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“You’re bigger than them, you know! You don’t have to listen to them!” Al shouted as Rover shoved the prisoner into his cell. Electric green eyes meeting his. Pleading. It stood in thought. Of course, robots couldn’t really think for themselves. Calculating, perhaps that was the better word. It slammed the door shut.
Robots were made with one thing in mind: to complete tasks. Rover’s task was to listen to its master's commands. Simple. Do as Spectra told it to and destroy anything in its path. Companion turned combatant. There was a time where the only things it was tasked with was listening, comforting, and playing. It longed for those days. Its metallic shine had become dulled; deep cuts surrounded with red rust.
“Good job, Rover.” A slimy hand slid up its large arm. “Good girl.” Admiral Atom sneered, his mouth jutting into a toothy grin. “The princess would like to see you.” He sweetly stroked its arm as if petting a large child. He brought it to life, gave it intelligence. What could it do but follow him? He took the heavy hand, leading it down the sleek yet underutilized corridor of the spaceship, leaving a slithering trail in the dust. Rover toddled along, footsteps like dropping bricks.
“I knew your machine would come in handy,” Spectra said, swiveling in her throne, sitting atop a grand staircase. She could see miles of space past the motherboard, being the head of the crew. “And here I thought you were useless.” She pursed her bottom lip, catching on her fangs.
Admiral Atom’s smile soured. Every compliment was backhanded around here. He shoved his robot in front of him. “Well, yes, your highness.” He bowed, his body curling in on itself. “I was the king’s lead scientist.”
Spectra pushed herself up, the clicking of her heels echoing in the vast room. “How would you like to work with me…up here?” her thin hands brushed over the motherboard, a wicked smile on her face. “We could find her together.”
Admiral Atom’s grip tightened on Rover’s hand, his bushy grey eyebrows revealing his slit eyes. “It would be an honor and a privilege.” His lip twitched.
Rover stared at Spectra, eyes shaking. How could she not see it? Every one of them was power hungry. It was just a competition to see who could climb higher.
“And you, robot!” Spectra started down the stairs. “How would you like your voice back?” She snapped her fingers. “Admiral!” She caught his attention, throwing a tiny plastic chip towards him.
“Oh, my beautiful machine!” Swiftly picking it up, Admiral Atom readied himself to insert the chip into the back of Rover’s head. “I’d be so lost without you. Where would I be, where would I be?” His voice warbled, kissing bolts. The moment the chip snapped in place, Rover instinctually jumped around and slung her creator to the wall.
Admiral Atom rubbed his back, groaning. He massaged his temple, smiling and shaking his head. “Must’ve been a temporary malfunction.” He rationed, Spectra’s red eyes boiled. He heaved back up, old bones cracking. “Come here, darling. Show us your new voice,” he said, holding his arms out.
Rover stood silently. She stared down Admiral Atom, whose eyes darted. He was right; it was an accident. But it felt good. What else could she do?
“Malfunction? We don’t have malfunctions around here,” Spectra said, stomping down the stairs. Her pale face burned red. She went face to face with Rover, sizing up the mighty mech canine. “Talk, damnit! You are machine, you will BOW to US.”
You’re bigger than them.
Rover grasped Spectra’s wrist and hurled her onto the floor. The spindly alien folded, a mess of limbs. Her face had drained into a sickly white. Despite Rover’s height, it was hard to recognize her own strength. She stared down at them, huddled up against the wall: master and creator. For the first time, she saw fear in their eyes. No, terror. She knew she could easily squash them. Yet…she couldn’t. She stepped back. They looked like children. Just like the days they used to play together. Rover’s eyes scanned the room for an escape, an incomprehensible shame. She bolted through the grand entrance doors.
The prisoner, he was right. There was more to her than being used for dirty work. For the first time, she was going to make her own decision: to set him free.