Ensemble

by D. B. Goodin

  “Hold on, miss. We need to see some identification,” a voice said.

  Alice turned around to see the tallest and widest guard she’d ever seen; she showed the guard her badge. The guard grabbed it from her and waved it at a card reader.

  “I’m here to check on some magnetic resonance on the roof and need to ground that sucker. Don’t want any of the performers getting electrocuted,” Alice said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  The guard said nothing; he kept trying the badge. “Hey, Mitch, this thing is having trouble again,” the burly guard said to his partner.

  “Come on, Ralph, how many times do I have to show you? Let me see it,” the shorter guard said.

  Ralph used the same reader as the other guard, but his scan worked.

  “Thank you, Janet Voss, and sorry for the hold up. My name is Mitch if you want to have a drink with me later.”

  Alice looked at the man; his face was as white as ivory. He had a pencil-thin mustache and thin eyebrows that looked as if they were painted on.

  “Hey, how does your kind mingle with the ladies, anyway?” Ralph asked Mitch.

  This guard is a robot?

  “I have my ways . . . especially with the ladies,” Mitch said, laughing.

  Alice started walking away without a reply. She didn’t want to get stopped again.

  “Hey, miss! Er . . . Janet, you forgot something,” Mitch said.

  Alice turned around, and Mitch was holding her backpack.

  “Oh, I would be lost without that,” Alice said in the most jovial tone she could muster.

  Mitch brushed her hand with his as he handed her the bag. His touch was icy. “Hey, let’s get that drink real soon now.”

  He’s a robot—I’m sure of it now.

  Alice thanked the guard, then moved toward the back entrance of the MuseFam Hall at a brisk walking pace. She could still hear the guards laughing as she left.

  Moments later, she noticed a ladder leading up to the roof. The ladder was secured by a metal door that covered the first ten feet. She noticed a pad with a green light next to the ladder. She used the keycard Scotty left for her in the backpack and the door popped open. After ascending about twenty feet, she climbed over a wall that led to the first section of the maintenance terrace. She could see the golden dome that covered MuseFam Hall.

  City Wide Concert, MuseFam Hall

  July 4th, 1:51 p.m.

  Standing on a terrace on MuseFam Hall overlooking Central Park, Alice felt a warm summer breeze; she always loved summers in the park. When she was a girl, her father would take her to the zoo. She also liked to sail boats at the small man-made lake in the park.

  Alice looked below.

  I must be at least sixty feet up, and I’m still not at the dome. The terraces got smaller and narrower as she ascended. She climbed another ladder leading up to a narrow platform. Once there, Alice looked around the small ledge; she estimated it was three feet by four. She was sweating. She had put the workman’s uniform on over her clothes.

  Must be at least a hundred degrees today.

  She shed the workman’s uniform, which seemed to stick to her sweaty flesh like a stubborn orange peel.

  She looked up. Only halfway?

  After making sure that the small toolkit and replacement module for the E-Bomb was secure in her backpack, she ascended the next ladder to another landing. This one had several electrical panels, and another small ladder leading up to the next level.

  She heard the sounds of music emanating from the music hall below; at least the robots were playing some decent classical music. “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” by Felix Mendelssohn: she always loved that tune. Then the sound changed with an abrupt synthetic beat in time with the shifting classical music. “The Radetzky March” by Johann Strauss began to ascend through the structure like a tuning fork; its power reverberated through her.

  What the hell is going on here? This classical music mix sucks—they are not pausing between songs, either. The robots are ruining the classics!

  She started climbing the next ladder.

  “Alice, sorry to interrupt, but you have a call from Scotty,” Doris said.

  “Accept!” Alice said.

  “What’s your status?” Scotty asked.

  “Not much, trying to scale this dammed building.”

  “You better hurry. The final robots are assembling, which represents the entirety of Brenton’s musical robot army. This is the moment!” Scotty said excitedly.

  Alice could picture the man jumping up and down despite his injuries.

  Alice recognized two more classics that were being butchered by the robots: Wiegenlied Op. 49 by Johannes Brahms and “Arrival of the Queen of Sheba” by George Frideric Handel.

  Alice Parsons then found herself near the top of MuseFam hall, where a golden dome loomed overhead. It wouldn’t be long until she was at the E-Bomb.

  What a long and strange journey these past few weeks have been.

  “Pictures at an Exhibition” by Modest Mussorgsky played—it was one of her favorites. Suddenly, the volume of the music raised to unsafe levels; Alice’s decibel meter app on her watch alerted her. Doris was saying something, but she couldn’t hear what. She glanced at her smart wristband: 96 decibels.

  Wow, I’m going to be deaf after this. I can only imagine how much pain the people inside the hall are experiencing.

  Then the next tunes—"In the Hall of the Mountain King” by Grieg, along with some synthetic garbage that some AIs had cooked up—blasted. The increased volume and the intensity of the musical pieces made it hard to concentrate. She wanted to put her hands over her ears, but that was impossible, since she was nearly at the top.

  After a few minutes, the music changed to something lighter: Caprice no 24 by Niccolò Paganini. The song, which mostly consisted of violins, was soon accompanied by louder drums and synthetic beats. It sounded like a dance beat that a DJ would play—not a classical masterpiece.

  One way or another, I’m going to kill these robots!

  That was the motivation Alice needed as she scaled the final rungs of the ladder. She was nearly at the top when she encountered a metal panel covering the final dozen or so rungs. An electronic padlock secured the panel to the ladder; instead of a mechanical lock, it was a small number pad with four buttons.

  “I have a problem, Scotty,” Alice yelled over the music.

  “What sort of problem? We’re cutting this close as it is.”

  “The top part of the ladder is blocked—I can’t get past it.”

  “Oh, I see what you mean,” Scott said.

  “How? You’re not here.”

  “Your AI just sent me some pictures.”

  “Oh, that’s . . . cool. Thanks, Doris,” Alice said.

  “My only purpose is to serve,” Doris said.

  “Not sure if you noticed, but there is a small ledge to your right side. That is how the maintenance workers unlock the ladder,” Scotty said.

  Alice looked to her right; a small metal platform about the size of a large moving box was visible just above her. A small gate surrounded the ledge.

  How do these maintenance guys reach that?

  She tried reaching for the ledge but could not grasp it. Alice surveyed her immediate surroundings. A metal trellis was within her reach, but she would have to jump two feet to reach it. Alice jumped from the ladder and grabbed the trellis. She landed, but grasped something wet, and slipped. She hung from the trellis with her left hand, while a sticky residue covered her right hand. She tried to fling the substance from her hand, but was unsuccessful. The motion caused her grip on the trellis to slip.

  Holy shit, I’m going to die!

  Alice used her shorts to wipe the sticky stuff from her hand, then grabbed the trellis with both hands. She tried to pull herself up, but her arms were turning into rubber.

  She pulled until both of her arms felt like they were on fire. She pulled herself up enough to see the top of the trellis. She flung herself ove
r it, feeling like bait dangling on a fishhook. She rested for a moment. From the trellis, she could see a metal panel a few feet away. She would need to jump once more to get to it. Alice braced herself for another jump, then stopped as the sky and ceiling seemed to close in on her. It was like she was in a deflating beach ball that someone was squeezing. She grabbed hold of the trellis. She continued to breathe in and out until she felt normal again. She overcompensated when making the next jump and almost flew off the platform, but she managed to steady herself.

  “Dammit, nothing is ever easy!” Alice yelled.

  She jumped just as the music changed. “Ride of the Valkyries” by Wagner played along with some techno beat. She maneuvered herself to a small platform which was blocked by another ladder covered in wire mesh material and secured with a massive padlock.

  “I’m on the ledge—now how in the hell do I open this lock?”

  “Try to get a better picture of it, from your new vantage point.”

  Alice reached for the lock; she froze in several positions as Doris took and transmitted the photos to Scotty. “I sent you a better shot of the padlock—now what?”

  Alice could hear part of a conversation in the background. Then Scotty said, “My friend will step you through part of the hack.”

  “Okay, put him on.”

  “Hello, Alice, it’s me, Simon!”

  “What is it? I’m a little busy right now.”

  “I hope you know that I just wanted to help—” Simon was trying to say.

  “Just tell her how to hack the bloody thing, kid,” Scotty said.

  “I know you’re upset right now, but I need you to listen carefully,” Simon urged.

  “Fine, tell me,” Alice said.

  “There should be four identical square buttons on the lock, yes? You need to give me any feedback it displays,” Simon said.

  “Okay, how do I start?”

  “Hold the lock with the shackle on the left side with one hand, and press the first two buttons at the same time.”

  A series of glowing colored numbers appeared for a moment, then went blank. A yellow light blinked briefly on the first square button.

  “The first digit of the lock flickered yellow, but it’s dark now,” Alice reported.

  “Okay, press that button once.”

  Alice did as she was told. This time, two buttons flashed at the same time: the first and third buttons. The first was yellow, and the third was red.

  “Simon, look at the bloody screen,” Scotty said. “You can see what she sees now. Her visor is streaming to us. Just tell her which button to press.”

  The music changed below. The robotic orchestra was playing “O Fortuna” by Carl Orff. The sound was eerie, since the robots were chanting to the music. The voices didn’t sound totally human or robotic, but a combination of the two. It was just—wrong and impure. The resulting sound gave Alice chills.

  Concentrate!

  Simon stepped Alice through a complex series of steps that involved a series of yellow, red, green, and blue color combinations. After trying a dozen combinations, the lock snapped. It was open! “O Fortuna” stopped when the lock opened; it was like Alice was controlling it through her actions of hacking the lock.

  “Yes!” Alice screamed.

  Alice opened the ladder and ascended to the final platform where the E-Bomb had been stashed. The golden dome was just in front of her, and it was bright. The shining sun made it hard to look at in any direct manner.

  “I’m on the platform at the base of the dome—where is the E-Bomb? What does it look like?”

  “It is below the dome shelf, just under a spire. It looks like a box. It should be directly in front of you. Remove the outer cover to expose the module.”

  “Got it!” Alice said as she ran over to the spire.

  Alice looked under the shelf and saw a large metal box about the size of a small suitcase. Using both hands, she shook the cover until she managed to get it loose; a bunch of wiring sprung out of the enclosure. Alice carefully moved the cover away until the complicated circuit board was visible. She stared at the device for several seconds.

  She was about to ask Scotty what to do next when a blast of rock and roll music ruined her train of thought. Then she heard a set of synthetic-sounding lyrics she didn’t recognize; it sounded like “oooh” and “ahhh” to her ears.

  “I can’t hear you over this synthetic garbage,” Alice yelled into her visor.

  The words “I got this” and “Follow the prompts” appeared on her visor.

  Good thinking, Doris.

  A red arrow appeared on her HUD, pointing to an area of the circuit.

  “Is this where the module needs to be placed?” she asked. The intensity of the music increased; the beat changed to some dance beat she recognized from the early 2000s, but it had an awful robotic twist. Doris displayed a series of text prompts which read:

  * * *

  Be careful replacing the module. You need to pull the slotted wiring harness with one steady motion. If you wriggle it or squeeze too hard, the E-Bomb could be damaged.

  I have faith in you!

  * * *

  Great—that makes one of us, Alice thought.

  Alice grabbed the harness and pulled. The music stopped.

  “What just happened? Did I break it?” Alice gasped.

  “The E-Bomb did not go off, if that is what you are referring to,” Doris said.

  “Grace just texted, the band is setting up for the show’s finale,” Scotty said.

  Alice replaced the module as best as she could, plugged it back in, and hoped for the best.

  “You did it—the E-Bomb is online,” Scotty said. “I need to readjust the timer so that it captures all the robots in the area. You have less than five minutes to get out of there with your AI intact.”

  “What happens if I’m in range of the E-Bomb?” Alice asked while heading toward the ladder.

  “If you’re too close, you could experience an electrostatic discharge.”

  “Is it fatal?” Alice asked.

  “Not unless you have heart problems. It’s like a static charge when you touch metal after rubbing your socks on carpet.”

  “Okay.”

  “They are starting up again, Grace just texted,” Scotty said.

  Alice heard a loud blast of synthetic music, which sounded to her like someone was pounding some synthesized drums, followed by some other strange sounds. She could hear lyrics being sung by a female voice; it sounded like she was screaming something about love and revenge. Alice recognized the voice.

  Ms. Augustine! I guess she survived, Alice thought.

  Alice began her descent.

  As she climbed down the ladder, she heard—no, felt—the most unusual sensation. It was like she was feeling her headache through another person. She felt dizzy.

  Strange! What is that? Why is everything so blurry?

  Then Alice passed out—and fell.

  Stewie Hawk, Mark Olaf’s investigator opened the top of the metal box that he had stowed away in. He had almost gotten caught when the girl had commandeered the golf cart he had tracked her to.

  Stewie Hawk rubbed his legs until he could move. “Being cramped in a box is not good for anyone’s health,” Stewie said, stamping his feet to get the blood circulating.

  Stewie called Mark Olaf.

  “Boss, I’ve tracked the girl as you asked.”

  “Where is she?” Mark Olaf demanded.

  Stewie Hawk looked around. “I . . . don’t know, Central Park maybe?”

  “Look around, tell me what you see.”

  Stewie walked through a gate, and saw a gigantic building with a golden dome on top. He relayed the information to Mark Olaf.

  “MuseFam Hall—I knew she was up to something,” Mark said.

  “The girl, I—I’ll call back,” Stewie said as he dove into a large grouping of bushes; Alice was approaching his location.

  Stewie watched as Alice entered a service area
next to MuseFam Hall.

  Did she talk her way past the guards?

  Stewie opened his rucksack. He wanted to be prepared for evasive maneuvers if it came to that. He grabbed his small hand-held stun gun, checked the charge level, and then put it in his coat pocket. Stewie left the rucksack underneath a low bush.

  Cleaver girl—I need to see what she’s up to.

  He approached the guards head-on, not wanting to waste any more time sneaking around.

  “Stop identification, please,” the guard said.

  Stewie had to crane his head to see the burly guard’s face.

  Another shorter guard stood close by; his uniform was pressed and had no wrinkles. It looked perfect. His face seemed like it was painted. Stewie thought of a porcelain doll.

  Is he a bot? If he is, then my little friend will give him a short circuit he won’t forget. Stewie smiled.

  “What’s so funny?” the burly guard asked.

  “You are!” Stewie said.

  He pulled the stun gun and jammed the trigger; it didn’t work. He looked at it for a moment. The safety!

  The guards both laughed and pointed at Stewie like he was a sideshow attraction in a freak show.

  He smashed the lever that he hoped controlled the safety and pulled. Two electrodes shot toward the guards. The man with the porcelain face made some fast hand gestures. A shield wrapped around him. The other guard wasn’t as fast—or lucky; he started convulsing so much that he hit the ground shaking. The other guard drew his weapon. Stewie had no idea if it was loaded, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He screamed, then charged the guard, who froze in place. As soon as Stewie hit the guard’s force field, both he and the guard were knocked back. Stewie got up as fast as he could, then made his way over to the guard with the force field; he was out cold. The force field must have been damaged, because Stewie was able to snatch the guard’s weapon. It was a standard security guard laser stun pistol. It was not standard law-enforcement issue, but a lessor, less lethal version.

  Stewie looked around for any witnesses. Since they were in the back of the venue, they were not in public view. Stewie could hear Johannes Brahms as he hid the bodies.