Toy Wars

by Thomas Gondolfi

  I really don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was loneliness. Maybe it was just stupidity, but I put down my assault rifle and walked down to deal with the injured unit, with only my sidearm and my medical tools.

  As I approached from behind, the pink elephant, sporting purple polka dots, thrashed wildly on its destroyed knees. It would twist around to bear its chest-mounted mortar on me. A mortar has as much reason to be used as close-in defense as do plastic explosives. That didn’t prevent this elephant from trying. Despite its infirmity, the unit moved rather rapidly, turning to face me at just the last second. I’d dart just out of its firing arc.

  The great rose-colored trunk of the creature knocked me off my feet in a great sweeping stroke. The prehensile snout returned to wrap around my leg, but I backpedaled crab-style just out of its reach. “Elephants do have an additional close-in weapon,” I reprimanded myself.

  For nearly an hour I dodged back and forth to circumvent both the power of the elephant’s single digit, and the potential disaster of the weapon in its chest. A tiny opening between the pair allowed me to jump onto its back. I misjudged the creatures flexibility as it hunched over. Only my paws latched onto its massive ears kept me from going over its head. Instead, I dropped and straddled the massive pink back.

  The elephant’s gyrations and flailing trunk forced me to focus on remaining mounted. While violent and lengthy, I never feared the outcome. After three aborted attempts, I opened its processor access panel and toggled its deactivation switch.

  As the unit stopped I slumped forward over the unit’s lumbering bulk. My joint sensors complained of excessive wear and my hydraulic fluid suffered further degradation. I eased myself to my feet, taking care not to add any additional damage. Each of the units had been clean kills.

  To appease my body processor, I did a slow, restful search of the desolate valley. It boasted nothing but some gentle rolling hills with almost no flora or fauna. While I only carried rudimentary programming on mineral wealth, it didn’t seem to boast even that resource. Six never put a guard on a place unless it had some intrinsic value. There seemed to be no specific reason for any units to be there.

  Six sometimes applied such low priority to units or tasks that their interrupt would never get serviced. Those units remained in a never-ending back-flow process, doing the same useless jobs time after time until they wore themselves down to uselessness. I shrugged it off as the fallibility of the Factories, a fact proven by my continued activation. Twice over my processes should have been terminated if a Factory had its way.

  Desolate Valley, as I dubbed it, had nothing of any value.

  I spent all of twenty-three milliseconds worrying that I might have given away my position by attacking these units. In the end it seemed so minor a thing at this point that I shrugged it off. Had there been another within kilometers it would have responded to the alarm raised by the units I had just dispatched.

  Once I had assured myself that I was alone in Desolate Valley, it was time to get to work. I intended to be Dr. Frankenstein, right out of the original Shelley novel. I set up shop near the powered-down elephant. With great care, unlike my radical CCT-ectomy in 55474’s space, I removed my secondary CCT. I took quite a long time disconnecting each lead. In the best of circumstances it was not a trivial task. The surgery took on a new complexity with my only view of it in the surface of a mercury pool. The mercury pool helped but reduced the image somewhat due to the curvature of the surface. It took some adjustment algorithms to get the distortion filtered out. Manipulating the fine tools amongst the even finer hair-like strands of the CCT’s connections with imperfect vision could have been described as foolhardy. Luckily, my body process automated most of the motions. I can’t explain it other than I knew, without looking, where everything on my body was, could touch it and manipulate it without sight. My sump dragged up the word kinesthesia. Still, the sight of the excision reassured me enough to complete my task.

  I was quite pleased with myself. Even Humans didn’t perform surgery on themselves. With a greater interest in speed, I removed all four of the elephant’s CCTs. I then installed my CCT into its primary location. In spite of the vast number of connections, the work went smooth and sure. Even after the better part of an hour no doubts lingered about the accuracy of my connections.

  Its damaged limbs also needed replacement before my creation would live. I removed the offending appendages of my creation. While I thanked assembly line technology for allowing one unit’s parts to be used interchangeably, I cursed the weight of those damned lower legs. Each one massed nearly eight times that of a teddy leg with hip socket. From the other destroyed pachyderm, I removed its dull red legs, dragging them up the hill to my worksite over hours.

  The interchangeable parts fit perfectly on the eighth attempt to angle them into the socket correctly while holding half of their weight (overload capacity on my part) with one hand. While the fur colors didn’t match, I stitched them together with white thread. Color coordination wasn’t my primary concern.

  By the time the sun was sending direct rays down into the valley, I admitted I wouldn’t finish and lay down next to my project as my charging systems began to soak up energy. Instead of sleeping, though, I contemplated my unusual choices and actions.

  Did I have any right? A quote kept echoing through my mind: “Necessity is the only right the strong require.” It didn’t help that the Human named Hitler provided the quote.

  I couldn’t even think why my efforts bothered me. I could have been one full day closer to the next point in my mission. The exertions might have been for naught. Even more, it did not fit into my mission at all. I couldn’t understand the drive within me. But no matter how I analyzed it, I always decided to finish the task. With the decision scrutinized and a course determined, I let my processor wander to reduce its stress. Time ticked away at an accelerated rate.

  Night fell abruptly and I jumped up ready for action. I had been right that the valley cut off a vital portion of the solar power. The sunlight had not fully recharged me. I was going to have to spend more down time. I pushed the thought aside as I had work in front of me. I spent the early evening reconnecting neural connections in each leg. The darkest portion of the evening I spent removing all the filters on the energy panels of my monster. It would need power, too.

  A creation whose total conversation and responses were programmed into it from its construction date appealed to me as much as getting eaten by a basilisk. My desire for companionship to ease the solitude drove me to this act. This meant I required it to have intelligence and empathy. I knew only one way to give it the qualities I desired.

  Out of the tools I’d salvaged from the Nurse Nan, I removed a brain sump syringe, with a needle that seemed longer than my arm. I think the apparent length was my emotional response as it was only 5.3 centimeters long. I personally have no idea why a Nurse Nan should be carrying one of these devices. I’ve never seen it used anywhere on the battlefield or in repairs. But then why should I have teeth?

  The final stage of my Mengelesque construction required the dead of night, still a few hours away, when the temperature dropped as far as possible. I planned to swap a tiny amount of my sump fluid for that of the polka-dotted unit lying at my feet. The teddy brain case maintained a certain elasticity to deal with the heating of the fluid within. What I proposed would test only a fraction of that limit; however, I wanted the fluid to be as cold and shrunken as possible. No sense in begging trouble.

  With the Tedium from my brain, I should have a bright, sentient companion for breakfast. If all didn’t go well I might end up a vegetable and my companion with a head full of black tar, but in that case I would be no worse off than I felt now—traveling on a possibly pointless mission with not a soul to abate my loneliness.

  Performing a surgical procedure on one’s own brain is not for the weak of mind—or then again maybe it depended on the point of view considering the wisdom of my actions of the last few days. Perhap
s if the word conviction replaced mind it might be a more appropriate concept.

  Exactly at midnight, per my internal chronometer, I guided the syringe into the elephant’s sump. I withdrew exactly 5 milliliters of its phosphorescent green brain fluid. Once again I used the reflecting mercury puddle as a mirror. I exposed my own sump’s nipple and looked at the needle in the moonlight. My voltage picked up a tiny oscillation I couldn’t seem to dampen out.

  “I hope you are worth all this trouble,” I said, letting my arms act on what I’d pre-programmed. The needle pressed deeply through permeable membrane. My paw squeezed the hypodermic. The world seemed to teeter at an angle. I closed my eyes and felt marginally better. My arm continued my preprogrammed motions, withdrawing an identical volume. The dizziness abated almost instantly as my own sump returned to its specified volume.

  Grasping the elephant’s massive head in my arms, I infused my brain fluid into the elephant’s sump.

  “That does it. We’re brothers now,” I said as I activated my creation. The CCT in the elephant’s chest sent out a reassuring friendly signal.

  My arms and hands twitched with the extreme precision and extensive overwork of the last day. While everything had gone perfectly, it was still physically and emotionally draining. Even with several hours of darkness remaining, I dozed off.

  Companion

  I awoke rapidly. Something was wrong. My creation was missing.

  “You furball!” I yelled. “See if I ever do anything for you again. Next time I’ll just shoot out your sump.” For nearly an hour I sat in the vermillion dust with my processes caught in an infinite loop, wondering what I’d done wrong. A failsafe interrupt for just such an occurrence fired off.

  “No sense crying over spilt milk. It is time to get back to my mission.”

  Just as I admitted my failure I noted round imprints deep enough only to have carried an elephant. They lead off southwest, the direction needed to travel for my primary mission anyway.

  “I guess I could kill two birds with one stone.” My mental image of a bird was a little shaky so I wasn’t certain if I wanted them killed or not. With dispatch, I packed up and started off after my wayward creation or my mission, whichever came first.

  Throughout my travel that night I chastised myself for wasting efforts on this activity in any way. Had those huge footprints traveled in any other direction I didn’t know if I could have brought myself to follow.

  “Where are you!” I yelled as dawn broke.

  I hadn’t found him the second night, nor the third. Nearly sunup on the fourth morning, I saw the awkward four-legged gait of an elephant silhouetted against the sky.

  “You! Elephant. Stop!”

  I created a local net and delivered a command over my CCT. The elephant finally stopped.

  “Hello?” I asked as I reached verbal range. I got no reply. The elephant just stood there looking off southeast. The Tedium should have thoroughly entrenched itself in his sump by now.

  “Can you hear me?” Still no response. “Of all the Human things.” I all but gave up at that point. I decided this experiment had truly failed. “Oh well, processes do go on.”

  I turned my back on a waste of time and continued on. I got no more than 70 meters when I discovered the bulky pink and purple unit following me. When I stopped, it ambled to my side and sat.

  “Are you following me?”

  It turned its pink face in my direction, but made no sound. Perhaps I should have turned off the elephant, but I saw no reason to do so. If I ignored it, the unit would either be killed or grind to a halt somewhere.

  I resumed my mission. The elephant dogged me, a meter behind and to my left.

  “You are a nuisance.”

  Once again the pink face turned to me as if it would speak but said nothing. I wondered if the extra internal programming I possessed really made a significant difference in my ability to speak. “I don’t care, you dumb beast! Gah! Why am I even talking to you?”

  My righteous indignation made not the slightest difference. “I guess you can stay, you dumb, overstuffed pile of fluff. I don’t have any use for you, but you can stay anyway.” The pink beast followed like it was being pulled on a wagon.

  “Well, if you are going to travel with me, you should at least know where I’m headed and why.

  “I’m a unit of Factory 55466 and I know you are not. My Factory is in danger of being overwhelmed. I need to convince these other Factories to join forces as one rather than continue this fratricidal conflict.”

  The elephant still shuffled alongside but said nothing. I took silence for consent. For 1.6 hours, well into the full sun of the day, I poured out the details of my operation.

  “It’s time to stop and recharge. Why don’t you lie there and I’ll lie here so we don’t cast shadows on one another.”

  The elephant flopped to the ground like his legs had been taken from underneath him.

  “If 55477 was at all typical, I figure it will take about fifty or sixty days travel to get to this other Factory.” The elephant said nothing and as far as I could tell had gone to sleep. With full day upon us I decided to do the same.

  My internal timers woke me as the final rays of sun fled from the sky. Elephant sat patiently at my side. I had shut myself down dreading the thought of having to chase him down again, but decided that if it came to that, I wouldn’t play his game. His mute company didn’t fulfill the empty spot in my chest. If this unit forced me to deviate from my mission, he was a liability. Fortunately, that evening my companion was up and ready to travel.

  I had dallied long enough. I needed to reach the second Factory, and then I somehow had to convince it to aid me. I shook my head at the thought.

  As we traveled that night I gathered valuable data about my lumbering friend. I could slowly outdistance it over the very rugged terrain, but it would make super-unit efforts to catch up when the going was more level. Eventually, I found myself subconsciously slowing for the elephant while it struggled over rough ground. I actually picked easier routes even if it meant taking longer.

  As usual, or what would become usual, Elephant took a position about a meter behind and to my right. We walked. As we walked, I talked. The subject didn’t matter. Elephant never spoke, never uttered a sound. At first I talked about my travels and my mission. Later, I spent a considerable portion of the travel time doing William Shakespeare’s play, Hamlet.

  “…Good night, sweet Prince. And may flights of Angels sing thee to thy rest.” I admit that it lacked something, but it is hard to play a deactivated unit as you continue to walk along.

  “What did you think, Elephant?” As usual, he said nothing. “Well, I guess some units are drama critics.”

  I rattled on. “So what do you think of our mission? Do you think I’m as malfunctioning as I sometimes feel?” No response. “Probably just as well. You would probably think I was insane. I have to joust yet again with a Factory. I don’t understand how I can defeat them.”

  Just at that moment elephant trumpeted. I had never heard Elephant make as much as a peep; in fact, to my best knowledge I’d never heard any elephant unit make any sound. It startled me to a stop.

  “Hello?” No response. It just stood there looking at me expectantly. I didn’t understand and couldn’t envision what it could possibly want. We stood on a large, flat plateau where there was nothing but the occasional boulder for kilometers. My battery levels approached full. With nothing to worry about, I walked on.

  “Ferweet!” he trumpeted again before I took two steps.

  “Now look,” I said, turning back toward my traveling companion. “If you have something to say, say it, otherwise let’s make tracks.” Elephant didn’t budge.

  “Fine, you stay here; I’m going. I have a mission to accomplish.” Turning, I took one step. The elephant wrapped its trunk about my right leg in a quick motion that tripped me and sent me to the ground in a heap. I jumped up, tearing the pink limb off of me.

  “You
overstuffed, sumpless trash hauler. Knock it off. I will go where I decide to go.” I turned and resumed walking. Once again the elephant grabbed me with its one prehensile digit, but around my thighs this time. I fell again, but not because of my friend. Instead, I found myself breaking through a light mat of the ubiquitous ground vegetation and plunging headlong into an abyss below. For just a few brief clock cycles, I envisioned my own crushed body at the bottom of this narrow but very deep gorge. That moment passed as I slammed against the nearby cliff face at the end of Elephant’s trunk. I watched as a battery fell out of my pack and went careening down. Over eight seconds later the report of its demise reached me.

  I scrabbled up the cliff face with the aid of my sharp-witted companion’s sturdy assistance. Acceleration due to gravity on Rigel-3 is 12.74 meters/second squared. Initial distance—zero; initial velocity—zero. So plug into the simplified equation one half the acceleration multiplied by time squared and you have 407 meters deep. Now in safety, I leaned over and looked down into the ravine.

  With my feet on firm ground, I looked at my furry companion in a different way. Perhaps he hadn’t been a waste of effort after all. This merited more thought. “Thank you, Elephant.” With my physical control servos oscillating, I decided that this place was as good as any for a rest. “I don’t think I like the idea of being scrap just yet,” I said, petting the snout that Elephant thoughtfully pressed against me.

  “And what am I going to do with you? You obviously have some use to me…” My sump raced with many non sequitur thoughts. My processor grabbed one of them and ran with it.

  “I just realized I have no idea what to call you. I think we both need names. I need one for you to address me, if you ever develop the faculties of speech or offer me a voice, and me to call you in the meantime.” I once considered myself a contemporary with Marco Polo, but I knew that wasn’t quite right, as there were two of us. Lewis and Clark? No that wasn’t right because helpful as Elephant had proven himself he was not my equal until he proved more able than just spotting holes in the ground. A perfect thought came to mind.