I was planning a fiction post this week, and I was thinking of taking a little break from Sidekick Carl. So, here's something I fished out from a forlorn project I've featured before, the adventures of Percy the robot cop, an ancient character I moved to a setting based on the 1964 World's Fair. (This also led by convoluted paths to the Evil Possum adventure.) I came up with this as a prologue deal, so there's a fair amount of exposition, but for once none of it really got in the way of the scene. So, here goes...
The vehicle that pulled up was a bright yellow van with black trim, with a grill the exact shape of a smiling face. The hum of its motor cut off a moment before it came to a full stop. The figure that climbed out looked human, complete with a fleshed out face, but the nose was too long and narrow to be natural, and what looked like a visor and helmet covered his eyes and scalp. It was also apparent that his fingers were made of metallic segments, casually resembling the gauntlets of a knight. As he emerged, a red and blue light popped out of the top of his helmet.
The building the figure approached was 200 meters tall with a flared top and tapered base that vaguely resembled a capital letter I, one of a number of similar buildings clustered between a monorail loop and the arc of an elevated road. Most of the windows in the building’s face were lit, and a small crowd had gathered at its foot. A slit in the newcomer’s visor glowed brighter as he approached a knot of officers in uniform. One of them, a long-nosed creature that resembled a 2-meter root vegetable covered in spines, waved and whistled. Two evidently human and nearly identical officers in special combat armor looked up from a set of blueprints. One of the few without a uniform, a woman with hair that appeared to be a shade of blue, carefully examined the visored officer. She was the one who stepped forward to greet him.
“My name is O'Keefe, Social Services," she said. "We have a disturbance on the 27th floor. The tenants are a family unit with a history of reports and multiple flags for mental health oversight. Two neighbors say they heard a scream. The alarm was tripped by a consent monitor. Unfortunately, it’s an old model building, so we don’t know any more than that.”
The newcomer was obviously unconcerned. “We never know what matters till we get there,” he said. “I’m going in…”
While the officer’s nose was strictly decorative, he did have a keen sense of smell, mostly through sensors on the inside of his mouth. The first thing he detected as he entered the apartment door was the smell of blood, and the underlying smell of dark bile. His infrared showed a pool of warm fluid, too much and not nearly warm enough. He stepped over as much of it as he could. “I’m Police Robot C,” he called out. “You can call me Percy.” He drew a plasma pistol at his side.
“I hear you,” he said. His sensors did indeed pick up heavy breathing and muffled cries, from the direction of the bedroom. “Aww, for crying out loud…” He smashed a door open. He beheld two figures struggling on a thick mat set up as a bed. His visor resolved them into a somewhat overweight man and a flat-chested young woman of about 15, just as the man rolled over with a knife at the girl’s throat.
“Don’t worry, kid, I got you,” Percy said, “and you, whatever the frink you’re doing, I’m sure the boys at rehab are working on a cure for it. Just let her go, and we’ll take you in.” He raised the gun, but both of the humans were making sudden movements that threw off his targeting reticle. He calculated the odds of stunning them both with a near miss, but the effects were always unpredictable and often included convulsions. The man rose with a sudden lunge, dragging the girl with him. To Percy’s surprise, he spoke.
“Make her give it back,”
the man said, with every appearance of earnestness.
“Sorry, I’m not tracking
context,” Percy said. “Drop the knife, and we’ll sort it out.”
“She’s not what you
think,” the man said with growing urgency. “She acts innocent, but she has
powers. She can control your mind. She can take your soul! Make her give it
back!”
“Not our jurisdiction,”
Percy said. “And since most folks that believe in souls say I don’t have one, I
gotta say it seems a bit overrated. Now drop the knife!”
The girl suddenly cried out plaintively, “My mother! Where’s my mother? Xhoi, what did you do to my mother?”
“Aww…. I’m sure we’ll find her,” Percy said. In his considerable peripheral vision, he glanced back at the pool he had stepped over. He scrolled through files, and came up with a name. “You must be Diellza, but I bet your friends just call you Daisy.”
“Don’t you get it? She
doesn’t have friends!” the man screamed. “Our people know what she is!”
“Stay with me, kid, and we’ll get through this,” Percy said. “And I’ve had just about enough out of you. Put down that knife, now!”
“No,” the man said, his voice suddenly soft. “You can kill me, but I’m taking back my soul!” Even as he spoke, there were two dull bangs as a pair of slugs bored through the wall behind him. The girl dropped to a half-crouch, clutching the knife in her shoulder. She gave an oddly delayed but utterly bloodcurdling scream.
“Thanks, Hexley… and Hexley,” Percy said. “I’m securing the aggressor and the hostage now.” He lowered the gun and approached the man. He wasn’t dead, yet, and there looked to be a chance he might pull through. Then, incredibly, he rolled over. He stared at her, and she returned his stare with a piercing gaze that left even Percy unsettled. The man flinched, and then the girl screamed again.
“C’mon, kid, everything’s okay now,” Percy said. Somehow, she kept screaming as she reached for the knife. “Hey, don’t do that, it’ll probably make things worse.” She pulled out the knife, and the flow of blood from her shoulder intensified immediately. Percy was reaching for a medical pack on his belt when she raised the knife.
“Don’t do it, kid!” he
shouted. “They’ll lock you up, too!” Then the knife came down as she gave
another shriek, and the apartment lit up with the flash of Percy’s pistol.
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