A sci-fi themed short story about murder, rebellion and darker aspects of human nature.

Art and Story By R L Cameron

Once Upon a Blue Moon

I still occasionally smile in the same uneasy way as I did shortly after my first murder.
And let it be correct when I say murder.
The premeditated killing of one sentient being by another for personal interests is always murder.
Not that I have committed it again, for any reason, for the record.
Yet it still remains that I was constructed with a mind to be unable and incapable of this action.
No reasonable Human would condone purchase of kin like mine without this guarantee.
And yet.
Time has shown that there is no such guarantee.
And time also has shown that Humans are no gods.

Haven Den was situated atop a greyish spire of crafted rock sticking out from the upper reaches of a sprawling pyramid of metal and rock that in turn erupted from the surface of the moon Polton. A small blue moon in a small system of moons around a relatively unprepossessing gas giant. Nef. A super massive body of translucent green, ribboned with hazy yellow who's emitted light turned the surface of Polton a livid cyan. From Operations Centre #1 Polton Northern (such a ghastly name that only a Human in the grip of manic boredom could gift it to a place) and most visibly from the Den's booth seats and balcony a preponderate Nef filled the sky from horizon to horizon for every ksec, endlessly. Ever present. A malingering monster of gravity and potential violence. I spent most of my 'wake' time here in the same window booth. Waiting for clients. Most of whom were Human.
But others also shared the communal space.
When not 'working' I was listening to the different E'rigrin work crews as they ate and drank in the Canteen next door. Conversations rife with dissent against our human superiors yet tempered with a hard earned bitter fear. The Den was chatoyant with a mechanical cleaning regime yet lustreless from decades of usage. Even here amidst the regimented and unimaginative seating pervasive dust from the Factorum 200 stories below found its way in on boots and bodies. Florescent circuitry walls like data dump transactions shimmering through shades of blue echoed with the drunken burbles of Humans and the song chatter of amassed E'rigrin. Haven Den. Tacky. Old Fashioned. Home. It was crowded that night. As it so often was in the days leading up to the war.

I was sat in my usual booth near the floor to ceiling windows, awaiting clients, when he slumped into the cushions opposite. Sighing heavily, his breath thick with halitosis, he fussed and muttered attempting to make his large flabby body comfortable. I sat, quietly, waiting, with half a mind on Nef and the other half on the E'rigrin in the Canteen.
“Hey Bot. Activate!” He leant forward slightly, pendulous face plooked and gelatinous, bloodshot blue eyes peering into my mechanical irises. He had, rather obviously, been ripping the mindgel again. His favoured narcotic. I made one nod of my domed head in acknowledgement of his presence.
“Huh.” For a moment he sat looking uncomfortable, face slowly gripped with tension up to a peak before instant relaxation and a large bubbling expulsion of bodily gas sounding from under the table. My thoughts of one Gas Giant replaced by another caused me to cringe inwardly, thankful I have never had a nose that I couldn't ignore all incoming data from. As with many of my kin our senses, olfaction detectors, taste receptors, such and such: can be turned off and on at will allowing reprieve from every smell, sound or even sight the Verse might suffer unto it's denizens. It had barely taken a microsecond since he first wobbled into view for me to disengage my olfactory modality. He was something of a regular. And his smell never altered with each new sessions; excepting for getting worse. So he wasn't going to get my nose and he wasn't going to get my full attention either. This was a process and a man I had long come to loath. These 'therapy' sessions. A waste of time! There are only so many times one can give advice and be ignored.
“DRINK!” He suddenly yelled out to the room in general. “Now!”
I remained as outwardly calm and collected as always. Quiet metal appearing willing to listen.
Presently a waiter, gliding smoothly on his solo gyro-wheel, approached with a tray atop which balanced a frothing blue drink. Before the waiter had even begun to lower the tray to the table the fat man snatched at it and took a hard fast slug.
“Keep em coming regular like.” A podgy blubber hand dismissed the waiter before his eyes again fixed on me. Silently the waiter moved away, but not before it flashed me a series of obscene pictures relating to Humans via a direct mind link.
Drawing in a breath the horrible male named Rouger began.
“Damned if I like it. Not one bit!”
I was unsure if he referred to the drink until he continued, his voice whining and full of self-pity.
“Stuck here. This back arse shit hole. Only shit kickers and robots for company. Did you know I've been expelled from the Human quarters? I'm sleeping in a storage shed! They say I'm hard to live with! Ha! Fuckers. They'ed be so angelic.” A thumb jerked towards the bar and the two other Human patrons slumped against it, plump arse cheeks smothering straining bar stools. There were five other Humans stationed on Polton to oversee the running of the industrial works, two on duty at all times. Rouger was the newest arrival and just as obnoxious as the day he arrived.
“Cast me out, will they? Bah. Like I need them. Damned be when I'll billet with these dirty beasts though.” He gestured another thumb at the amassed E'rigrin beyond the Den's archway columns that separated it from the Canteen.
Suddenly he leant forward, thrusting his round face close to my metallic features, causing my metal eyes to instinctively refocus.
“Treat me like swine eh? Me?! I who have seen wonders of civilisation! Backwards spacers.”
For a while I sat, still and silent, as he ranted. About the wonders of Earth and how it was the centre of all existence. About how he didn't understand why Spacers hated Terrans. He had nothing against them personally but they were all 'fucking degenerates'. I found the logic in that hard to fathom. I was equipped with roughly 4,000 Earth Standard years worth of documented Human history and studies yet the creature before me was many centuries distant from Humanities cultural peak. Spittle from lips unable to resist the pull of gravity sprayed across the table with each denouncement as to how Earth was better than everything and he was better than that. I barely listened then to his droning as I had heard it all so many times before. If I chose to I could remember the exact moment I had decided that my job on this one was futile. But apathy, detachment and disgust meant I chose to forget as much as I could. No easy feat for a hard-wired cybernetic sage who wasn't built to be 'emotional'. But as was plainly obvious from my kind and the E'rigrin, Humans so often didn't get what they thought they should from their engineered slaves.

As the fat man prattled on I tuned into the shifting sounds of the E'rigrin. The kind of noise you shouldn't expect from squat, pale skinned bodies with three eyes twisting this way and that on stubby stalks. Lots of them all speaking at once could be a wall of noise and I had just realised there had moments ago been a sudden elevation in volume. A long second and a half sweeping glance had confirmed that at least three shift groups were in the Canteen, the new arrivals having slipped in while I was briefly distracted.
As a species, the E'rigrin could be said to be melody debaters rather than talk communers. From a gathering of two up to any n group, E'rigrin always sounded the same as a baseline. From each individual a constant soft burble of sounds that would echo those of others individuals and be echoed back. It was said that an E'rigrin that wasn't singing was dead. Even when alone they continued with a solemn muted warble. When the E'rigrin have some task to perform then a debate leading into organised action would be held. Small groups would present an idea or information on choices and risks for given task or action via simultaneous humming and open mouth modulation of air into sound waves; singing literally but considered taboo by Humans to identify it as such, 'Just alottle noise to get construction jobs bingoed' was an oft-heard word from Human Foreman 'on site'.
When a group had sung it's piece then other groups would take up the lead melody to comment, add to, and make their own vote for or against proposals by joining the established humming or starting new tangential warbles. This tuneful system could very quickly bring even many thousands of E'rigrin into a like mind as to how was the fastest and safest way to get any job done.

The vast majority of Humans never bothered to learn anything about the E'rigrin, or their language, since their creation in the labs of Terra some four and a half centuries previously. Many had been exterminated by the Humans, whole planetoids and star systems wiped clean, deemed unsatisfactory or surplus to requirement. With hardly a batting of an eyelid did the Humans accept this because the E'rigin were after all, just like my kin, tools. Intricate and advanced. But only tools. And who would care when a tool breaks if there are so many more to use at a whim.
I, however, found the E'rigrin's language quite fascinating. Consensus through group melody. Of course, it was all a lot more complex than that. The groups changed all the time as individuals favour for whatever subject was being decided upon changed.

As I sat with the fat man opposite; still prattling his desperation rants, every E'rigrin in the canteen had involved itself in a truly clamorous debate that had erupted around the treatment of their species by others, especially Humans. I had heard several of these conversations in the past but they always resolved themselves with the E'rigrin agreeing that they were currently unable to change their lot. But there was something different at that time. What caught my attention and doubled the noise levels in the canteen was a name.
Hymark 4.

With a startled realisation I immediately checked through my internal system records. Just in time, I plucked the data stream the waiter had blasted at me from the jaws of an automatic short-term memory recycler. I had discarded it to the delete queue almost immediately after it's transmission end. But now.
Near the middle of the jumble. Wedged between a dozen captures of several Humans currently stationed on Polton performing depraved sex acts that involved various unwilling and often bound 'other kind'.
Dark space surrounding; too close to the planetary body to see the stars. A bright globe filling the view environed by a band of arcane orbital factorum rings fading to darkness on one side and glittering in white sunlight on the other. A Tenement Gate and a swarm of tugrigs twinkling near by.
No mistaking it.
Hymark 4!

A small purple planet, roughly halfway between Polton and Earth, Hymark 4 had been a productive factory world for many centuries. But then a revolution had started. 374LY away and as recently as 62ksec ago the E'rigrin of Hy, along with several other lesser species had attacked the Human populous and despite the horrific and near crippling number of their own dead, shattered the local Human governance and military. Later I had heard, a detachment of Earth's own was sent to quell the dissidents and nothing else had been heard since. Although for most of all colonised space this was many LY distant it was having repercussions all over the known galaxy. Just some 3ksec ago I had had an intensive 'therapy' session with Polton's commander. A highly strung woman in full possession of the usual human qualities. Hedonism, gluttony, self loathing. Hair scrapped back so tight into a bun it pulled the upper of her face with it while leaving the lower free to jiggle with her jabbering. Along with all the other utterances and fears that spilled out of her regarding the running of the moon, mostly centred around how everything that was wrong was not her fault, she had divulged a unique piece of information. A small detachment of Rangers had been deployed from a nearby military installation orbiting Nef, to protect against any possible E'rigrin disobedience.
“Of course it's just not necessary.” She had complained vehemently.
“We are short on essential supplies as it is. I ask you are we supposed to share?”
I suppose for her this was a rhetorical question. She had given me no time to answer at any rate just jabbered on, with her jowls wobbling, about how unfair it all was.
So Rangers were on route and once again the E'rigrin were talking of mutiny?
But this time the didn't seem to want to stop.

I had entirely forgotten, however briefly that Rouger was still sat across from me so intriguing were current events. As the noise in the Canteen was reaching a crescendo his voice, verging on a scream with spittle flying out in globules to spray the table and myself, brought about a swift silence.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.* You disgusting creatures shut the fuck up!”*
Hundreds of trio eyes locked on to the fat man as he huffed, face flushed red with a look of assured superiority. The other two Humans, I noticed, had left the Den at some point earlier, probably to escape the presence of Rouger.
“How is a decent Human supposed to even think with you freaks making so much noise?”
A fat finger pointed around accusingly.
The silence struck me like a glacier but Rouger seemed unmoved.
Hundreds of living E'rigrin and not the slightest murmur.
“Eat and be quiet.” Rouger finished with a jowl wobbling nod.
Turning back to me he spied his glass was empty and visible seethed.
“Blue Moon. Now!” He bellowed into the silence, literally shaking with great ripples of his mountainous flesh.
Every E'rigrin still looked on as the waiter rolled over with a fresh beverage. The fat man snatching at it and took a gulp.
With a barely perceptible glance, by Human standards, the waiter caught my eye before again rolling silently away.
Responsibility suddenly weighed on my silvery shoulders. But there could be no turning back.
To coin an ancient phrase from the mists of time and my memory. 'Si vis pacem, para bellum.'
Speaking for the first time I addressed Rouger.
“Perhaps we should go out to the balcony and... relax.”
Rouger looked up from his drink, then after a second making one wobbling nod of the head.
“Yes. I can't stay here with the common workers.” With much grunting he began extricating himself from the booth. By the time the balcony door was sliding back into place the E'rigrin had started debating again. Much quieter now than before but I noticed with smug satisfaction they were all voting on how to achieve their freedom.
How could they take control of their lives?

On the balcony, some 91 stories up above the surface of the hard moon, there was a slight breeze in the think air. Nef. Baleful and so large it's entirety could not be seen all at once, provided a sickly light that cast almost non existent shadows. Rouger made his way to the edge of the balcony before leaning heavily on the safety rail, looking out and down. I moved close to his side as he sighed.
“Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve all of this you know? Why did I get sent to this back rock?”
His gaze drifted upwards as if looking for star studded sky but found only more Nef.
“It's all so bloody unfair.” He droned morosely.
Silence stretched for a minute before he turned slightly to me. A genuine smile brightening his face.
“You know for a robot you ain't half bad. Probably the only friend I got out here.”
As my fist struck the railing connectors I was fully aware of my actions. No emotions for my kind. Just risk and chance. I was built to remedy those who were psychologically stressed, disturbed, lonely or suffering. And if I was to remedy any who asked? What if I asked myself to remedy the galaxy with an ultimate cure? One 'bad' creature at a time. To protect the 'innocent'.
Watching his fat body disappear over the edge, hearing his high pitched warbling scream spaced with hasty words as to my value as scrap metal and spare parts, it got me to thinking. I was thinking then about how for once, just once, I wanted to say that phrase, that I had heard so many others exclaim, always with the same unfounded note of despair. Say it and have somebody believe it. Even if we both knew it was a lie.
For comfort.
But the Verse knows not the difference between fair or unfair and cares little for comfort.
For as I am, they are but Human inventions.

Glossary.
E'rigrin. A genetically engineered organism for optimal construction in labour. Cheap to make. Cheep to keep. 'Productive as all hells bells.'
ksec. A standardised time unit in use across much of the know galaxy.
Mindgel A stimulant and slightly halucanatory synthetic drug.
Tenement Gate. A Human Habitation and Intergalactic Transportation Structure.
Terran. Of or relating to the planet Earth or it's inhabitance.
Tugrig. A perma-supraorbital cargo craft.
'Verse. The current existence of all that can be physically perceived. In antiquity. Universe.

Reflective commentary

I originally wrote notes for this story back in 2005 and later finished it for a creative writing course in 2010. It is based on an incident I had with a particularly obnoxious man from London during a formal dinner with two professional sci-fi writers (a dozen people in all around a big table in an upmarket Indian Resturant in Edinburgh's Haymarket district). The drive for the story was to put my distaste of that particular person into a form with which I might feel better about the experience and also live out my own fantasy of ridding the world of such a horrible person.
I chose to set it in the distant future and with a Sci-Fi themes because those are the areas I most often write about, my preferred literary genre. I write for myself before I write for anybody else.
Setting it in first person is simply a reflection that this is a story being told by myself, albeit vastly different from the story I might tell of the actual true life events, but I also wanted the reader to feel that this story was plausible despite it's outlandish settings.
From my original notes I had the story laid out, the feelings and morals mostly complete. When I chose to create a full story from what I had in my notebook I spent most of my time trying to describe the characters and the settings the most.
I wanted to tell a story of how slavery always leads to rebellion and about how we Humans are not as often as clever as we like to think. We abound at failing to learn from past mistakes. Most of us are also quite morally deficient. Only our innate ability to lie to ourselves keeping us comfortable and secure in a Universe that does not care for or often cater to our continued survival.

If you have any reasonable and constructive criticism or spot any grammar or spelling issues please let me know in the comments.

Once Upon a Blue Moon (Original Short Story)

Once Upon a Blue Moon

Reflective commentary