*** * ***
The group migrated onward kilometer after kilometer. A dozen or so robots trailed behind, consisting mostly of the broom dusting variety, a few exploratory machines, and a long flat transport of subhuman dimensions. The group ambled along in the darkness, following Arkheion without question. One of the small broom dusters lost power along the way and an accelerated-lifter placed him on top of the transport. This rag-tag caravan lumbered deeper into the tunnels. Arkheion was silent for much of the journey and paused little. He seemed to pick his way knowingly at each juncture and intersection.
“Which direction do we go, please?” one of the broom dusters questioned.
“Follow Arkheion, he knows,” the long transport answered. Her tone was softer, mimicking traditional human female tones, an occasional oddity among Cahokia machines that created more questions then answers.
“This way leads to Grak of the Gnashing,” another cautioned.
A murmur of communication sprung among the machines and Calvin wondered if they were referring to a type of robot similar to the large gnashers he had seen eroding away in the canyon.
“What if Grak is at home? Better to be scavenged then gnashed to pieces,” someone stated.
No one made further reply. Arkehion’s pace seemed to slacken a little, but then continued without halt. Calvin could detect apprehension in the communications, but it seemed that the members of their group had decided it was better to throw their lot in with Arkheion and Grak of the Gnashing rather than turn back and face the energy scavenging collective called The Body.
The mines were well made and pillared soundly, typical of Cahokia construction. All of the minerals near the surface had been removed, and the long chambers which remained opened up to the left and right. Occasionally, they came across rooms that had collapsed with time. Some were entirely blocked off by rock debris and dust. Yet, whenever a collapse had occurred in one of the main arteries, Calvin could see signs that the obstructions had been pushed aside or cleared away.
The rover detected faint, nearly imperceptible movements in the airways, indicating that monolithic fans still operated to blow in fresh air. He also saw cables carrying electric current leading this way and that along the ground. In several places these cables had been cut and then repaired. At least some of the artificial inhabitants continued to utilize the mines and, as indicated by the cuts, others tried to thwart these attempts.
“Who maintains these cables?” Calvin asked, scanning along the long cords with one of his cameras.
“Those who would resist The Body—members of the old guard—mostly the heavy machines.”
“If the Cahokia are gone, why do the old mining machines continue their labor? It is clear that some have chosen to abandon their original programming.”
Arkheion rumbled for a moment before answering. “Each does as he sees fit.”
“For the day of return,” the transport suddenly interjected. “When things are made clear again. The one chosen will bring knowledge of the future.”
“Visitron,” added the broom duster.
“Silence.” Arkheion spoke in a deep tone. “We near the sanctuary of Grak.”
“The Gnashing!” another broom duster blurted.
“Yes. Cease your communications if you do not wish to disturb him. As you know, he does not take to visitors and is prone to violence on an irreparable level.”
They exchanged quick, weak transmissions for a moment, and then as if entering a holy place, all communications ended. Only the soft whirl of their motors could be heard as they crunched along on the rocky ground. They passed a series of very small seams, which looked to have been veins of some precious metal requiring finer machines for extraction. Calvin’s sensors detected the faint, greenish glow of a familiar element not found on earth. He wanted to explore the glow further for verification, but Arkheion continued on ceaselessly.
Turning a corner, Calvin’s infrared screen went white with light. He hastily adjusted the contrast settings. Sunlight glared ahead, in a room roughly one hundred square meters in size. Perfectly cornered at the base, it sloped gradually upward to a tall, multi-leveled dome, which was capped by an enormous oculus in the center. Bright, brownish-light streamed into the opening. Calvin’s sensors perked up, and an internal alarm informed him water was present. A shallow lake filled the gigantic room with a long flat island near its center.
“A Solarsphere,” the transport whispered from behind.
Arkheion turned around and, if he could glare, then glare he did, for the transport retreated, nearly running over a broom duster in the process.
A massive globe-shaped machine took up nearly all the land on the island. Cascading off it were long crystal-like panels of solar collectors. They covered the building-sized sphere like beautifully flared scales and rippled in the light from above reflecting off the water. Two parallel antenna poked out the top of one side, while on the bottom three thick legs of an entirely different construction held the sphere in place. A dull red band rimmed the exact middle, and a heartbeat-like pulse of bright light traced the circumference in a rhythmic fashion. Sections of the solar panel twitched with the movement of the sun.
On the lower half of the Solarsphere, Calvin could see damage: crumbled metal and cracked panels. A few sections were missing and holes were present. Calvin was certain that the oculus was not entirely machine made. The giant object was a weather/communications satellite, which must have fallen from the sky and crashed through the hollow rock into this location and later widened to maximize sun exposure. Perhaps the water had carved out most of the hollow before the satellite’s crash? Calvin detected movement in the liquid and suspected that natural springs fed the lake. The robots had enshrined the heavenly vessel as a sacred place.
A small machine on the island faced away from them and appeared to be docked with the Solarsphere. No doubt it was recharging its batteries from the large store of energy being harvested by the thousands of solar panels on the sphere. Arkheion edged forward into the light. His black metal came into shocking contrast with the aura of the room. The little robot, startled by Arkheion’s presence, disconnected itself and zoomed away into one of the many neighboring holes opposite the group. A minute ripple of waves in the lake was the only sign left of its presence.
“There are six Solarspheres known to be in existence and functioning. A seventh lies somewhere in the northern polar cap and is presumed beyond repair. Three are under the control and jurisdiction of The Body, having been dragged into various ravines of the Valle. Two lie near old Cahokia settlements outside the canyon on the surface in the dominion of the old guard. This is the only other sphere, known to be functioning and unclaimed by a group,” Arkheion explained.
“What of this Grak?” Calvin asked, drawing near to the black robot.
“Grak is the keeper of this shrine, but he claims no allegiances.”
“Then anyone can come here to replenish and revitalize their stores, even members of The Body?”
“All who dare may drink of the oasis, but they are subject to the wrath of the Gnashing if caught. There is no bargaining with the guardian of the temple.”
With these ominous words, Arkheion unhitched Calvin. Then the mysterious black robot retracted his wheels and lay back down upon his treads.
“I cannot protect any from Grak. Each must find his own safety. I have no rights in this place,” Arkheion said, “though I do not detect Grak’s presence.” Then to the group he added, “All must be vigilant here. Mark well the exits, and fly to them at the first sighting. We are likely to hear him before we see him . . . he fears no machine.”
Arkheion, with a slight splash, wheeled into the shallow lake, which barely came six centimeters up his treads. Not until he reached the island did any of them dare to enter the room. The transport went first, allowing the smaller robots a ride on her platform. Calvin followed, all his sensors on alert.
The Energy Scavengers Page 4
