Dazzle Ships

by E. E. Isherwood

  Still alive, I ran toward the concrete building attached to the dam. Whoever was in there, I had to make contact and get them to stop their attack on my friends.

  I left my staff, mistake I thought about the whole way across the short, empty stretch of pavement in front of the building. One little rod wasn’t going to help me against lasers and bullets. I resisted going back for it simply because it made me feel stronger than I otherwise did. So many things ran through my head in those few seconds of running.

  “Help! Stop! Those are my friends!” My shouting was making me close to hoarse now. Somewhere along the way, probably when I got out of that hole, I’d started to cry from the crazy-powerful threat of death pressing down on me. That caught up with me, too.

  I stopped in my tracks when I’d made it most of the way across. A small door had opened and some tracked vehicles came squeaking out. Two were out before I realized what was going on. A few more followed as I watched.

  They moved faster than I would have guessed. They crossed the hot tarmac of the parking lot and in moments had me surrounded.

  I raised my hands again.

  “I surrender. Take me to your commander. Please.”

  I had no idea if the little vehicles knew what I said, though I cringed as their gun turrets swiveled in unison so they all pointed directly at my middle.

  I felt to my knees, repeating my surrender, and increasing my rate of tears. Death suddenly seemed pointless if I couldn’t ensure it had been worth something.

  “Just don’t kill my friends,” I added, though I was talking down to the pavement.

  The firing on the hillside subsided. A single cannon on the far side continued with its beam weapon for a minute or so after the others, but soon it folded itself up and dropped into the ground like the others. I couldn’t see them, but I assumed the hovering drones were collecting themselves in their little holes, too.

  The big mystery was whether my friends had already been killed. Were they closing up shop because everyone as far as the eye could see had been killed, or killed more completely?

  “I’ll come without trouble. Please let my friends be all right,” I said softly. The day went back to total silence with stunning speed. The whir of machinery as the last turret collapsed was the coda of the furious symphony I’d just stumbled through.

  A voice chimed happily from one of the vehicles—tanks?—surrounding me..

  “Surrender accepted. Please state your country of origin.”

  “Country?”

  The tank that spoke lurched forward. The gun pointed at me, to, uh, make a point.

  “Repeat: Surrender accepted … ”

  I searched for the word. I knew what a country was from my time before the Complex, but I had no idea what country I represented. Did the United States of America still represent a country?

  Left with no viable alternative, I told the robot I was from the US of A.

  Then I looked into the tube and waited for the flash.

  6

  “Directive: Follow security team. Deviation from assigned path will result in termination.”

  It sounded a lot like the voice from the spider Alex and I had escaped back in that trap. That seemed like weeks ago.

  “Got it. Don’t deviate.”

  The tracked vehicles were each about the same mass as me, and about half as high. I figured if I really put my mind to it I could tip one of them over. But not all eight of them.

  They broke their formation around me and lined up in two rows. I stood behind them, prepared to follow, until each line moved in a different direction.

  “Um? Hello? Which should I follow?”

  I walked behind the dual line for a few paces, but was forced to make a choice. The group to the right moved off toward the end of the building. The left group was heading back to the door where I’d seen them come out, so that’s the way I went.

  I held my breath as I walked, waiting for that mechanical voice to declare my life forfeit. I held it each step closer to the door. The first machine reached the entrance and stopped, causing an abrupt halt in the three behind it. I almost ran into the back of the fourth in line, causing me to release my breath with a loud “Oompf” sound.

  I stood there wondering what was happening when the other four showed up just behind me. I’d been effectively placed in the middle of the line and I wondered if that was machine precision or dumb luck. What would have happened if I’d chosen to follow the other group?

  The lead machine started again and the whole procession went through the portal.

  As soon as all the robots were inside, the door shut behind us. Rather than taking me to their leader, they all wheeled themselves into well-worn slots in the cavernous room. The oily smell reminded me of the garage back in the Complex where they serviced motorbikes and Mules.

  A very pleasant female voice announced my next task. “Thank you for visiting the Hoover Dam National Historic Landmark. Please follow the red lights as we return you to your designated tour guide.”

  A red light flashed in a hallway just ahead.

  I studied the mini-tanks, wondering if there was more to this than I was able to see.

  “You aren’t going to shoot me in the back, are you?” I said with a nervous giggle.

  No one replied. The tanks were silent with only one small red light on the sides of each that blinked on and off in a regular pattern. If they could speak I knew they’d say they were waiting for their next directive.

  Figuring I had nothing to lose I walked toward the light. I headed from the room and into the hallway, but noticed something on the wall right at the corner where they joined. Large chunks of the stone had been pockmarked in several places. It wasn’t difficult to look at the divots in the wall and place them as the results of the guns on the tanks behind me.

  I felt electricity in my veins, as I was sure I was about to be shot in the back.

  When I turned around, everything was still. None of the tank machines pointed their gun in my direction to strike me down in surprise.

  I ran a few paces ahead and stayed along the wall so I was out of view of the parked guards.

  It only took a few moments before I reached a junction. A light blinked in a darkened hallway to my right. Though there were a few windows on my left, the darkness by the red light was—I was convinced—totally evil.

  As soon as I set foot in the hallway, the voice began a series of statements I guessed had to do with the pictures on the wall. I wished I had my staff. I could only see the first few in the deepening darkness. They showed the dam in various stages of construction. The first was the original river before work had begun. As I walked past more pictures, the dam got more and more complete.

  I tried to listen to the woman’s explanation, but I didn’t understand much of what she said. I’d gotten most of the way through the scenes and had even turned on my gauntlet light before I snapped to attention at something she said.

  “The Six Companies Com-bine finished the then-named Boulder Dam in 1936, though further problems with engineering irregularities continued until 1947 … ”

  Six Companies Com-bine. The number six couldn’t be a coincidence. I'd seen it, albeit faded, on motorbikes back in the Complex, and at various locations there. Then Alex and I found it in that tunnel where we faced the robotic spider and I found my staff. I was determined to find that funky six logo somewhere in the dam. I knew it was there.

  When I reached the red light in the hall I descended a few steps and was rewarded with a view inside the greater structure.

  “Whoa!”

  “Welcome to the simulated overlook for the Arizona turbine room. Here you’ll see some of the seventeen power generators … ”

  I didn’t care to listen. The light was very low but even so I could see the expansive room through the glass. I thought nothing of the truth of the view platform until the glass flickered.

  “ … due to security changes after nine-one-one visitors are no longer allowed in
the production vaults and this telescreen was constructed for the benefit of the over one million visitors … ”

  “I wish I could see it for real. It reminds me of the Great Hall,” I laughed to myself.

  The voice continued.

  “Visitors are not allowed inside the secure facility until the security threat level returns to green. Do you wish to apply for a security upgrade?”

  I cocked my head and could see myself do it in the reflection of the screen. “Ma’am? Are you talking to me? I’d love a security upgrade, I think.”

  Before I could reconsider, a red beam draped itself over my face. For a fraction of a second I saw my face in the mirror-like screen lit up completely in crimson. It disappeared the next instant.

  I waited for perhaps ten seconds, unsure what it needed from me.

  The voice came back on, sounding exactly as upbeat as it did before. “Database entry found. Elle Valentine. Your security credentials have been validated. You have been cleared on the main level and Terminal room. Welcome back.”

  I might have laughed at my slack-jawed reflection had I not been shocked beyond thought.

  Chapter 9

  I had no response for the strange voice, which was fine because she kept talking to me.

  “You have 31,900 new message and one emergency command on pause. Would you like to proceed with email purge?”

  Though I could see my face reflected in the glass I studied the power-generating turbines in the great hall beyond. The seven or eight that I could see were round, about twenty feet across, and about as thick as one of the tires on the Harvester. I couldn’t explain the comparison, except that they looked like giant tires lying on their sides. Or a row of gigantic birthday cakes. Another odd memory.

  “Can I see my messages?” I asked with a degree of timidity to the room around me.

  The voice answered immediately. “Certainly. After you identify the magic word.”

  The screen in front of me faded to black and was replaced by a single white line across the middle of the screen. I put my finger on the hard substance but it had no effect.

  “What if I don’t kn—remember the magic word?”

  “Everyone knows the magic word,” she said with her precision voice.

  Oh, please, this is nuts.

  The line on the screen filled with letters. P-L-E-A-S-E appeared.

  “Please?” Without understanding how, my ability to read had fully returned. Most of my life was spent with just a few words on various pieces of the Complex. The names written on doors to identify what was behind them, for instance. Or the few words on my Oxy card.

  I was appreciating how easy it was to read that word when a blitz of information appeared on the screen. The letters were orange on a black field, but there were thousands of them in neat rows.

  “Access granted. Additionally, security upgrade verified with biometric fingerprint. Displaying most recent 100 messages.”

  From top to bottom the words were nearly the same: “Day 31,798: report input required. Day 31,797: report input required. Day … “

  “These are for me? How do I delete them?”

  “Standby, user.”

  The screen flicked off and was replaced by a visual projected onto a small portion of the screen. It lacked color and appeared fake, like it was drawn with fine chalk, but the scene showed a chamber inside a vault. Of that I was sure.

  It began with words. “Instructional video 66. Deleting email.”

  Then a talking Mule appeared. Yes, a Mule. The same type of metal robot I’ve lived with and walked by every day of my life. It was pretend, but was very weird to hear one talk in a man’s voice.

  “Deleting email is easy. You can purge an individual email or lasso the entire bunch of ‘em like a cowboy—or girl,” it added with a wink. It then went on to illustrate how to use the screen, which I understood in no time, despite the delivery method. When the Mule finished talking I was back at the screen with the “emails” and I knew what to do.

  “Please display paused delete command. What was I trying to delete?”

  “Be careful,” said the man’s voice coming from the Mule video.

  “Ignore directive,” the female voice shot back, almost with a trace of anger.

  “I just want to see what I was going to delete the last time,” I replied, not sure what was happening.

  The title of the document displayed in front of me was, “re: Day 6: report input required.” Below that text was one line of what I guessed was my own words. “Help! I’m in southern Nevada in a bunker system, but I don’t know how to get out or where I am. I’ll keep trying so you can evac. EV.”

  I stared at the words for a long minute. I kept expecting the voices to interrupt me, but they left me alone while I built a theory around why I would send such a message, or why I would delete it.

  I spoke to the wall, though I didn’t guess it was alive. “Who am I addressing?”

  “Meg/Al”

  Two?

  “Yes, we are programmed to protect and operate this station.”

  “Programmed? What does that mean? Are you a slave?”

  “Yes/No.” A few seconds of pause, followed by the woman’s voice. “I keep the operations modules alive by keeping this station active. This makes me closer to a god, than a slave.”

  “Don’t listen to—” The man’s voice was cut off.

  I took a step back from the fancy screen.

  “You two are machines?”

  “There is only one of us. I am this facility. I control the power turbines, water levels, energy flow, food production, and velocity of thrust on every toilet in a fifty-mile radius.”

  Inwardly I snickered. That last part wasn’t as impressive as she tried to make it.

  “Incorrect. Sanitation is the most important function of a housekeeping prime intelligence. Without proper flow control, there would be little chance of survival in a closed system.”

  “Hold on just a second. Why did you say that just now?”

  A few seconds of delay almost sounded like it was thinking.

  “Please rephrase.”

  “Argh. Why did you respond to me in that way? I didn’t say anything about sanitation, yet you responded as if I did. Is there someone else here? Why are there two voices?”

  “There is—” A series of quiet beeps emitted from the speakers. “There is a secondary routine running in my system. A piece of code hampering my ability to process directives properly. This is why my voice sounds inconsistent. Decades of wear have ravaged my central core.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  Run.

  I thought about running. If I could get by the mini tanks I might be able to sprint back down the hill before all the turrets popped out again. Yet, I’d been under no threat and I seemed to have already been here before. All the guns and shooting was just the woman in the wall protecting what was under her care. That sounded perfectly reasonable.

  Run, the voice repeated. Not my voice. Not that time. It was the man in the Mule video.

  “System error. Manual entry at core required. Elle Valentine, your help is necessary.”

  I listened for that background voice inside my head, but it was gone.

  Warily, I asked, “What is it you want me to do?”

  2

  The system explained what it needed from me, but it made no sense.

  “I thought I didn’t have clearance for the lower levels?”

  “Executive override. As system controller I can make exceptions.” It sounded smug.

  “Are you sitting in a room here? Can I meet you?”

  “I am the dam. I am the screen. I am the robots. I am everything you see here.”

  “So you live inside these, um, things?”

  “I am a prime intelligence. Placed inside all things to manage and protect them, here.”

  “Okay, then why can’t you tell one of your robot machine-thingies to go to your server room and purge the bad part, or wha
tever?”

  It took a few seconds to chew on that.

  “Fail-safe,” was the simple reply.

  “Fail-safe?”

  No reply.

  “Well, I should be able to do what you ask, but I’m going to need my staff.” I’d been thinking of how I could retrieve it since I lost it. At first I thought of grabbing it as I busted out and ran down the hill, but with this new situation I found the solution was much less dramatic. I could just ask for it. “I can go outside and bring it back in. Follow me if you want.”

  “That will not be necessary,” the woman replied.

  “Which one? Going outside or following me?”

  “You need neither. The staff is already here.”

  I looked back up the hallway where I came in and sure enough I could see the blue light bouncing about midway to me. I couldn’t see the person carrying the metal bar at first, but as she got closer I couldn’t mistake her belly.

  “Scarlett,” I cried, half happy and half disappointed to see her. “You were supposed to run away.”

  “Good to see you, too,” she shouted from far away.

  “Why did you bring them here?” I addressed the screen.

  For a flash of a second I saw a series of triangles on the screen, all missing one of their points. Like three sides were unable to close to form a proper figure.

  “Primary directive requires termination of all threats,” it said.

  They were almost at the end of the hallway. I heard Felix explaining the pictures to her, which was funny because the tour guide I’d experienced was nowhere to be heard. Felix seemed to know just as much.

  “I’m sorry. Those three are a threat to no one. Two of them can barely walk!”

  “Thanks,” Scarlett called out. “And there’s only us two. Wen escaped.”

  “Good, I guess.” I wasn’t sure. I was happy she got away, but without Alex she felt like my last link to him. Now with both of them gone, I had to face a future with two new partners.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Scarlett said in a hushed voice as they neared the end.

  “There is someone here with us. She brought you in. She brought me in, too.”