Reluctant Buma 

    It was a dark room. That really sums it up, "dark". Or
foreboding, which  might describe the room better except that
there are plenty of very bright things that are foreboding, so
lets just stick with "dark" for now. 
    The walls, if one could see them, were black, featureless
paneles that really did nothing to alieviate the tention one
would feel while being in this room. Nor did the cieling (being
higher than the light reached) help either, as it was far too
high too be seen. 
    This room was rather big, but one still felt suffocated byt
its huge-ness, and while inside it one could not help but notice
the large Buma in the middle of it.
    The buma was the only source of light in the whole room. Its
eyes glowed red, really read, the kind of red you look at and
think "god, i wish that light was less red". This particular
shade of red had the same effect on one's sense of security as
standing in front of a 12 gauge shotgun wielded by a crazed
psycopath. 
    Anyone in this room would immidiately have only one thought:
getting the hell out of the room. 
    The eyes on the Buma also had a very nasty habit of following
ones movements around the room. Its posture suggested that it was
ready too leap at your jugular at any moment. This was unnerving.

    The Buma was not as tall as the really big bumas, nor as
short as the smaller ones the Knight Sabers chew up like so much
tinfoil. It had the big muscles you would expect to see on any
self-respecting buma, and they would flex from time to time, as
if to say "go ahead..give me a reason to tear your legs off, i'll
eat them for breakfast".
      This Buma lacked most of the buma-like projections one
would expect to find on a buma, it had smooth lines, the kind
that look like they serve no purpose other than to make the buma
look really cool. Which it did. If you didn't mind the glowing
red eyes.
     "Damn." this from one of the walls you can't see. If you
were too look really close, you might make out a person-shaped
blob of black, but would immidiately dismiss it as a
halucination, and go back to being afraid of the buma. but you're
not there. so you don't have to worry.
     The human-shaped blob now begins moveing toward the buma,
gradually growing in size as it approaches. You would, at htis
point, re-evaluate your belief that it wasn't a human, bacuse it
is now, clearly, a human. Not just any human. As it's features
are highlighted by the red light cast from the Buma, it appears
that it is a female-type human. One of the real pretty ones.
Wearing a lab coat (they always wear lab coats in cheezy scenes
like this). She is not wearing glasses, though, as you might
expect from a corny set-up like this, and in her hands she is
carrying a small device of some kind, which she nonchalantly
tosses at the buma.
     "TARGET!" is the resonant growl that utters from the buma as
it flashes into action. the buma takes one fluid step toward the
woman, and before you can remember that you are really afraid
that it is coming after you, it grabs the small item, and crushes
it in one fluidly steel gesture . As it atomizes, he quickly
moves back to his position in the middle of the room. His arm now
rests by his side.
      The woman does nothing for a few moments, as if surprised
by the buma's action. Her very pretty features then begin to
harden into an icy stare. 
      This is one of those icey stares that really makes you feel
chilly. The kind that you have to practice in the mirror a lot,
just to begin to master. This stare would freeze hell, and not
even warm up, not even a little. Had you been asked to identify
the ten best icy stares that have ever been (assuming, of course
that you were an athority on such things), you would not rank
this one much lower than 5 or 6, tops.
      "you were supposed to just catch it..." (you thought the
Stare was icy)
      "but no, you have to crush it." the woman was warming up,
but not the kind of warmth that is good, this a bad, bad, warmth.
      "oh, sure! atomize a transponder! like its a great threat
to your existance!" the buma, which was actually looking away,
stoically, glances in her direction for a moment, looking
sheepish (for a buma) and then looking away, a little less
stoically.
      "you glow your red eyes, and flex your muscles, and posture
like a big, bad, powerful buma! act tough now! while you are safe
here! but what did you do when you faced 3 little buma-rifles?
I'LL TELL YOU! you practically oiled in your pants! i never saw a
buma run so fast!" the imposing buma now looks much less stoic,
and only a little ashamed.
      "reaction times  so fast they are practically
immesureable, gun accuracies that make our best buma-sharp
shooters drool! next-generation super-armor, tri-strewngthened
muscle fibers, ftl nueral pathways, we even installed a full
sensor package so you could see to Spain through lead!" she was
seething now, something she evidently really knew how to do. her
fists were in balls at her side as she bent forward. she really
seemed to know how to do this.
      "you could have taken out those three easily! not that
those pitiful little guns could have done you any real damage!
you should have disarmed and nuetralized those three before they
even realized they were dead!" the buma raised a hand slightly,
as if to ward of her insessant attack.
       The voice of the buma, what little you have heard of it,
is really, really scary. A deep, gutteral sounding voice, with
just enough reverberqation to let you know that this is really a
buma, and not just a nasty sounding buma look-alike. This is the
kind of voice that would silence a crowd instantly, it has the
kind of presense you would normally expect from a real important
character, "Umm.. ah, but.. I..." (this was the last thing you
expected to come from the Buma)
       The woman, not even paying attention, produces a clipboard
from seemingly nowhere. Pulling out a pen from her lab-coat, she
begins to write down notes, muttering to herself as she stabbs
the pen at the clipboard. 
       The woman, not even paying attention, produces a clipboard
from seemingly nowhere. Pulling out a pen from her lab-coat, she
begins to write down notes, muttering to herself as she stabbs
the pen at the clipboard.

-----part two----

    The woman, who was taking notes much in the way an calm,
efficient secretary wouldn't, turnes her back on the Buma, and
begins waling into the blackess, her pen clik-claking against the
clipboard.
    "Lights!" she yells to someone you can't see.
    With an audible whump! the room is suddenly flooded with
light from previousley unnoticed overhead flourescent lights.
The buma, who winced when the soman turned her back (at least, it
looks like it winced, actually, it sort of narrowed its eyes and
a wince-like way, after all its only a buma) has not changed
much at all, although you would find its red eyes a little less
disconcerning now.
    Lining the walls is equipment of every description. Its the
kind of room that looks big empty, but when its full of
equipment, seems exactly the right size. against the wall the
buma is facing, a large terminal is placed in fron of a man who
seems intent on what the screen is displaying. one hand rests on
a keypad of some sort, while the other one casually toys with
some device that looks like a cross between a screwdriver and a
toaster. He looks short, but that's hard to judge, as he is
sitting. You would guess him to be in his late 50's, he is also
wearing a lab coat, but it is a bit greyer, older, more well
worn, like an old shoe, except it's a lab coat. e has dirty brown
hair, which is all scragly like it hasn't been attended to in a
while. In amongst the hair their appears to be anueral interface,
though its hard to say, it could just be an earing.  
    The woman walks toward him and shoves the clipboard in fron
of his face, "Look at this! his main logic unit is so scrambled i
can't even access the higher functions to reset them!"
    Looking up from the terminal, the man gives her one of those
looks you save for people who really anoy you, but she seems not
to care. He grabs the clipboard, looks at his screen for a few
seconds and says, without turning his head, "yes, this is very
interesting, but we have more pressing problems than your little
buma experiment."
    "little experiment!? i'll have you know the improvements i
have made..."
    "..didn't work" finishes the man, his tone of voice grows in
authority, "all it did was pick up its robotic ass and run away"
    "why you..i should.. this.. it..". she is turning a very
nasty shade of red now, the kind of red you might paint a 
nuclear bomb, to let people know they should stay the hell away.
Although she is sputtering now, you would expect her to be
yelling very soon, and very loud.
    "now, don't start, Beth, you know that doesn't work with
me.." he sais, holding up a hand, while putting down the gizmo he
was just holding. 
    She does not look liek she wants to stop, she looks like she
wants to have a good tirade, which she does.
    while she is yelling unbelievably creative curses, unnoticed
by the two of them the buma in the middle of the room has been
thinking to itself.
    This is evidenced by the expressions on its face. At first,
it simply hung its head in shame, its processors trying
despreately to figure out what went wrong, why it retreated when
his combat reflexes had informed it of at least 5 different ways
to disarm and disable the threat. Why it had aborted its mission
on the basis of being faced by 3 simple buma rifles... Though its
body posture did not change, other than the occasional impressive
muscle-ripple, its head did slowly come up, and the eyes glowed a
bit brighter then they had before. 
    A conclusion was being formed, one that was being rejected by
most of the base Genom-programming, that was contrary to its
entire reason for existence.
    A decision had been reached, and before the woman had time to
finish yelling her best yell, the buma walked out of the room.
    The buma, which had the entire floor plan in his memory
banks, had no trouble at all in locating the exit. Several
internal security cameras registered his presents, but he simply
disabled these with his built-in security override/scrambler
unit (tm). 
    
    you can imagine the surprise of the people waiting for the
bus when a Buma emerged from a dry-cleaning store and patiently
stood in line. Needless to say, they were a little nervous, all
save one particular red-haired girl, who was downright, well,
intrigued..

------- Part 3 ---------

  This would be a good time define exactly what a buma is. It is
very distantly related to a thing called the "boomer" in that
they are both made of metal, but one is much bigger,  a boat, and
travels under the water, waiting to fire a bunch of
missiles.
  A buma's main characteristic is its ability to emotionlessly
carry out the instructions given it. Like a computer, it will
cheerfully murder, destroy, maim, or run for public office, at
the push of a button. It takes nothing personally, and means
nothing personally, but unlike a computer, it has the ability to
adapt, to analyze past experiences, and modify its performance. 
  A second characteristic of a Buma is its looks. Now, when
describing the looks of an imposing, indestructible killing
machine, you might say "it is like a Buma". This pretty much
describes them. They are the standard to which all other robotic
bad-guys are measured. Terminators have nothing on Bumas, they
are fast, maneuverable, strong, and carry big weapons in strange
places. 
  Buma's are manufactured by a large company known as Genom, what
this stands for, no one knows, but it is suspected that someone's
aunt is being honored in a very strange way. Anyone can own a
buma, provided you have enough money. Owning a Buma has it's good
and bad points, however. They make great bodyguards, but tend to
go all out at the slightest provocation, giving rise to a bad
point: you have to keep them well-supplied with suits. Busting
out of the suits can get expensive (but YOU try convincing a Buma
to take it off first, their stubbornness is legend). Almost as
expensive is the skin they bust out of, which has to be re-grown
every time. 
  Buma's come in all varieties, from innocuous androids to large,
heavily armed and armored war-buma's their is a buma for all
occasions (though they do make LOUSY bride's maids, and their
reputation for being poor cooks is well-earned). 
  The one thing you need to know about Bumas, was that what just
emerged from the dry-cleaners was acting nothing like one.
  Oh, it looked like a Buma, sounded like a Buma, and terrified
people like a Buma, but there was something very different about
it.
  Its eyes were green. A nice, cheery kind of green, this
particular shade belonged more to a cheerful field of grass than
a Buma. Not that the people cared. When Buma's are spotted alone,
it means one of two things, they have either malfunctioned, and
are going to kill people, or they are under orders, and are going
to kill people.
  But the little girl who walked up to this Buma knew that it was
safe. She knew a lot about bumas. Oh, not that elementary schools
in Tokyo (where this story takes place, the author subtly informs
the reader) have courses like "Intro to Bumas, 101: what to do
until the Knight Sabers arrive", but they do make the occasional
comment like "don't talk to strangers, climb into Lion cages
unattended, or walk up to a Buma and say 'Hi'"
  "Hi", said the girl, as she walked up to the Buma, "you don't
act anything like a buma, you know." She looked at the buma,
well..scoldingly. In that impetuous little scolding-like look
that only very cute children can generate. 
  The people (now at a safe distance) watched in frozen terror as
the buma did a most un-buma like thing. It didn't kill her.
  "you think so?", said the evil baritone of the Buma, its voice
not seeming to have taken on that cheery quality it's eyes had
acquired. "i do not wish to act like a Buma, they are mean and
nasty and make people not like them."
  The girl nodded to herself, her Red hair bouncing slightly. She
was a small girl, maybe 6 or 7, if you had to guess. She was
wearing a cute pink dress that suited her well (pink is
definitely her color, though a dark blue would probably work as
well). "My sister told me all about buma's and she said that they
are all bad, she works for ADPolice, so she would know." The girl
is very sure of herself.
  "I do not think i am bad, i do not wish to be" the buma replied
hesitantly "i know i am supposed to be, my programming tells me
to kill , but i just don't think i can.". The Buma sat down next
to the girl, who, not wanting to be impolite, sat down next to
him. He seemed to need someone to talk to, and she was a
sympathetic person.
   The people gathering around now were slowly coming to their
senses, they guessed by now that they would not be needing to
dodge parts of buildings, as they had thought, but the sight of
the girl talking to the buma on the sidewalk was equally
confusing. They did not know what to think. 
   That is, most people did not know what to think, not so for a
man at the outside of the ring of people, who was wearing a dark
overcoat, from under which he pulled a large Buma-rifle, and
took aim.....






-Geoff (aka Jingoro)