Saucy Robot Stories

By Metahuman Press

ONE HOT ROBOT!

Sam’s a mechanical man who lives in the Big Apple and enjoys the friendship of Augie, a hapless ex-janitor and Doona, a gorgeous girl reporter—and boy do they have adventures! Or is that misadventures?

SAUCY ROBOT STORIES offers up six terrific tales of the world’s first fully functional robot running amuck in the halcyon days of the early 1940s. He doesn’t know who built him or why, or what his purpose on the planet is, but with a little luck and the love of his pals he’s not going to let anything stand in his way of experiencing everything real life has to offer him in the big city...and beyond.

Creator Jim Beard (Sgt. Janus, Monster Earth, Monster Aces, The Lemon Herberts) has assembled an all-star line-up of authors: Sam Gafford, M.H. Norris, Travis Hiltz, Justin Bell, Aaron Smith, and Chuck Miller. They're spicing up the sauce with stories of larger-than-life gangsters, movie premieres, ghostly taxis, baseball hijinx, carnival freak shows, and the secrets of life and death. You’ll soon realize this ain’t your grandfather’s robot yarns!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Metahuman Press
• Release date: Apr 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370422937

Metahuman Press

Metahuman Press is a publisher of fine super-powered, action adventure and modern pulp fiction. Since 2005, MHP has brought new prose super-heroic stories to the world in a series of novels and anthologies ranging from the Lightweight franchise to the weirdness of Doc Claus and Presidential Pulp. Learn more at their official website MetahumanPress.com.

Book preview

SAUCY ROBOT STORIES

A Metahuman Press Anthology

Saucy Robot Stories Smashwords Edition © copyright 2017 Jim Beard. Published by Metahuman Press, Cedar Rapids, IA. Cover art by Eric Johns.

The Robot Shuffles Among Us © copyright 2017 Sam Gafford.

The Robot’s A Gentleman © copyright 2017 M.H. Norris.

The Robot Hails the Ghost Cab © copyright 2017 Travis Hiltz.

The Robot at the Plate © copyright 2017 Justin Bell.

Real Robots Don’t Wear Pants © copyright 2017 Aaron Smith.

The Luckiest Robot in the World © copyright 2017 Chuck Miller.

DEDICATION

For the Little Woman, my one and only saucy wench.

CONTENTS

A Little Spice in the Sauce by Jim Beard.

The Robot Shuffles Among Us by Sam Gafford.

The Robot’s A Gentleman by M.H. Norris.

The Robot Hails the Ghost Cab by Travis Hiltz.

The Robot at the Plate by Justin Bell.

Real Robots Don’t Wear Pants by Aaron Smith.

The Luckiest Robot in the World by Chuck Miller.

About the Authors

Introduction

A Little Spice in the Sauce…

See…sometimes pulp writers just want to have fun.

One of the joys for me in coming up with anthology concepts is zeroing in on what isn’t being done in the world of New Pulp and making something fun from it. SAUCY ROBOT TALES is a direct result of that kind of brainstorming.

Robots are a standard in science fiction, of course, and writers still use them in today’s works, but it’s somewhat rare to find mechanical men in contemporary or period settings. I had an idea to tell tales of the world’s very first robot, one who comes alive in the middle of late 1930s/early 1940s New York City, and with that idea firmly planted in my imagination I knew his adventures would have to be light-hearted—something else that isn’t being done much in New Pulp, but I didn’t want them to be outright comedies. A particular balance would have to be struck for it to unfold the way I imagined it would.

I’d also had the idea to try and resurrect the spicy or saucy theme of the good old days of the classic pulps, but was unsure of how to do it. It was then that I realized that robots and saucy could go hand-in-hand, and I was eager to see what would spring forth from such a, well, mating.

So, here it is: the book you now hold in your feverish, quivering hands.

The robot? You’ll meet him shortly, as well as his unique band of friends. The sauce? There’s that, too, but not too saucy…we had to draw the line somewhere. In the old days, spicy pulp magazine editors actually had rules concerning what their writers could and could not do, and stuck to them. Of course, what passed for risqué then is fairly tame now, but that’s okay because we’re not trying to burn the joint down, okay? A little spicy sauce to liven up the proceedings, but nothing too hot.

The authors I’ve lined up to help me tell these saucy robot stories are an incredible bunch. They got it almost immediately upon me telling them about the concept, and they all jumped in with relish to make this particular world of mine live and breathe. I tip my oil can to ‘em all.

Okay—enough of this. Let’s bring on the robot! He’s got some crazy, spicy, saucy fun to experience!

Jim Beard

August 2016

The Robot Shuffles Among Us

Sam Gafford

New York City

June, 1940

Across the ocean, a World War was beginning. Germany was moving against France and soon, Hitler would be walking the streets of Paris. England was enduring a blitz of epic proportions and the world would shortly change forever.

Even on the streets of the Lower East Side, the ripples of war could be felt. The papers plastered the news across the headlines and the radio was filled with special war reports and alerts. The term bomb drills had entered public consciousness. Still, there was an effort for life to move along as much as possible.

Superman had appeared two years earlier and taken the comic world by storm. So much so that a Superman radio show had started earlier that February. At almost any time you could go to the movies and see Laurel & Hardy, The Three Stooges, Our Gang or The Marx Brothers. Everyone listened to The Shadow or Glenn Miller on the radio. The Dodgers were in Brooklyn and all was right with the world.

The thoughts of such things as ray-guns, spaceships and robots belonged to the brightly colored pulps that decorated every newsstand and kids who could buy wonder for a dime. Except for what had been left behind in the tenement off 10th Street on that hot, June morning.

Now, what’re bothering us for this early, Augie? said one of the two patrolmen standing outside the building as Augie Detwiler opened the front door. Augie was only twenty-four years old but had already been the janitor of the building for a few years. Slightly short at 5’ 5" and stocky, Augie could also be clumsy on occasion and, if he had one fault, it was that he would always try to be helpful. He wore a Dodgers cap on his head and was rarely seen without it.

It’s the craziest thing, Pum’kin… Augie stopped after seeing the look that the patrolman was giving him, "um, I mean, Officer Plumkin, you have to see it to believe it."

The officer nodded as if he’d heard this all before. Is this different from when you saw the alien spaceship over the East River? Or the German spies at Mrs. Klein’s Deli? The other officer chuckled at this while Augie blushed.

"Swear to God, Officers, this one is 100 per cent bona fide. It’s like something outta Frankenstein!"

Sure, sure, Augie, said the other officer, and I’m Lon Chaney. How about we get a move on? I should be having my second cup of coffee at the diner by now.

Ok, it’s up on the fourth floor. C’mon up.

Just as they were about to close the door, a woman came running down the street towards them. She was wearing a sheer, summer dress that highlighted her long black hair. Her figure was full and the three men couldn’t help but watch her as she ran.

Catch the gams on this one, said the other patrolman who was instantly lightly smacked in the side by Pum’kin. Watch your manners, he said as the girl started to climb the stairs below them.

And who might you be, Miss? Pum’kin asked.

Slightly out of breath with her chest heaving, she responded, I’m Aldoona Seeton, reporter for the New York Bee. Where’s the fire, guys?

A reporter? groaned the other patrolman. Geez, that’s all we need.

I was at the station when this call came in. Sgt. Silver said I could tag along. I’m always looking for a story. She smiled and that pretty much resolved the issue.

Well, for all we know, miss, there isn’t even a story here to begin with, said Pum’kin.

Oh, you bet there is! Augie chimed in. You come and follow me for the story of a lifetime, Miss Seeton.

You can call me, ‘Doona’, she said sweetly. And you are?

Augie took off his cap and shook Doona’s hand a bit vigorously than necessary. Augie. Augie Detwiler.

Great, great, Pum’kin said. He’s Augie, you’re Doona, I’m Officer Plumkin and this is Officer Biro. Can we get a move on, please?

They walked up the stairs, heading for the fourth floor. Augie and Doona in front and the patrolmen behind. Is he always like this? Doona whispered to Augie about Pum’kin.

Nah, some days Pum’kin is cranky.

’Pum’kin’?

Scope out his hair.

As they walked, Doona tried to see what Augie meant and finally figured it out. Officer Plumkin’s hair was two colors; blond on one side and brown on the other.

Is that real? she whispered.

Yeah, but don’t mention it. He’s real sensitive about it which is why we call him ‘Pum’kin Piebald’

Doona laughed uncontrollably and Augie decided right there and then that he loved to hear her laugh.

Having a party up there, Augie? Pum’kin asked.

No, sir, Officer Plumkin. Augie and Doona smiled and shared their silent joke between them.

At the top of the stairs, there was only one door for the fourth floor. One apartment took up the entire floor. Welcome to the penthouse, Augie said as he unlocked the door.

Augie stood aside as the three others walked into the apartment. None of them were prepared for what they saw. Doona immediately regretted not bringing along a photographer.

What in the name of all that’s holy is this, Augie? asked Pum’kin. Officer Biro was silent, not believing what he saw.

All of the walls in the apartment had been removed so that the entire floor was one huge room. In the center was an enormous contraption that looked as if it had been constructed by an insane engineer. There were large blocks of machinery with lights that buzzed and crackled connected to huge glass tubes that snapped with electrical energy. The air smelled of ozone and arcs of lightning danced between huge receptors towering in the back of the room. Doona could feel the hair on her head start to lift from all of the static electricity in the air around them.

My sainted aunt, said Officer Biro in a hushed whisper.

Off to the side stood the landlord, Mr. Fields, who was not at all happy. He was a cranky man in the best of times and this was not one of them. His bald head was hidden under the battered bowler hat he wore and his ever present cigar jumped back and forth in his mouth as he talked like a bouncing ball in a sing-along cartoon. He was standing in front of a table on top of which was something that was draped with a long sheet, completely covering the object.

Ain’t this a fine ‘how do ya do’? Fields said to the officers as he waved his arms to show the complicated mess that was his penthouse apartment.

What is all this? asked Doona.

For the first time, Fields noticed the young reporter and a smile started to spread over his unshaven face. He tucked his thumbs into his vest pockets and tried his best to look appealing and failed. Did ya bring a date, Plumkin?

I’m Aldoona Seeton, from the New York Bee. Doona had already sidestepped Fields and was on her way to the table behind him.

Criminy! Augie, are ya trying to kill me here? Look, just shut off all this junk, will ya?

Augie ran over to the fuse box and flipped the switch. Everything suddenly shut off and the room appeared much darker due to the sudden loss of light.

What’s the story here, Fields? Why’d you call us?

Fields appeared flabbergasted. Whattaya mean, ‘why’d I call you’?? Look at this place! The nut that rented this apartment ripped out all of the walls and then put in all this crazy equipment. For all I know, there’s a Nazi bomb in there!

Plumkin shook his head. You’ve been listening to Augie too much. Look, there’s no crime here.

Suddenly, Doona let out with a gasp. Everyone turned to see her drop the sheet from the table onto the floor. There, lying on the table, was a naked man.

But it wasn’t any ordinary type of man nor was it a dead man. It had the look of a department store mannequin in that it looked almost life-like but there was something missing. The head was bald (there was not a shred of hair anywhere on the body) and the eyes were staring wide open. It had joints, like a mannequin but anyone could tell that these were more complex, more intricate than a display window dummy. And, the thing that distinguished it from those frozen displayers of fashion was that, unlike mannequins, this one was anatomically correct.

Fields immediately jumped forward, grabbed the sheet and put it back over the body. Whoa! Whoa! What do you think you’re doing, lady?

Plumkin rushed to the table and pulled the sheet down from the body’s head. What’s going on here, Fields?

Raising his hands in frustration, Fields exclaimed, That’s why I called you here! Look at this thing!

Everyone gathered around the table and looked down at the body. Augie reached out and tentatively touched it with his finger. It feels cold.

Plumkin immediately checked it for a pulse and found none so put the sheet back over the figure’s head. Is this some kind of joke, Augie? Did you put this here?

Augie shook his head so violently that his cap almost flew off his head. Not me! I’ve never seen this before.

Officer Biro looked at the body. Whatever this thing is, Plumkin, it ain’t alive. Some kind of doll, maybe?

Plumkin turned on Fields and Augie. All right, spill it! Who rented this place?

Fields started to hem and haw. I never met the bum. He rented it over the phone and left the signed lease in my mail slot. Augie’s the one who’s supposed to be managing this building.

Plumkin and Fields glared at Augie who started to stammer. He was a quiet guy. I hardly ever saw him. Thin fella with wire-rim glasses that looked like the bottom of Coke bottles. Always carrying a medical bag around with him so I thought he was a doctor or something. Said his name was ‘Henry Victor’.

So you never even heard him knock down these walls? Fields yelled. How am I gonna rent this place now?

I never heard anything like that. It’s not like I live here, you know, Mr. Fields. No one ever complained.

"Well, I’m complaining! I want all this junk outta here, you hear me?"

So you’re evicting the guy? asked Biro.

I haven’t had any rent in months! That’s why I came down here and made Augie open it up. You’re supposed to be on top of these things, ya ungrateful runt!

Fields made to go after Augie and quickly the two policemen were involved in holding the two men apart. There was a loud exchange of fast words between all four while Doona stared at the suddenly rising mound on top of the table. The sheet fell from the figure’s head and rested in his lap as it sat up and placed both hands on the side of the table for support.

Doona was about to scream when the body very calmly and distinctly asked, gentlemen, is there a problem? Instead, she fainted.

***

What the hell is this? said Fields. He was standing with the two officers, staring at the mechanical man on the table. Doona had been placed on a nearby chair by the policemen and Augie had brought her a glass of water from a nearby sink. She sipped the water as she slowly awakened but Augie’s attention was split between her and the thing that was sitting up and talking.

I am an automaton, it said. Created to perfectly mimic man in every way. At that, he moved off the table and stood upright… and the sheet fell to the floor again. Doona’s eyes widened at the sight.

Aw, jeez, Pum’kin said, not again! He picked up the sheet and draped it around the mechanical man who appeared quite confused at the act. Will you watch yourself? There’s a lady present!

This appeared to baffle the automaton.

I don’t understand. If she is uncomfortable then perhaps she should shed her clothing as well?

Doona blushed.

Fields was losing his patience. Augie, I saw some clothes in the back. Hurry up and dress this mannequin, will ya?

Augie looked at Doona quickly and she gave him a quick nod to show she was okay and quickly drank the rest of the water from her glass. She’d suddenly become very thirsty.

What’s an ‘auto…’, ‘auto…’, whattayacallit? Officer Biro asked.

Quickly, Augie had returned with a set of clothing which he set to dressing the mechanical man in. He’s a robot.

The other men looked at him quizzically.

You know, like in the pulps? A mechanical man? They’re in all the science fiction stories, too.

I prefer the term ‘automaton’, if you don’t mind, the robot said. My functions are far more elaborate than any robot.

Get him, Officer Biro said. He’s a snooty robot to boot!

Doona stood up and looked at the robot. Augie had clothed it in a white shirt with a brown, checkered sweater vest and a pair of light tan slacks. He couldn’t find any shoes or socks. She walked up and stared at it and it stared right back at her. What’s your name?

The robot thought for a moment. I do not have one. My functions only began when I heard these men arguing. Before that, I knew nothing.

Fields jumped right in. Hold up there. You mean you don’t know the fella who rented this place?

Most assuredly I do not. I am not even sure why I am here. Have you awakened me to perform some function? Higher mathematics, perhaps? Industrial construction? Sexual congress?

Whoa, there, fella, said Pum’kin, that’s enough of that now. I think that we’re going to have to take a trip down to the station.

Biro whispered to Augie, What did he say about ‘Congress’? Does he think we’re in Washington?

Augie shrugged. He truly had no idea what was going on around him.

Fields immediately got in front of Officer Plumkin. "Now, you just hold your horses there, Officer ‘Pum’kin’. I’m owed three months back rent. Near as I figure it, everything in this place belongs to me now in payment of that debt. So this thing, he motioned contemptuously to the robot, is my property."

What are you? Augie shouted. Some sort of plantation master? Don’t you know Lincoln freed the slaves? You can’t take possession of a person!

What in blazes are you talking about, Augie? asked Fields.

Lincoln, Abraham, announced the robot, Sixteenth President of the United States. Born February 12, 1809. Assassinated on April 15, 1865. Under Lincoln’s guidance, the Emancipation Proclamation was issued on September 22, 1862, and declared ‘all persons held as slaves in the Confederate states will thenceforth, and forever, be free.’

Everyone stopped and stared at the robot although Doona and Augie both smiled a bit.

How did he know that? asked Officer Biro.

I think, Doona replied with a smirk, "that the better question is how you didn’t know that?"

This makes no difference! Fields shrieked. "This ain’t a person! It’s a thing! And I got a right to take it and exhibit it or rip it into pieces for scrap if I want." Fields reached over and grabbed the robot by his sweater vest.

I think that would be unwise, the robot said as he grabbed Fields wrist and slowly began to squeeze.

I am not a piece of furniture, sir. He squeezed a little tighter and Fields began to wince. I am not to be sold, discarded or junked. While I may not know my creator’s purpose, I am sure it was not to become a commodity.

Pum’kin stepped in. All right now, he said as he tried to remove the robot’s hand from Field’s wrist. You’ve made your point. But, in the meantime, I think it’s better if you come down to the station with us while we try and sort this all out. Agreed?

The robot relented and opened his hand. Fields gasped and rubbed his wrist tenderly, checking for broken bones.

"You take that thing anyplace and you’ll be