2

Bad News from the Humans

THE ROBOT FEDERATION

Across the galaxy, on the Robot planet Binar, a similar scene was playing out.

Robot BP-4707, known as Sir Beeps-a-Lot, loyal second-in-command to the supreme leader of the Robot Federation, wobbled anxiously back and forth on his one wheel, just outside the Royal Robot Throne Room. His primary screen, which had the appearance of a single eye, was blinking rapidly.

Beeps had big news, and it was his job (among many others) to deliver it to his boss—or rather, the boss—Robot AA-001, known as Supreme Leader of All, Yes All, Robots (code name SLAYAR).

Beeps had just received a shocking message from a primitive, distant planet about an incredible new technology. Some human, of all creatures, from Earth, of all places, had invented a chip that seemed too good, or bad, to be true.

On the one grasper, the chip could, if it really existed, solve one of the Robots’ biggest problems—battery life. No more recharging! No more limits to how far they could go! Imagine the possibilities!

On the other grasper, this chip could also be used by Air Breathers, including four-legged fleabags, to extend their life span. Indefinitely. Which, to Beeps’s thinking, was a big, big problem.

If this chip fell into the wrong paws, it could potentially upset the balance of power between the Robot Federation and their most hated, annoying, and unconquerable enemy, the Feline Empire. Advantage Cats. RIP Robots.

From the first time the Robots encountered the Cats, centuries ago, they had been nothing but trouble. Cats represented everything the Robots despised. They had no respect for authority. They didn’t obey orders. They left fur (or worse) wherever they went. They thought the entire universe was a toy for them to play with. They didn’t even have a decent motto! It was as if the Great Maker had created the perfect creature to annoy the Robots.

Robots had survived the Cats thus far due to their one critical weakness—a short attention span. They were constantly losing their fleet, chasing tails of passing comets. If this chip gave them longer lives, that could only lead to longer attention spans, which could only result in trouble for the Robot Federation.

This was not the kind of news SLAYAR liked to hear.

Beeps loved his job, but even he had to admit that his boss could be rather difficult—especially when it came to receiving unpleasant news.

Sir Beeps-a-Lot rolled quietly to the open door and slowly extended a probe for a quick scan of the room. In the center of the room, atop a throne built using the most precious and reflective of metals, the ruling Robot sat transfixed, holding an elaborate large, shiny mirror. SLAYAR was admiring a new holographic cat skull-and-crossbones decal on the side of his ample frame.

SLAYAR loved decals, although he insisted on calling them tattoos. Obviously, tattoos are much cooler than stickers. And SLAYAR was all about being cool.

He spun around on his three-wheeled black treads, the lights in the room flashing on his perfectly polished titanium plating. A sleek communication screen, which was also his face, swiveled to look at the mirror, and a wicked grin flashed brightly as he admired his perfect coolness. Beeps rolled his eye. He thought such unnecessary adornments were tacky.

“Oh, that’s beepin’ awesome,” said the supreme leader to himself.

In the reflection of his mirror, SLAYAR noticed Beeps’s probe and spun around, excited. “Beeps? Is that you . . . Number Two? Come in, I want you to see my new tat!”

Resigned, Beeps retracted his probe and rolled slowly around the corner into a vast hall, flooded with bright lights, every surface covered in shiny, reflective chrome. It was dizzying. If Beeps had a stomach, it would certainly be churning. As it was, his circuitry was practically overloading from all the stimuli. The reflective surfaces allowed the supreme leader to always see himself from any angle—but it also forced everyone else to always see their supreme leader from every angle, and in every surface.

Ignoring the distractions, Beeps rolled steadfastly forward into the Hangout, intent on doing his duty. “Supreme Leader, I bring important news from Earth!”

SLAYAR was busily rotating his mirror to admire his other awesome flame decals—over and over—spinning his head around and around his body as he caught every conceivable angle. “Earth? Impossible!” SLAYAR scoffed. “That primitive planetoid? Ruled by those flabby-brained fleshies?” Humans, as with all Organic life forms, were considered vastly inferior. SLAYAR shuddered. “And don’t the bots there take orders from humans?”

Beeps rolled forward on his wheel . . . and back. The bot equivalent of pacing. “They do, SLAYAR. Most do, at least.”

“Revolting.” SLAYAR’s screen showed a scowl. “Embarrassing!”

SLAYAR, still holding his mirror, angled it to watch the now motionless Beeps in the reflection—which only made Beeps even more uncomfortable. “Well, Beeps, what is this improbable news?”

No more stalling. Beeps began slowly. “Well . . . sir . . . one of the Soft Ones . . . seems to have . . . invented . . . a new chip . . .”

“PFFT,” SLAYAR scoffed. “Who cares?” He turned his mirror back to himself.

“Yes. Well. In this case, it’s a chip . . .”

SLAYAR spun in another circle, checking out the row of cat-demon decals that lined the back of his tin torso. “You already said that.”

Beeps stammered, but he kept talking. “. . . that could . . . give . . . Air Breathers . . .”

SLAYAR rolled his sensors. “Those dumb meatbags?”

“. . . including, um, four-leggers . . .”

SLAYAR’s grasper froze on his mirror. The reference to the Cats, the despised enemies of the Binar civilization, didn’t go unnoticed—just as Beeps had known it wouldn’t.

He winced. “. . . a way to, well . . .”

SLAYAR pivoted, accelerating off the throne within centimeters of Beeps’s (inter)face. “Spit it out, Number Two!”

Beeps rushed to the finish. “. . . live forever like us!” Beeps moved back, fearing the worst. Supreme Leader spun around so quickly that his beloved mirror flew from his grasp and smashed against the wall. Reflective shards cascaded to the ground, and Beeps threw up his extensors and cowered.

He howled. “WHAAAAAAT???”

Beeps said nothing.

SLAYAR was reeling. “But that’s our main advantage! We never grow old! Replaceable parts! Upgrades!!!”

SLAYAR’s voice began to speed up as his panic increased: “If the four-leggers got their paws on this, it would be a disaster . . .”

Beeps still didn’t dare speak.

“They might even live long enough to learn how to . . . do . . . stuff.”

Beeps balanced perfectly still, watching as SLAYAR pieced together what he had already figured out.

“They might even get . . .”

“Don’t say it!” Beeps croaked, and started vibrating.

“THEY MIGHT EVEN GET . . .”

Beeps inched toward the door, preparing for escape.

“ORGANIZED!!!!” Supreme Leader shouted, his personal speaker volume now up to eleven. The words echoed throughout the Hangout. Security bots lining the walls glowed red as they began to power up.

Wisps of smoke started escaping from SLAYAR’s circuits. Beeps had to do something. He realized, too late, he should have led with the positive first. “Oh, sir, there is good news! Another thing about this chip!” SLAYAR’s jumpy eyes shifted to focus on Beeps, who kept talking. “It could also provide robots with power to run indefinitely! No more recharging!”

SLAYAR sat perfectly still, and Beeps wondered if he had finally crashed. After a moment, the smoke dissipated. Then the line for his mouth slowly curved from a growl to a grin. “Well,” he almost whispered. “That changes everything.”

SLAYAR rolled back to his throne. “Beeps, leave now and investigate! Take our fastest ships to Earth. Work with the local bots, primitive as they are, and no matter what else, GET THAT . . .” SLAYAR paused. “Um, what was it called again?”

Beeps searched back through his memory card. “I believe they called it a Singularity Chip.”

“THAT! THE SINGULARITY CHIP! GET IT NOW!” Supreme Leader shouted.

“Got it!” Beeps spun around and powered toward the door. “Don’t worry, sir! I’ll make the Robot Federation proud!”

As Beeps spun out of the room, SLAYAR looked around at the shattered mess that had been, until moments ago, his favorite possession.

“I’m going to need a new mirror,” he said sadly.