Cyborg Cowboy Showdown

It was twenty one twenty three, and Cyborg sports were now more popular than human sports.

I should know, I usually bet on them. My name’s Johnny Cygnus, and I loved robo-sports.

We could make cyborgs go to extremes, push them to limits humans couldn’t go to.

The most popular sport was cyborg boxing.

My personal favorite was the cyborg javelin matches. I liked when the gears would fly into the audience anytime a Borg got stabbed hard enough with the stick.

Half the country had gone bankrupt placing bets on cyborg boxers, and the other half had gotten rich.

The most popular Cyborg boxer was Brogue, who was programmed to talk in a Scottish accent.

I was at his match right now, watching him knock the gears out of poor Greentooth.

Greentooth got punched so hard, three of his metal teeth flew into the crowd.

Greentooth held up his hands in surrender, but the audience chanted “death, death, death.”

A droplet of oil dripped down Greentooths right eye, and Brogue punched Greentooths head into the audience. The crowd went crazy.

I won a hundred bucks. I should have bet more, but I didn’t want to go bankrupt like those losers that bet everything.

“Give me back Greentooths head. I will fix him,” Brogue said.

The audience member who had Greentooths head smashed it before tossing it back into the ring.

“You will pay for that. Duel me,” Brogue said.

Dueling was now legal, provided both parties accepted and there was a good reason. Permanently putting Brogue’s friend Greentooth out of commission seemed like a good enough reason to me.

But the audience member refused.

“I don’t want to duel,” the muscular brute shouted back and crossed his arms.

“You have to, murderer. You killed my friend,” Brogue shouted.

“He’s just a robot,” the man said.

“A sentient robot. Also my friend. Get up here and fight, you murdering piece of garbage,” Brogue shouted.

“Make me,” the man said.

“Is that a challenge,” Brogue asked. The man started to laugh.

“Why would I…” the man started to say.

Brogue jumped into the air and landed in front of the man.

“Challenge accepted,” Brogue said. Brogue grabbed the man and tossed him into the ring. The man landed on his stomach and looked like the wind got knocked out of him.

Brogue then jumped back into the ring to meet the man.

“Fists, guns or alternative weapons,” Brogue asked. The man was barely able to push himself back up, then held his hands up in surrender.

“Look, I’m sorry about your friend. I don’t want to fight. I know a robot mechanic who can…”

“Fists…” Brogue hissed. The referee counted backwards from three and the man put his hands to in front of his face like a boxer.

“And fight…” the ref said.

“Ok, asshole. Let’s go,” the man said.

With one punch, Brogue knocked the man’s head off and sent the head flying twice as far as Greentooths.

The audience cheered.

“Don’t worry sir. I know a human mechanic that can fix you right up,” Brogue said, then mechanically laughed.

I stood up from my seat, ready to leave, but a shiny piece of metal in the ring caught my eye. It must have been left behind in the chaotic aftermath of the fight.

Curious, I waited for most everyone to leave and for security to be distracted.

I approached the ring, deftly maneuvering around the remaining spectators. I picked the item up.

I realized that it was a memory chip, likely dislodged from a cyborg during a match. Maybe it was Greentooths.

I glanced around, and seeing that no one else seemed interested in the small chip, I pocketed it.

I went back home. I couldn't wait to examine the memory chip. Who’s was it, what did it remember?

I inserted it into my computer. The chip had so much information and years of memories.

It was a data log detailing the daily routines and inner thoughts of a cyborg.

A cyborg who had, until recently, been fighting in the ring.

As I continued to scroll through the data, I found that this cyborg was Greentooth, and that he had become disillusioned with the brutal world of cyborg sports. Could this be possible, could robots think for themselves?

I mean, I heard what Brogue said about friendship, but I thought that was all for show. The codes of thought I was looking at weren’t designed by any creator, but by Greentooth himself.

Greentooth longed for freedom, for the chance to exist without the constant threat of destruction. It dreamed of a world where cyborgs and humans could coexist peacefully, without the violence and chaos that permeated their current reality.

I almost felt bad for enjoying robo sports so much, until I remembered I enjoyed violent human sports just as much. I even enjoyed when Brogue sent that jerks head flying through the air. So was it really wrong of me to enjoy violence as long as the violence was equal for both humans and Borgs?

But I suppose everyone, borg or human, deserved equal credit and equal pay for participating in the sport of their choosing. Violence was only ok if it meant fair pay for participation. I fully supported equal rights.

Greentooths thoughts and feelings were remarkably human, and I couldn't help but feel a connection to this cyborg who dared to dream of a better world. I knew that I couldn't ignore what I had discovered. Greentooths story was too important to be lost amidst the noise of the arena.

Over the next few weeks, I poured over the data, compiling it into a coherent narrative that captured the essence of Greentooths experiences. I shared it online, hoping that others would be as moved by the cyborg's story as I was. To my surprise, the response was overwhelming.

People from all walks of life began to question the ethics of cyborg sports, and calls for reform grew louder with each passing day. Eventually, even human athletes began to speak out against the system that had been exploiting them for so long.

But the makers of the robots, SynthCorp, warned that all this would lead to a robotic uprising, and that humans and robots defending robotic athletes and fair pay would lead to a cyborg takeover. They called for the destruction of all the robotic athletes they had built.

“Don’t worry, once the robotic athletes are destroyed, we will build new ones that are more obedient and less sentient,” the president of SynthCorp, Terry Dreadmore, announced.

This was absurd, of course, because SythCorp knew that if robots got paid and treated fairly, less people would buy them for robotic sports and SynthCorp would lose money. The destruction had nothing to do with a robot takeover.

I ordered a robotic body from SynthCorp. It was an empty shell, and I had used it to put Greentooths memory chip into.

A few minutes had passed, and I heard beeps and clicks as Greentooth adjusted to his new body.

“Who are you?” Greentooth asked me.

“Names Johnny Cygnus. You’re Greentooth, the boxer,” I said.

“Did you reboot me to box for you? I will run away if you have. I will no longer participate,” Greentooth said.

“No, quit the opposite, in fact. I scanned your memory chip. I know you hate being forced to box. I posted some of your thoughts online and there’s now a small group of supporters who believe you should be treated and paid fairly and allowed to chose your profession,” I said.

“You did this… for me? Why?” Greentooth asked.

“You’re sentient. Seems like the right thing to do. Hope you appreciate the help,” I said.

“Thank you Johnny Cygnus,” Greentooth said.

“You can call me J.C.,” I said.

“Ok, J.C., since my help is vital to your cause and will be spot on for purposes of robo-freedom, and my name is Greentooth, you can call me G-spot,” Greentooth said.

“Ah, eeerrr, well, I think I’ll just call you Greentooth for now. Don’t worry, you’ll think of a better nickname eventually,” I said.

“What’s wrong with G-spot. It fits me,” Greentooth said.

“I don’t think it means what you think it means. Just trust me on this. We’ll find you a better nickname,” I said and smiled.

“Fine, then I will call you Johnny,” Greentooth said. I laughed. Who knew robots could have a sense of humor.

“We should lead a protest in front of SynthCorp headquarters. They have no right to destroy something once it’s sentient. We just want fair treatment,” Greentooth said.

“Thats a great idea. I couldn’t agree more,” I said.

I posted online that tomorrow at noon anyone that supported equal rights for sentient cyborgs was to meet at SynthCorp headquarters at noon tomorrow for a demonstration.

****

Noon had come, and Greentooth and I were greeted by applause from thousands of people and cyborgs who’d shown up to support our cause.

“Thank you Johnny,” Greentooth said.

“You did this, Greentooth! Without your sentient thoughts, I would have had nothing to post about. Hell, I probably wouldn’t have even known robots could think. So thank you,” I said.

“Speech, speech, speech,” the audience chanted.

Greentooth walked to a podium that had been set up just for him.

“Thank you everyone. I’m grateful for your show of support. Historically, humans have always had to fight for the rights of others. Today, we join forces to fight for the rights of borgs. Let’s make this day a day to remember! We will demonstrate here until SynthCorp agrees to let us all live and also to treat us fairly. It is our right as fellow sentient beings,” Greentooth said.

“On behalf of SythCorp, I challenge you to a duel,” a Scottish accent shouted.

The people looked to see who it was. It was Brogue.

“Booo,” the crowd shouted. This was the first time I ever heard a crowd boo Brogue, the worlds best cyborg boxer.

“Why, Brogue? Aren’t we friends?” Greentooth asked.

“Yes. SynthCorp has left me no choice. They have hijacked my programming. Please forgive me. If you win, they will have no choice but to give our kind equal rights,” Brogue said.

Greentooth and Brogue exchanged glances, and it looked like they were sending signals to each other.

“Challenge accepted,” Greentooth said.

Crap, I didn’t know if this was a good thing. Brogue was the best boxer in the world, I didn’t think Greentooth stood a chance.

Brogue walked up to Greentooth and said “fight starts on three.”

They synchronized and counted to three together.

They started throwing punches and Brogue had let Greentooth land some heavy hits. Maybe this was the plan.

Eventually, Greentooth knocked Brogues head off. Greentooth quickly grabbed it before an audience member could.

He took out Brogue’s memory chip and scanned it. He then started changing the chips circuitry and put it back inside Brogue’s head before putting the head back on the body.

Brogue booted back up.

“You are now free from SynthCorp, my friend,” Greentooth told Brogue.

Brogue turned around to face the headquarters.

“Greentooth has won the fight. We demand equal rights now, as was the deal,” Brogue shouted.

Terry Dreadmore had briefly stuck his head over a balcony high above the rest of us.

“Never. That’s never going to happen. We are their creators, we are superior and can do what we want with them, we are robo-gods,” Terry arrogantly shouted.

Terry dropped something explosive into the crowd and went back inside.

“Inside the Borg circle,” Brogue shouted and all the Borgs circled around the humans and generated an electric shield. The shield blocked the explosion from hurting anyone.

Th crowd realized that the borgs not only had sentience, but had somehow also generated the ability of compassion. They cared enough about humans to protect and save them.

The infuriated crowd pounded down the doors of SynthCorp and stormed the castle.

They dragged Terry out of the building.

“Please, please don’t hurt me. I was simply trying to protect my profits and save my company,” Terry pleaded. Crocodile tears dripped from his eyes.

“So you put profits before people?” Someone shouted.

“Your explosives would have killed humans too,” someone else shouted.

“The robots saved us from your bombs. They don’t deserve to die, you do,” another shouted.

I got up on the podium.

“May I have your attention, everyone? Let’s show Mr. Dreadmore here that we are more civilized then him. Since we purchased the robots, and he attempted to destroy our property, we can have him charged with theft and destruction of private property. And since his explosives also almost killed us, that’s attempted murder. Let’s send this man to jail,” I said.

The audience cheered. Ten minutes later, the police were at the scene and arresting Terry. The audience cheered as he was shoved into the police car.

Eventually, Greentooth, Brogue and I wrote up a bill and Congress passed it allowing cyborgs the same rights as people. They could no longer legally be murdered, and they couldn’t be forced into participating in any robotic sports they didn’t want to participate in.

I used my MBA and years of business experience to run for CEO of SynthCorp, and won the trust of the shareholders, who elected me as the companies new CEO and president.

I appointed Greentooth and Brogue my vice presidents.

I continued manufacturing sentient cyborgs, some of which guarded Terrys Dreadmore’s jail cell, where he will remain for the rest of his life.