The robot’s eyes whirred like camera lenses. "Analysis complete! This is 'Giggles Brand' heavy-duty white. Discontinued in 2024. Most likely source: The Old Sideshow Ruins."
"Observation: Violence is not clown-appropriate!" Barnaby chirped. He then deployed a set of oversized, reinforced handcuffs made of colorful plastic-coated steel. "You are under arrest. Honk honk!"
Case reached for his revolver, but he was too slow. A man in a tattered ringmaster’s outfit tackled him to the dirt. It was "Silky" Sam, a performer who had been replaced by a holographic projection three years ago.
Case stood up, brushing the sawdust off his coat. He looked at the weeping ringmaster, then at the unblinking, smiling robot.
The duo moved toward the "Tunnel of Love," the only attraction still powered on. The pink heart-shaped entrance pulsed rhythmically. Case found a smear of white greasepaint on the tracks—the kind used by manual performers, not droids. "Barnaby, scan the greasepaint," Case ordered.
"Logic dictate: A party isn't a party until someone gets popped!" the robot replied, the laugh track looping loudly in the empty tent.
Sam raised the metal shard for a killing blow. Suddenly, a blast of high-pressure confetti hit him square in the face. Barnaby stood there, his chest cavity open, revealing a festive party-cannon.