Carl Throckhammer lived on the bottom floor of what was once a luxurious tower condo complex. It served as both his home and workshop, cluttered with gadets and inventions, both finished and broken. Before the war, Throckhammer was one of the top manufacturers of humanoid robots, both service and pleasure models. He got a government cortract for solider bots, and had them turned out by the thousands. Throckhammmer soon became disgusted with the war. It hadn't turned out like those "Terminator" movies, and that was by design. The solider bots nerver "learned", they were never given the chance to. They would simply execute the scenearios the human generals would plan out and program. Each time in the end, the result was always the same; neither side would really win, and more and more destruction was caused. Many innocent lives were lost as well. Finally, new leaders had decided enough was enough. That indeed, as a line from some old forgotten movie went, the only winning move was not to play. And the great genius Carl Throckhammer went into hiding.
Like Harry Lang, Throckhammer detested the new "society". Those living safe in their domes, not a care in the world, never really acomplishing much....and always knowing what their neighbor was up to at any given moment. At least in the old cities, priviacy was still very much respected. That priviacy was distrupted by the buzzing of his front door.
"Well, what is it??" a harsh voice came through the speaker. "Harry Lang to see Carl Throckhammer. I believe we're expected" came the reply.
"What's that?? --- Lang, you say?? -- Oh, yes yes.....It's about time! Just a moment."
A second buzzer went off and the door opened. Harry and Cricket went in.
It was one enormous room. All the walls and doors that stood before seemed to have been gutted out. Creations of every type were on the walls, and lined up on numbers of tables. Cricket noticed the many inert droids everywhere....or at least parts of them. Arms, legs, feet, hands, and heads, all of them disembodied everywhere. A chill run through her as she looked upon what could very well be her brothers and sisters. She gripped Harry's hand tight. Harry put his arm around his robotic partner and comforted her. "Yeah, I know kid. This place gives me the creeps too.", he said. "Hello???......Anyone here???", Harry called out. "That you Mr. Lang?", a voice echoed from a distant corner of the room. Harry looked over to a somewhat elderly looking man, his back to them. He seemed to be working on something. Harry answered the man, "Well that depends. Are you Mr. Throckhammer?" he asked. "I am", the old man replied as he rose up and turned to meet his prospective employee. He seemed suprised when he saw Cricket standing next to Lang.
As Throckhammer got up, Harry and Cricket could see the old man was indeed fixing something. It was a shiny golden bird.
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Next: The Offer
The Nightingale's Song - Part 3
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