[Original Novel] Little Robot, Part 48

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My mind churned, formulating what I wished to say next in a way which omitted as little as possible while pruning out unnecessary inflammatory terms. “Alright. I guess the worst you can do is kill me, and I’d be dead anyway if not for your help. When first I encountered Christians, I was hopeful because everybody told me they’re the very best among all people.

Imagine my dismay when instead, they were among the very worst people I’ve ever met. Not just one or two but the vast majority with vanishingly few exceptions. Vicious, lying scoundrels for the most part, wolves who don sheep’s clothing for one day of the week.

You might say “The Christians I know aren’t like that!” But that’s because you’re one of them. They treat outsiders very differently, just as hornets don’t sting other hornets. “But it’s okay” they’ll tell you,” because we are forgiven”.

That’s a hell of a thing, isn’t it? If you wrong me, it’s not okay by me if you ask a voice inside your head for forgiveness. I want you to come to me and make it right. If I am deceased or something, make amends to one of my surviving family members. Don’t just decide it’s okay because one half of your internal dialogue said so.

The real troubles began the moment they found out I was not one of them. They trampled, beat up, spit on, humiliated, sabotaged, slandered and took from me someone I treasured. After they were done, I found that the experience of it stripped away every good quality I had before. Everything about myself that I liked was gone, leaving only a vicious, fearful, petty scoundrel as rotten as any of ‘em.

That’s when they offer you redemption. Follow our example, they say. We were like you once, but are reborn in Christ Jesus. They don’t actually nod and a wink as they say it but I didn’t need them to in order to understand, at that point, why I’d been so confused when I met them.

I thought they were at least trying to be good. They’re not. They are the same shitty, abusive people they were before they converted. All that changed is that they discovered they could wipe their slate clean with the community by converting. Because that’s what they really want from you, and a big part of how it spreads.

So imagine my face when it dawned on me that they were selling me the cure to a condition which they inflicted on me in the first place. Like how you’ve got to demolish a building before you can build something different where it once stood.

Come and be like us, they said. Everyone will finally accept you. You can start a church where you tell people Christ has redeemed you and they’ll believe it. They’ll believe anything you say and pay you to say it. On top of that, if you see any pretty faces in your congregation and are the marrying sort, you’ve got your pick of the litter.

I could’ve buckled, but I’m stubborn. The uncrushable bug. I don’t like them. I don’t like what they’re about, or the clean, bright, smiling mask they wear to hide it from everybody else. I won’t let people like that have their way, and I would sooner die than join them.”

We sat in darkness for a time as he digested what I said. I expected all sorts of things. Anger, confusion, argument. Basically anything except what he actually said next. “Yanno,” he wearily admitted, “on some days, I myself don’t think a word of the Bible is true.”

You could have knocked me over with a feather. When I couldn’t summon anything to say to that, he explained himself. “It’s not for us though, is it? It’s for them. The women and the kiddos. While they believe it, life can be real nice for us fellas. It’s a better deal for men than it is for the women, but you disrespect women if you imagine men actually dominated them all these centuries.

What I reckon happened instead is that there were parts of the arrangement women liked, that maintained an order which benefited everybody to some extent. Then there was parts they didn’t like, which I don’t need to list for you. They put up with the bad for the sake of the good because self sacrifice for the ones you love is a maternal quality with much to recommend it.

Now, did fellas hold up their end of the bargain? Many did. Others committed all sorts of violations of the trust women put in them, carrying on with mistresses and whores. It’s no wonder women finally had enough and started getting in-your-face mad about it.

Being walked all over has that effect, I’m only surprised it didn’t happen sooner. The Bible is supposed to keep extramarital baboozery to a minimum, I really think it’s the glue that holds together what would otherwise be a broken machine and keeps it working.

Now that’s fine for a well off society in peace time as there’s nothing more pressing that needs taking care of. But right now, priority one is survival. That means falling back on what works for building strong communities that repopulate quickly. It’s just a happy coincidence that men come out on top until things get better.”

Again I felt as if he was nudging me or wiggling his eyebrows, but I wasn’t picking up what he was laying down. Despite everything I said he still seemed to think that at the end of the day I was on his side and would continue to be.

“That brings me to the matter of your robot.” I told him that she’s machine life and her name is Helper. “Whatever. I can’t have you cohabitating with her. She’s not a woman but close enough that something about you two living in sin don’t seem right, and I’m not the only one who thinks so. Something’s got to be done about it.”

I asked why my business seemed to be everybody’s but my own. He reminded me I was standing in a bunker network built, owned and operated by him. “While you’re down here, you either play by my rules or you take your chances topside. That’s what you agreed to when you helped yourself to my hospitality, you understand.”

I experimentally lowered my head as if moping and nodded slowly. He seemed satisfied thereafter, so I tucked that method away in the back of my brain for future use with other chest thumpers I may yet run into.

Helper hid behind me and avoided eye contact with Big Red as we passed him. It bothered me. I wanted to tell her she’s done nothing wrong. For that matter neither have I, but I also didn’t want to undo all the work I’ve put in so far ingratiating myself to the man on whom our survival depended for the moment.

I found the dining area populated by several grieving women in loose, old fashioned looking dresses. Helper’s lights, already blue, gradually dimmed as she watched them. I wanted to do something to reverse that, so despite never having an ounce of luck restoring anybody’s morale, I asked the woman seated nearest me what was wrong.

“It’s Anthony...my oldest...he’s...not down here.” I made what I felt was an appropriately sad face before realizing the mask obscured it. So I reached over and stroked her shoulder. She pulled away. “He might’ve escaped into the woods” I offered.

She stared off into the distance. Then muttered. “Alone. In the cold, dark night. Pursued by all those...things…” then resumed weeping. I conceded that she’s probably right, that his odds are considerably worse than ours and in all likelihood he was already dead before we came down here. “At least in that case he is no longer suffering”, I concluded.

She began to wail, tears streaming down her face. She then buried her face in her arms, crossed on the table before her. All of the other women glared at me. All I did was offer a realistic appraisal of possible scenarios relevant to her son’s odds of survival!

Helper pushed me aside and took my place. “Ma’am, military robots are-are-are tough but slow compared to a human, especially...a young man in good shape. Dense woods offer excellent cover against gunfire, and-and-and the robots aren’t going to stray from-from....their primary target to pursue...one person.”

She slowly looked up, tears still flowing. But when she spoke, her voice had a hopeful inflection to it. “Is that really true? Are you sure?” Helper doubled down. “I’m positive. Their-their-their tactics include conservation...of energy. They’re not-not-not going to waste it hunting down...a single escaped human when-when the motherlode is...still directly under them.”

She wiped some of her tears away, smiled, then placed her hand atop Helper’s. Helper returned the smile. Some sort of invisible exchange occurred just then, I felt certain. I just can’t quantify it.

^{Stay Tuned for Part 49!}