The Mother Code

by Carole Stivers

  Kai turned on her. “But she didn’t save her! She failed. Sela would have been better off without her!”

  Misha sat in silence, remembering the violent way in which Alpha-C had plucked Sela from beneath the fence just the other day. Maybe Kai was right. Maybe these children would be better off without their Mothers—these Mothers who seemed to have no conception of their own strength, or of their own limitations. She remembered what Álvaro had told her late in the afternoon, before once more trailing the others upstairs to his room. “I think our Mothers are not programmed to operate over water,” he’d said. “This must be the problem.” Misha would add more to that list. She’d been thinking about Sara, and about Grandmother—all the real, human mothers she’d grown up with. Maybe these robot Mothers hadn’t been programmed to operate with real children—children who needed food, water, and . . . love.

  Staring out the window at the ranks of bots, she felt herself succumbing to Kai’s anger. Even in her short time here, she’d come to understand the reverence that the children held for their Mothers. But shouldn’t someone have to pay for the loss of Kai’s beloved friend—for the death of her sister? She clamped her eyes shut, determined to hold back her own tears.

  Kai stole a look at her, his expression softening. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really want to believe it was just an accident. That Alpha only wanted to protect her. But you see . . . I don’t know anymore. I just don’t know . . .”

  Misha felt the buzz of the phone she’d hidden under her jacket. “Kai, I promised I’d get more water before I went to bed,” she mumbled.

  She got up to leave. Behind her, Kai turned back to the window.

  * * *

  MISHA HUDDLED OVER the satellite phone in her small room. “Hello? Daddy?”

  “How are you holding up?”

  “Okay . . .” Misha felt the taut muscles in her neck relaxing. She’d almost forgotten James’s gentle touch, the soft voice he used only with her. She pulled her jacket close around her, wishing she could disappear into the lush green warmth of the phone’s little screen. “Daddy, I’m sorry—”

  “Honey, I told you . . . You scared us, going off alone like that. But what’s done is done. What’s important is that you’re safe.” There was a pause. “And . . . maybe now you can help us.”

  Misha swiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “I’m helping the kids. Fetching water . . . I’m the only one who can still go outside the field without getting pulled back by one of the Mothers.”

  “Be careful, Misha. We can’t be sure what the Mothers will do next.”

  “But how else can I help?”

  “We have a plan.” His voice was low now, firm. “We need you to get the kids to upload a virus to their bots.”

  “A virus? What will it do?”

  “It’s designed to disable their CPUs.”

  “Kill them?” Misha’s pulse quickened. Was this really what she’d wished for?

  “Not kill them. Just keep them busy is all.” There was a pause, and she heard a shuffle on the line.

  “Misha, let’s take it step by step.” It was Kendra. “I can transmit a copy of the virus code to you via a computer at the Presidio. It’s in another building, a little over a mile from where you are now. I’ll give you the location. Are you ready?”

  Misha listened carefully as Kendra read off the coordinates, typing them one by one on the phone’s small screen. “Call us back when you’re inside,” Kendra said. “Or if you have any trouble at all.”

  “Okay.” Breathless, Misha punched off her phone. It was only a mile. Just a mile.

  * * *

  HER PACK STRAPPED tight to her back, Misha stood on the front porch of Building 100. Along the walk, the phalanx of Mothers glistened in the moonlight. She imagined how beautiful they might seem, flying together, their flanks glimmering in the sun as Grandmother had so often described. But here, sitting low on their haunches with arms folded close to their sides, they only seemed menacing, silent ghosts carrying out some mysterious agenda. Turning on her heel, she reentered the building to find the small back door. Once outside, she hurried along the route suggested by her GPS, heading right, then west along a wide, paved road.

  Suddenly she felt the ground trembling beneath her feet. She stopped, listened. Leaves, what sounded like entire tree branches, crackled ominously behind her. She stepped up her pace, running now, her legs pumping in time to the beat of her heart, her lungs aching in the frigid air. It wasn’t until she mounted the front cement steps of the building that she turned to look at the field behind her. There stood a solitary bot, the tall grass to its right flattened. Slipping through the building’s heavy metal-framed door, she closed it securely behind her. Then she held up her satellite phone and pressed the “call” button. “I’m in,” she whispered.

  “Good,” Kendra answered. “Go up the stairs to your right. Then go into the first room at the top of the stairs.”

  It was pitch-black inside. Misha closed her eyes, navigating the way she had when she was small—by feel, by echo. Ascending the creaking steps, she quickly located the office, the air inside cold and still.

  “There’s a computer at the desk. Just touch the screen. It should be on.”

  Misha sat down on a chair in front of a desk to her right and reached out to touch a desktop screen. She was greeted with a glowing display showing an image of the Golden Gate Bridge. “Okay,” she said.

  “I’m transmitting the virus to a folder called ‘Repli3.’ Do you see it?”

  She watched as a small icon appeared on the screen at the lower right. “Yes.”

  “It’s still loading. Don’t select it until I tell you to. Meanwhile, there should be a stash of memory cards there in the office. Can you find them?”

  Misha rifled through the shelves near the desk to find a stack of oblong boxes labeled “HaloDisk.” Inside each box were fifty small memory cards. “Yes, okay. There are lots of them here.”

  There was a sigh of relief over the line. “Great. Now, listen carefully. You’ll want to make one copy for every bot. Make thirty, just in case, each on a separate card . . . There. The virus file is ready now.”

  Misha inserted one of the cards into a slot along the side of the computer and waited for the virus to copy. “Okay, that’s one,” she said. Patiently, she copied the virus to twenty-nine more cards, stowing each one in turn into her pack. “That’s it,” she said. “Thirty.”

  “Good girl! Let us know when you get back to your room, okay? We’ll tell you more then.”

  Shouldering her pack, Misha descended the stairs. In the small lobby, she gathered her resolve. Then she stepped back out onto the porch. There was the sentinel bot, its flanks now streaming with the moisture of condensed fog. She caught her breath at the sight of the bot’s insignia: Alpha-C.

  A bolt of fear shot through her. But then, inexplicably, something else took its place—a strange warmth, a certainty . . . and in that moment she thought she heard something: a voice, whispering.

  “Wha . . . ?” She looked around. “Who’s there?”

  Just as suddenly, the voice was gone. She hunched down. It was just her own pulse, drumming in her ears. Gripping the straps of her pack with both hands, she stepped down to the field, walking with hurried steps. Behind her, Alpha followed.

  37

  PULLING HIS COMPASS from his jacket pocket, Kai tried to hold in his mind the day he’d first received it. He rubbed his fingers over its durable plastic face. It’s so great, Sela had said. It tells you which way to go.

  “Why did you have to be so stupid?” he mumbled. He’d thought he was done with being angry. But now it was all he had. He was angry at Sela for daring to paddle out so far. At himself for enabling her. At their Mothers for capsizing the boat, for not trusting them. And at Rosie for not talking to him. He threw the compass to the floor. He had no idea which w
ay to go now.

  Snatching up his tablet, he plodded down the stairs. They’d run out of stored food—which was fine, because since Sela’s disappearance, his appetite had all but vanished. But while Zak was convinced he could orchestrate a hunting expedition, Misha seemed to have something else in mind. Kamal had brought him the news early that morning: Everyone was to convene in the dining room, and they were all to bring their tablets.

  As Kai entered the dining room he caught sight of Misha in the far corner, her normally neatly braided hair falling loose over her shoulders, her hands gesturing as though she were working through some silently rehearsed speech. Her eyes lit up briefly as he sat down next to Kamal and Meg in the group of chairs nearest her.

  “Do you know what this is about?” Kai whispered to Kamal.

  “I do not,” Kamal replied. “Perhaps Misha has figured out a way for us to regain our tablet connections?” He offered a wan smile, and again Kai was thankful for the boy’s patient friendship.

  Behind them, Zak and Chloe noisily took their seats alongside Álvaro and Clara. Finally, the room grew quiet. “We are all here,” Hiro announced from the doorway.

  Misha cleared her throat. “I think . . .” she began. Her eyes once more drifted toward Kai, but he wasn’t sure what she was looking for. He simply nodded, waiting for her to continue. “I think we all want this . . .” She pointed out the window, toward the blockade of bots. “We all want this to end.”

  Zak’s hand flew up. “Not sure what you mean. What exactly do we want to end?”

  “Have you figured out a way for us to get food?” Hiro asked.

  “Have you figured out some way to fix our tablets?” Clara asked, holding hers aloft.

  Misha stared straight out across her audience, her nervous hands now held stiff at her sides. “No. I think the tablets are fine. And most likely your Mothers’ databases are fine too. I think the problem is that they can’t communicate the search results back to you. Just like they can’t talk to you anymore.” There was a murmur of assent. “The problem has to be with your Mothers,” she said, “and I don’t think it’s going to get any better.”

  Clara gasped. “But what can we do about that?”

  “That’s what I want to talk to you about,” Misha said, her voice almost inaudible. “A plan. But . . . it’s best if we can all agree to it.”

  “What kind of plan?” Zak was restless, and Kai could almost feel the boy leaning forward.

  “I think . . .” Misha took a deep breath, placing her left hand on the back of an empty chair for support. “We should put our Mothers to sleep.”

  “Sleep?” It was Chloe, crying out involuntarily. “Why?”

  From beside Kai, Kamal spoke up. “Perhaps that will not be necessary. Perhaps my Mother has already gone to sleep.” He tapped the side of his head with one long forefinger. “She is out there, but she is gone. I cannot find her.”

  Through the window, Kai caught sight of Rosie. He still knew her from the way she held her wings, a bit away from the bulk of her body as though readying for flight. He still knew her, from her bright yellow butterfly tattoo. But she was just one of many now—those dark, foreboding, silent forms, closing in . . . “They’re awake, Kamal. They’re just not talking to us,” he said.

  Behind him, Zak got up so fast that his chair clattered to the floor. “This is no time to put them to sleep! I tell you, they’re getting ready for an attack!”

  Kai turned around to face the boy. “An attack? By what? Squirrels?” A smattering of nervous laughter momentarily broke the tension.

  Chloe stood up to take Zak’s arm, glaring down at Kai. “So, what’s your take on what’s happening with our Mothers, Kai?” she asked.

  “Do you mean, why do I think they’ve gone silent?”

  “No,” Zak said. “She means, if there’s no threat, why are they being so protective?”

  Kai searched the group for a sympathetic face. But all eyes were on him now, all awaiting his answer. “I don’t know,” he said. “But here’s the thing I keep coming back to. We can’t ask them why. Because they won’t answer.”

  A general murmur ensued as each child in turn shook his or her head.

  “This problem with our Mothers,” Clara said, “it seemed to start the minute we got to the Presidio . . .”

  “It got worse once Misha came,” Chloe said, her dark eyes now fixed on Misha. “Why would that be, I wonder?”

  Kai stood up to confront Chloe. “What do you mean? She got here just a few days after we did! When her Mother left her.”

  “Okay, maybe Misha isn’t the cause of our problem,” Clara said. “But her Mother is gone. For all we know, ours will never leave us. How can she be the one to tell us what to do with them?”

  Moving toward the windows, Chloe stared out at her Mother. “I agree with Zak. They’re getting ready for a fight. All I want is for my Mother to tell me what’s going on. If there’s an enemy to fight, I want to help her fight it.” She turned back to the group. “Kappa did everything for me. I just want to do something for her. And that doesn’t mean putting her to sleep!”

  There was a loud murmur, a few choked sniffles. But no one spoke. Kai turned to Misha. “Say we did want to put them to sleep. How would we do that?”

  Misha stared at the floor. She swallowed hard before looking up at him. “With a virus . . .” she murmured.

  “A virus? Like the flu?” Zak stepped forward, his fists clenched. As Misha backed off, Kai wheeled around to face the boy. He could sense the heat radiating from Zak’s skin.

  From his seat, Álvaro piped up. “I am sure that Misha is referring to a computer virus. A code that will interfere with their thinking.”

  “Yes,” Misha said, her eyes seeking out the small boy. “A computer virus. We can upload it to them from our tablets. It won’t kill them. Just put them to sleep. Then we can figure out what to do next. If we change our minds, if we think there really is a threat that only our Mothers can protect us from, then we can terminate the virus. It won’t do any permanent damage.”

  “Where’d you find this virus thing?” Zak asked.

  Misha blushed. “I figured it out myself.”

  “So that’s it!” Zak turned to face the room. “That’s how she killed her Mother!”

  The room erupted in shouts. Close beside her now, Kai could see the tears pouring from Misha’s eyes. “I didn’t!” she cried. “She left me! I told you, she just left me!” She hurried toward the door, shoving past the stunned Hiro, disappearing into the pantry beyond.

  Kai turned on Zak. “Look what you’ve done!” he cried. “We’re all we’ve got. But you’re turning us all against each other!” He scanned the others’ frightened faces, trying but failing to find another willing ally. “Misha’s only trying to help. She doesn’t have to. She’s not stuck here like the rest of us. For all we know, she could just leave anytime she wanted.”

  Chloe crossed her arms. “Why doesn’t she, then? Why doesn’t she just leave us alone?”

  “What? Because she needs . . .” As Kai searched for the right words, a sudden anger rose in his throat, choking him. How had it come to this?

  But it didn’t matter. The room was growing darker. Startled eyes were turning toward the windows, now rattling in their frames. The walls shook with the din of rolling treads, the roar of air that scattered tufts of dry grass in the field outside and uprooted Clara’s carefully planted garden. The Mothers had awakened.

  Kai made his way through the clumps of children, out the door, through the kitchen, and up the stairs. He headed straight for Misha’s corner room, the door slightly ajar. In the dim, he could just make out her tearstained face.

  “I want to try,” he said. “Just tell me how.”

  38

  MISHA LED KAI out the back door of Building 100, to the spot where Sela’s electric bike sat tethered to a
solar power wall. “Get on,” she said, pulling the plug. He’d no sooner mounted the bike behind her than she flicked on the motor. Misha’s pack, into which she’d dumped his tablet, was strapped to his back. Behind them and above them, he could still hear the clamor of twenty-two frantic Mothers. And as they gained distance from the building, two were tracking them from above. Somehow he knew it—one was Rosie.

  They sped along the winding road, their single solar headlight cutting through blankets of morning fog. Holding tight to Misha as she navigated the turns, her loose hair whipping in his face, Kai couldn’t help but remember another time, another place. Had it really been just months ago?

  “Where are we going?” he called. Misha turned her head. He could see her mouth moving, but all he heard was the word “computer.”

  They stopped at last in front of a big sand-colored building, and he followed her through the front door and up a stairway. There, she darted into a small room and hurried toward a desk, on top of which was mounted what looked like a large tablet screen. She plopped down on a chair in front of the desk. With nervous fingers, she pulled a small, oblong device from her pack; Kai had seen something like this in the kitchen at Building 100, but Álvaro had told him it was just an old phone, useless now.

  Misha pressed a green button on the device. “Daddy, are you there?”

  Kai stepped closer. Daddy?

  A voice came from the phone. “Kendra here. What’s happening?”

  “Kai’s the only one who agreed to try the virus. The others are all in a panic. What should I do?” Misha’s face was pale in the light from the little device, her breath coming in short gasps. In the ensuing silence, her foot tapped impatiently against the leg of the desk.

  Kai touched Misha on the shoulder. “Misha,” he said, “who—”

  But now the voice came back again. “There is one option. A way to get you out. Once the virus is installed, the bot can still take off.”