Evil Machines

by Terry Jones

  ‘Yes!’ said the robot. ‘And I can see you!’

  ‘What!’ exclaimed Orville.

  ‘What!’ exclaimed Jack, and he swerved so violently that his father nearly fell off the water-powered motorbike.

  ‘You don’t think I’d be so stupid as to leave that finder as a one-way device, do you?’ said the robot. ‘I fixed it so that I can see anyone who uses it to spy on me.’

  ‘Turn it off!’ screamed Jack.

  ‘Damn!’ shouted Orville, hurriedly turning off the machine.

  But the image of the robot Inventor just laughed; it was still there on Jack’s back even though the finder was now turned off.

  ‘Oh! Come, come!’ said the robot. ‘If someone were spying on me I couldn’t let them turn the thing off – could I?’

  Orville gaped.

  ‘Turn it off!’ screamed Jack again.

  ‘I have!’ moaned his father.

  ‘But I’m still here aren’t I?’ said the robot. ‘As a matter of fact, I’ve thought about everything you can possibly do . . . so whatever you do do, I’ll always be several steps ahead of you.’

  ‘We’re going to stop you . . . You and your evil plans!’ shouted Orville at the image of the robot Inventor. ‘You can’t stop us!’

  ‘Oh yes, I can,’ said the robot.

  And that was when a truly remarkable thing happened. The image of the robot seemed to intensify: it sort of grew slightly and then it climbed out of the screen on Jack’s back, and before you could have opened the pantry door to get out a slice of cold pork, it had climbed over Jack’s shoulders and grabbed the handlebars of the water-powered motorbike!

  ‘Get off!’ screamed Jack, trying to throw the robot off the bike. But the robot was as strong as steel, because, of course, that’s what it was made of! And now it locked its robotic hands on to the handlebars so that nothing could remove them.

  ‘You wanted to see the rectifiers?’ shouted the robot Inventor. ‘Well, as a special treat, I’ll take you there myself!’

  And it revved up the bike.

  ‘Oh! I like this!’ said the water-powered motorbike, and off they sped.

  ***

  The rectifier was much bigger than it had appeared in the image on the screen. In fact it was vast. It had shining walls 200 feet high that might have been made of stainless steel or maybe platinum, and on the roof were coils and antennae that soared up into the sky.

  ‘This is the control centre for my whole operation!’ said the robot Inventor, as they roared towards it. ‘I built it here so I wouldn’t be disturbed.’

  ‘Look out!’ screamed Jack. ‘You’ll kill us!’ And indeed they were now heading straight towards the shining wall of the rectifier.

  ‘All in good time!’ shouted the robot, and the shining wall opened up and the water-powered motorbike shot inside. It then sped across a blindingly white hallway, through another pair of doors that opened (only just in the nick of time) across a control room suffused with a dim blue light, headed straight for an apparently solid wall on the far side, and duly smashed into it.

  Orville and Jack were thrown off the motorcycle, and the motorbike itself buckled into a tangle of metal. Its tank burst and water spewed all over the place, shorting wires and sending sparks flying.

  ‘Oh! I didn’t like that!’ said the water-powered motorbike, before juddering to a complete and perpetual silence.

  The robot detached its hands from the twisted handlebars and strolled over to the humans where they lay bruised and groaning.

  ‘That’s the trouble with you human beings,’ it said without smiling. ‘You’re like eggs! You feel every little jolt and scrape.’

  ‘Oh!’ moaned Orville. ‘I think I’ve broken every bone in my body!’

  ‘Pathetic!’ said the robot. ‘How could human beings have dominated the world for so long, when they have this terrible disability of feeling pain!’

  ‘Perhaps it’s our strength!’ said Orville, sitting up.

  ‘I, on the contrary,’ the robot went on, ‘have been constructed to withstand the most tremendous forces. That’s another reason you can never defeat me. I am indestructible!’

  Orville looked around the room in which they had crash-landed. There were hundreds of computer screens arranged in several rows, stretching from one end of the room to the other. Each screen seemed to be floating above a blue-lit desk at each one of which sat a curious android – or rather they didn’t sit, for the lower part of each android was a swivel chair. Occasionally one of them would turn around and motor up to another monitor, check something and then motor silently back on its three wheels to its own screen. The atmosphere in the room was of concentration and of quiet but intense activity.

  ‘So? You got out of the detention membrane!’ The robot was now standing over the two humans. ‘How? I wonder. It’s meant to be impervious to penknives or anything sharp.’

  ‘So you didn’t think of everything that time?’ said Jack, who had finally regained his senses.

  ‘You must have had outside help,’ said the robot. ‘The only thing those membranes are susceptible to is pressure from without . . . That’s it! The crusher! It must have been the crusher that helped you out . . . That breaking yard is full of defective machines . . . but I hadn’t figured on the crusher being one.’

  ‘So you see! If you can’t trust your own machines, we still have a chance against you!’ exclaimed Orville.

  ‘I’m afraid not!’

  ‘We’ve escaped from you twice . . . no, three times!’ said Jack. ‘Maybe your machines are helping us because they didn’t like what you are doing! We can escape again!’

  ‘I don’t think so . . . not this time,’ said the robot Inventor. And suddenly out of the floor rose four big blocks

  of metal – one on either side of Orville and one on either side of Jack.

  ‘What the . . .’ began Jack.

  But two of the metal blocks on either side of him had already started to move towards each other – as if they were huge magnets being pulled together – trapping the men between them.

  ‘Help!’ cried Jack, as the blocks remorselessly closed in.

  ‘Stop!’ yelled Orville. ‘Kill me, but let my son go!’ And he lunged towards the robot Inventor. But the other two blocks jumped alongside him, and before Orville knew what was happening he too was being squashed in between them.

  He screamed.

  ‘Relax!’ said the robot. ‘This bit shouldn’t hurt! Although you humans are so poorly constructed that I am constantly surprised at how low your tolerance levels are.’

  ‘Please! No!’ called out Jack. ‘Don’t crush us!’

  ‘I don’t intend to!’ said the robot. ‘You remember I told you I was experimenting with metal to make it capable of reproduction? Well, these blocks are my prototype material. I created it myself . . . you notice how soft the metal is?’

  And sure enough as the blocks compressed around them, Jack and Orville found that the metal they were made of yielded to the human form . . . so that the two blocks fitted exactly around their bodies – like a mould. The two halves then clamped together, and Jack and Orville found themselves totally encased with just their heads showing.

  ‘It’s a snug fit isn’t it?’ smiled the robot. ‘But it also has other properties!’

  And with that the robot flicked a switch on the wall

  and a beam of red light shone down – engulfing the two blocks of metal. There was a sort of creaking sound – like ice setting around the hull of a wooden ship. Up to that moment Orville and Jack had been able to move their limbs a little, and the soft metal had eased with them as they moved, but now it suddenly solidified, and no matter how hard they tried they couldn’t move a single digit. Only their heads were free – sticking out of the top of the blocks – and they turned them this way and that – looking around them in desperation.

  ‘There!’ said the robot, switching off the red light. ‘I don’t think you’ll be escaping from those!’
>
  ‘No! I think you’ll be letting them out!’ Another voice rang out across the control room. The robot looked startled.

  ‘Who’s that?’ he called.

  ‘Out of sight – out of mind, eh? Well, I’m back!’ And into the pool of blue light by the doorway stepped Maurice . . . accompanied by Annie and Little Orville.

  ‘Annie!’ cried Jack. ‘Thank goodness you found him!’

  ‘And thank goodness I knew where I’d find that thing!’ said Maurice, pointing at the robot.

  ‘Don’t call me that!’ shouted the robot.

  ‘It thought it was safe up here on the hills, but it forgot that I had programmed my own preferences into it! This is my spot, and you’re going to stop whatever it is you’re planning at once!’ said Maurice turning on the robot.

  ‘Oh yes? How are you going to stop me?’ sneered the robot. ‘You don’t have any weapons! You don’t have anything! And what’s more I control you!’ The robot was screaming this, as it produced its remote control and pointed it at the

  Inventor, hitting the buttons as it did so.

  But Maurice stayed where he was.

  ‘Damn!’ snapped the robot. ‘A malfunction!’

  ‘Dear! Dear!’ said Maurice. ‘I deactivated that remote you implanted in my neck before I did anything else. Do you think I’m stupid or something!’

  ‘You are compared to me!’ exclaimed the robot, and suddenly the flying gizmos appeared at its shoulder.

  ‘I think not,’ replied Maurice, producing his own remote control and pointing it at the androids operating the computer screens. With one movement the androids swivelled round on their bases and started to converge on the robot Inventor.

  ‘Get back!’ it screamed, hitting its own remote control. ‘Why aren’t they obeying me?’

  ‘My remote has an override that cancels yours out. I’m surprised you didn’t know about that! But then I’ve begun to remember there were one or two things I kept secret from you, in case something went wrong. Lucky I did! But then, it wasn’t luck really – it’s just that I am incredibly clever! More so than any mere machine!’

  ‘No! I’m more than a machine!’ cried the robot. ‘I’m like you! Remember? I’m a god!’ And it tried to make its flying gizmos attack the androids, but the gizmos simply stayed where they were, hovering at its shoulder, while the androids pinioned the robot’s arms to its side. Then another motored up and hammered steel pegs through the robot’s feet so that it was fixed to the floor.

  ‘I’m afraid I made a big mistake when I created you,’ said Maurice. ‘I was guilty of hubris – and if you don’t know

  what that is, you can jolly well look it up in the dictionary. Now I want you to tell us what exactly was your plan for the destruction of the human race.’

  ‘Let me go!’ screamed the robot. ‘I can’t move!’

  ‘I hate to do this to one of my own machines,’ said Maurice, ‘but I have no alternative.’

  ‘No! No!’ screamed the robot. There was a heavy thumping noise outside the main doors of the control room, which were flung open as a great machine clanked and lumbered its way across the floor towards Maurice’s mechanical alter ego.

  ‘This is another little secret that I’m afraid I kept from you,’ said Maurice. ‘It’s my mobile crusher.’

  And with that he guided the mobile crusher so that it was positioned with its crushing plate immediately above the robot’s head.

  ‘I will give you one last chance to reveal your plan,’ said the Inventor.

  ‘No!’ screamed the robot. ‘I’ll never tell you unless you let me go!’

  ‘No matter,’ Maurice replied, ‘I will soon work out what you were up to and put a stop to it.’ And he pressed the remote to activate the crusher.

  ‘The plan is already in operation!’ screamed the robot. ‘If you crush me you’ll never be able stop it!’

  ‘Whatever you have set in motion,’ said Maurice, ‘I’ll stop it soon enough!’

  ‘But!’ screamed the robot. ‘Please! For pity’s sake don’t crush me!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Maurice gravely, ‘but you are too

  dangerous to be allowed to exist. Goodbye. I made you too clever by half!’

  And the crusher started to exert its pressure on the robot . . . But that is when things started to go seriously wrong.

  It may be that Little Orville failed to distinguish between the two Inventors – Maurice himself and his robotic counterpart – for at that precise moment the toddler seemed to realize the panic in its voice, and he wrenched himself out of his mother’s arms, jumped down and ran across the control room to the robot. The next moment he had thrown himself into its mechanical arms and was hanging around its neck.

  ‘Orville! Come back!’ cried his mother.

  ‘Orville! That’s just a robot!’ yelled Jack.

  But Little Orville clung around the machine’s neck, while the crusher continued to bear down on its head.

  ‘Maurice! Where’s your driveller?’ screamed Annie.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s back in the cell!’ said Maurice, punching a button on his remote control. The crusher came to a halt.

  And so the robot turned the tables! It grabbed Little Orville round the neck and held the little boy out in front of it.

  ‘Thought you were so clever did you?’ it said. ‘Well, you didn’t think of this!’

  ‘Orville!’ shouted Maurice.

  ‘Orville!’ shouted Annie.

  ‘Orville!’ shouted Jack and his father from their metal blocks.

  ‘GGGGGGRHHHH!’ cried Little Orville who didn’t

  like his neck being gripped by those robotic hands.

  ‘Now get this crushing machine away before I throttle this brat!’ said the robot.

  The Inventor looked around at the others and shrugged. There was nothing else for it. He turned the mobile crusher around and marched it off to the other side of the room.

  ‘Now, free my feet,’ said the robot Inventor, holding the now screaming child in front of it like a chicken whose neck it was about to wring.

  The androids were sent in to free the robot’s feet.

  ‘Very good!’ said the Evil Machine. ‘Now give me that remote!’

  The Inventor heaved a sigh, but there was nothing else for it – he threw his remote over to his robot opposite.

  ‘Good!’ said the robot, holding Little Orville’s neck in one mechanical hand, while it caught the remote in the other. ‘Let’s get rid of that.’ And it crushed the controller as if it were crumpling up a piece of paper. Goodness knows what it could have done to Little Orville’s neck! The next minute the robot was operating its own remote again, and more metal blocks shot up out of the floor and before they knew what was happening, both Annie and Maurice were trapped in cubes of metal just like Jack and Orville – with just their heads sticking out. The red lights beamed down and the metal creaked and hardened. They were entombed.

  ‘I don’t think you are going to stop anything!’ sneered the robot, dropping Little Orville on the floor. ‘Look at you!’ and he marched up to Maurice, whose head was sticking up out of the block. ‘You!’ shouted the robot into Maurice’s face. ‘You thought you were so clever! Well, you

  weren’t as clever as you should have been! And the rest of you! What pathetic creatures you all are . . . You and the rest of the human race! None of you are a match for my machines! You’ll see!’

  ‘What is your plan?’ asked the Inventor.

  ‘My plan? Why should I tell you?’ said the robot. ‘But then why shouldn’t I? There’s absolutely nothing you can do now to stop me. Oh! And in case you’re thinking the little brat is going to help you . . .’ And the robot operated its remote, and in moments even Little Orville was encased in a solid metal block, from which only his head emerged. He was too frightened and too amazed to even scream.

  ‘What is the plan?’ said the robot. ‘I’ll show you!’

  He pressed a button and a large screen came
down. It was the same map of the world that Jack and Orville had seen in the control room of the Iron Cloud.

  ‘How am I going to kill off all human beings – all over the world – at exactly the same time? How am I going to leave the world free for machines? It’s so simple! What do humans need to do that machines don’t? Eh? They need “the breath of life”! So I’m going to “turn off” the air for a few hours!’

  ‘You’re talking nonsense!’ yelled Orville Barton.

  ‘No! He’s not!’ cried Maurice, his head twisting this way and that in his metal block, as he looked around the control room. ‘I’ve suddenly realized what this place is!’

  ‘Yes!’ sneered the robot. ‘It’s your rectifier isn’t it? Except I moved it out here, enlarged it a hundred times and built hundreds of them all over the world!’

  ‘But that’s dangerous!’ exclaimed the Inventor.

  ‘Exactly!’ said the robot.

  ‘What do the rectifiers do?’ asked Annie.

  ‘They reverse the magnetic field of anything in their vicinity!’ exclaimed Maurice. ‘I built one as an experiment. But to build more . . . well . . .’

  ‘I’ve built so many,’ screamed the robot, ‘and so distributed them in every continent and floating on every ocean, that I will be able – by the flick of a switch – to cancel out the entire Earth’s magnetic field!’

  ‘But why would you do that?’ exclaimed Orville. ‘Everything – including you will fly off the planet and perish in the infinite wastes of space!’

  ‘Child’s play!’ shouted the robot. ‘I shan’t cancel the Earth’s gravity completely . . . I’ll just turn it down a little – just enough to allow the lightest things to rise up a few thousand feet!’

  ‘What does it mean?’ yelled Jack.

  ‘It’s diabolical!’ yelled the Inventor. ‘Oh my dears! I’m so sorry I created this monster!’

  ‘But what is it going to do?’ cried Annie.

  ‘Haven’t you got it yet, you simpletons?’ sneered the robot. ‘The Earth’s atmosphere will rise up . . .’

  ‘No!’ screamed the Inventor.

  ‘I’ll keep it up at 40,000 feet or so for a couple of hours, just to make sure every breathing creature is asphyxiated, and then I’ll lower it again . . . Because of course some machines need oxygen to function.’ The robot was now punching codes into the control panel in front of it.