By: Sam Normand

It was in the early 26th century that advances in genetic and bio engineering allowed for the creation of “subservient bio robots”. These unfortunately named products of science were genetically tailored to certain roles within society.

The ethical implications of these creations were not lost on the greater whole of society. Riots and protests raged for the better part of a century before a combination of generational division of ideology and massive increases in manufacturing finally saw to their acceptance in society.

Of all the genetic variants employed in this new thriving social order, none present the most complex ethical dilemma than those known simply as “BigDumbs”. The name, the result of a refusal to pronounce the sixteen syllable designation of the variant, was surprisingly accurate for they were big. And they were certainly very, very, dumb.

Primarily employed in heavy industry, construction, and the military, BigDumbs were the most successful bio robot. Aside from the SexDumbs, that is.

During this day and age, however, there still exist groups who rabidly oppose the use of these semi-humans. Individual cells of activists who pursue any means they can to undermine their production. The majority of these groups work under the belief that the treatment of these creatures was unacceptable: The belief that since they look like us, they had to have the same rights as us.

What the misguided souls at the BDLF (BigDumb Liberation Front) failed to realize is that the deep genetic programming of these organisms was such that they were only happy when doing their assigned roles. As a result, they would rabidly oppose any attempts made to put them in any other scenario. This was a way of preventing any sort of rebellion within the sub-human workforce. It served to ensure the productivity of those within the castes through copious amounts of dopamine and endorphins associated with objects used in their fields.

SexDumbs for instance felt a great wave of familiarity and happiness when they saw a package of condoms, and would routinely put them on everything vaguely phallic in the area. Aside from the obvious benefit of reduced risk of STD transmission, it provided a heightened level of “freakiness” when purchasing their services. In the words of one regular client of Missy Cow-Moo-Titty (a prestigious sex-dumb, allowed to keep her stupid self administered title because of sheer recognition value):

“I paid my 500 credits, walked into the room and there she was. Condoms covered literally anything that looked kind of like a throbbing *retracted* and even things that looked like filthy *retracted*. She was jumping on the bed, her massive *retracted* bouncing, screaming ‘LETS BANG! LETS BANG! LETS BANG!’ like some ridiculous little *retracted*. I swear I got so *retracted* and almost *retracted* it was so *retracted* kinky. I knew I would be coming back before I even left.”

On the other side of the Dumb-Spectrum, BigDumbs felt a kinship and love for tools used in construction, as well as assault rifles and grenades. They were centered and happy only when performing drills, heavy lifting and fighting.

It was a system that worked flawlessly, although those minds at the BDLF capable of genetic handiwork were tirelessly researching methods to counteract this. In their minds, the liberation of sub-human castes was of the utmost importance. The continued use of sub-humans represented a moral offense to the BDLF, but their misunderstanding of the situation only made it worse.

As the method of creation for the subservient creatures was a highly guarded secret, it was the opinion of many of these activists that they were made from non-consensual humans. This type of conspiracy spread like wild fire, combining a scary “big business” image with a loss of humanity. Like an ideological virus it set itself deep inside the dogma of these groups.

However, this was not the case at all. The variants were crafted from a small pool of genetic material. This was mostly the recycled DNA of deceased bio-robots, supplemented with stem cells and regrown in vats. This recycling of DNA left the new organism with some of the latent talents of the progenitor, with the result that each subsequent generation became more and more adept to their task.

However, over time there had been cases where a bio-robot had become too good. Where they began to exhibit signs of curiosity for the outside world and posing simple philosophical questions like “WHO DA ONE WUT MADE ME? WUZ IT YOO?”

In these cases the offending organism would be liquefied and the DNA put through the system again. This time they would intentionally sabotage the process creating a “fresh slate” of the particular lineage.

After a time it came to be that the BDLF, at the height of the movement, “liberated” a BigDumb in an attempt to finally figure out what, or even who, this hulking moron was. He was kept in an Albanian warehouse which served as headquarters for one of the BDLF’s largest operating cells. It was chosen to liberate one of the BigDumb’s because of their supposed tendency towards blind compliance.

This was done over the protests of several scientists who said they should liberate Missy Cow-Moo-Titty (for strictly scientific reasons, of course, they said while ringing their sweaty palms and breathing heavily.)

The BigDumb was named “Harry” by one of the cell’s members who had just watched Harry and the Hendersons. Scientists worked on him to try and educate and engage him, as they believed the true intelligence of the creature was hidden. They had planned to start with simple children’s puzzles and work their way through to more complex tests.

Their progress was nothing. There was no hidden talents or repressed intelligence within Harry. He was simply semi-human creature bred for his singular roll in the worldwide community. A lumbering genetic moron incapable of doing anything besides yelling, breaking things, and insults.

What the members of the BDLF failed to realize in their selection of a BigDumb (for their “blind compliance”), is that they are conditioned only to take orders from their superior officer or foreman. It is a process that begins when it is young and stays with them for the duration of their life, indentured to that particular individual and taking orders from no-one else.

As Harry’s superior officer was not in the building, Harry was incapable of caring or listening to anything that they would tell him. He would deflect their inquiries and requests by the only means he knew how: Being a big stupid bully.

When they tried to give Harry logic puzzles to work with he became enraged. “DIS STOOPID! YOU STOOPID,” he would scream, flipping the table and dashing the pieces onto the ground. “I WANNA WRESTLE!”

He would then start marching drills around the outer walls of the warehouse and trying to grapple people. His strength was such that they could do nothing but watch as he marched and run when he attempted to grab them. This amused him and would often result in day long bouts of Harry chasing BDLF members and laughing, mocking the scientists sexuality and making them feel horrible.

He then regularly fell asleep wherever he fell, snoring at amazing volumes. Sometimes he would kick his legs, such as a dog might while dreaming of chasing a squirrel.

Eventually Harry became bored with sitting around the Albanian warehouse and terrifying scientists. He refused to get up in the morning and whenever someone would try to wake him he would tell them to “Get fukked puny man,” and flip them off.

Aside from being frustrating it was terribly mean and caused one of the weaker willed scientists, a chemist by the name of Peter, to cry uncontrollably for days.

“Harry, we’re trying to help you. Can’t you see that you’ve been taken advantage of? That you’ve had a great injustice done to you?” They would say.

“YOUZ FACE INJUSTICE!” was a regular reply to this kind of question. After which the BigDumb would laugh for a good ten minutes before forgetting what was so funny and wander off. Sometimes he would tear pieces out of the wall and hit them together. An act which amused him for no reason other than it was kind of violent.

In fact, the only thing that truly amused Harry was when the scientists brought in a stray dog they had found rooting through the dumpster out back to see what he would do. He immediately became best friends with the dog and maintained a kind of non-verbal grunting language with the beast. This carried on for about a week until the dog, apparently dissatisfied with the food he was given, ran out the door when a scientist went for a cigarette.

Harry cried for a total of six minutes and thirty seven seconds before forgetting why he was sad and doing marching drills. By this point he had found a piece of rebar and bent it into the shape of a rifle, which he carried during his drills. This gave the scientists even more reason to avoid him.

It was a matter of time before Harry became uncontrollable. He was never meant to be cooped up in the warehouse with no outlet for his aggressive energy. His bouts of rage at simple puzzles and games became increasingly intense and he refused any kind of request with a child-like stubbornness. This extended into doing the literal opposite of anything they told him to do.

As he slipped further into his state of depression he stopped grooming himself. Sleeping was done sporadically and never for longer than a few hours, resulting in a perpetual state of grumpiness. He deliberately wouldn’t eat anything, instead pouting and mumbling “Dis stoopid. You stoopid.” The only source of joy Harry seemed to still have was making fun of anyone who tried to make contact with him.

The final straw came when he tried to “smash the puny’s skull cuz it wot looked like a melon,” At that point the members of the BDLF decided that they had had enough of Harry. Dogma, morality, and beliefs were finally abandoned when Peter, the chemist who was the butt end of Harry’s mocking most of the time, threw up his hands and screamed.

“Fuck it! Just, fuck it! No, Bill, I’m not taking any more of this! He’s so MEAN! He doesn’t do anything, hasn’t responded to any tests and just sits there being a big baby!”

The whole room let out a sigh of relief as Peter finally said was everyone was thinking. Everyone was fed up with Harry, who was sitting on the floor laughing at Peter.

“LITTLE MAN’S FACE LOOK UGLIER! LOOK LIKE A BIG PILE OF BUTT,” he yelled, clutching his stomach and rolling with laughter.

“See!? Nothing there Bill. He’s just fucking stupid! Nothing more to it! Let’s just forget about all this and let him be someone else’s problem, please,” cried Peter, tears streaming down his face.

So after packing everything up, the members of the BDLF abandoned the warehouse. They left Harry behind as at this point no-one really cared what happened to him anymore. This was done while he marched around the warehouse with his rebar, oblivious to what was happening.

Three days the BigDumb spent marching around the abandoned warehouse before finding the door unlocked. It was the dead of night and the sounds and lights of the nearby city made him curious. He wandered toward them.

When he reached the outskirts of the city, he smelled dinner being made in a nearby house. He wandered in, simply walking through the closed door, smashing it.

“Wherez da food!?” he yelled stomping through the house. When he entered the kitchen he found a pot roast cooling in the counter and immediately set about devouring it.

After consuming so much meat, Harry was tired and lay on the floor drifting into a restless sleep. A scream awoke him some time later, and he shot up causing the terrified woman to back up into the counter. She held a knife in front of her, shaking in fear.

“Who are you!? What are you doing here!?”

“HAHA PUNY’S GOT A KNIFE! WOT, YOU WANNA WRESTLE?”

Harry was truly someone else’s problem now.

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