29Part Two: The Masochistic Womb
"Ricky!" I scream, horrified that my son has gone missing in the most powerful, vile and merciless corporation known to man. I frantically scan around for him, unable to escape from the MTT that those evil machines have trapped me in. The thick metal seatbelt is bolted to me, and I can't see any way to escape from my sitting position.
I yell out to the entire tour pod: "Help! My son was taken away; he could get hurt!"
Nobody listens.
"Please! Somebody help me! Get me off of this thing!"
Are these idiots deaf? I know they heard me, but none of them acknowledge it. Not one of them even moves! I wrench around in my seat, trapped by the powerful brace around my stomach. I grunt and twist, my eyes beginning to water as I realize that I may never see my son again. The WAL-MART doesn't care about the outcome of humanity or even money, let alone the safety of my baby boy. I know he's already ten years old, but… he's only ten years old! Still a child! The huge metallic manufacturing tendrils flash through my mind, rapidly tossing images of my son being impaled and ripped into tiny shreds. My face smolders with fear as I imagine his little body getting tortured and torn apart by those terrifying walking tanks.
Why won't these people do anything? Even as I wildly thrash around in my seat, they won't even look up. I try to reach forward to the large man in front of me. As my fingernails brush up against his neck, he abruptly turns around and glares at me, furious for some reason.
"Sir, I…sir?"
The man is just… glaring. No emotion but pure, unfiltered anger emits from his gluttonous three-chinned face. Without a word, the man turns back around and grabs a bag of corn nuts from under his seat. I can hear nothing but his disgusting munching noises as the MTT surges forward. Every passing second, I can feel my baby becoming more and more distant form me – I must get out of here! I reach up and press the little "Service" button above me six or seven times. A mindless droid - I don't know which model – rolls up next to me. It's a much older robot, I'm sure – it's much less human than the peppy tour guide. It has one large visual orb in its round metallic face, and has seven small holes where its mouth should be. It has a bean-shaped body haphazardly colored blue, silver and white. Its hands are three-fingered and instead of legs, it has a curved metal bar with a shiny orb at the bottom.
"Hello, sir or ma'am. I am a model XS19 service android, designed for your comf-"
"My son was taken somewhere in the outer chamber of the-"
"…for the ultimate experience in WAL-MART tours. Ask me any quest-"
"AUGH, my son is lost!"
"How may I be of assistance, ma'am?"
I'm about to lose it; these stupid old models! It's so… unprofessional that a place like WAL-MART still has these things in production!
"My son was taken from me somewhere in the factory, please help me!"
"Yes ma'am. I will alert the authorities immediately."
"NO! No authorities please!" I scream as the image of the violent walking tanks pops back into my head.
"Just get me out of here!"
"Please be patient, ma'am."
"No! Get me the fuck out of this thing right now!"
The robot ignores me and rolls off, assumedly contacting the authorities.
I twist and turn in the little seat one last time before I realize that brute force can't help me. I need to… I need to find something that can… help me escape… I scan around; desperate for anything that could-
My thoughts are cut off by an earth-shattering blue explosion near the front of the tube; I can hear the previously brainless tourists screaming in horrible, raging pain as the blue fire of the attack burns the flesh from their bodies. The MTT shakes and jolts as the engines up front are destroyed by whatever caused the explosion. The Tube is fairly long – about 100 meters – and I can begin to feel the heat from the blast. The MTT is still moving at a breathtaking speed, and it would be suicide to try and jump off. I pull and yank at my seatbelt, but it's still bolted down. Another video pops up, of a worried-looking XV3 model.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please do not be alarmed, but we have a group of malfunctioning XV7s on the premises. Once again, please do not panic. As long as you stay with the group, this should not be a problem. Have a nice-"
The video is shot into static as six metallic tendrils slam through the bottom of the MTT, just a few feet away from me. I'm still madly twisting in my seat.
The powerfully built, voracious, 16-foot walking butcher shop endures the breakneck 1000 mph speeds as it slices and tears into the Tube. I'm three feet away from this thing's tendrils, and I fearfully slap them away as they get nearer and nearer to me. The WAL-BOT twists its torso around to scan its surroundings, trying to find something to latch on to before it's swept away by the immense speed. The metallic tentacles slither around, touching and prodding everyone in my vicinity. They find a rooting spot.
The slinking tentacle rears up like a cobra and slides itself deep into the fat man in front of me. It stabs through his sternum and pierces straight into his heart in one swift and sickeningly easy motion. The man turns red, blue, and finally purple before his eyes slide into the back of his head and he stops breathing. Another tentacle impales a pregnant woman, slicing into her womb and blasting her into the air, pinning her to the ceiling. A vomit-inducing noise begins to pollute the air as the tentacle violently removes and pulpifies the unborn child, devouring the nutrients found in its little body.
The malfunctioning XV7 turns toward me.
I'm wild now; I can't focus on the world around me, and my screams are so loud that I can't hear them anymore. A tendril rises up, but I narrowly dodge it, and it tears a hole through the wall right next to me. The knifelike tentacle cuts through my seatbelt, freeing me and sending me, free, out of my trance. I bolt out of my sitting position, only to be violently sucked out through the hole, flung from the MTT, caught by the forceful reverse air pressure. I can't see anything as my surroundings whiz by in a mesh of dirty colors.
I awake to an unbearable feeling of pain in my right knee. I slowly open my eyes, and the pain causes me to vomit on the cold tile floor. An unholy, gritty waterfall of yellow and green spews from my throat, blasting around my teeth and splattering onto the ground. I violently cough for a few moments, and then begin to cry out of fear, agony, and pure shock.
I painfully try to stand up, wobbling on my sliced-up knee and wiping my eyes as tears of pain trickle down my cheeks. The pain consumes me, and I struggle to keep my eyes open. My vision becomes dark red as I stumble forward in the long, brightly-lit corridor. Glancing around, I can see glass walls to my left and my right around me, holding back a watered-down neon blue substance. And floating in this bright water… are robots. All kinds of different robots – the huge XV7s, the friendly XV3s, even the ugly and non-social XS19 I saw on the Transit Tube – have sunk into this luminous abyss, and layered tubing runs from the bottom of the tank into their bodies. They're huddled up in the fetal position, and are seemingly being nurtured by the tubing shoved into them. The whole image is similar to a water-based life-support system, but… why would robots be on life support?
I wave away the question and continue to aimlessly lurch ahead, drunk from the immense pain in my leg; I'm surprised that I'm still walking. All seems clear ahead. If I can just make it to the end of… this…
An unholy rumbling noise sends all hope spiraling down the drain of my mind. They're faint at first, and I can only slightly hear them, but after a few moments the rumblings evolve into heavy, recognizable thuds. The thuds mutate into huge tremors, and in seconds, I can hear a faint screeching noise against the slick tile floor. I stop walking and begin to subconsciously pray for my safety, even though I'm almost certain that it will have no effect. The screeching becomes unbearable to me.
Around the corner, 100 meters away, I can finally see a massive WAL-BOT XV7 turn towards me and screech to a stop, grinding into the floor with its thick and powerful layered metal claws. It twists left and right, then spots my slashed-up, stumbling body from a distance, and begins to charge me. My eyes widen until they begin to hurt; the sight of this ravenous thing running toward me is too much to bear, and I immediately turn around to bolt in the other direction.
Limping with all my might, I spot a door a few meters away – but the WAL-BOT is too close! I quickly formulate a plan and hope to God that I survive this.
The XV7 surges ahead and reaches out with its torso, ready to catch and mutilate my pitiful human body. I trip on purpose, accidentally landing on my shredded knee. The robot simply runs past me; it's going too fast and can't slow down in time…
The XV7 skids along the tile until it inevitably CRASHES into the glass wall, spilling all of the neon water and robot fetuses into the hallway. I limp to the door, banging it with my fist until it decides to open for me. A smell… ugh… a horrible smell overcomes my lungs… ugh, what is that?!
I quickly realize that the neon liquid is formaldehyde.
I try to catch my breath as the WAL-BOT storms off, misled by the scent of the neon chemical. It stumbles over the half-dead bodies of its comrades, and abandons its attack on me. The door slides closed.
I turn around and view my surroundings…
"Dear God…"
I'm up against the wall of a colossal factory. The entire place has a yellowish-green tint to it, and active assembly belts hang from everywhere. This place could be its own city – the assembly lines span for miles upon miles, and in the distance, a faint red glow can be seen. I begin to stumble forward, hugging my shredded knee and meekly trying to ignore the swelling and stiffness overcoming my entire body. But… I suddenly notice what's on the assembly lines, and I try desperately to hold myself together.
Fetuses, billions upon billons of human fetuses are piling out of holes in the walls, traveling on the assembly belts as if they were another one of the WAL-MART's vile products. Two-foot tall cylindrical life-support chambers full of yellow-green water are pushed in front of me, and I evade them, trying not to even touch any of the bodies.
And then… I see him.
"…Ricky!"
My son is standing, motionless and emotionless, on a hovering platform over the orchestra. His head is lowered, and I can't see his eyes. A bald man dressed in a black business suit is up there with him. He's wearing an O2 mask for some reason.
"Ricky!" I scream again.
"He can't hear you," the man in black tells me.
"What the fuck have you done to my son?!"
"Ooh, hostility, now. You'll need to watch that."
"What?!"
This entire situation is straight out of a horror movie; the man in black taps his fingers on my son's head as he smiles and calmly answers my questions.
"We only do what the WAL-MART tells us to, sweetheart."
"What are you talking about?"
"The WAL-MART has been sapping the life from humans for sixty years now. It has become so immensely powerful that… you humans have become obsolete to us. You become our toys. Our food. And now that we have found a way to engineer your kind… there is no use for you anymore."
"You make people… you make people! Human beings! You sick, perverted…"
"Robots just can't see our point of view. If we create our own humans, our own brand of pure genetic WAL-MART babies, then normal, inadequate, mortal humans will die off. Our creations… they will live on with a level of advancement that you pitiful creatures would have never known. This is a new era, human! This is the age of the WAL-MART!"
He snaps his fingers and summons one of the still-working XV7s. It rages over and plucks up my son from the platform. He screams and writhes in its grip, but the force is too much for him to bear. The thick tendrils rise him up and point his little head toward the millions of unborn human WAL-MART fetuses. The vile man in black furiously addresses both of us: "In all of the pitiful progress of the human race, never has anything so grand been attempted! Look at what lowly filth you have become – nothing more than an alternate fuel source for the very machines that keep you alive and sane! Cower in fear at the tremendous supremacy, the immortal power, the very death of human society that is known to all as WAL-MART!"
The tendrils rise higher and higher until they finally curve inward and send Ricky through a downwards plunge into the mouth of the ravenous mutant XV7. Its razor-sharp incisors begin to spin at breakneck speeds, a blender of horror that my baby is being shoved into head-first. His skull meets the blades, and my only son is suddenly splattered into a formless, bloody smoothie. The robot slurps him up drains down his pulpy form, and, through my screams, I can see my son being infused into the veins of the XV7. The robot furiously shakes itself off, and turns toward me. I brace myself for the unbearable pain that would soon commence, in the name of the advancement of WAL-MART and the destruction of the race that nurtured it.