A Tale of Two Cocktails

A Sci Fi Short Story

The klaxons grew louder and Dak Racer ordered another cocktail. Nothing fancy, nothing muddled, or infused, or even shaken. Why bother with the effort of it all? Dak ordered an old fashioned because it was the only drink worth ordering.

“Yellow Dak, it switched to Yellow,” said Johnny. He was sweating. They kept the station at the perfect temperature for all residents, and Johnny had the gall to sweat. Sweat next to Dak Racer, no less. “Dak?”

“Order another drink, Johnny-boy. We’ll be just fine.”

“But it switched to Yellow Dak! It’s only two levels away.” The man seemed to cower as he sat still. His hands danced over one other in a way that made even me uneasy.

Dak was unphased: “Johnny-boy, there are two levels with dozens of people between us and the Machine. Get another drink, relax, we can move when the sirens turn Orange if we must.”

Johnny sat up slightly, as if he were afraid to stay still and keep looking scared, or sit up too fast and look entirely too complicit. He couldn’t look like he was entirely in Dak’s hands. That just wouldn’t be acceptable. He was, but he couldn’t look the part.

“Uh, one, hmmm, yes, can I get one Tom-Mint Cooler please?” said Johnny. The machine at the bar whirred and dinged and a fresh green drink - layered atop ice, with a bouquet of mint, and a straw as long as Johnny’s face - slid out on a conveyor belt pointed at the bar top. They were all the rage on the station. The hot new drink. Dak hated the idea of it.

“Thank you.” Johnny took the drink and clinked it with cheers against Dak’s old fashioned.

“You don’t have to thank the serving machine, Johnny-boy,” he said, taking a sip of his drink through a scowl.

“But it’s doing its job.”

“Exactly.”

“And I liked the drink.”

“The very minimum of its job.”

Johnny gave up and took another sip of his drink through the straw. It tasted so good, he could almost forget there was even alcohol to it.

Johnny jumped when the door to the bar slid open with a whish.

“Dak, you didn’t even order us drinks for the show?”

“No show in this bar, I’m afraid, just the drinks,” Dak said. He turned around to see the new arrivals. “Really Worthington, it is a bit much how you enjoy watching the Culling.”

“That’s why they do it, ol’ chap. The sport of it all,” said a voice. But it wasn’t Worthington who said it. He had simply walked in and sat down at the bar, one stool away from Dak. The man behind Worthington had spoken.

“Yul Dreis, the equal and opposite of Johnny-boy,” said Dak. “What are you drinking?”

“Martini old sport. The less dry, the better.”

“Equal and opposite indeed.”

Yul tried to sit next to Dak, in the space left between him and Worthington, but a look from the man stopped him. There was decorum and there was decorum, and one didn’t push the boundaries of either with Dak.

“A little late to the party?” said Dak, pointedly looking at Worthington, now that Yul found a seat next to Johnny. That was good. Those two could talk.

“Not much of a party if we can’t watch anything,” said Worthington. He always hated talking too loud with the help around. Dak thought that the man treated Yul so poorly. The assistant was slime, but he was still a person. Dak treated Johnny-boy much better than that.

“You can’t tell me you wish to take part in the bloody excitement of the masses?”

“We are taking part by being here, Dak.”

“Right, so why exacerbate it by watching it while we live it?”

“There’s always a chance the Culling gets to one of us.”

“You’re Worthington Founder. It won’t get to you.”

“Why not? My father built the resort. Why hold any punches from his son?”

“You said it right there. You’re his son.”

Worthington answered with a sip of his drink, an Old Fashioned as well. Worthington was a outstanding man, made from excellent stock. Dak liked him.

“Awful close this time,” said Yul. He talked so loudly, Dak couldn’t help overheard what he and Johnny-boy said.

“Too close,” said Johnny. “We’re already Yellow.”

“I’m just pissed that they don’t have a good screen to watch on.”

“I can’t believe you watch it. It’s horrific.”

“It’s natural. It’s why we’re here.”

Dak gave Worthington a look that said: “did you really have to bring him?” Worthington shot back a look that said: “You brought yours.” They both took another sip of their drinks.

The klaxons changed sound and tone. They became Orange.

“Dak. Orange Dak!” said Johnny.

“One for the road?” said Dak as he stood and finished his drink. Worthington stood with the same slow air of aristocracy. They didn’t have to move for anyone. Yul tried to copy the feeling. Tried.

“I’ll take another old fashioned,” Dak said to the bar top machine. It whirred slightly as it produced the drink.

The klaxons changed tone and color again. They went Red.

“Dak!” said Johnny, panic obvious in his voice.

“Seems no ‘one for the road,’” said Worthington. He was calm, as always.

“Damn,” said Dak. “Up a level then?”

Worthington nodded.

The foursome turned towards the door. It may have been prudent to have Johnny and Yul up front. There could be danger outside. Prudence could be a weakness, though. There was nothing to be worried about. Dak and Worthington went first and opened the door.

The Machine stood facing them.

The pair stopped. Johnny and Yul froze behind them. The room was silent. The Machine was not. It whirred and clicked as it moved. It was remarkably loud even, announcing its presence from the entire distance of the hallway away. The moment was as silent as the room.

Dak looked over to Worthington, and the Machine turned. It spotted them.

“YOU HAVE ENTERED AN AGREEMENT WITH THE FOUNDER-YAMAMOTO CORPERATION WITH YOUR PRESENSE HERE. YOU SHALL NOT PURSUE LEGAL ACTION FOR ANY DAMAGES TO BODY OR PROPERTY. YOU HAVE ENTERED AN…”

As it spoke, the Machine took plodding, slow, mechanical steps towards the doorway to the bar.

“I think we ought to-“ started Worthington. He never had time to finish.

A ray of light, moving at that same speed, appeared. For an instant it seemed to conjoin Worthington to the Machine, like a clothesline, tied between two trees. The ray was gone just as fast as it appeared. It was only a blink of light.

Worthington Founder’s body dropped to the ground, freshly garnished with a hole, no bigger in diameter than a finger, right through his heart.

“Back!” said Dak, diving away from the open door. Johnny and Yul were slow in responding, reacting, but that was to be expected. They were slow, but they reacted, backing up and letting the automatic door whish shut. The Machine repeated its mantra, and they heard its steps getting louder outside the door.

“Its not stopping,” said Johnny. How can a man’s stress response be to sound so whiny? Thought Dak.

“It hasn’t hit its quota yet,” said Yul. Better, less scared. Still not good yet. Not quite right.

“We’ve got to get out of this room,” said Dak with a grimace. It sounded too needy. He’d have to work on that.

Nevertheless, the other two men still looked at him with awe. He was the man deciding. He was glad everyone in the room agreed with that. Now to get out of the room.

The grinding and clank of the Machine was growing louder.

“There’s an opening behind the bar!” shouted Johnny.

 Dak did a quick survey, yes there weren’t any other doors. “Great Johnny-boy! Get on through there. Yul, you take up the rear.” It was a wonderful idea, and Dak was glad at the thought of it. The Machine couldn’t follow them through an access panel behind a bar. This would work wonderfully.

He grinned as he followed Johnny. His white teeth could almost light the way through the dark back passage on their own. Luckily, they didn’t have to. There were running lights through the small crawlspace. It was only just wider than Dak’s shoulders, a squeeze, but not a fight. There was a thunk as Yul closed the door behind them. Then there was only breathing and moving. The silence was uncomfortable. Every sound echoing through the tight space.

“I found the exit!” said Johnny. His quiet excitement sounded like a shout in the tiny space. The Machine shouted in response as its movement and whirring and mechanical cocktail of sounds grew louder. It had found the space too.

“Then damn well get out of here!” said Dak. Silence be damned.

Johnny was already out of the space though. He turned to help Dak, taking his hands and helping the man through the opening down to the floor below. Dak stood to the side, giving Yul the ability to get himself out, and looked around. There were in some sort of cold storage room. Boxes and crates piled up against the walls and Dak saw his breath condensing in the air in front of him.

Light doesn’t make a sound, not usually, the laser of the Machine especially. It is so precise a line that the few air particles it hits are super-heated and vaporized. Unlike lightning, which heats the surrounding air, causing rapid expansion and thunder to follow, this beam was so precise that there was hardly a click as it flew through the air. There was a scream.

Dak turned and saw Yul on the ground, one of his feet turning into a bloody mess.

“I thought the beam cauterized wounds?” said Dak, looking down at the man.

“It must have shot through the shaft. It knows we’re here. Oh my god, are you ok? Dak what do we do?” Johnny was kneeling on the ground, head on swivel. He was near Yul, who hadn’t stopped groaning in pain.

“I don’t know what happened, but get some towels or something!” shouted Yul, finally reacting to the question.

“Quiet you two!” said Dak, his voice hushed yet loud. He stood near the opening behind them, where the shot had come from. There was no obvious noise coming from the other end of the tunnel, no movement of the Machine. A white noise, a sort of constant whir, came from the opening.

“It’ll be ok,” said Johnny. He’d found a pile of cloth somewhere and was wrapping Yul’s foot in it. The man had quieted himself, thank goodness. “It’ll be ok.”

“It’s waiting,” said Dak. “Don’t cross the path of this opening.”

Dak maneuvered himself around the room, going in deeper past the crates. It was a large storage room, filled to the brim with all the foodstuffs and necessities for keeping a space station like this functioning. Dak found the door out. Good. It was labeled with a backroom code for the hallways that he didn’t understand. The code was for the help to get around. He’d figure it out, anyway. He turned and kept looking. Yes. There it is. Dak popped open a crate.

“Dak…” said Johnny. His voice quietly floating through the room as if he were afraid to speak. Dak shook his head, taking two bottles from the crate and returning to Johnny and Yul. He set a bottle down by Yul.

“Here’s some of the good stuff, Yul-boy. It’ll make you feel better.” He popped the cork out of his own bottle of scotch. This wasn’t just the good stuff, it was some of the best. Yul could never have had it before today.

“Dak, it’s moving,” said Johnny, interrupting his drink.

He was right. The Machine’s clanks and metallic whines were moving. They were moving away.

Dak took another small pull from the bottle he held. Damn, this was the best. “Drink up Yul, we best get moving.”

The man struggled to stand. Johnny helped, holding onto his arm, under the shoulder, to help pull some weight off of his injured foot.

“We’ve got to find a way up a level,” said Johnny with a huff. He was helping Yul and slowing them down a great deal.

“Course we do, course we do,” said Dak..

“Left here,” said Yul.

These were back hallways, maintenance paths. Of course, Yul knew the way. A turn to the left revealed a ladder fastened to the wall. It led up and down. Up really was the only way. The Machine worked itself from bottom to top. If they went down now, then they’d only see carnage, or those who had survived the carnage. It was a coward’s way out.

“Can you make the climb?” said Johnny. Dak turned, but saw the man was talking to Yul.

“I think I can manage.”

Dak nodded and left the two below to sort out who climbed next. The view above as he crested beyond the ceiling and the floor above it was another one of the back hallways. It was lit orange from the running lights. He’d left the machine a level below. Dak dusted off his pants as he stood beside the ladder. It surprised him how much relief he felt at the sight of the orange lights around him.

Yul climbed up, taking his sweet time, and Johnny followed. “Where to now?” Dak said.

“I don’t know, sir,” said Yul. Dak rolled his eyes. He’d have to lead as always.

“Well, come on then,” he said, heading down a random hallway. He worked his way outwards. The hallways grew wider as one left the center of the station towards the outside, with the privileged getting the window seats. The maintenance and the help worked in the core. It wasn’t long before the hallways grew wide enough for Dak to fit in. He recognized bits of the pathways. He may not have been on this floor before, or at least not sober, but really, how different could each floor be?

They reached a door. Well, Dak reached a door, then turned to see Johnny and Yul taking up the rear with a wide margin between them and himself. Dak didn’t want to wait. His stomach growled, and he entered the room.

Johnny and Yul were behind him. They entered and saw that Dak was already sitting at a table. One of many tables. They were in a restaurant. At least two dozen other people filled the room, mostly the wealthy with their personal aids seated beside them.

“Dak, what are we doing?” said Johnny as he reached the table.

“I was hungry? Don’t you want a bite to fill the void?”

Johnny looked at Yul. The look they shared spoke in a way that only a look can. Johnny turned back to say something. The lights in the room turned red.

“Well damn, there goes that idea,” said Dak, standing. He couldn’t hide the disappointment on his face. He really was hungry.

There were many doors to the restaurant. This was one of the higher levels of the station, and as such, afforded windows with a plentiful view of the stars outside. It was a hot spot to be, with plenty of access to the space.

One door opened, and the restaurant saw the Machine.

Screams erupted around the trio as everyone in the restaurant realized what was about to happen.

The Machine opened fire.

Each beam of light was precise, aimed without fault and without damage to the station itself. Unless there was dust in the air or the lighting was just right, you couldn’t even see the beam from an angle that wasn’t head on. Dak just saw the Machine turn, and a person at the other end of the restaurant fall, with a sudden need for some patchwork completed by a tailor around the breast of their shirt.

The trio hurried towards the door they had come from. At least half a dozen people in the room were already dead.

“Jesus, what is this damn thing’s quota today?” shouted Dak. He ducked behind the door to the hallway they had come in from. Johnny moved slowly behind him. Dak turned to see Yul’s body pulling on Johnny like an anchor. He was entirely dead weight now. The hole in his chest didn’t even bleed. “Johnny let him go.”

Johnny complied. He looked back as Yul’s body fell to the ground. The door automatically slid shut, hitting the dead man as it tried to close.

“Dammit, Johnny-boy.” Dak stepped forward and shoved Yul’s body back into the restaurant as the door tried to close one more time. It shut behind them. “Come on.”

They ran. It wasn’t the calm saunter of before. This was a run. Dak felt gross. He should never have to run like this.

They ran through the winding hallways of the station. There were some open doors beside them. People moved and made noises behind doors open and closed. Good. There were still people on this floor despite the red light. They’d been slow. Dak hoped they were still too slow. They rounded another corner to a long hallway.

“Don’t worry Johnny-boy, it’s only a game. They’d never actually try to kill a man of class.”

“It got Worthington Dak.”

“Well, I haven’t seen his income statement lately. Maybe he fell down a peg or two.”

Johnny just moaned a quiet, concerned response. He was probably thinking of Yul. The man hadn’t even had a sip of the good stuff before he ate it. What a shame.

“Here we are,” said Dak. They’d reached the end of the hallway and the door there automatically opened.

“Another bar Dak?”

“Check the back. There’ll be another hatch. We can get away just like before.”

Johnny moved around behind the bar. “There’s another hatch.”

“Just like I told you. Now, what do you want to drink?”

“Just water Dak.”

Dak rolled his eyes, but Johnny wasn’t wrong. He looked at the bartender screen, where the microphone was to take his order. “Two waters.”

The machine worked quickly in response, two glasses with ice water rolling out on the small conveyor to the bar top. Johnny and Dak drank in silence. Both men finishing their waters. Running was work, but this was fun. This was what it was all about.

They heard the Machine walking once more.

“Dak…”

Dak merely held up a hand. Quiet Johnny, it said. They waited. The Machine was walking, but not towards them. It turned. It was walking towards them now. It came at them fast.

“Get the back hatch, Johnny!” said Dak. The Machine’s steps were close now. Too close.

“Dak it’s stuck!”

“Use your arms, man, get it open!” Dak rounded the bar and pushed Johnny out of the way. Damn. The hatch really was stuck.

The door to the bar opened, and the Machine stood, filling the doorway’s void.

“Dak?” said Johnny.

Dak dove beneath the bar top. He heard a quiet sound. Like a sputter. Then he heard Johnny’s body crumple to the floor behind him.

The Machine stood still. No sound other than the constant quiet whir of the processors and the parts moving, keeping the thing alive.

“Culling complete.” Said a recorded voice. The voice was female. Dak didn’t understand. The Machine started moving again, but it was getting quieter. It wasn’t approaching the bar, it was walking away. Dak slowly stood and looked out the open door to see the Machine walking away. Its job was done. The bar door automatically closed, and the Machine was gone from sight.

Dak looked down at Johnny’s body as he stepped over it, rounding the bar. He sat down and stared at the bar top. How could one feel covered in blood without a spot on their hands? It was over, but it didn’t feel over. The bar top held no wisdom, but he looked at it, anyway. He sighed. He’d need to hire a replacement for Johnny. That’d take effort. Maybe this wasn’t worth it. He wondered if he should leave the station. Was it really even that fun anymore?

He looked up at the logo behind the bar. “Founder-Yamamoto Resort Station 4. Feel alive for the very best.”

Then he let his eyes fall to the machine on the bar top. He wasn’t sure about the very best, but the cocktails were pretty good. He looked at the bartender screen.

“I’ll take an old fashioned.”

End.

(March 24, 2023)

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