“Oh, hello young lady,” he said in a feeble, kindly voice.
“Hi,” she said. “I brought you something.” She cheerfully handed him the box she had carried from the storefront.
“Oh, you're too kind. Are you sure it's OK?”
“Of course,” she said cheerfully. “I owe you my life.”
The old man laughed, a deep hearty laugh that always bordered on sounding like wheezing, leaving the young to wonder which it was. “You don't owe me anything, dear. You shouldn't venture to this side of town. They leave this old man alone, but a young lady like you...”
She blushed, looking at the ground somewhat sheepishly. “It's OK. You need this stuff.”
“I appreciate this,” the old man said. “But you should forget about me. I'll be gone soon. I can feel it. Anyway—”
“I could never forget you!” she burst out, rushing to embrace him before remembering his feebleness, checking herself at the last minute. “If it weren't for you, I—”
As she hugged him, the man looked out of the corner of his eye at the street. Arex hid a little further behind the building he leered from. Had he been seen?
“Well, you shouldn't have played on the tracks at any rate. All I did was what any decent human would have. I appreciate it, but you haven't had to come all these years. For some old worker class guy.”
“I don't care about that. Why should that matter?” She became indignant, though it wasn't meant at him. She looked down, used to losing that argument where she was from.
He snorted, then glanced about. “Well, you should run home, young lady. It's dangerous for you here.”
“Okay,” she said. She'd begun to tear up. Somehow, for reasons she couldn’t have articulated, she knew it was probably the last time she'd see him.
He winked at her, then shut the door. She was too deep in thought, too overcome with emotion to pay the usual attention her surroundings demanded. She didn't see them circling like vultures, didn't react by moving quickly and purposefully as she had all these years.
She didn't, anyway.
***
Joey looked over his fitting job one more time, making sure all the seals for space exposure were in place and tightened. The robot could likely survive without them, but insurance is never a bad thing. Joey ran the hyperdriver into the screw joint one last time to make sure it was snug, then stepped back to admire his work.
“Are you sure you're up to this, robot?” Joey checked the robot's space fit levels one last time, more to calm his nervous compulsion than any real use. There wasn't the danger to a machine that a human would experience in the void. The robot was built to space standards, unlike a human.
“Problem, there is not,” the robot said. “Are you toast for breakfast?”
***
“We just need to access the keypoint,” Porter said, trying hard not to look at the robot even though it was the obvious answer. The robot’s makers equipped it with the ability to interface with an almost limitless variety of sources. If anything stood a chance of getting them into the server, it was the robot.
A week ago he would have suggested the robot instantly, referring to it like he would have any other part on the ship – but now, it was different, somehow. Everyone began reacting to the robot as if it were a person: giving it space, not referring to it while it was in the room.
Even Isellia acted different — she looked on edge in the machine’s presence and saved her biting sarcasm for its absence. Isellia also displayed a certain curiosity toward the robot, watching it when it wasn’t looking (though its sensors could take in the entire periphery), observing its actions. She even displayed a certain sympathy toward it, like she might toward any other member of the crew who’d been assaulted. In her own way.
“If I ever find One-Lung Alice, she'll be called No-Lung Alice when I’m finished,” she said often, always in the robot’s presence, punching a bulkhead wall on the “no.” The robot at first repeated the the word no-lung the first time she said it, punching the bulkhead and denting a beam on the ship. Joey, emotional from the empathy Isellia displayed, explained that his actions were neither efficient nor prudent. From then on when Isellia repeated her mantra, the robot simply nodded in acknowledgement — the same thing Porter had done.
The robot had begun imitating them a lot, actually. It followed Joey around, curious at everything it did. It observed Isellia fixing things, monitoring the ship’s systems. She mostly let it, save for the time it tried to observe her in the shower, after which she shooed it out with a swat and told it to watch Joey instead. The robot didn’t know why Isellia wanted that particular memory erased, but obliged none the less.
It also had wandered into Rex and the assassin’s training session — they didn’t pay it much mind, continuing their practice until they noticed it imitate their movements better then any first-year student could. After it kept showing up in their makeshift training hall, they decided to experiment, first demonstrating some light sparring then using steel beams to attack it. Once the robot came within inches of landing a blow on Rex’s chest — one that would have torn a hole in his sternum had it landed — they decided to wait on teaching it any more moves. They didn’t stop it from observing and imitating, however.
None of the crew quite knew whether they should ethically be able to ask the robot what they wanted to do — since they wouldn’t know what would happen when they did or whether they would be able to get the robot back after they were done.
They didn’t exactly know if it was self-aware, but they sure didn’t know that it wasn’t.
“Cake,” the robot said suddenly, surprising a crew that had gotten used to surprises from their mechanical friend lately.
“What?” Joey asked, puzzled.
“It is cake,” the robot said matter-of-factly. It looked up at them curiously, cocking its cranial unit, then went back to a servo it was examining.
“What is cake?” Porter asked.
“Dilemma. Solution. ...Cake.”
Isellia rolled her eyes and slapped herself in the head. She looked around, realizing she was the first to figure it out. “Duh. You mean piece of cake. Right, robot? You're saying the solution to our problem is easy, right?”
“Yes, cake.” the robot said. “Have it and eat it. Too.”
The crew chuckled, wondering where it was getting these expressions.
“So if the solution is so easy, what is it, Mr. Robot?” the assassin asked, leaning against the left-side terminal casually.
“Robot will activate the keypoint.”
Porter felt relieved that he didn't have to ask, but Joey looked worried. “Are you sure, robot?”
“Probability of success is high. It is not on the charts.”
Joey was too worried to pay much attention to his misinterpretation of the expression. “I can fit you for this, robot, but... are you sure...?”
The robot looked up at Joey, cocking its head a moment as if considering the syntax.
“It is decided,” the robot said.
***
Arex charged at the first thug to grab Sophie — before she could even scream he was out of his hiding spot and running with all the strength he could muster. It was hardly his first fight — his big mouth got him into trouble more times than he could count, and he’d figured a few things out from the number of beatings he took. One of the things he learned is to take advantage of the element of surprise — you only get it once in a fight. He nearly slammed into the man, a hulking tough in jeans and a ripped T-shirt and shimmer-hawk, when he noticed the resigned look on her face.
Too late to change direction. Thud.
Arex thumped into the guy with all his might, running at a full tilt before lowering his head to get as much angle underneath the meathead as he could. Even with the right angle and speed, however he felt like he’d slammed into a solid wall, recoiling back onto the pavement. The thug grunted in surprise but only staggered back a step or two.
The other t
hug, in a poly breaker-suit that bounced the wind more than guided it, had seen Arex coming but recognized instantly the lack of threat the young man represented.
“Arex!” Sophie shouted, surprised for the first time.
“Dammit,” Arex muttered, lying on the ground. He quickly sprung to his feet, but the thug was faster, grabbing his shirt and dragging him to his toes. Arex took a few futile swings but they just glanced off the thug’s arms, which seemed impossibly hard.
“Who the hell's this little potser, S?” The thug all but ignored Arex as he thrashed to get free.
“He's...” Sophie looked at Arex, considering what to say. Why'd he come here? “He's a friend.”
“Hmmph,” the thug snorted. “Not a very smart one.” At this Arex thrashed harder, and the thug had to hold his grip a little tighter.
“Please, just let him go,” she begged. “He doesn't have anything to do with this. I've done what you said. I always have.”
Arex looked at Sophie in disbelief. What was she mixed up in?
“Sorry. You run items for us, we let you feed that old man. That's the deal. You don't get anymore favors. There ain't nothing that can stop him from getting the beating he's earned.”
The thug slammed Arex to the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him. Before he could start to get up, the first thug kicked him, lifting him like a soccer ball with the bottom of his feet and sending him sprawling. He yelled out before hitting in a thud.
“Just, please stop,” Sophie screamed, tugging on the other thug’s shirt sleeve. “Please, just let him go.”
The thug looked down at her and smirked. “Oh, didn’t know he was that important to ya. Hmm. But you wasn’t supposed to be followed. Maybe I oughta take it out on you.”
The other thug forgot Arex and turned to watch. Sophie lowered her head and shut her eyes, not wanting to see the blow coming. She accepted it, but the fear of what was to come sent her shivering.
“No!” Arex shouted. The two men turned to see Arex standing on his feet, more or less. Blood streaked down his chin, which he tried unsuccessfully to wipe off with the back of his hand. “Leave her alone.”
“Arex, just run away,” Sophie said, while the thugs laughed heartily. “Just go!”
“Nope, I’m not going anywhere.” He started to walk toward the group.
“Just go. Why would you stay? Why would you help me? You hate me!”
Arex grinned at her, a grin she’d noticed before and always dreamed would be directed at her.
“Like the old man said, we’re classmates, right?”
The thug with the shimmer-hawk grabbed Sophie and threw her to the ground. “Enough of this. You shoulda left when you had the chance, you little dip. This isn’t even gonna be fun, it’ll be so easy.”
Arex had been faking the severity of his injuries, and he pounced quickly when the thug was in range, striking a blow on the nose. The brute staggered back a little, but shook it off quickly enough to shift enough to catch Arex’s groin shot on the left hip instead, where it did little damage. He punched Arex in the head, sending him sprawling to the street.
Arex had never been hit so hard in his life, and when he looked up, his vision blurred, continually shifting, never settling still. The thug held his nose.
“Well go finish off the little bastard already, wouldya!” The second man shouted, shoving the hired muscle forward.
The man needed little prodding and started kicking Arex repeatedly, until he no longer had the strength to try to block the blows at all. Sophie begged, pleaded, told them she’d do anything if they’d only stop, but he continued until at last Arex wasn’t moving.
“Punk little bastard,” the man said, spitting on his lifeless form.
As soon as he finished talking, a laser blast cut into the side of the thug's arm, singeing the fabric and making a slight cut on his arm. The man wheeled around in surprise, nursing his arm.
“Get the hell outta here,” said an elderly voice behind them.
“Mr. Kitsba!” Sophie said.
Arex lifted his head slightly, wincing at every move he made. “Mr... Kitsba?”
“You just signed your own death warrant, old man!” The thug winced as he rubbed the side of his arm.
The old man chuckled. “Doesn't mean much to someone who's nearly dead anyway.” He fired another shot near the thug’s feet. “Come and get me motherfuckers.”
“Mr. Kitsba...” Sophie muttered, a tear coming down her cheek.
“Word of advice: I don’t miss unless on purpose, you little punks. Tell your boss to come for me. Always dreamed I’d take a few of you shits with me before I kick outta here.” Kitsba spat on the alley bright white pavement.
“You’re dead, old man,” the muscle said as he left.
“Don’t I know it,” Kitsba said, leaning a little harder on his cane after they were out of eye sight.
“Mr. Kitsba...” Sophie said, running up to him.
“Don’t worry about me. I got one foot in the grave already. That young man’s pert near dead. Better get him some help.”
“But those guys...”
“Whatever their hold on you, I’ll make sure it’s gone. Just never show that pretty little face of yours around these parts ever again.”
“But... I can’t...”
“Now don’t give me no lip, sweatheart. You make sure that young man stays outta here too. I got a couple favors I never called in — might as well get some use outta them. If you can get him two blocks down, you can get a taxi. Now go.”
Sophie looked at Arex, then ran to give the man a hug. He didn’t chide her, but stroked her hair gently.
“Never was one as gentle as you,” he said softly, stroking her hair as she sobbed. “Never in all my years. Not where you come from. Gives an old man some hope.”
Then he shoved her away. “Alright, yer makin’ me soft. Get that kid outta here. Take care of him, huh?”
She didn’t say anything, but nodded. With tears in her eyes, she dragged him moaning down the street.
***
It had been awhile since Joey had thought about his mother, and now he was worried.
He’d left her on the colony to take off with this crew, who now headed toward a point in space no one seemed to be able to say much about. He wondered what she would think about what they were doing — not that he had any idea exactly what they were doing. He thought she would be proud of him, piloting a space ship. She’d probably be worried, but not show it in that way she did whenever he did something crazy back on the colony.
Joey looked over at Porter, who watched the viewscreen silently. Porter told the story about Babel IX — not much of his story really described what it was like. Rex and the assassin didn’t say much about why they wanted to go there, and Porter didn’t press. Had they been there? He didn’t know that either.
He looked over at Porter, considering asking him more - but the look on his face told him that he wouldn’t get much answers. He had the look that Mr. Twitters rarely got when he was thoroughly flummoxed by something. Joey sighed, checking the controls.
He didn’t stay silent long, however. Soon the beacon on the monitor told Joey that he was approaching the coordinates.
“Sir, we’re here,” Joey said, looking at Porter’s face for a reaction.
Porter shook as if just woken from a deep sleep. “Oh, is that so? I should alert the others.”
As if on cue, the assassin strolled onto the bridge, checking the monitor over Joey’s shoulder. She leaned over his chair, arching her back with the grace she had become known for. Porter noticed he couldn’t stop looking at her, but it wasn’t her body — at least not entirely — that drew his attention.
“Looks like we’ll be there soon.” The assassin lengthened in a stretch, yawned a little, then resumed her normal posture.
Porter eyed her with one eyebrow cocked. “Any idea of what we’re going to encounter in this, um, server?”
The assassin didn’t say anythin
g but looked him up and down with the same grin on her face that she walked in with. After a moment, she shrugged, and ruffled Joey’s hair. Joey found this strangely comforting, despite the fact that the strange woman still made him quite uncomfortable.
Joey’s inquisitive nature overcame his nervousness around the woman in black. “So, how do we get in?” He asked, looking back over his head at her.
She smiled at him, not an unwarm one, but it was Rex who entered the bridge, followed by the robot, who answered. “Every room has a way in, every castle has a gate, every lock has a key. We just need to access the keypoint.”
“The keypoint?” Joey asked. “What’s a keypoint? How do we do that?”
Both Rex and the assassin looked at the robot.
Joey looked from them to the robot and back. “Oh.”
***
Arex woke in a room that seemed impossibly white — bed sheets that were clean to the touch and felt slightly metallic — an expensive material hospitals use because they are durable and easy to sterilize. A semi-translucent shield blocked off his portion of the room from the other patients. Nurses in white and red body suit uniforms that covered everything but their faces were able to pass through the shield but harmful bacteria were not.
He noticed he could not move, at least not without a great deal of pain. He tried to reach up to his face to wipe his eyes, but a searing pain shot through his arm. He winced, and left his arm where it was.
He looked over to his other arm to see if that too was broken, and saw Sophie, staring at him with worried eyes — but there was something else in them too, he thought later. At the moment he managed a grin at her presence.
“You’re awake,” she said in a very small voice.
“Very observant of you,” he said before coughing, which hurt his broken ribs and caused him to wince in pain some more.
She continued staring at him, expressionless though he tried to shrug it off. “You’re not so tough, you know.”
Robot Awareness: Special Edition Page 16
