by Neil Clarke
Bruno can’t see throw my hands up in frustration. Damn it, if not now, when? I’m tempted to give up for the day and listen to all the black metal music I own until I feel better. Why the hell is he being so stubborn about this?
Then it hits me. Bruno’s embarrassed that this is happening on his watch. He and his mom came to our town about six months ago, walking all the way from another state, and since then, he’s gone out of his way to be useful here. So basically, he’s just as scared of being a failure to the community and losing his job as I am.
I sigh. «Fine. How about telling the equipment team to give me full access, then? I’m serious, dude. I understand that the Commandos are super important, but I can’t fix shit if I’m stuck at basics here.»
«Sure thing, Gee.»
But he doesn’t fool me with his platitudes. We’re going to have this argument again in T-minus two days, more or less. He’s walking away from the real problem. Which is why he doesn’t see the Commando 237X open its eyes, sit up, curl its fist, and throw a punch worthy of a robot uprising.
Bruno hits the ground with a groan.
Every muscle in my body seizes up. Oh my god, not again. What am I supposed to do?
«Move your ass,» I shout at Bruno and steer the drone so it’s right above him. But then I see that his glasses and the connecting earpiece are lying on the ground ten meters away.
Oh shit, now Bruno can’t hear me when I yell at him. Have I mentioned that Bruno sometimes freezes up at the worst possible times?
I make the drone spin in circles above the fallen glasses, trying to ignore that the lenses have cracks, trying to catch Bruno’s attention. But he spots the massive robot first and his face goes straight white. Then he faints.
Goddamnit, Bruno. I DON’T KNOW HOW TO DO THIS ON MY OWN.
Okay, okay, okay. Shit. Okay. Options? The key’s still in the robot. I still have limited access to the programming. Okay, okay, I think I can make this work.
I land my precious drone on the factory roof. I’m going to need both hands.
All right, step one. I bring up the robot’s video input on my computer screen, because as much it hurts to admit, I think Bruno’s glasses are broken beyond help and I’m not doing this without any visual feedback. So the robot’s “eyes” are now mine too. And it’s staring at Bruno. Which is sort of creepy.
Step two, the kill command. The one I’ve gotten oh so good at using. Except this time, it doesn’t work. Oh god, why isn’t working? The Commando begins moving to where Bruno’s lying sprawled in the dirt and the prompt’s showing that it’s running one of its military self-defense programs. Oh shit. Hard restart, robot. HARD RESTART.
The robot keeps moving forward, its military defensive programming more or less giving me the middle finger at every new line command I enter.
It’s four paces away from Bruno. Two.
«Sorry, dude,» I mutter as I do the only thing I can think of and run the original programming. You know, the one that made it go rogue in the first place.
I swear to god, the robot seems like it’s considering my request, like it’s tempted to give me the middle finger again. But then it stops walking, turns around, and starts moving to the fence. I almost fall out of my chair in relief. Dear god, I’m shaking again. Forget Bruno, my body is going to be a mess tomorrow.
Okay, okay, okay. I’ve got this. And for the record, I’m with Bruno on this one.
We are not going to lose this fucking robot.
While the robot is busy with the fence, I attempt to do the responsible friend thing and leave Bruno a message on his phone. My voice is so ridiculously shaky as I say, «Hey, Bruno, don’t worry, I got things under control,» that I wouldn’t believe me if I heard it. That is, if he actually gets the message. The cellular networks are shitty at best.
But Bruno’s a smart guy. He’ll figure it out. Or at least he’ll be in suspense until he drags his sorry ass to my house and asks me himself. I’m sure I’ll have a good story for him then.
Or at least, I hope so. God, I don’t even want to think about what’ll happen if I lose this robot. It’ll be all my fault and people will never trust me with anything again and that will be the end of my very short career. Worse, there’ll probably be families in neighboring towns that’ll starve if one of our robots gets stolen.
Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick again. My mom is always nagging me to ask for help and shit. I could really use some help now, but my parents and brothers and roommate are all on the road being useful and stuff and my teammate and only other friend in this lonely town is knocked out cold.
I guess that means the girl behind the code will have to do the heavy lifting after all.
So, when the robot finishes tearing that hole in the fence and steps out into the outside world, I go with it.
Here’s a moment of honesty for you: I’ve never been outside my little factory town. Yeah, I know. I mean I did as a little kid, when the roads weren’t in such terrible condition and my family still took vacations to the mountains or the lake and stuff. But nothing cool. I’ve always wanted to see live concerts or try a fresh mango or something, but leisure traveling is not really a thing anymore. Especially not for a chick with mobility issues.
Besides, it would be ridiculous for me to leave. I mean, my family’s here and it’s a good community, even if 85% of the population doesn’t remember I exist because most of the damn buildings have steps at the entrance.
That doesn’t mean I haven’t been working on my endurance, though. I walked almost two kilometers last week before my brother had to give me a piggyback ride home. My plan is to try to hike to the next town one summer, one way or another.
I imagine it’d be just like this, walking through the forest on a muddy but pretty even path, with nothing around except trees and squirrels and moss. Well, the robot’s doing all the heavy lifting right now, but I’m really loving the video feed.
The trail the Commando’s following is one of the delivery routes. According to the canning directory, it’s about 23.4 kilometers until the next town and nothing but forest in the middle.
Where the hell is this robot going? I mean, I’m not complaining because this must be what freedom tastes like. But something about these hacks, I don’t know, just feels off.
«Okay, listen dude, we need you back home,» I tell the robot’s code.
This would be a million times easier if the paranoid equipment team would give me full access. Sometimes I think Bruno is little bit too charming and people forget I’m part of the team. Which, I mean, I am, but I’m more than just a name and a voice, you know? I know I can be useful even though I have to depend on other people for, well, mostly everything that happens outside my house. And with the town barely holding itself together, sometimes I feel like just another responsibility.
Bruno can be straight up macho sometimes, but right now I’d give anything to be as independent as he is.
Though in this case, it’s probably a good thing that I’m not quite like Bruno. Read: Idealistic. Because . . . I might have been a bored kid once. Who taught herself the basics of hacking. A skill I think I’m going to have to use here because I’m not fucking losing this Commando unit.
So the robot walks and I type. It’s slow going for both of us. The muddy trail is a bitch for the machine and my rusty hacking skills are definitely a bitch for me. The only thing I manage to access is the Commando’s audio input and output. I test swear into the microphone and the robot suddenly becomes very foul-mouthed. All the birds in the trees flee.
Screw this. I try doing a hard restart again.
«Help me,» the robot says.
I pause mid-keystroke. What the hell? This is the second time the robot’s said this, but the first time meaning sinks in. Factory robots are programmed to only use that phrase when they’re stuck, like under a pallet or in a ditch. Which sometimes happens when they’re delivering shipments between towns.
But why is it using it now?
Huh. Color me curious. So, for the first time in my very short career as a rogue robot hunter, I let a hacked machine be.
Okay, now I’m confused. Why the hell is the rogue robot standing in front of a pile of fallen trees, staring? Why does this Commando unit stare so much? I mean, there’s nothing special about this spot. It’s just another point on the muddy trail where on one side, the terrain drops off and becomes a steep rocky slope. Like the hundred other spots we’ve passed on this stroll.
Then the trees start to talk.
«Oh, thank god.»
«Holy shit!» I say and almost fall out of my chair again, forgetting I left the audio output is still on. It’s become quite an indelicate robot in my care.
The forest goes silent for a moment and then . . . is that a dog barking?
«Who are you?» say the trees.
«Who the hell are you?» I say. Shit, my hands are shaking again. I might not be the most outdoorsy type of girl, but even I know trees aren’t supposed to talk.
«I’m Evie Stevenson. I could use some help.»
Why does that name sound familiar? «Where . . . where are you?»
«Down here.» Someone—not me—tries to make the robot move its head, but the prompt keeps saying “Invalid command.»
«Damn computer. Actually do you mind?» the trees say.
«Mind what?» I say, but then I see that I’ve somehow gotten temporary access to the robot’s motion control program. What the hell?
Cautiously, I have the robot step forward and tilt its head so that it gets a good look between two fallen trunks. Seriously, who is this terrible hacker?
Then I see the answer.
On a rocky ledge, about three meters below the robot, there’s a lot of open, empty soup cans, one very muddy dog, and one exhausted, muddy white-haired lady.
«Holy shit,» I say. «You’re the hacker?»
«Surprise,» Stevenson says. She looks like she’s about to cry with relief. «Who are you?»
«I’m Gina. I work with Bruno Wong on the robot systems team.»
«Oh, I’ve heard of you. I thought you were just his assistant.»
I sigh. «Trust me, he’s charming and all, but he’s useless without his gadgets.» This makes Stephenson laugh. Sounds likes it’s been a while since she had a good one. It sort of makes me happy cheering her up a bit. «I’ve brought you the robot you wanted, I guess.»
«Thank god. My tablet was starting to get super glitch-y.» She waves her handheld and the thing looks miserable too. Full of cracks. I wonder if I can fix it.
Suddenly, I feel really guilty about stopping the other four hacked robots.
«How did you end up down there, anyway?» I ask.
«I was accompanying a Commando delivering a shipment of cans. The factory needs someone to check on our customers occasionally.» The dog starts barking again and Stevenson beckons it over and puts an arm around it. «It was right before a storm hit and the winds got bad. We shouldn’t have been out here.» She stares at her dog’s ears. «The path got too muddy. The robot lost its footing and slipped but managed to stay on the trail. Me and Peanut lost our footing too, but we weren’t so lucky. The damn robot kept going on its route even though most of the shipment was down here with us.»
That’s when it clicks. «Oh, you’re the missing employee.» I remember seeing her name on the factory employee list. Everyone on it had weird nicknames in parentheses. Stevenson’s was ‘Tougher than your rusty robot, damn it!’
«They thought you ran off,» I say.
Stevenson’s expression is all sadness. «Did they really think I’d abandon them?»
«Yeah, they tend to assume the worst about people.»
«Or make snap decisions.»
I look around my lonely office. «Yeah.»
«Hey, I’d hire you. You figured this out with just an access key.»
That makes me smile. «Okay, listen, I’m going to sign off for a hot second. I think I just heard my roommate come home. Going to see if we can send some help.» I grab my crutches.
«Don’t go. Please,» she says. I think it’s the most desperate thing anyone has ever said to me. I get the feeling that this woman usually doesn’t let anything stop her, but right now, she looks scared.
I put down my crutches. «Okay. What should I do? I’m sort of limited from over here.» And to prove my point, the temporary access I’m using for the robot’s motion controls time out.
«Somehow I really doubt that,» Stevenson says. She’s completely serious, too. «How about giving a lady and her dog a lift?» She taps her tablet. «What’s your MAC address?»
I give it to her and seconds later a new window pops up on my screen. It’s full access to the robot’s program.
Holy shit. My hands are shaking again, but this time with excitement. This is what freedom tastes like.
I make good progress clearing the fallen trees, using the robot, of course. I even start to think this might be a straightforward rescue mission. But then a system warning pops up on screen.
Apparently, the Commando 237X thinks it’s under attack.
Wait, what? Attacked by who?
Then, the robot’s falling. Its video feed bounces as it hits the ground and I’m clutching the end of my desk. Seriously, this has to stop. My stomach cannot handle this shaky camera shit.
«Hang on for a sec, Ms. Stevenson,» I say through clenched teeth. Then I bite my lip, because oh god, I’m going to vomit again if I keep talking.
Fuck it, I’m just going to let the defense program do its thing because if you think you can just attack a rogue Commando in the middle of the woods, then you deserve to be crushed with robotic fury.
According to the code that I refuse to look away from, the robot picks itself up and spins around. It lifts its arms and brings them down over and over again.
Morbid curiosity makes me peek at the screen to see if the Commando has beaten the attacker into a pulp yet.
Then I see who the attacker is. Who is now lying directly under that angry metal arm.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Abort the program, robot. ABORT THE DAMN PROGRAM.
I hate déjà vu. Especially when it’s a repeat of bad ideas. He’s so fucking lucky though. The robot’s arm stops centimeters above Bruno.
For a second, neither of us can breathe. Scratch that: it’s all we can do.
«Worst. Fucking. Plan.» I gasp and the robot repeats my words.
Bruno blinks like he’s just seen the sunshine. «Gina?»
«Who else, dude?»
He opens his mouth. Then closes it. Then opens it again. «What the hell, Gee?» he says, finally. «I thought you wouldn’t . . . you couldn’t . . .»
«Couldn’t what? Do my damn job?»
He spots the key that’s still sticking out of the robot’s shoulder. «Oh.»
«What the hell’s happening up there?» Stevenson calls up. Peanut is barking furiously.
«Who’s that?» Bruno says, twisting around in the muddy path.
«Evie Stevenson. You know, the person behind the hacks. She’s been stuck there for weeks and needed help to get out.»
«Oh. You figured it out without me,» Bruno says and damn it, he looks like an emo band member again.
«Don’t move, dude, or I swear to god I will crush you.»
I walk the robot over to the ledge, which is mostly tree-free now. Carefully, I guide an arm down. Peanut is the first to come up. Then Stevenson.
«It worked,» she says when she’s back on the path. Her eyes tear up. «This absurd plan actually worked. You’re hired, Gina.»
We both laugh, while Bruno looks confused.
«Can I give you a lift?» I ask. Stevenson picks up Peanut and nods.
The Commando scoops them up in one hand and my stubborn, well-meaning teammate in the other.
Bruno keeps insisting that he can walk back on his own, which is sort of hilarious because right now, he has more bruises than charm.
«Chill, bro. I got this.»
/> My mom is right, it’s important to ask for help when you needed it. But sometimes you have to make your own help too.
«Gina—» Bruno begins, but I cut off the audio input because I’m the girl behind the code and I can.
I check on them occasionally though. Bruno’s pouting on the left and Stevenson is smiling in the nook of the robot’s right elbow with her arms around Peanut, who is cautiously wagging his tail. They can’t see me, but I’m smiling back at them.
This is what freedom is, isn’t it?
Oh my god, I’m going to have so much fun programming these Commando units. I have so many ideas. Starting with creating the best routines possible and trying to fix that hole in the fence. And maybe next time Stevenson walks to the next town, I’ll walk with her, one way or another.
Hannu Rajaniemi was born in Finland. At the age of eight he approached the European Space Agency with a fusion-powered spaceship design, which was received with a polite “thank you” note. Hannu studied mathematics and theoretical physics at the University of Oulu and Cambridge and holds a PhD in string theory from the University of Edinburgh. He co-founded a mathematics consultancy whose clients included UK Ministry of Defence and the European Space Agency. Hannu is the author of four novels including The Quantum Thief (winner of 2012 Tàhtivaeltaja Award for the best science fiction novel published in Finland and translated into more than 20 languages). His most recent book is Summerland (June 2018), an alternate history spy thriller in a world where the afterlife is real. His other works include Invisible Planets: Collected Fiction, a short story collection. Hannu lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. He is a co-founder and CEO of HelixNano, a venture-and Y Combinator-backed biotech startup.
LIONS AND GAZELLES
Hannu Rajaniemi
Where do you think we are?” the young Middle Eastern woman with the intense eyes asked.
Jyri smiled at her and accepted a smoothie from a tanned aide.
“I think this is a Greek island.” He pointed at the desolate gray cliffs. They loomed above the ruined village where the 50 contestants in the Race were having breakfast. “Look at all the dead vegetation. And the sea is the right color.”
