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Twenty years before Coppélia’s rescue, on a clear moonlit night, a young man was walking down a poorly lit alleyway, minding his own business, when his path was blocked by the silhouetted form of someone emerging from the shadows. In the light of the moon, the young man could make out the figure, not of a man but a boy – an adolescent probably no more than seventeen years old. The young man wasn’t afraid of the youth – he had never experienced fear in his four years of existence and had no concept of the emotion – but he was a little concerned that he may be late for work. He knew that he wouldn’t lose his job, even if he was late, but he didn’t like to let his employer down. His boss was a good person who treated the young man with respect – something that couldn’t be said for many of his work colleagues. He turned to walk away from the impending confrontation but found his escape route blocked by three more teenagers.
He turned back to face the first youth again.
“Excuse me, sir. I need to get past. I’ll be late for work.”
In front of him stood a scrawny beanpole of a lad, dressed in a dark brown tattered leather jacket that was at least two sizes too big for him, a black T-shirt with the emblem of the glam-death-rock band Kandy Krushers emblazoned across its front, a pair of gravity-defying stained denim jeans, and a string necklace threaded through several acrylic eyeballs. The boy made no effort to move out of the young man’s way but instead started swinging a toughened tungsten baseball bat – his constant companion – in his right hand, twirling it around like some sort of sadistic majorette baton twirler. Between swings, he would strike the bat against the palm of his left hand as if to confirm that it was solid enough for the job he had in mind.
One of his friends, similarly dressed but slightly younger and stockier, called out to his friend.
“Go on, Kolek. Sort it out. Sort it out good and proper.”
A malicious glint twinkled in the eye of the one called Kolek. He didn’t need to be urged on but enjoyed the admiration that came with it.
“Don’t worry, mate. It’ll be begging to be scrapped by the time I’m finished with it.”
Kolek knew his last remark wasn’t going to come true, but he enjoyed saying it anyway. He swaggered towards his target, swinging the bat in a choreographed fashion; like many a baseball player, he had a ritualistic set of manoeuvres that he liked to play out before the first strike.
The young man repeated his request.
“You’re blocking my way, sir. May I pass, please?”
The boy said nothing and just smiled at the bat pirouetting in his hands.
The youth’s target, a sophont, started to edge backwards. It didn’t want a confrontation but its retreat was still blocked by Kolek’s gang. The android was a little anxious but not to the point of panic – another emotion that was alien to it.
Kolek’s best friend, the stocky Niko, allowed the android to get closer and closer until he could be certain that the next orchestrated move would appear sufficiently spectacular. Ulrich and Tibor stood either side of Niko and hooked their arms under his armpits, before swinging him backwards to add momentum to the return swing and give the inevitable impact more force. Watching closely as the android backed towards him, Niko drew his knees up to his stomach just at the right time, ensuring that when he kicked out it would be with enough strength to knock the android significantly off balance.
The sophont came within range and Niko’s feet thudded into its back. The android’s nano-scale computers fought frantically to keep it upright but the machine had no option but to stagger ungainly in the direction of Kolek. A shout went up in unison from the four thugs.
“Strike One!”
Kolek was pleased – this was going well. The first strike was a move that he and his team had perfected and it seldom failed. As the android moved closer, Kolek raised the bat above his head and smashed it against his victim’s forehead with as much force as he could muster.
“Strike two!”
A new dent appeared in the bat, adding to war wounds suffered in previous assaults. It wouldn’t be long before Kolek would have to steal a new bat.
The sophont, already fighting to maintain its balance, was totally unprepared for this latest blow and dropped to its knees, a cue for his attackers to swarm over it and pin it to the ground. The android could have easily shrugged off his attackers, but this could have resulted in injury to the humans; the First Law of Robotics prohibited any robot from doing so.
Once he was certain that the android was fully subdued, Kolek stood up, leaving his three accomplices holding it down. Although not a particularly tall individual, he now towered over his captive.
“Take a good look at me, sophont. I’m the last thing you’ll see for a long time. You’ll have nightmares about this night.”
The android had never had a nightmare and never would. This particular threat was empty.
The youth bent down further and grabbed the sophont’s hair, pulling its head up off the ground. Taking a specially fashioned implement out of his jacket pocket, he forced the bowl part of the tool deep into the android’s right-hand eye-socket, behind the eyeball. Then he drew the sharpened edge of the bowl across the rear of the eyeball a few centimetres in order to physically sever the optic comms system. He was a master of his art and in no time was scooping the now unsecured orb out of its cavity. He tossed the eyeball onto the ground nearby before meting out the same treatment to the sophont’s left eye.
Once the android was blinded, the attackers released their victim, stood up, and stepped back a few paces, finally allowing it to struggle to its feet. This was the best part of the game for them.
Robbed of its sight, the disorientated android careered around the alley, arms outstretched, tripping over the abandoned refuse that straddled the pathway, falling, picking itself up again, only to repeat the exercise as more obstacles were thrown into his path. Niko picked up an abandoned length of cable and threw it directly in front of the sophont, laughing as its feet became entangled and it crashed headfirst to the floor once again.
Kolek picked up his trophies – the android’s acrylic eyeballs – and juggled them between his hands.
“Shit, guys. This is too easy.”
Niko had no problem with that.
“So?”
Kolek was missing the excitement of danger.
“I mean, beating up a sophont’s not as much fun as it used to be. It’d be much better if they fought back once in a while. This is like taking candy from a baby. Too piss easy.”
Suddenly, his complaining was interrupted by an unseen hand that grabbed hold of his neck from behind. A voice spoke softly into his right ear.
“You mean like this?”
Kolek turned his head as best he could to get a look at his assailant but the grip on his neck was so tight that he was unable to little more than look straight ahead. Finally, the grip loosened just enough to allow him to catch a glimpse of his captor.
The man restraining him didn’t look to be anything special and Kolek still fancied his chances of getting away. The gang had a numeric advantage – the disabled sophont didn’t count, as its programming prohibited it from resisting. After a few more seconds of discomfort, Kolek was relieved to feel the man’s grip soften even more and let go of his neck completely. The youth scuttled back to his friends.
Kolek nodded at his accomplices to show them that he wasn’t hurt and then fixed the stranger with what he felt to be his most menacing stare.
“You’re outnumbered here, pal. I’d be on your way if I were you. If you don’t want to get hurt, that is. Four to one – them’s good odds.”
Niko had to chip in with his two cents’worth.
“Yeah, mate. Piss off now and we’ll forget we ever saw you. No harm done. Do yourself a favour.”
The man looked at the group of adolescent misfits.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
Kolek curled his lip and sneered at the man.
“Maybe you’re some kind of metalhead lover. Is this your sex-bot?”
He pointed at the stricken android who had decided that standing still was the best way to deal with its current situation.
“Like a bit of metal dick, do you?”
His three friends laughed but the stranger ignored the insult.
With his friends backing him up, Kolek was overflowing with bravado. Sure, the stranger looked older than him but he reckoned four teenagers were more of a match for one twenty-something. He nodded at Niko and the pair of them rushed as one at the man, who was totally unconcerned at the sudden two-pronged attack.
The stranger side-stepped Niko easily, punched him in the stomach with his right fist and simultaneously grabbed Kolek with his other hand, lifting him off his feet. The teenager’s legs flapped around frantically in thin air before the man effortlessly lobbed him a full ten metres down the alley. Ulrich and Tibor were transfixed, blinking in disbelief – no way were they going to mess with this guy.
The stranger walked over to the blinded android, took him by the arm, and the pair started to walk towards the end of the alley. They had to pass Kolek but the youth knew when he was beaten and stayed on the ground where it was safer. As the two passed him, Kolek looked up at the android’s rescuer.
“Who the fuck are you, mate?”
The stranger paused momentarily and let his eyes scan the rest of the gang before glaring directly into Kolek’s eyes.
“I am the metalhead you’ll never forget.”