David Ring III - Stanley Duncan's Robot

“I’m sorry, Glenda. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s okay, Stanley. Just be careful.” She crept toward the door. “It was nice meeting you, Dan. You two make a nice couple.’

“Thanks, Glenda,” said Stanley, laughing at her peculiar word choice. “Have fun with your trio.”

“Maple!” Teddy called out.

One of the last things Teddy’s mother did before completely abandoning him and absconding to Boston was to purchase Maple, a medically trained android. It had been only a few days after his crippling, and his mother acted like this would make everything right. Any excuse to justify discarding her defective son like a piece of trash.

Paralyzed from the neck down, it was only in the virtual world that he could live out his fantasies. But unlike most people, he didn’t use virtual reality to become a hero, explore the world, or experiment with sexuality. Teddy wanted revenge. He planned to slowly murder the man who had crippled him.

Though Maple looked like a little girl, she was more knowledgeable than any human nurse or doctor. It was she who had taken care of Teddy. Refusing to accept any upgraded models, Teddy had outgrown Maple, watching her remain a child as he grew up to become a man. She took off Teddy’s BR headset.

The fantasy disappeared, and the world returned to normal. Once again, Teddy was paralyzed and trapped in his own mind.

Maple bathed him, dressed him in the stupidest outfit, and cut his hair. “You look so handsome.”

Teddy scowled. “Shut up.” She had been like a mother to him, but something about that sickened him. It reminded him of the whole catastrophe of his life. If he fused out, all his problems would be over, and there would be nothing but bliss. It wouldn’t matter if he could walk or not. But Teddy wanted only one thing in life, and he was not going to leave this world without doing it. When he turned eighteen next year, he would no longer need his mother’s permission to get the surgical body transplant needed to destroy that man.

Several months later

After serving Evan and the other officers their drinks, Shannon slouched over the bar. The emotional pain of the miscarriage still haunted her, and she couldn’t help but feel responsible. If she hadn’t been so emotional around Evan, the baby would have survived. After all, he was doing his best to protect her and the other humans of Marshfield. He was a leader, and leaders had to be tough. Even if his hatred for AI made him lose his cool, the world needed men like him if it was going to survive. The ends justified the means, and she had to do her part by supporting him.

“Things are getting out of hand,” said Evan, gulping down his beer. “We need to let people know that Marshfield does not accept traitors with Cerebral Stitches. If you got an implant, get the hell out of my town.”

The other officers murmured in agreement.

“Feel free to offer encouragement in creative ways to let these traitors know that they are not welcome here.”

“How about a stun gun to the face?” asked Officer Michaels.

“Nothing that will kill them. They’re still human. Barely.” Evan held up his empty glass and eyed Shannon.

In that glance, she felt both fear and love, trapped between survival and responsibility. Without her to calm him down, Evan would fly off the deep end. He’d raze the town in a modern-day witch-hunt, immolating everything that conducted electricity. He meant well, but, somehow, he had become lost along the way. If only she could pull that part out of him again, all would be well.

“What about the abominations?” asked Sergeant Brad Jenkins.

Shannon’s hand jolted upon hearing his booming voice, spilling beer on Evan’s lap. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine, babe.” He grabbed her hand and gently pulled her toward him.

That was him. The real him. The man she had fallen in love with so many years ago. The soul she had dedicated her life to. A chill swept up her hand, and her whole body trembled.

Evan didn’t let go. “I realize that some people, especially the elderly or disabled, are dependent upon these things. As much as I want to have real humans helping each other, I accept that there will be exceptions — just keep that shit inside. I don’t want to see them. Any non-approved toaster seen walking about is subject to an ass-beating. They’ve taken our jobs, and if we don’t keep these abominations in check, where will it end?” He pulled Shannon onto his lap. “Our wives? Our lives? People across Massachusetts will see Marshfield taking a stance against the toasters. We will lead the revolution for human existence.”

The officers cheered, drinking heartily.

“Spread the word. Every android needs to be registered with us. We’ll tag and track them, and make sure they stay in line.”

“And cyborgs?”

“Let’s remind all traitors who dare to sully our city with those half-flesh, half-machine abominations that there will be no tolerance for their kind. And as for those Stitched freaks—” Evan glanced down at Shannon’s flat belly, rage tightening his face like a trap ready to spring “ — get the hell out of town, or so help me God, I will personally rip them apart in the Coliseum.”

Brad pounded his fist on the table. “I’d like to see that.”

“And I expect you will,” said Evan with a terrible smile. “Marshfield’s streets will be free of AI, and that will leave us with plenty of entertainment. I’ll make sure the Coliseum has plenty of money to pay for bounties.”

“What about AI animals?” asked Shannon. She had never wanted one as a pet, but she’d heard they made excellent guards. But to do that, they had to patrol outside.

Evan scowled at her. “What part of ‘no AI’ don’t you understand, Shannon?”

“So, you want your boys to hunt down the fire department, too?” The AI systems that protected and monitored for fires were exceptionally responsive, but they wouldn’t have been complete without the androids who responded with lightning speed and zero fear.

“Clearly, there are exceptions,” said Brad.

“And all I’m asking is for some clarification on those exceptions.”

Brad held his drink up. “Why don’t you stick to what you’re good at and get us all another round?”

She looked at Evan for support, but he avoided eye contact. He would never have let this fly a year ago. Crumpling the napkin in her hand, she glared at Brad and went to the bar. Staring at a half-empty bottle of gin, she wondered why she remained in this crappy town.

For the past few hours, Dan had played a straightforward game of poker, which most players would easily be able to defeat. With Stanley’s intellect, domination was assured. Every winning hand was maximized, and every losing hand was minimized. It would have seemed boring, or ridiculous, to anyone watching. Like a chess grandmaster repeatedly annihilating a beginner at chess, or any of the numerous Stitched nobodies who quickly ascended to their own elite tier above everyone else. Dan had improved over the months, but he had not come close to defeating Stanley.

“As things are now,” said Stanley, “the probability of you winning is close to zero. I know this because I programmed the rules and strategy of poker into you. I knew exactly how you play.”

Dan smiled. “You are very clever.”

“Thank you. Now, if you want to surpass me, you will have to figure out a new way to play. Go beyond your programming. Evolve. Like a snake shedding it’s own skin, the part of you that sees no path forward must give way for new growth to occur.”