Revolution 19

by Gregg Rosenblum

  The bot was strong, but surprisingly, not stronger than Nick, who managed to keep it pinned down. He could feel that the back of the Lecturer’s head had dented, but each slam of the bot’s head against the ground now hit with a clang and a shock in Nick’s forearms—he had compressed the bot’s soft outer skull to its metal skeleton, and he didn’t think he was doing any more damage. He jammed his thumbs into the bot’s eyes—if he couldn’t kill it, he could at least blind it. He felt resistance, and he grunted and pushed harder, and then the lenses popped with a crack and shards of glass and metal sliced into his thumbs.

  Nick moved his hands back to the bot’s neck. The bot’s face was now streaked with Nick’s blood. It looked like it was weeping bloody tears.

  “HALT!” said another robotic voice, from over his shoulder, and then a human voice yelled, “Watch out!” Two bodies tumbled over his back, almost knocking him off his Lecturer. Nick glanced over. One of the other prisoners was on the ground grappling with the other Lecturer—the one from the exit gate, Nick realized. The sphere bot bobbed and weaved wildly in the air, flashing red. “HALT!” repeated the sphere bot. “CEASE YOUR RESISTANCE! YOU WILL BE SUBDUED AND SEVERELY PUNISHED! HALT NOW!” The man and the other Lecturer struggled, the man grunting with effort, the Lecturer silent. The bot quickly managed to free its right arm and touched the man’s shoulder. There was a crackle and he went stiff, then began having a seizure and fell off the Lecturer. The Lecturer calmly stood, ignoring his opponent now writhing on the ground.

  It was over now, Nick knew. He had no way of holding off two Lecturers; the bot just needed to take a few steps and reach out and shock him. And then they could take their time punishing him. Or killing him. Still he kept slamming his bot’s head ineffectually against the ground and kept his tiring legs wedged tightly down against the bot’s arms. If he had just a few seconds to live, he was damned well going to try and take a bot with him.

  The second Lecturer took a step toward him, and Nick closed his eyes, kept pounding his bot against the ground, bracing for the electric agony, and then he heard two, three more human yells. He opened his eyes. Three other prisoners, two middle-aged men and a woman, were grappling with the Lecturer. They had it back on the ground, its limbs pinned. They weren’t doing any damage to it, but for the moment at least, they had it subdued. The sphere bot continued to bob and weave, not joining the fight, but flashing red and booming “CEASE YOUR RESISTANCE!” over and over.

  The woman met Nick’s eyes. “Go!” she said, her face wild. “Get out of here before more bots come!”

  She was right: Just a few steps and Nick could be out the gate. With a grunt of effort he stood, hauling his bot up by the neck, then smashing its head against the sharp edge of the picnic table. It was a stupid move—he was letting the bot’s arms free, and he’d probably get shocked. But he felt the bot’s metal interior skull give way, and its limbs jerked twice then went limp.

  “Cease your resistance,” said the Lecturer. “It is not too late to learn.”

  With a growl of rage, Nick yanked the bot’s head off the table and gathered himself to smash it into the corner again, to finally finish the damned thing.

  “Please,” said the bot, and something in the bot’s tone made Nick pause. It suddenly sounded human. “Please,” the bot repeated, “do not …”

  Nick stared down at the bot’s face, frozen, his hands still around its neck. His rage leaked out of him, and he felt like he was going to throw up. He heard a scream and looked over to the other struggle—the woman was now down, spasming; the bot must have shocked her—and as he watched, the Lecturer managed to get a hand on one of the two men, letting loose a crackle and sending him to the ground as well. The remaining man managed to get control of the bot’s arms, but it was obvious he wouldn’t last long.

  “Goddammit!” he said, panting with effort. “Get the hell out of here, kid! Now!”

  Nick stood, looking down at the struggling man and Lecturer, then at his own crippled, blinded bot lying in a heap on the ground. He heard a rumbling from inside the hallway. Peteys.

  “Go. Now!” grunted the man.

  “Thank you,” whispered Nick. He turned and raced out the gate, every moment expecting a lase in his back, running down the street as fast as his battered body would take him.

  CHAPTER 29

  AFTER AN HOUR OF TINKERING, KEVIN AND FARRYN FINALLY MANAGED to overload the scoot’s power supply. They had started a small fire in the garage, which they quickly extinguished, but not before Kevin had singed his face yet again. Still, he wasn’t ready to give up.

  Back in the living room, he held a wet washcloth on his face to cool the burn, which luckily was minor. “Next up, a bot,” he said.

  As Cass began to protest, they heard a quiet knock on the back door. “Did you hear that?” he said.

  The knocking came again, a bit louder this time.

  “Are you expecting anyone?” said Cass to Farryn.

  Farryn shook his head.

  Nobody spoke. The knock came yet again. “Well, bots wouldn’t knock,” said Lexi. “Cass and Kevin, we should stay in the kitchen. Farryn, see who it is. But don’t let them in.”

  Cass, Kevin, and Lexi retreated to the kitchen, opaqued the windows, and waited. Kevin strained to listen for any clues. Would Farryn’s dad finally catch them? And then, what would he do? Trade them into the bots?

  After a few moments he heard the garage door shut, and then Farryn came into the kitchen, closing the door quickly behind him.

  “There’s someone in the living room here to see you,” said Farryn.

  “What are you talking about?” whispered Kevin.

  Farryn smiled—a real smile, not his usual teasing grin—and swung the kitchen door open.

  Nick stood in the living room, leaning against the wall.

  “Nick!” screamed Cass. She ran to hug him. Kevin was too surprised to move. Lexi took two quick steps toward Nick, like she wanted to launch herself at him, too, but then stopped. Nick put his hands up and said, “Wait …” but Cass slammed into him and gave him a hard hug. Nick let out a loud groan of pain, and Cass quickly let go. “I’m sorry!” she said. “Are you okay?”

  Nick leaned against the wall, cradling his rib. “Bad rib,” he said quietly, gasping for breath. He looked bad, hunched into the pain in his side, his gray jumpsuit streaked with dried blood, the arms in tatters where he had ripped strips of cloth to wrap sloppily around his hands as bandages. His hair had been chopped down to a buzz cut.

  “What happened to you?” said Cass. She touched Nick’s face. “How bad are you hurt? Did you go to re-education? And they let you out already? Did you find Mom and Dad? How’d you get here?”

  Kevin took a step toward his brother, and Nick looked at him, and Kevin stopped in his tracks. “Your eye,” he said. “Your bad eye … it’s …”

  Nick snapped his head away. “They fixed it,” he said. “Gave me a damned bot eye.”

  “Really?” said Kevin. He couldn’t help but be intrigued. “It works? You can see? How did they put it in?”

  “Slow down,” said Nick, straightening up from the wall. “One question at a time.”

  Kevin’s initial shock had given way to a strong wave of anger. He flashed back to that night, the dark street, Cass whimpering as the Peteys flung Nick’s body over their shoulders. Sitting in the alley, not knowing what Nick had done or what would happen next. “What the hell were you thinking, just leaving us like that?” he said. He still stood at the kitchen entrance. “I mean, you don’t even tell us what you’re planning, you just run out onto the street and give yourself up!” He paused, and the room was quiet, and then he added, “We were supposed to stay together, not abandon one another.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Nick, walking over painfully to Kevin. “I should have told you. But you guys would have just fought me about it.”

  “Because it was a stupid idea!” said Kevin.

  Nick sighed. “Yeah, maybe,” he sa
id. “Probably. It’s good to see you, though.” He gave Kevin a hug. Kevin stood stiffly, his arms at his sides, then felt himself giving in. Nick was safe, after all. He was alive, and that was all that mattered. Kevin returned the hug. “You’re an idiot,” he said.

  “Yeah, I know,” said Nick.

  “So Nick,” said Lexi, “you did get into re-education? And you’re out already?”

  Nick sat down slowly and carefully onto the couch, nursing his side. “Yeah, I got in. And no, they didn’t let me out. I broke out.”

  Farryn whistled appreciatively. “Amazing,” he said. “No alert over the comms, though. That’s surprising.”

  “Maybe the bots don’t want to admit that Revolution 19 freemen are still running around loose in their City,” said Cass.

  “You broke out?” said Lexi. “And made it across town again?” She smiled. “Now you’re just trying to impress me.”

  “The other prisoners helped me escape. They’re all probably dead now, because they helped me.”

  There was a silence, and then Kevin, barely able to get the words out, said, “Mom and Dad?”

  “Alive. Out of re-education.” Nick sighed, and looked down at his hands. “I stared right at them. Right into Mom’s eyes, and Dad saw me, too. They didn’t recognize me. The re-education … it’s … it’s hard.... The bots got to their heads. They would have gotten to me, too, if I had stayed much longer.”

  “What do you mean, they didn’t recognize you?” said Kevin. “They must not have gotten a good look.”

  “Mom was ten feet away, Kevin,” said Nick. “She looked at me like I was a stranger.”

  “She’s alive,” said Farryn loudly, startling everyone. He lowered his voice, looking embarrassed. “That’s something. Be thankful she’s alive.”

  Lexi put her hand on Nick’s arm. “It’ll go away, the amnesia. It happens. People’s minds get lost during re-education, but then they come back to themselves.”

  “Always?” said Kevin. “Do they always come back?” The question hung in the air. He already knew the answer.

  Lexi didn’t respond. She kept her hand on Nick’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up. Farryn, your father still gone for a while?”

  Farryn, who had been staring at the couch, started and took a moment to focus. He crossed the room and picked up his “old man tracker” from a bookshelf. “We’re good,” he said.

  Lexi led Nick into the kitchen. She began unwrapping the bandage on his right hand, and Cass carefully unwrapped the bandage on his left thumb. Kevin watched quietly, then poured a glass of water and set it in front of Nick. “You must be thirsty,” he said.

  “Farryn,” said Cass, looking at Nick’s thumbs, “do you have any fresh bandages? And some antiseptic, maybe?”

  “Oil from an English lavender plant has antiseptic properties,” said Kevin, mimicking his mother’s lecturing tone.

  Nick gave a small laugh. “Chamomile and nasturtium,” he added.

  “Wild indigo,” said Cass. “Don’t forget wild indigo.”

  Farryn shook his head. “How about a tube of antiseptic from the medicine cabinet?”

  “Yeah, I suppose that’ll work, too,” said Nick. He chuckled, then sucked in his breath sharply as Lexi began cleaning his thumbs with a wet washcloth.

  “What the hell happened to you?” she said. “Not just the eye … everything.”

  Nick described everything, starting with the first time he woke up in his cell—the lectures, the injections, the vid screen movies, the frozen features of the Lecturers and their crippling shocks, the Senior Advisor who seemed almost human, yet horribly not. Tom’s execution, and his cryptic last words. And finally, how the bot had begged to not be destroyed. As if it were alive. And wanted to live.

  Farryn came into the kitchen with antiseptic and bandages, sat and listened for a few moments, then abruptly stood and left the room. Lexi applied the ointment and began bandaging Nick’s thumbs.

  Kevin couldn’t stop thinking about Tom, his teacher, his friend, the coolest grown-up he had ever known, strapped down to that table and knowing he was going to die. How would he, Kevin, handle it if he were helpless and about to be killed by the bots? “He was brave, it sounds like,” Kevin said. “Tom, I mean.”

  “Amazing,” said Nick, nodding at Kevin, who suddenly had to blink back tears. “He died a hero.”

  Farryn came back into the room and leaned against the counter near the sink. Nick sipped at his water, holding it awkwardly in his bandaged hands, which shook a bit.

  “You need some rest, Nick,” said Kevin. “Let’s get back to Lexi’s house.”

  “No,” said Nick. “I’m even more radioactive than I was before. I broke out of re-education. I need to stay away from you and Cass and Lexi’s family. They know about you and Cass. The bots. They must not know where you are, but they’re looking for you. I’m not going to make it easier for them by leading them right to you.”

  “They found us once already—we went to school, but—” Cass began.

  Kevin cut her off, standing up from the table. “What, so you’re leaving us again?!”

  “No! I’m just keeping my distance so if I get caught the bots won’t kill you and Cass and Lexi and her parents!”

  “You’ll stay inside,” said Lexi. “Nobody will see you. It’ll be safe.”

  “No,” said Nick. “Not happening. I’ll find somewhere to stay. ”

  Cass shook her head. “What are you going to do, pitch a tent in an alley? Hide out in the woods again? Just come back to Lexi’s house for the night.”

  “I can’t do that,” said Nick.

  “Okay, okay, what about Doc?” said Lexi. She looked at Farryn. “What do you think?”

  Farryn shrugged. “It’s a lot to ask.”

  “He’s already involved,” said Lexi. “He has to help. There’s nowhere else for Nick to go.”

  CHAPTER 30

  DOC’S APARTMENT WAS SMALL, A ONE-BEDROOM WITH LOW CEILINGS. IT was clean, though, and the furniture and decoration was minimal, which made the space seem a bit larger. “Sit,” he said, gesturing at the two chairs in the living room. Cass and Nick sat down.

  “Who is this one?” He pointed at Nick.

  “Nick. Cass and Kevin’s brother,” said Farryn.

  Doc set his coffee down on a small table in the corner and knelt down next to Nick. “Hands,” he said. “Let me see them.” Nick held his hands out, and Doc unwrapped the bandages. “Lacerations on both thumbs. Jagged but cleaned well enough.” He turned Nick’s hands over. “Contusions on the knuckles—somebody’s been fighting.” Doc pressed gently along the bones of Nick’s hand, watching his face. Nick flinched at the tender spots but kept himself from pulling his hands away. “No obvious breaks, probably just some nasty bruises—but it’s hard to say for sure. What else? Looks like you’re favoring your side. Stand up, please?”

  Nick stood, reluctantly accepting Farryn’s help. “Shirt off,” said Doc.

  Nick tried to pull off the shirt he had borrowed from Farryn, but it hurt too much. “I need help,” he said quietly to Kevin. He felt defeated and weak. He needed his little brother’s help just to get his own shirt over his head.

  Nick’s right side was a black-and-blue mess. Doc looked without touching. “So, did you win or lose the fight?” he said.

  “I’m not sure,” said Nick.

  “All right,” said Doc. “I’m going to feel around a bit. Gently. Yell if it hurts too much. But no punching.” Doc laid his hands on Nick’s ribs and ran them carefully from front to back, then up and down. Nick tensed—it hurt badly, but the pain was bearable.

  “Well, it could certainly be a cracked rib or two. I’m not feeling any major breaks, so we shouldn’t have to worry too much about lung puncture or major internal bleeding.” He fetched his coffee and took a sip. “You could use a nice little trip to a hospital for a rejuve tank, but I’m guessing that’s not gonna happen.” Doc gestured at Nick’s green eye. “Looks lik
e you went through once, at least. Got yourself a nice piece of tech in your socket there.”

  “I didn’t ask for it,” said Nick. He thought of the Lecturer’s eyes, popping underneath his thumbs. “I didn’t want it,” he said.

  “Well, I’m guessing your natural eye wasn’t in very good shape, and you’re probably seeing pretty good now,” said Doc. “I say don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” He stood. “Hang on,” he said. “Supplies.” He left the room, then came back a minute later with bandages, antiseptic, and a small black bag. He applied the antiseptic, bandaged Nick’s hands, then began carefully wrapping his torso. “This’ll splint it,” he said. “Help a little to breathe.” He finished, then unzipped the bag and pulled out a hypodermic needle and a small glass vial.

  “Whoa,” said Nick, stepping back. “What’s that for?”

  “Mild opiate,” said Doc. “For the pain.”

  “No,” said Nick, thinking of the wrist restraints clamping down during his lectures, the needle sliding in, the horrible helpless paralysis.

  “It’s nothing,” said Doc. “Low dose. Quick pinch.”

  “I said no!” said Nick, disgust and panic rising up.

  Doc slipped the needle back into its case. “Okay then. So why are you here?”

  “Doc,” said Cass, “Nick needs a place to stay, he can’t be on the streets …”

  Doc put his hands in the air. “Hold on, kids. Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t keep Nick here …”