Sunday 29 May 2011

The Automatic Marlboro - Section III, sub-section (a)


The Automatic Marlboro is a science-fiction novelette told in twelve parts, posted serially by me, your slightly sunburned host, Cheeseburger Brown. This is the eighth installment.

Chapters:
1a|1b |1c|2a|2b|2c|2d|3a|3b|3c|3d|3e

Connected stories: Simon of Space, Life & Taxes, Tim, Destroyer of Worlds

And now, the conclusion begins:



THE AUTOMATIC MARLBORO - SECTION III


a)

The lab smells like sour yeast and bitter regret. The cryogenic drum is no longer a brewery; it's been washed out but the odour lingers. Other things are different now, too. Our desks are as far away from one another as geometry allows, for example. We don't make eye contact if it can be helped. It's not because we're shy but because we've been stung dumb by too many small but loaded slights. Nobody knows what anybody's really saying anymore so we just don't say anything at all.

The hobby train has been closed down, its dissociated track segments and cars now hidden beneath stacks upon stacks of boxed spare robot parts ordered by Pulse in order to disorder the budget. We have hips up to our eyeballs, and eyeballs up to the ceiling.

I have never felt so alone.

I'm startled when Pulse appears crouching beside my desk. "Listen," he whispers, "I wanted to talk to you."

I don't know what to say so I don't look at him.

"Marly, I know things are fornicated between us right now. But don't forget to step back and look at the big picture. The budget review is today: presto -- she's gone, and then things can be normal again. It'll be you and me. Like old times, right?"

I let my shoulders sag and look over at him. He has a black eye from where I hit him. I say, "I'm sorry I hit you, okay? Just don't talk to me right now."

"I deserved it," says Pulse, starting to grin but then wincing. "Did it make you feel better?"

"Yeah I guess it kind of did, actually."

We laugh awkwardly, but when we hear Air cough from the other side of the room we drop our voices back to whispers. Pulse asks, "Did you get very far?"

"Don't make me hit you again."

"I'm just yanking your penis."

"You're a comedic triumph."

"Don't be touchy, Marly. She's not worth it. We're bros, man. By sunset all this will be behind us. Right?"

I hold his eye for a moment and then concede with a nod and a reluctant smile. "...Right."

The loading door grinds up, a jester sashays down.

There's no mistaking this particular robot line: it is The Antilogue. He steps up under the lights at the centre of the bay and bows with a flourish before affecting a pose of self-presentation with jazz hands, black bowler hat overturned on the floor, and a lop-sided grin stretching his painted face.

Pulse walks to him, dodging a pallet of spare feet. "The Antilogue! You're looking fit. To what do we owe the honour of this performance?"

The Antilogue nods down at the hat.

Pulse pats his pockets. He looks over at me, shrugging. I shake my head. "I never carry money," I tell him. "Earth habits die hard."

Air sighs melodramatically as she fishes a quarter-hour sovereign from her satchel and tosses it into the hat. Though the hat is empty the coin makes a distinct clinking sound as if it has landed in a bed of peers. Air furrows her brow.

"I'm always serviced at Nirgal," says the robot. "Isn't that funny?"

"So what are you doing on this side of the river?" asks Pulse.

The Antilogue cocks his head. "That is the funny part, isn't it? Very good sir." He straightens and turns to face me as I wander closer. He removes his clown mask and puts it aside, rubbing at one temple with his fingertips. "Goodmorning, sir. I'm experiencing intermittent decoherence in my right occipital module. May I have a tune-up?"

I nod. "Of course. Please step over to the work frame."

The Antilogue looks up at the frame. "Father," he says, his strange little mouth fixed into a permanent smile, "into thy hand I commit my spirit: thou hast redeemed me."

"Is that Shakespeare?" asks Pulse.

"No, sir. It is not."

Pulse peels back the skin. Air connects the cortical cables. I scan the readout. The problem is minor, the remedy routine. We work without banter. The Antilogue peeks between our hands as we hover over him, inclining his head to get a better view of the apparatus under drape in the corner. "That looks funny," he observes...
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14 comments:

Teddy said...

Well...huh. The plot thickens, and in the third act no less!

TRH

al said...

MMMMMore!!

SaintPeter said...

I love the little hat tips to other CBB stories - The Cuthbertson reference last chapter, the Mississauga Machine this chapter.

The plot thickens indeed.

gl. said...

yeeeeee! the suspense!

i also love how you managed to skip right over the courting/fighting over air, leaping right to the fallout & consequences.

Sheik Yerbouti said...

Oh, here it comes.

Also, what's with "thou hast redeemed me"? Is he splicing quotes?

Cheeseburger Brown said...

Dear Teddy,

There's no time like the third act to shake things around a bit and remind the reader it's never quite certain how this ride will end. Third acts should zing!, in my opinion.

Yours,
Cheeseburger Brown

Cheeseburger Brown said...

Dear al.,

Yessir, Will comply.

Yours,
CBB

Cheeseburger Brown said...

Dear SaintPeter,

It wouldn't be cheeseburgery if it weren't all connected, now would it? That's the melted cheese at work there.

Yours,
Cheeseburger Brown

Cheeseburger Brown said...

Dear gl.,

i also love how you managed to skip right over the courting/fighting over air, leaping right to the fallout & consequences.

I'm glad you think that worked. I was afraid some might feel a bit robbed of the melodrama, but I think the point to a certain extent is that it's beside the point.

Yours,
Cheeseburger Brown

Cheeseburger Brown said...

Dear Sheik,

Also, what's with "thou hast redeemed me"? Is he splicing quotes?

The phraseology is based on the translation from the 1769 Oxford version of the KJB.

Yours,
Cheeseburger Brown

Sheik Yerbouti said...

Gotcha; so he is splicing a bit.

By the way, I agree with gl; thank you for moving the story along in that marvelous way you have.

Now all I can wonder is (a) from whence comes this kooky personality, and (b) how literal was his penultimate comment?

Cheeseburger Brown said...

Dear Sheik,

You're right, really it's a mix of Psalms 31:5 and Luke 23:46...I was thinking of Martin Luther's last words, but I also seem to have added the additional sentence fragment from 31 before the whole "Lord of Truth" bit or however exactly it goes.

...Maybe it's a newer edition, despite the antiquated pronouns. Um.

Yours,
Cheeseburger Brown

Sheik Yerbouti said...

My Dear CBB,

You are scholar and a gentleman (or so I would assume based on your writing). Thank you for the discourse -- and for what it's worth, I think it makes perfect sense for this character to use that mix of references. Can't wait to see him a bit closer to Event Zero, though.

Onward!

Teddy said...

Honestly I'm glad we skipped past the courtship and fighting. There's not too many ways it could have gone other than exactly how we've seen it go in so many crappy movies time and time again. Not to mention, it's actually already been done (sort of) in this storyline - that one with Sandy the Spider and the star trek nerds. They all wanted the girl, one of them (the most socially well-adjusted and "normal" of the bunch) got her, the band broke up and she took the opportunity to attempt to rob him blind. Minus the thievery, it's the same story pretty much every time two boys meet a girl. So thank you, CBB, for doing the right thing and letting our imaginations fill in just the right blanks.

TRH