Circle of Fate and Pain
by Elliot Bowers
Chapter 19—Blood of Karma Pulls the Sunset
Three female figures moved along the main street of this border-town neighborhood. They were three female figures confident with what they had done, confident with what they were going to do. They moved along with legs striding, their backs straight and arms carelessly swaying. Vicki, Vanessa and Sieben—all three were of the same height, all three of them with similarly large eyes, their faces stern and artificially stoic. The eyes… There was something dark and strange about their eyes. Someone was going to die today.
And bystanders knew that as well. The only reason anyone would dare walk boldly down the street of Tire Wire Alley could mean only trouble: not a parade, not a part—just trouble. Fights and other kinds of trouble did not happen too often in public in Tire-Wire Alley because there were very often more than a few Netmen around to keep robotic eyes on things. Tire-Wire Alley was still a minor part of Scrap Iron City, and Scrap Iron City always had some kind of trouble. And from the looks of those three girls striding in lock-step, something was most certainly going to amount to trouble. Somebody was going to die today. The people standing on sidewalks were feeling glad that it was not to be them.
The crowd was murmuring. People were pointing, looking at the trio striding boldly along the center of the street. "Isn't that a GR replicate?" said a snatch of conversation. "Who are those two girls walking with it?" That voice, and many other voices, showed the level of concern about what was going down. Maybe there would be a panic. Maybe people would start running when the trouble hit. Whatever it was, this was certainly not going to be a typical daily event.
That trio of females took a sharp right turn and began walking in the direction of one person. That's right; here they come… And the people walking much preferred to not be in their way. Those three were going after one man. Everybody else was clearing the path.
That curly haired man in tee-shirt and slacks noticed the unusual behavior of the crowd right away. Some people in front began to walk a little faster. Some people to his left took a few quick steps to be away from him. Came the thought, What the heck is going on here! When he stopped walking to look around, the people behind him also stopped—looking at him, some looking in the direction of the street. He looked.
What he saw, three girls in leather-and-jeans were coming up on him: two of them just with leather jackets and leather boots to go with jeans and tee shirts, one of them in a leather skirt with tight-fitting top. Two of the females were fleshies as far as he could tell. But the third one… That was a GR replicate—a sleek body of alloys. From the looks in their eyes, he could tell that all three of the females were coming to get him.
Yeah, the looks in their eyes was an especially familiar one. He saw that look in the eyes of cyborg bounty-hunters on some occasions. Even when not bounty-hunters, that was the sort of look in cyborg's eyes when they were regarding a fleshie they particularly wanted to not be alive any more. It was that I-am-going-to-take-off-your-head look.
Any other time, any other day, any other healthy heterosexual male would certainly admire and appreciate the idea of three lovely ladies stepping in his direction. This was not any other time, nor was this any other day. Jack Bent could certainly appreciate the looks of the femals' body-shapes. But if he stood there any longer to appreciate their beauty, he would not remain healthy for long! Then came a voice to interrupt his mind.
The ball carrier fumbles, came the resonating voice of someone familiar. It was enough to make Jack Bent pause. It was that thing's voice—the voice of the cyborg-faced being in the bunny suit. It's so horrible, such a terrible sight, so dark…
The fact that he was hearing that voice again was enough to make him make a run for it! They were going to kill him. "Hell-l-l no!" exclaimed the curly haired man in tee-shirt and slacks. Then he tried to do what any other healthy male would do in a similar situation. The situation was, three artificial females were coming for his head. The action was, he ran.
Or he tried to run. There was no getting away from three females with nuclear-powered bodies, such bodies capable of traveling over a hundred kilometers per hour on flat surfaces. Meanwhile, a human raised up in the chemically contaminated vicinity of Scrap Iron City could hope to run a paltry five kilometers per hour…on a good day. Further true was how Jack Bent's brain was just a sloppy chunk of gray think-meat that needed sleep, needed food, was always subject to the comforts of the body. The brain was no match for three females with computer-brains tat worked a Hell of a lot faster when it came to reflexes. This man was as good as slaughtered from the very second he moved his right leg to start a run.
Those computer-brains of the females processed Jack Bent's first maneuver. Their computer-brains interpreted the kinetic energy applied with the movement of Jack Bent's leg-muscles verses the amount of inertia inherent in a male body of moderate muscular build: six feet in height, 250 pounds of mass. This data was cross-referenced with the maneuvering capabilities of two gynoids with artificial muscle tissue and the electromechanical agility of a GR replicate.
All three females moved. All of that happened before Jack Bent could go into his first stride. By the time his left foot whapped the concrete of the sidewalk, there was a blur of movement from the replicate-girl. Something else whapped the concrete.
Then he was lying chest-down on the sidewalk. His jaw was a mess, dribbling blood. Both ankles felt useless. There were crackling sounds when he tried to move his feet. There was no pain yet as the shock of the injuries was so severe.
Flopping onto his back made him look up at three humanoid females with inhumanly cold expressions on their faces. No chance… The human had no chance. A sloppy glob of human brain in a human body of weak and slow meat meant there was really almost no chance at all. And he knew this. This was the end of Jack Bent: small-time criminal, fun-loving bar-hopper, anachronistic adventurer.
Then, the most obnoxiously irrelevant things began to run through his mind, the dumbest things a person could think in this situation—like how the sunny sky above had clouds going by, how it made the girls' smooth skin look beautiful…even if their skin was synthetic. Never mind the facts that three were achingly beautiful, dressed provocatively. In fact, from this angle, he could just barely see quite a ways up Sieben's leather skirt—not that there would really be much to look at but metal, thank-you-very-much! All three of the females had nice bodies, of course: designed for beauty as well as human-killing functionality. Nice girls… These were nice girls that were just so polite and caring to human beings otherwise—at least two of them were. Nice-and-pretty girls don't obliterate the bones of your jaw, nor are they supposed to shatter your ankles. And nice-and-pretty girls don't reach down to grab you by the head…
One of the pretty girls actually did. Sieben did. One of her metal hands gripped the top of Jack Bent's head—a head of curly hair. "Augh…!" he yelled, using his arms to sit himself up as the pain dug into the sides of his skull. "No-o-o-o! Don't kill me! Don't…kill…me…!" he yelled as his eyesight hazed over with redness and dizziness, the pain in his head increasing.
Somewhere in the haze of redness and swirling pain, that voice communicated with him. It is soon time to pass the ball. Or he imagined those words being said. When it came to communication from the six-foot, cyborg-faced creature in the bunny suit, it was hard to tell if it was talking the words—or if a person was imagining those words being said. It hurts at first. Then you won't care even if it is your fault. It will be your fault in the universe. The end is the beginning.
What was real, and what was imaginary? Certainly not imaginary was the fact that there was a metal hand with a grip that went all the way 'round his head. It was real. The pain was real for him. And the fact that they were going to rip off his head was real. As for the six-foot cyborg-faced creature in the bunny-suit, that was probably in his head—a head being squeezed, skull cracking…a mind full of pain The metal hand began to turn and twist Jack Bent's head on his neck.It was rotation… Just then, he…understood what was happening.
Understanding…of this came to him in a flash of revelation. It was as bright and blazing as the nuclear-bright glare of light he once saw glaring from the creature's right eye. The end and beginning go around, to go around…to go around… Hell yes… Jack Bent understood the truth It really was going to be his fault if they killed him.
He had to keep himself from being taken away because those short muscular bastards were nearby and waiting. Oh yes, they were just waiting for him to be dead. Then they would take him… And once they took him, they would make things start happening. Now Jack Bent understood. Now he didn't want to die. "Don't kill me!" screamed the man. "You don't understand what's happening here!"
The female replicate paused. "The ball carrier must die" came a hard voice, mouth and lips moving. There was no human expression on her pretty face, a synthetic face. And Sieben's face seemed even more synthetic as she began to twist Jack Bent's head even more to the right. The grip tightened, sounds of skull-bone cracking in places.
There was neither satisfaction nor disgust shown on the face—even when there was a gurgling sound as a metal thumb sank into an eyeball. This thumb in the eye-socket provided extra grip when the head had to be twisted some more. It made for a meaty crunkle of sound as the vertebrae broke. This was followed by an awful wet ripping sound as the round part of the human body was separated from the rest of the meat—the part that contained the glob of brain-matter. Jack Bent's headless body was on knees for a moment…then collapsing to fall.
…
2.
…
Cashing in Jack Bent's head was business as usual, though the reward was unusual. It so turns out that the man had dozens of crimes that somehow didn't get posted on bounty lists: destruction of Factory property, destroying human brains, smuggling machine-parts technically capable of powering flying machines… He broke all of the few laws imposed by the Factory and lived to do it again—until today. The Deck-Man that handed out the rewards had to reach for the huge sacks of credits three times.
Sieben walked the short distance with Vicki and Vanessa again into Tire-Wire Alley. It was back to the neighborhood at the edge of Scrap Iron City--where Motorball players and sports executives with too much money came to listen to musicians and eat at bars and restaurants. Things were a little more frenzied along the main drag of the neighborhood, a little more easygoing. It had its share of troubles… But it was as good a neighborhood as any to live.
Still, there were some troubles--the sorts of troubles that could be killed for bounty-money.The nearest Factory-based facility for accepting bounty-heads was especially close to the border-town neighborhood: very convenient for those who wished to take Factory money for the killing of those who violated Factory law. Of the three females, only Vanessa was happy and smiling: This was the second time today that there was a massive amount of cash given. That, and she actually liked killing meat-bag humans.
Humans were a waste of energy. They have sloppy and inefficient meat-bodies, pathetic fleshy brains, always getting sick and hurt at the slightest thing! She sometimes fantasized about the day when all the fleshies died off due to pollution and suffering, leaving a strong, efficient and clean world of sleek-bodied cyborgs and replicates.
The replicate-girl interrupted Vanessa's fantasizing. "Hey… Like, Kyrie's waiting for me," she said. "She's got some temporary people protecting her right now, and some people are really nice… But she only trusts me to really keep her safe."
"Fine by me," said Vanessa, hefting a hefty bag of cash. The credit-chips jingled like jewels and precious metals of long ago. "If you're ever in town again and want to kill somebody, gimme a call! I've got plenty of cash, the more the better. Don't know about my sister, though…" The artificial girl looked sideward at her twin sister.
To that, Sieben glanced at Vicki--whose eyes were downcast. They had already told her their secret--that they were actually robots designed to pass for human, robots made hundreds of years ago. They were from a gentler, more civilized time in human history. It was a time when public governments to help keep people clean and safe, even running places called "schools" to make children smart and healthy.
There were also local people called "police." And violators of the laws were put in "prisons" instead of having their heads cut off and cashed in. Murder and violence was actually rare in some parts of the world because of that system. That kind of world was long-gone, obliterated with nuclear war, earthquakes and the subsequent times of anarchy that followed. The sadness in Vicki's eyes meant that she was not at all happy to live in this time.
Sieben would have much liked to be friends with Vicki--just to ask about that time.
"Well… Okay," said the replicate-girl. "But it doesn't have to be for bounty hunting. Kyrie and I, we--like--come to town once a week. It's this part of town because not so many people think Kyrie's weird. People give her funny looks because of her hair and her eyes… And they get confused when they can't tell if she's a kid or an adult. She's an adult."
"Hey, yeah!" voiced Vanessa. "What's up with your girlfriend, anyway? My eyes can detect hair-dye from twenty meters away, and her hair's really that color. And why is her skin so pale? Most every human around here has a tan… How can she be so pale?"
Kyrie is a slight mutant… Sieben opened her mouth to say that. But she wasn't able to say that because…a feeling came over her. The circular radiation warning symbols turned on deep within her mind: that circular symbol with three triangles pointing inward. Something is happening, she thought. Something bad is still happening.
It was the cyborg-faced figure in the bunny suit--six feet tall, furry body, the front of the head consisting of electromechanical workings in the shape of a face. It stood there while invisible radiation filled the local neighborhood. Indeed, something dark was still happening…because he was standing there
People around here began to react to the creature's presence as well. "Aa-a-ugh…!" screamed a man walking by. Even as he screamed, he clutched his chest and fell to the sidewalk to twitch. Some cyborgs began to stagger quickly away from the man and too frightened to help. A few more people collapsed to the sidewalk as well. That was the beginning of the panic.
Somebody shouted "Radiation leak!" That's all it took. People then started running everywhere. Cyborgs in casual and stylish clothes were making runs for opposite ends of this street. Running feet and pushing arms made for the crowd becoming tumultuous. What was once a calm and everyday scene soon became a stampede. More people were running left, some more running to the right. A few were even trampled underfoot by footwear--some of that footwear worn by people with electromechanical bodies. Not everybody exactly knew what the Hell was going on, but they knew that something was happening. Radiation was bad news.
But at the center of the madness, there was calm. There were four figures unaffected by the kind of high-level radiation that now pervaded this place. Sieben stood here, staring at the figure standing on the city sidewalk--near the opening of an alley. The twin gynoids were also standing here. All of them were looking at the six-foot figure with the electromechanical cyborg-face.
"Why are you here!" exclaimed Sieben. "We did everything you told us to do!" She raised her left arm, left hand gesturing in the figure's direction. "You're the one putting radiation everywhere! Why are you hurting people?"
"Hey, is that guy trying to hurt us?" asked Vanessa. "Hah! My sister Vicki and I, we've got skin and synthetic muscle tissue to block four times the radiation you're putting out." She leaned a bit on her left leg, then she crossed her arms--the sleeves of her leather jacket creaking slightly. "Tell you what. Tell me why the Hell you're wearing that stupid bunny suit, and maybe we won't have to kill you for damaging Factory property. All that radiation you're putting out can't be good for nearby machinery…besides ourselves, of course."
"My sister will kill you if you don't listen," said Vicki. "Too many people died already today. I don't want to see any more dead. Who are you, anyway?"
The cyborg-faced figure in the bunny suit responded, We have met before and again. It was still the resonating communication of the metallic voice. We will make it stop. That said, the figure in the bunny suit put its own furry hands to the sides of its own head.
Click-k-k…went some little parts on the right side of the head. Click-k-k…went some other little metal parts on the opposite side. Some deep-glowing red lights came on in the mask's eyes. There was a florescent-bright flashof light as soon as the seal was broken. R-r-r-ip… Some kinds of connections with flesh were broken as well when the furry hands pulled a bit more. Those furry hands then lowered the front-part of the electromechanical head--which was a very sophisticated mask, holding it in the right hand. This revealed the wet, death-pained face of Jack Bent. His right eye was gone--now instead a wet socket with darkness in it--a darkness darker than the universe.
Next came the bunny suit—to be taken off as well. Like the mask, the figure disconnected parts of the bunny suit. There were more click sounds of strange machine-parts being undone. There was more to that bunny suit than just a fuzzy appearance, then. It was as if strange machinery had been grown into the bunny suit…
So peeled off, the bunny suit was soon a strange heap at his feet. Now he stood there dressed in tee-shirt and slacks—the clothes ruined with dark wet spots where the flesh bled blood…if that could be called blood. His upper body still had lumps of tumors, especially his abdomen--a deep red glow coming from there. Said the resonating dead voice, The ball carrier continues!
"Like, you're dead!" exclaimed Sieben. "What the Hell! We killed you. Your head went into that hole in the Factory building. I saw it go into the…" Into a dark hole. Exactly, they cashed in Jack Bent's head. As for what happened to the body, they did not care. The head went down a hole, not to be seen again…until now.