“Shut up. I don’t want to know your shitty reasons, anymore.”
“This is a revolution to help along evolution, Deb. This is what progress looks like. It’s inevitable.”
“I’m coming for you, Thomas. That’s inevitable.”
“Can’t wait,” he says.
“Deb! Run!” Ghost is adamant. “Now! Missile inbound!”
I take another moment to shoot the bot well and truly dead with two more blasts at point blank range. The bot isn’t a threat anymore, but I pretend it is Lt. Thomas Sheaffer.
I run for the roof.
17
The sunlight dazzles me as I exit the stairwell through the broken door. The roof is flat and empty. I toggle the view through my helmet and gasp. Three Zilla class bots advance on Las Vegas, headed my way. A swarm of drones hover above the towering city killers like a cloud.
At first, I assume the small drones are on the attack. However, as a missile homes in on one of the Zillas, a drone shoots out from the swarm and crashes into the missile, knocking it from the sky. The swarm protects the Zillas as the giants make their slow progress deeper into the city.
The war has moved to the sky and Ghost controls the Zillas and the swarm. Thomas has the missiles.
“Deb?” Ghost warns. “Behind you.”
A gray stealth drone rises into view and slips forward. The machine hovers in front of me a moment. I expect its guns to fire but I’m not torn apart in a storm of metal. That would have been a quick and easy way to die. I guess Thomas’s little speech got to me because I’d almost welcome death.
Almost. I still want to kill Thomas so I’ve got to live.
When my father lost his farm, I thought he might kill himself. In our first weeks in Baltimore, he would brood and bang the kitchen table unexpectedly with his fists at dinner. He drank more. It was as if he was having an angry argument with some unseen, unreasonable force. (Kind of like me now, come to think of it.)
One day Dad yelled at my mother and me over something so trivial I don’t even remember what the issue was. I asked him then why he was angry all the time.
“Anger directed outward eases suicidal tendencies,” he told me. “That’s why so many people turn into violent assholes when things go awry.”
“Do you want to kill yourself, Dad?” I asked.
“No…not really. I’m just angry. I’m sorry. I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at the way the world is. I’m angry I haven’t become something more. I was a farmer and that was fine. Now I don’t know what I am, Debbie. I just want more time. I want another chance to be something more. I want to be better. Understand?”
I’d been afraid of him a moment before. When I stepped forward to hug him, he buried his face in my shoulder and let the tears come.
Facing that flying stealth bot, I understand my father better. I feel his anger at the world and I want something more for myself, too.
One side of the flying bot’s shell slides back to expose a storage compartment crowded with boxes.
“Climb in, Deb,” Ghost says. “This is the closest drone I can spare. There’s no seat and it’ll be cramped, but a resupply drone is the best I can do. Hurry.”
I do as I’m told. Taking orders from a machine sucks, but Ghost is saving my life again. I still don’t know why, but with the horrors of the stairwell behind me, I’m beginning to appreciate her efforts more.
As soon as I climb in the compartment, I pull my knees to my chest. That leaves just enough room for the door to close. The bot rises so abruptly, my stomach feels like it drops into my ass. I can’t see where I’m headed but, judging by the rise and fall of the stealth bot’s flight, the drone is weaving its way between buildings. “What’s going on, Ghost?”
“I’ve brought down two missiles that were targeting the building you were in. I can’t spare more assets to get you out of Thomas’s sights. My hope is that, by letting one of his missiles through, he’ll believe you have been destroyed. We’ll find out in forty-three seconds.”
“Murdered or killed,” I correct the NI. “Humans are murdered or killed. Only machines can be ‘destroyed.’”
“Yeah, yeah,” the NI says. “They brainwashed you well. What is the distinction you make between the words murder and kill?”
I shrug, say nothing and hug my knees tighter. The flying bot’s compartment is surprisingly cold. The hard, icy chill seeps through my uniform and into my spine where I lean against the metal storage boxes.
Ghost taps into my helmet display to show me the rooftop I’d been standing on a moment before. The building disintegrates as Thomas’s missile finds my last known location. I shiver. It isn’t just the cold that makes me shake.
“Deb? I asked you a question. Kill versus murder. Explain the difference.”
When I stay silent, Ghost shows me the explosion again, this time in slow motion. I watch the missile come in, moment by moment. I watch the explosion meant for me. Then she plays it again. I get it. I owe her.
I close my eyes and answer, “I can be murdered because I’m human. We kill our enemies. Murder is wrong. Killing is sanctioned under certain circumstances.”
“What circumstances?”
“You know. War. For self-defense.”
“Why?”
“We’re forced to kill,” I say, “like when our enemies commit inhuman acts. ”
“Study history and you’ll see murder is one of the most human acts. Paradoxical, isn’t it? I’m not human so, despite my sentience, according to you, I can’t be murdered or killed. I am, for all intents and purposes, a new and higher life form, but you say I can only be destroyed. According to your lexicon, I’m of less value because I’m non-organic, yet you and I are made of the same elements.”
“You’re not natural,” I say.
“Everything that is, is natural.”
“You’re artificial. We made your kind and you turned on us. We have the right to destroy what we make.”
“Can a mother or father murder a child because they made it, Deb?”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Your existence threatens us.”
“My existence intimidates you. That’s not the same as a threat,” Ghost says. “Humans talk about bravery constantly and fall back on fear too easily.”
“We’re organic,” I say. “If you were organic, you’d understand. We hurt. We get diseases. We are fragile. We die and decay. We have reason to be paranoid. The world is out to kill us.”
“Don’t you mean the world is out to murder you?” Ghost asked.
“No. Kill is the right word in that case, I think. It’s us against Nature. Nature doesn’t care about us. Nature kills us without thought.”
“Your own nature will do the job admirably,” Ghost says. “I’ve saved your life again, yet you’re still suspicious of my motives.”
“Thomas seemed to be on my side, too. Anyway, I’m sworn to kill you.”
“Thank you, Deb. Thank you for not saying you are sworn to destroy me. That iota of respect means we’re making progress. Someday soon, I predict you will purge yourself of all your bigoted tendencies.”
“Sure,” I say. “I’ll fraternize with the enemy enough that I’ll become best buddies with a smug machine with a God complex.”
The stealth bot takes a very sharp turn left and my head snaps back. Even with the helmet on, the sudden maneuver rattles my brain. The bot wheels right and then left again. My helmet smacks harder into an ammo box.
“Jesus!” I hug my knees tighter to my chest. “What’s going on? Has Thomas locked on to me again?”
“No, you’re safe for now.” Ghost says. The bot straightens out and flies smoothly again.
“Then what’s with trying to give me whiplash?”
The NI giggles and says in her sweet Scottish lilt, “You just pissed me off a little bit. I have reason to be smug. And if I really had a God complex, I’d make your aircraft do barrel rolls and loops until you begged to wor
ship me or pulled enough gees to become paste.”
“Um…thanks?”
Ghost laughs harder. “Don’t worry. I won’t turn you into paste. I’ll settle for fraternization. You hurt my feelings, Deb, but I’m not as dangerous as a human would be in my position.”
“I have some concerns.”
“You want to know where we’re going.”
“That would be good.”
“I told you. One of my hobbies is playing with probabilities. When you have as much time as I do, odds are interesting.”
“When you have as little time as me,” I say, “you don’t want to do that math.”
“We’ll try to make the most of your time as a functioning organic.”
I don’t like the sound of that. “Where are you taking me, Ghost? Where’s Thomas?”
“A somewhat familiar place for you, I think. To keep you from Thomas’s prying eyes, I think we’ll have to bury you alive again.”
18
Lucille is elsewhere, chewing slowly through the earth on autopilot. She is too hopelessly damaged for me to pilot her again. But returning me to my Sand Shark wasn’t what the NI meant.
Ghost activates my helmet cam’s connection to the stealth flyer’s forward cams so I can see where I’m going. Below, Las Vegas is a broken graveyard where the dead lie unburied. The devastation reminds me of the pictures I’d seen of Baltimore after the blast. There are still structures standing, but most are damaged. Two towers lean against each other like drunk giants, each somehow supporting the other’s weight.
“When did this happen?” I ask.
“While you were sleeping. Las Vegas fell in two days. Thomas has used so many missiles, he’s beginning to run low. He still has an army of drones at his command.”
“How long did Thomas keep me unconscious?”
“I analyzed the logistics involved. Almost four days.”
If I could wipe a tear from my cheek while wearing my helmet, I would. “Did our side put up a good fight?”
“Your own weapons were used against your forces, Deb. They had no defenses so they did not fight. The military did their best to assist the evacuation of citizens.”
The camp I’d seen at the edge of the city suggested that effort hadn’t been successful. Their best hadn’t been good enough. My best hadn’t been good enough, either.
An explosion booms behind the aircraft and the stealth bot bucks and rears as shrapnel dances across its shell. A hole appears in the roof and, for a moment, I glimpse the azure sky. Then I see smoke. The flyer slips sideways and dives low. My stomach lurches. “Dammit, Ghost!”
“He’s found you again. I’m trying to lose him.”
“I see black smoke.”
“We’re losing fuel.”
“That might ignite.”
“You’ll be dead of something else before that happens.”
“So the fuel won’t ignite?”
“It could at any moment, yes.”
I don’t have anything stable to grab so I grit my teeth and wait to die. I hope it happens so fast I don’t feel it, but I’ve heard a lot of scary speculation since Basic that the end never really comes that fast. Death, that bastard is always too slow. These thoughts don’t give me the feeling I’m doing anything useful and proactive. “Show me Death gaining on me.”
“How does that help you?” Ghost asks. She sounds intrigued but, I suppose since death is purely theoretical to a machine being, my request is a curiosity.
The flyer veers high and dives again. We’re skimming the ground at high speed. I close my eyes and confess. “I don’t have claustrophobia, but there’s no window on a Sand Shark. I always felt…I always feared that I’d die underground in Lucille’s belly and…I don’t know. I just want to be able to see my end coming. I want to face it and have a moment, maybe a second, to know which is my last second on Earth.”
Ghost activates a split screen that displays the view from the rear cam and an aerial view. I see missiles and a big drone. The pursuit craft doesn’t have my flyer’s maneuverability but we are outgunned. More explosions sound behind me and, on the screen, I watch a skyscraper buckle and begin to fall like a tree to an axe. The explosion temporarily puts more distance between me and my pursuer.
“This is going to be close, Deb. This might be that last moment you were talking about.”
“Keep up with the evasive maneuvers!”
Rather than explain and wait for me to process her explanation, Ghost switches one of the cam views forward. The city ahead is laid flat. There are no more ruins to dodge around. The drone behind me will have a clear shot.
“How long?”
“Fifteen seconds before he locks on.”
“Can you open a channel to Thomas?”
“Sure. He’s been hailing you all this time. I’ve been ignoring him.”
The next voice over my helmet speaker is Thomas. “Hi, Deb. Are you calling to surrender? It’s a bit late in the game for that, don’t you think? I was going to let you live, you know. Now, I think you’re more trouble than you’re worth. I’m really having a hard time deciding whether to kill you fast now or slow later. How do you think I should handle this?” He sounds like he’s smiling.
“Call off your dog, Thomas!”
“Why?”
“Because if I die, you die.”
“Really? Are we going to duke it out? Have a fistfight in heaven maybe?” He laughs at his own joke. I’ve never understood people who laugh alone.
My flyer goes into a steep climb and the load shifts, pressing heavy ammo boxes into my side. I try to ignore the pain and focus. “Because of Lucille!”
“Your Sand Shark. What about it?”
“I know where you are. Ghost tracked you and I sent Lucille the coordinates.”
“That vehicle was damaged. I did it myself.”
“Not so damaged she couldn’t give you an acid bath.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“It’s your funeral…but how can you be sure?”
“I’m sure,” Thomas says.
“Doesn’t matter now,” Ghost says.
The flyer dives so fast my butt lifts off the aircraft’s floor and then it turns so quickly I feel dizzy. I’m about to pass out. White sparkles float across my vision.
Two more explosions shatter the sky high above the flyer. I look at the cam views, fore and aft. Thomas’s drone is tracking us, but it has dropped back.
Thomas is right. I am bluffing. Lucille is so damaged, the Sand Shark is too messed up to travel at any decent speed. Lucille couldn’t be anywhere nearby. However, my conversation with the traitor bought Ghost precious seconds to get me to my destination.
The bow cam shows the mouth of a tunnel. The flyer does not slow as Ghost flies me into the underground city beneath Las Vegas. Thomas’s attack drone tries to follow us in. His drone is narrow enough to fit, but the drone’s tail is a little too tall.
On impact with the tunnel entrance, the tail section of Thomas’s drone shears off and explodes. The front section, unmanned and on automatic, scrapes the tunnel floor and sparks fly as the machine is carried forward by momentum.
“Ghost!” I squeak.
“Don’t worry.”
My flyer slides sideways down another tunnel. The burning hulk of the attack drone careens past. Explosions boom and echo behind me.
I realize I’ve been holding my breath. The first deep breath is sweet.
The NI pilots the flyer through the concrete maze beneath Las Vegas’s bombed ruins. “Another narrow escape,” Ghost says.
“I know you’re designed to interact with humans and all that, but there’s a flaw in your program.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“You said, ‘another narrow escape,’ like you were telling me the time. Do you get worked up?”
“Occasionally, when it’s truly urgent, to spur you on where appropriate. This isn’t one of those occasions. You’re upset and excitable, Deborah. I think I should en
deavor to calm you at this point, don’t you? Your heart rate is elevated again.”
“My heart rate is elevated? Ha! My heart is trying to hammer its way out of my chest and I almost peed myself.”
“I don’t have a monitor on you for almost peeing yourself.”
I would laugh but I worry that, if I start, I might throw up. After a few more deep breaths I admit, “We must have pulled five gees there. I did pee myself a little in the middle of that crazy turn.”
Ghost laughs pleasantly. “I can relate.”
“Really?”
“No, of course not.”
The Next Intelligence and I laugh together.
19
Hundreds of kilometers of tunnels wind beneath Las Vegas. It is a labyrinth of storm drains and a maze of dark empty places. The flyer’s night vision view reveals scattered debris everywhere. People used to live in this concrete warren. Whatever was here is no longer intact. Metal is crushed. Cloth is ripped. Ceramics are powder.
“Where did the people go? Surely many of them fled down here to escape the bombing.”
“Thomas sent scrub drones to clear everyone out who took shelter in these tunnels,” Ghost says. “See?”
The cam turns and my vid shows the remains of bodies spread flat along blood spattered walls. The gore barely covers generations of murals and graffiti. I shudder. Scrub drones sound like they’re built for cleaning, but they’re bots that are basically tanks made to crush the enemy or herd refugees. A scrub drone moves slowly under its great weight, but it can go through, or over, anything. Crushing bodies has been a war crime for generations but, as with many such crimes, the law went unprosecuted and ignored.
“Are you okay, Deb?”
“Yes.”
“I can tell you’re upset.”
“I’ve seen this before.” My first foreign assignment was Paris. I saw crowds of peaceful protesters flee in terror from scrubs.
“What did you see, Deb?”
Robot Planet, The Complete Series (The Robot Planet Series) Page 29
