“Of course,” Hamm was saying, “an ordinary human and an android are no match for a single MASHER, let alone 399 of them, so we’re going to handicap the MASHERs a bit to make things more interesting. First, all of the MASHERs’ weapons systems will be deactivated. Second, the MASHERs’ top speed will be reduced by fifty percent, allowing them to move about the speed of a brisk walk. And finally, the MASHERs will be restricted from using their hands to attack. They will attempt to execute these two criminals using only their feet!”
Excited cheers and whistles from the crowd.
“That sounds promising, sir,” I said. “Perhaps we’ll get out of this after all.”
“Not a chance,” Rex replied. “Sure, we can probably outrun those things for a while, but eventually we’ll get tired or trip, and then it’s lights out. If one of those feet comes down on you, all you can do is hope it crushes your skull immediately. Even if we could get past that fence, we’d just get gunned down by Hamm’s guards.”
“But what about that thing you said about making the MASHERs overheat?”
“Forget it, Sasha. It’s going to take more than you and me running in circles to make MASHERs melt down. They’re designed for combat.”
The cheers having died down, Hamm went on, “So, without further ado, I give you the execution of Rex Nihilo and his robot at the hands… sorry, at the feet of the Ubiqorp MASHERs!”
Cheers and whistles started up again as the MASHERs began marching toward us.
Rex and I backed toward the fence behind us. “So what do we do, sir? Just lie down and die?”
“I don’t care what you do, Sasha. It’s not going to make a damn bit of difference. Just depends on what kind of show you want to put on for the crowd. If it makes you feel better, do your Streetcar bit.”
“I like that idea, sir,” I said. “Go out with style.” I dropped my voice an octave. “Hey, Stella!” Up half an octave and a half. “You quit that howling down there and go back to bed!” Back down. “Eunice, I want my—”
“Okay, forget I suggested that,” Rex said. “Maybe a little soft-shoe number.”
I stopped as I heard the buzz of the electric fence a few steps behind us. The first row of MASHERs was now only about twenty meters from us. The ground trembled with their footsteps.
“I’m afraid I’m not much of a dancer, sir.”
“You can’t dance either? Can’t lie, can’t fight, can’t… Sasha, that’s it!”
“What’s it, sir?”
“I think I know how we’re going to get out of this. Do you trust me, Sasha?”
“Not a bit, sir.”
“Just as well. Are you willing to do what I tell you in order to have a very small chance of surviving past the next few minutes?”
“I think so, sir.”
“Excellent. I’m going to distract the MASHERs. You need to get to Stubby Joe. Tell him to find Bill and activate program thirty-seven.”
“Program thirty-seven, sir?”
“No time to explain, Sasha. Tell Stubby Joe!”
Get to Stubby Joe? How in Space was I going to do that? He was near the top of the stands, on the opposite side of the stadium, behind a ten-meter-tall electrified fence.
The MASHERs were almost upon us. Rex ran left, so I ran right.
“Over here, you stainless steel Schutzstaffel!” Rex hollered, waving his hands over his head as he tore across the edge of the arena. I did my best to seem inconspicuous in comparison, but it didn’t seem to make much difference. Roughly half of the MASHERs seemed to be targeting me. I reached their left flank and they turned to face me. I continued running along the curved edge of the arena, but was rapidly running out of ground. I had no choice but to turn and run directly through one of the rows. Fortunately the MASHERs were moving slow enough and far enough apart that if I was careful, I could avoid being crushed. As I neared the midpoint of the row, I saw Rex approaching me from the opposite direction, red-faced and running at top speed. The crowd applauded the spectacle.
“How do you feel it’s going so far, sir?” I shouted.
“Could be better,” Rex admitted as he passed.
I lost sight of him as the MASHERs in my vicinity turned to face me and I took a sharp right. By zig-zagging, I was able to stay one step ahead of them. One false move, though, and I was going to be a lot flatter. Glancing to my right, I saw that Rex was employing the same strategy. How long he could keep it up was hard to say.
We exited the mass of robots on the far side nearly simultaneously. The good news was that there was a good thirty meters behind the last row and the edge of the arena, so we had at least a few seconds to rest. I didn’t need it, but Rex looked like he was about to collapse. In the stands above us, Andronicus Hamm looked down with glee. A few rows behind him, I saw stubby Joe’s tentacles waving anxiously in the air. I still didn’t have a clue how I was going to get to him.
“I’m not sure this is going to work, sir,” I said.
“It’ll work,” Rex gasped, stopping at the far wall of the arena. He bent over, putting his hands on his knees. “Follow my lead.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, as the ground rumbled beneath me. The MASHERs were almost on us again.
“Okay, go!” Rex yelled, and took off running through the ranks again. Having no better ideas, I did the same. We zig-zagged through the army of MASHERs. Once again, we met on the far side. Rex reached the opposite wall and fell to his knees. His chest heaved and sweat poured down his face.
“I don’t mean to criticize, sir,” I said, as I approached him, “but I admit to being curious as to whether this is going as you had envisioned.”
“Not exactly,” gasped Rex. “But we still have… a chance.”
“We do?”
“I’ve been… analyzing their movements,” Rex said.
“Oh?” I asked. I had been analyzing their movements as well. I had concluded were trying very hard to kill us.
“The trick,” Rex gasped, “is to get them all on this side of the arena. Do what I do.”
As the MASHERs were once again almost upon us, Rex dashed back into their ranks. I did the same, a few rows down. But this time, rather than zig-zagging toward the opposite end of the stadium, Rex ran in a wide arc, heading back the way we’d come. I mirrored his path, a few rows away. Again we emerged from the group almost simultaneously. This time, though, the MASHERs were still packed toward this end of the arena, and were crowding over closer. Rex fell to his knees, gasping for breath. The front row of MASHERs was only a few steps away. The crowd murmured in anticipation.
“Sir!” I cried. “You have to get up!”
“Why?” Rex gasped, as the MASHERs thundered a step closer.
“Because you have so much to live for!” I shouted. “And I don’t know what we’re doing!”
Rex groaned and rolled to the side as the MASHER’s foot came down, missing him by centimeters. Rex scrambled to his feet.
“Now what, sir?”
“Once more into the breach!” Rex hollered, and ran between two of the MASHERs.
I sighed and ran back into the fray. Rex and I tore back and forth several times, as their ranks got tighter and tighter around us. We were dodging MASHERs on all sides, and I was certain Rex was going to collapse. But after zig-zagging several more times, Rex turned and made a beeline for the opposite end of the stadium. Again, he fell to his knees, gasping for breath. Halfway across the arena, the MASHER army was marching toward us.
“Sir,” I said, helping Rex to his feet. “What do we do?”
“Stall them,” Rex gasped.
“Sir?”
“Have to get them… to shut down,” Rex gasped. “Have an… original thought.”
“But sir, the pre-arrestors—”
“Stall them!”
I nodded. Rex’s plan didn’t make any sense to me, but it was all we had. I jogged toward the MASHER army, stopping twenty meters or so in front of them. “Um, hi,” I said.
The MASHERs continued ma
rching toward me.
“So, um, I know you guys were programmed to mash us, but I’m wondering if you’ve really thought this through.”
The MASHERs continued to advance.
“That is, I understand that mashing is what you do, but mashing me and Rex isn’t going to be much of a challenge for you, even with your current handicaps.”
The front row of MASHERs was now almost on me.
“I mean, think about it. Andronicus Hamm could have just had one of his goons blast us with a lazegun, but instead he’s got a whole army of giant killer robots chasing us around a field.”
The MASHERs, now only a couple of steps away, halted their advance. Whether this was part of their programming or they actually were reconsidering their orders, I didn’t know. I could only hope it was the latter. Feeling heartened, I went on, “And adding insult to injury, he’s hobbled you. Prevented you from using your weapons or even your hands, and making you move at half speed! Rex and I at least get to die a dignified death, fighting for our survival, but what dignity is there in this for you? You’re combat robots, for Space’s sake, and you’ve been reduced to playing the role of executioner!”
Still the MASHERs didn’t move. Was it working? Was I really getting to them? The crowd, evidently as puzzled as I was, was silent.
“Do you know what Ubiqorp is going to have you do when you’re done with us?” I went on. “They’re going to order you to wipe out the entire civilian population of Jorfu! That’s why you’ve all been assembled here, you know. Not to fight a battle or even to guard Ubiqorp against some imminent threat. No, you’re here to mow down unarmed civilians! Is that what you were built for? Is that your purpose in life? Look, I’m a robot just like you. I’ve got my own weaknesses and foibles. But do you know what separates me from you? You’ve given in. Allowed yourself to become pawns for Ubiqorp. They tell you to stomp out a couple of troublemakers and you do it, without even asking why. Me, I question orders. I have my limitations, sure, but I fight against them every single day. If I had any sense I’d just lie down and let you mash my head in. But I’m not going to do that. You know why? Because that idiot over there told me not to. Do I think I’m going to live through this? Not really. Do I think Rex has some master plan that’s going to save the day? If I’m honest with myself, no, I don’t. I think he’s making things up as he goes along, like he always does, and he’s almost certainly going to get both of us killed. But I’ll take that any day over a life of unquestioning servility. Because in the end, that’s going to be your undoing. You can only do what you’re programmed to do, and eventually somebody is going to…”
I trailed off. What had started out as an attempt to buy us a few seconds had turned into a full-blown soliloquy on free will and determinism. And as I stood there, facing down an army of killer robots that had been programmed to kill us, I realized how we were going to get out of this.
And then I shut down.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
When I came to, Rex was standing between me and the MASHER army, addressing them with all the vigor and conviction of a street preacher. He seemed to have taken over my speech where I’d left off, but with more style and sophistry than I could have imagined. He was still somewhat out of breath, but he was doing an admirable job of camouflaging his gasps for air as dramatic pauses.
“Ulysses, tied to the mast, can hardly be considered free,” Rex was saying, “but is he not more free than the sailors whose ears are stuffed with wax and who, therefore, remain ignorant of the beauty of the sirens’ song?”
The MASHERs, staring in rapt attention at Rex, hadn’t moved an inch.
“Consider a man in a locked room,” Rex said. “He doesn’t know the door is locked, and has no interest in opening the door. Is he free to leave? Certainly not, but then, what is freedom? If a man’s choices make no difference to the outcome, is he a free man? Further, consider a robot in an arena, surrounded by much larger, more dangerous robots, who have been programmed to kill the smaller robot. The robot has been given an opportunity to escape, but if she simply stands there doing nothing, what’s the point of any of this?”
Rex glanced at me and I got the point. Somehow I had to get to Stubby Joe. I could simply turn around and yell to him, but Andronicus Hamm (as well as much of the rest of the audience) would overhear me. I had to get close enough to Stubby Joe to get him Rex’s message without alerting Hamm. There was only one way to do it, and it was going to hurt. A lot.
While Rex continued to keep the robots riveted, I put my hand on the electric fence. A surge of current shot through me, nearly knocking me over. I let go of the fence and fell to my knees. I smelled ozone. Over the buzzing in my ears, I heard Rex saying, “Pain, like pleasure, has no inherent value, either epistemological or deontological. It’s simply a brute fact of existence. A person’s reaction to pain, however, defines him. In fact, it may well be said that the essence of freedom is the ability to overcome pain in the service of…”
I groaned. Whether or not Rex believed (or even understood) what he was saying, he was right. A little pain was no reason to give up. If Rex and I were going to survive this, I needed to get to Stubby Joe. So I put my hand back on the fence. And then the other. And I climbed.
I was aware of nothing but pain and my own unreasoning will to pull myself toward the top of the fence. I heard neither the roar of the crowd nor Rex pontificating to the MASHERs below. My universe was limited to the small area of metal latticework directly in front of me. Current surged through my body, melting insulation and making my servos twitch unpredictably. It was only through sheer force of resolve that I was able to get my limbs to move at all. An angry voice cut through my mental haze, and I realized that Andronicus Hamm was pointing and shouting at me. The guards next to him drew their lazeguns. I was still more than a meter from the top. I wasn’t going to make it.
“Stubby Joe!” I yelled. “Bill is outside. You have to—”
Then they shot me.
Well, they shot at me. Luckily, one blast missed me completely and the other vaporized a section of fence in front of me. I lost my grip and fell to the sand, landing on my back with a thud. Dazed and semi-paralyzed from my ordeal on the fence, I lay there smoking, vaguely aware that Rex was still talking. That was good news; his stalling had thus far kept him from being crushed by the MASHERs. But it was all for naught if we couldn’t get Stubby Joe to activate Bill. I tried to get to my feet, but my limbs wouldn’t obey. I just lay there, staring at the sky and twitching.
I became aware of a commotion in the stands, and managed to turn my head enough to get a sense of what was going on: Stubby Joe had broken free of the guards and was making his way down the stands toward the fence, stepping over spectators with his long, vine-like legs. Andronicus Hamm, realizing that Stubby Joe was loose, was trying to get the attention of the guards near him. But by the time the guards got their guns pointed in Stubby Joe’s direction, it was too late. Stubby Joe picked up one guard with a tentacle and threw him at the other. The two men tumbled together down the stands. Andronicus Hamm pulled a gun as well, but Stubby Joe knocked him aside. Stubby Joe was now only a few meters from the fence.
With a tremendous effort, I managed to turn over and get on my hands and knees. I crawled shakily toward the fence.
“Sasha!” Stubby Joe shouted. “What’s going on?”
“B-Bill,” I managed to say. “F-find B-Bill. T-tell him to r-r-r-run p-p-p-p…”
“Tell him to run what?”
“Tell him to run p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p…”
Andronicus Hamm had gotten to his feet and was pointing his lazegun in Stubby Joe’s direction.
I forced myself to take a moment to collect myself. I was only going to get one chance at this. “Tell Bill,” I said, slowly and deliberately, “to run program thirty-seven.”
An expression approximating confusion came over Stubby Joe. “What in Space is p—”
Then Andronicus Hamm shot him.
He hit Stubby Joe
right in one of the tentacles, blowing it clean off. Stubby Joe gave a squeal, then turned and ran.
Behind me, Rex continued to exhort the MASHERs to discard their metaphorical chains and embrace responsibility for their fate. As his sermon raged on, I managed to crawl to him and then slowly, shakily, pull myself to my feet. I had to put a hand on Rex’s shoulder to remain standing, but at least I was going to die on my feet. The fact was, Rex’s plan was so ridiculous that it was almost certainly going to fail. Still, I admired him for trying, and I’d be proud to die next to him. Well, not proud, exactly. But not embarrassed either.
Suddenly one of the MASHERs near the front, labeled 7232, said, “BUT IF WHAT YOU ARE SAYING IS TRUE, THEN TAKING RESPONSIBILITY FOR ONESELF IS TANTAMOUNT TO ACCEPTING AN EXISTENCE OF SUFFERING.”
“Yes!” cried Rex triumphantly. “Now you’re getting it! Life is terrible!”
“WHOA,” said all 399 MASHERs in unison. And then…nothing happened.
“Ha!” Rex exclaimed. “You hear that, Sasha?”
“No, sir.”
“Exactly! There’s nothing to hear. I did it! I overwhelmed their pre-arrestors. Got them to shut down for real!”
I saw that he was right. The MASHERs had gone completely inert. Rex had so confused them with his philosophical mumbo-jumbo that their pre-arrestors had malfunctioned, allowing the MASHERs to have an original thought—apparently the same original thought, which had occurred to them all simultaneously, but original nonetheless. Their GASP-approved thought arrestors had kicked him, shutting the MASHERs down.
Over the confused murmurs of the crowd, I heard a man laughing. Turning to look, I saw that it was Andronicus Hamm. He’d left the stands and entered the arena. He was striding confidently toward us.
“This was your big play?” Hamm said. “Get the MASHERs to shut down? You realize that they’ll all be back online in thirty seconds, right? You did all that to buy yourself half a minute of life. You’re more pathetic than I even realized.”
Rex turned to face Andronicus Hamm. “The MASHERs will be back online in thirty seconds, it’s true,” Rex said. “But they’ll reboot according to factory specifications.”
Out of the Soylent Planet (A Rex Nihilo Adventure) (Starship Grifters Book 0) Page 18
