I Heart Robot

by Suzanne Van Rooyen

  “Thought this was meant to be peaceful.”

  “I’ll only use them in self-defense.” A smirk quirks up the corner of her mouth, and trepidation floods my circuit.

  “This isn’t about retribution. I know Stine—”

  “It’s a revolution,” she cuts me off.

  “Doesn’t have to end in blood.”

  “Not ours.” She winks and leaves me alone with my rainbow board and burgeoning fear that this day will end in Cruor spewed across Skandia Square.

  Tyri

  Asrid insists we go shopping at the new sky mall. She makes me dress cute even though no one’s going to see what I’m wearing under my jacket. We whiz up through Baldur into the wealthy borough where Rurik lives. Here, the city is a stalagmite dream of glass and glinting steel. The sun shines meekly through a haze of clouds, enough to create dazzling reflections off the silver spires.

  “Quinn called. Said he’d give me lessons.” I adjust the tint on my window to prevent being blinded.

  “Where?”

  “At school. Figure we can use the practice rooms.”

  “Mind if I hang around and meet this guy?” Asrid hangs a tight right.

  “Why would I mind? I told Rurik and he didn’t mind either.”

  “That’s good. I still want to check out this Quinn.”

  “Thursday. You can meet him if you give me a ride home.”

  “Remind me.” She slows the hoverbug, landing in a designated square where she tethers the vehicle to a concrete pylon.

  The sky mall is an octopus network of top floors connected by pedestrian bridges spanning several buildings.

  “I can’t believe you’ve never been here.” Asrid observes her reflection in the shiny elevator door, applying pink gloss and smacking her lips. A mechanical voice announces our arrival on the one hundred and twenty-second floor.

  We step into a holographic swirl of adboards and dolled up androids. They take my coat and thumb print so only I can retrieve my jacket when we leave. Surrounded by primped humans and bedazzled droids, I feel frumpy despite wearing what I thought passed as cute.

  “I’m under dressed.”

  “We’re here to fix that.” Asrid loops her arm through mine and drags me through the kaleidoscope lobby into the cavernous main hall. A droid trundles past offering maps. Asrid snags one for me and stuffs it into my hands.

  “Where to first?” She asks before popping a gum bubble.

  “Where ever. I’m only window shopping.”

  “Let’s check out the clothes, then maybe we can head over to the entertainment unit.” She jabs a pink and white striped fingernail at the map. So much pink. Looking at Asrid gives me a headache. Maybe that’s why I’m always wearing black, trying to balance out the color saturation.

  Reluctantly, I follow her down a corridor that becomes a bridge between buildings. The view is astonishing. The glass floor the only thing preventing a plummet to my death.

  I peel my gaze from my feet, staring toward the horizon punctuated by surrounding spires. Hover copters gather like bees around a flower, their autocams focused on Skandia Square. I can’t see what’s happening on the ground, but it must be something important.

  “Something happening at the square today?” I ask. Mom didn’t say anything. The vertigo recedes, and, gulping down filtered air, I follow Asrid along the bridge.

  “Not that I know of.” She pauses and squints toward the copters. “Probably something boring.” She drags me into the bustling labyrinth of trendy accessories.

  ***

  An hour later, I’m bored and contemplating chewing on a pair of designer jeans I’m so hungry. Asrid’s monopolizing the makeover screen, humming over her potential looks while scrolling through the settings. Mini Asrid’s appear on the screen, each sporting various combinations of tops and skirts.

  “I can’t decide.” Asrid throws up her hands and ends the session much to the relief of a mother and daughter standing in line behind her.

  “Can we go eat now?” I ask.

  “I guess. It’ll give me some time to think things over.”

  I roll my eyes at her and she feigns indignation.

  “One’s wardrobe is a reflection of who they are on the inside,” she informs me.

  “Guess that makes you strawberry bubblegum.” We weave through the throngs, following my map to the corridor that’ll take us to the food emporium via the entertainment unit.

  “And that makes you what? A ball of liquorice.” She grins at me.

  “Dull maybe.”

  “Oh T. You’re not dull.” She gives me a serious look.

  “I was joking.”

  “I hope so. Could Sara join us for lunch? She works in the tech unit.”

  “Sure, maybe Rik could come too.”

  Asrid passes me her moby. Mom’s waiting on the insurance claim before giving me money for a new one. It’d be much more convenient to get a communication implant like the they have in America, but integrated tech makes us too much like machines, apparently, and isn’t technically legal here.

  I dial his number. In another four days, Rurik’ll be leaving. Just like that. No more spontaneous lunches together or hanging out doing homework. Gone, leaving a Rurik shaped hole behind. I’ve been trying not to think about what him going off to Osholm really means, trying not to acknowledge how big a part of my life he is. Violin and Rurik, that’s all I have.

  He answers on the third ring.

  “Lunch at the sky mall?”

  “I’ll be there in ten,” he says. “And it’s on me.”

  “That’s not why I invited you.”

  “I know. Still, my dad has deep pockets, and I have his transaction card.” He chuckles. “See you soon, T.”

  “What?” Asrid asks when I hang up and give her back the moby.

  “He’s infuriating.”

  “The mark of true love.” She smiles.

  “The mark of maybe we’re growing apart.”

  “You really think that?” Asrid asks as we stroll across the bridge. The media copters are still above the square. Three police copters join them, and a band constricts around my heart. Mom works in the labs surrounding the square.

  “Maybe.” I wonder if I should call Mom and make sure she’s okay. I’ll probably get the machine or a hurried telling off for disturbing her.

  “Codes, look at this.” Asrid waves me over to a holograph screen taking up almost an entire wall of the entertainment unit. People have stopped shopping, staring aghast at the footage being reported live from Skandia Square.

  Androids, dozens of them, are in a clash with riot police. Policemen fire live rounds at the droids but they keep coming and press back the barriers. The sound is muted, and I’m thankful we don’t have to listen to the screaming horde.

  “Where’s the military?” A woman standing beside me asks with a quavering voice.

  “You mean our military primarily made up of soldierbots?” A man responds.

  “But how is this happening?” The woman’s voice catches as she clutches at the collar of her shirt.

  “No surprise. Not after what happened last weekend,” he says.

  Asrid holds my hand as we watch the chaos splash across the screen. The droids overrun the police, knocking down humans as they race across the campus toward the front doors of M-Tech. My heart thunders like Wagnerian timpani. I can’t breathe as I stare transfixed at the screen. Robots hurl bricks and boards against the windows of M-Tech, some punch it with titanium fists. The glass shatters and robots tear into the building.

  We all gasp as a human belly flops onto broken glass, a crimson puddle spreading across the pavement.

  “Lord have mercy, they’re going to kill us.” The woman crosses herself repeatedly.

  “Asrid.” I find my voice as more droids pour into M-Tech.

  “I know.” She squeezes my hand even tighter and passes me the moby. We move away from the screen and I d
ial my mom.

  No answer.

  “Nothing,” I say.

  “Keep trying.”

  And I do. Still no answer.

  “Sara’s waiting and Rurik’ll be here soon. What do you want to do?” Asrid asks.

  “I don’t know. What can I do?” Aside from panic and hyperventilate.

  “We could go over there. Not sure how close we’ll get with the police and onlookers, but we could try find your mom.”

  I dial Mom one more time and steal a glance at the chaos on the screen. Still no answer.

  “It might be better to wait here.” I take a deep breath. “Mom’s probably gone somewhere safe and forgot her moby.”

  “Are you sure?” Asrid’s voice is full of concern.

  “No, but what good will it do getting caught up in that?” I point at the screen. If Mom is already out of the office, the last thing she’d want is me stepping right into the middle of the riot. Better to stay away and keep trying her moby.

  “Okay. Let’s meet the others as planned then. Hang onto my moby.” Asrid attempts a smile and her face folds into a grimace instead as we fight our way through the gathered crowd and head across another bridge into the food emporium. I try to peek over at the square, but Asrid grabs my hand and tugs me into the building.

  ***

  The four of us sit with untouched trays. The knot of hunger has turned into a concrete block of worry. I’ve tried calling my mom for the past hour with no response. sky mall personnel unravel giant screens from the ceiling and turn up the volume—all robotic staff have disappeared. I don’t think I can handle seeing an android right now.

  Breaking news spools across the screen as the reporter repeats the few details she has over footage shot from a hover copter.

  Rurik holds my hand so tight my fingers are tingling with needles and pins. Sara and Asrid are pressed together, a marshmallow mash of pink and white, their heads tilted toward the screens.

  “Reporting live from Skandia Square. A rally initiated by rebel robots this morning has turned violent after police began firing at protesters. The protest is the first of its kind and is in direct response to events involving android spokesbot Saga-60-T last weekend.”

  “Robots are now believed to be inside McCarthy Tech. Whether they have taken hostages and what their demands might be are not clear at this stage. . . . The reporter presses her ear. I’ve just received confirmation that a military team is in position. At this stage, the number of casualties is unknown. From what we can see in Skandia Square, there appear to be several robots incapacitated while more than twenty police officers have been injured.”

  “Now you know why these tin cans don’t deserve human rights.” Rurik releases my hand and I wipe my sweaty palm on my thigh.

  “Maybe if they hadn’t over reacted and destroyed that Sagabot this wouldn’t have happened.” Sara shoots a dirty look at Rurik.

  “You’re not one of those bleeding heart HETR liberals with an I Heart Robot hoverbug sticker are you?” Rurik’s all sniggers and sneers. My gaze shifts from Rurik to the violence on the screen. Humans for the Ethical Treatment of Robots—not much chance of that now.

  “No, nullhead, but I do think the droids deserve something better than the way we’ve been treating them.” Sara extricates herself from Asrid. “I’ve got to get back to work.” They part with a kiss. “Call me when you leave.”

  “She’s not all ‘hug a bot’, you know.” Asrid directs the comment at Rurik.

  “Whatever. She’s your girlfriend. Not my problem.”

  “You can be such a jerk.” Asrid picks up her tray. “Sorry, T, I’ve got to go. I’m sure Rurik can give you a lift home. Let me know about your mom, okay?”

  “Sure,” I manage despite a dry mouth. “Thanks for your moby.” I return the device.

  “Don’t mention it.” She gives me an awkward one-armed hug. “Chat later.”

  “Botballs, you’d think I was the one busting into M-Tech and killing people.” Rurik drags his fingers through his hair and picks at cold potato wedges once Asrid’s out of ear shot.

  “They never said anything about anyone being killed.” But there’s no way that belly flop guy could’ve survived losing so much blood. I swallow a wave of bile and push away my food tray. My hands are shaking, and the cramps in my stomach have nothing to do with being hungry. If only I knew Mom was okay.

  “My mom … ”

  “Your mom’ll be fine.” Rurik wraps an arm around me and I snuggle into his warmth.

  “How do you know?” I take his hand again, my fingers squeezing so tight I must be hurting him, but he answers me with kisses on the forehead, leaving potato crumbs in my bangs. My gaze glued to the screen, I will the cameras to show an image of my mom safe and sound, but there’s only more chaos. Ice-cold dread settles in my belly. I’ve never prayed before, but I’m praying now, praying my mom gets out alive.

  Quinn

  We march from Fragheim, a seething horde of organosilicone and twitching circuitry. There’s a crackle of static in the air as if we’re all charged and ready to release bolts of lightning. We march in silence past the skag users, vagrants, warehouses, and old hydrogen station. When the scenery smooths into painted concrete and decorative windows, we begin to chant:

  “Rights for Robots!”

  That’s how it starts: innocuous slogans asking for compassion.

  Hoverbugs jitter and whiz above our heads as we advance north toward the center. Humans pause in their work rush bustle to stare open-mouthed at our procession. A snap-crackle thrill of pride and fear, courses through my Cruor as if we’re part of an all-encompassing circuit. Human eyes widen as we pass, focusing on us in terror, amazement, horror, maybe even amusement. It’s so hard to tell.

  Sal jabs me with her elbow, her face split wide in a smile as she yells our slogan. We’re standing in the middle about three rows from the front. Lex leads the procession, joining hands with the front row of assorted child droids. Wreaths of white flowers adorn their heads.

  A glass bottle clips my shoulder and smashes at Kit’s feet.

  “Here we go,” he says. I duck as a cup of coffee flies past my ear and douses the android behind me.

  “Assholes. Steaming, crapping monkeys.” Kit’s hands clench into fists. Despite the now steady bombardment of Styrofoam cups, juice cartons, a half-eaten pretzel, and even a shoe, we soldier on. The child droids hesitate when policebugs zoom into view, their sirens wailing and their blue lights turning the street psychedelic. Kit elbows his way forward to join Lex and lifts a tiny droid into his arms. He punches a fist into the air and shouts, “Fight. For your rights.” Lex takes up the chant and Sal rushes to join him.

  I grab her arm. “What are you doing?”

  “What we should’ve done ages ago.”

  “This isn’t going to end well.”

  “Have to try.” She shrugs out of my grip and joins the two Quasars shouting the war cry.

  The tone of our endeavor is irrevocably changed. The static charge dissipates, replaced by a burning anger. Heat shimmers off the synthetic flesh of my fellow androids, but my Cruor runs cold.

  The androids tighten ranks and I’m caught between an M-class worker like Max and another Quasar girl. They’ve all rolled up their sleeves, arms raised and waving tags. I flip up my hood and try to hide my face in the confines of my jacket lest I’m caught on camera, my face splashed all over the news for Maestro Ahlgren to see.

  Despite the police warnings telling us to cease and desist, we march through the city center and head west onto the M-Tech campus and into Skandia Square. Now what? If there was a plan for once we got here, Kit failed to mention it. He and Lex leap up the stairs of the monument, the child droid still in his arms, and Sal stands beside him. Lex addresses the crowd, and the androids become quiet as he prepares to speak.

  “This is what we are.” He raises his gaze to the memorial arching behind him. “We fought for the human
s, we helped them win a war, and we deserve better than this.” He gestures to all of us.

  Kit continues in a way that makes me think those two have been conspiring together for a while. “M-Tech created us. They’re responsible. They should be reminded of what we are, of who we are. We … ” His words are lost in the wail of sirens and the stampede of heavy duty boots. Riot police arrive with helmets and shields.

  A girl screams beside me, “Fight. Fight. Fight for your rights.” Her diminutive fist pumps the air.

  Kit lowers the child droid and turns his deadly gaze on the forest of police shields. Sal reaches into her boots and removes the knives as Lex rushes forward. He’s peppered with bullets and falls only to be trampled beneath android feet.

  “No, no, no. Don’t do this.” My pleas are lost in the thunder of the crowd. Following Kit and Sal, the androids bombard the riot police, punching with titanium-reinforced fists and snapping jawbones. The cardboard placards turn into weapons as the androids kick and bite their way through the humans.

  “Stop, please. It’s not meant to be like this.” No one can hear my screams.

  The androids rush past me, but I’m immovable, a rock in the crashing waves. Someone wrenches the board from my hands and clobbers a policewoman through the face with it. I scan the chaos for Sal, her bald-head easily visible in the fray. Kit has vanished, swallowed by the seething crowd, perhaps lying trampled with Lex.

  Additional SWAT teams spill into the square wielding M14 rifles. A shot to the head from one of those will smoke an acuitron brain. The police let loose flashbangs and sting grenades. The light momentarily blinds us; the swarm of stinging projectiles hurts, but the androids are relentless. The line of riot shields breaks under the pressing weight of angry robots and bullets ricochet around the square. Androids swarm the police lines even as they get hit.

  Sal’s head bobs above the surging masses. I lunge after her, keeping my head low to avoid instant decommission from a stray bullet. Bullets pepper my back. Each wound is a conflagration of shrieking nerves as nanytes race to repair the damage.