“Tell me about it”, said Brad. “I warned you Hacker was going to be trouble.”
Marty nodded glumly. Yes, Brad had warned him. Everyone had warned him. Booze and killer robots, it was a recipe for disaster. But he hadn’t listened. He was so thrilled at getting such a classy Shakespearian actor on the show, so eager to believe Hacker’s promises that he was a reformed character and hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol for two years, that he had ignored the fact that Hacker had a reputation for being demanding and difficult to handle on set. Not to mention a colourful and very public thirty year battle with the bottle.
Brad saw Marty’s troubled face and gripped his shoulder reassuringly. “It’s okay, Marty, we’re just a few hours behind schedule, that’s all. We’ll make the time back.” He turned towards the roboticists congregated on the beach with their crated robots. “I’ll take care of the competitors and see you in the fortress, yeah?”
Marty nodded morosely.
“Everything’s gonna be great”, Brad assured him. He patted Marty’s shoulder again then left.
Marty looked after Brad anxiously, hoping he was right. Destroy All Robots had been his baby for over five years, ever since he’d first taken the proposal to the networks. They had turned him down flat of course, saying it was prohibitively expensive, but Marty had a hunch the show was going to be a winner and decided to bankroll it himself. He knew he wasn’t a particularly smart man but he prided himself on his ability to be tuned into what ‘the man on the street’ was thinking. That, plus a willingness to take a gamble was what had made Marty Shultz Productions one of the most successful independent television companies in the world. Marty knew he’d have to work quickly and get the show on the air before a rival production company came up with a similar idea. Timing was everything and you didn’t need a crystal ball to see that the public’s love affair with robots was well and truly over.
And people had loved robots at first, of course they had. He remembered back in 2025 when the first domestic models were introduced how excited everyone was. No more vacuuming, no more ironing, no more doing the dishes. But then the more specialized robots started appearing, robot surgeons, robot traffic wardens, robot police officers, at first assisting their human counterparts, then quickly replacing them. It was when they started losing their jobs that people first had the inkling that robots might not be such a great idea after all.
Slowly but surely public opinion started to turn against robots. Trade union groups began petitioning the government, demanding robots should be banned. Unemployed workers took to the streets, picketing outside robot manufacturing plants. Newspapers started using the word robophobia in their editorials, describing people’s irrational hatred of robots. Though of course it wasn’t irrational as far as Marty could see. When you took a man’s job away from him, his ability to feed and clothe his family, that man was going to get angry.
It was only after the public started taking out their aggression directly onto robots that Marty knew he was onto a winner. If people wanted to see robots get smashed up, they’d clearly lap it up as entertainment, a service he would happily provide.
The format of the show was simplicity itself. The Toymaker was the pantomime baddie, a robot-loving supervillain who was hidden away in his secret base somewhere on the island. The competitors’ task was to track him down and capture him. However the Toymaker was protected by scores of ultra-aggressive robots and so each team had to create a fighting robot that was capable of defeating them. The team that managed to do this and capture the Toymaker won the $10 million. Really the whole show was an excuse to have as many robots trashed on screen as possible. People wanted to see robots being beaten, burned, bashed up, smashed up and blown up? He’d give it to ’em!
Marty’s confidence slightly bolstered, he reapplied his grin and prepared to meet the competitors.
CHAPTER SIX
ON THE BEACH
After the adrenaline rush of the battle, the atmosphere on the beach was decidedly subdued. The actors playing the Marines were huddled in little groups, smoking and gossiping. Teams of production assistants, dressed in identical Destroy All Robots polo shirts and baseball caps were on clean-up duty, working their way down the floodlit beach, clearing up shrapnel and debris from blown-up robots. More production assistants, supervised by Brad, were escorting the competitors and their robots to the fortress.
Caitlin and Toby stood by their robot crate, waiting to be collected. Caitlin yawned, suddenly feeling very tired. She tried to calculate how long it had been since she’d last slept then quickly gave up. She had travelled across so many different time zones getting to the island, she had given up resetting her watch. It had been a gruelling journey, first the flight from London to Los Angeles, then the voyage itself, a rough, stomach-churning affair stretching from the North Pacific Ocean to the South China Sea before finally reaching their destination, an island 50 kilometres from the coast of Borneo. Brad had advised all the contestants to snatch whatever sleep they could on the ship as there would be no chance once they reached the island. But Caitlin was too apprehensive to sleep, worrying about the next three days.
A nearby production assistant stooped to pick up a dismembered Sniper Robot limb, and Caitlin felt a wave of unreality sweep over her. Suddenly she felt a long way from home. She had travelled abroad without her parents before but she had been always been accompanied by adults she knew, either teachers on school trips, or trainers when she had toured with the karate team. She wondered if her mum and dad had discovered yet that she wasn’t travelling with Toby and his mother to Ibiza like she had told them. All it took was one phone call to Toby’s mother. She didn’t like deceiving her parents, but she knew they would never have allowed her to come to the island on her own. And it was important that she accompanied Toby. More important than they would ever know.
“You okay?” Toby asked and Caitlin jolted guiltily.
“Just tired, I guess.” She glanced down the beach and saw that the gossiping actors and the rest of the competitors had now gone. Apart from the production assistants on clean-up duty the beach was deserted. “So what happens now?” she asked. “Do you think they’ve forgotten about us?”
Toby saw a figure hurrying towards them from the palm tree terrace. “Here comes someone now”, he said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JOURNEY TO THE FORTRESS
Marty approached Toby and Caitlin, his beaming smile magically erasing all traces of worry from his face. “Toby Badernoch?” he said, grasping Toby’s hand and pumping it enthusiastically. “Marty Shultz. It’s an honour having a roboticist of such tender years on the show.”
Toby smiled, a little overwhelmed by Marty’s exuberance. “Er, thanks, Mr Shultz.”
“Marty, please.”
“Thanks, Marty.”
Marty and Toby beamed at each other and Caitlin cleared her throat meaningfully. Marty glanced at her as if seeing her for the first time then winked at Toby. “Say, nice touch bringing along the babe as your glamorous assistant. The fans love that sort of thing.”
Toby looked at Caitlin, trying not to laugh. “For your information, Mr Shultz”, she said through gritted teeth, ‘the babe’ isn’t his assistant, glamorous or otherwise.”
Marty gave Caitlin a surprised look, unused to being answered back. “No? What are you then?”
Toby saw the dangerous glint in Caitlin’s eye and quickly intervened. “Reigning under-16’s British karate champion, for one thing”, he said.
Marty picked up the warning tone in Toby’s voice. “Karate champion, eh?” he said. “Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Katy.”
“Caitlin”, she growled.
“Caitlin”, Marty corrected, dodging around the other side of Toby. He glanced at his watch and pulled a face. “Come on, let’s get you guys to the fortress.”
“What about my robot?” asked Toby.
Marty whistled over a couple of production assistants and pointed at the robot crate nestled
in the sand. He started striding along the beach and Toby and Caitlin followed, hurrying to keep up.
They passed more production assistants who were still bagging up robot parts and depositing them in a pile under the palm trees. “That was quite a welcome party you threw for us”, said Toby, glancing at the dismembered robots.
“You think that was something, just wait and see what we’ve got in store for you in the jungle”, said Marty.
“How did you arrange it all so no one got hurt?” asked Caitlin.
“The whole thing’s coordinated by the Show-Runner, that’s our robot director”, said Marty. “All the actors get directions via their helmets telling them exactly where they should be at any given moment. And the Show-Runner controls the Toymaker’s robots as well so it all meshes seamlessly.”
Toby stooped as he passed the mound of destroyed robots and picked up a decapitated Sniper Robot head. He tilted the neck towards him, trying to peer at the circuitry inside. He turned back to Marty. “Tell me, Mr Shultz, who makes your robots for you?”
Marty smiled evasively. “Marty please”, he said, not answering Toby’s question. He started walking again and Toby quickly secreted the robot head into his backpack. He hurried to join Marty who was now heading through the palm tree terrace towards the fortress.
Marty caught Toby’s eye and gave him a friendly grin. “I’m not kidding, it’s great having you here, Toby. You have no idea how hard it’s been trying to get one of you cyber-prosthetic guys onboard.”
Toby nodded slowly, feeling a twinge of guilt. He knew it was no accident that that no one else in the industry was willing to appear on the show. Toby’s mother, England’s leading cyber-prostheticist had been approached by the Destroy All Robots’ production office dozens of times. So had the rest of the team who worked at her clinic. Dr Freya Badernoch had made it very clear that anyone tempted by the $10-million prize money would find themselves out of a job on returning from the island. Toby knew how fiercely protective she felt towards her patients. He had met many of them, during his time helping out at the clinic. Men who had lost arms in industrial accidents. Women who had lost legs in car crashes. Children unfortunate enough to be born without arms and legs. They were all being given a chance to lead a normal life, using the cyber-prosthetic limbs that his mother had pioneered. And there was no way she was going to let that normal life be jeopardized. She knew better than anyone the prejudice people with cyber-prosthetic limbs faced in such a robot-hating world. As she had told him many times, the last thing they needed was a robot made from cyber-prosthetic parts taking part in a sensationalist TV show like Destroy All Robots. Toby’s twinge of guilt deepened at the thought of his mother discovering that she was going to be betrayed not by one of her staff, but her own son. He just hoped that she realized he was doing it for the best of reasons.
“Almost there”, Marty said, his forehead beaded with perspiration. Toby looked ahead and saw the crenulated stone turrets of the Toymaker’s fortress poking above the palm tree fronds, dwarfed by the looming toy robot statue. They walked nearer and the jungle started to thin, revealing the perimeter wall surrounding the Toymaker’s garrison. It was a massive construction, at least 6 metres high, made from grey stone blocks. Marty stopped before a pair of enormous steel gates, embossed with the stylized depiction of a toy robot head, the emblem of the Toymaker. He glanced at a small CCTV camera angled above them and there was a solid thunk as the bolt holding the gates shut slid to. The gates swung open and Marty ushered them inside.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE FORTRESS
Toby and Caitlin stood at the threshold, gazing at the breathtaking sight of the fortress. A series of imposing crenulated buildings soared up majestically before them, converging on a vast rectangular courtyard. The interior walls were adorned with an array of hieroglyphics, pictures and carvings all glorifying the robot race. And towering over everything, the colossal toy robot statue.
Marty crouched to the ground, his cupped hands an imaginary TV camera. “Okay, the climax of the prologue, Major Hacker and his men storm the fortress, the gates swing open and POW there’s the big guy himself, framed on each side by the gates. Think King Kong, the original version. Pretty cool, huh?”
Toby nodded absently, entranced by the towering colossus. He walked towards it and stood between the robot’s two massive feet, each one the size and dimension of building site skips. He gazed up at the statue in awe, for the first time fully appreciating the feat of engineering involved in constructing such a monument. Vast tree-trunk legs supported a towering silver torso, rivets the size of dinner plates running up its middle like shirt buttons. Spanner-like arms jutted stiffly from the robot’s body, tipped with cruel, clawed pincers. And set upon its square shoulders was the robot’s vast box-like head.
Toby slowly circled the robot so he could see its face, walking around the ring of klieg floodlights set in the concrete plinth that the statue stood upon. The floodlights illuminated the angular planes of the robot’s face from beneath, giving it an evil, forbidding expression. Toby looked up at the robot and a shiver ran through him. It looked like a brutal and uncaring god.
Marty joined Toby and gazed up at the robot statue, glowing like a proud father. “Any self-respecting mad scientist needs a hundred foot giant robot, right?” He laughed and patted Toby on the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
Toby turned away from the statue and followed Marty and Caitlin towards the main building. “Now to the viewers at home this is the Toymaker’s Defence Garrison”, said Marty, indicating the three main sections of the fortress facing the courtyard. “But to you?” He pointed out the buildings, one by one. “To your left is the studio wing, that’s where you’ll find me and the rest of the production team. To your right is the robot workshops wing, where we’re heading now. And the main building ahead is for where the off-duty personnel are based; dormitory, recreation room, cafeteria, etcetera.”
They approached the arched entrance of the main building and Caitlin peered through the plate glass window of the cafeteria as they passed. She could see several Speed-Feeders stomping back and forth, serving actors and production team members sitting at long wooden benches. Each robot was at least 4 metres tall, square and clunky like animated vending machines, the merchandise they sold visible through greasy glass display panels.
Marty joined Caitlin at the window and pointed out each Speed-Feeder in turn. “The big one serves food, the medium one, drinks, and the small one, cigarettes and confectionery. If you want anything, just use the credit card that’s in the goodie-bag they gave you on the ship.”
Caitlin nodded absently, watching as a security guard inserted his credit card and selected a hot dog from the Speed-Feeder serving food. A frankfurter slid down a glass tube from the robot’s freezer section and dropped into the deep-fat fryer contained inside the robot’s chest unit. A few seconds later it re-emerged, now encased in a limp hot-dog bun, and plopped out onto the robot’s serving tray.
“If you’re hungry we can grab a burger or something”, said Marty, nodding at the robot as it drenched the hot dog with ketchup and mustard from its condiments squirters and dropped it on the table before the security guard.
“That’s alright”, said Caitlin as the robot turned and stomped away, the company logo on its back just about legible through the veneer of grease and encrusted ketchup: Speed-Feed – For the Ultimate Fast Food Experience. “I don’t think I’m very hungry.”
Marty nodded and ushered Toby and Caitlin away from the window. “Okay, let’s get moving.”
A flash of silver caught Marty’s eye. He turned and saw that Bill Hacker was sitting at a corner table, surrounded by a gaggle of star struck actors. As he watched, Hacker unsnapped a silver hip-flask, poured a generous measure of amber-coloured liquid into his coffee, then swiftly pocketed the flask again.
“Anything wrong?” asked Toby, seeing Marty’s concerned face.
“No, no, nothing”, said Ma
rty quickly. He lead Toby and Caitlin away from the cafeteria, trying to ignore the sense of foreboding rising within him.
CHAPTER NINE
DR TUNNEY AND DR DAWSON
Back on the beach, a small boat veered erratically into view, containing two dorky-looking eighteen year olds, one fat, one skinny. It slowly drew nearer as they paddled towards the island.
Lloyd Tunney, the larger of the two teens, inexpertly pulled on his oar, causing a wave of water to engulf his scrawny companion, Dale Dawson.
“Watch it!” Dale protested.
“Just trying to get the hang of these oars”, Lloyd said.
“Why did you cut the engine so soon anyway?” Dale muttered, wiping his face with his sleeve. “We’re freakin’ miles away!”
Lloyd shook his head wearily and pointed at the distant uniformed figures on the beach. “Security guards, dumbass. So quit whining and get paddling!”
Still cursing and splashing they steered the boat towards a secluded inlet. Lloyd jumped into the shallow water and started dragging the boat onto the beach. He glared at Dale who was still sitting sullenly in the boat. “You gonna give me a hand or what?”
Dale clambered out of the boat and helped Lloyd pull the boat up the beach, muttering under his breath. “Man oh man, this was a dumb idea. How did I let you talk me into this?”
“Any time you don’t want a piece of that 10 million bucks, just say the word”, hissed Lloyd.
They shoved the boat into the dense foliage fringing the beach then scurried up the jungle path. They reached the fortress and Lloyd beamed at the sight of the gates standing ajar. “Hey, we’re in luck!”
“So we’re just going to walk in, are we?”
Lloyd gave his friend a pitying look. “Confidence, Dale, that’s all it takes. We look like we’ve got every right to be in there, no one’s gonna stop us.” He reached into the waistband of his jeans and pulled out two crumpled white doctors coats. He tossed one to Dale who held it up dubiously.
“So what am I supposed to do with this?”
“Put it on, numbnuts! We’ve got to blend in with these roboticist guys!”
They both donned the white coats, brushing out the worst of the creases then headed towards the gates.