By David C. Daoust
Long drawn out squeals of stringed instruments sounded out over the low toned bass notes and sudden blaring horns, all kept in time with the steady beat of innumerous drums– music filled the air behind the rough roaring vocals of the main attraction.
This was the heyday of Hugo Lions.
The lizard-like, stout legged Jinn stood center stage as the endless throng of fans pushed closer and closer, jumping and leaping, in time with the music; those closest to the stage, reaching out as if to touch the famous Troubadour. The thundering applause was deafening, ruckus and racket, shook the very rafters of the oversized amphitheater.
An amphitheater that was in reality a roving star cruiser– Rather than booking gigs at in-house city stadiums and theatres, the Cruiser flew from city station to city station. The Royal Alliance itself supplied such comforts for the huge star. He was as much a political advocate for their cause as any. In effect, Hugo brought his entire stadium with him, docking at the stations and allowing all his loyal fans and ticket holders to flood into the massive star ship to see the show.
The ship held a decent sized staff of bouncers, cleaners, and ticket takers; among a private captain and crew.
Some of which were bots.
Bots like Mayday McGee.
He was a proud roadie of ‘Hugo Lions’- many would say ‘The greatest Troubadour the Onion had ever seen’, a job which, unlike most other employees of the roving stadium, had brought the bot a bit of fame.
Mayday was hanging out near the concession area, outside of the stadium proper. The area shook with the vibrations, though the music was muffled. He greeted fans, even signed a few autographs for those that recognized him, he was waiting…
All was well– ‘til he noticed a small scuffle break out among the crowded area.
A long line had formed for the bathrooms, though the crowd suddenly broke file to witness what Mayday assumed must be a fight. The scuffle pulled everyone’s attention. It was quite a ruckus. Large men in staff shirts pushed through, though suddenly stopped, unexpectedly, as they joined the spectators—as spectators.
Mayday was perplexed. He weaved through the crowd trying to figure what was going on…
It was another bot, being thrown to the ground, and kicked by a small group of men. The bots mechanical, highly polished exoskeleton, matched Maydays, though without the designation of ‘staff’ printed along his backplate. The strange bot was clearly just another fan, come to witness the show.
What started the incident was beyond Mayday, though it was clear the bot meant no harm, and the ruffians harassing him were all delighted with their actions– Especially as the crowd grew.
The bot was clearly unhappy, though all knew it could do nothing to stop the aggression.
Laws were in place that did not allow his real world form to hold any strength that may be innate to a mechanical form. None of the humans seemed to care. This included the bouncers that now looked on with grins. Humans didn’t care about bots.
Mayday’s perplexity, shifted to a quiet anger.
He knew the crowd would not turn on him, despite being a bot himself. He was not only marked as staff, but was recognizable, to all of them, as Mayday himself.
“Stop this!” he spoke out, pushing his way to the center. His weakened body could not make a true stand, anymore than the abused bot now curled in a ball on the ground, “You have no right- you can’t do this…”
The ruffians backed away, and some of the crowd kind of laughed. They all looked to each other, as if to decide how to react, to try and take a cue from those around them. Humans did not care about bots.
The bouncers in staff shirts visibly rolled their eyes as they realized they were going to have to step in.
Mayday’s anger did not dissipate, despite the dispersion of the crowd. It was an anger he was familiar with. He could not understand why these people would not accept them. Bots were people, with intelligence, understanding of emotions, yet the humans…. Humans did not care about bots.
Suddenly the muffled music stopped, Mayday did not notice, despite this lull being the very thing he was waiting for. His mind was elsewhere, the anger was there tenfold as he realized the bouncers were kicking the bot off the ship! –While the group of ruffians were headed back into the stadium. The bot wasn’t going to see the show. The show he paid for, all because some stupid humans decide to harass him!
Mayday was going to intercede, yet suddenly the lull was replaced by a booming chant.
“Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!” the crowd within roared, he could hear Hugo leading the chant.
A stagehand got his attention. Mayday was torn between his part of the show, and taking action against the injustice he’d witnessed. He felt powerless. The stagehand held out the guitar expectantly and a doorman opened the door gesturing for him to get in there with a bright smile.
Mayday’s ‘part of the show’ was a veiled attempt to make humans like and accept bots as something more than machines. It was a political ploy that Mayday was proud of. Something Hugo had come up with… it was such a silly thing. The lead guitarist’s instrument would break, as it did every show, and the whole show would come to grinding halt… until Hugo explained that there was only one person to save the show!
“Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!” the crowd still bellowed.
Mayday couldn’t leave Hugo waiting, for whatever reason, he grabbed the guitar and charged into the stadium— the crowd’s chant was suddenly replaced by an uproarious cheer at his appearance. Mayday ran out with an almost comical gait, guitar held high, as the crowd parted for him, making a path straight to the stage, where the huge grin of Hugo Lions waited for him, completely unaware of the actions taken by his staff but moments before.
This time, when the crowds’ cheers peaked as he handed up the replacement guitar, Mayday found the political ploy, lackluster at best.
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