David Ring III - Stanley Duncan's Robot

“Good work,” said Evan, waving him off. “Now, listen up, boys. Every day that we wait, our enemy grows stronger. The next couple of weeks are going to be pivotal for victory. Succeed, and we land a major blow against the enemy. Fail, and we’ll have given the machines more reason to launch a full-out attack on us.”

Michaels stood tall. “Let me kill Daffy Duncan as a way to make up for my mistakes.”

“You’re still not getting it,” said Evan. “This goes beyond destroying one enemy. This is about winning the war against all the abominations. We can’t recklessly destroy them or their treacherous owners in the open, with evidence that points directly to us. We need to set up the pieces so that they all topple down. And what we’ve accomplished in Marshfield, we’ll continue statewide once I become governor. And I’ll need your help to make it all happen.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

Evan glanced over at Brutus, wishing it was as easy as pressing a few buttons and destroying everything in his path. Unfortunately, people were stupid and needed to be forced to do what was right for them. “Let me make the steps crystal clear. I’ve already muzzled that yapping abomination, using my contacts in Boston to shut off his social-media accounts, and I’ve put the squeeze on Morrison and shut down their little library pow-wow. We’ll continue to destroy Duncan’s piss-poor reputation. After all the smear pieces we have published, many loyal townspeople are already attacking him on social media and vandalizing his condo. Lastly, we’ll devise a false-flag operation that will unite Marshfield. The people will be so enraged that they’ll beg me to destroy the abominations, and the whole state will follow suit. As things look now, it’ll go down at their first major public gathering.”

Michaels grinned. “How can we help?”

“Brad, what have we got on Duncan?”

“According to his neighbor, who accepted my invitation to fuse out at one of our farms—” Brad roared with laughter — “Stanley and the abomination are romantically involved.”

“What?” Evan took out his gun and fired three rounds into Brutus. He wanted to rush over to Duncan’s house and burn him alive for betraying the human race and committing all kinds of unspeakable sins. But if Evan acted hastily, he’d be arrested, and the town would lack a suitable leader to protect them from this abomination takeover. Brad was a good soldier, but he lacked the intelligence needed to run things well. Of course, their commands would still be masterminded and sent down from Boston. Things would still get done, but their implementation would be sloppier.

“You heard me right. Stanley is banging the toaster.”

“Or the other way around,” said Michaels. “At least, that’s how I see it.”

Brad shot him a look of warning.

“Disgusting,” said Evan, looking around at his men. He had worked hard to make Marshfield into the town it was, protecting it from the ever-encroaching stranglehold of AI. These men knew what they were fighting for and were willing to lay down their lives for it. “I won’t abide that sort of sacrilege to plague my home. We must protect the town at all costs. Mark my words, we will destroy both of them when the time is right.”

After Evan hit her, Shannon tried to reason with him. She started by softly pointing out that his obsession was not healthy. When things got heated, she got personal. “A real man would have given me another baby instead of treating me like a broken toy.” Evan didn’t take it very well, throwing her across the room and into a lamp.

She left the house bleeding and did not give a damn who saw her. She had told herself that she was going to the fuse-farm to get treatment for the cuts. The nurses could take the shards out of her back — the ones Shannon hadn’t already pried out — and then have her imbibe a recovery serum. But every second of the journey, she knew the truth of what she was doing. She watched it like a movie, this pathetic girl pretending not to be planning to kill herself.

Looking down at the young man in the bed, Shannon knew this was her last moment. She gently disconnected his bag of fuse. After a few gulps, her pain would disappear forever. Thinking back to what Evan had said, she wondered what horrors he had suffered and why he’d refused to tell her. If she knew what was going on in his head, she could make things right again. She took out her phone and dialed his number, giving him one final chance to save their relationship — and her life.

Stanley sat shaking under the table, arms wrapped around his legs, which were pulled up to his chest. He had been beaten half to death and brought back to life with nanites more times than he could remember. Physically, he was fine, albeit extremely tired. He kept passing out every few minutes. Emotionally, however, he was a wreck. Brad had been right. Stanley had given up all hope and begged for mercy, pleading to be killed. He had no choice but to upload the program.

The shrill ringing of the phone filled Stanley’s condo — Dan wasn’t answering.

Sick with worry, Stanley shook his head as he continued to write three signatures per ring on the table leg. Dan had said he would be gone only one hour — three had passed. Stanley didn’t have anyone to call for help. Had Mittens not come in through the broken door and cuddled with him, Stanley would have gone insane.

The front door to the complex slammed shut.

Finishing his umpteenth signature, Stanley froze in place, pen in hand, and listened carefully. He knew the sound of Dan’s footfall by heart, as he did with every other tenant of the building and even the regular visitors, even though he might not know the faces or names that went with them. Glenda’s was the subtlest: the faintest of steps paced apart by long silences. Sometimes, she would talk to Mittens. Brad’s would have been by far the most obvious, had it not been so easily mistaken for a passing semi. Dan’s step had a completely different energy, like a soft Pachelbel canon coursing down the hall.

The footsteps grew louder.

As Stanley listened, he recognized the cadence. It was Dan’s sweet melody. He was alive! However, his symphony was drowned in darkness. Something was wrong.

Dan staggered inside, clearly exhausted. He rushed over to Stanley and scooped him up like a child. “What happened?”

Stanley wrapped his weary arms around him. Heavy tears fell onto Dan’s shoulder. Stanley had lost all strength and would have fallen if not for Dan’s firm hold.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. My phone broke.”

Stanley continued to bawl his eyes out until, finally, they were able to exchange stories.

“People need to know what happened.” Dan picked up a tablet, and his jaw dropped. “They’ve shut down my social-media accounts. My videos are gone.”

“That’s — I’m so sorry, Dan. You worked so hard on those videos.”

“And the children — they’ll think I abandoned them.”

Stanley shook his head.

“This is wrong. People are being intimidated into not working with us, the police treated me like I was a criminal — they tortured you — and someone powerful has crippled my ability to communicate online. How are we supposed to move forward with Machines with Dreams? How are we supposed to even stay alive?”

Stanley wove his hands together. “I’ve been working on a plan. I’m not going to let them interfere with our dreams.”

Dan sank down into the seat, clearly exhausted. “Tell me.”