by J. V. Kade
A couple of kids laugh somewhere down the hall. Cyber-tech music blares through speakers. The tick-tick-whoom of the music vibrates through the floor.
“Are you part of the Meta-Rise?” I ask.
Dad doesn’t even skip a beat. “I am.”
“Can I be?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Dad!”
“Trout!” he singsongs back. “Being part of the Rise is more than just believing in something. It’s putting your life at risk and I will not allow my twelve-year-old son to risk his life. You’ve already done enough just by getting here.”
I cross my arms in front of myself. “You’re just gearing out because you think I’m still a kid. You and Po both. I’m not a kid anymore.”
A sigh wheezes past Dad’s lips. “I know, but that doesn’t mean I want you putting yourself in danger for something you might not understand yet. I’ve gone to great lengths to make sure you and Po are not labeled bot supporters and enemies of the Districts. I only wish that could have remained.”
I tighten my hands into fists. “What you mean is you wish I was still living my fake life in the Districts thinking you were dead.”
Dad shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Everything back there was totally notched, Dad. I hated every single day of my life.” I let out a breath. An inferno builds in my throat, like I might start spewing fire at any second. I’m just so frustrated with everyone treating me like a little kid. And I’m annoyed that anyone would think keeping me in the dark was a good thing. Because it’s not. Because it’s totally cracked. I hate liars. And I hate lies. And I hate people thinking I’m not old enough to do important stuff.
A beeping noise sounds from Dad’s chest. He looks down at the glowing light where his heart should be. “I have to go. Have to charge up. LT will show you to your room.” He comes around the table and wraps an arm around my neck from behind. He gives me a half hug and kisses the top of my head like he used to when I really was a little kid.
Now it just makes me feel lame and silly.
“I’m glad you’re here.” He pats my shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”
But not enough, I think, as his footsteps thud away. If he missed me, he should have done everything in his power to come get me.
TWENTY-ONE
LT SHOWS UP exactly 1.3 seconds after Dad leaves the dining room. And as soon as he sees me hunched in my chair, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, he says, “Is it safe to assume the conversation did not go as you planned?”
I shove my chair away. “Dad still thinks I’m a baby.”
“I highly doubt that is the case, considering you do not wear diapers and eat from a bottle.”
I start to laugh, and then remember I’m mad. It turns into a snort instead. “It’s just stupid.” I follow LT down a hallway, through a living room, and down another hallway. We don’t cross paths with a single person. It’s like everyone just up and disappeared.
“Are you part of the Meta-Rise?” I ask when LT finally stops at a closed door.
He turns to face me. “I suppose in some respects I am. Though I do not serve on the front lines of the movement.”
“So what do you do?”
LT pushes open the door. “Right now I am in charge of you. Your friend, should you need one.”
I frown. “Babysitter is what you mean.”
“Hardly. I would consider myself more of a bodyguard.”
I shove my hands in my pants pockets and wander into the room LT revealed behind the closed door. “I’m not sure bodyguard is any better. It’s like a word used in place of babysitter.”
“Tanner Waylon uses bodyguards and they serve a very good purpose.”
I turn around and face LT still standing in the doorway. “The pop star? He’s a drain—”
“Clogger,” LT finishes for me. “So I have heard.”
I finally look at the room we’re in. It’s located in a tower in the back of the building, so the room is a half circle with windows overlooking the tiny backyard. A bed takes up one wall and a vid panel hangs across from it. There’s a vid controller on the nightstand.
I do a circle in the middle of the room, taking it all in. “Wow. This is bigger than my room at home. Like twice the size.”
“It is the best room in the building. It was your father’s. When he heard you were on your way here, he moved into a smaller room to give you this one.”
I stop. “Really?”
“Yes.” LT glides forward. “Your father is very happy you are here. I know it might be hard to believe that, considering all the secrecy and the concerns for your safety, but he is only being a father.”
There’s a big bench beneath the row of windows, so I go there and climb up on my knees, looking out at the city. The sun blazes from its high perch in the sky. The hover rails look almost silver in the daylight. This place is different than Brack, but it’s the same too, in some ways. My dad lives here, which makes it automatically feel like home. I can see myself staying here for good. Knowing what I know about Bot Territory and the United Districts, I’m not sure I’d ever want to live there again.
They were lying to us about the bots, but why?
“Hey LT, were you alive when the Bot Wars started?”
“I was.”
“I know what the UD wants me to believe, but why do you think it started?”
“I know precisely why it started. There is no contemplation or speculation about it.”
“Then why?”
“In its infancy, it was a labor dispute. After the government created the Machinery Tax and Labor Law, robots were worked until broken because the more they worked, the more product a manufacturer had, and the more taxes the government collected on machine labor. So you see, robot owners were benefitting, the government was benefitting, but the machines themselves became workhorses with no rights at all.”
He looks over at me with his almost-human eyes. “Have you heard of the ThinkChip?”
I nod. “We learned about them in history class last year. They were made by some scientist and put into all robots so they could feel and understand human emotions.”
“That is correct. Humans made us more like them, but when we became too much like them, they realized it was not what they wanted after all.
“We eventually went on strike and asked for more rights. The government countered. They said they would agree to fairer labor laws if all ThinkChips were removed. We may be made of metal, but we are not stupid. We knew the chips were our only link to human emotion and organic thought. So when we resisted, the government twisted the facts around so that it appeared we were turning against our owners and plotting a takeover. From there, it spiraled out of control.”
LT looks down and shakes his head. “That was not our intention at all. We just wanted to be treated fairly.
“We are not simply machines anymore. We are so much more than that.”
All the robots I’ve met so far have been totally different, like humans, each with their own personalities and opinions. They all look different too. I believe what LT says.
I turn around and sit on my butt on the bench. “The UD has been exaggerating the evil robots conspiracy this whole time.”
LT holds up his hand. “Well, yes, but for the most part, I understand their fear. We are treading on new ground and no one knows what to expect. A war is a war, no matter who is fighting it. It is human nature to protect what is theirs and to keep their loved ones safe.”
I set my chin in my hand. I know that all too well. Po is always so protective, nagging me all the time. But deep down, we’d do anything for each other. Anything.
And I think LT would too. He risked his life to save me in the UD. That’s major.
“I’m glad you still have your
ThinkChip,” I say, and rap my knuckles against his arm. “I like you this way, metal brain.”
LT sighs. “You were with Dekker approximately five hours and have already adopted his ridiculous sense of humor.” His head swivels back and forth. “I will leave you now, but if you need anything, feel free to call me on the intercom.”
Just before he walks out the door I yell out to him. “Hey, LT!” He turns around. “I really do like you. You’re totally wrenched.”
He goes still as he looks the word up on his database. “Wrenched is modern slang for cool or awesome or swell. I will take it. Thank you. You are totally wrenched too.”
He shuts the door behind him and I’m left there trying to remember a time when people said “swell” instead of “wrenched.”
TWENTY-TWO
I FIND THE MEDIA room the next morning on my way up to the third floor. It’s this big room with exposed ducts and pipes in the ceiling. There’s a gigantic vid panel and full media center in front of a U-shaped couch. Beanbags sit in front of the couch, the centers mashed down from whoever sat in them last.
I crane my neck and look up, and then nearly fall over at what I see. There are rope bridges running all over in a maze. One bridge runs to a landing backed by a row of windows. Another bridge disappears through a doorway. Yet another bridge leads to an iron landing where comfy-looking chairs are pushed against the wall.
This place looks more and more like a true fort every day.
I decide to come back later and hurry to the elevators. When I finally arrive at the command center, the light in Dad’s chest is glowing blue and blinking like the navi lights on an airplane.
“There he is,” Dad says, and lets out a sigh. “I was just about to send LT on a search and rescue. Where were you?”
“I got lost.”
“There’s an intercom in every room.”
“Sorry.” I shrug. I guess some things never change. I still get yelled at. And Dad still does the yelling. “I didn’t think about calling. Po and I don’t have intercoms, you know. We just shout through the house.”
LT comes forward. “Of course, we knew you were safe. The house registered your presence. Unfortunately, it had no idea where you were. A terrible side effect of the recent accidental pulsar blast. The sensors are out of sync.” He looks across the room at Scissor, who pretends to push buttons in her arm panel while whistling innocently.
Just behind Dad, I notice a few people and a bot I haven’t met yet. Dad introduces them one by one. Jules. Parker. Ratch. Cole.
Cole isn’t much older than Po, but he looks nothing like my brother. His muscles are bigger than my head, and tattoos wind up and around his arms. Three horizontal laser implants glow beneath the skin at the bridge of his nose. I wouldn’t mess with him even if you paid me.
Jules is Dad’s age, I think. She’s the thin woman I saw manning the central computer yesterday. Her eyes are big and blue and her skin is shimmery copper brown, like she’s glowing from the inside out.
She’s wearing a black tank top and black jeans and laced black combat boots. A set of military tags hangs from a ball chain around her neck along with a scrambler. Her high ponytail swings behind her as she shakes my hand.
Parker stands near enough to Dad that I instantly think bodyguard or best friend. If it’s bodyguard, I don’t think he’ll make a very good one. He’s the smallest guy in the room, both in height and weight. Like you could knock him over with a burp. A swoop of bright red hair sticks up from his forehead and a silver stud pierces his left eyebrow.
And then the robot.
He’s nothing like the other bots I’ve met. He’s as tall as LT with a face of clear silicone and a glowing orange band where his eyes should be. The rest of him is made of a flat black metal that seems to absorb the light instead of reflect it.
“Ratch,” he says, and offers me his hand.
I stare at it for probably too long. LT’s hands look like hands but are made of metal. Ratch’s hands are just long spindly fingers of gears and bars. Like he once had an exterior layer that he ripped off.
“Pleasure to meet you.” He smiles and his silicone mouth stretches over a jaw of metal.
He’s totally wrenched. And scary. And I can’t decide if I should like him or run away screaming.
I finally shake his hand. “Nice to meet you too. You’re the other bot that saved my dad, right?”
He nods. “I am.”
“Well, thanks. Thanks for saving him.”
“No need to thank me.” He steps back, putting him shoulder to shoulder with Cole.
“I consider these people my closest friends,” Dad says. “And that includes LT, Scissor, and Ratch.”
Scissor’s LED panel lights up bright red and her audience cheers.
Cole shakes his head.
“All right.” Dad crosses his arms over his chest. “LT, you have a report for us?”
LT steps forward. “While in Fifth District, I gathered as much information as I could. Po is being held at the moment in City Hall. I do not believe they plan to move him. At least not yet. And secondly, I believe the UD is planning an attack. I wasn’t able to decipher when or where, exactly.”
Dad swears and turns away from us, running his robotic hand through his hair. “Parker, what chance do we have of retrieving Po?”
Parker squares his shoulders. “We can get into the UD easily enough. It’s getting into the building that’ll be the hard part.”
“I know how we get in,” Ratch says. “Blow a hole in the side of the building.”
Dad sighs as he turns back around. “While that may be effective, it’s not going to help our cause. And we risk harming innocent people.”
“No one in that building is innocent.”
I think of Tanith, the woman in the Heart Office. She’s nice. And she doesn’t deserve to get hurt.
“Let’s not be rash. Parker, can you start working on a route?”
Parker says, “I’m on it,” and disappears inside the office below the loft.
Dad puts his hands on the edge of the central desk and leans over. “What else do we have?”
I clear my throat and everyone looks at me. “Um . . . I don’t know if it will help or anything, but Po called me right before I bolted. He called to warn me and someone was there with him.”
“It’s worth taking a look.” Dad glances at Jules.
“I don’t have my Link anymore,” I say.
“That’s all right.” Jules drops into a computer chair. “I can hack into the system and replay your last phone call.”
“You can do that?”
“Don’t repeat this,” Dad says, “but Jules is one of the best hackers on the planet.”
“One of the best?” Jules says over a shoulder. “The Best. Better than Dekker. Even though he’d probably argue that.” She hits a few more commands on the board and cues up my last call on the big screen. An image of Po blinks on, his face frozen in pause mode. A lump of guilt wedges in my chest. I was a total lame-o to him right before he left that day.
With his face blown up to fit the screen, I see he was sweating big-time and his eyes were bloodshot when he called. I don’t know if that means he was angry, or that he’d been crying. I don’t want to know.
The call replays. I watch it closely, looking for any clues I didn’t notice the first time around when things went nuclear.
“RUN!” Po says, and his words dig into my bones like splinters. I cringe but can’t look away. Something crunches. The table slams against the floor. Po lashes out. My hands tighten into fists and an arm comes into view on the screen—the arm of Po’s attacker.
And that’s when I notice it. The watch on the man’s arm, a watch I know I’ve seen before.
“That’s Tellie Rix’s dad,” I say. “The
night I left the UD, he was wearing an Ionex watch with a bronze band. I don’t know why I didn’t figure it out then.” Maybe because I was geared out of my mind.
“Rix.” Cole snaps his fingers. “That the congressman?”
My stomach plummets to my toes as I nod. I feel sick. My mouth goes dry as sandpaper. Mr. Rix saw me in his house just hours after attacking my brother.
Does Tellie know what her dad did?
The call ends and the screen blackens. I lean against one of the support columns and tip my head back. Did Tellie betray me? Did the patrolmen show up so fast because she called them? Or maybe her parents called?
I try to think of all the ways she’s helped me. If it hadn’t been for that vid, I wouldn’t be here with Dad. And Tellie was the one who packed me a bag and tried to help me escape. That had to count for something.
“Hey.” Dad comes over. “You all right?”
I’m ten million shades away from all right. I want my brother back. I want everyone safe.
“Scissor?” Dad calls. “Why don’t you show Trout around town? Take him to Janolli’s. Put it on my tab.”
“I’m not leaving,” I say.
“We’ve got some stuff to work out. It’s pretty boring stuff.” He gives me his best Dad look, which is a combination of frowny eyes and a be-a-good-sport head tilt. “Besides, you look like you could use a break, and Janolli’s makes the best ice cream in town.”
“Ooooh,” Scissor’s audience track says. “Ahhh.”
“Scissor?” Cole says, craning his big neck around. “Is that really necessary?”
Scissor ignores Cole and sidles up next to me. “We will have barrels full of fun, Trout. That is my promise to you.”
Ice cream. Like ice cream will somehow make it better. Well, it won’t. It didn’t make things better when Dad was missing, when my worst fear was that he was dead. And it won’t help now that my brother is in trouble.
