The Space Noir Bar - Michael Marino (best classic books TXT) 📗

sci fi geeks centuries later. 

 

The Tohos, as they became known,  emerged in the 25 Cent from a cocoon of isolation as a galactic political and technological force to be dealt with wearing diplomatic kid gloves. They were still pissed off about the atomic Amityville horror of Hiroshima where a gay Enola came out of the nuclear nightmare closet. Spreading the holy unconditional surrender gospel of mad mushroom cloud radiation.  

 

They evolved into an advanced race of techno-freakoids dabbling in side show robotics. First as toys for little snot nosed Earth kids, before they moved on to highly advanced A-I industrial robotics rendering all former robotics along those lines outdated and inconsequential. 

 

The big push began by the end of the 25th Cent when they had created an entire army of mercenary military bots for higher to the highest bidder engaged in petty territorial geo-porn squabbling over borders, race, religion and resources. 

 

As the machines advanced they were put into use by the emerging Retropolin/Dystopian Empire during the Great War led by the victorious Com-Reds of the far out far off east. Once Earth was unified under Com-Red conquest, Retropolis was born. As a reward a century later the Toho’s were awarded their own planet, (which they were given permission to pillage and plunder as modern day Vikings) They were also allowed to set up Toho Entertainment Neighborhoods in major cities on Retropolis itself composed of delightful Erotoi-bot creations developed after the Great War for a rapidly growing  marketplace  for hyper hymen and power penile genital gratification.

 

 

I had done my homework on the history of the  mystery of the Falcon. The original Mr. Toho was visited one dark night at his Okinawan summer hillside mansion overlooking the South China Sea by a duo of Peruvian Indians back in the year 2015, an age of sexual weakness. Twitter Tweet twits, political correctness and corrupt governments world wide . The Peruvians were big fans of Raymond Burr featured in the first English language version of Gojira. When they saw an old “video tape” and out-of-synch dialogue, they took it as a message  that the Ancient Ones had returned to Earth.

 

Cave drawings and spoken tribal word stories relate how strange beings in strange ships landed in the Andes to visit this hidden race of Earthling and dazzle them by turning the plateau landscape into a giant etch a sketch by laser beaming circles and other symbols marking their territory as if they were a pack f mating wolves.

 

Before they left to explore orbs of interest they gave them a give of a glowing bird that was in effect a power source of knowledge and science that in the hands of a person or persons could harness the secrets and power of the entire universe. How they use that power is up the individual...either way...the glass of rum would be half full or half empty.

 

This same Falcon was kept safe for centuries then turned over to Mr. Toho by the Peruvian Raymond Burr Cult of the Andes. It was handed down Toho to Toho where they learned to unlock the Robotic Genesis Project that led to Mercenary Bots to establish their power base and the Erotibots to rack in the space bucks. It was kept in the Toho underground vaults where it also powered the mechanical planet of To Ho which is completely dependant on it for defense and it’s very existence. Without it they are powerless.

 

Toho’s R And R Department used the Falcon to develope the famed Eroti-bots…..which enabled them to ramp it up a notch utilizing their erotica expertise to experiment creating sex Cyborg’s, half sentient being/half machine sex slaves gathered from a universal garden of military and political prisoners as well as kidnapped beings forced to submit to transference. The Toho’s are major league. I am not. 

 

If I was going  to tango in a computer circuit circus I figured I had better Boy Scout myself and be prepared with an evening of debauched abandon in the robot sex bars and opium dens of the Toho District of Old Detroit with my friends, including the one and only, the  publisher of my usually deadline late mystery novels, Arthur Burns, along and my agency partner, Sandoz Diego Cerveza. 

 

The Toho’s not only created Robotia as a crown jewel of creativity but also developed erotic robotic Districts in major cities on many of the Dystopian Empire as a PR campaign by example of what a whole planet of Cyborg Sex and mind numbing drugs. Good for Eroti-tourism which is all the rage today. Nothing like a Eroti-bot laptop to get your Wi-Fi antennae erect for a strong signal. Homo-robo-sexual some where over the rainbow encounters were  encouraged as today gay was the new hysterical and robo-lesbianism was promoted to flourish, mainly by the manly hetero voyeur crowd. Even Robo-pedophilia is not illegal with an underage bot if the robot was manufactured recently and at least 14 years old.

 

Old Detroit's Toho District ran parallel to the riverfront and was dangerous after dark. Hell, Detroit was just as dangerous in the light of day as a dame on PMS encased in a Kevlar bridal gown ready to toss a bouquet of grenades into a meeting  of paraplegic Girl Scouts in a hospital ward with 6 boxes of cookies left to sell. 

 

Across the river from Old Detroit was the district of Old Windsor, a former city of what was known as Canada, the land where Asrini had just left and entered my life. 

 

Windsor...Ontario!!! Canada! Dangerous, sensual, sexy and very very….well, Canadian...all at the same time.  Intrigue mixed in a syringe loaded with a wet dream dose of Canuck sex and suspense...rowdy rebels from French Quebec, hot body hockey players with large sticks who only want to score a goal in your net and puck you all the way from maple leaf Montreal to the land of the Eskimo nymphomaniacs, where it is intuitive for an Innuit to do it...whether on an ice floe or in an igloo...bone and boner chilling sex in the hinterlands for the hind ends. It's a rustic whorehouse where a Banff blow job is mere pennies on the dollar...use Detroit Currency and she'll go 'round the world' in less than 80 days, minutes, seconds....

 

Old Canada...founded long in the ago by good Nordic Nookie stock...a superior race of warrior women who ventured forth from Scandinavia to Greenland and Iceland and ultimately to what they called Vinland..then the New Found Land confound it...later...Canada...the land of Nanook and Nordic Nookie. A land of Scandinavian Warrior Princesses with Viking vaginas as strong as steel traps....

Yes...Ontario...Everywhere in this teeming Canadian colony, inter-galactic nationals fornicate furiously in fur hats. Detroit is just across the river so why not fuck there? Canucks, Con artists, hookers from Halifax, and pickpockets make fantastic promises to eager space travelers who are in a hurry to leave for safety after the danger dawns on them.  Money and moose hides are the currency of freedom, and the hustlers have a field day conning the hopefuls and taking their last Loonie with nothing in exchange leaving them with dashed hopes, useless pennies, and dashed dreams of escape...back to their home planets and safety.

 

When Arthur and I arrived at the Robot Bar, Sandoz was already there and making small talk with one of the human waitresses when he saw us enter illuminated in the neon of the club’s entrance. “Hey Mates!” he yelled excitedly across the room and above the din of the crowd. Bloody Aussie accent always gave him away as a roo eater that couldn’t shake his down under roots. 

 

“Sandoz, you always amaze me” Arthur said in a voice that betrayed his admiration for Sandoz’s proficiency with the opposite sex, human, alien or mechanical. “I swear you ugly sweat you must be part machine yourself. How the fuck are you...Mate. Ha, just want you to feel at home until you lose that hideous accent. I expect any minute to see an aboriginal woman on her bloody knees sucking on your pouch when I hear that goddamned voice of yours”. 

“Alright boys, drinks. Arthur’s paying yes?” I said as I motioned for one of the Asian waitresses that cruised the customers tables in numbers so great I felt I was in Jakarta on festival night loaded on Soma and could take my pick of the litter.

 

Pleasantries exchanged, we got down to business. I had managed to persuade Arthur to fund the transportation and hotel costs of the trip to the Toho Robotia for both Asrini and myself. In exchange I would write a book on the investigation including all serial rights for mass publication...my ass against the wall i also gave p 50% of the serial royalties. Fuck it. I wanted the Strip Tease Falcon too..hey..absolute power corrupts absolutely, and I was ready to be corrupted with power..absolutely. The Falcon had been removed from the underground  power vault of Robotia and it’s whereabouts had been unknown for decades. Did Asrini know where it was from lose bed talk by a Toho government official whose penis had a big mouth? Remember, Loose lips sink ships...yet they can also give a blow job that will make a man talk if done expertly by the right mouth. It was now a three way race for the prize between Asrini, Maddie and myself; the Toho's; the we-really-mean business Com-Red government and last but not least Narco Marx who it turns out waa the deadliest adversary we would face alone..while the Toho’s would kami-kaze themselves to regain and protect the power source at all costs. 

 

 

Chapter Six - Lesbian Barbie Erotibots from Outer Space

Sandoz and I came often to this particular watering hole because of it’s unique perversity. Once a pervert, always a pervert I always say. The Tohos spared nothing in the way of bizarre entertainment and this joint was the jazzed up jumpin’ Marquis de Sade drunken dungeon  of weirdness. 

 

“Aye Bucko, they’ve got some new  electro-mech- talent they brought in from the Leonid Sector. Some sort of experimental bots I guess,” yelled Sandoz over the ring-a-ding din of the crowd and the music and the whirring noise of the giant Toho robot strippers and the Asian flesh and tits and ass girl who directed the stage show yelling into her microphone “Hai, Hai, Hai”

 

I was all too familiar with the secret program. I was hired to investigate it and went with a delegation of Retropolin scientists, undercover of course disguised as a Dr. Farquahar to  view the demonstrations. The Tohos had taken a childrens toy concept from the 20th Century and brought it from the drawing board to the sex bars in under 6 months . 

 

“I know all about them. I was there when they developed them,” I said to hopefully end the convo and enjoy the show, but as usual Sandoz wouldn’t let it drop “I remember now. You had a mission you couldn’t talk about and made up some bullshit sorry ass story about some girl you got in trouble and a problem you had to fix..ha..yeah, you’re good at covering yer lyin’ arse…” There was something about how Sandoz always said “arse” that made me smile at his outlandish outback phrasing. 

 

I glanced at Arthur who stared at both of us, actually more of a