Random Story :
Ghostless Machines
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer The new group are wide-eyed. It’s …
Bug
Author: Starlight
“But its so gross down there, Dad,” complained Ziggy with an exaggerated pout on her face.
“I’m sure Arcturus doesn’t mind,” I replied, my tone sounding less reassuring and more irritated than I wanted it to be. Shatter was going to be on in less than half an hour and Ziggy wasn’t even in her pyjamas yet. I just wanted to put this argument to bed so that I could put my daughter to bed so that I could watch my crime drama in peace.
“You don’t know that” she said, crossing her arms in defiance. “I went down there last week, and its full of mould and bugs and it smells gross.”
“Arcturus can’t smell, love. And I’ve told you a hundred times you’re not to go into the basement.”
“Why can’t he just stay in my room?” she whined.
Resisting the urge to drag my hands down my face, I leaned forward and clasped my daughter’s shoulders.
“Listen, honey,” I said, my voice slow and deliberate. “Arcturus is a machine. It’s not a pet – it’s more like our dishwasher, or our vacuum cleaner. You wouldn’t be so upset about our vacuum cleaner being kept in the basement, would you?”
Ziggy shuffled uncertainly, unsure what to do with the blow to her self-righteousness. “Umm… not really…”
“It doesn’t have feelings. I promise you, it doesn’t mind being kept down there. Now will you please go and get ready for bed?”
My daughter hesitated. Then, to my relief, she nodded.
“Ok…”
She ran off up the stairs, and I was so glad to see her go that I didn’t even chastise her for running.
One hour later, slumped comfortably on the sofa whilst watching Melanie Hertwell deliver her best performance yet, I heard the slow, rhythmic thud of our security unit stomping up the stairs. Arcturus had a twelve-hour shift from 8:30 to 8:30. In the meantime, I stored the thing in the basement – it was too large and unwieldly to go anywhere else. Like always, it was going to leave through the backdoor and perform its pointless patrol. I tuned out its footsteps and tuned back in to my show.
Only then I heard a thud.
That wasn’t right. Had Arcturus fallen? It had never done so before – wasn’t even supposed to be capable of it. The advertising for the robot had boasted a state-of-the-art navigation system.
I hesitated, wondering if I should go to help despite knowing there was no way I was lifting that thing, only to hear it getting itself back up. The footsteps restarted – growing closer. Why where they getting closer?
It stepped into the room, this huge and vaguely humanoid thing, pushing seven foot and matte black like a gun. Its head scraped against the doorframe as it entered, twitching spastically. I paused my show.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Arcturus’ head snapped to face mine, its optics glowing yellow. I’d only seen that colour once before – when it had mistaken a rabbit for an intruder. Split the poor blighter’s neck.
As it stepped closer, sparks shot out from its joints and these little black things started falling from its seams. Bolts? – no, bugs. Cockroaches, centipedes, spiders, crawling out of its moving body, fleeing their nests they had built in the dark haven of the robot’s cavities. Nests built of chewed wire…
A cold hand encircled my neck, and it all went black before I even heard the