Bot Wars, Line Zero

by J. V. Kade

  When we emerge on the other side of the park, I see Scissor surrounded by a group of kids. “Ahhh! Trout!” she shouts when she sees me. Her front panel is black tonight with little glowing polka dots. It looks like the night sky. “Come on. I saved a set for you and Vee.”

  “A set of what?”

  Two of the hovering lights hang just over Scissor’s shoulder, shedding some light on what she’s passing out. “These are hoversuits.” She shows me a thin black strap. “You get four of these. They go on your knees and elbows.” She presses something on the strap and it hums to life, glowing blue in the center. She takes my arm and winds the strap around my elbow. “It’s like a hoverboard, but made for your entire body. The blue here”—she points at the glowing button—“that’s just like the hoverpoints on a hoverboard. Works the same. You just use your entire body to hover.”

  When I look over at Vee to ask her if this is for real, I find her fully suited up. There are straps at both elbows, at both knees, and two shoe-shaped boards on the bottom of her boots.

  “Come on, Trout! You’re gonna love this!” She runs and jumps across the sidewalk into the street like she’s diving into the deep end of a pool. The hover rails catch her before she hits the ground and she finishes the move with a somersault.

  A few other kids strap up. They follow Vee’s lead, running, jumping, hovering, skating down the street.

  Scissor straps me in and turns on the hoverpoints. My entire body vibrates with the energy. “What if the rails don’t catch me and I go splat?” I ask.

  “Never happened,” Scissor answers as she helps a tiny kid with his shoe plates.

  “That’s it? Just ‘never happened’ is your answer? There’s a first time for everything.”

  As Scissor turns to me, the joint in her neck squeaks. She winces, then: “Statistically, you’re more likely to go splat from a plane crash than you are from my hoversuits.”

  “What about traffic?”

  “We have the next six blocks sectioned off for tonight so the kids can ride safely, but if you’re not comfortable using the suits, that’s quite all right.”

  I watch the kids skating back and forth in the street. Vee leaps and twists and dances as she waits, the blue glow of the rails making her hair look purple.

  Not only have I spent almost zero time on a hoverboard, but the hoversuits look ten times harder to ride. Still, I’m not about to give up. If I can outrun the UD government and cross into Bot Territory, then I can do anything. Or at least that’s what I tell myself when I jog toward the street.

  Once I hit the sidewalk, I leap over the rails into the force field. It catches me and I hover there for a second before I totally lose my balance and slide around like I’m on ice. My feet go out from beneath me and I fall back, bouncing against the force field. I lie there suspended in midair looking straight up at the sky.

  A second later, Vee’s face pops into view with a smirk curling her lips. “Not bad for a first-timer.”

  I grimace as she holds out her hand and helps me up. It takes me a second to find my balance again, and Vee holds on to my elbow the whole time. Everyone stares at me and I have to bite down the urge to run into the trees and hide.

  A kid half my age skates past and yells, “Hey, bolt sniffer. Bet you can’t catch me!”

  Vee scowls. “Knock it off!”

  The kid laughs as he zooms around the corner.

  “Maybe I should just take them off,” I say, holding my arms out straight for balance.

  “Nu-uh.” Vee pushes a hunk of hair behind her ear. “No one’s good the first time. Just pretend you’re skating—”

  “I’ve never been skating.”

  “Then pretend you’re pushing off the ground, like you’re running a race and you’re poised at the start line. Try that.”

  I slip around once, twice. It’s like I’ve been thrown into a vat of butter. Finally, I steady myself. I put one foot behind me, feel the force field push back. With my other foot, I take a step and rush forward. I’m not ready for it and trip over my own feet, pitching forward onto my stomach.

  “If it wasn’t for the rails,” Vee shouts behind me, “you’d be eating grass right now!”

  I sigh. “I told you I wasn’t any good at this.”

  “One more try.” She helps me up. A couple of girls soar past and giggle, watching me over their shoulder. I shake my head. Vee clucks and tells me to stay focused.

  I push back again, but this time, my first step is slow, like I’m a baby learning to walk for the first time. I feel the force vibrate through my legs and I skitter forward. Hold out my arms. Find my balance. Take another step. And another. Whatever I’m doing, it looks pretty close to what the other kids are doing, even if I’m going at the pace of a rusted bot.

  “Corner!” Vee calls. “Lean into the corner.”

  When the street curves to the left, I lean. Vee speeds past me. I keep at a slower pace, but try to mimic the way her feet slice through the air.

  The road straightens. I push faster, harder. Pretty soon I’m zooming down the street, arms swinging. A hill rises in front of me. I bend at the knees like Vee, lean forward, and when we slide down the other side, it’s like we’re on a roller coaster. We blaze past shops. Past people. Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.

  Everything is a blur and a smear of color.

  Vee twists in front of me and skates backward, waving her arms in the air. Her laughter reaches me in clips of sound. She swings back around, dances, bopping up and down.

  “Wooo!” she shouts.

  I’m doing everything I can just to stay on track. So I don’t notice when Vee yells, “We’re near the end of the street. Lean back!”

  She digs in her feet, slows, and I barrel right on by.

  Buildings spring up in front of me. I scramble to the left. The park comes into view, but there are people and bots crowding around.

  “Trout!” Vee shouts. “Back! Back! Lean back!”

  I start to lean back, but it’s too late. The street ends abruptly at the park’s side entrance. I barrel over the top of the rails. The force field cuts out and I’m soaring through nothing but air.

  “Hooooollly jet smooooke!” I shout as I sail straight into the willow tree. Leaves whip me in the face and I scrabble for something to hold on to, finally catching a branch. My hands slide, tearing away leaves. I tighten my grip and manage to stop myself, only to have the branch bounce back. I lose my grip. Thud to the ground. Pain shoots up my spine. My chest aches, like I’ve been run over by a bull.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and lights blink behind my closed lids.

  “That’s not how you’re supposed to do it,” Vee says, an edge of concern in her voice.

  I peer up at her. “Yeah, I kinda figured that out.”

  “Trout?” LT kneels beside me. A red light blinks in his neck. “Hold still.”

  It takes me a second to figure out he’s scanning my body. “Heart rate is accelerated, but that is to be expected. No broken bones. Ribs are fine. No internal bleeding. No swelling of the organs. I suspect tomorrow morning you will have a few bruises, and perhaps many sore spots, but overall you are well.”

  With his help, I make it to my feet and brush the dirt and leaves from my hair. A crowd has gathered around. Some of the other kids are trying real hard not to laugh.

  Vee walks with me to the park entrance. “Maybe it’ll go better next time.”

  I rub at a sore spot on the back of my neck. “I don’t think there will be a next time.”

  “Don’t say that! That was totally split, what you did back there, ya know? Nobody takes to it the first time, not like you did.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. You just have to learn how to brake,” she adds with a laugh.

  “Ha. Ha.”

  “
Perhaps it is best if we retire to the Fort,” LT says. “You should rest.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” I turn to Vee. “Thanks for inviting me tonight.”

  “You’re welcome. Feel better.” She slaps my back before jetting off and I wince from the pain.

  “Perhaps some rest and a medi-patch,” LT adds as he walks me out. “You will be better in no time.”

  I can only hope he’s right.

  • • •

  When we’re back in the Fort, Merril tells me Dad wants to see me, so I can’t crash into bed just yet. After LT applies a medi-patch to my back, he gives me directions to Dad’s workshop in the basement (which I didn’t even know existed, and have to take the stairs to reach).

  “Hey,” Dad says after he downs a can of Life Water. “I’m just giving myself a tune-up. Come talk to me.”

  I anchor my feet just over the threshold because while I’m okay with Dad being part robot, I don’t know if I’m ready to watch him give himself a tune-up. Whatever that means.

  “Trout,” Dad says, when he realizes I haven’t moved. “Come sit down.”

  With a cringe, I slide onto the stool next to him as he crumples the can of Life Water in his machine hand. The can is nothing but a ball of aluminum when he’s done. He tosses it in the recycling bin.

  The workshop is pretty big, and I can tell Dad has made it into his personal space. There’s a row of hy-breed posters on the opposite wall, like the ones I have in my bedroom in Brack. On the shelf below the posters are real books with old hardback covers. Dad is a huge fan of sci-fi, aliens and stuff like that, and he likes real books even though the stores stopped selling those before I was even born.

  Behind me is a cabinet and next to it is a washtub. The counter we’re sitting at goes from the doorway all the way to the back corner. There are shelves here too, but not as neat as the ones across the room. Glass jars of nuts and bolts and gears line the shelf, along with tools and several boxes of meta-pol.

  When I turn back to Dad, I realize he has his shirt off, and my breath knocks around in my throat like a beemer ball when I get a good look at him. I didn’t know how bad Dad’s injuries were until now, until I could see everything. There’s the glowing orb where his heart should be, surrounded by a metal box. From there, black rubber tubes branch off and disappear beneath his skin, sinking into him until they disappear completely.

  His left side is an exposed rib cage of molded metal that connects to a robotic shoulder that connects to his robotic arm.

  “Pretty gruesome, huh?”

  I look up. “I . . . um . . . didn’t know there was so much.”

  Dad nods. “I should have died. It’s a miracle I didn’t.”

  “I guess LT, Ratch, and Scissor did a good job of saving you.”

  “They sure did.” Dad gestures to the counter. “Can you grab me that screwdriver?”

  I find the one he wants and hand it over. He unscrews the front plate of his ex-heart, placing the screws carefully on the counter, before finally pulling the plate off and revealing what’s inside. The orb is bigger and deeper than what you can see on the surface. The tubes that branch off it merge into one big tube that’s hooked directly into the orb. Dad unscrews that tube and says to me, “I gotta be quick with this part. Will you help me?”

  “Yeah. Sure. What do I do?”

  “In the cabinet, there are bottles of what’s called D-T Epocks. I need one bottle.”

  The bottles are on the second shelf in the cabinet and they’re filled with goo the same color as Dad’s glowing orb. I grab one and hurry back with it.

  Dad opens a tiny port on his orb and the old goo starts draining into a can he holds beneath it. It only takes a minute to empty, and when it is, the orb is nothing but a black dome.

  With the port now closed, Dad opens a metal spigot buried in the depths of his heart contraption. “Okay, hand me the Epocks.” I thrust the bottle into his hand and he upends it, clicking the thin tip into the metal spigot. The goo starts glug-glugging into the orb. I watch as it fills up.

  “What is that stuff?” I ask.

  “Think of it as blood.”

  “The blood of a robot?”

  Dad smiles. “Exactly.”

  When the bottle of Epocks is empty, Dad tosses it in the trash, closes the spigot, and reconnects the tubing. It only takes him a second to screw the plate back down.

  Dad raises his eyebrows. “Help me with one more thing?”

  “Sure.”

  He taps his left side. “One of my ribs is loose. I need you to tighten it.”

  “Umm . . .” I lick my lips. “Okay.”

  I take the screwdriver Dad says I’ll need and carefully, and maybe a bit too slowly, unscrew the cover that is perfectly molded to his ribs. When it swings open on a set of hinges, I see more of the inner workings: a tangle of wires, and gears and screws, more rubber tubes.

  “The third rib down, that’s the one that’s loose. There’s a screw in the back that’s used to adjust it. Do you see it?”

  I move behind him, where the plate hangs open by its hinges. The ribs disappear here inside another metal plate, connecting to the part of him that’s real, I guess. I find the screw and go in—inside Dad—with the screwdriver. I twist it clockwise a fraction of a micrometer and Dad chuckles, which makes his insides jerk up and down.

  I snatch my hand back. “Dad!”

  “Sorry.” He gets control of himself. “You don’t have to be so careful. Give the screw a full rotation, at the very least.”

  I go back in and twist till I feel the screw tighten. “Is that better?”

  Dad tests the rib in question, checking it to make sure it doesn’t rock. “Much better. Thank you.”

  When the plate is screwed shut, Dad finally puts his T-shirt on and I exhale with relief. He cracks open another can of Life Water. “I heard you had a little accident at the park.” He eyes me over the can as he takes a drink.

  I grumble. “How did you find out already?”

  “You’ll learn, around here, there’s nothing I don’t know.” He straightens his shoulders. “I’m glad you’re hanging out with some of the kids here in town, but just be careful, okay? The kids here, they . . .”

  He pauses, so I try to fill in the blank. “Do crazy things that no kid in Brack would do because either a) the UD wouldn’t let them, or b) everyone is afraid of every little thing? Which makes the kids here totally wrenched compared to the kids in Brack?”

  Dad raises his eyebrows and tilts his head toward me in that Dadly kind of way. “That’s not what I was going to say but . . . yes. They are a bit adventurous down here.”

  I shrug. “So is Lox, and you never had a problem with him.”

  “I don’t have a problem with the kids down here either.” He spreads his arms out innocently as a smile creeps onto his face. “I’m just being a dad, kiddo. My job is to worry about you.”

  “You sound like Po.”

  The can of Life Water crinkles in Dad’s bot hand. “How’s your brother, anyway? He have a girlfriend yet?”

  “Nah. He likes a girl, but he’s chicken.”

  “Who?”

  “Marsi Olsen.”

  Dad squints. “That name sounds familiar. Not placing a face, though.”

  “She’s pretty, I guess.” I lift a shoulder. “Po takes me to Smoothie Shack all the time because she works there, so I guess I get something out of it at least.”

  “You boys.” Dad chuckles, but his eyes look watery and he goes quiet real quick.

  “How come you never came and got us?”

  Dad leans back and props the heels of his boots on the bottom rung of the stool. “It’s complicated.”

  “Yeah. Of course it is.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand. Some
day when you have kids, you will. You do what you think is best at the time. Might turn out it wasn’t, but you go with your gut and hope everything turns out.”

  Vee said her dad says the same thing, that you have to go with your gut. Maybe it’s a cheesy adult thing, but I guess I kinda get it.

  “Are we going to save Po?”

  The can of water lets out a big ca-rump as the sides cave in Dad’s hand. The spot where his heart should be glows bright orange, from the water or his anger, I don’t know which. “I’m going to do everything in my power to bring your brother here safe and sound.”

  I swallow. “Can I help?”

  Dad shakes his head so fast, I worry the bolt in his neck might twist loose. “Did you not hear a word I just said? About keeping you safe?”

  I hop off the stool and my entire body twinges with pain. “Come on, Dad. Please!”

  “No. Trout. NO.” He sets the can down. “Promise me you will stay out of this.”

  I purse my lips together and say nothing.

  “Trout.” Dad draws my name out in a warning.

  “Fine,” I say, crossing my fingers behind my back. “I promise.”

  “Good.” He ruffles my hair. “Now go to bed and get some rest. There’s a gathering in the town square tomorrow afternoon and I’d like you to come.”

  “What kind of gathering?”

  “A rally. People getting together, supporting the same things.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Is it the Meta-Rise?”

  Dad frowns. “I’m not answering that.”

  “So obviously yes.”

  Dad shoos me away. “Go on, get to bed.”

  I start for the stairwell.

  “Oh, and hey?” he says. “Next time, use the brakes.” His chuckle follows me as I creak my way up the stairs.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  MERRIL MAKES BLUEBERRY oatmeal special for me the next morning. “Because of your accident,” he says with a wink. After my stomach is full, I feel a ton better. I spend the rest of the morning before the rally watching a sci-fi movie with Vee in the media room.