by J. S. Morin
Ned took back custody of the portable. “She’s got another hour.”
“And then you’ll start murdering people,” Abby added.
“Not people,” Ned said. “Robots.” Then he stalked away.
Alan was by her side a moment later. He knelt; she could tell from the rustling of fabric and creak of the chair next to hers. Alan whispered. “We all appreciate what you’re doing, taking his attention off the rest of us.”
“He doesn’t dare harm me, at least not until he’s gotten his use out of me.”
“Harm you?” Alan scoffed. “Look at you.”
Abby pawed around until she was able to pat Alan’s cheek. “Looking isn’t my strong suit at the moment.” With a grunt of pain, she turned her sightless eyes to face him. “When I’m gone, I’m counting on you to take over occupying him.”
“You think he’s going to release you to get medical attention?”
“No. I’m probably going to die in this third-rate theater that can’t even adapt The First Girl on Earth properly.”
“Don’t say that!” he whispered harshly. She imagined him scowling around at the other hostages to make sure none of them overheard.
Abby scoffed. “I saw it on recording. Miscast Eve badly. It’s objectively a bad play they put on.”
“You know what I mean. You’re not dying in here.”
“It’s an artist’s duty to speak the truth, uncomfortable truths most of all. I’ll hold out as long as I can, but things are grinding and gnashing that shouldn’t be, and I’ve got old organs pulling extra duty they’re not used to. The physical strain is, frankly, exhausting. How do you young people get through a full day without cybernetics?”
“You’re evading the point,” Alan said. “Tell Ned you need a doctor, a mechanic, anything. I refuse to sit by and watch you die when I know there are people just outside who can save you.”
Abby found Alan’s cheek again with her hand. “Good boy. You go tell him that. It’ll be good practice.”
Alan hesitated. “You need to tell him.”
“Quite a conundrum. Either you learn to deal with Ned Lund—a small, scared, stubborn man with a tiger held by the tail—or you wait until I pass on right here in the cheap seats.”
“We’re in the third row,” Alan pointed out. “We technically have great seats.”
“Sweetie, when you can’t see the stage, there’s no such thing as a good seat.” She laughed at her own joke until a fit of coughing forced her to stop. Spikes of pain driven down her neck, back, and legs had a way of quelling mirth.
Alan kept his thoughts to himself after that. Abby knew he was nearby from the sound of his breathing. She felt around until she found his hand and gave it a squeeze.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out of here.”
“You got Kaylee out. That’s what matters.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Kaylee pulled up short when they reached the door to the upload center. This wasn’t a place humans were meant to see. This was the birthplace of new robots and the site cocoon for the renewal of old ones. To her surprise, Charlie7 started down the branching path toward the mixing center for newborn robotic minds.
“Shouldn’t we use the upload equipment for chassis transfers?” Kaylee asked, unsure whether it was wise to question the robot who had pioneered this technology as a middle-aged man in the waning days of the First Human Era. She’d simply been unable to help herself—or think better of it in time.
Charlie7 paused. His imposing, Version 70.2 with its matte black, almost military exterior swiveled at the hips to face her, swinging Eve’s gurney and the portable rig gracefully along with it. “The upload rig for new chassis is perhaps infinitesimally better suited. However, I have a longstanding accord with the head of the Mixing Committee, and he owes me a backlog of favors. I may dry up that reserve all at once, but this is a once-in-millennium occurrence.”
SPARE THE MELODRAMA. KEEP MOVING.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Charlie7 scolded mildly as he took the admonishment to heart and resumed guiding them into the nerve center of the most important factory in the universe.
Kaylee held her breath the whole way—or felt like it, at least. She’d never been inside Kanto except the skyro repair center and the depot to pick up time-share drones. There was nothing reverential about a repair shop or a rental lot for grunt labor. But this was a place where the most brilliant minds on Earth had been handcrafted by mechanical gods.
The very thought of who had started it all suddenly cast her familiarity with Charlie7 in an irreverent light.
“I don’t say it often enough,” Kaylee spoke softly, confident the robot would hear her. “Or ever, actually. But thank you.”
“For what?” Charlie7 asked. “This isn’t a favor for you.”
“For everything,” Kaylee said. “For Earth not being a barren brown rock stuck in orbital space between Venus and Mars, or worse, an outpost of some freakish alien species. For not giving up on life. For not creating a race of robots and forgetting about mankind. For… all of it.”
“For what it’s worth, you’re welcome,” Charlie7 said. “But again, not a favor for you.” He trudged on. They were getting close to the end. “It’s my main gripe with religion, frankly. Now that I’ve been on God’s side of Genesis, I really don’t feel a need for people to keep thanking me for existing. Enjoying a nice planet and not ruining it for everyone else is all I really need.”
Kaylee ruminated on that. On the one hand, it was flagrantly blasphemous and offensive even though she’d never describe herself as particularly religious. But then again, what human or robot had any right to judge him? He had recreated them all. He’d been alone, the sole mind for light-years, and had granted free will to stray atoms he’d pulled together into forms that resembled himself.
He wasn’t all knowing—though he knew more than any one person should.
He wasn’t all powerful—though he seemed to enforce his will on entire planets when he set his mind to it.
Nor was he the creator of Earth despite breathing life back into it.
Charlie7 wasn’t God, but if anyone were to relate to God’s emotional needs, he was the closest.
“Here we are,” Charlie7 announced. “Let me do the talking.”
POPPYCOCK. I’LL TALK TO HIM. YOU’RE JUST A FORKLIFT RIGHT NOW.
Kaylee bit the inside of her cheek. For someone whom she’d just shown such deference and gratitude, it was jarring to hear her great-grandmother berate him and insult him at one go.
Charlie13 was sitting inside the office on the far side of the door. He wore the same Version 70.2 chassis as Charlie7 but lacked the easy manner that filed the rough edges from the imposing metal frame. The director of the mixing center was perhaps the most influential single robot in the world—at least by legitimate means. Elbows propped on his desk, the mixing master tapped the fingers of one hand against the fingers of the other.
“I’ve been waiting for someone to dump this problem in my lap,” Charlie13 said coldly.
“I can handle the technical side,” Charlie7 suggested. “You can go grab a coffee and play some solitaire.”
The two robots were identical in chassis but by dress and manner could hardly have been more different. Charlie13 was economical in motion, crossing the room to examine Eve as if he’d run simulations to determine the fewest steps he’d need to reach her. Charlie7 swept his arm theatrically to welcome his compatriot to inspect his human client.
“She’s far gone,” Charlie13 said. “How much brain function?” A sudden chuckle escaped the stoic robot. “Fine. I’ll ask you directly. Honest assessment, though. Are you up for this?”
Kaylee wished she could listen in, but her portable wasn’t getting copied on the messages Eve sent.
“Good enough,” Charlie13 said. “No more ‘dallying.’” He turned to Charlie7 and spoke aloud. “She gets more like one of us by the year anyway.”
“We need a chass
is,” Kaylee said, speaking up to catch their attention.
Charlie13 regarded her like a specimen under a microscope. “Believe it or not, I’m not entirely unprepared for this eventuality.”
Jason90 came into the room via a side door. Kaylee recognized him from news feeds related to Earth diverting resources from Mars to Kanto at his request. The sudden flare of anger at his arrival gave way to shock when Kaylee realized what he was wheeling into the room on a dolly.
“It’s me!” Kaylee exclaimed.
RAISE MY VIEW.
Kaylee rushed to her great-grandmother’s side. There was a motor in the back of the gurney that would raise the occupant’s upper half to a reclined position instead of laying them flat. With a whir, Eve slowly rose until she could see across the room.
WHAT’S THE MEANING OF THIS?
The chassis was one of the new style, human realistic except under close scrutiny. It was an exact replica of Eve—or Kaylee, depending on the viewer’s bias. There was no sign of aging, but the chassis was fully adult. If Kaylee had to judge, the last time she looked like that had been around age twenty.
HOW LONG HAVE YOU ALL BEEN SCHEMING THIS?
“Not me,” Charlie13 said, holding up his hands. Obviously, Eve had included everyone on her transmissions as Kaylee followed along on her portable.
“Or me, technically,” Jason90 said. “This was meant to be Rachel’s chassis.”
RACHEL’S BEEN DEAD SINCE BEFORE THE LIFE-LIKE MODELS CAME OUT.
“But she developed them,” Jason90 replied. “This was her pet project. She built the prototype in her own image, and I’ve kept it up to current standards… just in case.”
IN CASE YOU ALL NEEDED A ROBOTIC EVE. There was an air of menace in the words, even typed.
“No. In case the Human Welfare Committee ever allowed Rachel to get uploaded. She scanned herself regularly, the last one days before she passed. Rachel knew that someday the restrictions would end.”
Eve typed nothing for a moment.
BRING IT CLOSER.
Jason90 wheeled the chassis over to Eve’s bedside. Painstakingly, Eve raised a hand to touch the metallic flesh, colored like a healthier version of her own. Her fingers twitched. At first, Kaylee took the spasm for a seizure but then realized that her great-grandmother was typing.
SHE ALWAYS WAS THE ACTIVIST. I SUPPOSE YOU’LL HAVE TO BUILD HER ANOTHER.
“You’ll do it?” Kaylee asked. She clenched her fists, holding back from crushing Eve in a hug that might end their plans tragically premature.
THERE ARE STILL LIVES TO BE SAVED. YOUR SPURIOUS ULTERIOR MOTIVES DON’T CHANGE THAT. BE AWARE THAT A RECKONING MAY COME ONCE I’M NEITHER FEEBLE NOR URGENTLY OCCUPIED ON ANOTHER PLANET.
“I’m willing to gamble,” Charlie7 said.
Charlie13 cast him a sidelong look. “I doubt you’ve truly gambled in your life.”
Charlie7 smiled. “I’ve just never lost.”
GET ON WITH IT.
“I’m proud of you, Grammy,” Kaylee said, planting a kiss on a wrinkled forehead clammy with perspiration.
She stepped aside as Jason90 rolled the Rachel-made chassis to the upload bed.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Breath pumped in and out of ragged lungs. The sorry sacs of flesh had already given up. Eve’s bladder was full and blinking an annoyed warning to her visual display, but the valve to discharge it was just going to have to live with never fulfilling its purpose. She kept her eyes open out of a weary sense of duty. Those tired lids would get their rest soon enough.
She was in no pain.
The doctors at Franklin Hospital had installed so many nerve blockers that she hardly felt anything at all. Oh, Eve could have disabled them with a simple command, but inviting in all those aches and urgent warnings of failing organs and threadbare joints didn’t seem so much noble as it did masochistic.
How different will it really be? she asked herself as Charlie7 attached the silly helmet-like contraption that would capture her mind as it stood that very moment and whisked it off to the crystal she’d avoided for so many decades.
“You’ll be happy to know,” Jason90 said conversationally, “that Rachel planned ahead for a 5-petabyte crystal. I suspect we’ll be needing the storage space for that super intellect of yours.”
Eve began to twitch a message, but the effort didn’t seem worth the inconvenience. Soon enough. Soon enough she’d have energy to spare, clear wits, and not a worry in the world.
What a load of claptrap.
Eve hadn’t met a robot that wasn’t a pile of neuroses walled off behind bricks of stoic bravery. Sure, the robots could hide their fears behind an emotionless facade, but she’d ventured into enough candid conversations over the years to know that, deep down, they were as addled as humans. They just kept quieter about it.
The scanner hummed. Eve felt a resonance in her skull. It conjured dark memories of being in Evelyn11’s lab with metal probes staked through her brain like an iron maiden’s victim. But the scan itself wasn’t unpleasant; in fact, it nearly passed for a massage.
Quietly tapping into the Kanto computer system with codes she wasn’t authorized to have, Eve kept tabs on the progress of the scan.
It was slow going. Vanity suggested that it was because the brain of a 147-year-old luminary was so complex, but she rather suspected the device was underpowered and methodical.
Idly, she wondered how many of her current thoughts were being captured. In a few minutes, would she even remember these final meanderings of her biological mind? Had those synapses already been scanned?
This was sheer insanity. All of it.
Blast that girl. This was all Abbigail’s fault. She’d taken that “I’d do anything to keep you safe” reassurance too much to heart far too late in life. It was meant for an adventurous pre-emancipated girl venturing off into the oft-dangerous and untamed wilds of Earth. Eve had never meant it as an invitation to get herself held hostage.
And to drag poor Kaylee into this scheme? Oh, Eve was going to use her newfound vocal heartiness to give Abby a good tongue-lashing.
Suddenly, her internal display winked out.
DATA FEED CONNECTED.
BOOT SEQUENCE 00102014400.11044 SUCCESSFUL.
SYSTEM DIAGNOSTIC…
Digits flashed past, counting upward to 100 percent.
SYNCING INTERNAL CONNECTIONS…
Again, a count to 100 percent sped past Eve’s vision against a dark void.
CONFIG = RACHEL18.27
CHECKING FOR UPDATES…
NO UPDATES FOUND.
SYSTEM UP TO DATE.
POWER LEVEL: 100%
NATIVE MEMORY: 1.94728562E+15 OF 4.5035996E+15 AVAILABLE
INTERNAL MEMORY: 1.1503652E+18 OF 1.1529215E+18 AVAILABLE
A list of servomotors and sensors all scrolled past, each checking out at 100 percent in the thinnest sliver of a second.
POWER LEVEL: 100%
BATTERY LEVEL: ERROR> NOT INSTALLED
TRUMAN-EFFECT REACTOR: 100%
Eve had heard so much squabbling over the diversion of Truman-Effect technology but had never considered relying on it for personal use.
ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE
TRANSFERRING TO MANUAL CONTROL
SUGGESTED READING: So_I’m_A_Robot_Now.V201
Eve’s vision came alive. The interface was a variant of the one she’d been using most of her life. She could see with perfect clarity without the hassle of holding her eyelids open. Raising a hand to her eyes, she saw young flesh without any sign of wrinkles. Her joints actuated without protest or pain. Zooming in, of course, she could see the artifice in that false flesh, but at standard magnification the resemblance to human skin was uncanny.
“Grammy Eve?” Kaylee asked in a tremulous voice, leaning in with a halting smile.
“Oh, don’t nanny over me,” Eve said. “It worked. I remember being over there just a moment ago.” She hooked a thumb behind her, where her memory of the room’s layout ind
icated her human body ought to have been.
She supposed there couldn’t be two of her.
“You can shut off the breathing assist. I believe there’s a sedative available in the standard medical kit attached to that gurney.” Eve had certainly had the full tour of Earth’s medical protocols over the past century and a half.
“You… already did all that,” Charlie7 informed her.
There were no restraints holding her to the upload rig. Unplugging cables from the back of her head with Charlie13’s assistance, Eve got up and made her way to the gurney.
There lay the resting body that had carried her doggedly for so many years. “Goodbye, old friend,” she said, laying a hand on the body’s forehead. She turned to Charlie7. “I don’t remember doing it. We must have diverged, if only for a moment at the end.”
Kaylee cleared her throat. “I… don’t think the other version waited to find out whether it had been successful.”
Eve pursed her lips. The sensation came as a background reporting of pressure sensor data, but it felt like real touch. “I don’t suppose I’d have wanted to know if it failed.”
“Do you… remember everything?” Kaylee asked.
“If by that you mean that I’m pressingly needed on Mars, then yes,” Eve replied. “But that also means I remember the underhandedness of every step along the way from there to here. You and Abby are going to have a lot of explaining to do once I sort this out.” She addressed the latter threat to Charlie7.
“Tell Grammy Abby I’m sorry she needed to come save me,” Kaylee said.
Eve cupped a hand to Kaylee’s cheek. She could feel the warmth of her great-granddaughter’s skin. “You’re the one saving her.”
“I can fly us,” Charlie7 offered.
“Like fun you can,” Eve replied. “Remember my threat that I’d no longer be feeble? Well, that means I no longer need a chauffeur. I’ll take the access code for your spacero, and I’ll leave immediately.”
“Good luck, Grammy Eve,” Kaylee said, throwing her arms around the Rachel-made robotic chassis.
Eve’s first reaction was panic. She’d grown so accustomed to a dignified degree of frailty that her first instinct was that Kaylee was going to kill her accidentally. Her second, upon finding her great-granddaughter hanging from her neck mid-bearhug, was to measure the force of her hug in return lest she bruise human ribs.
