SFSD-X Short Story Smackdown

1.3 A Honey of a Streamer

'Shot and disposed of' sounded terribly clean. You'd think they'd say something more like 'Splatter your brains, blood and bones for a kilometer across the ice with our cannon if you twitch in the wrong direction.' Because that would be more truthful.

"Uh...I have come for peaceful trade," I said to the group as they surrounded me. Peaceful trade was as good as being authorized. The droids didn't move. My armpits turned into murky puddles. Maybe I should throw in a bribe. "I have...eight kilos of frozen dodo gizzards to give as a gift."

"All trespassers are to be shot and disposed of unless they have authorization. State your name," the droid with the biggest gun said.

I would very much like to state for the record that at no time did I wet my pants, but it wouldn't be true.

"I come in peace—"

"Name 'I Come In Peace' not authorized. Elimination to proceed."

"Farrel Lloyd Barlington! My name is Farrel Lloyd Barlington! Make it quick, make it quick!" Panicking may or may not have ensued. I had no idea what I was doing at that point.

Whirs and metallic clicks chattered in the icy winds.

"Farrel Lloyd Barlington Make It Quick, please confirm official name."

I peered through one eye at the robots circling me. They had their guns trained on the sky. It gave me loads of confidence.

"Farrel Lloyd Barlington," I stated, giving my chin a good cant.

"You must come with us," the robot said and since the group turned in formation with me in the middle, I wasn't about to make a fuss.

****

The glass tank was just big enough for several liters of hot water and my naked body, but we had an understanding. It wouldn't make the water any hotter and I wouldn't accidently splash the control panel on the floor.

"You're sure this is necessary? I've never done anything like this before," I asked.

"Traditional cleansing ritual known as taking a bath is required for access to the underground town," an electronic male voice replied.

"Don't you have any dry wipes?" I could vaguely remember my mother chasing my brothers and me around with the scented tissues when for some reason she thought we were dirty.

"Negative. However, energy and water is fairly abundant, which makes this the optimal personal hygiene solution."

"Personal hygiene? Wait, did you say you have abundant water and energy?"

"Affirmative, in the forms of wind and ice."

That explained it. Except for how they transformed winds that would uproot any windmills or managed to melt ice in -60°C temperatures continued to be a mystery. Being underground might help, except that as far as I knew the ice blanket extended downwards for several kilometers.

"Would you enjoy some old-fashioned music while you apply the soap to your groin, armpits, feet and anywhere else that might smell unpleasant?" The water drained out.

"I don't smell unpleaszzz – did you say music?"

A light grew behind me and I twisted to look. A brown and gold machine with glowing buttons and tubes and a half-moon window was lit up from above and within. The word 'Wurlitzer' was proudly displayed on the front panel. A memory surfaced from watching my grandfather's museum files. Jukebox, a music player. My mouth watered thinking about how it would look in my collection.

"Choose a number from one to twenty-four."

How can you ask a man to choose only one? "Twelve," I said. The midway point.

"Excellent choice. Creedence Clearwater, Proud Mary."

Music piped from the old machine and a man sang about quitting his job to live on a river. Sounded like paradise to me.

Four songs and a shower rinse later, the droids were back, all thirty-five of them squeezing into the bathroom to watch me towel off.

"We will escort you now to the rendezvous point and the person you are to meet with."

"How about song number 22?" I asked. I was much too mellow to be ruffled by their guns and green eyes, so I toweled off slowly.

"Negative, your presence is requested."

"By who?"

"By Whom," the droid answered.

"Who's that?"

"Classified."

"So there are to be secrets between us?" I reached for my clothes (which might or might not have been heavily soiled.)

A droid smacked my hand and another gave me a bundle of cloth. Upon further inspection it turned out to be a loose kimono with big, pink flowers.

"Thanks. I think my grandmother had something just like it." I wrapped it around myself and tied the belt.

Next the droid gave me a holster with an antique firearm in steel and wood. I frowned at the droid, but it didn't register my facial expression.

"What is this?" I asked.

"An unloaded handgun from US Civil War I, specifically a Colt 1851 Navy Revolver. We are letting you wear it to feel more secure in your masculinity."

"How thoughtful of you. Especially after giving me the flowered robe to wear under it."

"The robe brings out your feminine side. And my light sensors confirm it complements the flush of your cheeks. Come with us."

****

A lemon tree in real life (as opposed to a holo-pic or my second rate imagination) is both smaller and more beautiful than I thought.

"Can I touch it?" I asked the droid.

"Negative, we must not disturb its bio-environment."

The tree was growing in a tank rather similar to my bathtub, but upside down. The inner walls were a bit steamy and streaked with green. There were seven genuine lemons ripening on the stubby branches. The right buyer would pay a small fortune for such a beauty. Fruit trees were practically non-existent since the El Nico climate re-reversal storms 200 years ago. But I would never sell it, if it were mine.

"I have 125 kg of frozen dodo meat and monetary credit of 458 Ringers, how about you and I make an arrangement?"

"Negative. My energy processors cannot convert dodo meat. Your presence is required inside this building."

I stepped around the tank and saw double doors on the far side of the underground hall we were in. A neon pink sign flashed on and off, drawing me closer. I squinted, sure my eyes were playing tricks on me.

For several flashes, I refused to believe what I was seeing. I walked closer until directly under the sign.

(Hot pink flash) Titties and Beer

Nothing.

(Hot pink flash) Titties and Beer

Screw the lemon tree, this place has Titties. And. Beer!! I threw open the doors and strode boldly in without waiting for the droid.

Two young women were lounging against a bar in a darkened room. I went all weak in the knees. Besides the women, for anyone interested (I wasn't) there were several tables with chairs and the bar seemed stocked with various sorts of bottled drinks I had never seen. But, honestly, the only things I really noticed were tight t-shirts on feminine forms, ponytails and big, big...smiles.