David Ring III - Stanley Duncan's Robot

“Morons,” he muttered.

“I think you should leave,” said Glenda.

Brad launched himself off down the stairs, setting off a minor earthquake.

Glenda grabbed the rail as tight as she could, Mittens squirmed against her chest before vaulting onto the ground. With incredible speed, Brad injected a syringe of fuse into her carotid artery. Lifting her limp body over his shoulder, he brought her to the cruiser and strapped her into the back seat. She’d make a fine addition to the fuse farm.

When he returned to Stanley’s condo, he didn’t even bother to knock. The door exploded with one shoulder ram.

Stanley trembled by the window with a cane in his hand, his one eye opened wide in fear, making his red face more hideous than normal. “Get out!” His words squeaked like the mice Brad loved to stomp on.

Brad approached. Stanley swung at him, but he was so ridiculously weak that Brad nearly fell to the floor with laughter. Brad grabbed the cane. A jolt of electricity ran through his body. He ripped it out of Stanley’s hand and threw it across the room. “Tingly.”

Stanley backed up, falling over the couch. “Leticia, contact Dan. Tell him I’m being attacked at home.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m unable to reach him. Would you like me to leave a message?”

Brad laughed. “The tin can’s been crushed, and now it’s your turn.” Brad placed several syringes of nanites on the table. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be begging me to let you upload the program for Brutus.”

Dan had rifled through the man’s pockets and found an ID but no phone. He had managed to stay on top of him, but now he was exhausted. This area was dangerous, and his options for leaving were sparse. “So, tell me, Ike: What drives a man to bludgeon an android to death?”

No response.

Dan could tell that Ike was weary from the failed escapes and the comedown from whatever drug he was on. But Dan had hoped he would have given up some sort of information. Instead, he had stonewalled him.

If the police weren’t coming, what could he do? The choices didn’t seem great. He could leave Ike here, hoping he wouldn’t come after him. That would be an awful miscarriage of justice, though. He could walk him to the police station, but there would certainly be a lot of resistance, and Dan was nearly out of energy. He was fit and muscular, but the prolonged battle had greatly fatigued him. He could have saved energy by knocking Ike out, but that felt wrong. This wasn’t a safe area. The longer he waited, the greater his risk. He needed to make a decision.

As he analyzed multiple solutions, a small drone roared above them. He got an idea, but it was going to take the rest of his strength to do it. “This man has committed murder and must be held accountable.”

Dan dragged Ike toward the scene of the crime, his muscles burning from exhaustion. Ike struggled so fiercely he had to stop and rest, restraining him on the ground.

A police car arrived.

Dan noted the curious timing.

Police strobe lights flashed against the reflective aviators of both officers, standing with their arms folded across their chests.

“Officer Michaels — thank God you’re here.” Dan’s voice was strained, his face weary. Not for a second did he loosen his grip on the murderer. “He’s a wild one. Be careful.”

Officer Michaels stepped forward, his hands dropping to his hips, his finger twitching as if longing to put his hand on his gun and pull the trigger. “Don’t tell us what to do.”

Dan’s jaw dropped. “Of course not. I was—”

“Get off of him!” snarled Michaels.

For nearly one hour, Dan had fought to maintain this position. It didn’t feel right getting up. Ike could attack him at any second — all three of them could. He had to be careful. “Would you consider cuffing him first? He’s dangerous.”

Michaels walked closer.

Dan eyed him, hyper-aware of Michaels’ hands. If he reached for his gun, Dan had to be ready. “You remember me — right, Officer Michaels? From the hospital.”

Michaels grabbed Dan by the arm and shirt collar and yanked him up. “Another word and I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice.” His face twisted and transformed into the angry snarl of a territorial dog.

Dan lifted his hands in surrender. “Guess this means my invitation to join the force has been rescinded,” he said to himself in a simulation. The joy of it nearly carried over and made him laugh.

“We’ll settle this later.” Ike looked at Dan with murderous eyes before disappearing into the back seat of the cruiser.

Shocked at how he had been treated, Dan stood on wobbly legs as simulations raced through his head about how things should have gone down. Very few of them ended up like this. He should have been praised for catching a criminal — not treated like one . Despite the fact that Dan had not done anything wrong, the law came down on him. Was this his first encounter with corruption, or was it something more significant, some inherent part of human existence?

Walking back to the area that contained the android remains, he tuned into a different type of scenario being calculated: the outcome of a fight with the officers. In nearly every single one, Dan was able to kill them. But why would he do that? They were the police and were here to uphold the law. It didn’t make sense that he would even consider it, and it really didn’t make sense when he felt—

“Leave police work to the police. To humans,” said Michaels, as the cruiser rolled past him. “This is your last warning.”

Marshfield’s Coliseum was located a few blocks away from where Dan had been ambushed. Like much of the property in this part of town, Evan owned it. Tonight, he had arranged a private showing and training seminar.

Standing in the ring, he screamed at Michaels and his partner. “You morons! How could you screw this up? Because of that damn drone broadcasting the tin can’s garbage all across the world, you’ve put the whole plan in jeopardy. Now we are going to have a PR shitstorm, which is going to make our objective ten times harder to achieve.”

Brad squinted as if he were compressing his few brain cells together to gather a complete thought. “We wanted to show that the tin can is violent. We could say it attacked Ike.”

“Good idea, Brad,” said Evan, patting him on the shoulder. “And we might have been able to do it even with a little video footage. But what really sealed our fate was when Michaels arrested Ike!” He walked toward Michaels and punched him in the stomach.

Michaels doubled over, shaking his head like an idiot. “It wasn’t our fault. How could we have known we were up against Robocop?”

Evan reached for his gun. “Robocop? Say that again, and I’ll put a bullet in you.”

Brad grimaced.

Evan didn’t see the promising officer Brad saw. He saw weakness, and that made the entire force weak. But there were hardly any other viable candidates, and Evan had to take what was available. At least he was loyal. “Maybe I should get in contact with that man you were talking about, Michaels. The one at the hospital. What was his name?”

Michaels turned white. “I never got it.”

“That’s some real fine police work.”

“All I’m saying is that the toaster was tough. He ducked against a home-run swing and then tackled our guy.” Michaels looked to Brad for support.

Evan got in his face. “Don’t make excuses!”

“I’m not.”

“It’s a goddamn cyborg. A soulless sack of flesh and bones. What sort of crackpot did you send in to screw this up?”