The World's Calling

The agreement was simple. They would get an on-record interview, as long as things were even. Harris got to bring a man in, and Rhys would stand outside with the rest while the interview went down. No weapons, no resistance. Just an interview. Shoa however, felt that this was an absolutely idiotic idea. He was not a fighter and even with his… updates - which he wouldn’t necessarily call weapons so no promises were broken- such an idea of giving this man room to do what he does seemed unwise. But all he could do was sit there in a church room with the eyes of some man on a cross looking down on him. Paintings of younger humans lined the walls as he set himself to do his duty. The radio he had installed helped with mic quality at least.

….

“Better than the alternative,” he mused.

….

As both people sat on the ends of their respective tables, Shoa was sitting in the middle. Far away from the middle which he preferred. The unidentified man behind Harris was built, subtly so. His clothes seemed to not fit right at the ends and uneven stitching seemed to tar his wearings. His glasses were also of an odd sort. Nothing that pointed to a lack of functionality, but the craftsmanship in his small circle glasses was certainly not one of Mechanoid mass production. No matter the puzzling source of the man’s garments, there were bigger things at hand and Lucia was about to begin. Shoa made sure he captured all of it.

“My name is Lucia Ensign. I was sent on behalf of the Notary to undergo an investigation regarding the Hickshaw Massacre. Along with my associate Rhys Madris and the current recorder Shoa, I came to investigate the potential of the Vegas Brigade being involved with Hickshaw. Of the three persons of interest I could identify, only one would agree to be interviewed for the record. Please state your name and occupation.”

“Harris Malaki. A bit of preaching and assisting where I can.”

“Do you know why you’ve been requested for this interview?”

“Well, it seems you and your Union pals think I have something to do with Hickshaw. Kind of a horrid assumption-”

“Do you consent to this interview on your own recognizance and with no urgings of anyone else?”

That same slow and sweet accent answered her. “Well other than your co-worker’s unsubtle jabs towards me, I can’t say I frankly do.” Harris pulled up his chair to sit a little straighter. “Hey, Lucia. For old times' sake, let’s skip the stuff that usually happens. The questions about my family, my own set of brethren, cause we both know that you won’t hear a peep from me about it. Stamos, you gonna say a thing about it?”

A quick flash of the teeth and a shake of the head answered him.

“Well, it seems that the side of that won’t be necessary. So let’s get to the point. You don’t mean to come here as some sort of familial visit. Your church days are long behind you.”

Lucia’s face remained without a hint of emotion.

“To get some facts clear, No one who fraternizes with me had anything to do with Hickshaw. If they wanted to deal with them in their hours, I ain’t got no problem with it. Though that’s only me personally.”

Lucia's face remained stone cold.

“Where were you in the past 7 days of the Hickshaw Massacre?”

“Well, I was at home for most of the day helping with some touch-ups on my porch. It's harder than you think to get a good finish naturally.”

“Can you speak on the whereabouts of your associates around the period?”

“Lady, I don’t know what my child gets up to in school for most of the day; you can’t ask me about all the people I meet on my own time. We’d spend all day on just the first two hours.”

“What are your thoughts on the Hickshaw Massacre?”

“Not the way it should’ve gone but it was bound to happen. Even the tamest dog tends to bite, even if they look friendly.” Harris rolled his neck. “Fancy talk aside, let’s get something straight. Whatever issues we have with these things. Robots, Animals, and the bucket of goop we scrape off our shoes. We don’t fuck with people. Maybe one of your more magically inclined woofers had the idea that he wasn’t gonna take it anymore. Not the first time it- ”

“Thank you for your contribution. If you have anything else applicable to the situation to add, please speak now.”

“Oh, sure.” Harris looked straight at Shoa. “This is your camera, right? To your dear, dear Notary. I just want whoever you are to show yourself. Really show yourself. Show your people a little trust. Some accountability. Faith is only for Lord above after all.”

As soon as he finished with his input, he went right back to Lucia.

“Why are you and your Union pals so fond of these things anyway? Any good man with a typewriter and a will to travel could do what he does.”

“Ease of access and Union reg-”

“Oh Union regulations this, Union regs that. C’mon Lucy. Talk to me like a person and not some long arm of the law.”

“We aren’t the law.”

“Oh, sure. Cept you got the badges. And the Power. And the Resources.”

“And you can discuss your issues with the Union with the proper agency., The purpose of this interview comes first.”

“Sure.” Another bright smile. “ Let’s get it done.”

Shoa had to sit there. In a dank room provided by a church. While a man with a fake shine in his eye denied any involvement in the circumstances regarding Hickshaw. All the while plugging in cheap shots at the Notary underneath his smooth tone. It was unbearable to sit through as the personal recorder. Not to mention the few moments where a low buzzing interrupted his thought process. As the both of them seemed to grow ever wearier of this line of conversation, Harris was the one to stray off the path.

“You know, you can’t keep falling back on me like this Lucia. A married traditional man consorting with the Union-”

“You have been putting on that front. All. Day.” Each word was firm and sharp as she stared dead into the eyes of her subject. “This wasn’t for old times, this wasn’t for me agreeing with your dreams or whatever you have in your head. You’re a middle manager for your idiotic organization and until your leader shows back from whatever garbage pile he’s dug himself in; you’re the only one to represent these people. If the Union needs to contact you for anything else, stay put.”

“Sure, sure. Though I assume if I need anything from you -”

Before Harris’s question even fully escaped his mouth, Lucia was already out of the side room and hustling on towards her car.

“Breath in. Get excited. Let it move through you.”

As Rhys sat beside the car doing her exercises, her hands held a rock. Firm and a bit jagged. She imagined the energy flowing through into each of her fingers as she tightened her grip around the rock, she could just feel… a rock. No matter how much she finagled around with the stone, no one action would make it break in two or become dust in the wind as Vig did. Yet as she moved the stone around in her palm, she could feel the slightest resistance on the top of her palm. As she opened her hand, the rock seemed mostly unaffected, changed only by the scratch on the top of it.

“Hell yeah!”

“What’s got you all excited?”

“Gonna be turning my arms harder than rock anytime soon. My hands are already sharper than stone.”

“ Guess you weren’t lying about the magic interest then.”

“Trained by Vig himself.”

“I trust you. You want a drink?”

“Whatcha got?”

“Nothing exciting.” Lucia threw a bottle of something yellow at Rhys. “Where’s Shoa by the way?”

“Robo said he was going for a walk. I offered to go with him but he ‘finds my company distracting’ or whatever.”

Lucia shrugged as she sipped her drink. “He isn’t wrong.”

Rhys simply yet jokingly fired back. “Fuck off, Boss.”

On the edge of town came a multitude of sights.

It didn’t do much for him but there was a sense of accomplishment to be found in scanning all the things around him. The type of wood made to build the houses, the wild grass outside the gate, even the history of water which surprisingly had a lot more warfare and poisonings involving river rights than should be possible. There was just something about seeing the world for himself and not cooped up in a test base that filled him with a type of joy. Maybe today wasn’t the

CLANG!

“Well, looks like I got him, boys!”

“Ughh.” Judging by the fact that his head had just made an imprint on the ground and his screen telling him about an impact in the back of his head, he had been assaulted. Truly it was his fault for assuming anything could be good in this world.

“Lookie here, kids. This right here is a Robot. A soulless thing that Union types like to send instead of people to make their work easier.”

Shoa tried to push himself up but found himself grounded by the weight of something on his back.

“They can make you as shiny as all you want, you still need us to do your dirty work.”

Clang!

“But you got us begging for your medicine.

Clang!

“Got us paying for the privilege to see!”

CLANG!

“Paying an arm and leg for basics while you got one of yours running things up top. Changing the goalposts and the meaning of history. Well, it's time for you to pay it back.”

Shoa’s head was raised as he felt his arm bend in a way that everything inside him was screaming at him about how unnatural it was.

“C’mon, Marty! Rip that shit off!”

Marty was trying and Shoa’s systems confirmed as much. While Shoa was durable, he was not durable enough to sustain this and the clanging of what he presumed to be pipes banging on him. Everything was yelling at him to do something.

So he flexed his arm.