‘What do you mean dressed like that? I am an infantryrobot.’
‘Of course you are,’ said Gresley, and he turned back to his desk. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me…’
At that he picked up a pile of foil sheets and began to read his way through them.
Susan watched him for a moment, and then turned and headed out to find her train.
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do
Ka was a city caught between worlds, a city built half on sea and half on land, a city caught between the harsh realities of whaling and the culture and civilization of the Empire.
It was a shifting, animate city. Whales were dragged from the sea, their bodies taken apart and separated into piles of metal. That metal was taken to plate the bodies of robots, robots who would then strip the metal from themselves and use it to construct new buildings, buildings that would then be dismantled and rebuilt elsewhere as more robots flowed into the city, or taken to line the new roads that were built into the sea. Metal would be formed into cranes and used to construct the little ships that carried metal up and down the coast, then the ships themselves would be dismantled and the metal used to construct new buildings.
Ka had moved up and down the coast over time; it waxed and waned like the tide. It was anchored only by the Whale Road, running as it did from the long-unused jade and stone buildings of the Emperor’s Sea Palace, all the way back through the provinces and cities of Yukawa to the Silent City itself.
Not that many of the Emperor’s robots travelled to this harsh town, grey and utilitarian as it was, lashed by the sea rain and choked with the smoke of forges.
This place was left to the strong and uncultured robots that worked there. Mostly male minds, full of lifeforce that powered big, heavy bodies, suitable for pulling whales down to the sea bed. Minds that thought nothing about ripping open the panelling of the huge creatures, and reaching through to disable the electro-muscle beyond.
Robots who had fought back.
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do saw the signs almost immediately he entered the city.
These robots had fought against the humans.
With guns and harpoons, with swords and spears and anything else that came to hand. Rocks and stones and metal bars lay discarded all around. The ground was still soaked with the red blood the humans carried within them. He saw the bloated remains of their bodies, long stripped of any useful materials, the yellow-white bones poking through the bare flesh.
The robots of Ka had swatted the flying craft with cranes. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do wandered through the docks, the grey sea splashing beside him, and he saw one of the human craft lying broken on the ground. Close up, it seemed so fragile: metal skin as thin as gold leaf, the transparent plastic cockpit bubble bulging and torn by the metal girder that had pierced its length. Two humans lay dead behind it, the fluid that had once filled their bodies dried and rusted around them. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do held out a hand near the red patch. There was iron there, just a trace. So these creatures had a little in common with robots. He inspected the face of the dead human. Had it felt pain or fear as it had died? He couldn’t tell.
But the dead humans were only part of the story.
There were dead robots, too. Dead robots lying everywhere in the streets. The humans had dropped one of their electric bombs here, too, though it hadn’t been anywhere so near as effective as in Sangrel. Many more robots still lived. Going about their work, clearing the streets, sorting the body parts into piles for re-use.
When they saw Wa-Ka-Mo-Do pass by they obviously recognized the handiwork of the Vestal Virgins, but this didn’t seem to bother them so much. If anything, his slow fight against the agony within his leaden shell seemed to grant Wa-Ka-Mo-Do a certain respect.
A man came running up to him.
‘You have one of these?’ he asked, handing Wa-Ka-Mo-Do a flexible metal mesh. ‘No? I thought not! Put it around your head and shoulders if the humans return. If they drop the electric bomb again, I mean.’
‘Thank you.’
The man hesitated. He gazed at the dark metal of Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s body.
‘That is, if you can reach up to your head. Will your hands move that far?’
‘I can manage.’
The man’s eyes glowed.
‘Spread the word, brother. I say, let the animals return. We’ll be ready for them next time.’
With that the robot turned and dashed off.
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do dragged the heavy shell around the city, looking for Jai-Lyn. It was a pointless task, he knew, slowed further by his constant need to rest and recharge. She wouldn’t have stood a chance in the fighting, not wearing that thin, delicate body. Even if she was spared death from some human gun, then the electric bomb would have surely caught her. Only the heavy-duty bodies had survived, that and those robots who had later emerged from the sea, fresh from the hunt. Those robots found a city much changed since they had set off in search of whale metal.
He came to a set of making rooms. An old building, made of stone, chased in copper and lead. There was a forge inside, cold in the middle of the floor. The rest of the room was so neat and tidy. Bundles of wire and piles of plate, tins and tins of paint of all colours, neatly arranged on shelves around the walls. Doors led from the main area to the little rooms where the robots of higher rank would go. A dead woman lay in each, hands clutched to her head, the metal of the skull deformed and crushed by her own dying strength. None of them were Jai-Lyn.
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do looked at the last woman, full of silent shame. Somewhere in this city, Jai-Lyn would no doubt be sat, her hands clutched to her head in just that posture.
He emerged from the making rooms back into the red daylight. A robot was sitting by one of the stone tables in the middle of the square, waving at Wa-Ka-Mo-Do.
‘Hello, stranger,’ he called.
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do moved towards the robot. He was sat on an iron seat, the stone table before him crawling with life, both metal and organic.
‘Pull up a chair.’
‘It will break beneath the weight of this body.’
‘You know, I think it will. Perhaps you can kneel instead?’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do did so, and felt the pain in his feet move to his knees. There was no relief to be found in any position.
The table was marked with a seven by seven grid of squares. Metal beetles, worms and lice wandered at random across its surface, all of them contained by the stone lip that ran around the table’s perimeter. Half of the creatures had a blob of red paint on their back.
‘Have you played chess before?’ asked the stranger.
‘Not like this. Not with animals.’
‘Really? This is the true game.’ The stranger reached out and quickly placed the creatures on their starting positions. Slow creatures, worms and placid beetles on the back row, skittering lice in the position of pawns.
‘They’re moving around already,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. ‘They won’t hold their position.’
‘That is why you must make your moves quickly, or your strategies will be of no use. You can be red, you begin.’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do fumbled for one of his lice pawns. His hand was too clumsy.
‘It’s no good. I can’t take hold of it.’
‘You give up so easily?’
The man’s words stung Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. He tried again. With a feeling of tremendous satisfaction he managed to take hold of one of his lice pawns and move it two spaces forward. As he did so it began to rain. Dark spots appeared on the stone table.
‘Interesting opening,’ observed the other robot, ‘but, alas, it is undone already. Your pawn has wandered away…’
The stranger picked up a pawn of his own and moved it onto a square currently occupied by one of Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s.
‘… so I take your piece.’
‘What is the point of this game?’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, irritated. ‘I can barely move in this body.’
‘Then you will have to be cleverer than me, won’t you?’
With difficulty, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do seized his own pawn, but the piec
e he was aiming to take had walked out of its range. Frustrated, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do set the piece down on an empty square.
‘This is like life, no?’ said the stranger. ‘Like robots. Our parents twist our mind, set us on their path, but after that they can do nothing more than watch how their children interact with the other players in the game.’
‘There is no logic to the motion of these creatures,’ replied Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, in frustration.
‘Of course there is,’ said the Stranger. ‘They act as such creatures will. It’s just that the logic is not apparent to us.’
‘It would be easier if we just used regular pieces,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, watching as the robot captured another of his pieces, and dropped it, legs moving, in a stone cup at his side of the table. ‘Or if we could predict which way the pieces would move.’
With a major effort, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do took hold of a beetle. He waited a moment as one of the stranger’s creatures hesitated on the edge of a square, and then brought it heavily down.
‘Check!’ he said.
‘No longer,’ said the robot, and sure enough, his emperor walked from its square.
‘This is pointless!’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do.
‘Not at all! In life there are many moments when things seem final, then everything shifts and the game resumes. Just like now. The pieces are shifting. This is your moment, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do.’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do gazed sharply at the stranger.
‘How do you know my name?’
‘I was told it by a robot on the sea shore. He is waiting there for you now.’
‘Waiting for me? How does he know about me?’
‘Through listening. Some minds speak to each other, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. You know that the whales talk to each other?’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do looked at the stranger, looked at his thin, delicate body.
‘You don’t look like a whaler.’
‘I’m not. I was brought here by the robot on the sea shore. He thought there might be a place for me here in Ka with the humans temporarily defeated.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Studying them. Finding out more about them. Deciding how best to fight them.’
‘Should we fight them?’ asked Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, deep in shame.
‘Why not? Your Emperor no longer rules this continent. It is not his real wishes you follow by serving the humans. You know, despite everything, you did well in Sangrel, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. Maybe the best anyone could have done.’
The praise did nothing to lift Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s mood. The weight of his body was not the heaviest part of his prison.
‘I could have done more. I could have followed the Emperor, or followed my own beliefs. Instead I did neither.’ He looked around. ‘Maybe I can succeed here. Join the fight with the other robots…’
‘There is nothing for you here, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. You know that.’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do felt the last vestige of hope slip away.
‘Then my life is over.’
‘You know that isn’t true. Anyway, isn’t despair forbidden by the Book of Robots?’
‘You know of the book?’ asked Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, but with no eagerness.
‘The knowledge wasn’t woven into my mind at birth, but yes, I know of it.’
‘What does the book mean now? You’ve seen the humans.’
‘Who said that they wrote the book? There is no reason why they should have done. Even if they did, does that give them the right to treat us in this way?’
‘Do you know what it is like to have your core belief thrust in your face and then twisted out of shape before your eyes?’ asked Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, his voice full of pain.
‘No,’ replied the stranger, and he picked up a beetle and dropped it on a square, taking another of Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s pieces.
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do felt suddenly empty, drained of all emotion.
‘What do you want with me?’
‘Me? Nothing. But there is a robot waiting for you by the sea shore. I think you should go to him.’
‘I’m looking for a robot. She’s called Jai-Lyn.’
‘She’s dead. You know it, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. There’s nothing for you here in Yukawa.’
‘There’s my sister, my family.’
‘Would you shame them by returning to them in that body?’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do said nothing. He moved another pawn across the board.
The stranger lifted a piece of his own: the forge. He waited a moment in the pattering rain, then placed it on the grey board.
‘Checkmate. Come on, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, it’s time to go.’
He stood up. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do got to his feet and followed the robot through the streets, down through a forest of crane legs, human craft tangled in the cables and lines above him. He followed the stranger down to the sea.
A robot waited by the water, his body like none that Wa-Ka-Mo-Do had seen before. His arms were way too long, his face and body inverted drops of water.
‘His name is Morphobia Alligator,’ said the stranger, ‘and he is a pilgrim.’
‘Where is he taking me?’
‘North, to the top of another continent. When summer approaches in the north, winter approaches in the south. Where there is happiness in spring, there is sorrow in autumn.’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do gazed at the stranger.
‘Winter is ending, the humans have just arrived there. From one perspective, you will have a chance to live the last six months again.’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do moved forward. Something was rising up from the water beyond. Something huge. It was opening its mouth.
‘Wa-Ka-Mo-Do,’ said Morphobia Alligator. He gestured towards the whale’s mouth. ‘Shall we go inside?’
Spoole
Artemis City was locked in a dynamic equilibrium of busy preparation for the next war. Like a storm cloud, the potential was continually rising, and all the robots were waiting to see where it would discharge itself.
The robots were forming into clans: infantryrobots, Storm Troopers and Scouts, computers and engineers, all forming their own groups, all waiting to see where to move next. On the edge of the city, the human compound sat in silence, its guns constantly scanning the surrounding area.
Rumour was rife. It jumped from robot to robot. The humans were leaving, they were going to attack. Sandale and the rest were arming themselves with human weapons; Spoole had taken the north side of the city; Kavan was about to attack the city, attack the humans; Kavan was already here, inside the city…
And at the centre of this maelstrom of uncertainty, Spoole marched into the largest of the forges, surrounded by a group of infantryrobots and Storm Troopers that were not quite escorting him, not quite following him. Kavan wasn’t the only person with presence, he noted with satisfaction.
He saw the Generals in the middle of the floor, just as he had been told to expect, and he felt a surge of relief. So that information at least was true.
‘Sandale!’ he called. ‘Why do you and the other Generals hide in here?’
They had been expecting him. All those Generals in their new bodies, all of them sporting the metals the humans had bought. Their bright, flashing panel work was in marked contrast to the dull greys and blacks of the soldiers who had followed him here.
He noticed the way they had arranged themselves: the younger Generals had moved to the back of the crowd. It was the older ones like Sandale who had the courage to challenge him.
What have we done? thought Spoole. What have I done? To think, if the animals had never arrived we may have carried on in this way, tearing Artemis apart through our constant jockeying for power. Robots like Kavan marching across the surface of this planet, conquering all, robots like these Generals, making copies of themselves, making robots to lead, robots that have never done anything else…
Sandale had stepped forward. ‘What are you doing?’ he demanded. ‘Why do you bring these troops into this place?’
‘As witnesses, Sandale.’ And he raised his voice so it could be heard within the forge.
‘General Sandale. Generals. I accuse you all of treach
ery! You are traitors to Nyro!’ Silence fell in the forge. All were listening. ‘Robots!’ he shouted. ‘We have made a grave mistake in Artemis City. We see it standing here before us. Where we should have built robots to fight and to build to the glory of Nyro, we chose instead to weave minds to lead us. That was a mistake! Because to them, leadership has become all! They have never walked a battlefield, they have never constructed a bridge or a forge or an engine. Worse than that, they don’t see any reason why they should do so! Instead, they believe that an ability to lead is all that is required. And so they do anything they can to continue that leadership, even if it means betraying us and Nyro to the animals! Better that, in their minds, than have Kavan return here to oust them!’
The forge was filled with silent attention. The crackle of the fires burning, the gentle pulse of the magnetic motors, the distant hammering, all seemed to fade into the background in the ringing of this greater truth. So many robots looking on, their rifles and knives and awls so far untouched. There was unresolved tension, waiting to be dissipated one way or the other. Of all the Generals, only Sandale seemed untouched by the building current. His low voice carried across the room.
‘You accuse us of treachery? It is you who do not follow the will of Artemis. Artemis’s leaders did not request your presence in this forge.’
Spoole walked forward, his simple, elegant body an eloquent contrast to the over-engineered machine that Sandale wore.
‘You no longer have any authority, Sandale. Not since you gave over part of Artemis to those who do not follow Nyro.’
Sandale smiled.
‘Spoole, did not Nyro herself say that land is not important? Only Artemis. The animals rendered a service to Artemis; they took the land as their payment.’
‘What service, Sandale?’
‘They rid us of Kavan, Spoole. Have you forgotten that was also your wish?’
‘Not in that manner, Sandale, never in that manner!’
But Sandale’s words had achieved their intended effect. Spoole sensed the change in the mood, he felt the scales tilt against him. Still, he pressed on.
Blood and Iron p-2 Page 37
