One Law for the Cab and Servant
Lucy was a cab built to kill. Whenever she got a fare heading for the skyport, with bags and all, she’d log off the net sending in a ‘resting’ message and do her thing.
Her thing was of course to lock the windows, and run her engines for some time, sending her own fumes into the passenger carrying compartment while circling in the higher areas of the city’s airstream where no one would come to rescue her victim.
When the fare was dead she’d head down along the old wharf, or up Rass alley, roll on her side, open her left passenger door, and dump the poor stiff out.
The baggage that was left she’d take by the less legitimate shops and turn for credit, claiming she’d gotten a runner. No one believed her of course, it’s not usual for fares to ditch on antique Luis Vuitton but business is, as the saying goes, and as a consequence the less legitimate shops turned their blind mechanical eyes and paid Lucy what she wanted.
As she logged back on to work she always thought grimly to herself “Three Laws of Robotics My Ass.”
This article was written by IG Agent 6.
