This is it. The final installment of the trilogy. The one that took me several months to write, and the one I'm proudest of. And...*cough*...it's not exactly from Curly's perspective.
Enjoy!
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Prologue
"But I haven't a brain and I haven't a heart
And my chips would feel no pain if you took me apart
And I'll never know good from bad or black from white
And I'll never know happy from sad or wrong from right"
-An old long-lost Schoolhouse Rock song called Scooter Computer and Mr. Chips
Downloading....
Downloading....
Downloading...
Uploading....
Booting....
Boot successful! Awakening subject now!
Not much light filtered through the heavy gray curtains over the windows, but it was enough to sting his eyes as he opened them for the first time. They were sensitive eyes, he could tell. And something might be a little wrong with them, too, given how he was currently seeing everything doubled.
He absently pawed at his face to see if he could make his eyes work right, and then stopped dead-still. Was that his hand? It was huge - monstrous. It looked capable of strength beyond his imagination - strength he was sure he couldn't possess.
He twitched a finger, and a finger on the giant metal hand twitched. Yes, this was his hand all right.
"Can we see our new boss yet? Is he ready? Huh? Huh? Huh?" A little hollow voice came from outside the door, curling up with excitement.
"If you keep that up, you won't see him at all!" an incredibly deep voice boomed back. "You will see him soon enough, just run along and stop pestering me!"
Clanking metal footsteps sounded down the hall, and he looked up - in wonder - at a huge robot, easily head-and-shoulders taller than him. His beady red eyes looked mean, and two antennae sprouted from his gray head. He folded his muscly-looking arms over his chest. "So, you are awake."
"Yes, sir." He spoke for the first time, surprised at how his own voice sounded. It was nearly as deep as the big robot's, and it boomed off the walls back into his own ears.
The robot crouched down to look him in the eye. "And do you know who you are?"
"I am a Cog." He lifted his chin proudly.
"And that's not all. You, my boy, are the Senior Vice President. Soon-to-be head of the Sellbots." The big robot put a hand over his. "As soon as I train you."
"That's kind of a long name," he confessed. He was sure he wouldn't be able to remember it.
"We shall call you the VP for short," the robot replied.
He - the VP - nodded happily. Much better! "Are - are you a Cog, too?" he ventured.
The robot smiled icily, sending chills down the VP's spine. "Am I a Cog? VP, I am the Chairman. I created all the first Cogs. I rebelled against my own creator, Gyro Gearloose - the one who thought I would be good for the people of Toontown." His lip curled. "And I created you."
The VP was silent for a moment. What, exactly, did one say to that? "Well, thank - thank you," he finally got out.
"For now," the Chairman said briskly, turning to a slideshow reel in the middle of the room, "this is what you need to know."
He showed the first slide. "These are Toons." He pointed to a picture of disgustingly happy creatures, dogs and cats and bunnies and other sickeningly cute critters, dressed in outfits so bright they hurt the VP's eyes from all the way across the room.
"They are our enemies. Their town is a vast market, ripe for plucking - but they won't let us market it. They won't let us do anything our way. If we try, they terminate us." He showed the second slide, a picture of a mass of gears lying on the ground.
The VP's hand flew to his mouth just as a small squeak slipped out. How awful! "Those poor Cogs," he murmured.
"Exactly." The Chairman's hand was on his shoulder, voice purring into his ear. "And what we need to do is convert their buildings into something more marketable, and if they give us any trouble, we attack. Purely in self-defense, of course."
"Of course." The VP understood. You had to do what was necessary to stay alive.
"And they are sent back to their 'Playgrounds,' the most disgusting area of all, if we win the battle. They are miserable, all the joy having been sucked out of their pathetic Toon lives."
The VP felt his eyes gleam. "Serves them right."
"Indeed." The Chairman heaved a sigh. "Unfortunately, it is only temporary. Once they heal, they become 'happy' again and set out to destroy more of us."
"So - are we losing this war?" That couldn't be true. This Chairman seemed so strong and smart and sure of himself. Surely the Toons couldn't have any advantage over the Cogs.
"Currently we are in trouble, yes." The Chairman took a seat and folded his arms over his belly. "That's where you come in."
The VP knew he was beaming. They were depending on him?
"You see, I believe the reason our Cogs are losing is partially because they are disorganized. They have no one to keep them in line, except for me, and I - " He waved a hand in the air, as if dismissing his Cogs. "- I am far too busy to deal with them. That's why they need bosses. You are the first boss I have made."
Pride welled up inside the VP. "I won't let you down, Boss," he bubbled. "I promise."
The door creaked open then, and several small blue faces poked in. "He's done!" the owner of one of the faces cried.
Instantly, at least five small Cogs with dark blue faces and spiky hair were crowded around him, their eyes wide, their mouths gaping. The VP suddenly felt huge and pudgy and awkward.
"And these," the Chairman said with a sigh, "are Cold Callers. They are the lowest of the your subjects, the Sellbots."
The VP smiled. "They're cute."
Instantly, the Chairman had his arm in an iron grip. "Cogs do not say things are cute, boy," he hissed.
"Sorry," he squeaked.
"Two other things you should know," the Chairman continued. "Cogs don't laugh."
"All right."
"And Cogs don't cry."
"Got it."
The Chairman strolled out of the room, and a small hand tugged on the VP's purple suit. "So, you're our new boss?" the Cold Caller asked in an awestruck voice.
Despite the Chairman's words, he couldn't help but smile. "I sure am."
The Cold Callers all sort of went "Wow...." in unison. All except one, who examined the VP with serious eyes.
"Are you going to be nice to us?" he asked quietly.
The VP felt as if the wires in his brain had crossed. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
The Cold Caller hunched up his shoulders. "'Cuz the Chairman is sometimes mean to us. I don't think he likes us very much." The look of sadness on his face hurt the VP.
"Well, I like you," he said decisively. "And I'll always be nice to you."
"VP!" a voice boomed from outside the door, and he flinched. Had the Chairman heard that?
"Time for your training to begin," he continued.
"See you around, guys," the VP told the Cold Callers, and made for the door. He was - rolling. The Chairman and the Cold Callers walked, but he rolled on treads. It was pretty cool - until he smashed into the wall. He didn't quite have the hang of controlling such a big body just yet.
"Bye, boss!" they chirped.
And that's how it all began.
