Expedition Westward

  ***

  Out in the hallway, the sounds of violent lovemaking resounded through the workshop door, shattering the quiet of the deserted building.

  “Yes!” Che cried. “More! More!”

  Star’s voice shrieked an incoherent, ecstatic reply.

  But as the hours passed and moonlight began filtering through the windows, the orgiastic racket intensified to a frightening level.

  “That’s enough!” Che cried. “Stop!”

  Star growled like an insatiable wild beast.

  “No more! I can’t stand it!” Che pleaded.

  A loud crash, followed by the sound of bare feet running. The door handle jiggled frantically.

  “Get back here!” Star commanded.

  The door handle stopped jiggling. Che screamed, but there was no one to hear him – except for Star, and she loved it.

  58. Back at the Ranchero – yet again

  Ajax slumped at his desk in the mayor’s office, morose and baffled at the recent turn of events.

  How could they have just walked off the job like that? he wondered. Do they have no civic pride?

  Any rational being could see that the water diversion project and its consequent lake were crucial. What was now a malodorous, bomb-blasted area would become a beautiful new city center; months, or even years of gainful employment were open to them. Why could they not understand?

  He knew the answer to that question.

  It is because I suck as mayor, he thought. My vision fails to inspire.

  As if in agreement with this assessment, a chorus of voices sounded in the street:

  WE WANT WINSTON! WE WANT WINSTON!

  Ajax rose from his desk and stood at the window. He was so tall that he had to flex his knees in order to see outside. At his full height, he’d be staring at blank wall over the window. That eventually did not seem inappropriate, somehow.

  A mob of sixty or seventy robots had gathered in the street four stories down. They carried a large, crudely-lettered banner which echoed their chant.

  WE WANT WINSTON!

  Precisely what do they expect me to do about that? Ajax pondered. I cannot conjure him out of thin air.

  The crowd spied him at the window.

  “There’s the big guy himself!” somebody yelled.

  A chorus of boos issued from the mob.

  “Go back to your comic book, Ajax!” somebody else shouted.

  Ajax recoiled, his sense of honor deeply offended. Wasn’t this the same bunch that had cheered him only a few weeks ago when he’d taken over as mayor and ended the ‘Winston tyranny’? Such ingrates!

  The mob took up a new chant:

  Ajax to the comic book – Winston to the mayor’s office!

  For a instant, Ajax desired to accommodate their will in spectacular fashion. He’d simply crash through the window and swan dive to their level, shattering himself on the pavement. But his programming would never allow such an act of self destruction. He turned away from the window.

  “I must do the honorable thing.”

  He removed the mayor’s medallion from around his neck and set it reverently on the desk. After a moment’s hesitation filled with the chanting of the mob, Ajax strode out the door and up the stairs to the penthouse level

  His ‘executive suite’ cell was just the way he’d left it. The coat hook still jutted from its place high the wall.

  This is not going to be easy.

  His programmed taboo against self-deactivation was nearly as strong as the one against suicide. For the first time in his existence, Ajax used a psychological dodge to circumvent his nature.

  “My, look at that hook in the wall,” he said aloud. “Would it not be nice to hang myself up for a while, take a load off my feet.”

  The absurdity of this remark set off alarm bells in Ajax’s mind. To silence them, he concentrated on the racket of the mob rising through the open window:

  WE WANT WINSTON! WE WANT WINSTON!

  “Yes, let us take a little break,” Ajax said. “I will just hang here a few minutes and then back to work.”

  He maneuvered his back against the wall, seeking the coat hook. His pressure sensors detected it against mid shoulders. Ajax slid down the wall until the hook contacted his deactivation switch at the base of his cranium.

  Farewell, cruel world!

  Oblivion.

  ***

  A few hours later, the mech birds returned from their sojourn to Pickle Lake Castle, intent on rejoining their master. They found him on the penthouse level of the REX, sagging lifeless against a wall.

  They fluttered about, chirping piteously, trying to revive him. When that failed, they swarmed outside, 1,000 strong, seeking revenge. They were extremely angry.