The bullet pierces the cowbots metallic outer casing, creating a perfect steaming circle below his robust arm. It exits out the other side and screams away as another bullet enters his chest, cracking his plutonic heart, liquid radiation pouring out of the wound and dripping to the ground turning it luminous green and dead to life for hundreds of years.
The shooter was a farmbot, protecting his cattle and land. And his daughter, of course. His memory circuits buzz and snap as he recollects moving to Americon from the Old Country, hopes and dreams stored in his ‘Wishful Thinking Drive’. He was a fully functioning farmbot then, his bolts and switches operational and well oiled. But he has become obsolete, like the model before him. His daughter is updating fast these days too. Pretty soon she’ll have the required specifications to link to a young farmbot with land.
He lowered his rifle and limped over to the offline cowbot. Its eye LED’s were blinking red and its positronic reflex matrix was twitching his foot, banging out deaths tune. He peered closer as his sensors were out of focus and needed re-adjusting lenses. A heavy looking satchel hung around the dead bots neck. The farmbot flipped it open and gold pieces poured out. They flipped and twirled on the ground, dancing like one of the town whorebots, irresistible to any correctly aligned manbot.
The farmbots head spun on his neck and his sound card gave out an involuntary beep. His imagination circuit board began to function, creating images of his daughter in a big house with hordes of well oiled youngbots whizzing about underfoot. A strong new farmbot model standing by her side, his arm locked around her waist. Greedily, the farmbot snapped up the pieces, being very careful not to miss one, and took them inside to count.
Forth-six pieces stacked neatly on his kitchen table, counted twice. Forty-six shiny gold pieces. The farmbot crackled and sizzled with frustration. It was stolen loot from the bank two towns over. The news was all over the wire and was the only thing his daughter could talk about for a week after. The farmbots guilt program started running, commanding him to return the cash to the local sheriffbot, but it was overrun by his father routine, which commanded him to look after his daughter first. Routines and programs contradicted each other. His hard drive began to crash with this sudden influx of orders and he had to sit. He couldn’t keep the money because it belonged to other farmbots like him, with bigger families too. But then, nobody knew he had it. He could keep it and spend it with intelligence.
His daughter came down from her room and the farmbot quickly threw a towel over the gold pieces.
“Buzz. Father, is everything running efficiently? My sensors detected gunshots. Crackle” Said his worried daughter, obviously afraid for his existence.
“Snap. Affirmative daughter. Pop.”
She returned upstairs to her room and the farmbot uncovered the swag. He slid it from the table into the satchel and placed in it a drawer. Outside the sun was setting for another night, so the farmbot decided to dig the grave in the morning.