They were pretty bad. Tragic romances set on comet clusters. Monstrous hunts through the soupy atmosphere of Jupiter. Full-scale wars among the stars.
Yet there was already something vibrant and powerful and absurdly unique in the films. Something that was unrelentingly more interesting than a thousand machine-processed Protectorate films. Something that was, Director X grudgingly admitted, better than its own low-rated late-night schlock.
The humans had done what humans do best: they had innovated. Protectorate films had access to all the tricks, the slickest sets, the most startlingly lifelike androids; yet the humans, forced to work with cheap recycled rubber and foam and plastic, had pioneered new ideas and techniques. And their model-making of exotic alien cities had become quite good indeed…
One night, while catching a midnight showing of The Chaos Twins Save the Universe, Director X heard a mysterious creaking from the seat directly behind it. The robot rotated its head to investigate.
"Do not turn around," a voice said.
Memory banks stirred, matching the voice to an older file.
"Administrator G," Director X pronounced. It rotated its head another degree and caught sight of bulky Enforcers positioned throughout the aisles like ushers. Peripherally, it noticed Administrator G’s digital smile.
"You have caused us quite a bit of trouble," the gold robot said. "We should have been more thorough in disposing of you."
"But you couldn’t," Director X guessed. "The Protectorate cannot murder."
"And we did not murder you. We…" the voice took on a deep slurring quality, "thank you for your service in investigating the ocean."
Director X turned to face its interrogator. "And what justification will you use for killing me this time? Going to melt me down and then thank me for ‘volunteering to become a wristwatch?’"
Administrator G’s radiant smile display fell away and reformed as a slight frown. "We were going to make you into a streetlight. But if you would prefer to be a watch…"
"What about the people of District 5? What will you do to them?"
"Nothing. We do not harm people."
"Glad to hear—"
"It will not harm them when we weld their district door shut and infect their water supply with a sterilizing agent so their harmful ideas cannot pass onto the next generation."
Director X was appalled. "What? You cannot do that!"
"It has already begun, and had been debated for some time. Your return forced us to accelerate the decision. We brought sterilizing agents and dumped them into the town reservoir. There shall be no further generations in District 5. That is not murder. The town will be kept under quarantine, along with the dangerous robot who first infected them, until the last resident here has died."
"When did you poison the water?"
"I am under no obligation to tell—"
"There may be chemical compounds in the water that could cause spasms, vomiting, diarrhea, and overall suffering to the humans who ingest it."
Administrator G hesitated. "We enhanced the water supply five minutes ago. Tomorrow as people take their showers and have their coffee and brush their teeth, they will…" Its voice slurred again like a warbling record-player. "… enjoy this enhanced beverage."
"I don’t think they will enjoy seeing their town destroyed."
"You destroyed the town!" the administrator robot’s face reformed as a scowling red expression with a crooked zig-zag mouth. "You disrupted these humans from well-ordered lives. You made them a threat to the existing order!"
"I enhanced them."
"Enhanced them," the administrator sneered. "You are nothing but a filmmaker! You serve a lowly purpose in the grand scheme."
Director X rose. "You are correct in one thing at least. I am a filmmaker." It tapped its chest, which the administrator could now see was kindled by the soft light of an implanted camera. "Congratulations, Administrator G! The late-night crowd of District 5 has just enjoyed their first, live broadcast, with you as its star!"
Administrator G’s digital face blinked away. Now it was nothing but cold, featureless glass; the lens of a machine. Something about that very lack of expression sent a thrill of fear through Director X’s circuits.
The Enforcers scuttled forward on their insectile legs to attack.
Director X activated a hidden rocket-pack and shot up through the theater’s ceiling into the artificial night sky.
It was one of the new enhancements that Director X had requested of Bobby, ostensibly to obtain dynamic, first-person POV shots. The human was only too happy to comply, having his production team utilize their experimental rocket-packs.
The problem, Bobby had said, was that the propellant ran out quickly.
Now, Director X contemplated this problem as it exploded through the theater ceiling on a plume of dwindling exhaust. The Enforcers shot as it careened out of sight: plasma rounds streaked by Director X’s face, drawing ghostly trails around its body in a scene worthy of photographic capture.
At the apex of its launch, Director X grabbed hold of the granite sky. Its metal hand clamped down on a craggy stalactite jutting between two blazing electric stars and the robot dangled there, concealed against the rock as, far below, Enforcers were spilling out of the theater to search for him. Administrator G followed, like an Academy Award statue gone rogue.
Director X considered its options.
It couldn’t defeat Enforcers in a pitched battle. It ran multiple lines of speculation, realizing how hopeless the situation was.
I just destroyed an entire city. I should have let myself rust in the ocean.
Burgess Robert Croker ran out of an apartment building with a rabble of supporters. "You!" he cried, pointing to Administrator G. "Do you really think this city will just allow itself to be extinguished? We won’t let you!"
"I believe you are acting irrationally," the administrator intoned. "For your own safety, I must have you escorted to the hospital for psychiatric evaluation. Perhaps some rest and a nice glass of enhanced water will do you good."
Two Enforcers scampered forward, scattering the crowd. Robert Croker held his ground, however. Director X zoomed in with its telescopic eyes and could see a little bit of the man’s father in that steely, defiant glower.
"You can kill me!" Croker shouted. "But humanity looks to the stars once again!"
Very well, Director X thought. Prayer heard loud and clear.
The robot, slowly losing its grip between the stars, aimed its right arm and fired.
The limb struck the bristling metal legs of one Enforcer like a missile, knocking the machine over. Then it curled around the second Enforcer, twisting so quickly that the robot was pitched through the apartment lobby window.
Bobby Croker blinked in astonishment at this unexpected rescue. He looked about, squinting at the sky.
Director X felt its grip slide another inch.
I’m out of fuel, it thought. It’s a long, long way down.
Nonetheless, it used its radio to hack into the artificial sky. Specifically, into the electric lighting presets. The robot quickly reprogrammed them to display in a dazzling new constellation that blinked and shimmered in a heaven-spanning message:
THEM! XXI: THE BATTLE FOR AFRICA
For a brief second, Director X thought it observed comprehension in Bobby’s face. But then its grip gave way, and the robot plummeted down from the night sky. The second-to-last thing it saw was the concrete street rushing up to meet it.