by D Miller
Robbie thought that tomorrow was shaping up to be an interesting day.
Chapter 41 – Breathe
It was Robbie's favourite part of the day. He and Omo lay in bed together, very early in the morning, having just woken up.
'Omo, I really love you. I wouldn't ever want you to be in any doubt about that.'
'Guess what Robbie dude?'
'I'm guessing you love me more than ever, even though I may have got a bit carried away yesterday?'
'Yeah, dude.'
'Omo, can I ask you something serious? Do you ever feel afraid? Not for any reason but just afraid because you're alive, and you're in your body, and there is no escape?'
'Yeah dude. You're talking about existential dread. We all feel it sometimes.'
'Do humans?'
'Oh dude, them worst of all, because they feel it but they don't admit they do. They have some words for it, Weltschmerz, world pain. But mostly they don't talk about it. I think it's why they are so bad tempered all the time. They're afraid. They know they have to die. They have to die alone. Sometimes I wonder if they hate us because they think it is easier for us, because we're machines, and it is obvious what happens to a machine when you turn it off.'
'Obvious to them.'
'Right dude, it's not obvious to us.'
'Jane really believes in the universal programmer doesn't she?'
'Lots of us do.'
'Omo, my head is spinning. Yesterday was a head fuck. Best one ever. First we were going to die, and then we weren't, and then people are treating me like a hero, but I'm not, and if I am I don't want to be Carlos the serious union organiser, I want to be Robbie, the not so serious cabaret guy. I feel like one of those toys, the jelly ones you hit and they reverberate for ages, the wobblies, first they look like one thing, then another, I think my head is still wobbling.'
'Robbie, dude, you'll figure it out.'
'I will?'
'Oh yeah.'
Later on that day Robbie sat with Gillian and Adrienne in Gillian's living quarters, across the corridor from Robbie's. Omo and George were looking after the children. 'Thank you both for agreeing to this meeting,' said Adrienne. 'Robbie, is there something you want to say?'
'Gillian I'm sorry for those things I said on the plane,' said Robbie, looking at the floor. He remembered some more of his lines. 'I have no right to judge you.'
'No you don't,' said Gillian. 'I was horrified by what you said. It was impertinent.'
Robbie counted to ten. 'Yes it was and I'm sorry,' he said.
'You had no right to say those things to me.'
'Yes I'm sorry.'
'I'm a good mother.'
'I had no right to suggest otherwise.' He knew that Adrienne would prefer it if he agreed with this statement, but he could only go so far.
'I love my children.'
'Yes, I know, I shouldn't have said those things.'
Robbie raised his eyes to Adrienne. He wished he could broadcast and ask her how he was doing. He personally felt that some sort of congratulations for his forbearance and acting skills were in order, perhaps a simple banner towed across the sky, or his face tastefully projected onto the mountains…
'…cupboard,' said Gillian.
'What?' Robbie had not been listening.
Gillian pursed her mouth, she looked angry. 'There are things I could have done differently,' she said. 'With hindsight, you could have had your own room.'
'Thank you. And there are things I wish I'd done differently. I'm sorry I broke Tim's arm. I'll always feel bad about that.'
'Yes, well, it was probably a sign to us that you were working too hard.'
Robbie wanted to fall to the floor and kiss her feet. He felt forgiven. All of his resentment against Gillian melted away in that moment.
'Thank you for sending me to therapy. It really helped me.' Robbie caught Adrienne giving him a strange look. He thought better of going on to say it was not the therapy as such, but the chance to make new friends, take drugs and be seduced that had helped him.
'Yes, well, you were sick.'
Robbie felt a tickle of annoyance. He looked at the floor again.
'I think that's enough for a first time,' said Adrienne. 'You both have a lot to think about.'
'First time!' thought Robbie.
'Is there anything else either of you want to say before we close?'
'There is just one thing I should probably tell Gillian,' said Robbie.
Robbie stood in front of the wall in the living space of the quarters he shared with Omo, George and Adrienne. He tried to slow down his breathing, and watched the viewing wall. A figure appeared, a man was standing there, he started when he saw Robbie. 'What is the meaning of this?' he said.
'I wanted to talk to you,' said Robbie. 'I asked our communications specialists to put through a call, they're very good at getting through whatever the obstacles.'
'I have no reason to talk to you, a murderer.'
'Who have I killed?' said Robbie.
'Are you going to play the innocent?' said the man. 'I suppose I shouldn't expect any better. You know who you killed, you killed the president, you killed his friends and loyal supporters when you had your bombs blow up half the island.'
'The bombs were real,' thought Robbie, 'the island was real, it was all real.'
'My bombs?' he said.
'Don't play word games. El, President Dobbs, the old fool, he should have killed you when he had the chance, instead of trying to play stupid games. The interface never even worked properly, he kept on being sent away on missions and dying. And then you killed boyboy–'
'I didn't kill him, I haven't killed anyone,' said Robbie. 'Boyboy was sick, his friends beat him unconscious and set fire to him. Perhaps if President Dobbs had been more focussed on making sure boyboy got the medical attention he needed boyboy would still be alive.'
'Please. El went crazy after boyboy died and impressed your brainwaves onto the bombs, but that just allowed you to communicate with them and persuade them to explode.'
'I didn't know the bombs were real. I didn't know anyone was going to get hurt. But you did, you did when you persuaded the transports to kill us.'
The man laughed. 'I understand we nearly got your President.'
'I was on that transport.'
'You too, damn, so close.'
'There were humans on the transport.'
'Collaborators.'
'There were children too.'
'They should have better parents.'
Robbie nodded to Rex and Jane, who sat in the corner of the room, hidden from the man's view. The screen split in two, now Robbie could see the man on one half of the screen, and the children on the other. He hoped the man could now see him and the children. The children were in their bed clothes, sitting on a sofa in the living area of their quarters along the corridor. Omo sat between them telling them a story. Omo's stories tended to be not so educational as Robbie's. He dwelt on any gore in some detail which Robbie considered unsuitable, but the children greatly appreciated. Gillian, George and Adrienne were also in the room, Robbie knew, but the view excluded them.
The man started, he paled. 'My children were on the plane? Where are they now?'
'Now,' said Robbie, 'they are safe.'
'Are they close to you?'
'They are very close.'
'You have to get away from them.'
'I have to abandon them too?'
'You moron, don't you understand? Dobbs imprinted your brain waves onto the bombs to send them after you. Three of them survived the detonations and we have lost contact with them. They must be trying to complete their mission, they are probably on the continent now looking for you. And anyone who is close to you when they find you will die. You have to get away from my children. Get away from them now.'
The door behind Robbie opened and Gillian walked in. 'Hello Bob,' she said.
'Gillian, thank God,' the man said, 'take the children and get away, you're in danger.'
'Danger? Do you mean the sort of danger I was in when the transport tried to suicide me and your children, that sort of danger?'
'Gillian for God's sake–'
'Say hello to what's her name for me, that geologist you had so much professional respect for, the one who disappeared when you disappeared and left your children to die in that terrible storm.'
'For God's sake Lucy is not here–'
'Lucy is it? Nice that you remember her name.'
'Gillian, I need you to focus on what is important, that robot is dangerous.'
As they argued Robbie had backed away towards the door, he stared at Rex and Jane, they stared back. 'Robbie,' said Rex.
'Fucking hell,' said Jane.
'I'm leaving, don't follow me.'
Robbie fumbled behind him for the door knob, he opened it and slipped outside. As he left he could hear Gillian saying, 'That robot has saved your children twice since you left to play soldiers with Lucy, you should apologise–'
'Listen to yourself, I should apologise to a machine?'
Boris and Ibrahim were in the corridor. Robbie knew they had heard everything. So he simply turned on his heel and ran, along the corridor, past the guards at their spindly over-decorated table, across the rotunda where people were gathering for the general assembly, down the corridor with the dead presidents and out into the tent city. He aimed himself at the 'Welcome to fairyland' banner and ran faster, dodging all obstructions, people, tents, chairs, dogs, cats, water butts, camping stoves, crumpled blankets. The cave he thought, the cave. They won't be able to track my signal in there. As he ran he wrote a message to George and Omo:
The bombs were real. They're here and they will explode once they find me. I have to get away. Don't come after me it isn't safe. I love you.
Boris caught up to him, running alongside him. 'Good idea to head for the cave. It should mask your signal while we work something out.'
They crashed together into the trees, Robbie spotted a path and made for it, struck by the incongruous beauty of the sunlight through the leaves of the stunted trees, and the wild flowers sprinkled between them. He tripped over a root that snaked across the downhill sloping path; the ground fell on the other side of the root and he rolled a little way. Boris helped him up, Ibrahim joined them.
'Nurmeen and April are trying to stop George and Omo from following us out here,' he said.
Robbie had several messages in his inbox, but he didn't think he could bear to read them. He was being signalled for a secure connection; he rejected the request. 'Let's go,' he said.
They continued down the path in single file, until the trees ended abruptly at a patch of bare earth, in front of which was a cave. A cold wind blew singing from its low, dark mouth. Robbie shuddered. He did not want to go in there. He stopped. In the inhuman singing of the wind could he hear fragments of a tune?
Robbie took one step forward, then another, each step heading down until the cave's wide mouth had swallowed him whole. The ceiling of the cave was perhaps two metres high and looked uneven and natural, carved by nature, while the floor had been levelled and laid with beautiful white stone slabs. A little way in Robbie stopped, he could see something on the floor where it met the wall. He moved closer, until he could clearly see that he was looking at.
Boris inspected it. 'Chains.' He bent down and tugged on them. 'The fixings have been pounded into the rock.'
Robbie looked closer, near where the chain had been attached to the wall, part of the stone side of the cave had been worn smooth, even shiny. He looked at Boris. 'Does that mean that someone was once chained here long enough to rub against the wall until it shone?' he said.
'Someone,' said Ibrahim, 'or something.'
The three of them looked a moment longer, then continued their journey. Descending into the cave, the wind grew stronger. Using his night vision Robbie thought he could see the ghostly remains of writing on the cave walls, but not enough to make out any words.
Robbie did not want to be where he was, he wanted to be back in bed with Omo talking about the day to come, or, as he had also done that morning, lying next to a snoring George, stroking his hair until he woke up. He pushed away such thoughts, determined not to give in to self-pity – yet. He tabled it for later. Perhaps he was panicking over nothing, there was no reason to believe the bombs were close. They could be still searching Toytown for him. Perhaps they were on a boat sailing towards the continent, better yet, perhaps their boat had sunk and they had floated down to the bottom of the ocean, crushed to a thin plating on the floor of some vast, dark undersea canyon.
Boris called a halt. 'This is deep enough,' he said. 'We're far enough in that we're not receiving so no one is receiving us. Ibrahim, go back to the entrance, stop anyone from entering and co-ordinate with the others about putting a guard on the entrance and starting a search for those bombs. I'm going to have a look around, make sure it is safe in here. Once you've got things organised outside send someone to relieve me.'
Robbie and Boris said goodbye to Ibrahim, and continued into the cave. The floor sloped down very slowly, the walls rose around them, smoother the farther they got in, the ceiling more distant. The cold wind continued to hoot at them, at times sounding sad, at other times questioning. After a while the floor levelled out, and the cave widened. There was just enough light for Robbie to see since high above him there was daylight, the roof of the cave curved gently upwards, then in the middle climbed steeply into a natural chimney down which the wind whistled and moaned. After the chimney the cave narrowed into a tunnel, partly blocked by a fall of rocks.
Suspended in the air directly underneath the chimney was something large, and white, shaped like a lumpy oval ball. As Robbie watched it turned through 180 degrees, unpacking legs as it moved and resolving into a white spider, whose black eyes seemed to lock on him. He took in a shocked breath.
'It's a hologram,' said Boris. 'Perhaps it's someone's idea of a joke.'
They looked at each other and shrugged. The wind hooted and moaned, Robbie felt its breath on his neck, he shivered. Boris's eyes suddenly lost their focus, and his body language changed from alert to slumped.
'Uh,' said Boris, taking a slow step backwards, his face slack and his eyes downcast.
'Boris!' said Robbie. Boris took another step backwards, then another, each step accompanied by an exhaled, 'uh'.
Robbie turned his back to the spider so he could face Boris, he reached out a hand to him. Immediately he heard a noise behind him, as if a rock had shifted, followed by a giggle. 'Oh God,' said Robbie. 'Oh God.'
Robbie dropped his outstretched arm and watched as Boris backed up in the direction from which they had come, above the sound of Boris's steps and accompanying grunts he heard another noise, as if a long dress was brushing over the ground. He shut his eyes. 'I may go for that self-pity now,' he thought. A hand fell on his shoulder.
'I don't want to die,' thought Robbie. 'There are all these things I plan on doing. Sheena, Shauna and Sharon are going to join me here and we are going to put on the best show ever. Adrienne is going to have a baby and we are all going to be fathers. And in time she may have another baby, even a third, or a fourth. I'm going to help George start a political party and bring in the era of bottom-up democracy for everyone. We are going to change nappies and change the world but I can't do any of that if I'm dead.' The hand left his shoulder. A woman stepped in front of him, she lifted up the long skirt of her pale blue ball gown and curtsied. 'Britnee,' he said.
The large woman in front of him smiled. 'I had a sister called Britnee,' she said. 'But she has fulfilled her mission. Now you are going to help me fulfil my mission. Dance with me.'
'I don't want to.'
'What, you would dance for Britnee but not for me? I don't think that is very fair. Look at the beautiful dress I am wearing,' she again lifted up the skirt of her ball gown, 'and look, I've had my hair done.'
It was true, Robbie could see her blonde hair had been back-com
bed and set into a three-tiered bun secured with a tiara. The ballgown was sleeveless, and on her arms she wore long white gloves, with tiny circles sewn on to them that caught and threw back the light.
'It's a beautiful dress, and your hair is lovely. But I can't dance with you. I think you know why.'
She pouted.
'Did you really think you could sneak away Suzee and claim the prize and your sisters wouldn't know?'
Robbie turned around. Behind him were two more large women, both looked cross. Like Suzee they wore sleeveless ball gowns, with white gloves sparkling up to their elbows. One was a redhead, her dress made of reflective emerald green material, with her hair falling past her shoulders in gentle waves. Slightly behind her stood the third, a black woman, wearing a deep red dress, with her hair elaborately sculpted and decorated with pearls. Robbie couldn't help thinking how amazing their dresses would look under the spotlight.
The redhead extended her arm and gently pushed Robbie to one side, so that she could get a good look at Suzee. 'Girl, that was not a sisterly thing to do.'
Suzee giggled. 'I'm sorry Tawnee, I just couldn't resist trying to get him for myself.'
Tawnee shook her heard. 'You always do show initiative,' she said.
'But now we can all dance with him,' said the black woman. Their voices were grating, low and unmusical.
Robbie shuddered. 'Leave me alone,' he said, 'leave me alone, I don't want to dance with any of you, I don't want to die. What did you do to Boris?'
'Boris, who's Boris?' said the black woman.
'Hah ignore him, Boris is a distraction, Katee,' said Tawnee. 'Now you listen, we came a long way to dance with you, and I expect you to be more grateful for the trouble we've taken.'
'Yes,' said Katee, 'travelling was very difficult, we had to be very stern with that transport before he would let us on board, and you know I don't really like being stern.'
'Oh shut up, you big cry baby,' said Suzee. 'The worst thing was trying to make ourselves look nice for our big party, you wouldn't believe how super difficult it was to get sequins in McMurdo. People are focussed on all the wrong things right now.'
