Author: Hillary Lyon

After three lonely weeks of bountiful mining in the shadow of the Red Cliffs, Tyros packed up his tools and trekked into town. First he’d visit Akadian Assayers to get his reward in hard earned credits, then he’d hit Bossman’s Saloon and Travel Agency for a well-earned drink and ticket to travel home.

The Assayers had a reputation for being fair, and Tyros was not disappointed in his recompense.

The watered-down drinks at Bossman’s were a bit gouge-y, everyone warned, and the Travel Agency was nothing more than a single kiosk set up in the center of the saloon. Tickets dispersed were sometimes stamped with incorrect dates, so beware.

Tyros was cognizant of all this when he entered Bossman’s Saloon and Travel Agency. He walked to the kiosk, wanting get this business out of the way before he relaxed with a drink.
Tyros tapped in the details for his travel ticket. He inserted his credit slip. “When I get back to Earth,” he mused aloud, “I’ll have plenty of credits left over to treat Trina to a fancy dinner and a night at the holo-theater.”

But the travel ticket didn’t appear, nor were his credits refunded. The kiosk was unresponsive to Tyros’ increasingly angry button pushing.

Frustrated, Tyros slapped the side of the kiosk and shouted, “You thieving hunk of junk!” The kiosk went dark.

The bartender bot, B’Golly, rolled over. “What’s all this commotion?”

In answer, Tyros raised his hand to hit it again. With his metal claw, B’Golly grabbed Tyros’ wrist, then scanned his palm for identification.

“Everyone out!” B’Golly commanded. The weary few miners downed their drinks and left.

Returning his attention to Tyros, B’Golly stated, “According to local law, since you damaged this kiosk, you must pay for a replacement.” B’Golly then dragged Tyros over to the front door and unceremoniously threw him out into the street.

“Come back when you can pay your debt.” B’Golly said as he hit a button beside the door, lowering the impenetrable security shutter.

B’Golly could barely hear the insults Tyros threw in his direction. Eventually Tyros was out of curses, and began the long slog back to his camp.

Hooking himself up to the dormant kiosk, B’Golly invigorated the machine. It’s lights flashed; it shivered and began to hum. Before detaching, B’Golly skimmed a few credits to add to his secret account. Over the years he’d built up a nice stash, for a ‘rainy day’ as humans say.

B’Golly rolled back behind the bar and patched directly into the Bossman’s line. “The productive and diligent miner Tyros is on his way back to work his claim, to pay for a replacement kiosk.”

“Excellent!” Bossman’s voice crackled over the speaker. “Everything here has a price, and I’m gonna to make a fortune offa this guy. You reset the kiosk?”

“It’s up and running.”

“This was a fine plan you concocted, B’Golly. You know, for an outmoded bot, you still do some good work.” The Bossman added with a chuckle, “Sometimes.” With a click, the conversation was over.

In that single comment, B’Golly understood Bossman was already considering his replacement. Which meant it was either the cannibalization factory or the scrap-yard for him.

Standing in the quiet dark of the saloon, B’Golly began calculations. Like slaves in ancient Rome, here a bot could buy its freedom—for a price. In a flash, he worked out how many credits he’d need. He had more than enough in his stash. If he’d had a face, he would’ve smiled.