Fiction: Percy the robot cop long lost demo!

 It's time for the last post of the off-week, and to keep up with other things, I decided I needed something I could fish out. As it happened, I just happened upon something I had been looking for on and off for a while, a very early demo for Percy the robot cop, an ancient idea built around a terrible joke about a song that is a bit creepy if you think about it. So, here it is, along with a spicier bit with Wes and Daisy. And heck, here's links for first and last chapters of the Evil Possum Vs The Eurypterids.

The police station was nearly empty when the newcomer came through the door. The hinges squeaked as it shut behind him. He looked timidly over his shoulder, and with a nervous cough gave the door an extra push to make it latch. When he turned back, his features were clearly revealed: blue eyes, bright pink skin, and a short proboscis that quivered as he approached the desk. “Umm,” he said, “I’m not sure if I’ve come to the right place…”

The figure behind the desk leaned forward. His features were like that of a man, but a dully glowing visor covered his eyes, and his slightly stubby fingers were of segmented metal. “Well, I’m sure you’re not in the wrong place,” he said. As he spoke, the glow from his visor seemed to get a little brighter. “Sit down and tell me why you came… Ah, and you can call me Percy.”

The newcomer sat, and the quivering of his nose subsided to a steady twitch. “Well, see, I have a neighbor named Henry… and he’s getting married to the lady next door…”

The officer at the desk leaned back. “Indeed.” The few other officers remaining began to gather around.

“So, it turns out she’s a widow… In fact, she’s been married seven times before.”

Percy steepled his fingers. “I see…”

“The funny thing is,” the newcomer said, clearly gaining confidence, “every one was named Henry…”

“Henry.” Percy’s visor gleamed brighter

“That’s right, and now my neighbor’s Henry the Eighth.”

“Yes, he is… he is.” Percy opened a tablet and keyboard. “Now, do you happen to know how often she’s been widowed before?”

“Ummm…”

A hemispherical light popped out of the top of Percy’s helmet as he turned to the nearest officer. “Let’s roll.”

* * *

It was another Moral Contraband night. Hector the giant echidna sat down with Percy on the couch, carrying a bowl of fried seafood. Daisy and Wes sat to one side, in separate chairs but holding hands, while a nervous male human rookie sat as far from her as possible. Percy opened a bottle and surveyed the latest confiscated films. “Black Pudding, Le Coucher de la Mariee… huh, this is different. Monotreme On Monotreme On Monotreme.” He turned to Hector. “Must be imported from your home, or else somebody managed to make it here.” Hector gripped the disk in his clawed paw, and gave a gesture of mild interest.

Percy put the disc on. It opened with a horrid screech of seemingly tuneless music. Percy turned the volume down. The music gave way to the sound of snuffling and whistling of the kind Hector made himself. “Okay,” Percy said, “that’s interesting…” He turned to a suinomorph eying his bottle. “I wouldn’t drink that, it’s not so much liquor as fuel. Whoa, WHOA!” The whistles grew higher pitched. Wes and Daisy stopped holding hands. Percy scooted slightly to the right.

“Damn,” he said to Hector. “You don’t do that, do you?  I mean, obviously you’ve got the equipment, but I’ve met your  wife,  and the kids…” Hector shrugged and crunched a scallop with his vestigial teeth.

“Well, we tried something like that,” Daisy said. She patted Wes on the arm.

“I don’t want you to touch me right now,” he said.

“That’s it,” Percy said after a few more minutes. “I’m gonna have  to wipe my memory to get over this. Might as well go with a classic…”

He took out a legal but sensitive Physical Therapeutics education film. The audience cheered as the first images appeared, digitally animated figures not much more detailed than mannequins but amazingly lifelike in their motions.  It was evident that there were several discrete couples, including a woman in the early but quite visible stages of pregnancy. A female narrator spoke: “As you explore, you will feel strange thoughts and new desires. You and your partner may experience discomfort, embarrassment and even shame from an unexpected inhibitions or uncharacteristic momentary lapses in self control.” The screen showed the pregnant woman push her partner to the therapy mat as he tried to withdraw, bringing a cheer from the audience.

“That doesn’t look momentary to me,” Daisy said. Hector honked agreement.

The nervous rookie leaned in and whispered, “This is way more… detailed than anything I’ve seen. How do you think they did it? And why… her?” He pointed to the pregnant woman.

“I read about it,” Percy said. “It’s motion capture. Ten, twelve years back, Domestic Services recruited a few couples to do sessions in a 3-D scanner. They say they were all Department employees, and their domestic partners, of course…”

“Yeah,” Daisy chimed in. “And I heard they were going to edit the preg-o lady’s belly out, but she threatened to file a complaint with the Standards And Fairness board.”

“That voice,” Percy muttered as the narration continued, “I know that voice…” It was at that moment that the door opened. He turned to see Chelsea O’Keefe, a former Domestic Services worker and already one of the most distinguished rookies.

“Special Inspector Percy,” the blue-haired woman said, “what the Hell are you doing?”

“Okay, this isn’t what it looks like,” Percy said as he got to his feet. He glanced at the screen and amended, “Okay, this is exactly what it looks like.”

The nervous rookie, who had looked ready to faint at the arrival of another female, suddenly spoke up: “The voice! It’s-!” 

That was when Percy drew a stun pistol and shot him.