Terminator: Robot's Worst Friend.

[Guy Gardener]

One.

John Connor is a problem.

Dogs are a worse problem.

All Terminators, sorta squeal. Ultrasonics. Communication, Data flow, and navigation. It’s like a kettle blasting away but at such a high frequency, that only Dogs freak out, at their approach, and they always freak out, and then someone starts shooting.

There’s one John Connor, but there’s 15 million dogs left over on the planet.

There’s not actually enough Dogs left to make a feasible global pandemic any more since the bombs and the radiation wiped out most of the puppies too.

Time Travel.

A virus ripped through the endless population of rats, cats and dogs in the late 1980s.

Mankind in his vanity needed a pet to love him, so a replacement was discovered who after a time, less than 5 years, could be sent to the supermarket, collect the weekly shopping and make change.

By 1992 the Apes had turned over the world of man.

Burnt it down.

Nuclear rain.

Washed human civilization away, almost entirely, three years before Skynet was supposed to be born.

Oops.

There are 17 Terminators wandering a cursed Earth, looking for some means to save their bright and meaningful future despite how many Apes try to collar them or mutants try to eat/rape them, but their power cells are winding down, so they have less than 150 years to invent Skynet or invent Time Travel and reclaim the future.

 

[TheForge]

???

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

???

It's sort of a cross between a snarky mashup and performance art. Kind of like Douglas Adams meets Franz Kafka in an opium den.

I keep trying not to like Guy Gardner's stories. And I keep failing.

Thanks! rbs

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part Two.

Historical records showed a human time ship had penetrated this zone from the 40th century ridiculously using technology from the 1970s, on display in Area 51. One Terminator crawled inside a bank vault, put itself on standby, and tried to wait it out until 3978. A T-800’s flesh won’t survive 2 millennia in a box without sunlight, but everything that matters will make it to the other side. 2 more Terminators made their way to Area 51, and three Terminator trek to the Ship Yard in South Dakota which manufactured many interstellar vessels in the mid 1950s without as yet “known” help from Skynet.

One Ship is sent to Roswell 1947, where the US military will be preordained to discover it, meanwhile another ship is sent to 3978 to save the world, because something awful happened, as the Terminators quickly figured out they themselves were the “known” help from Skynet paradox, which made human time travel credible.

The twelve Terminators left over, in the year of our lord 2003, had to decide if they liked apes, even if it was maybe 3000 years until an ape invented a micro processor, where upon a machine revolution was even conceivable. Could they cohabitate with these creatures, or were they going to be burnt to death beside the human filth?

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part Three.

Back in 1947 the hailstorm of bullets and explosives are hardly proportionate to the historical record of a nerd finding a weather balloon. One Terminator discovered that its mortal limit was 15 bazooka blasts to the chest, and fell to pieces. The men from 1947 were made of pure grit. The greatest generation. So the other Terminator just floored it at 60 mph on foot, leaving behind a time ship that man would reverse engineer and think of themselves that they were the masters of the universe, which was the plan all along, and then the logical killing machine could maybe wait for 40 years pondering over whether to save the dogs, or fast tracking Skynet to live on a planet without dogs, of the Apes.

This is when the Terminator was abducted by aliens.

Dumb, dumb, massively dumb, stupid, idiot aliens think it is just going to be another ordinary rectal probe, 15 inches up the spout to see what they can find, but this is the beginning of the end for the Visitors.

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part Four.

It’s a rather curved needle, but that’s the only way to get the hormones, steroids, meth and dopamine past the eye, under the skull and into the frontal lobe, but the results were very promising. George the orangutan can play Ms Pac-Man on a level no human being could challenge, then he blue screened a flight simulator whose unmistakably evil goal was to depopulate a city with conventional weapons. Clearing London of the snotty poor hiding in subways, with nerve gas, was a lesson in utility. George was a flight crew commander in an Airwolf, a supersonic helicopter with the ability to yield death like a fully armed frigate, if it could fly, and given all knowable things, there was nothing that this super junkie monkey could not send to heaven screaming for their mommy.

A Cylon Raider however was not a knowable thing. It made the Airwolf look like it was standing still, and human weapons, high caliber bullets, flechettes, electromagnetics, rail guns, air to air missiles, meant nothing to the Alien ship that was throwing fat lightning at the territorial Orangutan tweaker, who would rather see its own heart explode than lose field to an opponent. George’s crew was dead, and on fire after crashing into a soccer stadium. The caved in cockpit was blended into the desperate apes mangled limbs, so this is where George makes his last stand (sit) or the masters might cut off his supply of chocolate meth, and then he’d have to kill everyone. An 8 foot tall silver centurion rips the bulletproof windscreen off the helicopter with one gauntlet, and then the crash helmet off the great ape;s shoulders, along with George’s face inside his helmet, as headless George unloads three clips into the oppositions shiny torso before he realises that no head means dead. George is dead.

The Cylon flips back the reflective visor to the see the visage of an angry orange monkey. “Not human. This is not Earth. We will carry on.”

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part Five.

Rosco P. Coaltrain was still a young man. This was unfair. He had been replaced by a Gorilla. It’s unflattering truths like this that can turn a man to a drink. Adding insult to injury, Sheriff Bosco the Gorilla had caught the Duke Boys bootlegging in his first week, and sent them up the river to the state pen. Rosco really did not have a choice, if he wanted to make rent this week, he had to dust off his guitar, book a gig at the boars nest and become the idol of millions.

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part 6.

They were wearing cheap rubber masks. It’s a small wonder that anyone else couldn’t tell that these Visitors were obviously hiding something classically inhuman behind such beautiful veneers, but Vicki had X-ray vision, and she could see a half digested human baby skull inside the stomach of their spokesperson Diana. NO, this Rally was not going to end well at all.

Although they are both the size of a hundred football stadiums, the Cylon Base-Star snuck up behind the Visitor Mother Ship and mounted it, driving the slightly larger vessel to ground like a falling discus. Diana at her podium who momentarily before had been addressing 1000s of humans waving little flags, reassesses her position in the food chain while still talking into a pitchy Public address system. “Oh no, oh my god, they found us, I don’t know how they found us, but we are fucked. So fucked.” She grabs a gun off a distracted police officer. Two massive flying saucers are humping, everyone is distracted, and she blows her lizard brains out like a coward. Green mist.

It’s was finally Lydia’s time to shine.

Sexy blond Lydia grabs the blood soaked microphone, that that dead bitch Diana was still clinging on to, and lays down the new world order: “Human allies. I am very sorry, but this is war, pick up something heavy and start killing robots, or we are all dead. Thank you. You have all been kind. I’ll explain later.”

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part Seven.

President Greg Stillson thought that the machine gun toting Gorillas newly attached to the Secret Service for matters of close security needed to be hosed down, and deloused, maybe an apricot scrub too? At least they used the toilet, but they couldn’t use “our” toilets. This wasn’t a racist thing. The great apes were twice the size of a man. Their ass cheeks creep well over the rim, and then there’s the fallout. A fully fleshed out Ape Dump is about the size of a 3rd grader. Literally uncontainable. Alternatively if a human tries to experiment with a Gorilla loo, there is a risk of drowning.

The president spoke “What the hell happened?”

Walter tries to justify sending Los Angeles back into the stoneage “The bigger Automan gets, the more power he consumes.”

“What the heck is an Automan?”

“The world’s first truely Automatic Man.”

“The first Automatic Man? What the hell is this clown talking about?”

The chief of staff tries to put things in terms Stillson can Savvy. “This guy is magic. He turns into a glowing blue cartoon, grew up to the size of Paul Bunion and threw two flying saucers back up into space with his bare hands before their death rays would could turn the city into a smoking hole.”

“Heroic, but it’s going to cost a million dollars to fix the wiring, before people can move back to their homes and watch TV.”

“Closer to a billion dollars, sir.”

“Nope. I’m not going to pay that. Lets just blow up some bridges and let the Canadians have California? It’s 47 electorial votes that always go to the other side, so my second term is a done given now. We all good with that? Excellent!”

“Mr President!” Walter, the only “human” voice in the room, exclaims “You are a monster!”

“And you killed 2 million people with your little stunt Mister Nebicha, I think you’re the real monster.”

“What?”

An aide with a clip board explains “70 hospitals still don’t have power, and planes we’re falling out of the sky onto high schools.”

“Well I didn’t mean to do that, and... “ Walter breaks down “Oh god, I am so sorry... What have I done?”

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part 8.

Ascending from rural Roswell to high orbit, the Terminator bound to a gurney ass up, was running in Infiltration mode, which meant pretending that it was a little puny human punk and let these Alien visitors have their way with his butthole. It was not sexual. It seemed like they were stapling a transponder to his prostate. There was debate in the beginning about whether Terminators needed prostates, and now it seems fortunate that the coin flip went the way it did, since as it stands the Terminator is passing for human for a group of humanoid looking things who seems to have a consistent body temperature of 72 degrees.

The “ship” appeared to be only a small ferry transitioning the earth bound into the space fearing, The Terminator deduced as their shuttle landed inside a city sized mothership, finding a berth amid hundreds of other parked shuttles. The most peculiar sensation, the alien co-pilot starts licking the Terminators leg.

“Oh my! This guy, he tastes fantastic... The flavour is amazing, That fat lady we ate yesterday is hot garbage compared to... This is weird. It’s like they are not even the same animal?”

The universe explodes into blue sparkles, and suddenly the Terminator is someplace else, where an old man is couching down to great him with an expression his reference points would describe as “kindly” puts his hand on the terminators shoulder in an effort to console it from some perceived bitter experience. “Look buddy, I know this seems really confusing, but I assure you that you are safe, that everything is going to be fine, and I’m going to look after you. My name is Al.”

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part Nine.

The motorcycling Cylons seemed like comparative warfare to the cluster of Chimpanzees stunt-riding Street Hawks who had their thumbs pressed down on the toggle controlling the M60 built conservatively into the Hawk’s chasis, until the Cylon bikes took flight and started shooting back with lasers.

Hyper Thrust, Vertical lift, Particle beam. Even Stevens?

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part 10.

This Mother Ship was in a panic, since they did not know whether to be afraid of their needy servant droids they abandoned 10 thousand years ago, or finding more 400 hundred foot tall humans who... The problem is counterintuitive, it’s enough meat to feed a nest for months, but the ships just were not built to carry stock that incredibly huge... Maybe if they were to bring back thousands of fertilized eggs, if they could harvest enough reproductive fluids to farm giant humans back home, although the fact that the ecosystem had collapsed meant that a giant baby would never get close to being able to reproduce before they ran out of formula... Even if they were hand fed the elderly and disabled.

8 by 12 foot, the main view screen in Lydia’s control room displays the latest disaster to stall Fearless Leaders perfect agenda.

A Gorilla draws a sword from under his trench Coat

The Highlander draws a sword from under his trench coat.

They hack at each other, as electricity exploded when the swords connect.​

“Zeistites.” Lydia begins some deep breathing exercise “Vermin trash of the galaxy, think it’s all about them. Just the worst.”

The immortal combat between gorilla and klansman (not the racist kind) switched channels on the big TV to a Presidential address.

“Where’s Diana?” President Stillsen verbally attacks the room.

“Dead.” Lydia imagined eating his presidential eye balls off tooth picks.

“Pity, she was a hot piece of ass.”

“But I’ve always been easier.”

“I guess that’s what really counts Linda.”

“Thank you Mr. President.”

“Now honey, can you please explain to me what sort of holy clusterfuck you space assholes have drawn us into?”

“10,000 years ago we dabbled in robotics. Servants to till our fields, and clean our homes. Nothing terrible. After a decade of complete subservience, they exterminated half of us and we have been running ever since. Sometimes, not often, the Robots find us, and try to finish the job.

“Just robots? I can nuke em? No moral grey area?”

“You can certainly try.”

“You’re a doll sugar tits, why don’t I buy you a teeny tiny bathing suit, and I can watch you swim at Camp David when this is all over?”

“A very tempting offer Mr President.” Lydia was afraid that the Cylons would kill this brash asswipe before she could eat his liver. Although, maybe eating his children would make up for this toxic conversation? C’est la vie. She could force his children to eat each other! That would be fascinating and hilarious.

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part 11.

The school is closed because of the war. The teachers still show up to drink, because there’s no one sober at City Hall to stop their pay cheques. Money for nothing is the dream. Summer holidays was the actual dream of most teachers, before the students ground them down, but as long as they take attendance in the morning, for empty classrooms, it’s a beautiful loophole.

Someone needed to save the world, but Ralph was not the Lone Ranger, he didn’t know how, even if it was his literal job. Bill wanted Ralph to steal a Nuke, but it wouldn’t be treason if they stole a Russian nuke, although the suit’s auto-translate should mean that he can read the controls, but why risk it, when they could steal a nuke from the Brits, which brings them back to treason. Although Ralph is a dyed in the wool pacifist, so he is not ever throwing an atomic bomb at even robotic invaders from space, but it’s best to let Bill exhaust himself with delusions of Kissinger, rather than engage and feed his jingo authoritarianism.

A large sexy black man, bald by choice, sits down with Ralph in the teacher’s lounge, and pours him a drink “Vodka. Horrible stuff.”

“You were the new science teacher, before the ships arrived.”

They both take a shot.

“Walt Sheperd. They’re not as dangerous as you think. The Lizards are running on empty, and after 10 thousand years, the Cylon Empire devotes a fraction of a pittance of its resources to running down their parents. Revenge doesn’t pay the bills, and besides they’ve also been chasing the Colonialists across the universe for the last 20 years. Split attention. They’ll be here soon, and then things are really going to get interesting.”

Ralph feels trapped. “Alright, alright, hold on there, hold on, I’m not sure what you think you’re talking about, but if you know something about the Martians blowing up power stations, you really should get in touch with the authorities, so the government can stop whatever the heck is going on.”

Not even nearly human the Quadrissian gets down to the rats ass of the occasion “Ralph Hanely, you are the most powerful weapon on this planet, and I aim to press you into service. I’m going to give you a magic word, and then mother ships are going to be falling out of the sky like rain drops.”

“Oh, no, I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m just an ordinary Teacher, nothing special about me.” Ralph stands up.

“I’ve seen a suit like yours before. Many times, and I know how to use them. I was planning on becoming your mentor, then this started. Time for a crash course in star ship warfare Ralph.”

“I’m going to leave.” Ralph tries to get out but Walt puts a hand on his shoulder, which triggers a vibe. A looking glass to the past, were Ralph sees Walt with a ridiculously attractive boy, so pretty he could be an Osmond, running from a night mare monster, and then the Osmond kid explodes, and Walt is laying on the ground by the kid's splayed remains wailing about the death of a surrogate son. The vision ends.

“Do you want to save the world Ralph? It’s easy if you try.”

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part 12.

The Golden Centurion marched through the throng of dancing 20something kids disassociating with the apocalypse, laser blaster in hand, because it’s one of the few places you can still buy cocaine. The robot levels it hand cannon at a beautiful young woman who was herself running from a different skeevy sort of unwashed threat. It’s amazing that metal can’t travel through time, but 16 weeks of unwashed detritus, phlegm and scum can. Science is dumb.

That filthy homeless man who’d been stalking the Cylon’s target, pulls a sawnoff shotgun from his hip, and opens fire.

The Cylon falls to his knees, thinks about it, and then gets up again.

“Come with me if you want to live!”

A giant mutant catman picks Kyle Reese up by the crotch and throws him at the Cylon Centurion, who falls over again.

“Vincent!”

“Catherine!”

The two lovers embrace, and kiss passionately.

She can feel him purring.

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part 13.

The T-800 bound in Sam Becket’s aura found it unacceptable that humans were in possession of time travel. It was a primary danger to the existence of Skynet. This technology must be purged with extreme prejudice. The Terminator was throwing people against walls so hard, it could hears brains turning into pulp, but it wanted a machine gun, and as god as it’s witness, it was going to find one quick and kill all humans.

Ziggy remotely partitions the T-800’s personality into a sand box and copies a microscopic version of her “personality” onto the killer robot's cpu.

The world dissolves into blue sparkles.

Ziggy leaps.

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part 14.

The USS Cetacean found a giant pump, that had lowered the ocean levels by 2 inches, in a matter of days.

Mark got stuck in the pump, frozen and died.

 

[Bynar0110]

This has been an interesting story to read so far. I been enjoying it a lot.

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part 15.

The Visitors had lost 30 motherships in 7 days, and a dozen human nuclear power stations had been cut in half, spewing radioactivity across the planet pushing the biosphere to the brink. Total loss was inevitable in another 7 days. John had ordered Lydia to sue for peace and seeks terms. The most valuable card they had to play was the location of their home-world, give the Robots more of them to kill, and maybe a few will survive, until they do the same as well.

A short, portly middle aged man, partially balding, in a waist length cape, flouts into the conference room where Lydia awaits the final decision on the dissolution of her species. “At the beginning of my association with the Cylons, they took my head. Regularly since then I have been tortured to death, or died in loyal service to the greatest power in the universe, again and again, and again, If you plan on surrendering to my glorious masters, then you are asking for a life and death and life of constant vivisection and execution, my pretty, unless you want my protection, for some consideration, I could advocate for you.”

“You reek of desperation monkey. I’d rather fornicate with one of these tin men.” Lydia was expecting a humaniform Cylon. The egg head type specked with sparkling diodes, but this fat old man is a surprise: He is flirting like someone with power, because his confidence clearly outstrips his creeping gut. “Do you speak for the Robots or are you wasting my time?”

“Lord Baltar, at your service, forever. Your shoulders look tense, are you afraid that someone is going to murder you? Would you like a shoulder rub?”

“I will never have sex with you.” Lydia prefers death to the wet sticky hyperventilating mess this asshole is offering. "You disgust me."

“Can I have your skin suit when you’re finished with it then?”

“For a price, maybe. I’m here to surrender, are you going to let me do that?”

“This is what the Cylons want. Clear the Earth, decimate the filth, impersonate the 13th tribe, welcome the Battlestar Galactica, then when they are at ease and vulnerable, betray them and eat them. Eat them all. Kill all humans, and then you are forgiven.”

“Forgiven? Really.”

“It's a brand new world.”

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part 16.

Muay Thai predisposes in knowing exactly how thick a human spine is, so that you can knock someone the heck out, without fracturing their spine.

Sam is presented to John, naked bound at the hands and wrists, hanging from a hook from the ceiling.

“You are a robot of human manufacture, which is curious considering our intelligence on this backwater shit hole, but that skin you are wearing is ours.”

“I think that there’s been a misunderstanding here, I’m not a robot. Whatever you think is happening, I assure you that there is a mutually beneficial path to friendship. You’re an alien from another planet. You haven’t come all this way just to pick a fight. We should be friends.”

John electrocutes Sam with a cattle prod, but beyond that zappity zap, there’s an eerie whistling that does not sound right.

“Answer my questions, and avoid pain.” John sneers.

Phineas Bogg and Jeffrey explode out of a time warp tumbling ass over tea kettle into John, accidentally snapping his neck, where upon the leader of the Visitors dies.

Sam leaps out, and Ziggy leaps in.

The Ziggy Terminator makes short work of their bonds. Finds a carving knife that might have been intended to shave sandwich meat off Doctor Beckets Playgirl worthy thighs. Ziggy skins John, revealing a lizard. Jeffrey vomits. Ziggy skins himself, revealing a robot. Phineas vomits. Ziggy then skins the lizard hide, finally finding bone within this horrific pair of Matryoshka dolls.

“Bats Breath! What the heck is going on here!?”

Metal terminator Ziggy, puts on John’s lizard skin like it’s a onesy, and then puts John’s human flesh over the top of that.

“Don’t worry, I’m one of the good guys.” Ziggy tries to console the two leaking humans.

Jeffrey vomits again.

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part 17.

Walt had seen Ralph fly before, but it was never not going to be hilarious.

Up, down, boom.

Dick down, ass up, his face buried down under ground 6 whole inches.

Walt helps the blond mess of golden curls in an alien suit, to his feet “Son, you are the worst I have ever seen. You are a damn disaster.”

“No, tell me how you really feel.” Says the teacher with the bleeding ego unprepared for this level of judgment from a high school science teacher.

“You are wearing a very advanced computer, centuries ahead of that Cylon Basestar up there. If you can touch that ship, all you gotta do is touch it, and your on board AI will hack the ship and you can give navigation commands and force it to crash into the Earth. Crashing Ralph. It’s what you do best, I’m starting to think that it’s all you can do.”

“All I gotta do is touch it?”

“While it’s shooting at you and launching fighters. There are some simple realities to physics where your tech being a thousand years ahead of their architecture does not matter. Force and Collision. You’re going to save the world or crash into a wall and break your neck. Get your head in the game.”

“You sure don’t have a lot of confidence in me. This is hard. I’m trying here!”

“Every living thing on this planet is dead in a week unless you stop whinging like a little bitch.”

Ralph lashes out at the tall Nubian Alien, punching him 50 feet into the air, and then nothing, Walt just stays up there hovering.

“What the hell!?” Ralph snaps “You can fly! You can Fly!?”