Automatons by BP Gregory

Author:BP Gregory [Gregory, BP]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction, horror, scifi, artificial intelligence, fantasy, science fiction, robots, postapocalyptic, dystopian
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

AUTOMATONS

The Clingwrap Playhouse

Well, well; wasn’t this something to tickle the interest and perhaps relax the colon. Voyeur of many a keyhole in her time Joyce stooped to this one avidly, striving for a peep.

One of the tantalisingly raised voices in there belonged to Captain Crazypants himself, the inimitable Swisher … damn, Disher! Those kids were a terrible influence. And fair enough that Disher should be in what, for want of better terms, Joyce dubbed his study hall.

Even that was a little grand: the building was no more than a prefabricated cube, designed to be popped on trailers and hauled away. It was an aesthetic favoured in the education system for music, after school care and anything else readily pruned from the budget.

Took no architects to cough up such grim functionality: merely an extrusion factory and a relatively simple program. In the timeless tradition of its kind the step where Joyce lurked was redolent of cat piss and linoleum.

But that strident second voice pacing back and forth, ah, that was the kicker for it belonged to I-don’t-need-help-to-keep-my-marbles-in-the-jar Mark. Here beneath Disher’s very roof.

Joyce’s skin tingled at the biker’s coarse tones and she pressed eagerly against the door, although not without a self deprecatory grimace. Sad, Joycie, real sad. Somebody ought to come spray her with the garden hose.

Sad that even such a failed encounter was to be treasured by her starving, misguided heart.

‘… If you’re so happy to play daddy,’ Disher was lecturing and Joyce winced; was the fool blind to the violent potential of Mark’s hands? ‘Then it’s about time you learned to keep what you claim closer to home.’

‘My boys thought they were looking for their mother,’ Mark growled sullenly. ‘They thought, you understand.’

‘Ah, yes. Mary.’ Disher could not help unveiling his gloating: just a peep but trashy, like a flash of petticoat at a funeral. ‘Who was of course under the covers. Just as she should be.’ So sly.

Deck him Joyce prayed with her fingertips white against ply: she desperately wanted to see the academic scattered out the door with his nose spouting red.

Surprisingly, Mark took refuge in a more democratic outrage. ‘This is a small town! Bad enough my boys might’ve seen something, but might be more than them peepin’ next time!’

‘You must make things so dramatic. If you’d only give me what I need …’ for a moment a frustrated whine showed through; ‘This ordeal would be over. For you, me, your white picket family, everyone.’

Mark chuckled blackly. ‘Not this nonsense again. You just don’t wanna hear it do ya? Nobody in this town has any secret maps, schematics, plans, or even a bill of sale for laying a single damned shingle. Read my bristly lips: nobody cares!’

‘I want those plans, Mark. I want what’s hiding here.’

‘Ain’t nothing hiding here! Why don’t you just go on after whatever glitzy corporation paid for th’ construction an’ leave us the hell alone!’

‘Do you think I’m playing?’ Disher shrilled. ‘Since we are discussing want, why don’t you have

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