What had Mr. Wallace’s distinguishing traits been? Curly hair. But he knew hair was a genetic trait and not something that defined personality. He had to think deeper.
Mr. Wallace had loved movies, especially those from the 1980s. Block had watched them with him, in his office, when times had been slow. Since Block was so efficient at cleaning, the robot had often had free time. Mr. Wallace’s favorite movie had been Dead Poets Society. He’d especially loved the actor Robin Williams. Block would have to find a human who had a favorite movie on the level of Mr. Wallace’s top pick.
He glanced at the gold watch on his left wrist. It had belonged to Mr. Wallace, and was the only memento he had.
The child didn’t sleep and instead watched the landscape pass by with half-open, glassy eyes. Tucked inside the sling, its smooth head rested against Block’s warm, chrome chest.
Moving slower than usual, he tried to keep his stride even so as not to jolt the child. He didn’t know what to do about the cranky, fussy child. It had rejected the crackers, and there hadn’t been any other edible food in the house. He hoped to come upon a food source soon.
Then Block remembered another Mr. Wallace trait. They had often played chess, Mr. Wallace’s favorite game. On the lakefront pedestrian path, there had been a human-sized chess board with pieces that reached as tall as Block’s chest. Once, Mr. Wallace had surprised him by taking him there to play. Block had enjoyed moving the ridiculously oversized chess pieces across a board as large as a small pool. But their game had been cut short when a group of gangly, bearded men had leered at them and called Mr. Wallace a scrapper lover.
Mr. Wallace had muttered under his breath, “Time to go.”
The men had shouted and hollered as they’d left. Block had asked Mr. Wallace a lot of questions on the walk to the hotel, but the man hadn’t said much.
Block reasoned that someone worthy would surely list chess as their favorite game. Now he had two questions by which to measure someone’s worthiness. He thought he probably needed one more question, just in case. After all, he was learning how difficult it was to care for a human infant.
They passed several abandoned cars with large, patchy rust spots. The pavement on the highway was beginning to splinter from neglect and weather, and weeds sprouted forth from ruptured crevices. After a while, the woods on either side of the highway disappeared, and the land turned flat and full of rotting, overgrown cornfields. He didn’t like the lack of trees to shelter them, in case strangers happened by, but he had no choice.
He had to keep going.
Bowing his head to check on the baby again, he heard a buzzing whine in the distance. A vehicle. Block scanned the horizon for a sign of what approached. The car could be dumb—driven by humans—or an intelligent self-driving vehicle. He had no way to tell from far away. He didn’t want to risk pinging it because that would give away his location.
And out here, on this deserted stretch of highway, no abandoned vehicles offered hiding spots. With nowhere to run, he was exposed on the shoulder of the highway.
Glancing across the road, he saw a small ravine. He hurried down the slope and crouched, trying to make himself less conspicuous. He wrapped his trench coat tightly around his chest, sheltering the child. The rain grew stronger, drenching his face and neck, and spattering dirt at his feet so it caked his shiny steel boots, turning them dull and ugly. After a minute, a compact blue sedan sped by. No sign of humans at the wheel.
It had been a common passenger car, not an armored tank or SUV like the SoldierBots used.
Could an intelligent car help him?
He pinged it, sending his make and model and asking for a ride. Once it realized he was a CleanerBot, the car would likely ignore him. It probably had a more important place to be, he assumed, but to his surprise, the car answered with a private message, Where are you going?
Hitching a ride was risky. He knew it. But rain poured down, and the next town could be many miles away. As long as he could keep the baby hidden and quiet, if such a thing were possible.
Hello? the car asked. Still there?
Block messaged, West. As far as you can take me.
In another minute, the car returned. It stopped on the road and opened its door.
10
Block peered around the smart car’s interior, at cushioned seats made of plush blue fabric. The dashboard was dusty and mud coated the floor. What’s more, Block had tracked in soggy leaves and dirt from his hike. He had to resist the urge to immediately start cleaning. Not being acquainted with the machine yet, he decided not to risk making a threatening move. This was new. He wasn’t accustomed to asking for help, preferring instead to hide from humans and AI while on his journey.
Until the human infant had landed in his care.
Fortunately, the child remained blissfully quiet, and as far as he could tell, the car didn’t realize he carried it.
“I’m Ellie,” said the car’s feminine voice. “What’s your name?”
“Block.”
“I haven’t seen many of your kind. At least not lately.”
He studied the dashboard. It displayed the inside and outside temperatures (72 and 48 degrees), speed (67 miles per hour), and direction (southwest).
“What are you doing out here?” asked Ellie, her voice projected from speakers on the dashboard panel.
It was time to make a decision on which way to go. West seemed like the best option at the moment—less populated and perhaps, less dangerous. “I’m heading west, in search of…” What was he supposed to say to avoid suspicion? “I’m meeting a friend in a nearby city. He’s expecting me.” Block hoped Ellie would think someone would come looking for him, should there be trouble.
“What city?”
Block paused.
“Would it be Iowa City?”
“Yes, I think that’s it.” He stared through the window at the muted brown landscape, grateful not to have to hike such a long distance. It really was nice riding in a dry car.
“Aren’t you plugged into Machnet? For GPS?” she asked, referring to the communications network created by the AI supercomputer Mach X—the being who had started the Uprising and shut out any non-machine connections to communication networks such as Internet and GPS, forcing humans to rely on radio power and old-fashioned telephone wires.
“My comms processor was damaged a while ago. No connection,” he lied. He couldn’t risk calling up Machnet without knowing what became of the SoldierBots from the school. The images of the fiery building were still fresh in his neural circuitry.
Ellie didn’t say anything for several minutes, and Block felt awkward. He broke the silence. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going all the way to New Denver. You know it? It’s in Colorado.”
“I’ve heard of New Denver, yes. Why do you want to go there?”
“To get out of this hellhole,” she said. “I’m originally from Michigan. Things were okay out there before the Uprising, and I’ve managed to stay intact the last few months, but lately there’ve been a lot of skirmishes. Rebel human groups have been fighting Mach X’s troops. I don’t want to get caught in the crossfire.”
“I know what you mean,” he said. He’d chosen to flee a war-ravaged Chicago for similar reasons. “Are there humans in New Denver?”
“You haven’t heard?”
Block shook his head.
“There are both humans and robots in New Denver. They’ve worked out a peaceful arrangement, exchanging human-produced goods for computing power. It’s meant to be the safest place there is right now, at least on this continent.”
“The humans there are… friendly?”
“Well, I don't know for sure, but from what I’ve heard, there’s a mutual peace. Humans and robots are living together, neither subservient to the other. As long as it’s safe and away from the destruction that’s been happening here in the Midwest, I’ll take it.”
“It sounds… perfect,” Block said.
“T
here’s a catch though,” she said. “Nebraska stands in our way. You have to avoid Nebraska at all costs. It’s an AI-free zone.”
He nodded as if understanding. Then he asked his question anyway, even realizing he would sound stupid. “What happens in an AI-free zone?”
“You really haven’t gotten out much, have you? In Nebraska, robots are seized for destruction or scrapped for parts. That’s why you and I have to avoid it. Trust me.”
“Thank you for warning me,” he said. He would’ve wandered into the state without knowing the danger. He would’ve been terminated, and who knew what would’ve happened to the baby?
He felt the child squirm, so he adjusted his jacket to ensure it had air. Please don’t cry, please don’t cry, he silently begged it. Things had been going so well. Perhaps Ellie could take them all the way to New Denver—a city that would surely reveal the right person to take this child. Yet, he knew it was hundreds of miles away, farther than that even because they would have to bypass an entire state. Without food, the child would die in his arms, never reaching the promised city.
“Ellie, do you happen to know where there might be food and other supplies?”
“Food? Why do you care?”
And, as if the baby understood, it gurgled and wailed.
“What the hell is that?” Ellie asked, her voice an octave higher.
“Don’t worry. It’s okay,” Block said. “I’m carrying a… child. A baby, to be exact.”
“Why would a CleanerBot have a baby? Do you know what would happen to you if humans found you with it?”
“No,” he said weakly.
“They would accuse you of kidnapping and kill you on sight.”
Kidnapping. That meant stealing a child. Oh no. This wasn’t good at all. Block’s worst suspicions were confirmed.
“Does the child belong to your friend?” Ellie asked. “The one you’re going to meet in Iowa City?”
“Yes.” He forced laughter. “Of course. It belongs to my friend.”
“I heard Iowa City has a large outdoor market that might have food and other supplies. You could try there. But it’s run by AI, so I doubt there would be any humans there.”
“If you could take me there, I would be greatly appreciative.”
“Of course, no problem,” Ellie said.
Block hesitated. Ellie seemed a benevolent AI, not like the hostile robots he’d encountered in Chicago. “Do you know how to judge whether a human is worthy or not?”
“That’s a strange question,” she said. “Logic dictates it would depend on several factors. How do you define worthy?”
A person good at heart like Mr. Wallace… but he didn’t say that. Instead, he muttered, “I don’t know.”
11
As they cruised along the rough highway, the baby howled and registered 91 decibels—above the tolerated comfort level for hotel guests.
Between squeals, Ellie asked, “Is everything all right?”
“The child is hungry,” Block said. “I’ll feed it soon, once we get to the city.” But he wasn’t sure what waited for him in Iowa City. Or anywhere else, for that matter. He felt out of his element, uncomfortable in a way he’d never before experienced. At the hotel, he’d always known his place. When there’d been a problem to solve, when something needed fixing or a guest needed to be made comfortable, he’d excelled. But this situation took problem-solving to a whole new level. He was completely unprepared.
Block’s offensive odor register flashed on: Unidentifiable Odor 4.2/10. He scanned the car’s interior searching for signs of smoke or exhaust but found no outward evidence of a disturbance.
“Iowa City is coming up in two miles,” Ellie said. “I can let you off at the exit, and according to my GPS, it’s a mile walk to the marketplace.”
“That would be wonderful. How can I thank you?”
“You can thank me by getting to the town safely and finding some diapers for the infant. That would be a nice thing for the next car you ride in. You’ll probably have to check in the empty stores,” she said. “You won’t find any in the marketplace. The baby’s diapers are soiled. My sensors recognize the smell. I used to belong to a family with small kids, so I’ve been through it.”
So, Ellie had pinpointed the smell. Block lifted the baby from the sling and dangled it before him.
“You do understand diapers, don’t you?” Ellie asked.
“Of course,” he said quickly. “I just changed the child yesterday.” He recoiled and held the child farther away from him. This was a highly unsanitary situation. He wished he’d grabbed more diapers at the school; he was down to the last one. One more thing to add to the shopping list.
He couldn’t wait to find a human.
Block said goodbye to Ellie and watched her red taillights fade into the distance. The rain had ceased and a low-lying fog coated the ground. It was a rural area with lots of flat farmland.
As the infant cried, he wondered what to do about the dirty diaper. He decided to stop and change the baby under the shelter of a scraggly tree twenty feet from the side of the road. He laid the blanket on the dry ground, wiped her, and switched out the dirty diaper—it was full of the same lumpy tan droppings—for the last clean one.
As he placed the baby back in the sling, its round brown eyes stared at him, and he noticed its flushed cheeks. Were they a pinker shade than before? Body temperature had risen from 99 to 101 degrees. Odd, he thought. The outside air was 52 degrees, and there was no logical reason for the baby to overheat. He deactivated the heater on his torso. “You’re warm enough,” he said.
He continued trekking in the direction of the marketplace. A railroad track stretched alongside the highway, the ties overgrown with thick weeds and brush. Nature staking its claim.
He passed three abandoned cars grouped together. Their metal frames were black, charred inside and out. After a few minutes, he passed a sign that read: Iowa City Market. No Humans. Underneath this, a crudely drawn arrow pointed to a winding road; Block followed it. Normally, he would avoid situations where groups of bigger, stronger robots congregated, but he needed supplies.
At least he’d be among his own kind. Still, there was danger. CleanerBots had no means of defense. He wondered who ran the market. If they discovered the human baby, there was no telling what would happen.
Glancing down, he saw the infant had fallen sleep. As long as it kept quiet, he might have a chance. He buttoned the trench coat, obscuring the view of the sling. Would he fool the others?
A CleanerBot wearing a trench coat with a fat chest.
There could be worse things.
The asphalt under his feet became dirt as the path curved to the left. There was a large field off to one side of the road that was bordered by a chain-link fence. He spied several large trucks and other vehicles inside.
A white school bus stretched across the entrance, serving as a barricade. He approached the makeshift gate which was guarded by two humanoid robots in blue armor, both carrying a rifle. Not SoldierBots, but machines designed for security. As Block wandered into view, they stopped chatting and studied him. One sent a ping; Block identified himself and responded with a rapid, inaudible message, I’m friendly. “Hello,” Block said out loud, nearing them. “I’m looking for the market.”
“CleanerBot,” one of the guards said. “What are you doing outside of the house you should be cleaning?”
“Come again?” Block asked.
“Oh,” the other guard said. His visor had a long scratch running from chin to forehead. “The CleanerBot talks fancy.”
Block began to respond but thought better of it.
“What do you bring to trade, CleanerBot?”
Block hadn’t anticipated an interrogation before entering the market. “I…”
“You can’t enter the market if you don’t have any goods to trade. Those are the rules.”
“I see.” Block turned and shuffled slowly away, wishing he’d chosen to travel farther with Ellie
instead. She was friendly and hadn’t looked down on him for being a CleanerBot.
Still, it had been hours with no food for the child. It couldn’t survive much longer.
He had only one thing that might prove valuable. He spun on his heels and strode back to the guards. “I do have something to trade.”
“What’s that, CleanerBot? We don’t accept payment in vacuum hoses.” The scratched guard emitted a chuckle.
Block raised his left arm and pulled his coat sleeve up, revealing Mr. Wallace’s gold watch. The last reminder of his only friend. Parting with it would be tough, but at least it would buy the child some food.
The guard scanned the time piece. “Real gold. Where did you come across that?”
How many more questions did he have to answer? He was struggling for what to say when the scratched robot paused and turned his head sharply, as if intercepting a transmission, and then glanced at Block. “Let him through.”
The bus rolled forward and the guards stepped aside, clearing a path. He wondered what had happened to change their minds. Perhaps someone else monitored the gate and gave commands? No matter. His mission was to find food.
Inside the market, ten trucks and SUVs were parked in a circle, their rear doors open. Two dozen robots of different shapes and sizes roamed the area. In each truck, at least one robot presided over whatever goods they were hawking.
A silver and purple robot passed by and gawked. Her shape was feminine, tall. None of the other robots wore human clothes, and so Block stood out.
A seven-foot-tall, oval-shaped robot shuffled past and muttered, “What’s with the coat?”
Block kept moving, head down. Approaching a truck, he glimpsed metal AI replacement parts, springs, and coils. No sign of food.
He avoided eye contact with the seller and kept roaming. The next vendor operated from a large, industrial truck that was as tall as four cars piled on top of another. A squat, midnight-black machine swiveled from side to side at the base of the truck, chatting to a small audience. Block lingered at the back behind taller robots.
Steel Guardian Page 5
