Page 11-15

“Nooooo,” she cried, squirming in her seat, tugging hard on her buckle, she was stuck, a perfect target.

Pink caught out of the corner of its lens, the struggling girl, elbowed the silver bot and pointed at the girl.  Silver held up five fingers, Pink nodded, and they shook mechanical hands.  The great shape shifting blob of puke now hovered over the girl, the gravity kicked in and dropped it on her and the two men sitting on either side of her.  Silver fist pumped, slapped Pink on the shoulder, and held out a palm.  Pink shook its head, reached into its chest, pulled out five penny sized crystals and placed them in Silvers hand.  Surely the two robots would be pissing themselves from laughter if they could laugh.  The Pink stripe looked the other bot in the lenses, Silver was wiggling its hips and counting its new found fortune.  Pink shrugged and turned towards the exit.

After their enthusiasm settled from watching the monitors in the cockpit, they pushed a button and the guests shoulder straps disconnected.  Simultaneously the guests pulled themselves free from there seats and jumped to their feet.  They walked around the vomit covered center aisle, one man in a blue pinstripe suit attempted to hop over the pile but slipped and landed on his ass, covering himself in the goo.  Everyone let out a chuckle and proceeded to the exit.

The two men on either side of the girl who were also covered in slime were not interested in mockery, they ran to the service station next to the cockpit and toe through the cupboards in search of cleaning supplies.  The pretty little blonde just sat there, crying.

Had the robots been programmed with the behavioral cognition of a neural typical human, one might assume they might be upset about something by the way the door from the cockpit slammed open.  They weren’t.  The two men had found hand towels and they were shoving each other to get more.  They nearly jumped ot of their shoes when the door slammed open.  A dark grey robot emerged from the cockpit and walked straight up to them.  The robot looked with those lifeless lenses at the cleaner man holding the most towels, and paused, for dramatic effect.

The cleaner man had a scar on his forehead, just above his left brow and it stretched thin when he frowned at the handful of towels he was holding.  He looked up to the grey robot, “Do you have towels bigger than this?”  He asked and diverted his eyes towards the bald man on his right.  “These tiny things aren’t getting the job done, right pal,”  he continued nervously looking for support.  He wasn’t getting any.

The robot held up a red cylinder with a metallic handle, pulled a pin out and let it drop to the floor.  The ring was followed by the weight of white powder hitting the two men and a white cloud formed around them.  Everyone aboard the shuttle turned around to watch the scene play out.

“No,” it said, shooting another blast from the fire extinguisher.

“What the hell man!”  Scarface took a step forward but was halted by the mechanical hand of the robots twin.

“Move along please,” the twin said, and shoved Scarface back hard towards the cupboards.

“Defeated, the man threw his arms in the air, “Okay, okay.  I will take it up with your boss.”

The first twin bot shot another blast from the ire extinguisher and gave them a hard shove towards the back of the shuttle.  Then, the bot approached the blonde, still crying in her seat.  It held up the extinguisher and unleashed the remaining white powder inside.  “Move along please,” the robot said.

The blondes crying turned to growling.  She gripped the arm wrests and pushed herself slowly from her seat.  The tips of her furled brows cut two parts all the way back to her high ponytail which was held in place by tight braids wrapped around the side and up the back of her head, tied into place with a gold ribbon.  Her eyes locked with the bots lenses, she reached into her brown trousers, pulled out a screwdriver and thrust it up with all her might towards the bots chin.  She was too short and the tip only managed to draw a little white line under the bots chin.

The robot grabbed her by the wrist, picked her up, tossed her over its shoulder, and carried her of the shuttle the way she was carried on, kicking and screaming.

The last foot stepped off of the shuttle, not the slightest bit bothered by the girls usual complaining.  The lights of the hangar flickered to life and a familiar face to each, and every guest stood patiently waiting for her robots to gather everyone around.  Her chin held high so that she could look down on everyone, scanning their faces, counting, ensuring that they were all there.  Whispers in the air settled like leaves falling from a tree to rest on the ground.  Under her spotless cream skin lies a giant question mark as to what she might be thinking, if her programming had the ability to think for itself at all.

With perfect posture, to match her bosses, she watched and waited as the guests formed a semi-circle around her.  The compressing and decompressing of the four robot escorts hydraulics settled.  Obedience was compulsory, man had been here before, thus, silence, until the screaming girl came running down the shuttle ramp.

Thunk, thunk, thunk, “Mother!” the blonde shouted and pushed her way through the nervous crowd.  She ran towards the cream skinned bot arms spread wide and grabbed on to the bot tight.

“Oh my dear Beatrice,” she replied returning the girls embrace.  “It is so good to see you.”

Beatrice pushed away, hands gripping tight on Mums black and white uniform, and opened her big blue puppy eyes.  “Look at what these monsters did to me.  They got their disgusting innards all over my new outfit.”  She pointed at the culprits with a frown, then crossed her arms.

Mum patted her mechanical hand on Beatrice’s head, “Oh dear.  I am sure you have seen much worse.”  Mum replied, kneeling down to the girls eye level, the lights in her lenses twinkled simulating teary eyes.

“No, I haven’t.  This is the most worst, awful thing to ever happen.”  Beatrice looked at the skinny man and pointed.  “That one is lucky he is so ugly, or I would eat him first.”

Mum placed her finely crafted hands on the girls shoulders, “We will get you cleaned up, but first,”  she lifted a finger in the air, “do you hear that?”  Her blue lenses shifted left and right, then she spun at the hips, followed by her legs and wandered off into a dark corridor.  If fer had a smell, it would be that of piss, shit, and vomit which radiated from the guests.

“Come along children,” came Mums voice from the dark passage.

“Well.  You heard the bot.  Andiamo,” sad a short, fat, oriental man the locals call “Charming”.  He was anything but.  Charming shoved a slender timid man still in his blue and white polka dot pajamas ahead.  “After you,” he gave the man a hard pinch on the ass and looked over his shoulder to Beatrice.  “Save your appetite girl, there is nothing on this one.”

“I prefer pork,” Beatrice replied.

The twin bots lead the flock single file into the corridor, one by one, they felt like pigs being lead to the slaughter.  The walls rumbled, the twins parted, Pink and Silver driving the heard from the back stood firm as a wave of organic idiots turned and piled on to one another while rats poured from the vents.  The dark corridor grew darker as it swelled with rodents and swarmed the guests.  Buttcheeks took the brunt of the swarm, claws, tails, and the occasional bite burned into his mind, a moment he would never forget.  Charming screamed the most primitive of screams a man could scream, Beatrice behind him, a creature of chaos, squatted and laughed maniacally, “Come my foul minions, show these heathens retribution.  Muahahahahahahaaa!”  The rest of the guests cowered from the screeching swarm until they passed and disappeared back into the vents.

Beatrice stood, looked around, “That’s it?  But, but, your all still here.”

“Alright, alright.  Settle down you little psycho.  Let’s get a move on before the bots get hard ons and fill your tiny stomach with your own feet,” Charming said.

The twins shoved the heard forward.  The floor grates chattered, and the vents ignited the air.  Angry, the walls howled and fans carried fresh breathing air into the passage.  Papers on the walls broke free from their pins and flapped about.  The vermin scratched and squeaked in the walls still and Buttcheeks shriveled in on himself. 

The occasional red light on the ceiling was the only light providing a clear enough vision for the guests until a dim blue light appeared on the far end of the corridor.  As it grew larger, and brighter, Buttcheeks speed up his pace, Charming and Beatrice right on his heals.  As they drew near to the door, music began.  The twins parted as they passed through and the soothing sound calmed the guests, pulling them blindly into the middle of a large domed auditorium.

On a lifted platform, Mum played violin, ever so gracefully.  The guests circled around, some tearing up, others completely mesmerized by the beauty of the music.  For a moment, she seemed human.  She glowed from antenna to antenna, then she opened her lenses and the music stopped.  At that moment the guests realized they were inside of a giant aquarium when two hypnotized Great White Sharks bumped into the glass.

The room gasped, the sharks spooked, nipped at eachother, and banged hard against the glass again.  Guests stumbled as the station rumbled and Mum fell gracefully off the platform into the arms of Pink and Silver.  From toe to heal, she was placed gently on her feet and let loose the violin for the robot named Pink to take away.  The sharks swam out of sight, replaced by bubbling colours of exotic fish and the auditorium let out a collective sigh of relief that fogged up the glass. Silence gripped the room.  Mum balled up her mechanical hand, brought it to her mouth, “Ahem,” she mimicked clearing her throat, then gestured to the far side of the auditorium.  A dozen white sofas raised from the floor.  Two by two the guests took their seats.  A giant man shoved Buttcheeks to the floor where he would stay.  The small comfort brought a smile to all except Buttcheeks who remained sitting uncomfortably on the white tile floor.

Work in progress…

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