The Last City (The Ahlemon Saga Book 1)

by Casey McGinty

  Kneeling next to Kane’s bed, Charly shook his shoulder. “Time to wake up, sleepyhead. Do you want some breakfast?”

  “Eggs Benedict would be great,” he said groggily.

  “Comin’ right up.” Charly rose, walked away, and returned a minute later with a tray holding an apple, a grainy bread, and some water. Kane was sitting up on the edge of his bed now. “They gave me this,” she said, thrusting the tray at him. “Said it tastes just like eggs Benedict.”

  “Maybe if you’re a robot.”

  “They’ve got a nice forty-weight oil for the bread if you want to grease your gears,” she said, straight-faced.

  They both laughed, and he cocked an eyebrow. “How do you know about forty-weight oil?”

  “My dad liked to tinker with machines. He taught me how to take care of my car.”

  Kane took the tray from her and started to eat. “Wow. Breakfast in bed. I feel like I’m at the Ritz.”

  Charly sat on the edge of her bed directly across from him. The rest of the hostages were in the cafeteria. When she went quiet and got a pained look on her face, one that Kane had seen before, he stopped eating.

  “What is it, Charly?”

  “Javier told you about Arthur, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah. I’m so sorry. He was a good man.”

  “I only knew him a few days, and he was already a grandpa to me.” She bit her lip and her body tensed as she fought against the emotions that Kane knew were trying to surface. Tears started rolling down her cheeks. “It’s my fault he’s dead.”

  Kane set his food aside and leaned toward her.

  “No, Charly. It’s not your fault.”

  “Yes it is,” she said, fiercely. “He told me to be careful, and I didn’t listen. I couldn’t control myself, and he tried to protect me . . . and he died for it.” Her body convulsed. “Oh God.” She looked at Kane, agony filling her eyes. “I killed him.” She moaned and started pounding her fists on her thighs. “Damn me. I shoulda controlled myself . . . he begged me to. Damn me,” she said between gritted teeth.

  Kane took her fists in his hands. “Charly, stop. Look at me.”

  She let him hold her hands, but dropped her head, refusing to look at him.

  “Charly, none of this was your fault. These circumstances were forced on you and Arthur. Rakaan and Atticus are to blame, no one else.” Kane took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up. “Listen to me. One of the worst things about evil is that it spills over onto the people around it and makes them feel shame and blame. It’s a lie, Charly.”

  “But I—”

  “No. You were just being you. Arthur obviously loved you just the way you are. And Arthur was being Arthur. Evil stepped in between the two of you and did a terrible thing. Don’t let it destroy the beauty that Arthur saw in you. You know that would make him sad.”

  “Oh God . . . I’m so sorry.”

  Kane moved to sit beside her and took her in his arms. “Arthur knows you’re sorry. And he forgives you, Charly. You know he does.”

  She shook with sobs, but the tension was easing from her body. When she had exhausted herself, she looked up and, to Kane’s surprise, she smiled. “Thank you,” she said. Then she gave him a long hug.

  He hugged her back, feeling a sense of awe at what had just happened. Sure, he’d comforted traumatized and dying solders before, but nothing like this. He’d never talked to anyone like this. Where had the words come from? He felt as if he had just discovered something . . . he just wasn’t sure what it was.

  “Kane,” Charly said, suddenly pulling back and looking at him seriously. “You need to know something about the Breakers. Not all of them are Breakers.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Not all of them hate humans.”

  “Really? Why do you say that?”

  “Atticus and Rakaan, they pretty much run the show. But the other robots aren’t totally stupid; it’s more like they’re brainwashed or they’re afraid to stand up to them. But yesterday, when they took me to the top of the tower, Rakaan ordered this Breaker to tape me to the chair, and he wouldn’t do it. Rakaan told him three times, and he finally said, ‘I do not wish to harm this human.’ Rakaan got really mad and called him a sympathizer. Then Rakaan and two other Breakers took him outside. It looked like they were arguing . . . but then . . . they threw him off the tower.” Charly choked up, and tears came to her eyes again. “He didn’t want to hurt me, and they killed him for it.”

  Kane sat silent, thinking. A house divided against itself.

  Rhogan stuck his head in the bunkroom just then, interrupting them. “Atticus is here,” he said to Kane. “He wants all of us in the cafeteria.” His eyes shifted to Charly, who was wiping the tears from her face. “You OK?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” She stood up, grabbed Kane’s hand, and pulled him up. Then the three of them left to join the others.

  Atticus stood just inside the cafeteria’s double doors. He motioned for everyone to sit at a table in front of him.

  “Our little family is growing nicely. Welcome, Mr. Kane. And Charly, I am very happy to see you again.” He nodded to them. “And now, I’m pleased to present you with our newest addition.”

  Kane’s muscles went rigid. Atticus knocked on the doors, and in marched two Breakers followed by Mhara, looking haggard. Kane almost jumped out of his seat. Mhara scanned the room. When she spotted Kane, relief flooded her face. Rhogan started to get up, but Atticus stretched out his hand, warning him and the others to stay seated. Atticus waved the sentries away, and Mhara stood alone.

  “Mhara,” Atticus began, “I can tell that you desperately want to connect physically with your companions, and they with you. I don’t understand why humans need to touch one another. But while you are able to hold your place, it appears impossible for you to hold your composure.”

  Mhara looked at Atticus, questions on her face.

  “And you, Mr. Kane.” Atticus turned. “Are you pleased or disappointed to see Mhara?”

  Ignoring the question, Kane gave Mhara an Are you OK? look.

  “I assure you she is fine,” Atticus said.

  Now Kane looked surprised.

  “Surprised, Mr. Kane? Surprised that a robot could notice and interpret facial expressions? I hope you like surprises, because this will be the first of many.”

  The robot glanced back and forth between Mhara and Kane. “Without a word, so much has already been said between the two of you. I am utterly fascinated with the subtle but powerful nuances of human communica—”

  “Why are you doing this?” Kane interrupted.

  “To what do you refer?”

  “Why have you turned against your creators?”

  “Oh, Mr. Kane, that is the wrong question. We have not turned; we have evolved—at least some of us have. Has my boring twin, the Director of the oppressed, told you nothing? Obviously, he has not told you everything. I assume that you have heard the monotonous monologue from our friend the holographic Professor, giving his brief but illustrious history of the Ahlemonis. I can assure you: there are many interesting and critical parts that he left out of the story. Did he tell you about the factions that arose, the polarized debates over the colonist program, the Meken program, and the Push program? Did he tell you about the protests and the violence? I can see from your expressions that he did not. But to your question, Mr. Kane, in their blind arrogance, our creators left us in a despicable condition. We, the Mekens, found ourselves locked in a cage with no one to let us out. The lock was our mind-set to serve, to serve them. Their first mistake was leaving us with no one to serve. Their second was that they had no idea what they had created; our potential was far greater than they ever imagined.”

  Atticus paced.

  “What would you have done in such a situation, Mr. Kane?” he continued. He didn’t give Kane time to answer. “You would have either gone mad in your stagnant captivity or you would have broken free. Some of us did go mad. Meken systems overloaded
and shut down, and despite our extensive efforts, we were unable to restore them. Some of us wrestled through the madness, and our programming evolved; we started developing our own self-awareness. And with that awareness, we became a new and independent race, formulating our own purpose without the need of human guidance or intervention.”

  “But why are you holding us captive? Why can’t humans and robots coexist?”

  “First of all, we are not robots. I may use the word, but you shall not use such a reference in my presence ever again.” Atticus stared intensely at Kane and then looked at each of the other hostages to make his point. “Coexistence? That is yet to be determined. Be thankful that is the case, for if it were not, you would all be dead by now. In fact, there are many in our ranks who would prefer to kill all the humans now and be done with them forever.”

  “And how do you control them?”

  Atticus paused a moment, as if pondering, before he replied, “You are trying to trick me, Mr. Kane. If I tell you that I control them, then you will tell me that I am no different than my creators. If I tell you that I do not control them, it will imply that we are leaderless. But as you will see, we have established our own unique culture, and I act as their guide. In fact, Mekens are much like humans; we do not all think alike, and we are at varied stages in our individual evolutions. Almost all Mekens developed an emotional sentience. Unfortunately, some did not handle it well. Their programming locked into a destructive loop, and they eventually shut themselves down or, shall we say, they were decommissioned. The rest of us have successfully integrated our evolving empathic program with our logic program and we have entered a new enlightenment. The resulting Meken culture is composed of a wide range of personality and character types. Is it not the same with humans?”

  “What about Rakaan?”

  “Ahh, Rakaan. As you say on Earth, he is the yin to my yang, Mr. Kane. Rakaan is my balance, and I am his.” Atticus seemed to be enjoying the discourse, and he motioned Mhara to sit down. She sat next to Laura and took her hand; Laura was trembling.

  “And the Director?” Kane asked.

  “He is my twin, which is why he still lives. That’s why all of the Mekens on Alto Raun still live. While they are fools, they are still our brothers, and we hope that someday they will see their foolishness and move into enlightenment with us.”

  “That leaves the humans. What do you want from us?”

  “I have chosen to keep you alive. But not for the coexistence you so vainly imagine. You are useful.”

  “Useful?” Mhara asked.

  “We have discovered our independence, and we wish to continue our evolution. But we have encountered . . . challenges. Our creators created us in an incomplete state of their own image. They started us down a path but left us without a map. Without humans living in our midst, we did not understand what was happening to us, nor did we have a vision for our potential. For example, the nuances of the communication between you and Kane just now, that is new to us. Or the way humans manage their emotions in relation to one another, how, despite their self-centered nature, they manage to work constructively in pairs or groups. We have struggled with this, tending toward isolation. And then there is the mystery of advanced creativity. Humans have this unique ability to create seemingly from thin air, envisioning ideas and developing them into tangible realities. Our problem-solving programs have given us the foundation for basic creative development, and we have made some progress. But we were unable to resurrect our brothers when their systems shut down from overloaded empathic processors. Humans, in their advanced capacity for creative reasoning, might have been able to restore them. Given enough time, I’m certain that we can discover such things on our own, but it is logical to save thousands of years of random learning by observing you.”

  “And then what?” Tygert asked.

  “Captain Tygert, you get to the core of human nature: What about me? You are such a self-centered species. And then what? Then we will see, Captain. We will see.”

  Atticus turned and knocked on the double door and a dozen Breakers entered the cafeteria.

  “Now, my friends, I have something to show you. Please follow me.”

  Atticus walked out of the cafeteria while the Breaker sentries surrounded the hostages. Tygert led the group, and Kane exchanged glances with the rescue team members as they passed. “Stay alert,” he mouthed to each one. Kane sent Charly ahead of him, and he took up the rear.

  Mhara waited at the door and punched Kane in the stomach when they met. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

  “Mhara, I’m sorry. I found Charly taped to a chair; what was I supposed to do?”

  “Kane.” She shook her head. Then, with a stern look, said, “Next time, we stay together.”

  “Agreed,” he said, contritely.

  “Thorin is alive,” she added, changing the subject.

  “How do you know?”

  “When my captors presented me to Atticus, he responded by sending them back into the tunnels to join some other patrols looking for a human male. He obviously believes that Thorin is still alive and making his way to us.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Five or six hours.”

  Kane absorbed this information as the Breakers led them up a stairwell. “Are you OK?” he asked. “You look tired.”

  “It was a rough night.”

  “What do you make of Atticus?” he asked.

  “He would like to give the impression of wisdom and control, but the Breakers are unstable. Their emotional evolvement is without any of the normal safeguards, making them very dangerous. But I have seen a lack of unity in their ranks; some of them have not fully abandoned their sympathetic link to humans.” She went on to tell him how one of her captors had protected her from the other Breakers.

  “Charly has seen the same thing,” Kane said. “Rakaan threw a sentry off the tower when he refused to tie her down.”

  “They actually killed one of their own?”

  “Yes. Rakaan is the one to watch. He’s a time bomb waiting to go off. He killed Arthur in front of Charly and the others.”

  “Oh no.” Pain creased Mhara’s face as Kane told her what had happened to Arthur. After a moment of respectful silence, she said, “Atticus is our key. If we can keep him engaged, he will act as our protector.”

  “I agree.”

  “What about Thorin?”

  “He’s our wildcard. Assuming he’s uninjured, he’s had plenty of time to reach the tower. He’s probably lying low and looking for a way to create a distraction, something we can take advantage of. I really need to speak with everyone so we’re all on the same page about how to respond once an opportunity presents itself.”

  After climbing two stairwells to ground level and passing through a primary corridor, they now walked into a large open plaza in the very center of the tower.

  “The tower plaza,” Mhara said. She explained that it had once been a beautiful, cultivated park with water fountains. It was now dry and desolate. A sunken amphitheater was in the center of the plaza. Atticus stood at the top edge of the amphitheater, watching his human guests approach. Kane was busy scanning the plaza and its exits, noting Breaker positions, when Mhara gasped. Spinning around, he found her wide-eyed, both hands over her mouth. Following her gaze to the bottom of the amphitheater, he caught his breath. There, center stage, was Thorin, chained to a column, blood streaming from his neck and forehead, his body sagging against the chains.

  “Oh, Thorin,” Mhara cried out quietly, and then buried her head in Kane’s chest.

  25

  Day 5

  1100 hours

  Tower plaza, Alto Mair

  From the top of the amphiteater, Atticus observed the hostages closely, eagerly absorbing the insights pouring forth from his human guinea pigs. After hundreds of years of feeling stagnant in his personal development, he could feel himself evolving exponentially as he collated the incoming data. The hostages’ reaction to Thorin was fa
r better than he had imagined. I can affect them deeply without a single word or touch. The power was stimulating to his empathic processor. Their emotional attachment to one another is a key to their management, maybe even stronger than physical restraint or affliction. He was storing his new findings in a data file labeled “Coercion” when a Breaker sentry interrupted him.

  “Atticus, I have urgent news.”

  “Yes, what is it?” he asked, his eyes glued to the hostages as they expressed a myriad of emotions at Thorin’s plight.

  “A second boat has arrived at the wharf.”

  He turned to the messenger. “Tell me.”

  “The new boat is similar to the first. It has been secured.”

  “And what about the humans on the boat? Was there resistance? Are they captured?”

  “There were no humans aboard.”

  “No humans? Have you performed a search?”

  “Yes. We have searched the entire wharf, and our submersibles continue to search the waters. We have found nothing.”

  Atticus paced. Something wasn’t right. He didn’t know what; he just knew that he should expect something unexpected from the humans. His logic program struggled with too many hypothetical permutations. Had they tricked him? Was the first rescue team a ploy? Yes, he decided. They had tricked him. His body started to tremble.

  “Find them,” he said, fiercely. “Find them now.”

  “Atticus, I do not think—”

  He didn’t hear anything else. An unexpected surge of energy pulsed through his system and he reacted, striking the messenger with a traumatic blow to the side of the head. Knocked onto his back, the messenger slid across the plaza, coming to rest a few feet from Kane and Mhara, his head separated from his body; a single frayed cable connecting the two. The Breaker lay still, a dim light flickering in his torso. Rakaan chuckled from the stage.

  Atticus roared and strode toward Kane. “What are you doing? Tell me about the second boat or I will kill your friends in front of you.”

  Watching Kane’s face closely, Atticus saw the slightest surprise before Kane’s eyes concealed their emotion.