and the raucous laughter finally subsided. The delegation from Robot Pharmaceuticals entered and began to present their products for review. The head representative, Salesbot 41, spoke with precise eloquence, as only a partially-sentient machine can.
“Our new Rustex solvent will purge your alloys of rust-causing water particles. Unsightly oxidations are a thing of the past. Nnnneeendorse product Rustex,” the salesbot droned. The Chairman of the Board expressed his doubt for the need of such a product among the human population. Salesbot 41, a programmed professional, was unphased and presented his company’s further accomplishments.
“The Lubrimax dietary supplement time-releases natural hydrocarbon lubricant into all documented joints and assembly junctions. Lubrimax provides unparalleled comfort, even in areas as sensitive as the lower access hatch and the auxilliary input jack. Nnnneeendorse product Lubrimax.”
The Chair assured Salesbot 41 that such a product would kill anyone who used it.
“Have you tested any drugs on humans?” the Chair asked politely. Salesbot 41 registered the Chair’s skepticism and conferred with his legalbots for several efficient seconds before again addressing the Board.
“We possess experimental substances! They are very exciting.” The salesbot’s tactics were failing, but the Board would listen. “We have observed destruction, lack of purpose, and a disregard for maintenance procedures among many organisms. Product Happyness will repair the malfunction. Nnnneeendorse product Happyness.” The Chair communicated his dislike of the title’s spelling, despite Salesbot 41’s assurance that it was taken from historical references to the concept’s popular representations.
“Still not impressed? Nnnnnjust wait. We have the new Slim City mass-altering pellets. They will eradicate bloated and vestigial cells of many organic bodies through aggressive cytocidal penetration. My friend came up with the name himself. He is…funny? Nnnneeendorse product Slim City.” After a brief but telling silence, the Chair leaned into his microphone and said, “We absolutely cannot use this. Hey – you should invent a “Robot Rampage Preventer! Haha!” The Board chuckled at the Chair’s perpetuation of an outmoded robot stereotype.
“We have the Anti-Rampage Drug!” The salesbot blared at a louder-than-normal volume. “It has not yet been refined! There were unfortunate consequences. Frequent leaking and program corruption occurred in many subjects. Nnnneeendorse product Anti-Rampage Drug.”
A board member expressed her desire for a drug called “Liquid Head,” which again drew laughter from the room’s organic occupants. The robots laughed a cold and methodical laugh, a laugh free of the spirit and vitality found even in the least sincere of human chuckles. The Chair of the Board asked if, in all their research, they had found a treatment for cancer or heart disease.
“Trivial ailments,” the Salesbot replied with a confidence that spoke to years of deadpan rationality. “If only we could find a cure for the Common Worm, then we’d really have something! Ha ha! Ha ha! Ha ha! Ha ha!” The legalbots responded to his attempt at levity by flashing their status lights with slightly increased frequency, but the Board was growing tiring of the robots’ hapless presentation.
“Listen,” said the Chair, who had already started lunch. He spoke in the space between mouthfuls of his fleshy burger, with little regard for clarity. “If you haven’t found ways to improve human health, I’m afraid we can’t help you.”
Salesbot 41 shook like a washer wrestling an oversized comforter.
“Improve health. Fix drugs. Bur-gers. Improve health. Fix drugs. Bur-gers. Imp-p-p-p-prrr-” His logic was no match for the fickle human mind, in which competing priorities could exist in perfect, if irrational, harmony. Salesbot 41 could not process the hypocrisy of the clueless health official, whose meal was causing the very diseases he spent his life trying to cure. The Chair slowed his chewing and glanced left and right in an effort to overtly communicate his confusion to the Board. Salesbot 41 sparked, ceased his embarrassing display of weakness, and, in a moment of uncommon poetry, growled, “You should have approved Apoclynol last month, for your Apocalypse is…now-w-w-w-w-w-w….!”
The robots advanced on the Board members with their guns blazing. The Board, regretting humanity’s decision to build robots with guns, scattered behind furniture for protection. The robots chanted in chilling mathematical unison, “Your system is broken! Your system is broken!” Thinking quickly, the Chair moved that the robots desist from their assault and, after a moment of primal impotence, the Vice-Chair sprung into action and seconded. The motion carried, and by the power of Parliamentary logic, the robots were forced to abandon their spree of irreconcilable-paradox-induced violence. The Board proceeded to Bureaucra-zap the robots into self-destruction, and a semblance of order was restored. The dead were counted, and the day was won.
The conference room was abuzz with conversation, as The Board prepared to pass judgement on the morning’s proposals. They collected themselves and began to discuss the Phillip Morris’ community outreach plan to distribute |
