Davidia and the Prince of Triplock

by Ken Spargo

  ‘Good morning,’ said Davidia politely.

  The leader felt an electrical vibration, but didn’t know what it was. He plugged into a wall socket and the video screens were suddenly ablaze with communicative thoughts, such as with all communication that occurred between Davidia, Grunt and Batbit. Even though Davidia, as a human, had the ability to speak out aloud, which she did often and relentlessly, like all talkative twelve year olds; only her thoughts were transmitted to other life forms.

  In a mechanical thought pattern that felt like it had emanated from two steel discs being clanged together, the screens transmitted the Recon thoughts controlled by the leader. Davidia’s mind experienced the thoughts that had all been born in an echo chamber. Her head hurt. The leader was able to communicate via the screen’s electrical impulses into the minds of the other life forms.

  ‘Who are you and what are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m Davidia, this is Mr Grunt and Batbit is hiding somewhere. We were looking for suitable accommodation. We’re tired from our travels,’ she replied.

  ‘You must come with us.’

  ‘And if we don’t?’ replied the stubborn young girl.

  ‘You have no choice.’

  Before Grunt and Davidia took another step, the leader poked them with his prod rod on his spare arm. It didn’t work. The electrical charge just fizzed out. They weren’t mechanical so it had no effect on them

  ‘That hurt,’ said Davidia. ‘How would you like it if I poked you hard?’

  The leader was confused. A life form that answered back intrigued him. The fact that the prod rod was useless had the Minjans in a quandary. What are they? The Minjans had independent intelligence. They were directed from control to escort them to the Fatigue Management Factory to meet the professor. A guard of honour was formed around them.

  ‘You must come with us.’

  Realising that there was nowhere else to go, nothing to eat, no one to talk to, nowhere to sleep and nowhere to enjoy one-self, they reluctantly agreed. At least they wouldn’t be prodded again. The leader disengaged his arm from the wall socket and followed his new brood of captives.

  The walk was a slow, painful affair to the end of the corridor. It was like extracting teeth.

  ‘Do you have any speed other than slow?’ asked an impatient Davidia.

  At the front entrance there was a cartage tray with small cubicles on the back.

  ‘Climb into there,’ said the leader, with almost the last of his charge.

  In front of the tray were four robots, not with legs, but wheels.

  ‘BBBBzzzzTTTT,’ the leader instructed to them.

  In an instant, the wheels spun automatically and the vehicle sped off to its pre-programmed destination. The road out of the city to Metalside, their version of countryside, was drab and lifeless. A metal world inhabited by nothing but machinery, left a lot to desire in decor living. Robots seemed to walk aimlessly everywhere. All electrical wiring was underground so at least that eyesore wasn’t seen.

  The ride was smooth and quick. They ended up at a fantastically monstrous factory that spread to the horizon. They alighted and were instantly greeted by an over-enthusiastic professor. His research into electrical and steel matter was legendary in the valley, but all life forms he normally dealt with were always cold. This was his first experience of warm, independent and assumed intelligent life forms that could act totally independently. What they ate was a major consideration. Davidia was more concerned with that aspect too.

  The professor wondered how they got there. He put a hand toward Grunt, who felt the question through touch.

  ‘We got caught in a wind shift and landed here. We’re from Yocklaw,’ he answered.

  The professor had no idea where that was, nor did he care; however, an answer was the important thing because it proved the life form could communicate with him.

  He motioned them to follow, but he had the capacity to move at walking pace.

  ‘At least he isn’t as slow as those other snails,’ said Davidia, referring to the Blenders’ and Recons’ earlier walking efforts.

  The interior of the factory was a mass of cables, wiring, sparks, machines, conveyor belts, mobile platforms and Blenders, all performing repetitive tasks.

  ‘What is this place?’ asked Davidia.

  The professor took hold of one of Davidia’s hands. A channel of thought leapt through them both.

  ‘This is the Fatigue Management Centre for the valley. All life-giving power is generated from here. Without this working equipment, no life form can live in the valley.’

  ‘My dad worked in a car factory once and it looked like this.’ Davidia temptingly tried to touch an item.

  Seemingly from nowhere, an electrical impulse zapped her hand. She jumped in surprise.

  ‘Do not touch. It is protected from any interference,’ explained the professor.

  Davidia nursed her hand. A tiny, red scar marked the spot. It still held the heat. Miss Percival could fix it, if only she was here.

  Grunt was as quiet as a church mouse. He absorbed what he saw and stored it in one of his numerous memory banks. He was as fascinated with the professor’s work as he was with him.

  ‘I have a space for me,’ the professor advised. ‘It is my planning space.’ They entered a steel enclosed room, which had no furniture. A small alcove was indented into the wall. The professor explained that all Minjans plugged into special sockets and were fed a different electrical impulse mix. Each Minjan had its own separate steel room in which to be fed or recharged. This gave them greater flexibility and a different design format to all other robots. Davidia and Grunt were lulled into a false sense of security.

  ‘Stay here for a moment; I have an electrical fault to attend to.’

  The door was shut tight. From beneath the floor rose a flat slab. The ceiling opened to reveal clear light and a growing crowd standing around a rim above them. The walls fell away to reveal an equipment room full of weird gadgets, some which automatically crept closer. They were caught like rats in a trap and with no cheese. This was actually the inspection room, where any new life form was pulled apart and reassembled if possible. Danger, danger, flashed inside their heads.

  All drone robots usually lay flat on the steel slab, whilst the professor and his team disassembled and then rebuilt them. However, Grunt and Davidia were islands of movement within their own right. The Minjans had never experienced this type of mobile, life form before. Grunt thought whispered in a low transmission pattern to Davidia to stand near the recharging alcove. He had confusion to install in the Minjans. The specialist equipment used to pull robots apart was in a fixed position, with extended robotic arms to do the gripping and ripping. Even though Grunt had many arms and legs he intended to keep them all. A long arm with pincer teeth suddenly darted at him. He rolled aside, using his rotund frame to good effect. The leg grapplers made for one of his uprights. He jumped over it. Two Blenders were sent in to subdue his activity. Due to their slowness, Grunt leant over and was able to deftly disconnect a few wires. The Blenders both bzzted to uselessness. The Minjans began to panic. A life form brighter than themselves was unacceptable, let alone believable.

  Grunt suddenly picked up a Blender, laid it on the slab and proceeded to disassemble it, much to the amazement of everyone present. He tapped into the specialist equipment, which he used like an expert. Professor Metal had to take a fatigue pill himself. Such intelligence had never been experienced. After a period of time, Grunt laid all the robot parts around the room. He was meticulous in his task. There was no need to damage a perfectly good working product. He paraded around the room like a boxing winner, waving to his adoring fans, only this time his audience wanted to rip him apart. For once the Minjans had magnetised feet and couldn’t move. They were metal and awe-struck. They had no instructions to issue.

  The professor could only watch and admire the new life form’s capability. Grunt sat down, grabbed his necklace and began to make an awful noise.
It even scared himself.

  Batbit dug his claws harder into Davidia’s arm. ‘That hurt.’

  All Grunt’s minute skin pores that leaked water were now bubbling like a hot spring with bubbles that burped. The Minjans wondered whether their world had been infected by idiocy, a condition they didn’t understand. Grunt rolled around the floor acting like he was on a pain roller-bed of nails. The scenario almost halted the electrical production of the valley as the signals spread, referring to an uncontrollable, foreign matter. The whole stunt was pure theatre by Grunt. He might have been a thespian in a past life. He let go of the necklace and the lunatic performance stopped. His body was like a wet towel. Water sloshed on the floor. No one dared enter the room. His eyes noticed their concerns. Suddenly, he jumped up in the air to the ceiling as if he had been shot in the rear by a bullet or prodded by a spiky fork. The Minjans stumbled in shock.

  ‘It’s attacking us,’ they signalled. Pandemonium, not the Russian musician, struck a chord with them all.

  Grunt landed safely as he had many legs to choose from. He waved all his arms at once, looking like an octopus in high seas. He walked over to the plug-in alcove and placed one set of fingers in the socket. He lit up like an alien beacon. The video screen on the wall blinked into action. The message read, ‘I will now reassemble the Blender.’ The screen blanked. He returned to the slab and shut his eyes. He searched his memory compartments for the recorded video he had taken at the Aisle of Rest. Once located, he beamed it around his circumference and he could actually follow the process displayed on his stomach. Logically, he began the reassembling task. The Minjans thought that only a Minjan could possess this knowledge. Slowly the Blender began to take shape. Everything was put perfectly back in place for the Blender to be returned to the boring non-entity it was.

  Grunt plugged it into the Minjan socket and it bzzt, bzzt, bzzted back into existence. To show there were no hard feelings, he also reattached the other Blender’s disconnected wires. It too bzzt, bzzt, bzzted back into action. For a moment, a glimpse, Grunt could have sworn that both Blenders gave him a quizzical look, exactly like Unitse had to Batbit. Had he altered their life’s course? The professor had to have a metal sedative, a.k.a. an increased electrical surge to cope with the miracle he had just witnessed.

  ‘Mr Grunt, I didn’t know you were a robot builder,’ said an amazed Davidia.

  ‘Neither did I; however, something had to be done.’

  The door opened and in walked a pleased, but suspicious, Professor Metal. He had realised that Grunt’s capability put him in conflict with his own construction and control programmes. He had decided to get rid of Grunt by inviting him out on an electrical inspection to the Circle of Hotto. There was only room for Minjans to rule in the Valley of Undonko, free from interfering strange life forms.

  ‘By what are you called?’ asked the professor, resting a hand on Grunt’s arm.

  ‘My name is Grunt.’

  ‘I’m Professor Metal. I manage whatever you see. There is a special training ground further along the valley called the Circle of Hotto. Once a Blender has been reassembled, it’s taken there for a final test before it becomes a working machine. They are completely under the control of us Minjans. One day, we hope to leave this valley and explore other valleys or worlds.’

  ‘Are there any mistakes made when rewiring a Blender?’ asked Grunt.

  Professor Metal’s steely eyes closed. His jaw jammed shut so hard that a small screw fell out and his jaw became unhinged.

  ‘Wait here,’ he ordered.

  ‘Did you upset him, Mr Grunt? I don’t like him much. He doesn’t want to play with me. I think he’s a bad robot. I’m coming with you to that circle thing,’ said a determined Davidia. Seriousness was written all over her face like a front-page head-line of a newspaper.

  The professor returned with a shield of non-communication between them.

  ‘This way,’ the professor indicated.

  A mobile transport waited for them. It also had robots in front to drive the vehicle. One drone Blender turned around and gave a quizzical look. Only Davidia noticed. Could it be that Unitse was with them, right under the Minjans’ noses? She kept a careful eye for any indication that a ‘friend’ was with them. Batbit’s role was that of passenger. Zip. They were gone.

  The Circle of Hotto appeared at the base of a Minjan entertainment centre, which was dominated by a tall, steel tower. It seemed to pierce the sky. The Minjans came here to observe the throwing-in and the last sparks of the Blenders. A robot’s life didn’t allow too many pleasures. The hot springs rusted all types of metals, but had no effect on live life forms. Professor Metal arrived with his special guests, hoping they would provide an entertaining end to their existence. Steps led down into a series of pools of different depths. Blenders were passed through this series of pools on their way to becoming a rusty, junkyard robot. Grunt and Davidia thought it was a wash or swim time.

  ‘This looks like my dad’s spa at home. Dad and mum had it in their bedroom. I wasn’t allowed to use it. They said it was too hot. This looks exactly like it.’

  Grunt had no idea what a spa was, but the water he saw looked hot. Little wispy, steamy trails filed into the atmosphere playing follow the leader. Batbit disliked water and suddenly let go of Davidia’s arm. He settled out of sight on a light railing where he wouldn’t be noticed. Unintentionally, because of his positioning and camouflage, he might be the reason no harm would come to either Grunt or Davidia. He could operate as a backroom set of eyes.

  ‘This is a most special place. From here we control all aspects of valley life. See that spire; it’s the Steel Tower of Minjocan which dominates the entire valley. Entry is forbidden. Come, I’ll show you the Circle of Hotto.’

  Professor Metal led them to a series of pools in rooms filled with activity. A chain gang of Minjans were pushing uncooperative Blenders (Untonks) into the waters. As soon as the water touched metal, a small hissing sound, followed by a slight puff of mist, arose. The Untonks rapidly ceased moving as the acidic waters ate away at their structure. It was an unsightly scene. The robots sank beneath the waters. The last sight of them was a quizzical look on their faces. Was that Unitse?

  ‘They don’t look very happy,’ said Davidia. ‘They have all drowned.’

  ‘There is a surprise for you in the next room. Come,’ urged Professor Metal.

  The doors slowly opened and there stood a huge Minjan with a flashing, red light in the middle of his forehead.

  ‘This is our leader, Metroid.’

  Grunt and Davidia refused to move. Metroid gestured with a giant finger, coaxing a forward movement from them. They didn’t budge. Grunt sensed danger. Davidia too felt intimidated by his size. Metroid gestured again, this time with his hand. Still there was no movement. He took one step forward, when a flying tastebud flew through the door shrieking. Its sound impacted momentarily by switching off Metroid’s flashing, red light. He almost toppled over. Minjans ran around confused by the strange sound that tingled their metal torsos.

  ‘Has something escaped from the Room of Misery?’ said Metroid, flashing properly again.

  There was no answer.

  ‘You there. I saw you disassemble, then reassemble a Blender. How could you know what to do? Are you a plant working for the Untonks? That is classified information. Are you a traitor? Answer me. Otherwise you will be flung into the Circle of Hotto.’

  ‘What’s the Room of Misery?’ said a cautious Davidia, interrupting before Grunt could reply.

  Metroid’s red light stopped flashing and beamed a singular, bright-red light.

  ‘What said that?’

  ‘I did.’

  Metroid saw this tiny, pint-sized life form with independent movement. He wondered how it worked.

  ‘You need to be disassembled.’

  ‘I do not,’ Davidia replied defiantly.

  ‘All new entrants into the valley are investigated this way. Throw her into the Circle of Hotto, immed
iately.’

  Two Blenders picked up a squawking young girl and carried her to the edge of the first pool. They gently placed her on the steps.

  ‘I don’t have a bath with my clothes on,’ she said.

  One Blender shoved her violently. Davidia fell into the warm pool. She swam around like a fish, gulped a mouthful of water and spurted it out at the Blenders. It splashed on the cold, metal floor. A spot landed on the foot of Metroid and caused an instant burn. His anger vented with a wild arm-swing, which sent both Blenders flying into the same pool, gurgling into non-existence. Davidia continued to swim. Her clothes were being washed and she was enjoying herself.

  ‘Mr Grunt. Come on in, the water’s fine.’ She spurted out another mouthful of water. It had a slight mineral taste. All robots kept a discreet distance.

  Grunt had noted the difference in chemical reaction on the Blenders and Davidia. For the robots it was extermination. For Davidia it was a pleasure. The Circle of Hotto’s waters were ineffective on Davidia. After a few minutes, Davidia sat on the steps that were in the pool. No one could touch her. The Minjans were frightened of the evil she possessed. Nothing had ever before survived the pools. Grunt saw an opportunity to barter for their freedom. He spun wildly and splashed into the pool also. He floated like a bubble and bobbed like a cork due to his size and body composition.

  ‘What a pleasure! I haven’t done this before. It’s fun.’

  ‘At home we call it swimming. Mum and dad took me to lessons when I was two years old. The water tastes a bit funny.’ She looked over at the robots. ‘Come on in, the water is warm. It’s like my parents’ spa.’ Davidia and Grunt splashed around, spreading water everywhere. The Minjans were dumbstruck.

  Neither of them rusted, rotted or sunk to the bottom of the pool. These certainly were two very strange life forms. Grunt and Davidia certainly couldn’t stay in the pool forever, so a method of compromise was sought.