Science Fiction Short Stories

I Coulda Beenuh Contenda

DING! The bell sounded for the twentieth time. Francisco "Pancho El Macho" Gutierrez lowered his gloved fists and walked to his corner of the ring. Sweat dripped off his face and he rubbed his arm over his forehead.

"Siéntate, Francisco, siéntate." Jack Carson climbed into the squared circle and spoke quietly in Pancho's ear as the boxer sat on the small stool. Pancho took a slow, deep breath and nodded. An assistant handed Jack a towel and he began wiping sweat from Pancho.

"You're bleeding from your eyebrow." Jack pressed a bandage to the small wound and the bleeding stopped.

"Ten rounds," Jack said. "You're so close to winning this one on points alone." Pancho shook his head, and inhaled deeply, letting the breath out. Jack wiped Pancho's face gently. "How are your ribs? You took a couple hard jabs to the right ribs from 'The Lightning.'" Jack's full attention was on his fighter.

"Not too bad," said Pancho. "Nothing broken or loose. I blocked two of them."

"Tell the truth always to me," said Jack. He ran the towel gently over Pancho's right side and pressed slightly on the troublesome spot. Pancho winced. "Hmmmm," said Jack. He wrapped another towel around a cold pack and pressed it on the spot. Pancho stiffened at the cold but nodded.

"'Lightning Bob' is a fraction faster than you, but you got the reach on him by almost two inches, a knockout punch, and more stamina. Twelve rounds have always been hard for him. His strength is his speed and his close range. He punches hard and darts away before you can hit back. That's how he won the last two matches you boys had."

"He's holding out better this match." Pancho scowled as he eyed the heavyweight boxer in the diagonal corner attended by Marty Olson. Olson refused to coach and train Pancho, choosing 'Lightning Bob' Denisov. Pancho found Jack, fortunately. He had been advised to keep looking, but he clicked with Jack, and the duo had proven unbeatable except for 'The Lightning.' Bob or Pancho, whoever won this last match, would contend for the Heavyweight Championship against the titleholder, 'The Golden One,' Ray Orlov.

Pancho's brain switched over to pure boxing. His heartbeat steadied and he was calm as still waters, but still waters, according to the poet, run deep. His bouts lost to 'Lightning' flashed through his consciousness and the pieces fell into place. He knew what he did wrong and how he might win the match in the eleventh round.

"I'll drop him this round." Pancho relaxed. He had protected his left side from Bob's lightning jabs which left his right side open. No more. He would have to risk luring "The Lightning' in close, foregoing the advantages of his greater range.

"Attaboy," said Pete, finding hope. Pancho had found his direction before, and it worked. Maybe the match was now fifty-fifty. "You can be the contender."

Pancho smiled crookedly. "The truth between us, always, Jack. There's not gonna be any contender for the Heavyweight Title. This is our last match. The last human match." He glanced at the audience in the stadium. Less than half the seats were filled. Much of that audience was on cell phones or talking through the rounds to friends and could care less who won the right to fight 'Sugar' Ray Orlov for the Heavyweight title. A match that would never happen. The empty seats would be filled during intermission by boxing fanatics waiting for the android matches.

Pancho looked at the android section, where four androids sat making two different divisions for the android matches. Heavyweight and light heavyweight. He checked out the Heavyweights. Both androids were 6'6", 250 pounds, give or take a pound, had an 85" reach, and athletic ability beyond any possible to a human, including Pancho, Bob, and Ray. The meat machines sat motionless and observed the matches, their AI brains collecting data and learning everything.

He turned his attention back to the ring and the eager, confident boxer in red trunks sitting there.

DING! Went the bell for the twenty-first time. He got to his feet as easily as though he had not fought ten hard rounds and strode to meet 'The Lightning.'

He closed in and jabbed Bob with his powerful right. Bob expected him to use his greater reach and tried to jab his right ribs again, but Pancho blocked the jab and pivoted on his right foot, putting his weight on his left foot. He set his left heel down on the mat and pivoted to drive his powerful left hook into The Lightning's jaw. Bob's eyes showed he knew what was to happen, but gallantly tried to block the punch.

Pancho's glove exploded against Bob's chin and the fight was over but for the shouting. The dazed fighter swayed limply and collapsed on the mat. The referee pointed to a neutral white corner. Pancho marched there and turned to watch the count.

"ONE!...TWO!" The referee counted to the end, hand rising and falling. "TEN!"

The ring filled with people and Bob was revived. The audience was clamoring for most had missed the knockout. Pancho moved to his corner. Jack had tears in his eyes. "You did it, Pancho."

Soon the ring announcer raised Pancho's hand overhead. "The winner, by a knockout, is Pancho Gutierrez!"

The ring cleared for intermission and the human fighters moved to their dressing rooms. Pancho cleaned up and dressed to watch the androids. Reporters interviewed him as he dressed.

"How do you feel about never boxing again? Professionally. Now that human matches are stopping in favor of androids."

Pancho smiled as his fixed his tunic. "Androids are the future and the future is now. Droids are faster, stronger, more endurance. AI can learn faster than we humans. Androids are taking all the sports. Boxing, wrestling, baseball, soccer." He shrugged. "The audience prefers the thrill of android sports. I'll go into the future and watch the android matches tonight. Maybe make a bet." He grinned, crookedly, revealing a few spaces once occupied by teeth.

"You coulda beenuh contenda for the Heavyweight Title. How do you think a match with the Golden One would have gone?" another reporter asked, his vidphone recording.

Pancho smiled, serene. "No telling. On a good day I might win. Or Orlov might win. We'll never know. Excuse me, now, I want to get to my seat in time for the first droid match."

The light heavyweight android match went as expected. It lasted the full hour, and one droid won by a few points. The machine walked to its handlers and waited, motionless. They downloaded the match data into their programs. They led the droid offstage to raucous cheers from the crowd filling the stadium.

The heavyweight androids took the ring. The announcer called them by their boxing names, for they had no personal names. DING! The bell began the first round.

Pancho watched closely. The androids were evenly matched, and the punches flew fast and hard. The crowd cheered. DING! One-hundred-eighty seconds later the bell signaled the break. Pancho checked the points. In one match the androids had earned half again as many points as any human match. The androids stood in their corners as their handlers updated them with data from the first round, made adjustments to their technique and checked that injuries were healing properly.

DING! The second round began. One android knocked the other down and the crowd howled. Pancho watched as the fallen android leaped to its feet and launched a fury of blows at the other. He was impressed. The AI had picked up and processed data.

He nudged Jack, sitting beside him. "Not bad. That android is learning."

"Yeah," said Jack. He let out his breath. "Whoof! Nice comeback. We'll see if it continues. But I think the other one, in green trunks, will win on points.

"Probably," said Pancho, "but I like purple trunks.

Jack's prediction was correct. Green trunks won by three points.

"Not much of a win," said Pancho. "Purple trunks is for sale, isn't it?"

"Yeah," said Jack. "All droids are tonight." His eyes widened and he found hope for his future in boxing. He glanced at his friend, three hours retired professional boxer, human heavyweight division. "What ya thinking, Macho?"

"Droids aren't cheap, but I've saved and made a lot of money. Wanta buy purple trunks and help me train it?"

Jack was silent, seeing not the stadium but opportunity. A slow grin spread across his face. "You got a partner, Pancho. The future of boxing."