Invasion of the Cyborgs
“. . . a thousand uniforms that look just like this.” Icarus tried a nice smile, as he laid the rather raggedy uniform out on the table. The Bunnies had issued these cheap things to the Roman Cyborgs, slightly different than the uniforms of the Cyborgs they brought in from Tierramundo.
The lady rolled her eyes. “Size ranges?”
Icarus looked around at the other Cyborgs. “Umm . . .”
Jannon snickered. “Not many Cinco’s size. Most of them . . . what would you call these two guys?”
Much measuring and frowning at the cybernetic arms.
In the background, Cinco was talking to Eldon’s movie making friends. The snatches of conversation were very distracting.
“. . . est to God Cyborg Rebellion! This is movie gold!”
Icarus flinched as the measuring ladies homed in on him. And kept a straight face as they tackled Cinco.
“Cyborg Nazis! Cyborg Nazis!”
The Head of Wardrobe cleared her throat. “So of these sizes, how much of each?”
“Uh . . . four hundred each of the two middle sizes. Fifty of the largest, hundred and fifty of the smallest.”
The fussy little man following her around and tapping on a neat little compact computer tapped a final button, and turned the screen around to display a very large number with a “dollar sign” in front of it.
Icarus swallowed. And we haven’t even started buying weapons yet!
“Where the Hell is a scriptwriter? Never one around when you . . .”
He pulled out one of the business cards Betelgeuse had printed out yesterday and handed it over. “Send the bill to this address.”
“Oh, to hell with the story, we need cameras on scene to start filming.”
“How long will this take?” Icarus was having to work to keep his attention focused.
“I need to see the ground! This fortress on Roman World! Stupid name. Can we call it Roma? Something like that?”
“Right. Can we get any of them earlier?”
“The hole in the ground! The . . .”
“Yes. Once we’ve laid out the pattern, we’ll make one of each size for your approval. Then we’ll send the pattern to a manufacturer in China to mass produce. We’ll have them send a dozen of each size for pre-shooting use, and then . . .”
“Oh for . . . Am I going to have to find an actor to play Eldon!”
Icarus failed to resist. “Maybe he’ll come back in time to play himself.”
And help us, as a thousand Free Cyborgs in snazzy new uniforms march into a thousand mess halls to start the revolution!