Story originally written as a response at r/WritingPrompts (u/PrimitivePrism)
Prompt:
A month ago a mysterious, indestructible robot started appearing at political rallies of international leaders. He does nothing except humiliating them by throwing pies in their faces. You are the leader of a small island nation and the robot announced to visit you tomorrow.
Response:
I am loathe to admit that I am frightened by anything, especially not to the hungry ears of those who would spread word amongst the populace. I didn’t gain the presidency of Perimonia, this fertile island of my birth, by showing fear.
But I do feel it.
That robot scares me.
No one knows where it came from, or how it crosses borders. Some say it can walk along the seafloor, emerging at remote beaches and marching to the rallies from there. It’s believed it can navigate the wildest forests and tundra, and it has been known to cross through the Himalayas to reach China from India. It must schedule its travels precisely using some combination of AI and online access to rally schedules, taking into account the time needed to traverse the many environments between it and its next destination.
Tomorrow it will arrive. Nothing will stop it. Its exterior, hypothesized by scientists to be made of woven carbon nanotubes, titanium and diamond, cannot be impacted critically by any known physical weapon. In addition, there is a belief that even if a military managed to destroy it, its destruction might automatically trigger something dubbed “The Last Pie,” which could be anything from a nuclear launch on the capital of the offending nation, to indiscriminate chemical weapon attacks on the populace.
Yes, I fear that godforsaken robot. That menace. But not for the pie. I do not fear pies. I do not fear losing face to a creamy dessert. The approach of the robot is an inevitability, yet that is not how my supporters feel, nor my party. No. For them the idea of me getting hit in the face with one of those pies is unacceptable. It’s true that many world leaders and prospective leaders, even of the most powerful nations on Earth, have taken the pie – but Perimonia is different. Her people are different. Passionate. Proud. Political. Immensely, immensely political.
No, I do not fear pies. My fear is of what the robot will do to reach me. Its programming is cold, inflexible, and its calculations cruel. If people stand in its way, if they act to impede its progress – or, God forbid, attack it…
Beijing, Dallas, Calgary, New Delhi, Warsaw… We all saw what happened. Who can ever forget? Even when most of the carnage was removed from the main social media platforms, the videos still existed in mass all over the internet. Gore sites loved them in particular. A Tor browser could you get any angle you wanted. So many phones recorded what happened in those places, and, when their owners were left as glistening trails of guts and screaming torsos and piles of bone and sinew, those phones were still found and collected by the sneaking ghouls of our societies. It’s amazing how many people’s passwords consist only of the number 1, but even more amazing that there are people that will force the severed upper body of a dying human being to press a thumb to their own dropped phone before they expire. All to get that footage shot from inside the crowd. Footage of the robot’s slaughter.
People had stopped standing its way after Warsaw, of course. Warsaw totaled more than 100,000 dead. It took the robot less than five minutes. Then it strode up to the podium where Prime Minister Kaminski stood in the shock that would later give way to his utter madness, removed a perfectly chilled coconut cream pie from its inner cavity, and lobbed it into the man’s face.
I’ve begged my people not to stand in the way of the robot, whether they are followers of me or my rival. I’ve pleaded on national television for them NOT to deter that machine! Yet they are full of pride! The pride of our stalwart island! Our ancient home! They say this is war. Armed with machetes, guns and steel chains, they are convinced they can put an end to this robot once and for all, to protect their leaders from humiliation.
And despite my grief, I must admit: I am proud as well. Proud of them – of these people that have defended this mountainous, generous land, glowing like an emerald in the vast sapphire, ever since our ancestors landed on these shores in the time of the gods.
I will watch them – all who turn up tomorrow. I will do them the honor of watching them die under the robot’s many blades, its bombs, its lasers, its ultrasonic weapons that scramble brains and shatter skulls. It’s the final and greatest act of respect I can offer. And then, like Kaminski, I will take my pie.
