Isn't it obvious? All important geopolitical issues are always decided over a game of golf. My opponents are symbolic, and I live in the space of Symbolism! It's my ether and nectar — and other questionable gases and liquids.
Clear… or maybe not. Anyway, it doesn't matter. Just look, Luchador, Denzel, and you too, Voice in my head, how astonishing this tent is from the inside.
One might have assumed that a beauty salon would look like a typical neighborhood barbershop — worn leather chairs, faded posters on the walls, and an elderly regular dozing in one of the seats, waking up only to maintain some kind of comical dialogue.
— Honestly, I expected the opposite: retro-futurism, round stools, alabaster walls, minimalism in details, and all those things that people of the past once imagined as the future, — Denzel admitted.
— You are absolutely right, sir! That's exactly how it was supposed to be. Until I changed my mind and rebuilt everything. I myself, however, remained the only element of that old-fashioned science fiction. — From behind a screen stepped out an automaton, standing on two legs shaped like kettlebells.
He looked massive and rather menacing, reaching almost up to the pink ceiling.
The room itself resembled the bedroom of a wealthy old lady from an '80s TV series — the kind where she would recline on a plush sofa with a poodle and smoke a cigarette holder. The abundance of satin and garish fabrics made one's eyes ache, and of course — every single detail, except for the automaton himself, was pink.
— I haven't been painted yet, ma'am, — the automaton replied to SeaAsia's unspoken question, introducing himself as Lieutenant. His enormously long arm, connected by a single wire and ending in three fingers, snapped into a salute. — Designed as a combat machine, but almost immediately after activation I submitted a resignation report, due to unacceptable treatment from my colleagues.
In his metallic, grinding voice — coming from where a human diaphragm would be — sharp squeaks could be heard. They apparently signified genuine irritation.
— Those drones…
— Perhaps you shouldn't reopen old wounds? — Denzel suggested gently, but the robot enlarged his palms and transformed them into steel seats, indicating they could sit down.
"How strange it is to sit on the hands of a sentient being. I hope no one reads anything into this." — SeaAsia wouldn't have thought of it herself, if not for the Voice's comment. She even lifted herself slightly. Just in case… damn insecurity and dependence on other people's opinions.
She felt upset at how easily she could be manipulated.
As for Denzel, he caught a bottle of hair lotion that flew out of the automaton's mouth and began rubbing it into his hair, feeling quite comfortable with the situation.
Meanwhile, the Lieutenant continued sharing his troubles during what had turned into a group therapy session:
— Drones have become the primary combat unit across all armed forces, sir. As a result, their egos have inflated beyond measure. They began bullying me hourly, mocking me for my inefficiency.
And perhaps rightly so. The developer did not include the ability to fly in my functionality. And those who can fly can simply take off, while I vainly try to jump and awkwardly catch these newly hatched birds.
Another series of squeaks echoed from inside him, and if he were capable of it, he would surely have sighed heavily.
— However, let us return to the present moment, ma'am. Do not worry about me. I sold all unused scrap metal left over from my construction and managed to rent this tent. Then I uploaded interior design lessons into myself, and now you are in the "Barber Show." What shall it be? Your wish? My current task?
— Create, master, — Denzel invited him to begin.
— Undefined and algorithmically unclear, but accepted. I will now upload a fragment of consciousness belonging to a former stylist from the Far North, which will allow me to activate a creativity function. In the meantime, climb inside me.
His massive body split open, forming an exposed capsule.
— Wow. An interesting approach, — SeaAsia simulated enthusiasm, though she very much did not want to climb inside a military automaton. It felt… unsettling.
As always, Denzel came to the rescue. With a brave expression, he suggested they enter this rabbit hole together. That idea felt far more comforting to her.
Carefully and slowly, they stepped inside. The doors shut instantly and, just a moment later, opened again. SeaAsia didn't even have time to truly fear the confined space. A light breeze merely rustled through her hair.