Rounding the towering volcanic mass, a long strip of concrete came into view, which fed directly into the side of a sprawling structure reminiscent of a military bunker. What the hell was this building, a tremendous grey square wedged into the side of the mountain? It looked like the sort of place one might take shelter in during a nuclear holocaust. Surely Aderhold Corp's R&D facilities weren't so sterile and austere as all this?
The plane touched down on the landing strip, bobbed slightly on its gears and screeched to a halt. It'd been a nice plane, a cozy flight. Silvio had been the sole passenger, save for a middle-aged flight attendant who'd kept his cup full of sparkling mineral water and his belly full of fancy assorted nuts. He'd inquired once or twice over having a soda instead, perhaps a beer, but the stewardess had proven remarkably strict about what she was willing to offer him, citing some restriction on caffeinated or alcoholic beverages. She'd reminded him, with all the kindness she could muster, that this wasn't a pleasure flight, and that the guys signing her paychecks didn't want him to arrive hyper or inebriated. As the jet rolled to a stop, Silvio took one last look around and then stood up, stretching his legs for the first time in several hours. His current surroundings were likely the last vestige of luxury he was going to enjoy for the next three months, if the imposing complex outside was any indication. He thanked the stewardess as he disembarked and made his way down the ramp, onto the landing strip that led into what looked to be a hangar.
The air outside was chill, autumn-like, and the smell that rolled in from the desolate plains brought with it an almost overwhelming earthiness. He shoved his hands into his pockets, carried his duffel bag over one shoulder and started along the landing strip towards the mouth of the building before him, where a small, bespectacled man could be seen to wait. The entire affair up to this point had been glaringly impersonal; no one had told him a thing about what he was doing and he'd been forced to spend the duration of his flight almost entirely alone. Hell, the pilot had never once shown his face. To see this hunched man, probably sixty or so years in age, ambling about the entrance gave Silvio a small thrill. Finally, someone to talk to, to get answers from. The nature of this job was still rather vague to him. The sooner he learned the specifics, the better.
But before he could introduce himself to the man or shake his hand, something caught Silvio's eye in the far corner of the yawning hangar.
Inside, attached to coils of black and red wires, was something like an enormous man. Its body was built of metal, extremely polished. Its legs descended into a cavity in the concrete floor so that it was only visible from the waist up, and yet how massive it was, the top of its metallic head very nearly touching the open skylight in the ceiling. The construct must have been a few hundred feet tall, at least. Silvio struggled to figure out what it was; the thing was so alien, so unlike anything he'd ever seen before except in science fiction. Eventually, though, he understood the sum of these impressive parts.
He was looking at something like a robot. A giant robot.
Silvio stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the thing for close to a minute, glancing incredulously at the hunched man who now grinned before him. After a time, he stumbled out of his trance and pointed up at the hulking thing. “I've just gotta ask... what the hell is that thing?”
The man, straightening himself and pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his porous nose, gave a small laugh. “You're Mr. Echegaray, I take it?” He turned to the machine, regarding it cooly as though it were the commonest of sights. “You'll know all about that, first-hand, soon enough.” Taking Silvio very gently by the arm, he guided him through the hangar, towards a small doorway leading deeper into the complex.
All the while, Silvio couldn't look away.
He was transfixed by the utter enormity of the thing, by its brilliant appearance. It was so perfectly symmetrical, not at all boxy or clumsy-looking like so many robots he'd seen before in the news. This thing looked to be from a completely different time, from a foreign world, leagues more advanced than anything he'd ever laid eyes on. It appeared life-like in its way, boasting a well-shaped head, and long arms, tipped in perfect, jointed fingers. It was like a giant man, Goliath, wearing a suit of glimmering armor. Was this the kind of thing he'd been brought on to tinker with? If the bespectacled man's words were to be believed, that was indeed the case. Silvio giggled to himself as they passed out of the hangar and into a long, dim hallway. He felt suddenly like a kid in a candy store. Giant robots? he thought. That more than makes up for the lack of palm trees around here.
It reminded him of one of those artist's mannequins, used for capturing certain poses. Its extremities, though human-shaped, were rounded in their corners like the knobby wooden limbs of those dolls, and its face was very much the same, an orb of highly polished metal bereft of any mark or expression. A giant, metallic doll. It wore no symbols, bore no artistic flourishes from its creators, but stood in a natural, elegant state. The bare, cold metal was undeniably alluring, lending it the look of something both handsome and efficient. Form and function, all rolled into one chrome-colored package.
The guide introduced himself as Horace Starr, director of the Aderhold R&D complex. Leading Silvio down the hallway, which seemed hideously narrow and cold when compared to the yawning expanse of the hangar they'd just left, he started into a brief spiel, prattling on in a croaking tone of voice that bespoke a few decades of chain smoking. “Welcome, I'll show you to your quarters so that you can set down your things. Yes, this is the headquarters of Aderhold Corporation's robotics department, just two years old now, and we're doing many exciting things here. Things that no one else is doing. Mr. Aderhold has poured a lot of money into the research and development of cutting-edge technologies, and we're thrilled to have you onboard. This complex is built into the side of an active volcano, Hekla. This remote location lends itself well to our researches, keeping out the prying eyes of competitors and allowing us a place to work without the distractions of, shall we say, more picturesque locales.” Reaching the end of the hall, a heavy metal door was pushed aside, leading to another corridor, wider but no less uninviting. This, in turn, opened into a wide hall lined in doors.
“So, what am I going to be doing here, exactly?” asked Silvio, glancing around at the cold concrete walls. “No one's really told me that yet.”
Horace nodded emphatically, selecting one of the doors and motioning to the room on its other side. “Your quarters.” He cleared his throat and then continued in his grating tone. “You'll be briefed on all of that shortly. Mr. Aderhold has brought you on to work with ARTEMIS, seems to believe you'll make a great fit.”
ARTEMIS. Though he couldn't say for certain, Silvio felt somehow sure that this was the name given to the hulking metallic construct in the hangar. “That robot, you mean?”
Horace nodded, motioning again into the room and urging him to cast off his bag of belongings.
Silvio stepped into the room and set his duffel bag on the firm-looking bed. The space seemed more of a jail cell than an employee's quarters, but he tried not to fixate too much on his surroundings. A bright fluorescent fixture glowed from the low ceiling, highlighting the spartan trappings. A weathered wooden trunk at the foot of the bed. Starchy bedclothes. A mirror, sink. Toilets, he was told, were located in a communal bathroom down the hall. Showers, too.
With little pretense, Horace reached in and closed the door upon ushering Silvio back out into the main hall. From there, he led him through another door, into another claustrophobia-inducing corridor, and into a small terminating chamber marked with a single door. It was an imposing entrance, a door some several feet across and studded with heavy-duty bolts. It could be opened solely through the swiping of a card on a lanyard through a beefy-looking, wall-mounted card reader, which Horace handed to Silvio at the high-pitched squeal of the locking mechanism. This door slid open to reveal a laboratory.
“This way, please,” said Horace, leading him inside. The door closed behi
nd them with a hiss and a dense metallic noise, as of bolts sliding into concrete.
Silvio made his way across the lab, finding it a large, concrete space lined in desks, computers and foreign-looking diagnostic equipment. A handful of people in corporate casual milled about, either oblivious to or altogether uninterested in his entrance. Across the way were a pair of enormous windows, which looked out upon the hangar through which Silvio had first entered the complex. Caught squarely at the center of said windows was the shining metallic head of that machine. “ARTEMIS,” he said, rushing over to the window and appraising it with wide-eyed wonder.
A few lab workers glanced up at him with a sort of disdain, rolling their eyes. Giant robots, to them, were apparently pedestrian, unworthy of child-like admiration. Silvio paid them no mind, pacing this way and that, pawing at the windows till his breath left them fogged up.
Horace clapped his veiny hands together and rolled up the sleeves of his blue dress shirt. “Everyone, this is Silvio Echegaray, our new test pilot. Please, make him feel at home here.”
Test pilot. Silvio liked the sound of that. He liked it a hell of a lot, as a matter of fact. “Test pilot? You mean to tell me I get to go inside that thing?” He pointed excitedly through the window, his dark eyes alight.
A woman working at a nearby computer glanced up and smirked at Horace. “Another one, huh? What does he want on his tombstone?”
Horace frowned. “That'll be enough of that.”
At this exchange, Silvio tempered his excitement. “What now? Is this thing dangerous?”
No one answered his question.
Following Horace around the lab, Silvio was introduced to a number of the robotics staff. The head of the ARTEMIS project, Dr. Gerald Conway, was a tall man of middle age. His black hair was closely shaven, and his temples had begun to turn a greyish white. He wore a lab coat and kept his head high at all times, in a sort of arrogant posture. His sparing introduction cemented this impression. He introduced himself as the leader of the project, the designer of the ARTEMIS unit, and then returned promptly to his furious typing, all without once looking at Silvio.
The next team member he was introduced to was Dr. Kimberly Deal, a medical doctor, and she proved a good deal more kindly than Conway had been. Shaking his hand, she explained her role. “I'm just here to make sure you stay safe during the testing.” Safe from what, in particular, she declined to say, however it was becoming abundantly clear to Silvio that there was something not a little dangerous about this job and that he would need a whole team of researchers behind him in order to remain protected from it. She thanked him for joining up and said she looked forward to working with him, but in her green eyes there twinkled something like keen interest. It was the look of morbid curiosity a mad scientist gives a chimp before injecting it with a brain-eating pathogen, probably.
Lastly, Silvio was introduced to the one person in the lab wearing casual clothing, a young, quiet fellow by the name of Emil Holtz. His role was that of mechanic, and he certainly looked the part. Well over six feet tall and stoic, he wore a pair of denim overalls stained in black oil. His massive hands were ruddy, rough, and dotted in cuts and burns. The handkerchief sticking out of his pocket was marred with oil. He said nothing, but offered his hand to shake. Horace filled in the conversational gaps that the silent, brown-haired youth left. “Emil here was a child prodigy, winner of countless robotics competitions. He is responsible for repairing and maintaining the ARTEMIS unit. As dependable as they come. Though,” he added as they built some distance between themselves and the quiet mechanic, “he isn't much for conversation.”
Silvio's impression of these three, the three he would be working with most closely, was lukewarm. None seemed much interested in him except as a test subject, as a means to an end. These studious, professional types were always like that, but somehow he'd expected a little more warmth than this.
Then again, recalling the desolate Icelandic landscape, this was probably the last place on Earth he could expect anything like friendliness.
“So, uh, what's this all about, then? I get to actually... go inside of that thing?” asked Silvio. He still couldn't quite believe it, the sight outside the panoramic windows almost too wild to imagine. “It's a giant robot, like something out of Ultraman.”
Horace stuck out a single finger in reproach. “Now, now, Silvio, this isn't fiction. This is real, this is science.” His eyes lit up and he crossed his arms, launching into a speech that seemed more like the recitation of some exciting myth. “ARTEMIS is unlike anything else in the field of robotics-- unlike any other scientific breakthrough to date. It is, in a word, revolutionary. That descriptor is often overused, I grant you, but in the case of ARTEMIS it is not strong enough a word. The strides made in creating ARTEMIS will change the world, literally. The applications of this technology cannot be overstated. Why, in the course of just one year, we've moved out of the prototype stage and created a fully-functioning machine in keeping with Dr. Conway's vision.” He waxed poetic a while longer, discussing the thousands of hours that went into its design, the hurdles they'd overcome, and the visionary nature of Dr. Conway's design. “There were some challenges along the way, it is true, and early test pilots were put at considerable risk, however that time is passed and I am pleased to report that ARTEMIS is quite safe. You will indeed be piloting the thing through a number of trials, and provided you're as good a fit for the machine as Mr. Aderhold thinks, you will encounter no problems, none whatsoever.”
Conway broke away from his computer and paced over to the window, tapping on the glass as though looking to get the robot's attention. He spoke loudly, to no one in particular, but his sharp, powerful voice impelled all those within range to listen. “ARTEMIS is the harbinger of a new age. She will revolutionize medicine, warfare, robotics... the list goes on. You should feel honored to play a role in the expansion of these fields, in testing the technology that will benefit mankind more than any invention since the dawn of science itself.”
Silvio cleared his throat, feeling not a little overwhelmed. With his one good eye, he peered out at the machine, feeling suddenly inadequate. “Why did Mr. Aderhold choose me for this?” If this testing was really such a big deal, then surely the Corporation could have done better than to hire someone like him, with no scientific knowledge and only one working eye. That he'd been picked to work on something so momentous seemed a cosmic joke.
“It is best not to ask so many questions,” replied Conway, leveling his steely gaze upon Silvio for the very first time. In it Silvio sensed many things; determination, ambition, ferocity. But mixed into all of that was also the same repellant quality he'd found in Aderhold's gaze during his interview. It was unsettling, reptilian. He continued, “It is time now for your first trial.” He pointed to a door across the room, labeled EXIT.
Silvio gave a little chuckle. He was fresh off of the plane. Surely Conway was joking.
“Dr. Deal will assist you.” Conway snapped his fingers and, like a dog, the physician made her way over towards the door, where she waited for Silvio.
“A-already?” asked Silvio, apprehensive.
“You've come here to work, Mr. Echegaray,” said Conway, turning back to the nearest computer and tapping a few keys. “We begin at once.”
Slowly, Silvio started for the door, stepping into a dim stairwell and following Dr. Deal down the first of several flights. What's the damn rush? he wondered.
Dr. Deal rambled on pleasantly as they went, step-by-step, down to the hangar. “Prep will take roughly half an hour. Then, when you've been situated in the cockpit, some trials will be run. Nothing too rigorous, since you're just starting up. No need to worry.”
Entering into the hangar after a walk that seemed to take a century, Silvio shuddered. The metal titan stood before him, and he followed the doctor to a cherry picker stationed beside its towering bulk. Stepping inside, she raised the thing till they were level with the machine's chest plate. Reaching over, she to
ok firm hold of a large handle on the exterior and gave it a yank. From there, a spring-assisted mechanism took over, thrusting the chest plate up and out and revealing a spacious, wire-filled cockpit. “Welcome to ARTEMIS,” she said.
It became clear that he was expected to climb in at once. Taking one glimpse over the side of the cherry picker, he blanched. Then, slowly, he stepped over the guard rail, placed a foot upon the lower lip of the robot's cockpit to make sure it was firm, and then scrambled inside, grasping whatever he could reach for dear life.
As his hands met the polished metal of the exterior, a shiver coursed through him. It felt exactly like he'd imagined it would. Smooth, ice-cold. “So, now we have to prep, eh?” he managed, pacing before the tall, black seat before him. He looked back at the doctor, who now joined him in the cockpit and urged him into the seat.
“That's right. Sit, please.”
Silvio sat down and gulped. He hadn't even had a chance to familiarize himself with the place yet, to tour the entirety of the complex. Maybe he wouldn't even be allowed to.
Taking a seat against the plush leather, he eyed the panels of controls, the wires hanging all about him like black vines.
Visions of the concrete complex faded from his mind's eye. He knew instinctively that he'd be spending precious little time wandering through it.
The bulk of his time would be spent right here, at these controls.
Dr. Deal sported a little grin. “Ready?”
“As I'm going to get,” he said. “Let's get started.”
10
“Preparation” was a euphemism for the hell Silvio went through before the robot even started up.
When Dr. Deal brought out the needles, Silvio thought she was kidding. No such luck. He was instructed to remove his shirt. Then, from an attendant below, a surgical tray was supplied. His back was rubbed down in something foul-smelling and then he was instructed to remain still. He knew what she was doing before the first needle pierced his flesh.
Bonecrusher: A Kaiju Thriller (The Armageddon Tetralogy Book 1) Page 6
