, “My money’s on the Smith & Jones character. Two names, twice as bad.”
Just then, Smith & Jones raised a hand. “Pardon the interruption. I am a pacifist.” His head turned right, then left, then right. “No I am not. Yes I am. I am a killer. No, I am not. Yes, I am.”
The Ringmaster, who had just stepped out of the cage, waved off the bell ringer, then waved the confused robot over. Keeping his voice low, he said, “Uh, you seem to be a bit confused, bud. Everything all right?”
Smith & Jones said, “I am ready to combat. No I am not. Yes I am.”
“OK, OK. Come to the door and step out of the cage.” He turned to the crowd. “Sorry folks. We have a rare double here.”
Spruck said, “Heard of that. Nano assault wrote contradictory personalities into the same bot.”
Natalie said, “How in heck did that thing get all the way to Soul with that issue? And how do you know so much about these bots, baby?”
Once Smith & Jones stepped out of the cage, the robot was escorted through a door by two gym security guards.
Spruck said, “They’ll put it down. Standing orders.”
The Ringmaster said, “OK then. On with the show.” He signaled for the bell.
The moment it rang, Hee Sook leapt to the ceiling and clung to the cage, avoiding a side swipe blow from Link. T892 charged Fran and received a rapid-fire boxing of the ears, stunning the big bot and giving Fran the opportunity to kick it hard in the chest, sending it flying against a cage wall.
The crowd let out a Whoop!
Link looked up at Hee Sook, smiled, and jumped up, grabbing her ankle before she could scramble away. He fell slowly back to the floor, made sure his magnetic boots were firmly grabbing, and with a heave, swung her in an arc, sending her face scraping across the walls of the cage, leaving chunks of synth skin dangling from the metal.
The crowd let out an Oh!
The Ringmaster grimaced at the destruction, and then, as Link smashed Hee Sook over and over onto the mat, blew his whistle while frantically signaling for the bell. T892 and Fran paused to watch the slaughter—Fran taking advantage of the distraction to chop T892 in the throat.
The bell rang over and over with Link matching the dings to his smashing of Hee Sook into the mat. For her part, the domestic squeezed her arms around her mangled head and took the beating.
Caleb looked down at his shirt to find Jennifer clinging and yanking on it in awe of the pounding. His natural inclination was to make some sarcastic remark about the little one’s crappy training, but lately he’d been learning to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he took her hand. “Gosh. I hope she doesn’t get broken too.”
Jennifer gave him a double take and let go. “The big one’s not hearing the bell!”
Spruck nodded with a big surprised smile. “Oh, he’s hearing it all right.”
The Ringmaster entered the cage pushing Cheesecake in front of him. “Stop Stop Stop!”
Cheesecake executed a brilliant leg swipe that put Link down on the mat, then placed itself between Link and Hee Sook, who had curled into a fetal ball.
Link stood up so fast that the crowd almost couldn’t see it. Just as he was about to put a fist into Cheesecake’s face, T892 put Link in what would have been a choke hold and then brought a leg around to wrap up the big bot’s legs. The two went down to the mat where, in a series of swift moves, T892 pinned Link down in a way that the other bot gave up the struggle and tapped out.
The Ringmaster turned to the mostly stunned crowd, many of them primed for a hasty exit. “Well! How’d we enjoy that!”
The crowd got back into it and slowly started clapping and cheering, “Fight, fight, fight!”
Hee Sook unfolded herself from her ball. One of her eyes was dangling from the socket by its optic cable. Tattered synth skin was hanging in bits from her head. A good deal of her composite skull and teeth were plainly visible. Her jumpsuit was torn in several places. The foot that Link had held onto to swing her like a club was twisted at an unnatural angle. She stood as best she could and looked hard at Link. She could have sent a quick digital message saying, I won’t forget you. She could have spoken it out loud. Instead, she offered a glare that said it all.
Link, free from T892’s grip, stood and smiled back. He sent a message, With a face like that, I won’t forget you either.
The stern looks were not missed by the audience who kept chanting for more.
The Ringmaster let his voice raise an octave or two, “OK now. All done. We’ll get everyone cleaned up and get on with the next part of the show.”
There were some boos, but the crowd accepted the call.
Natalie spoke out of the side of her mouth to her friends. “Does anyone find it ironic that these robots were given sentience by AI back home and that their sentience includes the worst—I mean the worst of humans?”
Caleb said, “Does anyone find it ironic, butchered logic aside, that Nat is having an existential moment?”
Nat offered her own smoldering glare.
Jennifer said, “Should we include your use of the word existential in the irony cat
egory?”
Caleb frowned. “How is that ironic?”
Spruck said, “Dude, you used existential in a sentence.”
Nat nodded. “Preach, baby.”
Caleb said, “Hardy har.”
Jennifer said, “AI is made of us. Why should its offspring be any different?”
Spruck said, “Just be glad that they can’t network with each other.” He nodded at the robots on stage. “Take it from someone who has had a lot of late night pillow chats with them; just one is smarter than the whole lot of us humans out here. They stay civilized because it’s logical to do so. Plus, we’d destroy them otherwise.”
They watched as the elevator descended with the last five robots below stage.
AUCTION
AN INTERMISSION ALLOWED for bathroom breaks and snack grabbing. The lights dimmed a few times, and the crowd filed back to their seats. Once again, the octagon was centrally lit. As the elevator platform rose, the cage walls and ceiling lifted up and away, clearly exposing the remaining robot contestants to the crowd. The machines were dressed in brand new white jumpsuits—the same that new robots came packaged in. Not a soul had left the building; the curiosity regarding the next steps outweighing any self-preserving instinct.
Ginger was strapped into a wheelchair, her head hanging at an awkward angle. She was booted up but clearly not functioning at normal capacity. Someone had placed a white knit cap on her head, which only accented the obvious dent that remained in her skull. There was no hiding Hee Sook’s mangled face or oddly twisted ankle.
With Cheesecake standing close by, the Ringmaster stepped on stage, top hat on his head at a jaunty angle. “If that wasn’t the spectacle that was promised, I don’t know what is.” He waved an arm across the assembled merchandise and focused his attention onto the section of the stands that contained bidders. “Ladies and gentlemen, per the agreed-upon rules of this unique event, the robots assembled in front of you have put themselves up for auction. The proceeds are to be split between this establishment and a fund created on Hanson for sentient robots unable to find gainful employment. Based on that, I would hope that you find it in your hearts to be generous with your bids. No one likes an aimless bot.” He slowly paced in front of the robots. “It is also agreed that anyone who purchases the rights to work with these sentients will do so in exchange for any and all charging power. No one likes a starving bot either.” He stopped and looked hard at the bidders. “To be clear, this is not a slave auction. These sentients are exchanging services for room and power. They maintain their right to free will. If they decide the arrangement is not equitable, they may exercise their right to sever the contract and move on.”
Pirates of Saturn (The Saturn Series Book 2) Page 5
