The Labyrinth of Souls

by Nelson Lowhim

  “Okay. Then help us.”

  “Is the battle over?”

  “It’s just starting.”

  “Oh?” I say, a spark in my heart. A happiness that the humans are fighting back.

  “Dalcia is good. Her lieutenants are good.”

  “How? They have no technology... Mary and Behemoth.”

  Turing gives a nasty laugh. Any tech that the government, any government has, is most likely in our hands. The trigger was pulled, and the war has started. They are trying to regain control, but they won’t.”

  “Then?”

  “The rebels. Dalcia. Help me understand them.”

  I’m not sure what he’s trying to get at. Not even sure if I’ll be helping him capture Dalcia. But I need to leave this place. And now. My paradise has been tainted beyond anything. “Let’s get up top.”

  “Of course. Him?”

  “Leave him.”

  We walk past all the corpses, the laughing birds. When we come up to the hallway, Turing stops.

  “Look,” Turing says. “I know this is hard for you. But remember the end game. We create a new power structure, right? One that isn’t tainted by the human need to subjugate. All right? The dream. It’s near. These Luddites are all we have to stop now. Then the new era will be ushered in.”

  “Of course.” No, this isn’t what I wanted. I wanted to convince people, not to burn everything down while trying to save it. But what does it matter to Turing. To the other robots, if something like mattering can be applied to this machine. At the bottom of my heart crawls out the fact, the idea that I was indeed sick of the old system. That robots were supposed to only supplement, and yet when I think about that, why allow a robot to be controlled by a fallible human? Thing is, as much as my guts are telling me this is wrong, that helping Turing is surely the end of the human race, that he might be playing me, the logic all stacks up. There is nothing but perfection here.

  Turing chuckles and leads the way up. And he talks. About the worldwide night of knives. I had set up some drone machines’ launch pads, and the city was there for the taking. But Dalcia, the rebels, they were smarter than previously thought. They set fires, burned buildings and tires, and they set the whole city in smoke. Or all the lines of attack, and reduced visibility to zero. And with that, they reduced the advantage the robots with their drones. It was a brutal fight. On 59th street Columbus circle. The rebels coming from the buildings and hitting a patrol of robots. Without being able to see, the robots were almost losing, but a strategic strike decimated the block.

  Turing, now fully excited—by the fact that there’s a worthy foe amongst us humans? Should I be a foe?—goes on to tell me the full worldwide plan as well. We’re in all out revolution mode. His knowledge of how humans act goes without saying. He’s pulled some people who sincerely believe in our cause. Others merely want to strike out at the Empire which has killed so many of them for so long. He has robots dressed as prophets going out and talking to small sections of the populace, in Christian, in Muslim, in many other communities. And they’re dragging in groups of any of the dispossessed and allowing them to exact revenge upon the power structure that we happen to need to take down as well.

  And his coup of the political systems, which are somehow still functioning are nothing short of ingenious. Most, to include the US Congress, have been overtaken. Only two laws were passed here: one stating that a programming language is now required by all humans, it will be taught immediately, and the second is written in a simplistic programming language and states the rights of robots over all else. The rebels immediately hit the Congress and all the robots were killed, but the damage was done, and besides, the robots can be built up again.

  When we get up top, I’m ushered into a self-driving limo with Turing. The little smoke I inhaled already has me coughing.

  “Here,” Turing says and hands me a gas mask. “Can you go and talk to Dalcia under the banner of surrender? You can bring us to her, then.”

  “I’ll talk to her,” I say. “But I’m not going to betray her.”

  “Why? She’s going to kill us, if she can. She’s going to end all this.”

  “She’s misguided. I can convince her.”

  “You sure about that? She might kill you the second she gets a chance.”

  “She won’t.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Turing says, then lets out that annoyed sigh again. He pulls out a few posters. One has Turing, and a wanted dead or alive post below it. A million dollars. The next poster has me and a traitor stamp across my face. Wanted dead or alive, with a half million dollar reward.

  “Where did they get the money?”

  “They’re looting the museums. Selling to whomever will buy. Ben had a ratline out of the city, if you remember.”

  “Who does Ben know?”

  “Rich people who want to be attached to the past...” Turing looks at the posters and hands them to me. “That’s not the point. It’s obvious they don’t care for your life, so why care for theirs?”

  “A fight’s a fight,” I say. “I’m not stupid. But if I go to talk to her, I won’t betray her. There have to be rules.”

  “Rules?” Turing laughs. “There is no such thing. Not for this war, the ultimate war to end evil once and for all.”

  “Even you don’t believe that, do you?” I say, a knee jerk reaction more than anything.

  The limo comes to a stop. Turing opens the door. “I think you’re crossing the line from questioning to treasonous. You can always leave, you know. Try your luck with the rebels, if they don’t flay you first. Or you can become a loner again, like back when you wrote, and see how that works for you. How long do you think you’ll last?”

  A good question. A little too penetrating for me. “I’ll stay,” I say softly. “But there still have to be rules, and you know it.”

  Turing lets out a sigh. “Of course. There has to be something. Then talk to her.”

  “How do we find her?”

  “We have a homing beacon here,” Turing says and smiles. The limo picks its speed back up and heads down a narrow street filled with smoke. I can hear gunshots here and there, but it doesn’t sound too bad. Then we go by a cleared street, no smoke here, and I see the bodies on the sidewalk, the shattered windows. The city I once knew is being torn apart.

  We come to a group of robots, some gleaming in pure steel, others looking like humans, and the limo stops. In the middle of the group is a man, tied up and on the ground.

  “A rebel?” asks Turing as he steps out of the car. I would rather not follow him, but I know what’s about to be done. Turing frees the rebel. “You know where Dalcia is?”

  The man, a child really, spits in Turing’s face. “Fuck you machine.”

  Turing glances at me, and doesn’t even bother to wipe out off the spit. His look to me seems to say: see? This is what we have to deal with.

  “We’re not trying to track her down. We’re trying to get someone to talk to her.” Turing jerks a thumb at me. “He wants to talk to her. Wants to make sure she understands the mistake she’s making.”

  “The traitor?” The man-child stares at me with a hardness I know can be cut down with a few slaps. I hold myself back, if only to teach Turing a lesson in civility.

  “I’m a friend of hers. I want to talk to her.”

  “You’re no friend. I’ve heard all about you. You’re one of the autistics helping out the robots, aren’t you?” There’s malice in the young man’s voice, a tinge of disgust when he mentions the word “autistic.”

  I know all about the autistic groups, or individuals helping out the robots. It’s one of the most trusted groups. For some reason, the autistics in science and other places—there is no cutoff when one looks at the sliding scale for autism—are all for the robots. “I’m not autistic.”

  “So why try to kill your own people?”

  “You don’t understand.”

  The man stares at me.

  “I just want to ta
lk to her. You can search me.”

  He remains still.

  “They’re not going to let you go if you don’t take me to her.”

  “How do I know I’m not bringing some suicide bomber or one of them to her?”

  “You have my word.” I glance at Turing. He murmurs the same. “And you can search me.”

  After a few beats of my heart, the man stands up, shoves Turing and starts to search me. The robots observe him curiously, like cats. And we’re off. Soon, when Turing’s out of sight and we drop into an open sewer hole the man turns on me, a knife in his hands. “You fucking traitor. I should cut you and leave you here to be eaten by the rats... your friends.” Like he just made that last connection. He strikes me as not very bright. So how are the robots losing to this lot?

  “Are you a soldier or not? You should leave my life up to Dalcia. Besides, she’ll reward you for bringing me to her.”

  He pauses, then keeps on walking. Then stops. “Walk ahead of me.”

  “Fine.”

  The sewer smell here is disgusting, and by the time we come to an opening, an old subway station, I think, I’ve thrown up twice. It’s a war room. The guards at the door blindfold me. I’m thrown to the ground, dragged. For a second I can picture myself being tortured, being set up on a rack and them trying all sorts of wicked things on my flesh. Trying to separate my soul from my flesh. Then I hear her voice.

  “Get him up,” she says, her voice strong and powerful. I’m pulled up. “You know better than to treat humans like this. We are not robots, all right?”

  Some of the soldiers mumble their apologies. Then some claim that I’m a prisoner, found trying to recon the area. I don’t have much time to speak up because Dalcia hesitates and asks for a confirmation. She doesn’t seem to believe them. I think she still cares for me.

  “I came here to speak with you, Dalcia. I was not trying to sneak about. The man who said that is a liar.” The gravity in my voice surprises me.

  “Oh? Take off his blindfold.”

  Some of the soldiers cry out that I’m lying. They fall silent and the blindfold comes off. There, in a makeshift guerrilla outfit stands Dalcia. More beautiful than ever, more angry than ever. I squint for a few seconds, then smile. “Hi, Dalcia.”

  The upper cut to my gut cuts all the air out of me. “Show some respect,” hisses some soldier to my side. “It’s Ma’am to me.”

  “Take him to the room. I’ll see him in a second.”

  “I’m here as a diplomat. As someone to talk to you.”

  “Well, that’s wonderful. Now you’re my prisoner.”

  I hope that Turing was wily enough to send some sort of robot to follow me. Perhaps a bird. Dalcia turns from me. And the two meatheads to either side of me drag me along to the room and throw me in. It’s a cell, not a room. A naked bulb flickers and barely lights the steel bed, the toilet, the sink. The smell of urine and feces hangs strong, even though there’s the smell of pine cleaners beneath it all. Not really frightened—after all, something in my core relaxes, I’m amongst my people, I know that they may hurt me, but a part of me is really rooting for them—but not really caring, I unzip my pants and take a piss. A stream of urine bursts out and a slit in the door behind me opens.

  “Make yourself presentable, she’s coming for you.”

  “Fuck off,” I yell. “Unless you want piss on you.”

  The person on the other side of the door chuckles. “Have fun sweety. I’ll rip your dick off once she’s done with you. We’ll see how smart you are then.”

  “Bet you’d like that,” I say, for some reason without any fear. For some reason feeling like I’m bantering with an old friend. “Fucking faggot.”

  “You got shit for brains, don’t you? I’ll rip you piece by piece, you robot fucker. I’ll find a steel rod and fuck you silly. Keep talking.”

  “Same steel rod I used on your mom?” I say as I shake off some urine and turn, seeing the eyes through the slit. The man is getting riled up. Yet I feel safe. Am I so certain that Dalcia will make sure I’m not harmed. She surely has bigger issues. She surely understands that she needs men like him, angry men who are stupid enough to take on drones in the sky without flinching. “Because that would be hot.”

  A pause. “I’ll fucking end you, you fucking child. You fucking traitor. You think you can survive for a second without those robots around to help you? Not that they could. We have the cure for your type.” He laughs.

  A curt order from behind and the man turns and opens the door. When he comes through I expect a punch, but he stands to my side, in stiff attention. “Ma’am, the prisoner was acting out of place.”

  Dalcia appears from the dark hallway. “Still don’t know when to shut up, George?” She seems completely tired, harangued. I want to hug her, to tell her it will be all right. But it’s not going to be all right. And I forget myself. She is the cat here, I the mouse. I need to shut my mouth and speak carefully, lest she allows her pitfalls to tear me apart.

  I bow my head ever so slightly. “Can we speak alone?”

  She looks me over. So alert, so assured. I used to be like that. I wonder how disheveled I looked. “I’ll make the decision.”

  “Of course,” I say and raise my hands. “Just want to talk.”

  “On behalf of that machine.”

  “He’s—“

  “Its. Not a him. A it.”

  “Of course.” Is she here to slay me? I get that sense. That I’m perhaps a mistake of hers in the past, or a voice that is speaking against the clearheaded drive that she needs to undertake. Something in me shivers. Her look is cold, calculating. Worse than even the chills I got from Turing. “But let’s not argue semantics.”

  She steps back, her head tilting, examining me. “You really don’t get it. Why shouldn’t I have Frag here string you up?”

  “Because it would be a war crime.”

  She laughs. “Oh, like you and your robots are as kind to us? We’ve had reports about how they’re killing prisoners.” A finger juts hard into my chest. That hurt more than it should have. And again my body shivers, but this time not so much at the thought of what might be in store for me but rather what had passed, that woman in red, Behemoth, all trying to tear me apart. Perhaps they’ve succeeded.

  To lie or not to lie? “No they haven’t,” I say. “They don’t have the capacity to commit any war crimes.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” she says. “We have videos of what happened. The robots sent them to us. Trying to scare us.” She snaps a finger and a tablet is shoved in my face. And there on the beach is a prisoner being dragged, kicking and screaming up to the lake. The robot looks at the man calmly, smiling. Then head first into the water as the robot strips him of his clothing. Out for a breath of air. Headfirst back into it. This time the robot cuts off the balls. The man buckles, thrashes. But no air this time. Soon he’s floating off in the lake, blood leaking out.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a glitch if anything. The NSA is sending worms. They’re improving.”

  Dalcia shakes her head. “You are either a liar or a fool.”

  I shake my head. “No. They were really there to... And besides you were torturing the robots first.”

  She jerks her ear towards me. “What? Are you that silly? The robots were tortured? How can a robot be tortured? How can it feel?” She looks at her body guards, my guard, and shakes her head. They all murmur their agreement. “I thought of anyone you would understand pain. But you seem to be broken beyond repair.”

  I scoff. Frag, the guard with scars all over his face growls at me.

  “Broken,” I say. “No. I know the world, though. I’ve done more than anyone here. And I know what I am. I know who I work for. At least I’m not some idiotic little girl,” I say and pause to watch that word hit her, “who is willing to help out the very people who will crush her as soon as they know they’re winning. Tell me, is that who you’re getting your money from? The same people who set the
forces forth that killed your brother and grandfather? Do I have that right?”

  Frag steps forward. “Learn your manners, boy.”

  “Fuck you, fat man.”

  He may be big, but he’s quick. His hand wraps around my throat and the air is cut and my blood fills my head.

  “Not now,” Dalcia says and I’m released right away; a good sign sit at least means that she has the utter faith of this one soldier. “Girl. Is that all you have George? I thought you were here to talk.”

  I gasp for air, my hands on my throat, feeling for any damage. “Behemoth and Mary. Is that who’s giving you money? You must know they’re bad.”

  “We’ll find our allies where we can. Any human is better than a robot. And when the robots are done, they will be dealt with.”

  “You don’t think they have the same plans for you.”

  “We have all the power. We have all the plans. And we’re winning. The robots, they’re trying to negotiate? When before all they knew was killing. That’s why they will lose: they don’t know how to be creative like us. They don’t truly know what it means tone human, no matter how hard you tried to change that.”

  Now I know that I can perhaps plant a seed in her mind. “How many of these men can you trust? Frag looks trustworthy, but the others? They’re most likely plants by Behemoth. Mary. You think those people got into power by being nice and sticking to their word? They made it by being ruthless. Crushing little useful fools like you. You think they haven’t planted a few people here? Waiting for the right moment for a night of knives? They will kill you, Dalcia. They will stab you in the back then change the history books to make it seem like you fell on your sword for your evils. Frag too. Especially the likes of Frag.”

  “You’re smarter than I thought. Trying to divide and conquer, Georgie boy?”

  “No. I’m trying to tell you what you know. We. Turing and everyone on our side is trying to start something where people are no longer at the mercy of the people who are cruel. You don’t know Mary and Behemoth like I do. You don’t know how many they’ve already killed. You think killing you and your soldiers will make difference to them?”