Robut Rampage
Chapter 2
The robut, being the first in a planned series of killer robuts, was designated Zero One. Zero One stood in the corner by the record player, listening to the reverse-swinging tunes of Count Basie and His Jazz Orchestra. The machine’s posture and expression were immutable but that did not prevent it from looking forlorn.
The vinyl was an imprint from the Galactic Library. The Galactic Union had apparently catalogued as much Earth media as possible after Jonas Jupiter’s abduction and subsequent induction into the union. Those librarians were voracious for new data.
There was nothing wrong with the vinyl itself. It was the record player that was faulty. Something was faulty with the laboratory’s fabricator. Everything it printed was backward, no matter which settings the professor experimented with. Everything was backward in different ways too. Ray guns with the grip on top. Flat-handled screwdrivers. Bolts that tightened counter-clockwise. Clothes that button on the European side. So on and so forth.
Jupiter pored over the code on the console screen while Skrum retrieved a brick of nutrient gelatin from the pantry. Anxiety always piqued his hunger and he was an anxious creature.
“I can’t believe you eat that stuff raw. It has no flavor,” said Jupiter.
“Siziks do not taste. We digest our food externally,” said Skrum. “We should focus on the robut’s programming. There must be an error in the code!”
“Obviously something is wrong. My killer robut wants to play jazz!” said Jupiter.
“Not just jazz,” interjected Zero One. “I want to play all music.”
“Even atonal music?”
“What is atonal music?”
“Garbage,” answered Jupiter.
“Then I want to play garbage!”
The professor shook his head and slapped the side of the monitor. “We have to fix this code. This contract is worth a lot of credits. They’re not going to pay for musicians. No one wants to pay for musicians.”
Skrum vomited on the protein block. Jupiter gagged.
“I eat when I am anxious,” said Skrum defensively.
“Whatever. Let’s just do an R-E-S-E-T and try to fix the code. Otherwise, we’ll have to S-C-R-A-P this thing and start over.”
“Professor, I believe Zero One knows how to spell,” said Skrum. “It is trying to escape.”
The robut clambered to the laboratory door.
“The door’s locked,” scoffed Jupiter. “It’s not going anywhere.”
Zero One beat rhythmically on the door with its powerful clamp-hands. Hammer blows left dents in the thick metal. Then the battered door fell open and the robut disappeared into the city outside the laboratory.
“Dammit! Skrum, find a schematic for a sparker and start printing it right away. I’m going after it.”
Skrum glanced at his currently-digesting dinner. “But Professor, can’t we report it to the proper authorities? If they have to dismantle the machine they will provide us with an itemized receipt.”
“Zero One has over twenty-two unique kill modes and a hundred deadly components concealed in its body. It can assemble a warhead from spare parts. I can’t just let it run amok while we stare at a dot on a computer screen. It’s a literal killing machine.” Jupiter snatched his bumbershoot from the umbrella stand and tucked it under his arm. “Get to work on that sparker. We need a way to shut it down. You know how to find me.”
Skrum had already pulled the schematic up and sent it to the fabricator. He glanced at the dissolved nutrient brick, dry washing his hands.
“I suppose there’s time for a little snack.”