Year 159 P.E.D.
5:05 PM
"What do you want one of those for?" the bartender asked, eyebrows raised. The Airlock was quiet this early in the evening, most of the usual crowd still at work in the factories or mines.
Laz shrugged. "My wife always drinks them. She's obviously a good judge of the finer things in life." He gestured to himself and chuckled while the bartender rolled his eyes. "Figured I'd give it a go."
"If you say so. Your langdog want anything?"
Bud hardly noticed Laz’s downward glance, still tense from their earlier confrontation with the Academy students. He took another look around the bar, searching for threats, but it was typical clientele for this time of day. A couple mechanics off work early in a far corner, a bearded cyborg feeding treats to his langdog at the bar’s far end, a few syn-farmers with their oxygen-tank hookups hanging over their shoulders.
"Does he have any coolant for my neural processors?" Bud transmitted absently through his LANG unit.
"He'll have a beer," Laz told the bartender.
The bartender's eyebrows climbed even higher as Bud growled.
"I'm kidding, of course!" Laz laughed. "He'll just have some coolant. Berry flavored okay for you, Bud?"
"Yeah, whatever."
The bartender shook his head but smiled as he turned to prepare their drinks. "Your wife at that rally tonight?" he asked, nodding toward a vid-screen above the bar.
"Sure is," Laz replied, glancing briefly at the screen. "She helped organize it."
"Don't know how you stay so calm. With FOG sweeping last year's elections, it looks none too good for the droid-loving crowd."
"Eh, she can take care of herself. That woman can be quite assertive. Take it from someone who knows."
The bartender laughed. "Who am I to come between a man and his woman? Here you go." He set down Laz's drink—bright green in a tall-stemmed glass—and beside it, a steel water bowl filled with viscous red solution.
"Thanks, Joe."
Laz carried their drinks to a nearby table, next to which they'd stacked all the bones from the skeleton model. He set down the bowl and deployed Bud's portable dog bed from its carrying cylinder. As Bud lapped at the coolant, Laz picked up the model's skull, moving its jaw up and down.
“I seem to have misplaced my spine, Mr. Langdog.”
"I'm not in the mood, Lazarus," Bud transmitted. "Those bioists are getting bold. Maybe Joe's right about being worried."
Laz frowned and set down the skull with a sigh. "Maybe you're right. That was the third visit from a government inspector this year we received last week. I'm not certain he entirely believed our story about your malfunctioning beacon like the last two."
"And what about that new bill the chancellor introduced? If it passes, cyborgs will be lumped in with androids under the law. You won't be any better off than our housekeeper."
"The bill doesn't say that."
"Not in so many words, but the lawyers who wrote it certainly have a way with words. A twisted one."
"It'll never pass," Laz said, though his expression was contemplative.
They sat in silence for several moments before Laz took a sip of the green cocktail. His eyes widened. "Hey, this isn't half bad."
An individual dressed in an Academy uniform approached their table. Bud's hackles rose immediately, while Laz just sighed.
"I don’t suppose you’re hear to ask for help with your homework, cadet?" Laz’s voice was tired and resigned.
The student ignored Laz completely, staring directly at Bud. Something in that gaze made Bud's insides churn. Then the student's hand disappeared into his tunic and emerged holding a hadron, its barrel aimed straight at Bud's head.
Lazarus moved with cybernetic speed, grabbing the weapon. The student fought back, the weapon going off and sending a shower sparks cascading down from the ceiling. A support beam sagged and someone across the bar screamed. The assailant struggled with Laz, trying to get the hadron directed back at Bud. Laz’s face was contorted in a manner Bud had rarely seen and he spun the youth around savagely, forcing the weapon down to his hips. The young man jerked to one side, half escaping Laz’s grasp. Laz yanked him backward and… snap. The cadet’s body went limp, neck bent at an impossible angle.
Laz didn't even seem to register that he'd just killed someone, letting the body crumple to the ground beside the pile of plastic bones. "Bud! Peaks of Olympus Mons! Are you OK?"
Before Bud could respond, another hadron blast split the air. A heart-wrenching wail drew their attention to a man dropping to his knees beside a fallen langdog. As the dog's blood pooled on the floor, a figure in FOG attire calmly slid a hadron back into his jacket and strode toward the exit.
"What in the name of Bradbury is going on?" Joe demanded from behind the bar. He had what appeared to be an Old Earth shotgun in his hands, though he was shaking so much that it seemed doubtful he’d hit anything that he intended to.
The vid-screen above the bar suddenly erupted with screaming. Every patron looked up, faces etched with alarm. But the horror was just beginning. The cyborg kneeling over his dead langdog's body suddenly jerked back, eyes rolling up until only whites showed. He collapsed, body wracked with violent convulsions.
Bud started to rush toward the fallen cyborg, but a terrible sound behind him made him spin around. Laz had dropped like a marionette with cut strings, his body seizing uncontrollably as well.
Bud's diagnostic processors went into overdrive, analyzing Laz's neural patterns. The results sent ice through his circuits—Laz's connection to the NET had been severed. For a cyborg, this was equivalent to complete brain death. Without the NET to regulate his enhanced neural pathways, Laz's consciousness would simply cease to exist.
Understanding he had only seconds to act, Bud extended the data cable stored in his collar. With perfect precision born of desperation, he connected to the port behind Laz's ear. Bud's neural processors burned as they absorbed the cascade of memories and consciousness streaming from his dying friend.
His surroundings began to fade, but Bud fought against the encroaching darkness. His best friend's life literally hung by a fiber-optic thread, and he refused to let it end this way. Warning messages flooded Bud’s consciousness as his systems strained under the massive data transfer, but he ignored them all. Nothing mattered except saving Laz.
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Note: I wrote this story with the assistance of AI. To read about my process, see the following post:
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