Five Million Miles Part 1

A Story by Reddog19

"Love. Joy. Peace.

These three words are what we use to describe the New World Center." said the voice from the podium. A tall dark-haired man with eyes like the brightest sapphire flames smiled at the rolling sea of faces leading past the New World Center. The baby blue sky was cloudless as the man continued, "In this year of 2032, we strive for world stability and for each and every one of you to affect the world in your own special ways. That is why I am running for Director of the New World Center. If you vote for me, I promise to get oil prices spiking down, to stop the war in the Sahara, and get our cities up to code in the defense department."

The crowd below erupted in beeps and scratching metal sounds.

"I also promise to make our planet healthier. Healthier than it has ever been!"

Again, the crowd roared out in noises. The man bowed, waved and walked back into the monstrous white house. Gold inlay trimmed the room, an oil painting of robot anatomy hung above the feather bed in the corner.

The man sighed and sat down heavily at a large oaken desk. He took out a pencil and pad of paper, then began to draw precisely the exact dimensions and specifics of the painting hanging above his bed without once looking at it. After he was finished, he crumpled the sketch up and threw it onto a pile of other scraps of paper.

He arose and, fishing into his pocket, brought out a lighter. He grabbed an ivory pipe from his desk corner and lit it with a puff. He undressed and put on his plaid bathrobe. The man exited the room through white steel double doors, only to be greeted by an assembly line of robots intensely working over a magnifying glass. The shiny shoulders of the steel bodies stood out from the old dull iron workstations. One robot, shinier and much larger than the rest, stood on a platform above the workers, keeping watch. When the man walked into view, it turned and walked over.

"Good evening, Mr. Mallory." it said in a choppy, but rather smooth tenor. "The assembly line has increased product to 500,000 robot troopers an hour."

Mr. Mallory grinned wickedly. "Good. Tomorrow, we shall take the rebels by surprise. They cannot fight an army of 3 million troopers! The Sahara shall be mine!" He cackled as the robot nodded in response.

"Three to be Free!" The robot hailed to Mallory. It raised its arm in salute, then returned to its post. Mallory smirked and walked down the catwalk that was forty yards above the assembly.

"Democracy..." He chuckled. "These robots know nothing. They have no choice but to defend me, the last pure human. They think they get to be whoever they want. Imbeciles! They do not know I control them. But more power to me. Literally." He smiled at his own joke and walked to the dining room.

Before him lay a grand feast. Two robots stood by the one chair at the head of the table and another stood behind the chair. Mallory strolled to the chair. As he approached, the robot behind the chair pulled it back, then pushed it in as Mallory sat down. A smaller robot rolled in with a violin and began to softly play Mozart as the robot to the left of Mallory poured a glass of red wine in a crystal goblet. The robot on the right took Mallory's plate and served him a heavily-portioned dinner from the array of colorful choices at the feast.

Mallory ate to the sound of violin and the quiet tinkering of robots outside the glass wall that showed him the assembly lines below. As his white plate became clean, he stood up and, without any hesitation, shot the four robots that had served him. Straight-faced, he walked out and into the streets.

Outside of the glass doors, the stone streets of the city stretched in front of Mallory like an urban forest path. Skyscrapers ripped apart the golden sky, the clouds' virginity taken away by unmanned drone fighter planes screeching across, speeding away to fight the war in the Sahara.