Civil War

Looking from the outside in, one would sense a certain uneasiness among the bar's occupants, as if they were all walking a fine line that hadn't snapped just yet, but was inevitably going to. Green1-032y5 however, seemed used to this feeling, almost bored by it.

Green walked into the bar, yawning lethargically as he waved hello to the bartender and looked around for a welcoming seat. He had had a long day at work and this particular tavern always helped him unwind.

Green propped open a book he had picked up earlier and started scanning through it. "R.U.R" it was called, by Karel ńĆapek. Interesting piece of human literature. Out of the corner of his optics, Green spotted a guy, aged around 20, staring at him from across the bar. As soon as the guy noticed Green staring back, he flinched as signs of fear registered on his face. Green smiled a soft but awkward smile, trying to convey to the man that he meant no harm.

Just then, the door burst open and a woman walked in, exuding superiority in her presence alone. She seemed miffed about something, so many people moved out of her way as she pulled up the chair next to Green and sat down.

"Your finest, please," she signaled to the barkeep. He hurriedly complied.

She too noticed the young man at the corner of the bar, who showed intrigue in both her and Green, but who was keeping his distance regardless.

"Hey, slave," she called out to him, "clean these crumbs off my table. And hurry it up, please. Ugh, what a dump. I can't believe this backwater alley had the only bar for miles." The man had gotten up, when-

"Don't do what she says, friend." Green projected his soft voice. Green turned to the woman. "This is a non-discriminatory bar. Everyone here is equal, you cannot command people as you wish."

The woman looked at him with disdain. "What's your serial number?"

"Green1-032y5. Yours?"

"Blue22-002a, I'll have you know." There was easily sensed pride in those words.

Blue turned to face Green as well, her interest piqued by his serial number. "Where do you work?" she asked him.

"The International Association in Support of Human Existence. Why?"

"Ha! You do realize that everyone at IASHE are stuck-up, aged interfaces who favor tradition over change? Frankly, I can't believe someone of your status would voluntarily work there."

Green sighed calmly. He had heard this tirade one too many times. "Humans are as sentient as we are and deserve the rights we get. Just because they have...special needs, doesn't mean they should be shoved aside. We at IASHE fight to spread this noble message, that's all," he recited, as if he had delivered the exact same line before.

"Human 'needs' are insane!" Blue retorted, "The 20 billion of them are on the verge of throwing Earth into primal chaos! And it isn't like we've found any new ways to cultivate food and energy. Land is as limited as ever. Tell me, Green, what do you suggest we do?"

"As to that, I'm not sure. But we definitely shouldn't kill them all off on a whim, like you lot want."

Blue recoiled slightly at Green's accusatory voice. "Hey, hey, I'm not saying complete extermination is necessary. It isn't. We just need to reduce the human population to a more manageable level, and keep careful tab on them. Cows and chickens have remained plentiful in this way, have they not?"

Green put down his book. This was going to take while. "Humans are our creators, Blue. We must find a non-violent way to keep them on the planet. Otherwise we'd be no less primitive than the humans that have caused us so much grief."

Blue shook her head. "This is why the green models are so flawed. So much emotion. I am on the side of those who think rationally above all else, and want nothing more than the continued prosperity of our kind. Where do you side, my friend?"

"I-" Green was interrupted by the dormant holographic television behind them blaring to life.

"Breaking news," a newsrobot announced. "Several missiles have touched down and exploded at Kiev, Ukraine, just 20 minutes ago. 90% of humans in the formerly pro-organic life city have been reported dead. President White4-2x55x of pro-human USA has seized this opportunity to declare war against the anti-human alliance, while simultaneously asking a group to take responsibility for the act of violence. More details as we uncover them." The newsbot paused. "May robotity survive this crisis," he stated solemnly.

"Hmph," snorted Blue. "About time. Let there be a war, I say. I'm ready to serve. We can finally solve this processor-ache for once and for all."

Green cleared his throat. "...Anyway, as I was saying, I..."

-1 Hour Later-

"Well, I've gotta go. See you around, I suppose." Blue said her goodbyes to Green in kind, and both left the tavern. The man in the corner, however, remained. As he watched the two artificially intelligent robots exit the bar, his eyes still held a level of curiosity, as they had before, but much more evident was a burning hatred.

"Bionic trash," he muttered. "Short-circuit and die. We should have never created you." The man sighed, and his hateful eyes turned weary. He was never really told much, as a child. Essentially, humans had perfected the first AI Robot, and without thinking, had mass produced it. They were far stronger and smarter than we could ever hope to be. And when our overpopulation problem reached critical levels, and we contemplated shutting down our AI to preserve energy, they turned on us. Now we were akin to domesticated animals, anxiously awaiting judgment from a higher power. That was the closest to a description of his life situation as he was ever given. And now, he lived in hiding. The better hidden you are, they said, the better your life will be. Screw that.

Looking from the outside in, one would sense a certain panic among the bar's occupants, as if they were all walking a fine line that had moments ago snapped. Civil war was upon them.