‘The half fuse,’ said Gretel. ‘Maximum power and longevity backed up with just sufficient intelligence. Imagine the robot that would power! Strong, capable of following orders to the glory of Artemis . . .’
This was the mind that Nettie had begun to show them, realized Susan. But why would anyone want to make such a mind? What sort of society would this be? Strong, but nearly unthinking? What would be the point in it?
She couldn’t hold the thought, because another truth was forcing its way into her mind. First Axel and Karel, and now Nettie. Everyone she had loved had been taken from her. And she just sat here, in this room, accepting it.
She remembered a robot she had met, what seemed like a lifetime ago, back in Turing City. Maoco O, the City Guard. He had known of the Book of Robots, and had thought that Susan did too. He had asked Susan a question:
When the time came, would you be strong enough to twist a mind in the way you knew to be right?
He had been talking about the coming war, talking about Turing City’s defeat. It had been easy to be defiant when City Guards such as Maoco O still patrolled in their sleek, over-engineered bodies. But now she was here, alone, in the middle of the enemy city, she was confronted with the real answer.
No. When the time had come, she had sacrificed her principles in order to stay alive.
And so what? Was that anything to be ashamed of? Wouldn’t any other robot do the same in her position? A remnant of her old life as a statistician came to her aid. Yes, most other robots would. At least, all the ones who had lived to make new robots. So why did she feel so guilty, if that was the way that robots were made?
At the front of the room Gretel was talking about the half fuse, and Susan realized what she was doing. She was hiding from the new reality. Circumstances had changed. She was no longer the frightened, dented woman who had been led into this room those months back.
She was a mother of Artemis, she had something like respect in this city. She was free to come and go as she pleased, within reason. So what was keeping her here now?
Nothing. Nothing but fear and momentum.
Nettie was gone, reassigned. Reassigned where? To what purpose? Nettie wasn’t allowed to make children, was this the final reassignment?
And that wasn’t all.
Karel was out there somewhere. Her husband was alive, somewhere in Northern Shull. So she had been told, anyway. What would she tell him, if he ever found her? That she just sat here and waited for him? That the one friend she had here had vanished, and she had just let her go?
That decided her.
She was going to get out of here. If it was too big a step to leave the city for the moment, then at the very least she would find Nettie.
And then, if he hadn’t come to her by then, they would go look for Karel.
Karel
South of Blaize, the valleys were full of dead towns. Hollow shells of stone buildings, long stripped of any metal, shedding their flat slates across the grass-grown road.
‘What are they doing here?’ wondered Karel.
‘Perhaps they mined the surrounding hills to make robots, and the robots just walked away down the road, leaving these buildings behind them to rot.’
‘Could be,’ said Karel, looking down yet another narrow valley crowded with dead buildings. Grey slate held together with green moss, all crowded higgledy piggledy together.
‘They remind me of something . . .’ began Melt.
‘What?’ asked Karel.
‘ . . . nothing.’
‘Were you remembering something about your past?’
‘I remember lots of things. Morphobia Alligator told me this would happen. The metal of my mind is pushed together.’
‘I would have thought that would short it out,’ said Karel, suspiciously.
‘You would have to ask Morphobia Alligator about that,’ said Melt.
‘I’d like to ask Morphobia Alligator about a lot of things,’ snapped Karel, and he immediately felt bad about it. He had never seen a robot in such pain as Melt. He had tried to imagine himself trapped in the body, and had failed. He couldn’t have even stood up in it, he was sure.
Melt stumbled, a hiss of static pain briefly escaping from his voicebox.
‘Do you need a rest?’ Karel asked.
‘I’m fine.’
‘No, you’re not. You can’t go on much further.’ Karel scanned their surroundings. ‘That building over there looks like it used to be a forge. Come on. We can sit in there for a while. There may be some coal or metal remaining.’
‘The place will have been stripped centuries ago,’ said Melt. ‘You can feel the emptiness in this land. Let me keep on walking.’
Karel felt it too. There was nothing here but wind and grass and stone. The echoes of whatever life had once hammered metal here had long since faded. Then, up there, on the hillside, shaking green hands at the wind he saw . . .
‘Trees! They burn! I saw that in the Northern Kingdom. I could climb up there and cut some pieces from them. We could make a fire and dry our electromuscle at least. Heat some metal and bend it—’
‘It’s too wet,’ said Melt. ‘The wood will be too green.’
‘So you know something about trees?’ asked Karel, who knew nothing. There had been virtually no organic life back in Turing City.
‘I remember forests, and wood and carving,’ said Melt, gazing at the floor. Once more Karel had the impression he knew more than he was saying. It was as if the robot was deciding just what it would be safe to reveal. ‘But I don’t think it was me who did it. I remember that you need a sharp blade to cut into wood.’
‘Are there forests at the Top of the World?’
‘The Top of the World?’
‘You say that Morphobia Alligator brought you here, Melt. Do you think it was from the Top of the World?’ He gazed at the strange half-melted body of the other robot. Even before it had been damaged it would have been nothing like his own.
‘The Top of the World,’ repeated Melt. ‘I don’t know. I don’t remember.’
Liar, thought Karel, and then he immediately felt a surge of shameful panic as he watched Melt freeze in place. Slowly, the great lead and iron body toppled forward, landing on the ground with a crash that sent Karel’s own body rattling.
‘Melt!’ he called, ‘Melt! I’m sor—’ He stopped himself just in time. He was being ridiculous. Thinking that Melt was a liar hadn’t caused this failure. He knelt down and looked into the other robot’s eyes. They barely glowed, such was Melt’s exhaustion.
‘I’m okay,’ he said.
‘No you’re not!’ said Karel, and the sky unfolded a fall of rain that began to patter upon their metal shells.
‘Bullets,’ said Melt.
‘Rain,’ said Karel. ‘Just a shower. Come on, let’s get you into shelter.’
‘Soon pass,’ said Melt.
Karel took the robot by the shoulders and began to drag him awkwardly to the nearest building. He weighed so much! Melt said he had once been a soldier. What sort of a soldier would fight in a body like this?
Slowly, painfully, he dragged the other robot to shelter, metal grinding and scraping on the wet ground. Finally, he pulled him across the threshold and let him go.
Karel looked around the ancient room in which he found himself. Nothing but dry brick and stone and crumbling mortar. Green organic life grew around the cracks where water had made its way in. The place was long stripped of anything useful: he could feel the hollowness of his surroundings, empty of all metal.
‘Melt, I’m going out to look around. There must be some dry wood or something somewhere.’
Melt gave the faintest hiss of static in reply.
Karel re-emerged into the long grey street, huddled under the dull green hill beneath a wretched grey sky. The rain plinked on his shell, and he felt utterly miserable. A noise, the sound of shifting stone. He turned, but there was no one there.
Something had changed. Karel scanned the blank face
s of the old buildings. Something was out there, he could feel it. A flicker of movement to his right and he swung round. Nothing.
‘Hello?’ he said, his voice lost in the pattering rain. ‘Morphobia Alligator?’
He sensed something behind him.
He turned around and saw two robots walking towards him, their hands raised in greeting. His feeling of pleasure at the sight of help quickly turned to disgust as he saw the state of the robots that approached.
Their bodies were dented and in poor repair, the squeaking and grinding noises they made as they walked showed what little care they took of themselves.
Worst of all though, and the sight of it filled him with utter revulsion, they were covered in rust.
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do looked around the Emperor’s Palace in deepening awe, trying to put his emotions into order, trying to make sense of the odd trepidation that he felt. It wasn’t the sight of the high, polished ceilings of brass and titanium; it wasn’t the paper scrolls that hung down over the brushed aluminium walls, a few strokes of paint evincing autumnal scenes, a bough of cherry blossom or elegant robots from times past dressed in copper bodies. It wasn’t even the sound of the robot gamelan that played in the corner of the room, and this was unusual, for Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, warrior and poet, understood the music of the metallophone and the gong, and those instruments cast in Sangrel were famous throughout Yukawa for their clarity and tone.
No, what truly moved him to silent wonder was the sight of the animals that moved through the building. Humans everywhere, their soft brown and pink and muddy-yellow bodies covered in bright fabrics. That the Emperor should give this place up to the animals was hard enough to believe, that they could accept this gift seemingly without understanding its significance was beyond comprehension. Yet it was so, for the animals had pushed aside the busts and vases and screens of the palace, with no regard for the harmony of the place. And then, insult upon insult, they had brought in their own furniture. Plastic chairs; long tables covered in cloth; ugly white lights. Everything they used had function but little form. Their artefacts were plain and ugly, an insult to the Emperor. And everywhere they had draped the long black wires that snaked through the rooms and corridors, singing with the strange electricity that the humans used. Rectangular screens hung on walls, flickering with pictures of other places, they made Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s head buzz if he looked too closely.
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do and Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah entered the Great Hall together. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s scarlet body was polished beyond its usual shine, it seemed to glow with a deep red light this evening. The ceremonial blades at his hands and feet sharpened to a razor’s edge. His electromuscles were freshly straightened and his joints lubricated with fine oil. He looked just how the commander of Sangrel should look. Or so he had believed, until he saw Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah. He had forgotten that fashion of the nobility: to wear another body to events such as this. Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah’s dress body was built in the imperial style, a stylized representation of a warrior, a sweeping arrangement of fins and blades, of quicksilver motion captured halfway through an attack. Impressive to look at, but so thin and fragile, it would crumple almost at a touch. Of course, that wasn’t the point. The nobility could afford to wear bodies such as this, protected as they were by their position. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do knew that some of the animals in the room would mistake Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah for the commander of Sangrel. He didn’t mind. The robots were here to put on a show. Tonight, Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah at least, outshone the humans.
The humans wore virtually no metal. They covered themselves either in plain black fabric or exotically coloured silks. It took Wa-Ka-Mo-Do a few moments to realize there was a system to their dress. He had seen quite a few of the humans by now: he was at the stage where he could distinguish the sexes without having to look for the two swellings on the chest that signified a female (so gauche). Now he realized that the men all wore black cloth. They were the ones who most resembled robots, if black fabric tubing pulled up around the arms and legs could ever be said to resemble panelling. But as for the women, they looked like no robots Wa-Ka-Mo-Do had ever seen before. They wore long flowing envelopes of silk that seemed to start just above their chests, to hug their strange bodies down past the waist and hips and then to flare out to touch the floor. They gave the females the strange appearance of not having any legs, so that they seemed to move across the floor as if they were on wheels.
Ah, but Wa-Ka-Mo-Do was mistaken. Not all the females were dressed in that fashion. Those soldiers who stood around the walls were dressed in the same grey and green uniforms regardless of their sex. Yet these soldiers were not like his own Copper Guard. They didn’t seem to maintain the motionless stance his own Guard would have done were they here and not marking their time in Smithy Square. These humans turned this way and that, they nodded and chatted to each other. That wasn’t to say they weren’t well trained. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do could tell by the way they were always scanning the crowd, despite their easy posture. And yet they seemed to regard the people at the party with something like amused derision, not like their superiors whom it was their honour to guard.
Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah appeared at his side.
‘Mr Ambassador, may I present Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, commander of the Emperor’s Army of Sangrel.’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do found himself face to face with a human a little taller than he was. The animal’s skin was a shiny black colour that reminded Wa-Ka-Mo-Do of anthracite. His hair was grey, his eyes a deep brown. He reached out one shiny black hand and Wa-Ka-Mo-Do stared at it.
‘The Ambassador wishes to shake your hand,’ murmured Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do remembered his instructions, and reached out and took the anthracite hand in his, looking at the pail pink tips at the end of the fingers. The hand was warm and soft. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do moved it up and down.
‘And how do you like our city, Mr Ambassador?’
‘I find it both spectacular and beautiful, Commander. It is a wonderful testament to the culture of the Yukawan robots. The sense of history and tradition is written in the very stones themselves.’
‘Thank you.’
‘But I understand that this is not your own city, Commander? I have been told that you represent a very, ah, different culture?’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do felt a skitter of current up and down his hand. How on Penrose would the Ambassador know this? Was this La-Ver-Di-Arussah’s doing?
‘I represent the Emperor, Mr Ambassador,’ replied Wa-Ka-Mo-Do carefully. ‘However it is true that I come from another province, some distance from here. You may have seen its mountains from your ship?’
‘How fascinating. You must tell me about it sometime. Now, forgive me, I must circulate.’
And at that the Ambassador shook his hand once more and headed off around the room.
‘What just happened there, Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah? I feel as if I’ve just been dismissed. Doesn’t he realize who I am?’
‘I fear he realizes all too well, Honoured Commander. I don’t think it would serve either of you to engage in anything but small talk. Do you really wish to mention what happened this morning in number three mine?’
‘I don’t know! What happened in number three mine?’
‘You mean you haven’t been told?’
‘Obviously not.’ Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s voice was cold with fury. Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah looked at the floor, embarrassed.
‘The robots refused to work, Honoured Commander. They said that they would only follow the commands of the Emperor’s robots, not animals.’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do held his face immobile.
‘And what did the humans do?’
‘Nothing, Honoured Commander. They chose to pretend they could not understand what was going on.’
‘Is the matter resolved?’
‘Of course. La-Ver-Di-Arussah led a detachment of the Copper Guard there and killed one in ten of them. Half of them children, as is customary.’
‘What!’
‘Children cannot work as efficiently, Honoured Commander. Plus t
he effect on the parents is remarkable. It is the logical thing to do for so many reasons.’
‘You know that’s not what I mean! How dare you take such action without my permission?’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do realized that he had spoken too loudly. Animals and robots were looking in his direction. At that moment he saw La-Ver-Di-Arussah, standing with three humans, resplendent in a body of gold foil. She was staring towards Wa-Ka-Mo-Do with a look of amused condescension.
‘Bring her here, Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. ‘At once!’
La-Ver-Di-Arussah strode up, the gold of her body swaying in the wind. Long sheets had been stretched out and soldered back on themselves, giving her a flouncy, puffed up appearance that reflected the dress of the human women.
‘Honoured Commander,’ she said. ‘I hardly think this is the place—’
‘Silence, La-Ver-Di-Arussah. I’ve just heard about number three mine! How dare you take such action without my permission?’
‘Honoured Commander, it is neither custom or practice that you are informed of every action that takes place within the city. I acted according to precedent.’ She moved, and Wa-Ka-Mo-Do heard the sweet singing of current perfectly tuned in to her golden body. He was more than aware of the deadly force that lurked beneath that fair construction. ‘However,’ she continued. ‘In future I will inform you of all activities, if that is your wish?’
‘Don’t try that dumb insolence with me, La-Ver-Di-Arussah. We are not playing court games here. My orders are clear. Punitive actions on civilians will only take place with my express permission. Do you understand me?’
‘Of course I do, Honoured Commander,’ La-Ver-Di-Arussah smiled sweetly. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I left our guests rather suddenly. I fear I am being rather rude . . .
At that she turned and made her way back to the waiting humans.
It was all Wa-Ka-Mo-Do could do to remain still. The urge to kick her to the ground was surging through every electromuscle in his body.
Karel
Sometimes Karel felt as if he lived in a ghost story of the north. He stood in an empty town under a grey sky, watching two robots that had succumbed to rust walking towards him through the rain. He felt nothing but disgust at their state. Good metal left to flake away, joints squealing for lack of oil, sluggish current dulled by dirty contacts . . . How could a robot have so little self-respect?
Blood and Iron Page 15
