Tuesday, April 26, 2005

A Case For Daly Rage Part 01

“Private Dick Daly. That’s what it says on the door."
The sexy female robot had sauntered through Dalys’ office door like her hips were on fire. Even though her face was static, locked onto one bland expression, he could tell she was scared. A bead of oil trickled down her, otherwise, immaculate faceplate. Her posture was at an irregular angle, off approximately half a degree too far to the left, for her modal. Her monotronic voice quivered when she asked if she was in the right place.
“Sorry for interrupting you so late in your day, Herr Daly. But I need your help”
“I could never refuse a beautiful robot babe”, quipped Daly.
“My husband is in trouble”, snapped the German built bot, “I do not see the humour here.”
Daly tipped his glasses up on his nose. He knew he should take this more seriously but he had just taken a grade 2 yogi. In 24 minutes he would begin feeling it’s effects. Hyperactivity, paranoia, irritable bowels… Soon after that, he will be asleep.
“You’re right, we don’t have much time. Mrs….”
“Mrs. Anglegrinder.”
“Mrs. Anglegrinder. What has happened?”
She sat down now and put her handbag on her lap.
“My husband has been kidnapped by kidnap-bots and ransom-bots have sent this note.”
She hands a greasy sheet of paper to Daly who reads it silently. A series of 0’s and 1’s are scattered across the sheet. Binary code.
In English, the note read:
“We have your husband-bot, Mrs. Anglegrinder.
Come to Factory Five at 0300 hours with €1,000,000 in gold bullion if you want to see him functioning again.”
This note confused Daly. She knew where her husband-bot was, so why did she need a detective?
“This is mega serious, Mrs. Anglegrinder. But why did you come to me and not to the police-bots? This isn’t my usual business.”
The she-bots’ circuits began to buzz with sorrow, or maybe anger.
“My husband-bot was a big fan of your work, Herr Daly.”
What work was she talking about? Daly was a second-rate detective at best, only good for swotting flies and falling over. Could the she be talking about…?
“My work in the war?” asked Daly hoping the answer was would be a stern no.
“Yes, your work in the war.” The she-bot replied. “You have killed so many robots and humans without mercy or remorse, and with such brevity. You are a legend among my people, Herr Daly. A LEGEND.”
This outburst startled Daly. Mrs. Anglegrinder was obviously an evil bitch-bot but Daly couldn’t help feeling attracted to her.
He looked at his timepiece and saw it was 0147. The meeting was happening in just over an hour but whatever he was going to do would have to be done soon. Otherwise the yogi will take effect and Daly will be just another useless body in the world.
“Alright, Mrs. Anglegrinder. I’ll rescue your husband. But you understand this will be expensive. And I might die.”
“I realise the cost, Herr Daly, but he is my husband. I love-emoticon him.”
Daly nodded. He understood what must be done… His life for a robot! This thought made his liver shudder. What has happened to him in the ten years since the war? What noble acts has he performed for humanity?
Guilt borrowed a hole through Daly. He began remembering all the faces and faceplates of those he had killed. Everyone etched into his mind. He had committed atrocities wholly unheard of before in history. When the war was over, the dead outnumbered the living. Because of this, redemption was always but a distant hope in his life. He deserved nothing more than a dogs’ death and had fully resigned himself to such but tonight changed all of that. For once he could save a life. For once, he could do some good.
He got up and put on his leather jacket.
“Time to eat some road.”
Daly leaped from his sixth floor window onto the street below like a crazy anime character. The street shattered below his feet and his jeans tore a little on the bottom. Dust rose up and spread throughout the city block. Car and house alarms blared out, dogs barked. Daly sat into his Astra like a Gladiator into a chariot. Squeezing the steering wheel, he thought, “This is it. This is the end”.
And to the sounds of urban jazz, he floored it to destiny.


  1. This post activated my humor sensors and generated a laugh reponse in my vocalization box.

  2. Thanks.
    Part two will be an action packed sequel featuring many dead bots. I hope. I haven't actually written it yet.

  3. What did Private Dick Daly Bot do in the war? I like war.

  4. It reminds me of Blade Runner. Pretty funny.

  5. He wasn't a bot. He was a human killing-machine. He didn't kill humans, he was human. He wasn't a machine either. I use that term figuratively. He killed a lot is what I mean. Although, he did actually kill humans... and bots.
    He was a soldier who killed everything.

    Someday I might write, with your help Ian, one of his missions. Like the day he took the 'Hill of One Thousand Bots'. Ironically, the mission was incorrectly named as it wasn't a hill, it was a mountain. And there was 10,000 bots.

  6. Blade Runner. Yes. Score. Yes... Score. Yes. Score. Yes. Score. Yes. Score. Yes. Score. Yes. Score. Yes. Score.

  7. Blade runner must only be referenced if referring to the Director's Cut. Strange but true the term "watching Blade Runner" is a euthamism for having sex in my circles. (ok just me really)

  8. Obviously, I have never watched Blade Runner.

  9. I recommend either but in regards to the actual movie watch the directors cut b/c narrarated movies irritate me and the regular cut is narrarated. . Also I wrote a paper on it so I am a self proclaimed expert on the film.

    end transmission

  10. This reminds a lot of the invasion of Iwo Jima on February 19th 1945, many, and by many I mean me, have called Mount Suribachi the mountain of ten thousand Japanese fanatics.

  11. Ah yes. I remember it well. The Night of One Thousand Bots. Pleasue you couldn't measure.