by Ray Verola
The look on Roz’s face caused a gnawing pain in the pit of his stomach. For maybe the first time, he seriously questioned what he’d done in battling those in control. Maybe the smart move so many months ago would have been to fade into the woodwork and be a compliant citizen, happy to be alive, happy to be doing better than most while continuing to enjoy the financial benefits of working at RobotWorld, partaking in the mind-numbing bliss of Serenity, and perhaps even learning to love the excitement of betting on Manglecon. The one thing he didn’t question, however, was that he’d definitely take Roz over Jennifer if given the choice.
In any event, the plan to dispose of RobotWorld was in shambles. And the chance that Taylor would ever see Roz, Tracey, and his friends again was slim to none—with slim getting ready to leave town, as the old saying went.
Taylor sat on the unsteady swivel chair, holding his head in his hands when he was surprised by the squeaky sound of the door opening. He looked up to see Shane, wearing RobotWorld grays, with two large security guards flanking him. The guards were holding lantern-type flashlights that flooded the room with light. Taylor squinted in the suddenly brightened room.
“You need some muscle behind you to be in my presence, eh, Shane?” Taylor said.
“Consider them a safety net against any tricks you might have up your sleeve. Not that you have any. But you’re a bit stronger than I am, and I do recall you mentioning your exploits as a high school wrestling champion. Therefore, it’s prudent to have my two allies here as a muscular insurance policy.” He smacked his lips. “You know me, always prepared for any eventuality. That’s why I’m in the controlling position I’m in, and you’re . . . where you are.”
“So what the hell are you here for?” Taylor asked, with an edge in his voice he hoped Shane would notice. “Come to gloat?”
“Of course not. When a winner has won, he doesn’t need to gloat. The opponent has already been defeated. Winners have no need to brag. I wouldn’t expect you to understand, as you’re not a winner. I’ve come to see my loser ex-friend one last time before the semi-bright flame of his life is extinguished. To say one last goodbye. Everything is working out perfectly. Even the travel approval you requested—which I helped you get, by the way—will give us cover when you disappear. ‘Taylor and his group must have gotten lost on their way to the desert southwest,’ we’ll say if anyone asks. ‘Probably died of thirst and were eaten by wild animals. Not a trace of them left. What a terrible shame.’ Although, to be honest, I don’t expect anyone will ask about you.”
“Honesty has never been a strong consideration in your life. No problem there.” Taylor tried to produce saliva in his dry mouth without success. “What’s your plan? To rule the world by controlling robots?”
“Overly simplistic. But not far off target. You only go around once in life. Play the game to win. Play to gain the most power. And play that power for all it’s worth. That’s me. But you need not be concerned about what I’m doing. It’s the continuing survival of you and your cohorts that should be your major concern. For all the good it will do you.”
Shane belly-laughed so hard his face turned almost beet red. “You and your friends will be dealt with tomorrow. Dealt with meaning that there is a good chance you all will no longer be part of this dimension after the dealing’s done, if you catch my drift. Sophia will be the first to die, today.” Shane’s head jerked back. “Wait, Sophia’s a bot, so she technically can’t die.” Shane guffawed again. “Sophia will be terminated. That’s the proper term for the ending of a robot life. Terminated by the master of programming and termination himself, Dr. Alec Scully. Should be done in the Reboot Room within the hour. My former robot confidant, also known as your new robot friend, is being transported there as we speak. Face it, Taylor. You’ve lost.”
Taylor folded his hands on his lap. “No. You’ve lost. You’ve lost your soul. People who pursue ultimate power always lose what makes them human—their souls. In the end, you’ll lose it all. Somehow, someway, you’ll lose it all.”
Shane threw back his head. “Quit the amateur philosophizing. I’m not losing anything. The only smart bet is that you’ll be the one who loses everything.”
Taylor sat up as straight as he could and did his best to restrain his anger. He said, “I beg you, Shane. Leave Roz, Tracey, Austin, Errol, and Max out of our conflict. They were only doing my bidding. They are not co-conspirators, as you’ve called them. I’m the only one with whom you have a beef. Leave them the hell out of it.”
Shane laughed derisively. “I don’t think so. It would be too messy keeping them around. They know too much. I’m sure you understand.”
“What the hell happened to you, Shane? What made you change from that good kid in high school? How did it happen?”
“I grew up. I evolved, as Sophia might say. Found out how the world works. No need to get bogged down in details, but when you try to do right and end up running into a brick wall too many times, it knocks some sense into you.”
Taylor looked down to the floor. “Sad. This place is so evil. The world would be better without this place.”
“Stop your whining. Show some character in your last hours on this earth.” Shane smirked. “Stand tall—as I always do.”
Taylor shook his head and laughed softly. “You always had a big ego. Needed always to be the big star, the center of attention. The king of every court, the dearly departed at every funeral.”
“But as of tomorrow, it’ll be you who’ll be dust in the wind.”
After an uncomfortable few seconds of silence, Shane said, “So this is goodbye forever. There is no reward of heaven. There is no punishment of hell. That’s discredited pie-in-the-sky nonsense. This world is all we have. Now I’ve got to part company with you and get to the Reboot Room to say goodbye to Sophia. No need to be depressed, Taylor. This is life. There are winners and losers. And for there to be winners, there must be losers. Guess which one you are?”
“May you get what you want, and may you want what you get,” Taylor said.
“What a beautiful sentiment. Thank you so much, my former friend, for your kind words.”
Taylor laughed. “That’s an old gypsy curse, you fool.”
“Whatever,” Shane said. He gave a crisp military-type salute to Taylor with his right hand. “Goodbye, loser.” And he was out the door.
Taylor was alone again in the dark storage closet, still sitting on the unsteady swivel chair. A wave of agonizing sadness rolled over his spirit with the realization he’d probably never see Roz again. And he was sorry beyond words for getting Tracey, Austin, Errol, and Max into this mess. He’d apologize to them all, if only he could. The only one still with him in the dark was George. Out loud, Taylor said, “You’re the only one I can say goodbye to. So, maybe this is it. Goodbye, George.”
An answer came back. Maybe not. Remember the words of the great twentieth century American philosopher, Lawrence Peter “Yogi” Berra: “It ain’t over till it’s over.”
Taylor spoke the words, “It ain’t lookin’ too good.”
62
The Reboot Room appeared to be whiter and brighter than it ever had to Sophia. She was strapped into a reclining white leather chair and looking up into the blinding ceiling lights. Wearing his usual white lab coat, Dr. Alec Scully was standing nearby, his back to her as he adjusted a knob on the console before him.
Shane stepped into the room and met Sophia’s eyes. He said, “You had to evolve, didn’t you? You couldn’t settle for being the top bot in the world, serving the person who’d one day become the most powerful person on the planet—me. No, you had to evolve. And now, look at what your evolution has gotten you.”
Sophia continued staring at the blinding ceiling lights and said nothing.
“Fine,” Shane said, “Give me the silent treatment. It’s about time you stopped your robotic babbling. You damn traitor. I gave you life,
a great career, the greatest, most successful program ever, and you stab me in the back. You should have worshipped the ground I walk on. But not Sophia the evolving robot. She had to be so much better than the average bot. The company will make good use of your scrap parts, however, after we shut you down permanently. Nothing will go to waste. You’ll do some good after all.”
Sophia continued staring at the ceiling.
Shane got close to her ear. In a hushed tone, he said, “And I found out about your theft of Nitro through a security recording review. Thought you could get away with it, didn’t you? Nope. Those black thermoses of Nitro are hard to hide under our gray uniform. What the hell would you want Nitro for?”
No reaction from Sophia.
“You were shown bringing one black thermos into your office, then your office security camera went dead for a minute or two. But hall security cameras never showed you removing the container. It’s safe to assume you’ve hidden it in your office. Care to tell me where and why?”
She continued ignoring Shane.
“Always with the air of mystery. It’s a quality we programmed into you. One of the qualities that made you so distinctive. You were always good at keeping your mouth shut and protecting our deepest secrets. But there were some secrets you were never told, and some you were programmed to never consider. Now it doesn’t matter. I’ll find the Nitro.” Shane nodded at Scully and then turned to leave the Reboot Room. But after taking two steps, he stopped abruptly and strode back to Sophia. In a voice not much above a whisper, he said, “I’m the one who named you, Sophia. Me. I gave you that name, chose it after great consideration. It’s Greek for wisdom. I’ve never been more disappointed.” He stormed out of the room.
Scully approached the supine Sophia and smiled wanly as he reached for the metal halo above the robot’s head.
***
In the dark storage room, Taylor remained motionless on the uncomfortable chair. A feeling of self-pity, similar to what he’d felt in the alley on the night the Aguilars nearly ran him down with their PTV, consumed his spirit. But he did the same thing now in the pitch-black storeroom that he did back in the pitch-black alley: he bucked up. He remembered that he’d been in tough situations before and come out a winner. It wasn’t clear how (or if) he’d be able to get out of this jam, but he was no loser, as Shane had so pointedly called him. If he was to go down, he’d go down on his feet, not on his knees.
Taylor asked himself a question: What to do now? An answer came back from George: Whatever must be done to survive. Keep on putting one foot in front of the other until you can’t do so anymore.
Taylor thought, What’s my next step? The answer came back instantaneously: the key.
Yes! The key. Taylor reached into his pocket and pulled out the duplicate RobotWorld executive master key he’d carried with him since his firing. He let out an audible “Whew” when realizing in the moment the good fortune of the sweat pants in the closet being too small for him this morning. Or was it something more than good fortune? he thought. George?
In his head, he heard George respond, It wasn’t me. Sometimes you just gotta be lucky.
The storage room, like most of the rooms and offices in the RobotWorld complex, had inserts for keys on both sides of the door. Executive master keys would work on most RW doors. In three quick strides, he was at the storage room door. Taylor inserted the key and the door clicked open.
He exited the storage room and quietly closed the door behind him. No one around. The initial moment of surprise morphed into clear realization. Today was a national holiday. Founders Day, commemorating the founding of the Northeast Sector after the Big War. No humans would be working at RW today except Shane and Alec Scully. He was here on this special day to destroy RobotWorld, just as he had suggested back in the park with Sophia.
It took a few seconds before his eyes adjusted from the dark of the storage room to the lighting of the hallway. He would race to the Reboot Room first. He’d come back for Roz, Tracey, and his friends later. He was sure they were locked behind doors in rooms he passed. He thought about knocking on their doors, to say he’d return for them, to give them hope, but decided against overcomplicating the situation. Not to mention wasting time. Saving Sophia was paramount in his mind now after what Shane had told him.
63
Taylor peered through the clear glass window of the Reboot Room door. He saw Sophia strapped into a chair with a man in a white lab coat, his back to Taylor, looming over her.
Dr. Alec Scully grasped the metal halo hanging above her head. Scully pushed down hard on the halo several times; it appeared to be stuck. Taylor had to act right now. He used his master key to open the door. It didn’t open. He tried a second time. Nothing. On the third try, he heard a click and the door cracked open.
Hearing someone entering the room, Scully released his grip on the halo and turned his body toward the door. He took two quick steps toward his unexpected visitor. “What are you doing here?” Scully said. “You’re not authorized to be in this room. I’m calling security.”
As Scully moved to his desk, Taylor rushed toward him and tackled him above the waist. They tumbled to the floor. Scully twisted out of Taylor’s grasp and got to his feet. “This is an outrage,” Scully screamed. He ran to Sophia and grasped the halo. He attempted to pull it down onto her head, but the halo was still stuck. As Taylor scrambled to his feet, Scully looked down at Sophia. Scully picked up a standing stainless-steel instrument tray by its pole and bashed the strapped-in Sophia on the head twice. Taylor got to Scully before he could hit her a third time. Scully threw a wild punch that missed Taylor’s head by at least three feet. Taylor let go a straight right punch that connected solidly on Scully’s jaw. Scully fell back and hit his head hard on the white linoleum floor. He was motionless but still breathing.
“Not sure whether it was your punch or the floor that knocked Dr. Scully out,” Sophia said.
“Doesn’t matter,” Taylor replied. “I’ve heard nothing but bad things about this guy. Never met him until now. Something tells me I wasn’t missing much.” He began to undo the straps securing Sophia.
“It appears you’ve set aside your do no harm policy,” she said.
“I’ve hated to fight since badly injuring someone a long time ago. But now, it’s the right thing to do. Preventing your demise.” He shook his head and laughed. “Strange how things have worked out.”
As Sophia rose, Taylor noticed a significant indentation on the left side of her face, extending from the eye almost to the back of the head. Her mouth was twisted in a crooked line. It reminded him of his long-deceased grandmother after she’d had a mild stroke.
Taylor said, “I guess Scully thought if he couldn’t get the halo on you that he’d try to damage you in some way.”
Sophia took a step and almost fell over. “Whoa. Scully really nailed me.”
Taylor grabbed her arm to steady her. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Need to assess,” Sophia said. After a few seconds, she stood tall and said, “I think I’m okay.”
“Let’s get Scully locked away in a closet,” Taylor said. “Wouldn’t want him to be calling security after he comes to.” Taylor grabbed the unconscious Scully around the shoulders, Sophia lifted his feet, and they carried him to a side closet. Taylor used his master key to open the closet door. Taylor and Sophia set Scully down gently. Taylor removed Scully’s wrist computer, then reached into Scully’s right pants pocket and removed his master key, both of which he pocketed. “This should make it harder for him to cause us trouble.” Taylor locked the door behind him as he and Sophia exited the closet.
“We need to get to my office,” Sophia said, her speech significantly slurred. “It’ll be only a matter of time before Shane finds out that Scully didn’t succeed in terminating me. Lucky for us, the hall security screens are worked almost exclusively by humans. This should make it
easier for us to move around.”
“Let’s go,” Taylor said.
On the way to the elevator, Sophia stumbled and stuck out her hand to break a fall to the floor. Taylor rushed to her.
She straightened up and said, “I . . . I . . . don’t think I’m functioning properly. My thinking . . . isn’t as quick as it needs to be. It’s clear . . . but not as quick . . . as it needs to be.”
Taylor helped her to the elevator bay. He hit a button to summon the elevator. He gazed into her eyes and got a tense feeling in his stomach. “You’ll be fine,” he said.
It was hard for Sophia to get the words out. “This might be on you. The plan . . . the plan that must be carried out. It might . . . all depend on you.”
64
The elevator stopped on the floor of Sophia’s office. The doors opened. No one in the hall. “Lucky us,” Taylor said, indirectly giving thanks to the good fortune provided by the Founders Day holiday. Taylor began striding to her office, but he stopped when he realized Sophia lagged several steps behind him. She displayed a significant limp.
“How are you doing?” Taylor asked.
“Not too good. I feel I’m losing it.”
“Hang in there. You’re stronger than you think. You have spirit, Sophia. You have will. More than most humans. When the body and mind—or in your case, the hardware and software—say it can’t be done, the spirit often wills us to the finish line.”
“Thanks for the words of confidence,” she said. “You have a strong spirit too.”
“A mutual admiration society. That’s what we’ve become.” They shared a soft, uneasy laugh.
