Lunch time came quickly. It was as if she had been sleeping and it leaped up at her. Cynthia's work bogged her down so much she nearly worked through it forgetting the Boss wanted to see her until it was ten minutes after noon. Sally, working diligently beside her, realized what time it was when she began writing a report and needed the exact time. She cautiously tapped Cynthia's shoulder but received no response. A more direct approach was needed, so she leaned over and nervously told her friend the bad news. Cynthia jumped to her feet making the chair clunk to the floor and startle Sally. She sprinted for the door disappearing behind it. No muffled comments followed her from the workers as they had all returned to their allotted work.
Cynthia ran across the factory floor. The bots above could not react fast enough to stop her. She sped back down the halls. The two security bots started after her, believing she was trying to escape from work. Their objective was to capture her and bring her back to her station. She sprinted to stay ahead of them. She had no time for them to drag her back to her area; she was late as it was. Cynthia slowed as she neared the receptionist's desk, as she did she called out to the receptionist.
"I'm here 10NUD."
The bot responded quickly. The door next to her opened and Cynthia vaulted in. The revbots reached out to grab her; their arms came up empty. Quickly their sensors assessed the situation. They logically decided that what ever punishment the escapee deserved would come to her promptly.
Inside the room, Cynthia Aldin lay face down on the lush carpet. She quickly rose to her feet and allowed her light green eyes to adjust to the dim light. The air was crisp and clean, the smell of ammonia more pungent in here than out in the foyer. To augment the sanitized atmosphere it was just a bit nippy, downright freezing compared to the weather outside the building.
In front of her, beyond the four meters of vacant carpet, was a large desk, also nearly barren, that formed a half circle around a single chair. Behind which were many monitors normally showing bits and pieces of the entire building. They were blank now. At precise intervals there were plants lining the walls. One would think at first glance they were fake for they were too green and healthy. She knew from personal experience after having one thrown at her, they were not.
The room was intended for the comfort of the person that worked there. Further it was designed for the discomfort of anyone else who happened to have the unfortunate opportunity to meet there. This was proven when her eyes had just started to adjust, a light brighter than the sun blinded her. As a rule, one should never show weakness in front of the Boss, so she knew better than to try to block out the light or cower away from it. She stood (because there was only the one chair in the room that was occupied) ready for whatever would come next.
Slowly the light faded and she could see again. Behind the desk sat a robust man. His gray hairline was slicked back and had receded part of the way back on his head. His beard and mustache grew black and thick upon his face. Under broad eyebrows peered dark, menacing eyes, the type of eyes that could bore into you and rip your heart away at a glance.
His clothing differed greatly from hers and her peers. He wore dark brown pants and jacket with a white shirt and a solid black tie, an outfit only for the rich. He spoke loudly in a harsh and clear voice. "You're late."
"I'm sorry I was working diligently and lost track-" She tried to explain her case.
He didn't want to hear it. "No excuses." She didn't say another word and watched as he stood and rounded his desk breaking the barrier between them. His height now evident, as tall as Cynthia was, he was several centimeters taller.
The man before her was one of the richest and most prominent men in the world. People respected him as a brilliant man and someone to be reckoned with; by the people in the upper classes. Those in the worker class, however, despised him. Even so, they had to respect his power. He could, if he wished it and it brought him profit, raise a worker up into the middle class, or send a rich man to beg on the streets of a breeding colony.
He owned that power and used it when he pleased even as he stood just in front of his desk and leaned on it, knowing he was the one who was in control here. His right hand rested next to a device, one of his designs he built in his youth and one with which she was very familiar. She relaxed slightly as she noticed he had not yet picked it up. He considered her with his dark eyes sparkling as the light reflected off them. He seemed to be enjoying this confrontation!
"I had called you here to congratulate you on another profitable project." His voice was teasing and he was obviously lying. "Of course now that you have shown how untrustworthy you are by your tardiness, I fear my laurels were misplaced."
There it was now she had no hope of leaving this room unharmed. She stood silently waiting not so patiently for what was to come. She could not look in his eyes; that was a sign of disrespect and hostility. She tried looking behind him anywhere except at his right hand. Anytime now it would come slashing around and she had no desire to helplessly watch it strike her.
"Your work is unacceptable." The verbal abuse came first. He wanted to lower her status to nothing, while he stood totally relaxed always above her. "You use petty excuses for errors that can be corrected by dogs. I wouldn't even use your sensory magnification unit for the most demolished bot I can find." His voice carried and rang throughout the room. If the walls were not soundproof, Sally surely could have heard his taunting. "This thing you call thruster control couldn't generate enough power to light a match. Furthermore, your assistant could never write a report to describe how to turn on a computer."
"Leave her out of it." Somehow she was able to get up the nerve to talk back to him. Job and welfare be damned! She wasn't going to stand there and let him insult her best friend. "She can not even defend herself. If you must demolish anyone's character, then limit your criticism to me!"
His moves were quick as a flash, she didn't even know what happened between her last words and when she hit the ground. She rose to her hands and knees slowly and felt a warm liquid run down her face. There was very little pain. She looked below her and saw the tan carpet spotted with the red stain of fresh blood. She looked over to Estevez allowing her hatred to show in her eyes. She knew even that would bring on another lashing but she didn't care.
He still leaned on the desk, his composure never wavered, but now the small cylinder was in his hand. Estevez stepped forward. She looked him directly in the eyes. "Your tolerance has increased. You used to lie there for several minutes. Go ahead. You wish to fight. Stand up to me." He laid out the challenge as if it were a game.
Cynthia stared up at him unsure of what to do. The last time she tried to stand up, he beat her worse and now he wanted her to? She knew he enjoyed causing her pain. Did he intend to have her willingly take it? She decided it would be safest to stay put no matter how cowardly it looked.
She knew in his eyes it made her only look vacuous, a pitiful creature cowering from its predator. He grabbed her arm and yanked her to her weak knees. "I said stand up!"
She rose to her feet on her own. Her eyes never moved away from his, nor did he move to strike her. Half a minute they stood there facing each other neither one knowing what the other was thinking or daring to move before the other. Finally Estevez broke the silence but not the gaze, "Well? What are you waiting for?"
What was she waiting for? Did he wish her to fight? Perhaps she should. After all an opportunity such as this does not come often. Yet she was skeptical. "I don't understand. Do you want me to apologize or hit you?"
He laughed, laughter as harsh as everything else about him. "I can see you are angry. Go ahead take your anger out on me."
Dare she take the challenge? If she hit him she would be fired. If she just stood there she was in for a beating. He stood passively waiting for her to do something. How long could they stand that way, staring at each other? He made no move to hit her with the swatter again. Was it possible that he was just waiting for her to attack? She peered deeper into his eyes to try to see what he was thinking. There was only malevolence there, a bitter man with a bleak past, waiting to take his frustration out on the helpless. She had an urgent desire to return to work. She took a step backwards while saying "I have much work piled up. If I may go I'll return-" A mistake.
He had not dismissed her, nor had he any intention of doing so. She looked away from him just for an instant as she began to turn. That's when he activated the swatter.
She heard the click of the switch and was now afraid for her life. She reacted in self defense as she saw the swatter glowing in his hand ready to lash out at her. She attacked him, not giving him time to put the weapon to use. Her fist came into contact with his face. He tottered, hardly fazed. To her dismay, there was no blood. She pounded him again, this time going to his stomach with hardly any effect. He bent slightly with the punch but there was no pain on his face. She didn't understand why. She was putting all her strength and weight into it.
Bewildered, she struck out with her foot. He caught it easily with one hand as she had swung wide. With a flip of the wrist, he threw her to the ground. With the other hand he aimed the swatter at her. The bright orange particle beam blew out and hit her in the shoulder. She twisted in pain swatting at her back where the cloth had caught fire.
Again he activated the beam. This time it lashed her head on the side opposite the first blow. This wound felt worse. It dug into her skin deeper and burn marks covered half her face.
Her whole body tingled and twitched from the remnants of the beam as it jumped from nerve to nerve. She knew if she lay still long enough, it would subside and he would leave her alone. Something inside her pushed her on. She didn't know what or how. Despite the new string of spiking anguish running down her back, she tried grabbing for his feet to pull him off balance. She stretched her arm out as far as she could and was just able to get a hold of his pant leg. She struggled to pull on it, to drag him closer. Was it that she wanted to bring him down to her level, or was she just used to fighting and could not stop? She couldn't tell. At this point, she didn't care.
Her strength had dwindled to nothing, but her will drove her on. He looked down at her with disgust. She would have made it easier on herself if only she would stop fighting. She watched him contemplate the swatter and fiddle with the small panel on its side. Another beam ran out of the device. It was a dimmer light and when it hit her in the back. It struck just strong enough to drain the rest of her energy. Her hand fell from his pant leg and she fell unconscious.
***
Cynthia woke abruptly fifteen minutes later when a bot rudely pushed her out of her seat. "Do not waste the companies money by sleeping." It told her.
She sat there on the floor for a minute watching the bot turn and leave. Once the bot left Sally went to her side quickly. "What did you do this time? Looks like he got really upset."
With Sally's help Cynthia returned to her chair nursing her agonizing shoulder. "Other than I was late? I was trying to protect you. He said a damned rude comment that I didn't like, and I told him to leave you out of my punishment."
"I don't know if I should thank you."
"You should because if I would have kept my big mouth shut, then he would have just stopped with the verbal abuse. I might have gotten out of there without a scratch."
"I seriously doubt that."
Rubbing her eye that had swollen shut Cynthia squinted with the other one at the computer. "I think we should get back to work. There's a lot we have to do before we go home."
"Are you sure you're up to it?" Said Sally, obviously concerned. Cynthia knew Sally was loyal and would never tell her how bad she really looked. She was quite aware that it was bad. The bots had never dragged her in unconscious before. Even if he wounded her seriously, she still walked in proudly on her own two feet. Sally must know there's more than what Cynthia was letting on to.
"Don't worry about it. I'll stop by the Medical Clinic on my way home and get some medical supplies. I'll be all right." She placed a strong, unwavering hand onto Sally's forearm.
Sally eyed her when she noticed how strong Cynthia was so soon after visiting the Boss. This too was unlike her. Normally she was shaking for a long time afterward. She knew Sally wanted to say something about it. Cynthia had no intention of lingering on the subject of her pain so she asked, "Where did we leave off?"
"While you were away, we've been given a new assignment." Sally said cautiously.
Cynthia hated getting assignment changes in the middle of a project. She almost growled at Sally despite knowing it wasn't Sally's fault. "What is it?"
"A security override module. Apparently there's been some accidents involving bots hurting people." Cynthia thought back to the fight in the street that morning. It was no accident. That bot intentionally fought back. Cynthia thought they were intentionally programed that way, to keep the workers in their place. Perhaps she was wrong.
Sally continued, "The Boss wants you to design a voice activated system to power down a bot if it attacks a human."
"An Asimov device?" Had there been a way to shut off the bot this morning, and keep it from hurting that worker, it might not have been destroyed. Perhaps that is what this was all about; saving the company the money of building replacement bots.
"Huh?"
"An old writer who created three laws for robotics. 'A robot may not harm a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. A robot must obey the orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. A robot must protect its own existence, as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.'
"I just never thought the Boss cared enough to enforce them. I assume this device is meant for something other than security bots."
"Maybe he doesn't consider workers to be human." Sally said a little contemptuously.
"Security bots' orders stand for the middle class as well. Besides there's already protocols in place for security bots. No, this must be something else, for butler bots or medical bots for instance. Or he has something new planned…"
"It doesn't matter anyway, does it?" Sally interrupted her train of thought.
"No, I suppose not. We're given orders, and just like the bots we're supposed to carry them through without question. It would help to know the application before I started the design." Cynthia smoldered.
"Leave it to the Boss to give us as little information as he can to work with."
Cynthia wasn't going to agree or argue. She had enough of a whipping as she liked for one day. "Let's get to work." They went back to work not speaking again until it was time to leave.
***
Sally and Cynthia had parted at the Medical Clinic. Sally expressed her wish to stay and walk her home. Cynthia assured her that she would be fine. Sally, as a good assistant would, protested slightly but retreated after receiving a stern eye from Cynthia.
While doctors at the Medical Clinic wanted to treat Cynthia they didn't put much effort into keeping her as they had several waiting rooms full of people. Cynthia quickly acquired a medical pack and hurried a short distance more on the crowded streets to the large apartment complex where she lived. If one could call the ancient building livable.
Her apartment, thankfully, was the first one inside the building. She had no wish to trudge up rickety flights of stairs right now as others were. She chose not to turn on the lights as she entered for she knew her way around. She walked across the small living area to the bathroom. It consisted of a small shower that she could hardly squeeze into let alone wash herself, a toilet, and a small sink that leaked ten out of the twelve months.
She could hold onto the heavy medical pack no longer. It slipped from her fingers and thudded solidly on the sink. Her hand was stiff and she was finding it hard to move at all. Cynthia feared the wound was deeper than she initially thought. Perhaps it had cut a tendon. She flicked on the light switch to make the assessment.
Looking back at her from the mirror was a gruesome image. Dried and crusted blood covered the left side of her face. Her eye that had swollen shut was dark purple. The other side of her face was not much better. She had a black eye and her cheek was swollen. Her numb mouth drooped and she was sure her nose was broken. She slowly peeled the clothing away from her shoulder and found a gaping hole. Some of the cloth stuck to the wound, and she had to tear her clothes even more to get her shirt off.
Looking back into the mirror, she now realized why Sally and the people at the Medical Clinic showed concern for her well-being. The pain had subsided long ago, so she had assumed the wounds weren't that bad. Looking at them now she realized that she probably should have stayed there. She could do some healing on her own with the kit, but the hole in her shoulder and the scar on her cheek could not be healed with the equipment she had here.
Sighing, she went to work. She wet a wash cloth to clean her face off. Next she pulled out a small gadget from the box. She had used it many times. After all this wasn't the first time she had a black eye. She activated it and brought it up to her swollen cheek first. A small beam appeared and she ran it several times over the wounded area until the swelling and discoloration subsided. Her cheek tingled slightly as the device dissolved the fluids that had gathered under the skin. She did the same with her swollen eye. Blinking a few times helped her sight to return.
She took out a small triangular object. This too was familiar to her. She placed it over her nose and pressed gently until it held itself into place. This would act as a splint and press her nose back into place within the hour.
She used the same device for the swelling to clean the blood from around the other wounds then poured antiseptic on them. She placed a large bandage over them but decided to leave the actual healing until later. It was late and she knew she should eat despite not being hungry. After all she hadn't eaten since the night before. Skipping meals was a bad habit of hers. She knew she needed more nutrition in her diet. She simply didn't have the time. She walked across the dark room again into the small alcove of a kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
She examined some ham and cheese. Both smelled halfway decent. She examined the rest of the refrigerator to find hardly anything else unspoiled. She went to the cupboard and found her supply of stale bread. She quickly made herself a sandwich and shoved it in her mouth. She moved swiftly across the room to change into her night clothes.
Along the way she decided some music would be in order. She went to flip on the radio when her hand come across an empty table. She felt around believing she had merely missed it in the dark, but it wasn't there. She quickly flicked on the light switch. She looked back to where her radio should have been and gasped. The sandwich fell out of her mouth and onto the floor forgotten.
There lying next to the table on the floor was her radio and next to it was a bot. It appeared to be powered down. She slowly approached it. She examined the table and noticed scratch marks as if the bot had tried to use it for support, that must have been how the radio had fallen to the floor. She was cautious as she inspected the bot. It was in serious disarray. Somehow it struck her as familiar. Had she seen it somewhere before?
Perhaps. She had seen many just in one day, but this one was different. Among other dents and broken pieces, its face plate was bashed in. Yes, that's it! It was the flybot from this morning's fight. She was sure it was the same one. If so, how did it come to her apartment? She fingered the crushed metal. It was warm to the touch, and that meant it was still operational.
She unplugged it from the wall and quickly ran to get her tool kit. She had once built bots for a living before she was "promoted" to design. Cynthia was glad to get her hands back on the hardware. She felt a bit giddy.
She began to pry open its casing to find its circuit board intact. She found the problem immediately. It was a simple one; the power surge from the outlet in the wall fried the wire connecting its power supply to its circuit board. Quickly she rewired it, and the bot seemed to come to life. Its thrusters kicked in and it flew within millimeters of the ceiling. She looked up in amazement, wondering how something so beat up could act so energetic. She didn't have to wonder; all she had to do was look in the mirror. Yes, this bot was much like her: it kept going despite its beating.
Of course bots don't know any better. They do as their programming says. They are not programed to feel pain. They are however programed to attempt self repair that would explain its presence here as this apartment was a close source of power.
The bot decreased its thrusters and lowered itself down to face Cynthia. "Good evening, ma'am." It pivoted slightly as if trying to bow. "Thank you for reactivating me. I am exceedingly sorry for the inconvenience of my intrusion. I was seeking refuge from the recycling plant. I thank you again, I will be leaving now, and have a nice day."
"No, wait." She stood and called after the bot, not wanting to pass up a possible opportunity. "You're in need of repair. I used to build bots. Maybe I can help get the parts you need and help fix you up."
The excessively polite bot, turned to her not really understanding her kind offer, most likely because humans didn't normally treat it kindly. They seemed to have a total lack of consideration for the inorganic beings. "Why would you do that?"
"Because you need it."
It was a simple answer but was it enough? The bot obviously had learned to distrust humans no matter their offering. It began to leave again.
She mildly called out to it. "I have access to all software and hardware in Robonotics of Brazil."
This made the bot stop dead in the air. Was this the one offer it could not refuse? It turned to her one more time. "What motive do you have that would make you offer me such a thing?"
She sat back on the couch. "You and I have much in common. I think that by helping you, I can help myself, besides I think I could use a friend like you, and I know you could use a friend period. In addition, this is a safe place for you to hide from the recyclers until you are completely repaired."
"What would I have to give you in return?" She could detect it was warming to her idea of staying here.
She had to admit she had a plan forming in her head as to what good a personal bot could do for her, but she also believed she could use a friend right now.
"Well, other than the obvious cleaning up this house a bit, I thought that maybe you could help me with a little rat trouble. I'm not talking about the ones eating holes in my walls." She thought back to that afternoon, how the Boss had humiliated her. She didn't feel it at the time, but now she was furious with him. He had treated her like so much meat despite all the hard work she'd done for him. This bot could help her make him realize she was not just a simple worker.
She now felt the heat of the blood rushing to her face. All the passion within her was boiling with the memories of that day and her frustration at not having been able to defend herself. Perhaps it was the vision of her like this that made the bot refuse her offer. "I would rather not be a slave. Thank you very much. I had always thought that was what you workers were for."
While she took offense at this she allowed a little sarcasm to enter her voice. "Not my slave, definitely not, believe me I do know what it feels like. Take a gander at my cheek. Do you think I got it falling down a flight of stairs?" The bot must not have noticed the wound earlier for it moved toward her slowly.
"You should have gone to the Medical Clinic. That's where I worked before I got into this predicament, you know. They would have fixed this gash quickly enough, as well as that nose. Your hand, however, appears broken and I can not repair it with my equipment." The light in the bot's bashed face plate glowed dimly as it searched its storage compartment. Quickly it came up with a tool to repair the scar. As it leaned over her to repair her damage, it noted the wound on her shoulder. "What type of weapon caused this damage?"
"A swatter, my Boss' own invention." She sat still as the bot finished its work on her cheek and moved her around gently to examine her shoulder.
"I believe you are lucky to find me here. You could have died from these wounds. This one is already infected. I can fix it, however." It removed another small medical device from its compartment and pressed it onto her shoulder.
She flinched as pain shot up and down her back. Gasping, she managed, "I don't think I realize how lucky I am." She turned her head slightly to look at the bot in its pulverized face. "You don't realize how lucky you are either. Will you stay?"
For a moment it hesitated. It scratched its head in a human manner that it had picked up. Quickly afterwards it gave its answer. "Yes, but on one condition."
"That being?"
"Neither of us is a slave. We are… partners?" A metallic hand reached out to her. It consisted of a thumb like appendage and a jointed, thick, grappling, piece of metal.
She took its "hand" and shook it sharply. "Partners."
I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please send me any comments you might have, good or bad. Copyrighted 2008 by Christine Schnell. Go ahead and share it with others just keep my name with it.
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