“I need to go,” she said.
He sat up straight. The wall he was leaning on was horribly hard and the platform wasn’t any softer. His tailbone and back ached. Zhenyi disappeared from view, but he could still hear her footsteps. She wouldn’t get far. The platform and the tower were their shared prison. Then he heard a stream of water.
Shit. They should have captured the urine somehow if they didn’t want to die of thirst. The spacesuit had a treatment apparatus. He could have converted it to drinking water. But would it even make a difference now? The Curies had simply disappeared after killing the Secretary the day before. No word of explanation, nothing. Only fictional villains gave reasons. This was real life. Why should the Curies waste words on them?
Zhenyi was coming back, he could hear her steps. Then he saw her. She was still beautiful, even when she looked wretched. He probably didn’t look any fresher. She sat down again. He lay his arm around her and she snuggled up to him. Kepler read the time from his universal device. It was just after three in the morning. He was tired. It would be best to sleep. Or should he be working on a plan for their rescue? But their situation was unambiguous. They were sitting here. The exit was on the other side. In between lay an abyss measuring twenty meters across. Maybe it was only fifteen, or it could be thirty. That didn’t change anything. They wouldn’t be able to bridge the gap because they couldn’t fly.
Kepler dreamt of his daughter. It was one of those waking dreams that often ambushed him, but his daughter had never appeared in them before. He knew he was dreaming, and he also knew that his daughter couldn’t be there, because he had externalized her memory. Maybe it was something to do with his current surroundings. He was even aware while dreaming that he was in the terrestrial archive and was about to die.
His daughter waved at him. They were standing on a narrow path on the side of a mountain. Huge trees threw shadows on the path, but a few dancing rays of sunlight made it through the foliage, illuminating a fine, swirling dust that was in the air.
Between himself and his daughter a small stream tumbled down into the valley. The water was crystal clear and cold. He had already drunk from it.
“Come on, father,” said his daughter in the dream he’d never dreamt before. “Hurry up.”
She wanted him to follow the path through the stream. But the algae-covered rocks were too slippery. He had tried it. He couldn’t go any further or he’d fall. The fact that his daughter had managed to get across didn’t convince him.
“Shall I hold your hand?” she asked.
He shook his head. He couldn’t follow her. She would have to walk to the end of the path alone. He would turn around.
“I’ll come and get you,” his daughter said to him as though to a frightened child.
“No,” he insisted.
But she didn’t listen. She was no longer a child, but even as a child she’d been stubborn. She stepped on the slippery stones, one step, two steps—it was only five steps to him, but on the fourth she slipped.
“Oops,” said his daughter. Then she spread out her arms and fell.
There was a metallic clanging sound. Kepler woke up. The noise couldn’t have been part of his dream. A body smashing onto a river bed sounded different. He didn’t know exactly how, because he’d offloaded that memory, but it was different, not metallic.
He cautiously tapped Zhenyi on the shoulder. She didn’t react. She was asleep with her mouth open. There was movement behind her eyelids. She must be dreaming too. The archive with its collected images seemed to sneak sidelong into people’s thoughts. No, that was nonsense. Their lives were under threat. Maybe that made you dream more vividly.
Another sound. Yes, there was a scratching, metal on metal. The sounds came from below. Kepler pushed Zhenyi’s upper body aside so he could stand up. She was still sleeping deeply. He went to the platform railing. The sound was coming from the right. He looked in that direction and listened keenly.
There, the scratching. It was coming out of the darkness. The light that was always around them didn’t reach down far enough. But there was something there. Should he wake Zhenyi? It was probably only an animal. Were there animals in the archive? Back in the day, when the sun had engulfed the planet, it had sterilized its surface. But down there in the depths? Life always found a way. There had been more biomass in the cities than in the national parks before the catastrophe. Maybe rats had survived down there, had mutated, and now fed on the visitors.
That made no sense, of course. He was glad he hadn’t said that to Zhenyi. The number of visitors was far too small for a population of animals to sustain themselves on. But what it might look like down in the lower regions of the memory stores was anyone’s guess. They were stuck near the surface. Was it possible that nature had long since triumphed over technology and was now sending a spy to check out the newcomers?
There. A black appendage emerged out of the darkness on the other side of the abyss. It was the thickness of a forearm, and on the end—Kepler could hardly believe it—was a hand. It touched the metal surface and splayed out its fingers. The fingers scraped on the metal, and then pushed into it. That’s what was creating the scratching sound—something down there was climbing up by digging its fingers in. That was definitely a product of evolution.
The black appendage bent at the joints. It pulled something up after it. Then a second arm came into the light. Between the two arms hung a narrow, sack-like body made of flexible material. Kepler had imagined an insect, but this was no exoskeleton. It could almost be a human body if there wasn’t something like an egg hanging sideways off its back. The body was black. At the top it had a kind of collar below which was white fabric.
Shit, it was the butler. Kepler had to look away. The fall had battered him terribly. But he was still functioning. He was giving it all he had to get back up. He looked less like a human and more like a mad machine.
He should wake Zhenyi and tell her that Puppy was back. She had cried over him for several minutes. Kepler went to her and bent to kiss her. She returned the kiss. Kepler pulled away and laid his hands on her shoulders.
“What is it?” she asked.
“The butler. He’s back.”
“What?” Zhenyi sprang up.
Her forehead cracked against his. Man, did that hurt! There was going to be a huge lump. Kepler clenched his teeth but tears still welled up in his eyes.
“Where is he?” At that moment she heard the sound. She quickly oriented herself and then went to the railing. “You were right,” she said. “Puppy, we’re here!” she called down to him.
The butler moved his head. His neck seemed to be broken. His head rolled around on his back, but it was now looking in her direction. “I’ll rescue you,” he called.
“I know,” replied Zhenyi.
Kepler was skeptical. There was a big problem. The butler was climbing up the opposite side of the abyss, the side where the Curies had shot the Secretary. That was the way out, but it wouldn’t help them. They still couldn’t fly, and the butler couldn’t teach them to.
He was glad Zhenyi was happy, but that wouldn’t change the story. They would die.
“Made it,” called the butler.
His head was now hanging the wrong way around against his chest. When he spoke it sounded like his speech was badly synchronized. That was probably because his mouth was upturned 180 degrees. Would the impression be canceled out if Kepler stood on his head himself? The butler’s body seemed to be otherwise hardly damaged. The tuxedo was torn at the shoulders, probably from landing on them, and his fingers had no skin on them. The butler must have removed it himself so he could use the titanium skeleton underneath to dig into the walls. Kepler looked at his own hands and started to imagine the flesh being torn off the bones. No, he’d rather not.
And now? No one said anything.
Zhenyi had probably realized too that they weren’t any further ahead. “Where did you come from?” she asked.
“I had to climb ab
out eight kilometers,” said the butler.
“You fell eight kilometers down there?”
“That’s correct. Then I slammed into a bridge.”
“Does that mean there are other connections to our tower further down?”
“I can confirm that.”
“Can you see a route that we could use to get out of here?”
That wouldn’t work. Did Zhenyi somehow think he’d voluntarily climb down the tower without a rope? thought Kepler.
“A human couldn’t manage the climb down and back up.”
Thank you, Puppy.
“Then we’ll have to find a way to pull this bridge back up,” said Zhenyi. “The Secretary must have folded it down somehow. Maybe there’s a switch somewhere over there. It can’t be far from the place where he was killed.”
“Columbus is dead?” asked the butler.
“The Curies shot him after you fell,” said Zhenyi.
“Oh. I had my suspicions something wasn’t right.”
“You had your suspicions? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It was so vague. Do you remember how Columbus couldn’t open the door at first?”
Yes, and then it suddenly opened, thought Kepler. Why hadn’t they paid more attention to that? But would they have done anything differently if they had?
“Yes,” said Zhenyi, “it seemed strange to me too. But I was pleased when he did. We couldn’t have turned around just because something happened exactly as we’d wanted it to.”
“The Curies must have been observing us already by that point,” said the butler, and swung his head around.
“Right. But why the effort?” asked Zhenyi. “They could have just shot us all.”
“Maybe that was too dangerous for them. There were four of us, they’re one,” said Kepler.
“Possibly,” said Zhenyi. “But maybe they also wanted us alive, because they’ve got something in mind for us.”
“Then they’ll be coming back soon,” said Kepler. “Otherwise all they’d find would be two dried up corpses.”
“I’ve found something,” called the butler. He was holding his head in his hand. His neck was so long and flexible he could spin the head around in all directions.
“What have you got?” asked Zhenyi.
“Two meters away from the Secretary’s body is a switchboard.”
“That must be the bridge controls.”
“I’ll activate it.”
A shrill tone. That didn’t sound good. Another shrill tone.
“What’s wrong?” asked Zhenyi.
“I don’t have the right authorization,” replied the butler. “The AI isn’t prepared to make an exception.”
“Even though there are human lives at stake?”
“Even then. I have the impression it’s especially unwilling to help because it’s angry with us.”
“Why?”
“Because humans disintegrated the Guardian. It was a god-like figure to it.”
“How do you know that?”
“I exchanged several terabytes of data with it. It accepts me as one of its own.”
“Then can’t you ask one of your own to help us?”
“No chance, Zhenyi. As soon as the conversation comes around to you, it becomes uncooperative. I have free access to everything myself.”
“But not the bridge, right?”
“Unfortunately, no. I need a permit.”
“And who has one?” asked Zhenyi.
“The Convention, but to reach them would take at least twenty kilocycles.”
“By then our mummies would have crumbled into dust. Is no one nearby?”
“The Guardian, the Secretary, and the Curies. I’ve already searched the Secretary. The Guardian no longer exists.”
“That leaves the Curies.”
“Yes, Zhenyi. I’ll find the Curies and take their permit, whatever the cost.”
“How will you do that?”
“I’ll find a way. You can count on me.”
“Thank you, Puppy.”
“Johannes?” Zhenyi was crouching next to him. She was holding a bottle in her hand. It was the emergency ration from his spacesuit.
“Yes?”
“I want you to drink this. Half the bottle.”
“And you?”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Trust me, Johannes. If you trust me, then drink.”
He took the bottle from her but hesitated. If he survived and she died, how would he ever forgive himself?
“Please, Johannes.” Her face was creased, but her gaze was calm and self-assured.
Kepler lifted the bottle to his lips and drank. He trusted her.
Cycle ZX3.7, Terra
The butler crept through the corridors. At each junction he turned around and compared all the details with his photographic memory, ascertaining the direction they’d come from. Puppy’s left leg was dragging a bit, and he was losing hydraulic fluid. It would be good to find a repair station, but that wasn’t a priority right now. His body was fit enough to overpower a human.
He already had a plan. He would cut off the oxygen supply to the Curies’ body by blocking their windpipe with his hand. He would have to make sure the bare metal of his hands didn’t cut too deeply into their skin. Humans’ thin flesh was much more sensitive than his own outer shell. And he would have to restore the oxygen supply again before the Curies’ brain died. He didn’t want to kill them.
Technically, everything was certain. There was no need to worry. He’d inspected the Secretary’s body. It was true, the Curies had a gun. He had simulated its effect. But to be guaranteed to put him out of action, they would have to fire eleven perfect shots at the right points, which they probably weren’t aware of. And if they were—which he had to consider—then it still wasn’t a problem, because the magazine only held eight. They’d have to swap it out. That would be enough time for him to put his plan into action.
He would drag the Curies in a semi-conscious state back to the bridge and force them to activate the switchboard. They wouldn’t want to die. No living being wished to die. He himself didn’t even want to die—he had realized this during his long fall into the interior of the archive.
It had been an exciting discovery, for which he had the Secretary to thank. He wouldn’t have shot him. He would also allow the Curies to live if possible. No living being deserved death.
His only concern was time. Usually time was so irrelevant that he had almost forgotten its influence. But if he couldn’t help Zhenyi and Kepler soon, they would die of dehydration. The human body was a strange construction. It could survive weeks without food, but only a few days without water. And it carried so much water inside it! Why couldn’t humans simply reassign water the way they repurposed body fat for energy? And why hadn’t humans long since corrected this design flaw?
Puppy reached the room just before the exit. Columbus had used the toilet here. That meant there must be running water. He opened the door. It was a women’s toilet. The butler stopped himself—it was wrong to enter this room. His programming was playing tricks on him.
He went in and looked around. Two white basins were attached to the side wall. They had a hole at the bottom, but he could plug that. He tore off a strip off his tuxedo and stuffed the fabric in the hole, then he filled it with water. The liquid was lukewarm. He checked to see if the basin was watertight. It had worked. Now, if he tore it off the wall, he would be back with Zhenyi and Kepler in a couple of hours.
How would he get the water to the other side? He may as well throw the basin away. He wasn’t lacking in strength, but it would lose some of its contents. What if he soaked his clothes in the basin and threw them to the two humans? They could suck the water out. That wasn’t beyond their capabilities, he was reasonably sure.
But then he would lose half a day. And he would be too late anyway. The Curies wouldn’t stay here much longer. They’d leave, and then he could no lo
nger rescue Zhenyi and Kepler. No, they’d have to stay thirsty for a while longer. He left the women’s toilet. In the corridor outside he heard a quiet whooshing sound. It was coming from the other side. He tore the door open. There were two types of basin here, a wide, high one on the left, and a narrower, deeper one on the right. Water was running in one of the basins. The toilets must have an automatic cleaning function. There was nothing here that was of any use to him.
The butler cautiously approached the exit door. It was ajar. Someone had placed a small stone in the hinge so it wouldn’t close. The butler left it there so that he’d be able to get back into the archive. It was dark outside so Puppy lit the way. The beam of light illuminated a fine mist. He tried infrared. If someone had walked this way, he’d detect their trail. But there was nothing.
Where were the Curies? Had they touched down in a shuttle directly in front of the entrance? If so, he’d see signs of disturbance from the landing. They’d probably given themselves such a head-start that their footprints were already cold. He couldn’t find anything in infrared.
There was no choice, he would have to search for them randomly. The butler ran into the valley in the hope of catching up with them. The slope led slightly uphill. There were no signs of anyone having been there in the last few hours. He should turn back, but for some reason he kept going.
Then he saw it. At first Puppy thought it was their own shuttle, but that must be further away, so it could only be the craft the Curies had used to land on Terra. He stopped abruptly. He needed to match his body temperature to the surroundings so he was undetectable.
He gave his body the necessary commands and only then did he creep forward. First he inspected the propulsion unit. It was as cold as its surroundings. It must have been there for a while. The Curies probably had waited for them to land and then followed them.
The butler crept around the ship. It was not emitting energy from anywhere. That could only mean one thing—the life support system was off and the ship was empty. He wasn’t too late, he was too early. The Curies hadn’t yet returned to depart in their landing module. They obviously had other plans. So they were still behind him. He needed to head back immediately.
The Death of the Universe: Hard Science Fiction (Big Rip Book 1) Page 21
