Little Blue - Short Story - Mech Donkey
My first science fiction work from way back in the day. I was looking at the end-of-life scenario for future machinery. Writing it in 2000 I had no idea what to do with it, so I didn't!
I pulled it out in 2004 when I started Battle of the Titanium Horse. But again it got hidden. If it amuses you for five minuets, then it's now in a better place.
Little Blue
It stands there quietly at the end of the shed, paint knocked off and generally scarred by its life's work. Its four legs are splayed to prevent it from being accidentally knocked over as it waits. Its claw feet are fully opened to protect the actuator rams from rust, three toes forward, and one back. The ends of the claws are not visible, the pressure of two tons having pushed them deep into the earth floor.
Deep lateral scars show in the metal hoops that protect the rotating shoulder joints, one of which shows signs of an oil leak. The oil makes a clean run downward from a protecting rubber boot, cutting through the thin layer of dust, before dripping off the knee-joint onto the floor. The knee itself is a work of art, a duel joint in one, about a foot round, allowing any leg to be used as robotic arm. It matches the rest of the machine in a fully rotational, load sensing, never complaining monster with huge strength.
The head, if such a description can be used, protrudes dramatically out of one end of the robot. One of its metallic ears is pushed into a life support socket, feeding oil and power as it rests. Below the head sits the tool adapter, protruding in complicated form from the body with various latches and holes. It finishes in a rusty tow hook.
What would you like today? rock breaker, blade, bucket,welding head? All carried through doors, passages, up stair wells and down tunnels. All day, all night, every day, anywhere.
The body makes the whole machine look less like an animal than the four legs and head might imply. No multi turning twisting spine, no fur, no spirit. Just one large joint in the middle allowing tight turns without ease. Its purpose is to give a viable hip action between the two halves, to aid walking. This large metal girth ring forces a ramble of armoured fibre optics, air and hydraulic lines into untidy bundles down its centre.
At the back hangs a black diesel engine with bent exhaust pipe. No hyper drive, no nuclear power, just a plain diesel engine; noisy, oily and severely rubber mounted to prevent important little pieces being shaken to bits. Behind it is a curved steel push plate, an attempt at a rump, through which peer two reverse cameras, looking through bullet proof glass.
On the top of the machine a large lifting eye protrudes, just incase you need it lifted on top of a building, or need to string it up because it's gone mad. Only the bravest would tackle a wild robot. Even fail-safes go wrong.
The scratches on the concrete yard outside show its past trips to work, but none are fresh. An open panel shows the reason why. A metal window into its brain, its wire guts hang out through the aperture, finishing in an array of plugs and sockets. Deep inside the open body little lights blink periodically, presumably looking for the missing organs. It waits patiently for repair to continue its un-ending crusade, one in thousands, one on its own.
Written October 2000,
Revised for English April 2004 at the start of the 'Battle of the Titanium Horse'
Edited May 2015 for release.
TeamIdris