Spinward Fringe Broadcast 10.5: Carnie's Tale

by Randolph Lalonde

  I have met so many people who lose their shit when they are playing that game that I can predict what anyone – absolutely anyone – looks like when they’re angry. I have seen little girls turn into absolute monsters, dads and moms become cursing maniacs and boys try to rush the booth after spending thirty plat on three rounds. Well, I say plat, but it’s all about carnival credits, you buy that stuff at the front gate so it doesn’t feel like you’re spending real money. So, when the carnival was all set up, and the planetary security was covering us, that’s what I did, at least during the last two years. When there weren’t customers around, I’d juggle and call out; “Win big dough, play Slingthrow! Make plenty of plat when the ball goes splat!” or, and this was my favourite; “Put my balls in a sling and give ‘em a fling!”

  Anyway, I’m getting off track. Two days, and I had Theo’s legs, arms, his outer power systems and his neck repaired. He was also stripped of all synthetic flesh, which became a problem because the sprayer that I was supposed to use to replace it was broken, and there was no fixing that. He didn’t seem too disappointed. Theo had seen a lot of spare clothes around when he was scavenging, so it only took him a few minutes to find a business suit and shoes that fit. It was a little weird, but kinda cool too. This skinned android in a business suit, I’d never seen anything like it.

  “We have to go to the armoury,” he said, straightening a short brimmed, square topped hat.

  “What?” I asked. Of all the suggestions he’d make, I didn’t think that would be one.

  “If there is as much danger as you say out there, you need a weapon you can shoot. You said that rifle was terrifying.”

  “Well, yeah, but hopefully the people I point it at will piss themselves before they realize I’m afraid to shoot.”

  He cocked his head, as though he knew I was talking outta my ass, and he was right.

  “To the armoury,” I agreed finally. It wasn’t the most impressive place. I mean, there were a lot of rifles there, a lot of pistols, and a few boxes of non-lethal grenades. It wasn’t like what I expected though, mostly rows of the same guns, not much variety, and anything with a power switch wouldn’t turn on. “Wouldn’t weapons like this be hardened against a pulse?”

  “Quality weapons would be, yes,” Theo said. He handed me a flat pouch filled with balls the size of the end of my thumb. I opened the seal and read a card inside that showed how to use them in three easy steps. He went on. “These are cheap, chemical bombs. You squeeze the bomb until you feel a pop under your thumb, then throw it and within five seconds the chemical reaction covers a seven by seven by seven area in resistive material. They survived the electromagnetic pulse because they didn’t have a circuit inside. Most of these guns around us are also cheap, so they were not built to withstand an electromagnetic pulse. It would have only cost them another ten or so credits per weapon, but the complex must have decided to save money.” He held up a gun belt with a shard thrower in it, a nasty weapon that spits out hundreds of tiny slivers of metal. They don’t damage thick hulls, but they can tear a space suit apart no problem, a lot of spacers used them. “This is also a primitive and cheap weapon. The circuitry is protected because it was probably the cheapest way to manufacture the weapon.”

  I strapped the gun on and accepted eight extra clips from Theo. They were all marked with a warning: ‘EXPLOSIVE TIPS, FIRE ON SETTING 1-2 ONLY’

  “How do you know so much about guns? Is there some kind of warrior subroutine in there?”

  “No, not that I’m aware of. One of the businesses I carry information for trades weaponry, so I have access to their data, which includes many confidential documents. I can’t tell you who they are, or what the documents specifically say, but general information is all right.”

  “Who could get at that information? I’m just wondering who you’re holding all of it for now.”

  “The company officers, and any authorized representative who has to handle the data. I suppose all of them are most likely dead, but I don’t have any confirmation, so I’m still operational.”

  “Oh, so if all your masters are gone, you shut down?”

  “Precisely. I have a larger problem, Noah. I cannot leave the complex unless I find another master who will allow me to. That is why I have been carrying my own ownership key. I can’t give it to you though.” He held out a two pronged key with sockets in the ends, I have no idea where he could have been hiding it. “My programming does not allow it.”

  “You want me to have it though?”

  “I can’t give it to you.”

  “But you want me to be your master?”

  “I still can’t give it to you, not even if you ask.”

  “What if I bought you? I have the plat you gathered up.”

  “I can’t facilitate my own sale. I can’t give you the key.”

  Then it struck me: by telling me over and over again that he couldn’t give me the key, he was doing his best to circumvent his programming, trying to tell me to take the ownership key. I started turning away, then whirled and tried to snatch the key out of his fingers. I never had a chance. He might not have been the strongest bot, but he was quick. I tried again, again, and finally he tapped me on the forehead with his palm and pushed off. His light tap wasn’t even enough to leave a bruise behind, but it gave him enough time to start sprinting down the hallway.

  I stood there, watching him run away from the armoury as quickly as he could, sort of in shock but still trying to figure out how I could get that key off of him. Then I realized he already gave me what I needed, and I took one of the restraint bombs from the pouch. I pinched it with my thumb and tossed it after him. It bounced once then a web of blue and green plastic exploded, filling the hallway and catching him in mid-air. Thank the heavens I spent way too much time ‘testing’ carnival games when I was a kid.

  “I cannot give you this key, Noah,” he said as I caught up.

  I pulled at the key, and it took some real effort to get it out of his fingers even though he was suspended in that messy web. I pointed it at him. “Now, where do I plug this in?”

  A small light blinked under his collar, so I spread his shirt open a little and saw a matching socket. He went limp as soon as I pushed it in. The key blinked red and green for several seconds. A new voice, a female voice came from his chest. “As holder of this key, you may assign ownership of this Alfonso Model Nine Unit to any purchaser physically present. The secure data storage will be deleted.”

  “Do I have to delete its, um, you know, like his quirks and memories?”

  “If you mean it’s learned personality, no. We believe this model is capable of great things if it is exposed to a variety of experiences, people and environments, effectively increasing its resale value. The time and effort you invest in this unit can not only build a better personality for your new android, but bring you increased wealth when it is time to sell it and purchase the next model. You can start over if you like, however. Just in case you and your company or family members would like to fully customize the unit.”

  “No! No personality wipe,” Noah said. “What do I do to become his new master and turn him on?” That phrase; ‘new master’ never seemed right, but I knew Theo wouldn’t function without one, so what can you do?

  “Once you firmly hold your thumb to the end of the key, you will be this unit’s official master.”

  I pressed my thumb to the end of the key, looking into Theo’s downturned face. “Man, I hope this works.”

  “Do you take possession of this Alfonso Model Nine Unit?”

  “Yup, I do,” I replied. “Yes.”

  “Thank you for shopping Jarvinik Technologies. Please enjoy your new companion. Not only will it keep your data private and secure, they make excellent nannies, customer service agents, morale officers, data exchange monitors, and can fill a variety of light impact social roles. Would you like to see a presentation?”

  “Can you just turn him back on?” I asked.

  Theo’
s eyes lit up, their familiar blue tint focusing and looking at me. “You’re my new master,” he said, smiling. “How did you catch me?”

  I shook the web a little. “Your suggestion.”

  “Oh, well done. There is a solvent spray in the bag that’ll get rid of the web without damaging us.”

  Part Eighteen

  Theo’s personality stayed pretty much the same, except he didn’t seem to be carrying around all those secrets the company he worked for put in him. If wiping that stuff out would cost some rich people trillions of credits, all I have to say is; oops. I never met a wealthy guy who didn’t look at me like I was something he just scraped off the bottom of his shoe, so screw them. Maybe it’s just me, but he seemed more light hearted somehow. He suggested I hide his key, not so he couldn’t offer-but-not-offer it to someone else, but so no one else could steal it. I used an old trick I’d seen other carnie kids use; I slipped it into the lining of my underwear, just under the band and sealed it in using some all-purpose glue. It took some time, but I managed to get it done while Theo was busy looking for something we could turn into a backpack.

  I don’t know what the hell we were thinking during the weeks we were there, but we delayed our plans to leave the complex. It started when my suit was getting snug, and Theo informed me that I was in the middle of a serious growth spurt. We went looking for clothes, and I found a bunch of company shirts that had burned out logo circuitry on them, so they were just black jerseys. Neither of us could find pants anywhere, and I ended up using these spray on tights that we found in a lady’s desk drawer. I spent half the can spraying layer after layer and loosening them so they didn’t look so ‘fetching’ as Theo put it. I don’t know if he was kidding or actually trying to boost my self-esteem, but powder blue wasn’t my colour, especially when they were shaped so close to my butt that you could see an air bubble every time I farted.

  I guess that searching and looting led to us to putting the perfect ‘go bags’ together. I crammed two months’ worth of food into backpacks we found in a locker room in the third building. It was all snack bars and self-cooking food in thin packages – you know, vending machine stuff – but it would feed me really well. There was a decent enough amount of room left, so I packed a couple small tool kits, a few joint replacements for Theo, my pocket cot, a condenser bottle I found that could suck the water right out of the air so I’d never run out, and a bunch of other stuff. I also found a cool but too large blue jacket in the security office that had armour built in. It was heavy, and my hands were almost completely covered by the sleeves, but it was protection, and I felt better wearing it.

  So, yeah, that’s how two weeks of putting our perfect backpacks together went. A little more than two weeks, actually, but my point is, we had so much fun looting and perfecting our gear selection that we kinda lost track of time. Maybe the world outside seemed too damned dangerous, or with enough food, water, and good company around I didn’t really care if I got out of that complex. I knew my people were dead, there wasn’t anything to find but their remains and a ship. I got my tears out while I thought Theo was off somewhere else, or in the middle of the night when I woke up and thought I was back in my old bunk for a second. There was a lot of that, but time really does heal. Not completely, mind you, but the months in the complex gave me enough time so I was able to think clearly again, but I really overstayed. Rushing out didn’t seem like something I had to do, so I guess I really didn’t care anymore.

  The soldiers cared, the business people who were left cared, and they were gone. All three buildings were empty, and the vehicles in the bay were toast – we took the time to try absolutely all of them – even my fighter was fried. The navigation system used this Z-3 chip that was pretty dainty and not well shielded, so it would have lasted years and years, but the power of that electromagnetic pulse at such a close range turned it black from end to end. There was no replacing it with the parts we had on hand, at least not with my limited skill.

  Theo was great, but he couldn’t help with more than the most basic repairs, it just wasn’t in his programming and I was afraid to slip him anything with a memory chip, so was he. I still can’t believe that I didn’t stop to ask myself; ‘Self; why did everyone leave this amazing, armoured structure as soon as they could?’

  The answer came sometime shortly after the two-week point, when Theo shook me awake. “There are people landing on the island, they are using some kind of hover vehicles. They have guns and a heavy cutter machine. It’s big enough for two of them to sit in.”

  “Do they have robots?” I asked, getting to my feet in a hurry.

  “I didn’t see any.”

  “Get the go bags, we need to be careful,” I told him. We rushed to one of the lower balconies and quietly crawled outside. The hover vehicle was easy to spot. It was some kind of enclosed yacht style thing with enough room for at least twenty people. Three more hovercrafts that looked a lot older were settling on the edge of the black sand beach. They were much smaller, four person models, but they looked fast.

  The forward hold on the largest craft was open and two crewmembers guided a heavy machine on tracks that had construction tools on the front. “Do you think they can cut through the vault door with that?” I asked in a whisper so low I could barely hear myself.

  “It could take them twelve to sixteen days, but there is a real likelihood.”

  “I see colours from two corporations on their ballistic armour, have you ever heard of Omi and Harcron working together?”

  “There are at least six corporations represented, judging from their clothing.”

  “Ah, then these people just salvaged stuff, I bet. They’re not corporate at all. Some of them don’t look like the soldier type.” I watched as a tall blonde woman who was well muscled and wore the upper half of a suit of heavy power armour without the helmet emerged from the lower deck of the largest hovercraft. She immediately started giving the people trying to carefully guide their machinery down the ramp grief. “Okay, she seems like a soldier.”

  I watched the group carefully, and counted eleven people in cobbled together armoured vests. Their weapons seemed at least as primitive as mine, but in much worse shape. My eye was drawn back to the smaller hover vessels repeatedly, and a plan began to form.

  “Hey! How are ya?” asked a raspy, small voice from behind. I spun with my pistol out. He was a short, scrawny guy with greasy black hair and a long nose. His hands went up, and he smiled at Theo, then back at me. “No shooting, my true friend. We paid up too. The droids are all love and no pain around me, like you.”

  I recognized his speech pattern right away, I’d heard street kids speaking his kind of Pigeon before in really poor countries. It’s like they barely understand the language, so they use the phrases they hear from popular old songs, or pick up bits of language and use them in the most literal way. “I got no beef, man,” I replied. “Which sun ya sail from?” I lowered my weapon, but didn’t put it in its holster.

  “Baplin star, crashed here chaotic, held up like a damsel then saved, that crew down there are all fine heroes. You make the mad grab here? Steal the plat, raid the fridge?”

  “Us? We were just about to leave. We’re not carrying much, just what we need to survive.”

  “Your bot’s got cargo, maybe a little extra shine?”

  That took me a moment to understand, too long for him. He rolled his eyes and explained; “You know, shine-shine? More cargo space for your plat?”

  I got it; he was trying to figure out how much we’d already stolen from the complex and thought it was greedy for Theo to have a backpack since he was a bot. “Man, I’ve got a hundred forty plat, food, a couple water condenser bottles and we’re happy to move on.” I carefully slipped away from the balcony, trying not to get to my feet too early; I didn’t want the crew on the beach to see me.

  “Fair, fair. You gotta meet my people, man,” he said. “They gotta see your ‘bot, he’s got shine and class. I bet they’ll crew y
ou up.”

  “I’m not really looking to join a crew, man, just want to move on along,” I replied.

  “C’mon, we’re the good guys,” he replied. “They call me Jorin, I was a troubled man ‘till I was saved. Good days are here, boy.”

  I never liked Media Pigeon. Jorin was mixing lines from popular holo-dramas with song titles, and it made my teeth clench.

  I looked over my shoulder, down at the beach over the ledge of the balcony and spotted it then; a security bot made to look human. Its plastic hair and vacant stare was a dead giveaway. “Hey, you paid up with the company?” I asked, remembering that the soldiers I met when I first arrived were pissed that some people were getting ignored by the bots while everyone else was getting torn to pieces and tossed into recyclers.

  “Paid up?” asked Jorin.

  “Bots don’t attack you,” I patted Theo on the shoulder. “Like my friend here, they leave you alone.”

  “Oh, yeah, got friendly with the strange-strange. Order of Eden, promising me food and a ticket to forever life.” He sang the next part so badly I almost shot him. “You know you got to work-all-a-day to party night after night.” He stopped gyrating and shook his head. “I was the big man, worked like a whipped bitch, then they handed me the gold pass and I flew away as soon as they looked yonder way.”

  I didn’t understand half of that, and I have to admit my patience was fraying. “So you joined the Order of Eden, they made you work until you got away. What’s the gold pass?”