Published:
February 5, 2025
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Submitted for the January 2025 prompt: Galactic Brackets
“Board me again, you single-celled organism, and I’ll knock you the hell out!”
Enrique, the hockey referee, had been warned during the robotics company briefings that this might happen. He skated through the human and robot hockey players to the developing fight.
“I’ll break your face against the boards again, you plumber!” yelled the enforcer, Kronwall. He threw his gloves on the ice and balled his hands into fists. The packed stadium roared.
Enrique skidded to a frothy stop between the pissed-off robot and the scruffy Canadian goon of the human team.
“Knock it off, Zero Five,” said Enrique, placing a hand on the massive bot’s jersey. Its black glass faceplate was cracked but still showed angry red triangles for eyes.
“That hoser,” yelled Zero Five, pointing a steely-knuckled hand at Kronwall, “is violating the rules and damaging my team.”
“Then stop skating in our blind spots!” yelled back Kronwall.
“Skating in your blind spot isn’t against the rules. Boarding is,” stated Zero Five.
Both behemoth players circled each other on the ice as Enrique tried to hold them back. The bloodthirsty stadium's chanting began to rise, competing with the battling brutes' shouting.
Enrique had never seen such fervor over an exhibition game. But with all the smeared blood and oil beneath his skates, he worried that his new gig might not last beyond the second period. Enrique saw new brawls brewing between the bumping human players and robots.
Enrique's temporary fear of losing his job gave Kronwall a window. The Canadian landed a right cross on the robot's face, and the crowd cheered.
Zero Five went still, then raised his steel fist to deliver a punch.
The audible gasps throughout the crowd froze the players across the ice. The shift in reaction stunned the robot players, who also came to a standstill.
“Woah, wait! Do not punch him!” said Enrique, turning to Zero Five and restraining both his hands. “You’ll hurt him!”
”This calls for a fight. Fighting is part of the game,” said Zero Five.
“No, it’s not,” said Enrique.
“The average number of fights in the league has exceeded 1.20 per game. Fighting in hockey has high degrees of entertainment and economic value. So, yes. It is,” responded Zero Five.
“You’re a robot, Zero Five. You can’t fight humans.”
”Am I not a hockey player? Hockey players fight. Why can’t I?”
Enrique glanced at Zero Five's steel gauntlets and then at the angry, cracked faceplate. The crowd returned to banging the hockey rink plexiglass and stomping their feet to a rising chant.
Fight!
“Zero Five, no one wants to get hurt,” said Enrique with sincerity.
Zero Five’s eyes changed from downward angles to circles.
“This is confusing. Where is this written down?” asked Zero Five.
“Yo, nimrod,” said Kronwall, “Not everything is written down in the rules.”
”What?!” exclaimed Zero Five. The remaining robotic team came to a standstill, full of confused blue circles on their faces. “Are you saying you’re cheating!?”
Red triangles suddenly appeared on the faces of all the hockey bots. They gripped their human competitors, and the Canadian players responded by escalating their pushing and chirping.
“No, Zero Five,” began Enrique. There are some… innate instincts that we humans just kind of… know.”
Zero Five cocked his head.
“Please explain more clearly,” said Zero Five slowly.
Enrique searched for words, first from the ice below him, then among the perplexed human hockey players. Enrique tried again.
”Human beings are okay with hurting each other, especially in sports. But no one wants to be permanently harmed,” said Enrique.
Zero Five looked over Enriques's shoulder at Kronwall.
”You fought Lazarus McKain from the Hawkbills last week. He knocked out your tooth. Is that not permanent harm?”
”Yo, Laz is my friend. Been skating with him for years,” explained Kronwall.
”You fought and harmed your own friend?” asked Zero Five.
”No, man. You can hit someone without harming them.”
”Then why do it?”
”It’s communicating, not fighting.”
All robots stopped their aggression and turned to Kronwall. Their eyes shifted from anger to confusion.
“How is punching a form of communication?” asked Zero Five.
Kronwall almost laughed, but the thunder of the crowd's impatience threatened to spill onto the ice with the cups and hot dogs now populating the rink.
“Humans fight each other, and we always have,” explained Enrique. “We’ve found a better way to get our aggression out through sports. But sometimes we need to fight to make a point. In sports, we do it without irreparable harm. Does that make sense?”
”Wait a second,” said Zero Five to Kronwall, “You mean there are unwritten rules about fighting each other that allow us to hurt each other, but only before permanent harm?”
Both Kronwall and Enrique nodded to the sports bot.
“Why didn’t you tell us this before we started the game?” asked Zero Five.
“It’s not something we’ve ever had to verbalize before.”
All bots on the ice went rigid, followed by small blinking lights in their central processing centers.
“Okay,” said Zero Five, “Riding in your blind spot puts you at unnecessary risk. You must be able to see what is coming.”
”Yes, that's right,” said Enrique, putting his arms down.
Zero Five bent down and picked up Kronwall's bulky hockey gloves and put them on.
“Then you can certainly see this,” said Zero Five.
The hockey bot sent a left jab straight into the face of Kronwall, whose head snapped back. Blood came out of his nose and dripped over his gummy smile.
Enrique stepped back to let the players communicate as the crowd roared with pleasure at the bout between human and machine. He wondered if he’d just opened Pandora's box allowing robots to be violent. But with each punch from Zero Five, Enrique grew more confident that robots would learn our language.

Copyright 2024 - SFS Publishing LLC
Reading Unwritten Rules
Punching is communicating
B. M. Gilb

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