October 18, 2025 • 28 mins
A robot enters the ring to fight for the middleweight championship, but it’s not the title belt that hangs in the balance so much as what he’s being encouraged to say to the crowd when he wins… if he wins.
“Title Fight” by William Gault (Fantastic Universe December 1956)
“Title Fight” by William Gault (Fantastic Universe December 1956)
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Title fight by William Galt, published originally in Fantastic Universe,
December nineteen fifty six. The sounds from above were dim
in the dressing room. Over his head, between him and
the thousands of fans were the tons of concrete, robot made. Concrete,
man conceived, but robot made. He looked down at his hands,
(00:24):
his strong, short fingered hands, complete with fingerprints but of protonol.
You'd know it to look at them. In man's image
he was made. In God's image, man was made if
one believed in that anymore. In man's image he was made,
but not with man's status. His name was Alex thirteen forty,
(00:49):
which meant only that he was the thirteen hundred and
fortieth of Alex type, the short broad Nordic type. In
about twenty minutes he was due in the ring. He
was fighting for the middleweight championship of the world. Joe
Nettleton had dreamed that one up. It had been born
in the verbiage of his daily syndicated sports column, nurtured
(01:12):
by the fans clamor, and fanned into reality by what
animosity These robots were coming up in the world, getting
too big for their breeches. Nick Nolan would show this
Alex his place. Nick was the champ, a man made
in his image. He butted and thumbed, and gouged and healed.
(01:35):
His favorite target was the groin. But he was a man.
Oh yes, he was a man, a champion among men.
Manny came in. His real title was Manuel forty three
O seven, but robots liked to forget the numbers. He
was Manny, Alex's manager and number one second, a deft
(01:57):
and sharp and able robot. Manny. He said, I thought
it would be better if we were alone, no fans especially,
and I've had a belly full of sports writers, even
Joe Nettleton. Alex asked, Joe's on our side, isn't he?
It's odd to say. Do you ever wonder about here? Malex?
(02:20):
Alex didn't answer right away. He knew there were robots
who passed, went over the status line and lived as humans.
He didn't know how many there were, and he often
wondered about them. In every robot brain there was a
remote controlled circuit breaker. They could be stopped with the
throwing of a switch. At the personnel center, there was
(02:42):
a well guarded office and a man on duty at
that center twenty four hours of every day. Now, Alex said,
I never thought much about Joe either way. What have
you been thinking, man, he asked, I've been thinking, Alex said, slowly,
that we fight man's war and pulverate his garbage and
(03:02):
dehydrate his sewerage. But we're not citizens, Why, Manny, We're
not human, We're not Orthodox. Many was watching him closely
as he spoke, not human. They feed us Bach and
Brahms and Beethoven and Shakespeare and Voltaire in our incubation period,
(03:23):
don't they? And all the others I've forced myself to forget.
Does this soul come from somewhere outside the system. I
guess he does. They don't feed us much religion, but
I guess it comes from God. And what's he like?
It would depend upon who you ask, I guess, Many said,
(03:45):
sort of a superman. From him. They get their charity
and tolerance and justice, and ought the rested their noble attributes.
Manny's laugh was bitter. Now they love themselves, they're so
sure about everything else, Alex said, but not very sure
of their God. Is that it? It's boutty it? I
(04:08):
heard one man say he watches when a sparrow falls.
I guess we're less than the sparrows, Alex. There was
a silence, and then Manny put a hand on Alex's shoulder.
We got about fifteen minutes, and I got a million
things to say. Maybe I should have said them earlier.
Alex turned at the gravity of Manny's voice. His litmagil
(04:30):
eyes went over Manny's dark face, absorbing his rigid intensity.
Whatever it was that was coming, it was more important
than the fight, Manny said quietly. When this one and
blood will run in the streets, Alex, human blood, white
man's blood. We got the Negro and the jet and
(04:51):
the Chinamen and all the rest of them who got
their rights so recently, And what kind of rights have
they got? Sivil not into people's hearts. You think those
races don't know it. We were talking of their god, Alex. Well,
the robots have one two. His name is Alex thirteen forty. Manny,
(05:11):
you've gone crazy, have I? Joe Nettleton's one of us, Alex.
This was his scheme. And the four men who run
the switch at the personnel center, they're hours too. Top robots.
There are cus all crowd in two hundred. We got
the brains, Alex and the manpower. We got the combined
(05:33):
venom of a billion none whites, and now we've got
you a pug. What kind of god would I make?
You're off the beam, manny Am, I did I ever
give you anything but the straight dope. They adore you, Alex.
You'd better model to them. You could be their king
(05:53):
if you say the word. You've been setting this up.
You and Joe Nettleton fight Tonight's the crisis given building
toward tonight, But it kicks a front man, a symbol.
You're the only one who could be that. You're the
only one they'd all back. Alex looked again at his hands,
(06:14):
the hands that had taken him to the first mixed
fight in history, to a title fight, man versus the machine.
Most of the sports subscribes had labeled it, though not
Joe Nettleton, a machine, A machine that had assimilated Voltaire,
a machine that had listened to Brahms. What differentiates man
(06:35):
from his machines? Supremacy? Supremacy would be established tonight. No,
it wasn't physical supremacy, and there were robots far beyond
man's mental powers. The spark, then, the spark from their God.
How did they know they had it? In all the
(06:56):
wrangling mysticism that had gone through so many direct misinterpretations,
where could they find their God? Thinking it over, many
asked why he's so quiet, Alex. Alex's grand was saturnine.
Believe it or not. I was thinking of God. They
are God? Alex frowned. I suppose bears and the sparrows.
(07:23):
There were three spaced knocks at the door. Manny said
Joe Nettleton, he wants to talk to you. We got
about eight minutes, Alex. He went to the door. Joe
Nettleton was tall and pale and brown eyed. The eyes
should be lumagel and Alex studied them but could note
no difference from those of a man. Joe said to Manny,
(07:45):
he knows. Manny nodded. Joe turned back, Well, Alex, I
don't know. It's it's monstrous, it's He shrugged his shoulders
and pounded one hand into the palm of the eye.
There you're it, Alex, king God what you will. For
six years, I've built you up in their papers, in
(08:08):
their minds, clean, quiet, hard working Alex and humble. Oh
the humility I gave you has made me cry at times.
Manny said, in mild protest, he ain't yet to build
that angle much. Alex is humble, Alex is he's, He's
(08:28):
and the articulate. Manny had no words. Joe Nettleton's pale
face was cynical. He said, the way you feel is
the way they all feel. The black ones out there,
and the brown ones and the yellow ones. They've got
their rights, Alex said. Have they take a look at
the first twenty rows ringside, You'll see what rights they have,
(08:51):
word rights, paper rights, but not in the hearts of men. Oh,
the grapes of wrath are out there, Alex, beyond the
tw you throw. Haven't you any sense of history of destiny?
Alex didn't answer. Man He said, he's be thinking of God.
He chills me. Joe Nelton's face was blank. God, their God.
(09:17):
He looked at Alex, wonderingly, this superman they scare us with.
You don't need that malarkey, do you, Alex. Alex shrugged,
saying nothing. They don't believe it themselves. Joe protested, it's
one of those symbols they set up to make them superior.
They ever tell you what he looks like? Oh, they
(09:39):
give him a prophet, sure, and the prophet gives them
words to live by. Don't kill, don't steal, don't lie,
don't must, don't envy. Words Alex words words, words judge
them by their actions. Alex looked up. I'm not cut
(10:00):
out to be a leader. Yes you are, And I
cut you out in their minds with words. The brown
ones read me, and the black ones and the yellow ones,
and I built you up in their minds, and tonight
they'll wait for a signal from you. Uh, signal from me?
Are you what? A signal from you? To those in
(10:22):
the crowd, to those watching on the video screens, the
ones who are briefed and know about rioting about how
to steer a revolution. Think of the irony of it.
Man's prejudice building the army of resentment, and man's genius
building the machines that army can use to destroy. Man,
white man, white man. First First, Manny said, you got
(10:49):
dreams to be on tonight Joe. Joe smiled disarmingly. I
use too many words. That one got away. We can't
think beyond tonight now, well, he turned to Alex. It's
not an involved signal, Alex is just one word. The
word is kill from you. It's more than a word,
(11:11):
it's an order. There was a knock the door, and
the snobray above the door said time to go, time
for the big one. All three were silent, and then
Joe put a hand on Alex's shoulder. You can't give
the signal from your back, Alex, You'd better be standing
up when this one is over with. Alex looked at Joe,
(11:33):
trying to read behind those brown eyes. Alex said, I'll
be standing up. There's never been a second I doubted that.
They went out, and there was a clamor a ring
of scribes in the corridor beyond the showers. One of
them voiced it for all of them, what the hell
is thish many? Joe a cousin or shopped in. How
(11:54):
about a statement? Mandy looked at them bleakly. We OpEd
the wind, but we're up against the superior being. It's
in God's lap. Cynical men. But they resented the blasphemy
coming from a robot, Joe said, and Alex is his prophet,
who's betting? What? No answer? They stared at Joe, and
(12:18):
some wrote down a few words. One of them looked
at Alex, How about you, Alex? How do you feel? Alex?
The humble, the new day Uncle Tom, the subservient. Alex
lifted his chin and didn't smile. Confident I'll win, how
another asked, hitting him harder and oftener. What's he got
(12:42):
but a hook and an iron jaw guts. One of
them said, you gotta hand that to him, Alex. I
concede nothing. Alex answered, We'll see you tonight. There were
no further questions. They went down the long aisle that
(13:02):
led to the bright ring Manny and Alex and the
other handler who'd been waiting in the prelimb boy's shower room.
Eighty thousand people in the bowl, a clear, warm night,
and millions watching on the video screens around the globe.
Video hadn't hurt this one. This was history, a robot
crossing the status line. They wanted to be a part
(13:25):
of this. The referee was black, Willy Newton. It would
look like less favoritism if the referee was black, reasoned
the white man in their left handed reasoning, bugs around
the arcs and big Ebony Willie in his striped shirt,
waiting in the ring, smiling, just happening to be in
Alex's corner. As he climbed through, Willie bent, pretending to
(13:49):
help part the ropes. Willie whispered, You'll get all the
brakes you need, Alex. Alex came through and stood erect.
I don't want a single break, Willie, just a fair shake.
You can understand. It has to be like that. I can't, Alex.
I'm sorry about the name. Just Alex, or I could
(14:09):
blur the rest Alex one three four to zero, not blurred.
It's my name. He turned from Willie, then acknowledging the
thunder behind him, both hands high in salute. He could
see the rows stretching out from ringside. The first twenty
all white. Most of the thunder came from high in
the stands. And now the champ came down his aisle,
(14:33):
his faded purple dressing robe across his bulky shoulders. His
handlers are respectful few paces behind him Nick Nolan, the
middleweight champion of the world. His ears were lumpy, his
brows ridged with scar tissue, his round head centered on
those bulky shoulders, apparently with no neck to connect them,
A fringe of red hair, and a brutal, thick featured
(14:56):
face made in his image. Some words ran through Alex's mind.
Is this the thing Lord God made and gave to
have dominion over a sea and land? This was a
hell of a time to be recalling Markham. Nick came
over to his corner, the false geniality on his face
(15:18):
as phony as the gesture of a champ coming to
the challenger's corner. Nick said, best between us? Huh the better?
Alex corrected him, Leave them above the belt, Nick, Nick grinned,
don't I always? I came up the hard way, Alex.
Alex said nothing, staring when this dumb terror shall rise
(15:41):
to judge the world a man with a hook, and
then urged to combat the hard way. Maybe he taken
enough punches to give him a lifetime lease on Queer Street,
but he'd handed out more than he'd received. A spoiler
and a mixer, await daper and in fighter and an
(16:01):
easy bleeder. Blood run in the streets, Alex. In the ring,
Nick's blood would flow and further stain the spotted canvas
in the streets. The blood of Nick's brothers would flow
in the streets around the world Title fight. Oh yes,
the Irish ban First he'd come up through the ring
(16:23):
to his grudging equality, and the jew then and the Filipino,
and the Negro and the Cuban, and all the others
who wouldn't stay down, who had their fists and their guts.
Mickey Walker, Benny Leonard, Joe Lewis, immortals, all great men,
great champs, great memories. And he Alex thirteen forty different,
(16:48):
a machine, no spark. He'd almost forgotten about. No spark.
Nick's manager came over to inspect the bandages on Alex's hands,
and then went back to his corner with Manny to
inspect those on the battered hands of the champ. Alex's
hands were clean lined, no brakes, no lumps. Alex was
(17:08):
a scientific hitter and his protocol was better than the
natural product. He watches the sparrows. Manny had said a signal,
Joe had said, I wish somebody would give me a signal.
Alex thought it's too big for me. Introductions, the numbers
not blurred, the instructions, and Willie saying, plead, do not Dick.
(17:32):
I know you well, Dick, but this what is touchy?
Remember ah save it? Nick told him. Champ, big Man,
Nick Nolan, the Buzzer and Manny's brief pat on the shoulder,
rising and flexing on the ropes, looking down in that
sea of faces, white faces, the ones who held dominion
(17:52):
over sea and land bugs in the arcs, the hush
on the crowd, and the bell. Alex turned, and here
Nick shuffling across, wasting no time bringing the fight to
the upstart. Nick had a right hand, too, but it
was clumsy. The hook was better trained. Alex circled to
his left, away from Nick's left, and put his jab
(18:13):
easily to Nick's nose. There are sports writers, Alex knew
who talked of a right hook, but a man would
need to be a contortionist to throw it, unless he
was completely unorthodox or a southpaw. Nick was neither. Nick
had a right hand like a mallet, but it came
from below or above, and was telegraphed by the pulling
(18:34):
up of his right foot. Nick saved that for the
time his opponent couldn't see or react. Nick came in
with the hook, trying to slide under Alex's extended left hand,
trying to time the pattern of his feet to Alex's circling,
looking for the hole. Alex peppered him with the left
and then saw the low left hand of Nick's Alex
stopped circling and tossed a singing right. It traveled over
(18:57):
Nick's left and found the button. Nick took two stumbling
backward steps and went down resin dust swirled, and the
scream of the stands was like a single, anguished cry.
Alex went to a neutral corner, shrugging his shoulder muscles loose,
trying to still the sudden pounding of his heart. Nick
had been knocked down before often. He took a full
(19:19):
count under the rules, but was on one knee at three.
The big black semaphore of Willy's right hand, and then
those hands wiping the gloves, and Willie stepping clear. Nick
stormed in. He got through Alex's left this time and
set a looping right hand high. It missed, but it
was meant to miss. Nick's elbow smashed Alex's mouth, rage
(19:42):
a red rage. As they stood in the corner trading leather,
the hook came in low and pain knifed into Alex's groin.
In his aching blindness, he could feel Nick's feet groping
for his trying to find his instep champion model. Alex
grabbed and hung on the one he had to win.
This one could be lost right now. Nick said, break
(20:05):
it up, Phony, Man, I can't hit you when you're
hanging on the big slap of Willy's hand. Willie playing
it straight. Alex broke at the touch, Alex broke, and
Nick threw the right hand on the brake, foul, of course.
But Alex went down, his senses numb, his mind turning black.
(20:26):
He lay on his face, not moving, the blackness moving
through his body. What's this god like? It would depend
upon who you ask, They ever telling you what he
looks like. The blackness turned red, the red of blood
running in the streets, and there was suddenly across and
a dim figure, and he heard Willy's Sodorus five six.
(20:49):
He turned over at seven, was on one knee at eight,
and up at nine, and Nick came, bulling in both hands,
ready the bell. He got to his corner with Manny's help,
the magic of Manny's hands dug at his neck, bringing clarity,
the ice, the other handler probing, and his flasted legs.
I saw a cross, Manny. Nobody's crossing unless the Alex.
(21:12):
Don't think Alex here He gave him the water bottle.
Alex wrenched his mouth and spit it out. He's rough, Manny.
He knows all the tricks, don't you. I don't want to.
I saw a cross when I was unconscious, Manny, across
like you see on a church. Don't tell me about it.
Get him, boy, don't try to mix with him, but
(21:34):
get him. We get left, we go, speed, we go.
Bring get him. I'll try, but he's not typical Manny.
They're not all like Nick. The hell they aunt. He's
one of the better ones. Get him the buzzer, the
bell and Nick. Nick with his iron jaw, Nick with
a hook and the bulging shoulders, Nick the champion. Alex
(21:56):
put the left in the Knick's face, but it wasn't
a jab. It was a straight left with shoulder in it.
It twisted Nick's nose and brought blood. Nick was nettled,
and he charged. He charged into a straight, sweet right
hand that was delivered from a flat footed stance. Nick
wavered and tried to grab. Alex felt his strength pour
back and the pattern of his feet was sure, and
(22:18):
planned a left, a faint, a jolting right, moving around
this hulk, this blunderingnot of flesh and muscle, beating a
tattoo on him, spreading the blood get him. It looked
like a slaughterhouse. Blood all over Nick's face and blood
matting the curled, sweaty hair on his chest. Starting to
look dazed, starting to wonder the champ, the untypical man
(22:41):
he must be, he had to be to have dominion
over sea and land. Why didn't he go down? Couldn't
he see the pattern of it, the pattern Alex was
tracing for him with his blood soaked gloves. Why didn't
he go down? Why didn't he quit? He hadn't quit
by the end of the fifth round out there, those
eight eight thousand were silent. This was no fight, This
(23:03):
was now murder. Why didn't he quit? Alex asked Manny
on the stool before the sixth Why doesn't he quit?
He can't win, Manny, I hate to hit him. Don't
be a sucker, don't be a damned fool. Manny's voice
was hoarse. As long as there's a spark of life
in those bastards, they won't quit. He's dangerous yet, Alex.
(23:28):
Spark spark life, cognizance, no life, a spark of life.
In the sixth Nick almost went to his knees in
the middle of the ring, but he got control and
stumbled toward Alex. Alex came in fast and carelessly, and
the earth erupted. He's dangerous yet, Alex. There was no
(23:51):
blackness this time, just the blood red. There was no cross,
but a voice in the sky in this guy silence.
Get up, Alex, for the black and brown and red
and yellow who are watching you around the world. Get up.
You were their hope, you were their word. Up to
(24:13):
one knee and up, just under the wire. Nick didn't
charge this time, wary and careful he was after the
pasting he'd been taking. Let Alex make the mistakes like
the one he just had. Nick only needed one more.
Manny said, can you heed him now? Still mourning for him?
Are you? Alex said, I'm a machine, Manny. He can't
(24:37):
hurt me. I can hurt him, but he can't hurt me.
Det it's my boy, Manny said, I'm glad you know
what side of defence you're on. Finally, I know my place.
Alex said, I know my job there. You do get him.
He got him. They don't quit these men, not while
(25:00):
they're conscious, not while they're alive. Alex hit him everywhere
there was room to hit with both hands, knocking him
down four times in the seventh round, each time Nick
got up, and in the eighth he came out to
meet Alex walking into his doom, not flinching, not hiding,
putting his crown on the line supremacy. Nick had it,
(25:23):
bastard though he was. But for how long? How long
could he stay that dumb and still live? Nick came out,
his low hands, a farce of a defense. How long
could he hold the animosity down with his arrogance and
his brutality and his shoddiness. How much time did he have?
Alex knew. Nick came out for the eighth and Alex
(25:47):
hit him with a solid right hand. He didn't set
it up or faint Nick into the spot or hesitate.
There wasn't any need to. He put all his weight
and most of his bitterness into the button shot that
made him middleweight champion of the world. Silence shocked, Silence
at the history before them, and then from the far seats,
(26:08):
from the cheap seats, acclamation. The video cameras covered the ring,
the crowd, The lights went on all over the huge bowl.
Manny hugged him. Joe Nettleton hugged him and others In
the far seats, no one moved. In the near seats,
no one moved. Joe said the word, Alex. They were
(26:32):
bringing the banked microphones over, the microphones that would carry
the word all over the world. The cameras trained on
him the word. He looked at Joe and Manny. He
brought the mics to mouth level and moved back a bit.
He said, I want tonight. I've no message for you,
but someone has. It's in the sky. Craning necks, a murmur,
(26:59):
the camera, leaving Alex. As the operators swung the huge
machines toward the red letters in the sky beside him.
Many gasped. Joe Nettleton stared, unbelieving his mouth slack. Red
letters something like red but luminous and miles high and definite.
The cameras were trained directly on it. Now find your God,
(27:25):
Manny said, Alex, how uh are you? Did you? Alex?
What in hell are you? There's more to it they
don't know. Alex said, it's find your God or your
machines will kill you. I don't think there's any need
to tell them the rest. If they obey the first
Manny said hoarsely, ooh, but this message came through. You're
(27:49):
a prophet, me a machine Alex thirteen forty Joe said,
you're not sending out the other word, not yet. It's
not time. How do you know, Manny cut in, how
do you know if it's time or not? And if
dear God wanted to send a message, why should he
(28:09):
use a machine? Why should he use you? Because Aleck said,
no man would listen. And if they don't listen, now, Manny,
our time will come
Title fight by William Galt, published originally in Fantastic Universe,
December nineteen fifty six. The sounds from above were dim
in the dressing room. Over his head, between him and
the thousands of fans were the tons of concrete, robot made. Concrete,
man conceived, but robot made. He looked down at his hands,
(00:24):
his strong, short fingered hands, complete with fingerprints but of protonol.
You'd know it to look at them. In man's image
he was made. In God's image, man was made if
one believed in that anymore. In man's image he was made,
but not with man's status. His name was Alex thirteen forty,
(00:49):
which meant only that he was the thirteen hundred and
fortieth of Alex type, the short broad Nordic type. In
about twenty minutes he was due in the ring. He
was fighting for the middleweight championship of the world. Joe
Nettleton had dreamed that one up. It had been born
in the verbiage of his daily syndicated sports column, nurtured
(01:12):
by the fans clamor, and fanned into reality by what
animosity These robots were coming up in the world, getting
too big for their breeches. Nick Nolan would show this
Alex his place. Nick was the champ, a man made
in his image. He butted and thumbed, and gouged and healed.
(01:35):
His favorite target was the groin. But he was a man.
Oh yes, he was a man, a champion among men.
Manny came in. His real title was Manuel forty three
O seven, but robots liked to forget the numbers. He
was Manny, Alex's manager and number one second, a deft
(01:57):
and sharp and able robot. Manny. He said, I thought
it would be better if we were alone, no fans especially,
and I've had a belly full of sports writers, even
Joe Nettleton. Alex asked, Joe's on our side, isn't he?
It's odd to say. Do you ever wonder about here? Malex?
(02:20):
Alex didn't answer right away. He knew there were robots
who passed, went over the status line and lived as humans.
He didn't know how many there were, and he often
wondered about them. In every robot brain there was a
remote controlled circuit breaker. They could be stopped with the
throwing of a switch. At the personnel center, there was
(02:42):
a well guarded office and a man on duty at
that center twenty four hours of every day. Now, Alex said,
I never thought much about Joe either way. What have
you been thinking, man, he asked, I've been thinking, Alex said, slowly,
that we fight man's war and pulverate his garbage and
(03:02):
dehydrate his sewerage. But we're not citizens, Why, Manny, We're
not human, We're not Orthodox. Many was watching him closely
as he spoke, not human. They feed us Bach and
Brahms and Beethoven and Shakespeare and Voltaire in our incubation period,
(03:23):
don't they? And all the others I've forced myself to forget.
Does this soul come from somewhere outside the system. I
guess he does. They don't feed us much religion, but
I guess it comes from God. And what's he like?
It would depend upon who you ask, I guess, Many said,
(03:45):
sort of a superman. From him. They get their charity
and tolerance and justice, and ought the rested their noble attributes.
Manny's laugh was bitter. Now they love themselves, they're so
sure about everything else, Alex said, but not very sure
of their God. Is that it? It's boutty it? I
(04:08):
heard one man say he watches when a sparrow falls.
I guess we're less than the sparrows, Alex. There was
a silence, and then Manny put a hand on Alex's shoulder.
We got about fifteen minutes, and I got a million
things to say. Maybe I should have said them earlier.
Alex turned at the gravity of Manny's voice. His litmagil
(04:30):
eyes went over Manny's dark face, absorbing his rigid intensity.
Whatever it was that was coming, it was more important
than the fight, Manny said quietly. When this one and
blood will run in the streets, Alex, human blood, white
man's blood. We got the Negro and the jet and
(04:51):
the Chinamen and all the rest of them who got
their rights so recently, And what kind of rights have
they got? Sivil not into people's hearts. You think those
races don't know it. We were talking of their god, Alex. Well,
the robots have one two. His name is Alex thirteen forty. Manny,
(05:11):
you've gone crazy, have I? Joe Nettleton's one of us, Alex.
This was his scheme. And the four men who run
the switch at the personnel center, they're hours too. Top robots.
There are cus all crowd in two hundred. We got
the brains, Alex and the manpower. We got the combined
(05:33):
venom of a billion none whites, and now we've got
you a pug. What kind of god would I make?
You're off the beam, manny Am, I did I ever
give you anything but the straight dope. They adore you, Alex.
You'd better model to them. You could be their king
(05:53):
if you say the word. You've been setting this up.
You and Joe Nettleton fight Tonight's the crisis given building
toward tonight, But it kicks a front man, a symbol.
You're the only one who could be that. You're the
only one they'd all back. Alex looked again at his hands,
(06:14):
the hands that had taken him to the first mixed
fight in history, to a title fight, man versus the machine.
Most of the sports subscribes had labeled it, though not
Joe Nettleton, a machine, A machine that had assimilated Voltaire,
a machine that had listened to Brahms. What differentiates man
(06:35):
from his machines? Supremacy? Supremacy would be established tonight. No,
it wasn't physical supremacy, and there were robots far beyond
man's mental powers. The spark, then, the spark from their God.
How did they know they had it? In all the
(06:56):
wrangling mysticism that had gone through so many direct misinterpretations,
where could they find their God? Thinking it over, many
asked why he's so quiet, Alex. Alex's grand was saturnine.
Believe it or not. I was thinking of God. They
are God? Alex frowned. I suppose bears and the sparrows.
(07:23):
There were three spaced knocks at the door. Manny said
Joe Nettleton, he wants to talk to you. We got
about eight minutes, Alex. He went to the door. Joe
Nettleton was tall and pale and brown eyed. The eyes
should be lumagel and Alex studied them but could note
no difference from those of a man. Joe said to Manny,
(07:45):
he knows. Manny nodded. Joe turned back, Well, Alex, I
don't know. It's it's monstrous, it's He shrugged his shoulders
and pounded one hand into the palm of the eye.
There you're it, Alex, king God what you will. For
six years, I've built you up in their papers, in
(08:08):
their minds, clean, quiet, hard working Alex and humble. Oh
the humility I gave you has made me cry at times.
Manny said, in mild protest, he ain't yet to build
that angle much. Alex is humble, Alex is he's, He's
(08:28):
and the articulate. Manny had no words. Joe Nettleton's pale
face was cynical. He said, the way you feel is
the way they all feel. The black ones out there,
and the brown ones and the yellow ones. They've got
their rights, Alex said. Have they take a look at
the first twenty rows ringside, You'll see what rights they have,
(08:51):
word rights, paper rights, but not in the hearts of men. Oh,
the grapes of wrath are out there, Alex, beyond the
tw you throw. Haven't you any sense of history of destiny?
Alex didn't answer. Man He said, he's be thinking of God.
He chills me. Joe Nelton's face was blank. God, their God.
(09:17):
He looked at Alex, wonderingly, this superman they scare us with.
You don't need that malarkey, do you, Alex. Alex shrugged,
saying nothing. They don't believe it themselves. Joe protested, it's
one of those symbols they set up to make them superior.
They ever tell you what he looks like? Oh, they
(09:39):
give him a prophet, sure, and the prophet gives them
words to live by. Don't kill, don't steal, don't lie,
don't must, don't envy. Words Alex words words, words judge
them by their actions. Alex looked up. I'm not cut
(10:00):
out to be a leader. Yes you are, And I
cut you out in their minds with words. The brown
ones read me, and the black ones and the yellow ones,
and I built you up in their minds, and tonight
they'll wait for a signal from you. Uh, signal from me?
Are you what? A signal from you? To those in
(10:22):
the crowd, to those watching on the video screens, the
ones who are briefed and know about rioting about how
to steer a revolution. Think of the irony of it.
Man's prejudice building the army of resentment, and man's genius
building the machines that army can use to destroy. Man,
white man, white man. First First, Manny said, you got
(10:49):
dreams to be on tonight Joe. Joe smiled disarmingly. I
use too many words. That one got away. We can't
think beyond tonight now, well, he turned to Alex. It's
not an involved signal, Alex is just one word. The
word is kill from you. It's more than a word,
(11:11):
it's an order. There was a knock the door, and
the snobray above the door said time to go, time
for the big one. All three were silent, and then
Joe put a hand on Alex's shoulder. You can't give
the signal from your back, Alex, You'd better be standing
up when this one is over with. Alex looked at Joe,
(11:33):
trying to read behind those brown eyes. Alex said, I'll
be standing up. There's never been a second I doubted that.
They went out, and there was a clamor a ring
of scribes in the corridor beyond the showers. One of
them voiced it for all of them, what the hell
is thish many? Joe a cousin or shopped in. How
(11:54):
about a statement? Mandy looked at them bleakly. We OpEd
the wind, but we're up against the superior being. It's
in God's lap. Cynical men. But they resented the blasphemy
coming from a robot, Joe said, and Alex is his prophet,
who's betting? What? No answer? They stared at Joe, and
(12:18):
some wrote down a few words. One of them looked
at Alex, How about you, Alex? How do you feel? Alex?
The humble, the new day Uncle Tom, the subservient. Alex
lifted his chin and didn't smile. Confident I'll win, how
another asked, hitting him harder and oftener. What's he got
(12:42):
but a hook and an iron jaw guts. One of
them said, you gotta hand that to him, Alex. I
concede nothing. Alex answered, We'll see you tonight. There were
no further questions. They went down the long aisle that
(13:02):
led to the bright ring Manny and Alex and the
other handler who'd been waiting in the prelimb boy's shower room.
Eighty thousand people in the bowl, a clear, warm night,
and millions watching on the video screens around the globe.
Video hadn't hurt this one. This was history, a robot
crossing the status line. They wanted to be a part
(13:25):
of this. The referee was black, Willy Newton. It would
look like less favoritism if the referee was black, reasoned
the white man in their left handed reasoning, bugs around
the arcs and big Ebony Willie in his striped shirt,
waiting in the ring, smiling, just happening to be in
Alex's corner. As he climbed through, Willie bent, pretending to
(13:49):
help part the ropes. Willie whispered, You'll get all the
brakes you need, Alex. Alex came through and stood erect.
I don't want a single break, Willie, just a fair shake.
You can understand. It has to be like that. I can't, Alex.
I'm sorry about the name. Just Alex, or I could
(14:09):
blur the rest Alex one three four to zero, not blurred.
It's my name. He turned from Willie, then acknowledging the
thunder behind him, both hands high in salute. He could
see the rows stretching out from ringside. The first twenty
all white. Most of the thunder came from high in
the stands. And now the champ came down his aisle,
(14:33):
his faded purple dressing robe across his bulky shoulders. His
handlers are respectful few paces behind him Nick Nolan, the
middleweight champion of the world. His ears were lumpy, his
brows ridged with scar tissue, his round head centered on
those bulky shoulders, apparently with no neck to connect them,
A fringe of red hair, and a brutal, thick featured
(14:56):
face made in his image. Some words ran through Alex's mind.
Is this the thing Lord God made and gave to
have dominion over a sea and land? This was a
hell of a time to be recalling Markham. Nick came
over to his corner, the false geniality on his face
(15:18):
as phony as the gesture of a champ coming to
the challenger's corner. Nick said, best between us? Huh the better?
Alex corrected him, Leave them above the belt, Nick, Nick grinned,
don't I always? I came up the hard way, Alex.
Alex said nothing, staring when this dumb terror shall rise
(15:41):
to judge the world a man with a hook, and
then urged to combat the hard way. Maybe he taken
enough punches to give him a lifetime lease on Queer Street,
but he'd handed out more than he'd received. A spoiler
and a mixer, await daper and in fighter and an
(16:01):
easy bleeder. Blood run in the streets, Alex. In the ring,
Nick's blood would flow and further stain the spotted canvas
in the streets. The blood of Nick's brothers would flow
in the streets around the world Title fight. Oh yes,
the Irish ban First he'd come up through the ring
(16:23):
to his grudging equality, and the jew then and the Filipino,
and the Negro and the Cuban, and all the others
who wouldn't stay down, who had their fists and their guts.
Mickey Walker, Benny Leonard, Joe Lewis, immortals, all great men,
great champs, great memories. And he Alex thirteen forty different,
(16:48):
a machine, no spark. He'd almost forgotten about. No spark.
Nick's manager came over to inspect the bandages on Alex's hands,
and then went back to his corner with Manny to
inspect those on the battered hands of the champ. Alex's
hands were clean lined, no brakes, no lumps. Alex was
(17:08):
a scientific hitter and his protocol was better than the
natural product. He watches the sparrows. Manny had said a signal,
Joe had said, I wish somebody would give me a signal.
Alex thought it's too big for me. Introductions, the numbers
not blurred, the instructions, and Willie saying, plead, do not Dick.
(17:32):
I know you well, Dick, but this what is touchy?
Remember ah save it? Nick told him. Champ, big Man,
Nick Nolan, the Buzzer and Manny's brief pat on the shoulder,
rising and flexing on the ropes, looking down in that
sea of faces, white faces, the ones who held dominion
(17:52):
over sea and land bugs in the arcs, the hush
on the crowd, and the bell. Alex turned, and here
Nick shuffling across, wasting no time bringing the fight to
the upstart. Nick had a right hand, too, but it
was clumsy. The hook was better trained. Alex circled to
his left, away from Nick's left, and put his jab
(18:13):
easily to Nick's nose. There are sports writers, Alex knew
who talked of a right hook, but a man would
need to be a contortionist to throw it, unless he
was completely unorthodox or a southpaw. Nick was neither. Nick
had a right hand like a mallet, but it came
from below or above, and was telegraphed by the pulling
(18:34):
up of his right foot. Nick saved that for the
time his opponent couldn't see or react. Nick came in
with the hook, trying to slide under Alex's extended left hand,
trying to time the pattern of his feet to Alex's circling,
looking for the hole. Alex peppered him with the left
and then saw the low left hand of Nick's Alex
stopped circling and tossed a singing right. It traveled over
(18:57):
Nick's left and found the button. Nick took two stumbling
backward steps and went down resin dust swirled, and the
scream of the stands was like a single, anguished cry.
Alex went to a neutral corner, shrugging his shoulder muscles loose,
trying to still the sudden pounding of his heart. Nick
had been knocked down before often. He took a full
(19:19):
count under the rules, but was on one knee at three.
The big black semaphore of Willy's right hand, and then
those hands wiping the gloves, and Willie stepping clear. Nick
stormed in. He got through Alex's left this time and
set a looping right hand high. It missed, but it
was meant to miss. Nick's elbow smashed Alex's mouth, rage
(19:42):
a red rage. As they stood in the corner trading leather,
the hook came in low and pain knifed into Alex's groin.
In his aching blindness, he could feel Nick's feet groping
for his trying to find his instep champion model. Alex
grabbed and hung on the one he had to win.
This one could be lost right now. Nick said, break
(20:05):
it up, Phony, Man, I can't hit you when you're
hanging on the big slap of Willy's hand. Willie playing
it straight. Alex broke at the touch, Alex broke, and
Nick threw the right hand on the brake, foul, of course.
But Alex went down, his senses numb, his mind turning black.
(20:26):
He lay on his face, not moving, the blackness moving
through his body. What's this god like? It would depend
upon who you ask, They ever telling you what he
looks like. The blackness turned red, the red of blood
running in the streets, and there was suddenly across and
a dim figure, and he heard Willy's Sodorus five six.
(20:49):
He turned over at seven, was on one knee at eight,
and up at nine, and Nick came, bulling in both hands,
ready the bell. He got to his corner with Manny's help,
the magic of Manny's hands dug at his neck, bringing clarity,
the ice, the other handler probing, and his flasted legs.
I saw a cross, Manny. Nobody's crossing unless the Alex.
(21:12):
Don't think Alex here He gave him the water bottle.
Alex wrenched his mouth and spit it out. He's rough, Manny.
He knows all the tricks, don't you. I don't want to.
I saw a cross when I was unconscious, Manny, across
like you see on a church. Don't tell me about it.
Get him, boy, don't try to mix with him, but
(21:34):
get him. We get left, we go, speed, we go.
Bring get him. I'll try, but he's not typical Manny.
They're not all like Nick. The hell they aunt. He's
one of the better ones. Get him the buzzer, the
bell and Nick. Nick with his iron jaw, Nick with
a hook and the bulging shoulders, Nick the champion. Alex
(21:56):
put the left in the Knick's face, but it wasn't
a jab. It was a straight left with shoulder in it.
It twisted Nick's nose and brought blood. Nick was nettled,
and he charged. He charged into a straight, sweet right
hand that was delivered from a flat footed stance. Nick
wavered and tried to grab. Alex felt his strength pour
back and the pattern of his feet was sure, and
(22:18):
planned a left, a faint, a jolting right, moving around
this hulk, this blunderingnot of flesh and muscle, beating a
tattoo on him, spreading the blood get him. It looked
like a slaughterhouse. Blood all over Nick's face and blood
matting the curled, sweaty hair on his chest. Starting to
look dazed, starting to wonder the champ, the untypical man
(22:41):
he must be, he had to be to have dominion
over sea and land. Why didn't he go down? Couldn't
he see the pattern of it, the pattern Alex was
tracing for him with his blood soaked gloves. Why didn't
he go down? Why didn't he quit? He hadn't quit
by the end of the fifth round out there, those
eight eight thousand were silent. This was no fight, This
(23:03):
was now murder. Why didn't he quit? Alex asked Manny
on the stool before the sixth Why doesn't he quit?
He can't win, Manny, I hate to hit him. Don't
be a sucker, don't be a damned fool. Manny's voice
was hoarse. As long as there's a spark of life
in those bastards, they won't quit. He's dangerous yet, Alex.
(23:28):
Spark spark life, cognizance, no life, a spark of life.
In the sixth Nick almost went to his knees in
the middle of the ring, but he got control and
stumbled toward Alex. Alex came in fast and carelessly, and
the earth erupted. He's dangerous yet, Alex. There was no
(23:51):
blackness this time, just the blood red. There was no cross,
but a voice in the sky in this guy silence.
Get up, Alex, for the black and brown and red
and yellow who are watching you around the world. Get up.
You were their hope, you were their word. Up to
(24:13):
one knee and up, just under the wire. Nick didn't
charge this time, wary and careful he was after the
pasting he'd been taking. Let Alex make the mistakes like
the one he just had. Nick only needed one more.
Manny said, can you heed him now? Still mourning for him?
Are you? Alex said, I'm a machine, Manny. He can't
(24:37):
hurt me. I can hurt him, but he can't hurt me.
Det it's my boy, Manny said, I'm glad you know
what side of defence you're on. Finally, I know my place.
Alex said, I know my job there. You do get him.
He got him. They don't quit these men, not while
(25:00):
they're conscious, not while they're alive. Alex hit him everywhere
there was room to hit with both hands, knocking him
down four times in the seventh round, each time Nick
got up, and in the eighth he came out to
meet Alex walking into his doom, not flinching, not hiding,
putting his crown on the line supremacy. Nick had it,
(25:23):
bastard though he was. But for how long? How long
could he stay that dumb and still live? Nick came out,
his low hands, a farce of a defense. How long
could he hold the animosity down with his arrogance and
his brutality and his shoddiness. How much time did he have?
Alex knew. Nick came out for the eighth and Alex
(25:47):
hit him with a solid right hand. He didn't set
it up or faint Nick into the spot or hesitate.
There wasn't any need to. He put all his weight
and most of his bitterness into the button shot that
made him middleweight champion of the world. Silence shocked, Silence
at the history before them, and then from the far seats,
(26:08):
from the cheap seats, acclamation. The video cameras covered the ring,
the crowd, The lights went on all over the huge bowl.
Manny hugged him. Joe Nettleton hugged him and others In
the far seats, no one moved. In the near seats,
no one moved. Joe said the word, Alex. They were
(26:32):
bringing the banked microphones over, the microphones that would carry
the word all over the world. The cameras trained on
him the word. He looked at Joe and Manny. He
brought the mics to mouth level and moved back a bit.
He said, I want tonight. I've no message for you,
but someone has. It's in the sky. Craning necks, a murmur,
(26:59):
the camera, leaving Alex. As the operators swung the huge
machines toward the red letters in the sky beside him.
Many gasped. Joe Nettleton stared, unbelieving his mouth slack. Red
letters something like red but luminous and miles high and definite.
The cameras were trained directly on it. Now find your God,
(27:25):
Manny said, Alex, how uh are you? Did you? Alex?
What in hell are you? There's more to it they
don't know. Alex said, it's find your God or your
machines will kill you. I don't think there's any need
to tell them the rest. If they obey the first
Manny said hoarsely, ooh, but this message came through. You're
(27:49):
a prophet, me a machine Alex thirteen forty Joe said,
you're not sending out the other word, not yet. It's
not time. How do you know, Manny cut in, how
do you know if it's time or not? And if
dear God wanted to send a message, why should he
(28:09):
use a machine? Why should he use you? Because Aleck said,
no man would listen. And if they don't listen, now, Manny,
our time will come
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