Bleaker

by Jacqueline Druga

  “What about food issued to homes instead of letting people shop for what they want?” Nate asked.

  “We had a food shortage when we left,” Finch replied. “It was getting bad.”

  “Not really,” Sam added. “It was resolving nicely thanks to Tucker. When you guys left, they predicted in twenty years the population could starve. Didn’t happen thanks to him”—he pointed to Tucker—“and I still think there was a plague or sickness. They tried to be proactive. They had a vaccine day.”

  Finch nodded. “Could they have been vaccinating for something else?”

  “Is there a single scenario you buy?” Nate asked. “You doubt Sam. You doubt us.”

  “That’s not it,” Finch said. “I am just being logical. I want the truth just as badly as you do.”

  “I get it,” Rey said. “I do. You’re not shooting to be a dick.”

  “Um…thanks.”

  “It was just strange,” Rey said with a sigh. “The houses got a box each and there was no way to pay. None that we could see. Except four things that looked like bar code scanners. We couldn’t tell for sure without power.” She looked to the table at the sound of something landing on it.

  Five of those exercise bracelets were there.

  “Those,” Tucker said, “were how people paid. So many of them laying around. That had to be how they did everything. They scanned your bracelet. It’s how you paid, showed ID, everything. Bet me.”

  “Now that,” Finch said, “I can buy. Do you have a theory on what happened here?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Tucker said with certainty. “Everyone in this town, all hundred and some thousand…was killed. Killed, dumped, burned.”

  Everyone responded with a shocked and disbelieving, “What?”

  “On purpose,” Tucker said. “In case I didn’t imply that enough.”

  “Okay, wait, what?” Sam blurted out with nearly a laugh. “A plague is hard enough to believe, but you think everyone here was killed on purpose.”

  “Yep.”

  “By whom?” Sam asked. “The government?”

  “No.” Tucker reached into his side bag, pulled out an object and placed it on the table.

  “What in God’s name?” Nate asked.

  It wasn’t big—it was part of an arm. Mid forearm, wrist, and hand. But not human. The top of it was dull gray and the underside was shiny and metal. The fingers weren’t clunky, in fact they looked intricate.

  “Robots,” Tucker said.

  “You think that belongs to a robot?” Sam asked.

  “Yes.”

  Sam laughed. “That’s a prosthetic. You and I both know they had robotic prosthetics.”

  Tucker shook his head. “I don’t think so, Sam. This is really sophisticated.”

  Nate looked up to Finch. “Anything? Waiting for you to tear this down.”

  “Oh, I am,” Finch said. “Tuck, yeah it looks sophisticated. And even though robotics has been around since at least the 1930 world fair, they had not progressed to the point that they could be killing machines. I mean, for that much of an advancement, humanoid robots would have had to be around when we were on Earth.”

  “I’m telling you…” Tucker said. “From what I saw they were.”

  “What did you see?” Sam asked. “Really, what did you see?”

  “The bullet holes in the pizza shop,” Tucker said. “No bodies or signs of bodies, just the bracelets. Right? We saw that false wall in the garage with a hole in it. Today…in that convenience store was another false wall, with a huge hole blown in it. That’s where I found this.” He pointed to the arm. “I think it was a trap for the robots. I think some sort of resistance formed and the bracelets were a way for robots to track people and they dropped the bracelets to lure the robots into a trap.”

  Sam laughed. “This isn’t Terminator, Tuck.”

  Finch quickly looked at Rey when he heard her whisper, “Oh my God.”

  “Rey?” Finch called her attention.

  “Oh my God,” she said with revelation. “I think he’s right.”

  “You too?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, me too.” She turned to Nate. “You know it.”

  Nate ran his hand down his face and exhaled dropping his shoulders. “He may be right.”

  Finch shifted his eyes from Nate to Rey. “What do you two know?”

  Whatever happened in Fort Collins had occurred over twenty-five years earlier, but it still didn’t stop Finch from wanting to be cautious. It wasn’t completely dark, yet he set up perimeters and had Sam and Nate stay behind while Rey led the way to the urgent care.

  They went twice.

  The first time was for Rey to show them what she and Nate had found, and the second time was for Finch to return to get a dolly.

  Tucker spotted a couple of boxes he found interesting.

  They took everything back to the Omni where Nate and Sam waited inside.

  It was evident that Tucker wanted to drive the point home to his friend and did so with dramatic flare when he set the head on the table with a thump.

  Sam jumped back.

  “Believe me now?”

  TWENTY-TWO

  There was a lot of talk when they returned from the urgent care.

  Rey knew Sam understood what Tucker was saying about what had been found there. Still, like Finch, he was finding logical explanations because what Tucker was suggesting just wasn’t feasible in only seventy-five years. Knowing the state of technology when they left Earth, sure there were robots and possibly they advanced after they left, but to the point where they used artificial intelligence, thought on their own, sought out and killed all people was pushing the limits of believability.

  Even for Rey.

  But it was still the explanation that made the most sense even if it wasn’t probable.

  Tucker had found boxes in the storage area by the diagnostics room when he went back.

  There were three.

  One was open, the other two were sealed, and despite how hard he tried he couldn’t find the missing box. He knew there was one because the cartons were marked, ‘One of Four,’ ‘two of four’ and so on.

  The outside of each box was also labeled, VP-175—Tucker and Sam wanted to know exactly what that was.

  Sam was the engineer and dove headfirst into things. Rey figured it was to disprove Tucker’s science fiction theory.

  After at least two hours of them playing with a tiny square object they found in the open box, trying to figure it out, get it to work, Rey gave up and, like Finch and Nate, went to bed.

  It wasn’t that it was late, but tomorrow was going to be a long day because in the morning they were heading to that farm.

  More so than the boxes, the high school, urgent care, or town, if a farmer lived there then he or she would be the best source of answers, and for that, Rey couldn’t wait.

  The Omni didn’t have much room for sleeping. They were set up for flight, eating, and medical. As far as sleeping, each crew member had their inflatable quarters.

  But not everyone felt like setting theirs up.

  Not that it was difficult, it wasn’t. Finch had erected the outdoor shower stall, which connected to the ship’s water supply. Though the water pressure wasn’t strong and it was timed for four minutes, it was roomier than the one onboard, less claustrophobic.

  Rey took her night shower, hoping it would relax her. It did.

  She went on board to find a spot to rest.

  Finch was asleep in the pilot’s seat with his feet extended to the co-pilot chair and Nate on the bench seating in the dining quarters.

  She debated on just stealing Sam’s inflatable quarters since his was the only one erected and he seemed preoccupied outside with Tucker. But with the way they were talking back and forth, Rey knew she wouldn’t get any rest, so she retreated to the medical bay to crash on the cot.

  She found a small bottle that Curt had stashed away in the cabinet under the sink and poured a small night cap. After fifteen mi
nutes of tossing and turning, and trying to block out Sam and Tucker’s voices, she finally fell asleep.

  It wasn’t for long, at least she didn’t think so. She was awoken by Tucker’s juvenile sounding “ow” along with laughter.

  “Too tight?” Sam asked.

  “Uh…”

  “Let’s try it again.”

  It went quiet, Rey closed her eyes.

  “Your pulse is elevated,” a strange male voice said.

  “Ow,” Tucker said.

  “Still too tight?” Sam questioned.

  “Yeah, just a bit.”

  “This should do it,” Sam said. “Hand out.”

  “I do not understand why I must keep checking your pulse,” the male voice said again. “Is there something you are not telling me?”

  “Better,” replied Tucker. “I think you have it.”

  “Have what?” asked the man. “What is better? Are you better, Mr. Milner?”

  Rey sat up, swinging her legs over the cot. What the hell? Mr. Milner?

  “A little, yes,” Tucker said.

  “I see that this must be an emergency?”

  Rey made her way from the medical bay.

  “Mr. Milner, would you like me to biopsy that discoloration on your forehead?”

  “What? No. That’s fine.”

  Nate was still asleep when Rey passed him. Wires were running across the floor of the ship to the outside, so she followed them.

  Sam had two computers set up on a table, but the wires didn’t extend to them, they extended to the partially human-looking robot that was sitting on one of the metal storage boxes.

  It was dark and the area was lit by dim lights. The mechanical being was white and gray, reminding Rey of a thinner version of the storm troopers, with the exception of the face. It looked even creepier than when she’d found it on the floor. Its eyes moved left to right, blinked, and the plastic face contorted in a mock facial expression.

  “Uh, guys?” she called, stepping outside.

  “Oh, hey, Rey,” Tucker said. “Just in time. We’re almost ready to unhook him.”

  “Yeah,” Sam said. “We don’t want him to rely on those bracelets. He has to reply to responses.”

  “Can you do that?” Tucker asked.

  “Yep,” Sam said. “Just need to program him to ask for information.”

  “Will he know I’m not Mr. Milner?” Tucker asked as he placed the bracelet back in his bag.

  “He will after I reboot him. Which I will. I’m wiping him fresh and we’ll start again.”

  “You guys…you did this?” Rey asked.

  Sam nodded. “We did.” His finger tapped a key. “It’ll be about fifteen minutes. Then Buster is ready to go.”

  The robot.

  “Buster?” Rey asked.

  “Yep,” Tucker replied. “Thought it fitting since he technically is busted. He’s missing the lower portion of his calves and feet. So he can’t really move. He tries. His little limbs go back and forth. I don’t suppose he was meant to be a big fella. Maybe five feet.”

  “Okay so…wait,” Rey said. “Earlier today you said robots killed everyone, but you built one.”

  “It was brand new,” Tucker said. “Came from a box.”

  “And,” Sam added, “it’s a VP. Virtual Physician.”

  “Why did they call it virtual?” Tucker asked. “That implies it’s not real.”

  “It’s not,” Sam said. “Check this out, Rey, the manual, which was on that little disk we found, it was called, ‘getting to know your Virtual Physician.’ He has the equivalent of medical degrees in nine different specialties. Can diagnose, test, treat…”

  “And,” Tucker added, “the AI was programmed to keep memories, so it thinks it’s treated people before. I think these things were supposed to replace doctors.”

  “But it’s still a robot, and you think robots killed everyone.”

  “Not these ones.” Tucker pointed to Buster. “I think there were other ones.”

  “None of this strikes you as odd?” Rey asked. “You’re only fifty years passed when you left and this doesn’t seem like way too high tech for you.”

  “It did at first,” said Sam. “Then I saw the components of the bot weren’t really that far advanced. I think these were in the works long before we knew about them.”

  “Like a secret,” Tucker replied. “Waiting to be rolled out.”

  “I don’t know,” Rey said, walking closer to Buster. “You’re keeping him?”

  “Absolutely, he can be a great help. I just gotta figure out how to make him mobile.”

  “I want to look tomorrow,” Sam said. “After we go to the farm. I’m thinking I can make him something basic.”

  “Wish we had his legs though,” Tucker said.

  “Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Like the arms, they probably popped right on.”

  Rey pointed to the bot. “So this futuristic thing was more than likely already developed when the Omni lifted off. Man, they could have been helpful to the world. We had that doctor shortage.”

  “Or not,” Sam replied. “I think they did finally release the robots, and if Tucker was right, they took over like Terminator or something. This is just a guess.”

  “That’s assuming,” Rey said, “they went rogue. If they killed everyone, then we don’t know if they were programmed to do it or not.”

  “This one is not,” Sam said. “I saw nothing in the programing that would let me believe otherwise. In fact, ask Tucker, I had data stuff from JAXA and NASA dating back to the early nineteen nineties and this program has a lot of similar basic code.”

  “So it was around then?” Rey asked.

  “No.” Sam shook his head. “The materials used to make him are new to me. His power source…” He waved his finger for Rey to follow him and he walked to the back of Buster. “These…” He pointed to three rectangles, six inches wide, one on each shoulder. Then he pointed to a similar, yet smaller one on the back of Buster’s head. “These are his cells. Even in low level UV, he will charge. They pull out”—Sam demonstrated how they lifted out some—“for full charging and he’ll charge faster when he’s in reserve and sleep mode. My point is, these are super similar, on a smaller scale, to how it works on this ship. That technology didn’t appear until ten years before Omni left. At the earliest. I’m saying the code is basic. Like some old programmer may have helped design him.”

  “So he may have been designed and built, but unable to power like this…” Rey said.

  Sam nodded. “Not too long before Omni.”

  A slight whirring mechanical noise precluded Buster opening his eyes.

  Rey jumped back.

  Buster turned his head left to right. “Hello. I am Doctor VP-175, how are you this evening?” He spoke smooth, slow, and with only a slight hint of a computerized voice.

  Sam approached him. “We are fine.”

  “Is this my assignment?” Buster asked. “Am I to administer medical attention in a field situation?”

  “No,” Sam replied. “You have been assigned to our spaceship. We are part of the crew. I am Sam, this is Rey…” He pointed. “And Tucker.”

  “We use first names,” Tucker said. “You’re Buster.”

  “Very well,” Buster replied. “Buster is a fine name. I seem to be missing my lower limbs, Tucker. How shall I move around on the spaceship?”

  “We’re working on that. Maybe by tomorrow,” Tucker said. “Unfortunately, you were the discounted defective model.”

  “Please do not call me defective. That is offensive since I am physically disabled.”

  Rey stifled her laugh. As frightening as Buster was to her, she was intrigued. She could only imagine the reactions of Finch and Nate when they saw. She was certain, like her, they would be amazed.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Rey hadn’t known Finch that long, but she had known him long enough to learn he was a man in control. His voice always remained calm, and never projected anything less than the
man in charge.

  It had been evident from the get-go, through his strength and demeanor, that Finch was meant to be commander.

  That was why it was such a shock to Rey when Finch reacted to Buster.

  At first it was strange. Like he’d slept in a king-size bed somewhere; he was awake and looked refreshed when he came from the flight room.

  Rey didn’t expect him to overreact, but she thought a cup of coffee would soften the blow when he saw Buster standing in the hall.

  Rey extended a cup to him.

  “You’re up early,” Finch told her, taking his coffee. “Thank you.”

  “I haven’t been to bed.”

  “Well, that’s not exactly going to help. We have a long day.”

  “True. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Did you eat yet?” Finch asked, sipping his coffee.

  “No, I was waiting for you. Plus, I’m excited to get started.”

  “We’ll do that. I’m going to grab a shower.” He set down his cup. “I won’t be long.”

  “Morning, Commander Finch,” said Buster.

  “Morning,” Finch replied and walked out.

  Rey waited for it. The second Finch realized not only was there a short, legless robot standing on the ship, but it talked to him.

  But he didn’t react, not at that moment. She heard him say good morning to Sam and Nate who were outside. Then she heard the water.

  Somewhere in that four minutes it must have hit him, because Finch came flying back into the ship, his shirt in hand, body wet from the shower, and his pants barely fastened.

  “What…is that?” He pointed at Buster.

  Buster replied, “We have not been properly introduced. I am Doctor Buster VP-175, Chief Medical Officer for this mission.”

  Finch’s eyes widened and one word came from his mouth, with the sound and resonance of a scolding parent. “Tucker!”

  “What were you thinking?” Finch nearly blasted Tucker and Sam. “Take it apart.”

  “Sir,” Buster spoke. “To disassemble me would be a great disservice to your crew’s well-being.”

  Finch ignored Buster. “Take it apart.”