Saturday
Jefferson
guided the moving truck back towards the side door of the High School Gymnasium
and then he and Albro got out. The back door rolled up and the ramp came down.
“Transform
and roll out,” Albro commanded from behind his helmet, sweeping his gloved hand
towards the door. Ito led a procession of automatons down the ramp; Gronk
coming out last.
“Transformers?”
“Verbal
commands was one of the goals of our club, it required the designer to devise
strategies before the match since they couldn’t program them during it. You had
to know your opponent or at the very least have contingency plans in place.”
“It doesn’t
sound autonomous if you’re telling them what to do.”
Albro went
to the doors and swung them open, motioning Ito and the rest to go in. “Are
football players autonomous? They get calls from the sideline. The end goal was
to have that level of autonomy. Our first matches were more like chess,
preplanned routes and movements that were very programming intensive. As we
developed more sophisticated AI, we could leave more of the problem solving to them.
For instance, the first goal keeper unit I built had to be told to block via a
verbal command; now Ito does it automatically.”
The vast gym
was bathed in light, both from the overhead and from freestanding can lights
that bore down on a raised platform. Currently the floor of that platform raced
from one color to the next and then into a series of lines. Banners promoting
the Duel of the Robotech Masters were hung from the walls, ceiling, and even
the basketball hoop. Platforms with cameras were stationed on the four corners
of the room and thick, black cables ran to a central booth at the foot of the
bleachers.
“Your nemesis
went all out.”
“Yeah.”
Jefferson
sensed hesitancy in Albro’s voice. “You can beat him, man.”
“Albro!”
Jefferson
and Albro’s attention was brought to the knot of men around the central booth,
a man in black turtleneck waved wildly.
“That’s Cal.”
“Albro!” Cal
motioned for the two to come over.
“I’ve waited
long for this day old friend.”
“OK.”
“Why don’t
you take off your helmet and Steve…” “Mark,” the man corrected for probably the
hundredth time. “Mark… will get you mic’d.”
“Mic’d?”
“Oh, yes! My
viewers, at least the premium ones, get the most intimate access to every duel.
They’ll hear the strategy, the agony, and the elation of each match.”
“OK.”
“Good, the
match starts in an… oh, you brought your little good luck charm.”
“I ain’t
nobody’s good luck charm.”
“I was
talking to Ito.” Cal bent down to talk to Ito who had followed behind Albro and
Jefferson. “Ito, Ito, Ito. I think the second thing I’ve looked forward to all
this time is seeing each of your tiny arms being ripped from their sockets.”
Ito raised
several fingers on the ends of his manipulators to show he shared the
sentiment.
“Delightful.
As I was saying, the match starts in an hour. Prepare yourselves gentlemen.”
Cal turned and walked off to a curtained off section of the gym.
“I have
never wanted so much in my life to slap someone than right now.” Jefferson
glared daggers in Cal’s direction.
“Let’s get
ready.”
* * *
The overhead
lights had been turned off, while the can lights made it impossible to see into
the darkness where the audience was filing in. It was a loud, excited crowd
that was filling the seats. Albro, Jefferson, and T1N stood in their team box, a
raised platform that was behind the goal. The LED display was emblazoned with
the logo of the Lectronic Shoppe and the name ROBOTECH MASTER - ALBRO SWIFT
shifting from gray to blue and back again. Gwen had had to plead with her uncle
to let them use the store as the team’s sponsor. Uncle Sam begrudgingly let
them use it, noting that they’d better win.
Gwen had
also provided Albro and Jefferson with matching white jumpsuits, also sporting
the store logo.
“She thought
of everything.” Jefferson said while checking the suit’s fit.
The lights
went out and a hush fell over the crowd.
“Ladies and
gentlemen.” The voice of the announcer broke the silence. “Welcome to the event
of this century, the dawn of a new age in entertainment, and you will be the
first to experience the Duel of the Robotech Masters!”
“He knows
that’s trademarked, right,” Jefferson asked. Albro shook his head, no.
“From the
first days of man, he has sought to create life. And now in this new digital
age, life has been born.” A screen on the far wall lit up and the image of a
robot played across it. “The first were simple, dependent, and meek. Today,
however, you will witness the pinnacle of robotics.” The image changed to a
giant red robot, a single red eye sweeping back and forth. “Maximillian come
forth!”
All the
lights went out, save for a single spotlight that shined on the curtained area
Cal had went back to. Peeling the velvet away were two great pincers. It strode
out on two legs like a bull entering the bullring, strong and powerful. The red
eye swept the room, seeming to find all it saw lacking. Secondary arms moved
like snakes from the midsection of the automaton, moving with an alluring grace.
“Only one,”
Jefferson asked.
“He is a
machine breed with a singular purpose,” continued the announcer. “To dominate
all others and prove that there can be only one… ROBOTECH MASTER!” With this
Calvin Rueben Hanson rose out of the center of the platform, his face showing
no emotion.
“Thank you.
Thank you. I am excited to share with you the next great thing!”
Albro
facepalmed.
“The first
duel is especially important to me. My opponent and I were once friends, no,
brothers, but then he betrayed me many years ago. He thought he could escape
justice but fate deemed that we should finish the duel I was denied. Tonight, I
battle a man I once called friend… Albro Swift.”
A beam of
light illuminated the suddenly weak kneed Albro. Jefferson and T1N put a hand
on his back to steady him.
“You can do
this, man. You can beat him.”
Calvin made
a flourish with his hands which started a preprogrammed display on the platform’s
floor. Patterns of robots moved amongst swirls of color, slowly forming the
standard lines of the dueling field. Calvin went up into his team box, while Maximillian
stepped out in front of his goal.
“That’s your cue.”
Albro’s
mouth was dry but he somehow spit out, “Lead them out Ito.”
Ito gave
Albro a sharp nod and then rolled out with five other automatons following
behind him. The majority of the past two days had been spent on the four other
robots, Ito needing only slight modification. These four, who Jefferson had
named Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, and Michelangelo (he’d even painted colored
headbands on each of them), were similar to T1N in design, but much smaller and
presumably lighter.
Ito took his
place in front of the goal and the four spread out around the field. Leonardo
took the offered ball from the match official and again the room fell to a
hush.
Albro took a
deep breath. His mind raced like it never had before during a match. Obviously
it was a combination of the overwhelming feeling of exposure and the countless
number of eyes fixed on him. He wanted to run screaming from the room, but one
thought kept him rooted. Gwen was somewhere in the stands watching him as well.
One last thought of her and then he brought the mental blinders down.
There was
only the playing field and the six units now. “Let’s end this,” he said softly.
“Picard Maneuver.”
* * *
And so it begins...
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