Stanley Duncan's Robot: Genesis by David III (korean ebook reader .txt) 📕

Her stomach churned. “But won’t somebody get hurt?” She already knew the answer.

“Shannon, that’s why we have you here. Always the sharpest tool in the shed,” said Evan, turning his attention to Brad. “Once significant impact has been reached, we’ll hunt them down and leave their mutilated bodies in the street. Everything needs to be traced back to Duncan. So be sure to hire someone outside the force to do the hits.”

Bile burned in her throat. “‘Significant impact’? Those are human lives. They could be our friends.”

“Everyone knows the risks,” said Evan. “If your stomach’s too weak — and we already know just how unserviceable it is — then get out.”

“Bastard.” Shannon slapped a beer off the table, shattering it against a wall. “I did everything to protect Sophia. If you hadn’t been such an aggressive piece of shit, I’d still be a mama, and my baby would still be alive.”

Evan’s face twitched. “Clean up this mess, and

get out.”

Shannon grabbed a broom, fuming over his cold response. Her heart felt crushed. She didn’t understand how he could be so cold, especially after everything she’d done for him. If that was the way he was going to treat her, then she was done. Done with him, done with the war on machines, done with life.

“As for the traitor who brought the abomination into our town, everyone already knows Stanley Duncan is a creep. Let’s dig deeper and get our friends in the media to put out a few smear pieces on him. Let’s sell the story of Daffy, disgruntled Duncan and how he plotted to destroy our great nation. We can pay him a visit and force him to update the program for Brutus. When we’re done, people will be begging us to clean them off the streets, and Marshfield will return to being the great town it once was. Brad, I’m entrusting this to you. Make it happen.”

“Damn it!” Frank stroked his mighty beard.

“What?” Stanley leaned toward Frank’s tablet, his vision too poor to see what was going on.

“The data has been corrupted.”

“Are you sure? Maybe whoever reprogrammed it added another layer of security,” said Stanley.

“Could be.” Frank lifted the severed cat head. “But I’m guessing the reason is simpler than that.”

Stanley remembered the big dent in the door. That must have damaged the sensitive electronics in the cat’s head.

“What?” said Dan. “Preserving its memory wasn’t a huge factor when I was trying to save our lives.” He nodded toward Stanley. “And you did hit it pretty hard with that broomstick.”

“Oh, stop it, Dan. All I did was get it angry. Damn thing nearly took my arm off.”

“Is the data salvageable?”

“Yes. I’ve already begun the process, but it’s going to take some time.”

“How long?”

“There are terabytes of data that need to be checked and then reconstructed. Depending on the damage, it could be a few hours or even days.”

Dan stood up and smiled. “Let us know when it’s ready.”

Stanley thought his dear cyborg was having too much fun. This was a serious matter. They were risking a lot by going beyond the safe doors of the condo, and there were untold troubles awaiting them in these videos.

“Wait,” said Frank, his fingers dancing briefly over a mechanical hand. “I have a request.”

“Oh?” asked Dan.

Stanley didn’t want to jump through any more hoops. “Your toy attacked us, and now you’re asking us for favors?”

“It’s fine, Stanley. This will give us an opportunity to do some good.”

“If it’s too much to ask, then forget about it.” Frank threw up his hands in defeat.

Dan glanced at Stanley.

Frank turned around. “It’s just that being in the presence of one of the world’s greatest minds is an opportunity I don’t want to squander. And with Dan, your collective analytical power is unstoppable.”

“You’re really buttering it on,” said Stanley. “I can’t imagine this is a task I’m going to enjoy.”

Dan cleared his throat “What Stanley means is, ‘How can we help?’”

Frank leaned back in the chair. The knuckles of his intertwined fingers grew white, and his gaze distant. “Fuse.”

“What about it?” Stanley shrugged. He wasn’t going to be anyone’s drug dealer — or, worse, try that dreaded drip.

“It’s an epidemic. I want to know who created it and why.” Frank flipped the tablet between his fingers. “The fuse problem has haunted me for years, but I can’t find a satisfactory answer. I’m not demanding that you do it. I’ll give you the data either way. But if you can do this for me, I’ll forever be in your debt.”

“What a safe-sounding quest!” said Dan.

Stanley nodded. “We’ll see what we can do.”

“The director of the local library is quite knowledgeable about the subject, but even he doesn’t have the answer. I suggest going to see him. In the meantime, I’ll set up a meeting with the principal of Marshfield High. We’ll let the world know what you have created.”

Stanley and Dan shopped for a little while longer and then made toward the front of the store. Four androids were manning the registers. They were an older model that needed to be charged electrically. Unlike cyborgs, which ate, drank, and breathed, these androids relied on electricity for their energy. If they broke any laws, their owners were the ones who would be held responsible. Though machine life wouldn’t serve time in jail, they might be sent for decommissioning. A death penalty.

These cashiers had limited functionality, as Dan and Stanley quickly saw. They adeptly bagged the groceries, stated the total, and then thanked the customers for shopping. Beyond that, they seemed functionless. No eye contact. No emotion. Alive or not, one could readily wonder if these androids even recognized that there were shoppers.

They looked similar, with only a few accessories or pieces of clothing distinguishing one from another. Each identical face had the same blank stare and eerie smile.

Stanley wondered what Dan was thinking. He knew that Dan had read about the horrors inflicted on these androids — both predecessors