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"...a few centuries of coherent humanist thought, set against a million odd years of evolved killer ape tendency. No-one's going to give you very good odds on humanism, are they?"
- Richard Morgan
 |
| Boxing Robot | ||
| Robots that fight in exhibitions, in the ring, for spectators. |
Although the story contains fighting robots, it does not use the phrase "robot boxer" or "boxing robot". And ultimately, the fight in the story is between a robot and a man effectively pretending to be a robot.
| Pole reached inside Maxo and
activated the leg cable centers. Maxo
began shifting around. He lifted his
left leg and shook off the base wheel
automatically. Then he was standing
lightly on his black-shoed feet, feeling at the floor like a cured cripple testing for stance.
Pole reached forward and jabbed in the FULL button, then jumped back as Maxo's eye beams centered on him and the robot moved forward, broad shoulders rocking slowly, arms up defensively. "Christ," Pole muttered, "they'll hear 'im squeakin' in the back row." |
| Technovelgy from Steel,
by Richard Matheson. Published by Fantasy and Science Fiction in 1956 Additional resources -
|
At the beginning of the fight, the advanced B7 robot stands ready, effectively shaped like a man:
Pole crouched beside him, pretending to fiddle with an arm plate.
"Steel, don't," he muttered again.
Kelly didn't answer. He felt a
desperate desire to suck in a lungful
of air and bellow his chest. He drew
in small patches of air through his
nose and let them trickle out. He
kept staring at the Maynard Flash,
thinking of the array of instant
reaction centers inside that smooth
arch of chest.
As the fight begins, the scene in the ring is described:
Compare to the fight machine (boxing robot) from Jingle in the Jungle, by Aldo Giunta, published by IF in 1957.
The B-seven was motionless, its
gloved hands hanging across its legs.
There was imitation blonde hair,
crew cut, growing out of its skull
pores. Its face was that of an impassive Adonis. The simulation of
muscle curve on its body and limbs
was almost perfect. For a moment
Kelly almost thought that years had
been peeled away and he was in the
business again, facing a young contender. He swallowed carefully.
There was no referee. B-fighters never clinched - their machinery rejected it - and there was no knock-down count. A felled
B-fighter stayed down. The new
B-nine, it was claimed by the
Mawling publicity staff, would be
able to get up, which would make
for livelier and longer bouts.
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