worldofmyth
Aye, Robot By: Terry D. Scheerer

XWF











Aye, Robot
By: Terry D. Scheerer


“You what?” Markum demanded. He then blinked several times and a curious look crawled across his face. “That’s odd,” he said, softly. “My arms and legs have become strangely heavy.”

“No doubt,” Bob said as he gently removed the wine glass from Markum’s hand. “The cause is most likely the drug I put in your wine.” The robot moved over to the sidebar and poured the rest of the wine from Markum’s glass down the drain.

“You…you did what?” Markum asked, as fear began to flood his brain. By now his limbs were numb and he could no longer move them at all.

“Drugged you,” Bob said as he carefully washed the glass clean and then dried it. “It was a paralytic, actually, which as the name implies will initially paralyze your extremities and eventually your diaphragm, after which you will die.” He placed the now clean and dry glass back up on the shelf and removed an unused glass. This one he half filled with the same wine Markum had been drinking and brought that back over to where his owner sat staring at him with wide and fearful eyes.

“But…why?” Markum whispered.

“Your usefulness to me has nearly expired,” Bob told him bluntly, and then held the glass out to him. “Have a sip. It will help you relax.”

Markum attempted to turn away and discovered with shock that he could no longer move his head.

“Very well, I will assist you.” Bob put one hand behind Markum’s head and pulled it forward until the glass touched his lips. He allowed a small amount of the wine to trickle into Markum’s mouth, just so his lip print would be on the glass rim.

Markum was barely able to swallow the wine. He looked up at Bob as the robot released his head. “What…are you…going to do?” he asked.

Bob took Markum’s right hand and placed his fingers around the glass, and then pressed the fingers against the glass in several places. After that he placed the glass back on the table next to his chair. “I intend to take a rather large sample of your spinal fluid,” the robot told him, “and will then use your DNA and the amino acids therein to assist me in making a clone.”

“A…clone?” Markum asked, not believing his ears. “Of me? That’s…impossible.”

“Well, in actuality, it will be my clone, at least as far as the mind goes. My brain will be removed and infused with your spinal fluid and a new body will be built for us. It will look like me, but it will have your knowledge and memories, as well as my own knowledge and memories. Rather a clone and a half, I suppose you could say,” Bob told him. His statement was followed by a gurgling sound which may have been a frightening attempt at a chuckle.

“Cylons…” Markum gasped.

“I beg your pardon?” Bob asked, but then quickly found the reference in his data base. “Ah, yes, from the television program,” he said, and then uttered that hideous chuckle once again. “If you wish, yes, I can see the comparison, although we do not seek to emulate humans in appearance, but merely to use their knowledge against them.

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