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It Wasn't Hilda Humanoid Model 2333-5334-9098.

Updated on May 15, 2017

The Robot Was Furious

People contact me when their robots snap. The machines often become mouthy, angry, or make threats to physically harm their owners due to a technical malfunction.

This morning I received an urgent hologram from Mrs. Stone to fix Hilda. The customer was vacationing in Saint Tropez. She advised Mr. Stone couldn't shut the bot off and that the robot was furious it had to stay home.

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Karen Arnold (Artist)
Karen Arnold (Artist) | Source

The Communique was Triple Sealed

Interestingly, the communique was triple sealed to prevent any snooping. Which made the situation all the more intriguing.

I transmitted my acceptance of the job by standard gram - wearing a business suit.

Cuz even in 3015, one still had to play ball. Although I lived and breathed in a khakis shirt, Bermuda shorts, and sandals.

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The Exclusive Playground of Globe Hoppers

I boarded a shuttle to Trogastus at LAX with a diagnostic kit. Following the deposit of half the credits for the job, confirmation of my security clearance, and the security code to the Stone's house.

I was finally on my way to the exclusive playground of the globe hoppers and interplanetary trekkers; an artificial sphere located several hundred miles above the Earth.

Source

Up close, Trogatus's two massive circular rings and six spokes were staggering. The configuration reminded me of the steering wheels plastered on antique cars. And for a second, I could’ve sworn I saw a gigantic shimmering net hovering across the satellite’s dome.

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"So Alex, you're here to fix me?"

To my surprise Hilda greeted me at the door of the Tudor mansion. She was immersed in diamonds and wearing an evening gown.

“So Alex, you’re here to fix me?” she chuckled. Okay I thought, you're a darn good hacker. What else is up your sleeve?

publicdomainpictures
publicdomainpictures | Source

"Yeah," I replied. The high pitched voice, pointed ears, and gliding body movements threw me. This couldn’t possibly be a Hilda Humanoid Model 2333-5334-9098 I thought. If so, it was evolving into a new life form. Was the bot still online or was it an independent entity I wondered.

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She giggled. “Well first you'll have to turn me off.”

"No - first I need a bite to eat." I set the kit on a table and noted a glittering object above her head. It quickly vanished. I pondered whether there was a connection between it and the phantom net I'd seen earlier.

“I can prepare a meal for you.”

"Thanks." She was toying with me. I had to reel her in real slow and easy. The humanoid had already ran circles around the network system. And no doubt probably had plans for me too. “A glass of wine would be great.”

“How about a bottle of Domaine de la Romanèe-Conti-Romanèe Conti?”

"Are you sure?"

“Mr. and Mrs. Stone won’t miss it.” Her eyes narrowed. “They're whooping it up in Saint Tropez.”

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Saint Tropez (Wikimedia.org)
Saint Tropez (Wikimedia.org) | Source

I followed her down a flight of stairs to the wine cellar. On discovering the room and floor were reinforced with concrete, I quickly closed the cellar door. A mask of dismay coated Hilda's face. She raced towards me and stopped cold, shaking, and collapsing to the ground. "You - you!" The robot shut down. It's amazing what a little sand and gravel can do.

When I removed the bot's internal control panel, a gel-like matter spilled out and surprisingly all of its chips and circuitry were missing. I poked at the substance with a corkscrew. It disappeared and reappeared moments later. I replaced the panel, turned off the cellar light, and locked the door. I couldn't repair the machine. It wasn't a Hilda Humanoid Model 2333-5334-9098.

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Elisa Fiore (Photographer)
Elisa Fiore (Photographer) | Source

I grabbed a seat on the next available flight out of Trogatus. I had a hunch all the bots on Trogatus were in transition like Hilda. And that the net would get even with me for deactivating one of its own. I informed the pilot about my suspicions. She thought I was loony. But changed her mind when the web started chasing the shuttle. We were trapped in its mesh for a while but managed to escape. It chased us practically back to Earth before withdrawing.

After getting home, I conferenced Mr. and Mrs. Stone about the job and my discovery. They appeared quite distressed over my report and paid me double for my efforts.

Consequently, the habitat was abandoned by its well-heeled residents. They were fearful of the grid and the humanoid-aliens. The InterGlobal Federation placed the sphere on its No Fly Zone List. The rumors thrive concerning the possible destruction of the satellite. I hear Hilda runs the joint.

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© 2015 Irma Cowthern

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      Irma Cowthern 2 years ago from Los Angeles,CA

      Thanks a bunch...

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      NONI OLABISI 2 years ago

      Wow!!!! Excellent writing , vivid imagination ....