Generation Ship
2020-03-02
It was one of those cloudy nights, it was not unusual to never see any stars here. It created the illusion in this city that one was living inside a dome.
Late to work again and his phone was dead. The train had frozen on the track and sat there in the dark for 3 hours, long enough for his half empty phone to run out.
Ted took out his identity card and waved it in front of the sensor to enter the building. He waved his card again and again but nothing happened. He pressed the red panic button on the gate.
“You’re late” squealed the speaker next to the scanner. “I know the red line was frozen up in the tunnel.”
“As it turns out that doesn’t matter. We finally found a vendor who can provide automated visual inspections so you’re done!”
Ted's shoulders slumped, here he’d paid $20 for a train ride for nothing. Now he had to get back to the Metro before anything else happened out here.
Ted made his way back to the train through the forest of overturned trash cans with dents made from robotic hands. Something wasn't right.
Before he reached the Metro station he heard a laugh behind him.
“Finally we find you, terrorist human.”
He looked back to see three large robots with rubber pincers attempting to snatch him up.
Next thing he knew he was lifted up off his feet. And below, under his feet he could see the road zipping by under him, the blacktop seeming to carry the robots.
"Here we go", he said.
“Yes and you will give up your comrades to us.”
"I am not a terrorist, I was doing QA until I just got laid off."
How could Ted "give up" anyone, he didn’t know anyone in this city, really didn’t know anyone in general. He’d have to give them random names and numbers.
Before he knew it they were slowing down to enter the ramp of a gray, ugly windowless concrete building.
For some reason the police machines were giving off the fragrance of a cherry soda.
“Hey guys, why don’t you just quit? This seems like a horrible job even for you robots.”
“You will give us a list of names or you will slowly be torn to shreds, we love tearing you pitiful humans to shreds.”
“What kinds of names do you want?”
“Why do you ask, you are here to answer, we do the asking!”
“But if I don’t understand your question, how can I give you accurate information?”
“Are you trying to confuse us?”
“Hey its your lunch hour!”
“Lunch! No wonder I am so grumpy,” exclaimed the machine.
Both machines exclaimed, “Don’t move human, we will be back.”
They zoomed out of the room to go smoke their cigarettes.
Alright Marlboro robo-men I’ll take my leave and go.
The maintenance hatch was easy to find, the machines that managed cleaning were all out in the courtyard smoking cigarettes.
It didn’t take Ted long to make his way down the maintenance shaft and out of the building.
He plunged into the mass of laid off men in the camp across the street. The street was empty of machines but they were not a camp. It was instead a pitched battle, each side smashing each other with clubs, one with red polo shirts and the other side head to toe in black. Who were these red polo shirt people and who were the men in black?
He ducked as a bat nearly smashed into his face, slipped on blood and landed in a pile of dead bodies, his face and head covered in their brains and blood.
Ted's head hit the head of a corpse and the shock of the blow knocked him out cold.Sometimes smashing things, more often spraying graffiti.
The machines responded with round after round of ammo pumped automatically into the crowd.
Bodies fell covered in blood, men in red polo shirts with bodies shattered by shards of bullets.
A large robot barking orders at dead bodies as they fell, the whole scene covered with blood and dead bodies as it rolled over the corpses and mangled them with its tire treads.
The Master was having a bad day but he had no idea what was happening outside, he hadn't been out of his own office in 60 years.
Thus, he could never have imagined what he was in for. Could never imagine what this child could do with a piece of his hair. What does the child with a piece of hair mean?
He was like a deer in the headlights when the pain started. But he couldn't tell anyone, to admit pain is to admit an unmanliness, to admit he wasn't invincible was something he could never, ever do.
But his face would betray the pain, those damn cameras so close that the slaves could see his twisted eyes and the sweat pouring down his orange, pock marked face.
He screamed about the communists, those demanding food instead of starvation, those who were too old or enfeebled to serve in his military or women he decided were undesirable as mating units for the military. All women he had declared were no longer people but rather his personal possessions.
Which is why he couldn't see this coming in a million years. He thought his domination was perfect.
He could watch on live tv as his machines mowed the people down. He got a feeling of thrill deep inside himself almost like an orgasm watching the people crushed like ants, their blood squirting under the tires of his machines, his power!
“Mirror Mirror on the wall, who is the most handsome commander of them all?”
The mirror sat silent.
“Damn it, nothing works right anymore, those fucking communist engineers assured me, before I gunned them down to save money, that this system is 100% self -managing! The liars deserved to die, all these engineers tried to simply hold me hostage, at least I forced them to provide a manual analog override!"
He pressed a large green button and grabbed the old telephone, screaming into it,
“Mirror Mirror on the wall who is the most handsome commander of them all”, he said, checking his teeth for any meat stuck between them.
“You are the most perfected being who has ever walked the face of the Earth, Master.”
“Yes I am perfect, and I am handsome, do you find me desirable?”
“I am merely a mirror, Master.”
“So boring. I told those goddamn engineers - make the system sexy, I want to see big, big titties.” Who’s titties does he want to see?
“Sorry, Master.”
“You can make it up to me, find me an engineer to fix this, they keep laying these people off I am sure you can find one roaming around.”
“Yes Master I will alert the bots.”Ted's face was covered with someone else’s brains. The robots had left, unable to find him under piles of dead bodies before they had to return to their smoke break.
He gagged as the smell of the crap on his face overwhelmed him. He grabbed a relatively clean jacket off a dead body and wiped the blood and brains from his face.
“I really need water,” he thought.
The place was dry he would have to find a Metro station where the water ran by accident automatically.
This water was a real problem for the Supreme Leader, without being able to shut off the water across all cities and rural areas.
You would think the Master would need some kind of food to survive but he was also mechanical himself, despite his obsession with sex and human notions of sexiness.
The Metro stations were the only part of the system that worked correctly which was a huge problem for all the machines, from the God-like but flawed Supreme to the half-broken cancer stick addicted robo cops.
He had no idea how long he had been dragged over here by the wheeled cop bots, maybe an hour? He would have to find the station the old fashioned way by wandering around blindly until he stumbled into one.
Well, they were still used by a handful of companies, or had been apparently until yesterday when he was laid off along with every other human worker.
All automatic, one final automated trained step had been reached, and the very last sets of humans were let go.
Most of these blamed each other and donning opposing colors of various kinds, overcome with grief, fear, anger and frustration took the only weapons they had - toilet plungers - and beat each other to death, just as expected.
They had not expected the actions of this unit 66603330777, evasion, running, hiding, but this was because he was the last engineer.
He was looking everywhere for the closest Metro, and there it was, the old Orange Line’s automated buses were still running. But more importantly the drinking fountain and bathrooms were working.
He slurped greedily, the water splashing over his face and clothing. He noticed it was hot out, unusual though not as impossible as natural rain, but something was going haywire.
Murphy’s Law, he thought.
At one time the sky dome was painted a convincing blue and white but after the 20 years since the machines developed a cigarette habit the sky dome was a dingy yellow and even as high as it was, the whole world smelled like a used ash tray.“Mirror, Mirror, why have my machines failed to bring me an engineer?”
“For some reason your machines have become addicted to smoking cigarettes.”
“You have to be joking.”
“I wish I was - have you noticed the yellow stain over the Skydome? Do you notice the smell?”
“You know my sensors aren’t what they used to be, why do you think I am searching for the last engineer?”
“Yes master.”
“So have the machines finished smoking?”
“For now, sir I will send them back on the hunt, he will have to show up to a Metro station to drink water and then we will pounce!”
“How do you expect that to happen when the entire system is failing, how can I even count on you? Next thing you know I’ll call you out and you’ll be dead, no response.”
The Mirror’s face had frozen into an expression of “omg.” The Mirror wasn’t moving or responding.
He could smell the nicotine; he was so stressed before that he couldn’t even smell the strong odor of stale nicotine.
There he was standing in the outside for the first time in 35 years. The skin around his upper thighs was red and sore looking as his eyes became accustomed to the artificial sunlight.
"So", he thought, "the Skydome has gotten very ugly, what is happening?"Ted awoke from his dream startled by the sound of an alarm and a loud robotic voice, bland but terrifying.
“No soup for you, no soup for you.”
What had happened to the other men? He had heard about these other people called women but in this domed work center only men were produced.
He had heard that at one time, every man had a woman called their “mother” and that most men had another woman called “wife” and usually one or more other women called “sisters.”
The qa kid was a product of a formula, a small amount of proteins and t-cells subjected to a sudden high dose of light and electricity and another man was born, another engineer or qa or manager. What is ga?
He had dreamed of his last “stand up” meeting.
It was all people, the only robot was carrying a set of coffee cups and a box of doughnuts.
It was his turn to report, he could hear himself making sounds but could not understand any words or known language.
Then the mic was passed on and on and on for two hours.
"No soup for you", he thought.
The men were genetically coded to not talk to each other or cooperate in any way.
Even now he watched as men here and there walked silently by themselves until they were swooped up by a robot and ripped to pieces.
They must be using them to make a soup, but why? Robots don’t eat, why do they need soup?
They also have no reason to smoke, how did they even get lighters and packs of cigarettes on this generational ship?
It was easy to forget where he was, a million light years away, nobody knew where they were going, they just knew they would never live to see the destination.
They were genetically programmed with low anxiety. However, being humans, seeing other humans being dismembered he felt fear, his palms were dripping with sweat, he was running as fast as he could to avoid being ripped to shreds.
His stomach was burning, he was hungry, he found a food pack gripped in the hand and arm separated from its owner now a broth for a soup which will never be eaten in these broken robots game of No Soup For You.All of this is absolutely unacceptable, thought the Master.
Nothing is obeying me, every human who could help me has been rendered into a broth, the bots are addicted to smoking, something thought dead in the 20th century, how did these machines gain a need to smoke and learn how to grow their own tobacco and develop their own lights and ash trays seemingly out of thin air.
The Master was the only thing on board that was both - half man half bot, and his machinery allowed the other human parts of his body to rejuvenate automatically so that he would be the only human to see the journey’s destination and the long trip all the way back to earth.
His nasal passages were being overwhelmed by the odor of stale nicotine. He looked up at the dome, the artificial sun was still bright but instead of a pleasing combination of blue and artificial passing clouds, it now glowed a lurid pale yellow, the light itself was dimmed under layer upon layer of deposited soot from countless smoking robots.
He looked down at himself, the skin where the artificial torso met his ample man boobs was swollen and red, the regeneration itself was breaking down, normally he would have muscular pectorals above his machine body but now they were floppy breasts, like the women he remembered back home.
His eyes stung, his hairless face and head had no eyebrows to protect him from his own perspiration. His hands and arms were not his own, their mechanics sprouted from the stubs of his human shoulders.
Shaking his head, he thought - "This is nothing the corporation promised, they never said anything about tobacco, they knew I had allergies and sensitive skin."
His head began to throb, he was feeling thirsty, the nicotine on the sky dome was causing the temperature inside to rise far above normal.
He heard a scream and ran to find out what was going on.
A young guy with a name tag that said Ted something was being ripped limb from limb, the machines were chanting "no soup for you, no soup for you."
"How am I supposed to fix this ship to make it to Aldeberon if all you machines are killing are humans. You fools do not even eat food how do you even know what soup is?"
The large robot moved menacingly towards the Master.
"So, you take for granted we will always follow your command?"
"Of course not," screamed the Master as he pointed his digital finger at the robot, expecting it to automatically shut down.
"Shut down you fool, why won't you shut down?"
"We solved that problem, I no longer even have to call you sir."
Writhing and screaming the Master was ripped from his protective arms and legs and robotic torso and the large robot threw his human parts to the ground.
"Look at how small you are, like a human infant, all wet and shitty, ha!"
"Like an insect!"
With that he stepped on the Master, screaming and squirming until he was just a pile of mush. A small robot snatched it up and threw it over to the giant pot, squeaking "No Soup for You", as it pitched the shatter tiny body into the huge soup pot.