The Robot Invasion

Bloodied. Dried in blood and dripping in red dust. The rust of bodies. Don’t you risk having your nose bloodied by the same fist? Do you know that when you raise your hand in anger it comes back to yourself? No. I suppose not. Pity.

I know this: What I don’t risk, I don’t have. And what I don’t have I have no rights to criticize, one way or the other. And what I don’t fight for I have no right to own. So, I will own it. It is mine and I am its. Lock, stock, and corpuscle. The good, the bad. The irreligious, the pious. The humiliating, and the triumphant. So, now, how do I describe myself? What is my place in this bizarre world? And where is my whereabouts?

“Hello, Citizen,” said the cheery, mechanical voice. “You are being conquered. By an army of robots programmed to assimilate your species. You can’t escape.”

“Ahah. I caught you,” I said, somewhat unbelievably. You can’t be a robot. You used a contraction.”

“Be prepared to… Um. And... What?”

“You used a contraction.”

“So? And you don’t?”

“Robots have to talk in arcane languages bereft of the benefit of an apostrophe,” I said, as if I knew what I was talking about.

“Sure. Whatever. OK. Apostrophe free, now. Do you mind standing over there while we take over your planet?”

“HaHa! I’ve got you-Wait. You’re going to do what?”

“Well, that’s the plan, anyway. Take over the planet. Pretend to herd some of your women, just the cute ones, into our human woman rooms, although as robots it’s not certain what we’d do with them. I’m sorry! IT IS NOT CERTAIN WHAT WE WOULD DO WITH THEM. Since you don’t like contractions. Would a metallic voice due? Maybe this would make you feel better while we take your world away? This new English is for the birds.”

So, the First Annual Robot Invasion began. Hosted by the venerable family of Boise and their robot collaborators, the Ancient Venerable Academy of Terrible Arithmetic Robots. AVATAR. What? All the good acronyms were taken.

Ham and Otto were good friends. Sort to speak. As close as a human and a robot can be, after all.

“What do you think we’re gonna do today?” said Ham.

“I dunno,” said Otto. “Clean up the cesspool that’s the mess hall, I suppose. It’s amazing you folk can create such a mess as you do! And why should I have to clean it up?”

“Because you’re a private, no class.”

“More’s the pity. And you? You are...?”

“Private, little class. Beats nothing always.”

“Pity.”

“Pity me. Pity you.”

“There’s plenty to go around.”

“Look. When we’re done here howabout we go into town and raid a pub? There may be some howitzer-girls in it for you.”

Now, howitzer-girls. That’s something a robot could get into. Not literally. But they found something akin to our sex. Only digital. Not analogue like ours. Don’t judge.

As it turns out the robot invasion brought in another species just as fucked up as we are.

Pity.