Page 26 of Operation Iron Heart

“Is what Monty said true? You’re producing these robots using former combat robots?”

“Yes, their basic framework, at least,” replied Marci coolly.

“Oh, so that’s why he’s so huge?” Atkinson wrinkled his nose as if he’d been served the wrong meal. “And what about the rest?”

“His core processor is based on our own software with a very special, regularly upgraded emotional component. Apart from the usual ingredients that make up his incredibly human appearance, you won’t find anything else from a combat robot,” she explained calmly, relieved that the link to her prompter at Hunters Lane now seemed to be working smoothly again. “After his transformation, he can do everything that a modern woman wishes of her dream man,” she added with a touch of arrogance.

“Does he still have his dick? Or has that been modified, too?” asked Atkinson bluntly, looking at Jack with a cynical grin.

“Of course,” replied Marci, unruffled. “And if you want to know some more details, he can even be circumcised to suit the cultural needs of the particular client.”

Atkinson seemed momentarily lost for words, while his wife gave a restrained giggle.

Jack took a slug of his whisky and scanned the large room, a look of boredom on his face as if the discussion about his internal and external features were of no concern to him.

Atkinson had clearly noticed that the robot drank alcohol and therefore acted no differently from all the other guests, which only seemed to fuel his suspicions.

“You’ve no doubt heard what happened to Rochelle MacIntyre,” he reminded Marci unnecessarily.

She swallowed hastily, trying not to show anything that might reveal she’d actually been a witness to this event. “Your wife has already broached the topic and I told her that this incident would never happen with our products.”

He continued to press his point. “Rochelle ordered a robot from CRU and she ended up in her bedroom with a broken neck. Nobody knows what happened yet, but it looks like it was the work of professionals. All the recording systems were deleted remotely. The robot that was delivered has disappeared and there’s no trace of her human cleaner, either. If you ask me, it was no simple burglary. I’m sure these bloody rebels are behind it.” He huffed in annoyance, his irascible gaze sweeping over Jack’s imposing figure, whose body language was currently all too clear. He didn’t like him. The two women at the table exchanged a hasty glance but refrained from expressing any further opinion about Jack’s presence. Jill Ambush gave a stiff nod. “For a journalist like me it’s a huge story, but I feel incredibly sorry for Rochelle MacIntyre.”

“We’ve pulled out all the stops to catch the perpetrators,” added Atkinson with an aggressive undertone in his voice, “but so far to no avail. The only thing we have is an energy trail from a supersonic glider that escaped over the lake heading to Canada.”

He paused and looked intently at Marci. “That’s where their production facility is located, from what I’ve heard. If I were them, I’d be careful not to attract the attention of these rebels. They’re like an animal rights organisation for robots that will stop at nothing to achieve their aims,” he proclaimed darkly. “A hypocritical bunch of moralisers who believe they can change the world based on their ridiculous ideas. But they need to watch their backs. Once we find where they’re hiding out, it won’t help them one bit to be in a neutral neighbouring country. We’ll raze their hide-outs to the ground.” There was a gleam in his eyes as he said this, still looking threateningly at Marci.

“Don’t get so worked up, darling,” said his wife, stroking his arm in an attempt to placate him. “It’s not Ms Rosebud’s fault that she works in a business that’s full of crazy people. And besides, her mission is completely different from MacIntyre’s. Make love not war,” she said, quoting the hippies’ motto from the previous century and glancing at Jack with an expression of optimism on her face. Given her husband’s short temper, Jack’s expression remained blank; he’d realised early on that the Governor’s presence put them on dangerous ground.

“As I’ve already said,” growled Atkinson looking at his wife, “before letting a guy like that in your bed I’d check every last one of his processors, and if he had even one screw loose, I’d personally smash him into tiny pieces.”

His hostile expression rested on both Jack and Marci and she felt sick at the thought of what would happen if Atkinson found out who they really were.

Jill coughed quietly and gave Jack a sympathetic smile. “I don’t think he looks that threatening,” she said, trying to make light of Atkinson’s misgivings.

“How do you know it was the robot that murdered Rochelle MacIntyre?” The words slipped out of Marci’s mouth. “It could just as easily have been a human perpetrator. Someone who had something against CRU starting a new project.”

“You mean someone who saw them as competition?” Atkinson raised an eyebrow and gave a superior smile. “Someone like you, perhaps?”

Marci’s heart started to race and she felt Jack unobtrusively put his large hand on her knee, calming her with his warmth.

“That’s just absurd,” said Marci, firmly if inelegantly refuting his suspicions. “MfM doesn’t need to remove unwelcome competitors from its path. We have a strong individual concept.”

Before Atkinson could respond, Montgomery MacIntyre appeared on the stage to rapturous applause. He was of average height and his slim frame and short black hair, styled in a childlike ponytail, made him look less like the fully-grown adult he was and more like an innocent choirboy. Which he definitely wasn’t. He would never have appealed to Marci for that reason alone, but his small brown eyes, full of pure calculation, set her alarm bells ringing. And now she had also learned just how amoral his businesses were. Even the way he stood in his white, collarless suit, arms spread wide like a saviour before his faithful public, didn’t change what he was. In a fiery speech, he espoused the wonders of his latest combat robot model, lavishing praise upon its many features as if it were a divine blessing. He gave no mention of the fact that the government could barely afford his deceptively human-looking, super-powerful machines and that he was therefore forced to either make them cheaper, which would negatively impact the quality, or come up with a more cost-effective version, which is basically what hybrid soldiers were.

Basking in the raucous applause and attention of the clamouring public, MacIntyre then brought a huge robot wrestler – bald with enormous muscles and wearing a small loincloth – onto the stage. The audience clearly wanted one thing: action.

MacIntyre made it very clear who was in charge, ordering the future combat robot to pose for the public like a bodybuilder, bend some steel bars as if they were blades of grass and then rip apart some chains. A holographic presentation appeared on the screen, providing an impressive demonstration of how the robot’s laser-powered automatic rifle could hit a target up to three miles away.

After the thunderous applause had died down and the robot had disappeared off stage, back into its container, MacIntyre delivered a rousing speech on the significance of the three-day event, intended to highlight once again the need to deploy combat robots. Essentially, the intention was to squeeze the last bit of taxpayers’ money out of those in charge, including Atkinson, so that they would continue to supply their armies with MacIntyre’s robots.

Marci watched Jack following the events carefully, his already hard expression growing even stonier. He didn’t like MacIntyre making a spectacle of his kind and was probably wondering how long it would be before this generation of robots woke up, too.

Meanwhile, MacIntyre was delivering a few special words of thanks to his clients, clearly hinting that the war against the PanAsian Front could go on for years and that he, Montgomery MacIntyre, loyal citizen and supporter of the President, would offer everything at his disposal to help secure victory. The President, who was subsequently brought onto the stage, grinned jovially as the blinding spotlights drew attention to his suave features. Accompanied by the flash of hundreds of cameras, the audience welcomed him with rapturous applause. His wife, a slim brunette with shoulder-length hair and a sleek smile and wearing a tight-fitting blue satin dress, clapped wildly, seemingly trying to outshine the spotlights as MacIntyre invited her husband to speak. She was clearly Jill Ambush’s sister as the two women were like peas in a pod, apart from their hair colour; Jill’s was dyed light blonde.

As the President – a vain old man with black hair – talked at length about the triumphs of their robot armies against the PanAsian Front, comprising the Chinese and Russians, Marci felt the eyes of Atkinson and the two women upon her and worried about applauding in the right place.

The President also praised the positive collaboration between MacIntyre and the Department of Defence and the significant savings this had produced over the last few years due to the use of artificial intelligence. He called Senator Ashton Ambush – Jill’s ex-husband, who’d been seated a good distance away from her – onto the stage and thanked him with a specially-made medal for his new and innovative ideas that had helped to reduce troop costs even further.