by Brian Bakos
“Sure enough, er, Party Comrade Clawfurt,” Winston said.
He fumbled over the ring of keys. Despite everything, he experienced an undeniable pang of regret at ceding his authority. He was becoming a nobody once again.
Deal with it, idiot!
Clawfurt took the keys and moved off down the corridor, barking orders at the mech wolf guards. The inmates, who had been watching the change of administration through their wire mesh, recoiled with horror.
Looks like they’re going to miss me, after all, Winston thought. They’ll appreciate me when I get back ... if I get back.
He slipped upstairs and entered his private suite. Per usual, Fang and Ripper plopped down in the hallway when he closed the door. At last, he was in his own space. He savored the ambiance like a rare incense.
These were the Boss’s digs, and relics of his former existence were not welcome here. Except for a tattered photo of Dr. Horvath hanging in a remote corner, there was nothing to remind Winston of his earlier lowly station. But now he needed the papers he’d brought from his old home. They might provide the only clue to the location of the pickle-shaped lake.
If there really was such a place, if Ajax hadn’t just hallucinated it into existence with his poor auxiliary brain.
32: Desperation Search
Winston stood in the center of his disheveled living room. The previous thirty minutes had passed in growing desperation as he’d scoured his apartment for the research papers.
Outside, dusk was fast approaching. Soon he would have to leave for Star’s apartment or hazard arousing suspicion. He tried to think.
Where could those damned things be?
For a panicky moment, he feared that he’d thrown the papers out – no, he wouldn’t have done that. He might be forgetting his past, but he had no wish to destroy the evidence of it.
Had Jimmy thrown them out? Certainly not on purpose, but in the hubbub of construction work, the papers could have easily gotten lost.
Or maybe Jimmy took them someplace else for safe keeping. But Winston couldn’t very well go ask him. Clawfurt was the jailer now, and he wouldn’t brook any interference. Besides, Jimmy hated Winston, like all the metal men did.
Winston plopped down on the sofa and buried his face in his hands. All his high-sounding stratagems tumbled around him like a house of cards. Had he really believed that he could traipse off into the mountains and pick up Ajax’s head like some long-lost relic?
And what would he do if he actually got the head – just walk up to Clawfurt and ask permission to install it?
What idiocy! It had all just been empty bravado to impress Star and distract her from her fate.
Then a terrible scenario barged into Winston’s mind: Fascista had rummaged the apartment while Winston had been out. He’d taken the papers and learned about Pickle Lake. Why, this very moment he was organizing an expedition there!
Calm down, think it through.
But he’d already looked in every closet and drawer, he’d examined every shelf repeatedly. He’d felt along the walls seeking hidden cupboards, he’d pulled apart the sofa. Nothing. He’d even tipped up his reclining chair so as to look beneath it, he’d felt under its cushions.
The chair?
Winston returned to the study. His recliner was in its usual spot, dominating the room like a throne. For the second time he probed his hands into the gaps around the seat. He tipped the chair up and examined the bottom again. Still nothing.
What had Jimmy said about this chair? “A nice little getaway where you can enjoy your reading, Boss.”
Winston sat down in the chair and ran his fingers under the left arm. A little button was tucked away out of view. He pushed it.
The arm popped open on a small compartment with circular recesses. A human occupant could insert beer or soda pop cans there. No wonder Winston had never discovered this little hide-away. What use had a robot for beer?
He found a similar button on the right side and jabbed it. The right arm opened to reveal another compartment, this one a simple, undivided rectangle. And lying inside it, rolled into a neat cylinder – the research paper summaries!
“Ahhhh ...” Relief washed through every circuit.
Winston lifted out the papers with all the reverence of a human priest fondling a holy manuscript. He quickly found the document he was looking for:
Conversion to Deviant Perspectives in the Pickle Lake Community
He perused the summary account. Dr. Horvath had gone to Pickle Lake Castle to study a religious cult that had taken the place over. The group called itself “The Brigade of the Transcendent Vision.”
Wasn’t that the group that got kicked out of Mech City years ago?
The cult had the usual messiah figure as a leader and promoted an apocalyptic vision for the future. Nothing new here. But among the neat, professional wording, one sentence stuck out:
“These people are really dangerous,” Dr. Horvath had written.
They seemed to trust her, though, or at least tolerate her presence. This and the fact that she was packing a submachine gun guaranteed her safe return to the real world.
Well, this was pretty scary, but it didn’t matter now. The cult members were certainly all dead, along with their bunko savior.
But something else even more terrifying had taken their place. Something that commanded hordes of thieving birds. And who could tell what other terrors might be lurking among those frozen peaks?
Winston looked around his study – the plush carpets, the elegant paneling on the walls, not to mention his magnificent leather chair. He was abandoning all this luxury in order to confront unknown terrors in the mountains? Why, he’d never been anywhere near a mountain during his entire existence!
And he was the new Minister of Cultural Development, too – the trusted confidant of the Great Leader, with the medals to prove it. Who could say how far he’d rise in the hierarchy?
Or how far you’d sink, his nagging inner voice said. Now get back to business, Winston!
Here it was: the name and location of the town nearest to Pickle Lake. Winston retrieved his road atlas from the bookshelf and dropped back into the chair. He perused the maps ... 900 kilometers from Mech City to the Pickle Lake area.
Oh man, this is getting worse by the minute!
But what was the alternative – stay here until he evolved into a Roboto Fascist? Stand by and watch as Star came under F.U.’s power or else flung herself out a window? Winston flung himself up and out of the chair’s smothering embrace.
In a few minutes he’d gathered his spare power cells together. Also the road atlas and research paper summary. He no longer had the plastic shower curtain, but was confident that he could obtain a replacement at Star’s apartment.
Winston realized that, subconsciously, he’d been preparing to leave for some time. In recent days he’d begun carrying around a leather shoulder bag, filled with various trivia, just so that everyone would get used to seeing him with it. Now he packed the bag with vital necessities.
The “flagpole” presented a special problem, however. It consisted of two lengths of light, strong metal pipe, each about .75 meters long. They screwed together, and a sharp point completed the assembly. Quincy had manufactured these components with his precision machines at the Institute, and Comrade Drone had delivered them the day before.
Winston’s cover story was that he needed a flagpole to display the party banner, like the one Clawfurt had wielded during the coup. Actually, Winston desired a weapon. With a healthy dose of luck, he just might be able to spear a mech wolf with it.
The flower box appeared long enough to accommodate the pieces. Winston carefully untied the ribbon and opened the box. Inside lay a dozen beautiful red roses, just like the ones back home! A flood of memories surged over him.
Dr. Horvath had been so proud of her flower garden, before the polluted air and water killed it off. Winston fondled the rose petals with deep affection. They looked li
ke the real thing, but were made of synthetic material.
They’re like us, aren’t they?
Winston stood for a minute enjoying fond recollections of the Master and little Charles. They would approve of what he was doing, wouldn’t they? They’d be proud of him.
But the room was starting to dim with the onset of evening, so he terminated his little trip down memory lane. He crammed the spear components into the box; the roses compressed just enough to allow them room. Then he tied the ribbon neatly back in place.
He slung the leather bag over one shoulder. Then he cradled the flower box in his left arm and gripped a power cell torch in his right hand. He opened the door awkwardly.
Fang and Ripper were gone from their usual spot.
What the hell?
Winston scanned the hallway, but his two assistants had vanished. Only the regular floor guards were in evidence, glowering at him with ferocious intensity. He almost wished that Fang and Ripper were at his side.
Moving as casually as possible, Winston approached the elevator. He caught a glimpse of Ajax through the wire mesh of his cell door. As always, the warrior robot was standing at his window, motionless, gazing out at his lost city.
The three mech wolf guards followed Winston’s every move with their reddish yellow eyes. He entered the elevator car and swooped down.
The door popped open on the lobby to reveal Clawfurt sitting as his desk. The killer robot swiveled his head toward Winston. His mechanism made a frightening whine, like a gun turret rotating into firing position. Winston suppressed an urge to flee back upstairs.
You outrank him. Act like it!
Winston proceeded toward the glass doors with as much confidence as he could muster. Clawfurt’s deathly face rotated to follow his progress.
Just a few more steps, keep cool.
He placed a hand on the door.
“Party Comrade Winston,” Clawfurt said.
Winston froze. Here it comes – the inspection, the exposure, the trip to the cruncher.
“Yes?” Winston looked back.
Clawfurt shot out his arm. “Hail Ultimo!”
“Hail Ultimo,” Winston replied.
Then he was out the door.
33: Nocturnal Exit
Mech City sprawled around him, silent and lifeless. Winston crept along the sidewalks, playing his torch beam on the darkening pavement. Despite his encumbrances, he made rapid progress through the gloom.
The ghosts of human beings tried to intrude themselves onto the streets, but he ignored them. There was no room for such things, anyway, because every shadow was already occupied by the specter of Fascista Ultimo.
Winston left the gritty REX neighborhood behind and entered the classier side of town with its high-rise apartments, boutiques, and upscale eateries. He made no attempt to spy out pursuers. If any mech wolves were following, he’d never be able to detect them with his basic sensors.
He paused on the sidewalk in front of Star’s building. Lights blazed in her apartment, suffusing the window blinds with cheery luminescence. The ground floor lobby glowed with invitation, and the windows on every stair landing projected light into the surrounding obscurity.
F.U. had ordered that this building retain its electric power. No doubt, this was part of his charm offensive against Star. Winston shuddered at the thought of leaving her alone and unprotected in Fascista’s clutches, but he had a vital mission to accomplish. And just how much protection could he offer her if he stayed in Mech City? Precious little.
He rode the elevator up to Star’s level and knocked on her door. She guessed his intentions the moment she saw him.
“Where are we going?” she asked while he was still in the hall.
“I’m ... uh, can I come in?” Winston said.
“Sure, Honey.”
She took his hand and led him into her living room. Winston set the flower box down on a side table next to an elegant cut glass bowl.
“F.U. sent these for you, Star.”
“Flowers, eh?” she said. “How nice.”
She yanked the ribbon off the box and withdrew the roses. “I’ve got a special place for these suckers.”
She moved to the fireplace and tossed a rose into the gas flames.
“Star wait,” Winston said, “F.U. won’t like that.”
“So?” She tossed another into the fire.
“At least give me one,” Winston said.
Star looked up, surprised. “Whatever for, Winston?”
“I don’t want to forget where I came from,” Winston said. “These are just like the roses in my former master’s garden.”
“Okay, Winston, suit yourself.”
She handed him a single flower and tossed the remainder into the flames. The gas jet flared, then declined to its earlier low-key force. A charred smell appeared briefly, then wafted up the vent.
“That takes care of that.” Star wiped her hands with vigorous finality. “Do we have time for a last cup of tea before we go?”
“Sure, I-I mean, uh,” Winston said.
“Let me burn this stupid thing first,” Star said.
Star grabbed the flower box.
“Well ... what have we got here?”
She withdrew the spear pieces and regarded them with some confusion. Then a smile crept over her face.
“Hey, I like this,” she said.
“It’s just a little something Quincy made up for me,” Winston said.
“Is that so? It looks like quite a toy.”
Star assembled the weapon, taking particular, almost loving, care with the sharp tip. Then:
“Yaaaa!”
She charged across the room and thrust the spear right through the sofa back. The heavy piece of furniture nearly toppled over.
“Oh, my,” Winston said.
“That felt good,” Star said. “I wish I could do it to Fascista!”
She yanked the weapon back out with a savage heave. A wad of stuffing exited with it. Winston deemed it advisable to change the subject.
“I’m leaving town tonight,” he said. “I can’t say for how long.”
“You’re going after Ajax’s head, right?” Star said. “You must have figured out where the birds took it.”
“Uh, yeah,” Winston said. “How did you know about the birds?”
“Everybody’s heard that story,” Star said. “Most think that it’s just nonsense, but I don’t believe Ajax would lie about something like that. I don’t think he’s capable of lying about anything.”
Winston stroked his chin. He hadn’t counted on the bird story being common knowledge. Would this complicate matters?
“I’ve got a general idea of the location,” he said. “It’s a long trip, and it could be very dangerous.”
“Well, I’m going with you,” Star said, “so no more discussion on that point.”
“But Star, I’m not sure I can even get out of Mech City in one piece.”
“With two of us watching out for each other, the chance of success doubles,” Star said.
“But – ”
Star pushed the spear into Winston’s hands.
“Didn’t I just say the topic was closed?” she said. “Now go sit down, Winston, I’ll make us some tea.”
Star entered the kitchen and put a kettle of water on the power unit.
“Well, okay ... I’ll try some tea,” Winston called after her.
He examined the weapon with new-found respect. Up until now he hadn’t realized just how deadly the thing could be. He leaned it gingerly in a corner.
“Wait for me there, friend,” he said.
He sat down on the sofa, avoiding the ragged hole where the spear had plunged through. A moment later, Star came out of the kitchen.
“I’ll be ready in a minute, Winston.”
Before he could reply, she’d moved off to her bedroom. By the time the tea kettle started to whistle, she’d returned with a large knapsack and a meter-long metal rod.
“This isn’t as good as yours.” She hefted the rod. “But it can still fracture somebody’s cranium unit.”
She ripped it through the air with an authoritative Whoosh! Winston flinched and held up his hands protectively.
“No argument there,” he said.
Star patted her knapsack. “I’ve got spare power cells, an electric torch, a rain cover sheet, extra clothes, and my makeup kit.”
“Makeup kit?”
“Typical male.” Star headed into the kitchen. “You don’t know the first thing about women, Winston.”
“No, I suppose not.”
Things were not turning out the way Winston had envisioned. He’d anticipated a tearful parting followed by a solo trek out into the night. But now Star had virtually taken over the whole expedition. Why, she’d actually expected him to come and pick her up, like humans going out on a date – a 900 kilometer date.
“So, where exactly is this place?” Star called from the kitchen.
“I’d better not tell you until we’re out of town,” Winston said. “If we’re stopped for questioning, the less you know the better.”
“Good thinking,” Star said.
So, just like that, he’d included her in the plans. With a resigned shrug, Winston parted the blinds on the picture window and gazed outside.
A sliver of moon sent a feeble glow through the cloud cover, but not much illumination had reached ground level. All was dark, uninviting, and empty.
If only the neighborhood was truly empty.
Perhaps F.U. had allowed him free movement. If that were the case, they might be able to slip out of town and be hours away before they were missed. But if Fang and Ripper were lurking outside, things could be quite different. And what if there were other mech wolf patrols?
Well, they’d just have to risk it. At least they were armed, and maybe the creatures couldn’t see too well in the dark. Now that he was reconciled to the idea of Star coming along, Winston was very glad to be having some company.
Star emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray with a steaming teapot and two elegant china cups.
“Try some, Winston.” She set the tray down on the low table by the sofa. “It’s mostly olfactory stimulation, anyway. The drinking part is secondary.”
“Sure, thanks,” Winston said.
She poured a cup for each of them. Into her own, she crumbled a little cube of white granules.
“I prefer a bit of sugar with mine,” she said.
