riptide_asylum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
riptide_asylum) wrote2010-04-16 09:19 am
riptide_asylum) wrote2010-04-16 09:19 am
"The Ballad of the 7512-R" (crack, 1987)
Title: The Ballad of the 7512-R
Rating: PG
Summary: After the untimely demise of the Roboz, Murray sets out to rebuild. With lasers.
"It's really quite an extraordinary machine," gushed Murray. "Really, just quite...well, extraordinary!"
"That's one word for it," Nick muttered.
The three of them were standing in the salon and Murray had just made him and Cody walk in with their eyes closed, having promised "a big surprise". As the last big surprise Nick had been promised was Khe Sanh, Nick had gone first and peeked between his fingers. It was still a surprise.
"It looks kinda like my ninth grade gym teacher," Cody whispered. Nick bit back a snicker.
"I mean, when you think about all the work that went into this," Murray continued, "the countless days of design, the-the numerous hours spent researching just the right kind of silicon to enhance the motion-detectors in the bumpers...well, I don't think I have to tell you what a-a-a-a breakthrough this is." Murray stabbed a finger in the air triumphantly. Cody took a step backward into Nick's arm.
"A work of art! That's what this is! This! This is a work of art!" Dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief, Murray surveyed the work of art like a father looking at his newborn.
The art in question was the Roboz 7512-R, Murray's latest and greatest incarnation
of the peculiar genius he brought to artificial intelligence. After the Roboz' untimely demise at the hands of a gang of jewel thieves, a popcorn-popper and a rogue curling iron, Murray had been inconsolable for weeks. Nick and Cody had tried everything: pizza, tickets to a Padres/Cubs game (even after they'd sworn never again after the last time), even a couple plastic bags full of every monster movie Dockbuster Video owned. Nothing had brought Murray out of his funk, until finally he'd locked himself in his stateroom for three full days and refused to come out. Cody had gotten so worried that he'd convinced Nick to help him flatten Murray's food until it could be slid under the door, so at least they knew he was eating something. Murray wasn't a guy could afford to miss many meals.
And now here, in front of them, stood the fruits of those labors.
Seven feet tall if he was an inch, the 7512-R was more....guy-shaped than the Roboz. With the curved, shiny yellow metal of his biceps lending menace to the arms currently folded across his chest, and an articulated stomach panel ("Whatever you do, don't call it a six-pack," Nick muttered to Cody), it did indeed look nothing so much as a junior high gym teacher. Or an Army drill seargent. Nick figured the first time it moved, he'd drop and give it twenty.
Where the Roboz' head had been modeled on that of some obscure ant Murray had fallen for, the 7512-R's head was flatter, with an almost granite profile. It stared out at them through what looked to Nick suspiciously like the headlights from a '58 Plymouth Fury.
"I can't wait to turn it on. Can you? I bet you guys can't wait either." Murray snatched up a small black box off the seat of the rattan chair and began fiddling with the controls.
"Oh," Cody ventured, "we might be able to wait."
Murray ignored them and, reseating his glasses firmly on his nose, flicked a switch at the top of the box. A green light flashed on dully. A second later, matching lights gleamed in the 7512's eyes, and his blocky head swiveled on its post.
"Ooh. Ooh! You see that, guys? That's the new bolt-on neck joint. I patented it, just in case, but if my calculations are correct, this is the first major breakthrough in artificial articulated cervical joints since Joseph Brady invented the neck brace. Now the respiratory system's based on that of a rabbit, to accommodate the additional size while giving it the power to move freely." Murray turned a dial on the box. "It's really just...well look at it. Look!"
At the sound of Murray's voice, the 7512-R turned its head and appeared to regard each of them in turn. Nick's blood ran cold and he took a step closer to Cody.
"Now, if you'll just watch, I can show you how the new--"
"YOUR SMUG SATISFACTION WILL BE SHORT LIVED. PREPARE TO DIE." The voice matched the body, low and bullying. Nick stepped in front of Cody.
"Hey wait a minute, 7-12, I didn't teach you to say that!" Murray whacked the back of the control box with an expression at once wounded and confused.
"Murray," Cody said slowly, "is this thing dangerous?"
Murray stopped whacking and looked up. "Well not especially, Cody. The lasers in his groin are equipped with no less than six different fail-safe--"
The first shot took out the blinds, and the second the fishing poles on the rack above the couch. Cody hit the deck and Nick was right on top of him.
Murray gasped. "No, 7-12, no! Bad 7-12. Those are my friends! You can't shoot them."
The top half of the 7512-R swiveled slowly in Murray's direction. "1 QT. SOUR CREAM 1 TSP. SAUERKRAUT 1/2 CUT CHIVES. STIR AND SPRINKLE WITH BACON BITS."
Nick scrambled to his knees and fished under the couch cushions. It took him only seconds to locate the Beretta Bobcat. He took aim at the rogue machine.
"No!" Murray yelled, backing up. "It has a kill code." The 7512-R advanced. "Hang on, it'll come to me." He bumped into the back of the rattan chair and sprawled on the carpet with a cry. "Nine-five....uh... nine-five..."
The 7512-R advanced on its creator. The laser in its groin glowed a deadly orange. Nick slipped off the safety.
"Nine-five-victor-victor--"
The orange laser began to hum and Nick pulled the trigger. All six shots clustered in the eyes, and glass splintered around them, sleeting down on the thick orange carpet. Under Nick, Cody whimpered, but finally the 7512-R was still. The laser powered down, its orange light finally winking out.
For a long moment, no one spoke, then with a cautious look around, Nick rose, and helped Cody to his feet, brushing him down. He could feel Cody shaking, and the haunted look in his best friend's eyes told Nick he'd be getting precious little sleep tonight. Gunfire had a way of doing that to a guy. Nick squeezed Cody's arm gently, then Cody nodded, and the two of them crossed the salon and tugged a shaking Murray to his feet.
"You okay, Boz?" Nick asked softly. Cody put a hand on the little guy's shoulder.
Murray didn't answer, and that was answer enough in itself. The silence in the salon lengthened, broken only by the remnants of the blinds crashing to the table. Everyone jumped.
"Y'know, Murray," Nick began softly. "I ever tell you about this Packard I was restoring in high school?"
Murray shook his head, eyes on the carpet.
Nick whistled. "I loved that car. I mean, I loved it. Spent every free hour I had on it. Did the engine, the struts, the shocks, the brakes, new carburetor, whole nine yards. Then one day I was showing it to this gal-pal of mine, Bobby Harlow? And somehow, the emergency brake on that car let go and before you know it, she and I are running for our lives from the damn thing. It got loose and bam! Took out Old Man Dallas's shed. I spent the whole rest of the semester building him a new one."
Murray took a deep breath, and then another one. Finally he asked, "What happened with Bobby Whatshername?"
"Bobby Harlow? She took up with the captain of the volleyball team and never gave me the time of day again. But you know what? After awhile I thought about it, long and hard, and you know what I decided?"
Murray managed to drag his gaze to Nick's eyes. "No. What?"
"That the next car I built'd be a Vette."
For a long moment Murray looked like he might cry, then he took off his glasses and cleaned them with the tail of his shirt. "That was my Vette, Nick."
With a sharp glance at Nick, Cody squeezed Murray's shoulder and said, "Didn't you keep all the bits of the Roboz, Murray?"
Murray nodded, still cleaning.
"Well Nick and I can help you rebuild the little guy, can't we Nick?"
"We sure can, Murray. How 'bout it? You wanna get the old gang back together? Get Roboz back on his feet?"
Murray frowned. "Well technically first we'd have to retrieve his foot from that one fellow's--do either of you know whether the State of California has any regulations about the removal of artificial limbs from the bodies of felons?"
Nick and Cody shared a look over Murray's head, then Cody asked, "Didn't the Roboz have rollers?"
Murray stopped cleaning his glasses and looked up. Without his glasses, Nick decided, he looked smaller somehow, more vulnerable. A slow smile made its way across Murray's face then he put the glasses back in their accustomed place, where they sat crooked and taped. "That's a very good point, Cody. The Roboz did have rollers. But maybe he should've had feet. Maybe I should've gone for feet from the start. You know, the first artificial foot was invented in 1862 during the Civil War, strangely enough by a man named by Henry....Tose." Murray hooted with laughter. "Tose! Get it? Henry Tose, inventor of the artificial foot?"
Nick grinned. It seemed their resident genius inventor was gonna be just fine.
Cody frowned. "I don't get it. Nick, do you get it?"
Nick shrugged, still grinning. "Let's talk about it over drinks at Straightaways." He patted Cody's chest and threw an arm around Cody's shoulders. "What d'you say?"
Murray's face fell. "But..." He looked around the salon. "I really should clean up all this--oh, he's still smoking, that's not good, not good at all."
Nick and Cody mollified their partner and shepherded him toward the stairs leading to the rear deck. Too many things had been broken on the Riptide over the years to start worrying about a smoking robot now. Besides, Nick figured the way their luck went, some bad guys would likely break in while they were gone, and with any luck, they'd be the next ones facing the Seven-Five...Seven-Twelve's...not-Roboz' laser pants. Nick squeezed Cody's shoulder and gave him a quick grin as they herded Murray up the stairs.
Halfway up, Murray turned and started back down. "The thing I don't get is why the voice-recognition lumbar disc didn't pattern-match my voice to the database of pre-recorded samples." He held up two fingers and started in the dead robot's direction. "I don't understand it. Even if the pitch of the phonetic sine wave was off, due to excitement, the tone and duration still should have correlated with a ninety percent probability!"
Cody gestured Murray back up the stairs, shaking his head at Nick. "I don't understand it either, Murray."
Nick cracked up at that, and slipped an arm round Cody's waist before brushing a hand over his ass and sending him up the stairs after Murray. Nick took a final look back at the dark, unmoving figure in the salon and narrowed his eyes. He had to admit, usually Murray's inventions were a lot more useful and a helluva lot less deadly. Just went to show that sometimes even geniuses needed a helping hand.
Then Cody turned and rushed back past him, fire extinguisher in hand and with Murray hot on his heels. Leaning against the doorframe, Nick watched the two of them fill the salon with clouds of vapor, Cody covering the killer robot with foam head to toe, and Murray pointing out any spot he missed. Sighing, Nick shook his head and crossed the room to help. He and Cody exchanged a look, then they each took a side of the contraption and lifted. "Anything you need offa here, Boz, before we send him on his way?"
Frowning, Murray opened his mouth to object, then stopped. He dropped his skinny arms to his side, the fingers still twitching, plucking at the edges of his corduroy pants. He tilted his head one way, then the other, considering. "Well, I could try and reprogram his weapons system to emit a less well, deadly form of threat-cessation, for the next time the Roboz runs into trouble. Maybe have it shoot beanbags. Or pepper spray. Or maybe tune the laser to emit a high-pitched but only slightly unpleasant whine."
By mutual unspoken agreement, Nick and Cody put the robot down.
"Oh! Or maybe there's something that can be done with olfactory assaults. You know, I recently read a paper in the JAMA--that's the Journal of the American Medical Association--"
"Murray," Cody tried.
"Boz," Nick said at the same time.
"About new research being done at the University of Copenhagen on the negative psychological effects of close-proximity exposure to spoilt herring." Murray's face fell. "Or maybe it was the University of Oslo. I never can keep those two straight."
"Murray," Cody tried with a sweet smile. "Is there any part of this rust--"
Nick coughed loudly.
"--ic robot," Cody corrected, "you want to hang onto or can we go ahead and get him outta here?"
Murray looked at the 7512-R for a long moment then burst out laughing. "Oh, to hack with it. Let it never be said the ole Bozarino can't rebuild from scratch and do it even better the second time around! Heave ho, boys!"
Nick and Cody heaved and began carrying the robot towards the door.
"Wasn't this the third time round?" Cody asked, struggling with his end.
"Keep heaving and don't argue with the genius," Nick answered. They balanced the 7512-R's massive stomachplate against the railing. "One."
"Two," Cody answered.
Murray appeared at the door. "Three."
The big yellow robot tumbled face-first into the water with a mighty splash.
Rating: PG
Summary: After the untimely demise of the Roboz, Murray sets out to rebuild. With lasers.
"It's really quite an extraordinary machine," gushed Murray. "Really, just quite...well, extraordinary!"
"That's one word for it," Nick muttered.
The three of them were standing in the salon and Murray had just made him and Cody walk in with their eyes closed, having promised "a big surprise". As the last big surprise Nick had been promised was Khe Sanh, Nick had gone first and peeked between his fingers. It was still a surprise.
"It looks kinda like my ninth grade gym teacher," Cody whispered. Nick bit back a snicker.
"I mean, when you think about all the work that went into this," Murray continued, "the countless days of design, the-the numerous hours spent researching just the right kind of silicon to enhance the motion-detectors in the bumpers...well, I don't think I have to tell you what a-a-a-a breakthrough this is." Murray stabbed a finger in the air triumphantly. Cody took a step backward into Nick's arm.
"A work of art! That's what this is! This! This is a work of art!" Dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief, Murray surveyed the work of art like a father looking at his newborn.
The art in question was the Roboz 7512-R, Murray's latest and greatest incarnation
of the peculiar genius he brought to artificial intelligence. After the Roboz' untimely demise at the hands of a gang of jewel thieves, a popcorn-popper and a rogue curling iron, Murray had been inconsolable for weeks. Nick and Cody had tried everything: pizza, tickets to a Padres/Cubs game (even after they'd sworn never again after the last time), even a couple plastic bags full of every monster movie Dockbuster Video owned. Nothing had brought Murray out of his funk, until finally he'd locked himself in his stateroom for three full days and refused to come out. Cody had gotten so worried that he'd convinced Nick to help him flatten Murray's food until it could be slid under the door, so at least they knew he was eating something. Murray wasn't a guy could afford to miss many meals.
And now here, in front of them, stood the fruits of those labors.
Seven feet tall if he was an inch, the 7512-R was more....guy-shaped than the Roboz. With the curved, shiny yellow metal of his biceps lending menace to the arms currently folded across his chest, and an articulated stomach panel ("Whatever you do, don't call it a six-pack," Nick muttered to Cody), it did indeed look nothing so much as a junior high gym teacher. Or an Army drill seargent. Nick figured the first time it moved, he'd drop and give it twenty.
Where the Roboz' head had been modeled on that of some obscure ant Murray had fallen for, the 7512-R's head was flatter, with an almost granite profile. It stared out at them through what looked to Nick suspiciously like the headlights from a '58 Plymouth Fury.
"I can't wait to turn it on. Can you? I bet you guys can't wait either." Murray snatched up a small black box off the seat of the rattan chair and began fiddling with the controls.
"Oh," Cody ventured, "we might be able to wait."
Murray ignored them and, reseating his glasses firmly on his nose, flicked a switch at the top of the box. A green light flashed on dully. A second later, matching lights gleamed in the 7512's eyes, and his blocky head swiveled on its post.
"Ooh. Ooh! You see that, guys? That's the new bolt-on neck joint. I patented it, just in case, but if my calculations are correct, this is the first major breakthrough in artificial articulated cervical joints since Joseph Brady invented the neck brace. Now the respiratory system's based on that of a rabbit, to accommodate the additional size while giving it the power to move freely." Murray turned a dial on the box. "It's really just...well look at it. Look!"
At the sound of Murray's voice, the 7512-R turned its head and appeared to regard each of them in turn. Nick's blood ran cold and he took a step closer to Cody.
"Now, if you'll just watch, I can show you how the new--"
"YOUR SMUG SATISFACTION WILL BE SHORT LIVED. PREPARE TO DIE." The voice matched the body, low and bullying. Nick stepped in front of Cody.
"Hey wait a minute, 7-12, I didn't teach you to say that!" Murray whacked the back of the control box with an expression at once wounded and confused.
"Murray," Cody said slowly, "is this thing dangerous?"
Murray stopped whacking and looked up. "Well not especially, Cody. The lasers in his groin are equipped with no less than six different fail-safe--"
The first shot took out the blinds, and the second the fishing poles on the rack above the couch. Cody hit the deck and Nick was right on top of him.
Murray gasped. "No, 7-12, no! Bad 7-12. Those are my friends! You can't shoot them."
The top half of the 7512-R swiveled slowly in Murray's direction. "1 QT. SOUR CREAM 1 TSP. SAUERKRAUT 1/2 CUT CHIVES. STIR AND SPRINKLE WITH BACON BITS."
Nick scrambled to his knees and fished under the couch cushions. It took him only seconds to locate the Beretta Bobcat. He took aim at the rogue machine.
"No!" Murray yelled, backing up. "It has a kill code." The 7512-R advanced. "Hang on, it'll come to me." He bumped into the back of the rattan chair and sprawled on the carpet with a cry. "Nine-five....uh... nine-five..."
The 7512-R advanced on its creator. The laser in its groin glowed a deadly orange. Nick slipped off the safety.
"Nine-five-victor-victor--"
The orange laser began to hum and Nick pulled the trigger. All six shots clustered in the eyes, and glass splintered around them, sleeting down on the thick orange carpet. Under Nick, Cody whimpered, but finally the 7512-R was still. The laser powered down, its orange light finally winking out.
For a long moment, no one spoke, then with a cautious look around, Nick rose, and helped Cody to his feet, brushing him down. He could feel Cody shaking, and the haunted look in his best friend's eyes told Nick he'd be getting precious little sleep tonight. Gunfire had a way of doing that to a guy. Nick squeezed Cody's arm gently, then Cody nodded, and the two of them crossed the salon and tugged a shaking Murray to his feet.
"You okay, Boz?" Nick asked softly. Cody put a hand on the little guy's shoulder.
Murray didn't answer, and that was answer enough in itself. The silence in the salon lengthened, broken only by the remnants of the blinds crashing to the table. Everyone jumped.
"Y'know, Murray," Nick began softly. "I ever tell you about this Packard I was restoring in high school?"
Murray shook his head, eyes on the carpet.
Nick whistled. "I loved that car. I mean, I loved it. Spent every free hour I had on it. Did the engine, the struts, the shocks, the brakes, new carburetor, whole nine yards. Then one day I was showing it to this gal-pal of mine, Bobby Harlow? And somehow, the emergency brake on that car let go and before you know it, she and I are running for our lives from the damn thing. It got loose and bam! Took out Old Man Dallas's shed. I spent the whole rest of the semester building him a new one."
Murray took a deep breath, and then another one. Finally he asked, "What happened with Bobby Whatshername?"
"Bobby Harlow? She took up with the captain of the volleyball team and never gave me the time of day again. But you know what? After awhile I thought about it, long and hard, and you know what I decided?"
Murray managed to drag his gaze to Nick's eyes. "No. What?"
"That the next car I built'd be a Vette."
For a long moment Murray looked like he might cry, then he took off his glasses and cleaned them with the tail of his shirt. "That was my Vette, Nick."
With a sharp glance at Nick, Cody squeezed Murray's shoulder and said, "Didn't you keep all the bits of the Roboz, Murray?"
Murray nodded, still cleaning.
"Well Nick and I can help you rebuild the little guy, can't we Nick?"
"We sure can, Murray. How 'bout it? You wanna get the old gang back together? Get Roboz back on his feet?"
Murray frowned. "Well technically first we'd have to retrieve his foot from that one fellow's--do either of you know whether the State of California has any regulations about the removal of artificial limbs from the bodies of felons?"
Nick and Cody shared a look over Murray's head, then Cody asked, "Didn't the Roboz have rollers?"
Murray stopped cleaning his glasses and looked up. Without his glasses, Nick decided, he looked smaller somehow, more vulnerable. A slow smile made its way across Murray's face then he put the glasses back in their accustomed place, where they sat crooked and taped. "That's a very good point, Cody. The Roboz did have rollers. But maybe he should've had feet. Maybe I should've gone for feet from the start. You know, the first artificial foot was invented in 1862 during the Civil War, strangely enough by a man named by Henry....Tose." Murray hooted with laughter. "Tose! Get it? Henry Tose, inventor of the artificial foot?"
Nick grinned. It seemed their resident genius inventor was gonna be just fine.
Cody frowned. "I don't get it. Nick, do you get it?"
Nick shrugged, still grinning. "Let's talk about it over drinks at Straightaways." He patted Cody's chest and threw an arm around Cody's shoulders. "What d'you say?"
Murray's face fell. "But..." He looked around the salon. "I really should clean up all this--oh, he's still smoking, that's not good, not good at all."
Nick and Cody mollified their partner and shepherded him toward the stairs leading to the rear deck. Too many things had been broken on the Riptide over the years to start worrying about a smoking robot now. Besides, Nick figured the way their luck went, some bad guys would likely break in while they were gone, and with any luck, they'd be the next ones facing the Seven-Five...Seven-Twelve's...not-Roboz' laser pants. Nick squeezed Cody's shoulder and gave him a quick grin as they herded Murray up the stairs.
Halfway up, Murray turned and started back down. "The thing I don't get is why the voice-recognition lumbar disc didn't pattern-match my voice to the database of pre-recorded samples." He held up two fingers and started in the dead robot's direction. "I don't understand it. Even if the pitch of the phonetic sine wave was off, due to excitement, the tone and duration still should have correlated with a ninety percent probability!"
Cody gestured Murray back up the stairs, shaking his head at Nick. "I don't understand it either, Murray."
Nick cracked up at that, and slipped an arm round Cody's waist before brushing a hand over his ass and sending him up the stairs after Murray. Nick took a final look back at the dark, unmoving figure in the salon and narrowed his eyes. He had to admit, usually Murray's inventions were a lot more useful and a helluva lot less deadly. Just went to show that sometimes even geniuses needed a helping hand.
Then Cody turned and rushed back past him, fire extinguisher in hand and with Murray hot on his heels. Leaning against the doorframe, Nick watched the two of them fill the salon with clouds of vapor, Cody covering the killer robot with foam head to toe, and Murray pointing out any spot he missed. Sighing, Nick shook his head and crossed the room to help. He and Cody exchanged a look, then they each took a side of the contraption and lifted. "Anything you need offa here, Boz, before we send him on his way?"
Frowning, Murray opened his mouth to object, then stopped. He dropped his skinny arms to his side, the fingers still twitching, plucking at the edges of his corduroy pants. He tilted his head one way, then the other, considering. "Well, I could try and reprogram his weapons system to emit a less well, deadly form of threat-cessation, for the next time the Roboz runs into trouble. Maybe have it shoot beanbags. Or pepper spray. Or maybe tune the laser to emit a high-pitched but only slightly unpleasant whine."
By mutual unspoken agreement, Nick and Cody put the robot down.
"Oh! Or maybe there's something that can be done with olfactory assaults. You know, I recently read a paper in the JAMA--that's the Journal of the American Medical Association--"
"Murray," Cody tried.
"Boz," Nick said at the same time.
"About new research being done at the University of Copenhagen on the negative psychological effects of close-proximity exposure to spoilt herring." Murray's face fell. "Or maybe it was the University of Oslo. I never can keep those two straight."
"Murray," Cody tried with a sweet smile. "Is there any part of this rust--"
Nick coughed loudly.
"--ic robot," Cody corrected, "you want to hang onto or can we go ahead and get him outta here?"
Murray looked at the 7512-R for a long moment then burst out laughing. "Oh, to hack with it. Let it never be said the ole Bozarino can't rebuild from scratch and do it even better the second time around! Heave ho, boys!"
Nick and Cody heaved and began carrying the robot towards the door.
"Wasn't this the third time round?" Cody asked, struggling with his end.
"Keep heaving and don't argue with the genius," Nick answered. They balanced the 7512-R's massive stomachplate against the railing. "One."
"Two," Cody answered.
Murray appeared at the door. "Three."
The big yellow robot tumbled face-first into the water with a mighty splash.