The Jazz Lounge

In an orange world, a servo-bot rolled towards a dead body. The man had been gored so violently it was impossible to evaluate the cause of death. The servo-bot scanned a red laser over the corpse from the toes up to the head. The scan finished when the robot suddenly spun its dome head around as an ominous humming sound grew from its core.

“Intruder. Intruder.” The servo-bot opened its left claw and a buzz saw blade shot out like a rocket. A man in a fedora dodged the buzz saw and drew a 9mm handgun from his under a long yellow trench coat. He fired three shots into the servo-bots chrome head. The robot attempted to speak through garbled static but the colored lights turned grey as it limped forward and crashed into the caked earth.

The man in the yellow trench coat was named Shawn. He took a large step over the servo-bot and approached the gored corpse. Shawn squat and propped his elbows on each of his knees. He lifted the corners of the body’s clothes, pushing the limbs around until he found in the front right pocket was a wallet. He opened the wallet and scavenged the fourteen dollars that remained. Shawn dropped the wallet and held the currency in his fingers as he reached in his pocket and took out his own leather wallet, where he placed the fourteen dollars inside.

Shawn pulled up to a saloon that was converted into a jazz lounge in the middle of a ghost town. Warm and upbeat tunes poured out from the swinging doors. Shawn didn’t see anywhere to park the dune buggy as a mass of other buggies were littered throughout the dirt road. He spun around the ghost town and parked at the back of the lounge.

Shawn placed his tattered fedora on a hat rack by the entrance of the jazz lounge. His long trench coat swung by his ankles as he coasted through the crowds of desolate folks looking for a little happiness in this miserable world. Shawn sat down at the only empty table left in the bleak room as the upbeat trumpets tried their hardest to give life. Around the room where plenty of people, all without a smile; the dilapidated room was once red but the dust and dirt from the wars had aged the jazz lounge threefold, as pieces of the wall chipped off.

Shawn sat at the table and placed his 9mm handgun beside an empty beer glass. He was in the far left corner of the room so that the stage protruded further in the room than where he sat.

“Is that yours?” a grimy voice inquired.

Shawn looked up and saw a thin man with a fairly normal look but his right jaw was missing as wires and flesh were exposed. He stood casually beside Shawn and waited politely for his answer.

Shawn realized his handgun was resting on the table in the open. “Sorry,” he took the gun and leaned forward to shove it in the back of his belt underneath his trench coat.

“I meant the beer,” the jawless man clarified.

“Oh. No.”

“Then do you want one?”

Shawn realized he was a waiter here at the lounge. “Sure.” The jawless man left without saying a word. Shawn watched him cross the room and disappear into a crowd, slipping behind a bar.

There was light applause as the song concluded. The stand-up bassist approached a microphone that was standing center stage and folded his hands cordially. “Okay, folks. Please welcome the immensely talented Ginger Veaux.” Again, there were only a few claps despite the packed house.

A woman in a silver sequin dress and dark brown hair with bangs walked to the microphone. She had sunken eyes and her smile was in a constant frown. She sung low and crooned a breathy tune, unwilling to engage in eye contact with any of the patrons.

Shawn watched the somber performer as the jawless waiter returned with a glass full of beer.

“Here,” he held it out for Shawn to grab.

Shawn took the beer and had a small sip in front of him. It tasted old and sour, but he withheld his grimace and nodded. “Thanks.”

“Thanks yourself, buster,” the jawless waiter corrected him. “Outta all these bums, you’re one of the only ones who paid for a drink.”

Shawn looked around the crowded jazz lounge and saw that it was true. “What are they doing here?”

“They’re here for Ginger,” he replied.

Shawn looked at Ginger, who held her arms as she shied her way through the song. The audience watched vacantly at the stage, seemingly unimpressed with her. “They don’t seem that excited about her.”

“They are. Oh, they are. There’s not much smiling anymore. This is the closest I see: folks gathering around to watch a good lady like Ginger sing a song for them.”

“And you guys let them come in without buying anything?”

“I’d like to,” the jawless man answered slowly, “But the last time any of us tried to enforce a drink minimum he died.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Shawn said respectfully.

“Yeah. Oh well.” He looked away from Shawn and watched Ginger. She lost herself in the music and her voice grew louder as her confidence followed. She closed her eyes and sawed her hands through the air as she punctuated the melody. The room leaned forward with sudden awe as she slowly captivated their attention. She hummed the final note and the people responded with proper applause.

The jawless man’s eyes smiled, since he couldn’t with his mouth. He stood proudly beside Shawn’s table and watched Ginger bow slightly.

“Life’s hell, ain’t it?” he said to Shawn without looking.

Shawn glanced at Ginger and then looked up at him. “Yes. Life’s hell

“You know, I found out about a week ago I’m not really human. No, I’m a mix. One of the cyborg humanoids. I hate ‘em. I’ve always hated those damn robots and anything remotely close to it. Thought they were always doing far more harm than the ‘justice they’re programmed for’ bullshit.” He chuckled and looked at Shawn. “And now I’m one of ‘em. I tell ya, buster, life’s hell. But it’s a million times more bearable with people like Ginger.”

“She’s good,” Shawn agreed.

“She’s good, buster.” The jawless man sat down at the table with Shawn and pointed at him accusingly. “They don’t know what the music does to the people here.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“The Cavalcade. They’re coming because it’s ‘distracting the common person from fulfilling their civic duty.’” He slammed his fist on the table. “Damn right it’s a distraction! Life’s hell, and we should have the right to forget about it for an hour or two. They just want more recruits, and since everyone’s scared shitless they have to create a law to make people join their tyranny. It’s their robots that are killing the population, and yet they blame it on people like you and me. Well… maybe just you.”

“When are they coming to shut it down?” Shawn asked worriedly.

“Shut it down? Ha. They’re not going to shut us down, buster. They’ll find the right enough excuse to start a fight and execute us all. The Cavalcade should be here tomorrow, if they’re honest. No, I’m leaving tonight.” He reached over and took Shawn’s beer, drinking a little of it, which spilled back on the table through the gap in his jaw. “They just don’t know what Ginger does for us, buster. A little chance to feel some semblance of peace and happiness – god knows we haven’t felt that in… god knows how long. Oh, god…” He slid the beer back to Shawn, who took a small sip. “No, I’m leaving tonight. I’m getting outta here with Ginger and we’re going til we can’t run anymore.” He looked up behind himself and watched Ginger sway slowly as she crooned her song. “No, they don’t know how good distractions are. All work and no play…”

Shawn reached in his wallet and unfolded the fourteen dollars he raided off the gored corpse and held them out. “It’s not much but it’s a few dollars more to help you get started in that new life.” The jawless man couldn’t help but smile, weakly and painfully, as his skin ripped. But he smiled nonetheless.

Ginger suddenly stopped singing and looked across the room, making eye contact with a man surrounded by servo-bots. He stood pretentiously in the doorway as everyone came to a halt and silenced. He serveyed the room with condemnation.

“By the order of The Cavalcade, this burlesque club must be shut down. Everyone leave now.” The servo-bots beside him revved a loud whirring sound as their eyes glowed hot red.

“Hey, no, wait a minute!” the jawless man shouted from the across the room. “You said you’d be here tomorrow! You didn’t give a chance to—”

The general waved his finger and one of the servo-bots fired a laser at him. The jawless man shot back against the broken wall; a searing hole burned in his stomach. Shawn reached in trench coat for his 9mm, gripping it to draw and fire at a whim. Shawn then turned around and saw a hallway that lead into darkness behind the stage. He looked at Ginger, who stared at her fallen friend. Shawn quietly whispered at her. Ginger saw Shawn waving for her to follow him, but she turned her attention back at the general.

“By the order of The Cavalcade, this burlesque club must be shut down,” the general declared once more. “Everyone must leave.”

“Get out of the way then!” someone shouted. The general waved his hand and a servo-bot fired a laser at the heckler.

Ginger hurried across the stage and ran towards Shawn. The general waved at the stage, lasers shot across the room and chased Ginger. A laser shot the head of a woman sitting in front of the stage, splattering blood on the people beside her. The man sitting by her cried in anger and unstrapped a rifle hanging off his chair and fired it at a servo-bot. The bullet pierced through the metal, but didn’t faze the bot at all. It turned it’s torso towards the man and fired another laser, searing a hole in his heart. One by the one the jazz lounge withdrew their own weapons and attacked The Cavalcade. The general ran outside as the servo-bots began vaporizing the room.

Shawn ducked to the floor and wrapped his arm around Ginger as they crawled through the dark hallway. Lasers and bullets ricocheted off the walls and screams of rage and agony filled the lounge. Shawn and Ginger stood up once they entered into complete darkness. Ginger took Shawn by the hand and led him, knowing the way.

Ginger turned through a corridor and suddenly slammed against a metal bar to push open a back door. The blinding orange world hurt their eyes as they stepped out. They shielded their eyes with their hands as their pupils adjusted. Once they adjusted they saw a single servo-bot waiting for them. Shawn held the 9mm in his grip under his yellow trench coat. Ginger held his arm as she cowered behind him. The servo-bot hummed loud and began whirring as it extended it metallic tube-like arm towards them.

Shawn looked to his right and saw his dune buggy sitting just a few feet from them. He reached in his pants pocket and shoved keys against Ginger’s chest.

“Go!” She clenched a fist around the keys and ran towards the buggy. The servo-bot shot a buzz saw blade at Shawn, who ducked and fired at the servo-bots head. The robot began smoking and glowing red and with lightning speed and charged at Shawn. Shawn tried escaping but the servo-bot gripped it arms around Shawn and squeezed tightly, bruising his bones.

“Self-destruct initiate,” the servo-bot announced. Shawn tried writhing out of the grasp, but the servo-bot held on with an unbreakable grip. He clenched his teeth and looked at Ginger, who sat anxiously on the dune buggy. She hoped off and ran towards him.

“No!!” Ginger stopped in her tracks. “Go, Ginger! Go!!” Ginger tripped as she backpedaled. She stood up and ran back on the buggy, looking back at Shawn, and then driving away.

The servo-bot exploded, igniting the jazz lounge on fire as a mushroom cloud erupted behind her. She drove into the desert, leaving the massacre behind.