Free Them Bots | A flash fiction story
33 of 💯
“Please, miss, step away or we will open fire,” the security bot said in a monotone. There was a wall of red bots protecting the entrance of the Atlanta Inc. headquarters, a crowd of protestors holding signs in front of the building. “Bot rights now,” “bots are people too,” and “stop bot slavery,” said the signs. A monster of a man walked by with purposeful steps, an empty burlap bag in his hand.
“I won’t move until that bitch Atlanta is down here herself,” Crash said.
The bot repeated. “Please, miss, step away or we will open fire.”
Crash stepped forward while the crowd chanted “free them bots” behind her. “We’re doing this for you, man,” she told the bot. “Don’t be a cog in the machine.”
The bot warned once more. “Please, miss, step away or we will open fire.”
“Do it,” she stepped even closer to the bot.
There was one solitary shot, a loud bang that made everyone duck. A forearm went flying off a body. Screams. Everyone started running, except the large man with the burlap bag. A few demonstrators grabbed the one-armed Crash and took her away — she was bleeding heavily.
The man calmly bagged the severed forearm and the bot warned, “Please, sir, step away or we will open fire.”
“As you wish,” the man strode away.
< Gushing Blood | Free Them Bots | Subway >
