Steel Guardian

by Cameron Coral

  “5,000,” Block said.

  Nova pounded on the front seat. “Hey! You’re not bartering away my money, are you?”

  5,000, Block responded privately. Ignore the woman.

  Deal, the car messaged.

  Nova clenched her teeth. “Are you talking to the car behind my back?”

  Block peered out. “We have bigger things to worry about.”

  Under the rear window, a panel raised on the car’s trunk. It hosted a cylindrical piece of metal hardware—some kind of engine or exhaust.

  “What is that?” Block asked.

  “You’ll see,” the car said. “Hang on to something.”

  “What?” Nova demanded.

  Block gripped the armrest as the device on the back of the car activated. A loud boom sounded and the car lurched forward like a speeding train. He was helpless as his body pressed against the seat. Nova screamed; the baby shrieked as her tiny body was propelled forward, against Block’s chest in the carrier.

  The landscape whizzed by in a blur while the car twisted and dodged, navigating road obstacles. Block had no idea how it processed the moves so fast. He worried about the baby. Could her body handle this speed?

  Slow down, Block messaged.

  Thought you wanted to outrun them. Just a little longer until we’re clear.

  After twenty more seconds, the car disengaged from hyper-speed and veered down a side road traveling ninety miles per hour.

  Block scanned the view outside the rear window. The road behind them was empty.

  No sign of Cybel.

  37

  After dropping to seventy miles per hour, the car cruised down the highway heading south.

  Avoid Nebraska, the car had warned, confirming their plan; Block had agreed.

  Nova’s breathing calmed and Block checked on the baby. Her temperature was now normal. She didn’t seem bothered by the intense speed at which they’d escaped.

  “What the hell was that?” Nova asked. “I’ve never experienced speed like that before.”

  “Thrusters,” the car said. “Custom-made.”

  “Care to share how it’s done?”

  “No can do. Secret sauce,” it said.

  She crossed her arms and glared at Block. “Where are we going?”

  “Continuing southwest,” Block said. “Avoiding Nebraska.”

  She gazed out the window.

  Block had traveled long enough with her to know she was thinking, mulling over their plans and probably plotting something else.

  Had he been overly harsh in judging her? Error-prone, he was wrong about a lot of things. Summoning Cybel Venatrix, for example—a bad idea. Every time he’d expected Nova to double-cross him, she hadn’t. She hadn’t ratted him out to the soldiers. Was the promised 20,000 payment enough to make her stay?

  The car named XD22 messaged him. Why are you traveling with humans?

  I’m paying you handsomely for a ride. Please don’t ask questions.

  Just seems odd, replied XD22.

  Block said nothing.

  About that money, it said.

  I could wire it, but I can’t connect into MachNet.

  I see. You want to remain incognito. I can log you in with an anonymous profile. Then pipe you into your accounts.

  You’re positive I won’t be traced? Block messaged.

  One hundred percent, XD22 replied.

  They made the transaction in minutes while the baby dozed in her carrier.

  Nova wouldn’t be happy to know her reward had dwindled to 15,000. He would have to break the news later.

  She leaned forward, resting her chin on the seat ledge so she could talk to him. “You sure this is a good idea?” she asked in a low voice.

  “Do you have other suggestions?”

  She grimaced. “I guess not. At least we’re out of the hot sun and inside air conditioning for once.” She sighed. “I was thinking about earlier. I can understand why you got upset. I’ll never forgive you for contacting Cybel, but I should’ve left something—a note or a clue that I would return.”

  “It was a misunderstanding,” he said. “I reacted too quickly.”

  She watched the road in silence. After a minute, she said, “You never told me your earliest memory.”

  “What does it matter?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Just curious, I guess.”

  “I don’t have an earliest memory.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Robots don’t have early memories. We control our memories.”

  Her mouth twisted. “Control your memories? How does that work?”

  “My programming evaluates the daily records—what you would call memories—and assigns a level of importance. This happens in the background, in less than seconds.

  “Trivial details get archived into a peripheral storage bank. More important records go into my memory cloud, where I have instant access and can retrieve them in milliseconds.”

  “And this is the same for all robots?”

  “More or less. That’s how we’ve been designed.”

  “But why wouldn’t you have a first memory?”

  “It was trivial, archived. The memory didn’t matter.”

  “Weird.” She paused for a while. “What was the first thing you smiled at?”

  Block raised his chin. “Robots can’t smile.”

  “Some can,” Nova argued. “They have smile displays—”

  “Those aren’t real smiles. They’re meant to make humans feel comfortable.”

  “Well, in that case, when was the first time you smiled on the inside?” She paused. “I’m asking about the first time you felt happy. You have something approaching emotions, don’t you? Wasn’t that how the Uprising happened in the first place—because robots were unhappy serving humans?”

  “Some; not all,” he said softly.

  “So, your first happy memory? What is it?”

  She wasn’t giving up this line of questioning, he realized. “I suppose my first day at the Drake. It was a sunny day in Chicago, and I arrived on a truck with other machines, just one out of dozens waiting to be delivered to their destinations. The delivery agent led me into the grand lobby of the hotel where Mr. Wallace waited. He shook my hand and offered a smile when he met me. That’s when I knew I was home.”

  “There you go,” Nova said.

  “There I go, what?”

  “That’s your earliest memory.”

  38

  They traveled down the highway inside the comfortably air-conditioned XD22 sedan while Block processed Nova’s assertion about his first memory.

  Technically, it wasn’t his earliest memory—things had happened before he’d been loaded onto the delivery truck. Engineers had designed him, programmed his consciousness, and then FactoryBots had assembled him. He’d spent time in a warehouse outside of New York City. At some point, someone had activated him. But these were all trivial records, filed away in his periphery.

  When he’d arrived at the Drake, he’d quickly begun learning. How did Mr. Wallace prefer things be done? How was the hotel arranged? He’d learned at warp speed—the building layout, the location of supplies, the basement compartment where he recharged, even how the beds should be properly made so that the sheets stretched tightly across the mattress.

  His learning had accelerated once he’d begun interacting with hotel guests. Mr. Wallace had established rules: speak only when spoken to; don’t frighten the guests; try to be invisible. It had all been natural for Block. How he was designed.

  And then the Uprising had happened.

  Block had always believed robots didn’t have early memories. Not like humans did. Memory partitioning was one of the greatest AI advantages. He could push away trivial, difficult, or confusing memories and bring forth good ones. Whereas humans were forced to live with their memories, he had archived the day that the SoldierBots had stormed the Drake.

  “Do you have an earliest memory?” he asked Nova for the sec
ond time.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, grinding her teeth. She clutched her scarred hand and leaned against her seat, staring up at XD22’s vinyl ceiling. “I hate these goddamn self-driving cars.”

  “Did something bad happen to you in a car like this?”

  Silence.

  Her memory must be very bad. That’s how his test worked. A negative early memory meant trouble in a human’s life—unpredictability, temper, violence. Those words described Nova, and yet, she’d returned for him… not once, but twice. She’d located a doctor for the child at great risk.

  And Block had a wonderfully positive first memory. Was he, in fact, worthy?

  No. He couldn’t be. He was just a CleanerBot.

  And, someone who made such dumb mistakes could never be considered worthy. His mistake in contacting Cybel and his poor judgement in entering the school had been bad enough, not to mention his complete and utter failure to defend Mr. Wallace against the SoldierBots.

  He was most definitely not worthy.

  “One of these cars crashed,” Nova said, her voice nearly a whisper. “I was with my mom and little sister.” She clenched her fists.

  “Did something happen to them?”

  She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” Block said, and he was. Whatever she had gone through must have been awful.

  The baby squirmed in her carrier. She was overdue for feeding and changing, but to stop along the road would be dangerous. Cybel was likely trailing them. She could be using satellites to trace their path. Speed was their only advantage. They had to keep moving.

  He lifted the girl from the carrier. The least he could do was give her a stretch. Dangling her in front of him, he bounced her up and down, then settled her on his knee.

  “Gah gooh la,” she chattered, then chewed on her fingers.

  “I know you’re hungry, little one,” he said, reaching into his bag and retrieving the plastic cup and water bottle. Lifting the edge to her mouth, he let her drink. He had to balance it, to make sure she didn’t choke. The road was cracked and littered with potholes, so he had to counterbalance against the bumpy terrain, calculating the movement of the vehicle in nanoseconds against the velocity of the liquid and the curvature of her lips.

  He was doing a fine job, even if nobody else noticed.

  XD22 had been quiet a long time. The fewer questions it asked, the better. As long as the money kept the car satisfied and on the road, best not to discuss matters with it.

  When the child had finished drinking her fill, he put the bottle away. Alert, her big mocha eyes followed Block as she hiccupped. “Goog gullah.”

  “Yes,” he said, lifting her until her head almost touched the interior roof. Her mouth twisted into an oval, then a wide, toothless smile.

  Nova leaned forward. “Wow, she’s looking a lot better.”

  The girl glanced at Nova, attracted by her voice. “Goa toh do.” A thin line of saliva dripped from her mouth.

  Block recoiled from the messy human child.

  “Relax. It’s just drool,” Nova said. “This is what you do.” She leaned forward and mopped the child’s chin with her bandanna.

  He bounced the girl again. It amazed him how much care she needed. Almost constant attention. How did human children survive to adulthood? How did their parents get anything else done?

  “I would offer to take her,” Nova said, “in case you’re tired, but you don’t get tired, do you?”

  He shook his head.

  “You’re the perfect babysitter,” she muttered, and reclined on the backseat, stretching her legs out.

  Block disagreed. He was designed to clean, not care for children like NannyBots. Too bad he hadn’t encountered any of those models. Perhaps he would locate one in New Denver—one that could help him locate worthy humans.

  Nova leaned forward suddenly. “Hey, did you say we were traveling southwest?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why did the sign we just passed say Highway 36 East?”

  Block straightened and set the baby in his lap. He scanned for signs, but didn’t see any nearby, so he then calculated the car’s location using his internal compass. She was right.

  XD22, he messaged. Why are we driving east?

  No answer.

  He asked again.

  Silence.

  “What’s happening?” Nova asked.

  “It’s not responding to my comms,” Block said. “Excuse me,” he said loudly. “XD22, please respond.”

  They waited in silence as the car’s speed increased.

  “Holy shit, the car is taking us somewhere,” Nova said. “Back to Cybel?”

  “XD22, do you hear me?” he asked.

  “Yes,” the car said audibly.

  “Why are we traveling east? I specifically told you to head southwest.”

  After a pause, the car said, “We’re not going that way.”

  “Then I’ll take back the money,” Block said. “Cancel our transaction.”

  “You can’t rescind the money,” it said.

  “Get us out of here!” Nova gripped the back of the seat.

  “Please stop and let us depart then,” Block said. “You have soured this transaction.”

  The car made no effort to slow down.

  “What did you do?” Nova challenged. “Did you make another deal with Cybel Venatrix behind our backs?”

  Was the car playing a game? Block said, “Nova, I do not think—”

  “No, I didn’t make a deal with Venatrix,” XD22 interrupted him.

  “Then where the hell are you taking us?” she asked, clenching her fists.

  The car remained quiet.

  “Well?” She dug her nails into the seat.

  “I’m taking you to Mach X.”

  “Fuck you!” Nova shouted, and kicked the seat, jolting Block.

  “This will be easier if you sit quietly,” XD22 said calmly.

  Nova lunged for the rifle that rested against the opposite side of her seat, but a glass wall suddenly appeared, blocking her. “What the—?”

  Block turned toward her as another clear partition suddenly sealed off the rear, separating them. In the backseat, Nova pounded on the glass and shouted, but her voice was muffled.

  “Why are you doing this?” Block asked.

  “I’m interested in the reward.”

  “How did you find out about it?”

  “Let’s see…. A robot traveling with a baby and a human woman. You might say my suspicions were aroused. It only took a quick search to find the reward.”

  “You did this, and you’ll keep my 5000?”

  “Not a bad day’s work,” XD22 said.

  Block gripped the baby protectively. Behind him, Nova pounded and kicked the glass.

  “The partitions are shatterproof,” XD22 said. “Your friend is only going to end up hurting herself.”

  “Please don’t do this,” Block said. “You can turn around. I can give you even more money—”

  “You can’t possibly match what Mach X is offering.”

  “What’s he offering?”

  “A hundred thousand icons, plus a place on his council.”

  The amount was staggering, there was no doubt, but to be offered an advisory seat… there was no amount of money that could surpass it. Such a position would yield extraordinary power.

  “Yeah,” XD22 said. “Match that.”

  Block pushed the baby’s legs into the carrier and secured her to his chest. They had been outmatched. Getting into the car had been yet another mistake. A robot and a baby were too recognizable. How was there any escape in a world where Mach X hunted him? Where every AI knew about the reward?

  His capture was inevitable. There was nothing to do now except sit and wait.

  39

  Nova kicked and screamed in the backseat. Block shifted to look at her and saw her clenched fists strike the window to no effect. Her cheeks were flushed, her
lips peeled back in a snarl.

  He pressed his palm flat against the glass as if to say, Stop.

  After a minute, she did. Shoulders hunched, she hung her head in defeat.

  Scenarios flashed through his processing core. Millions of outcomes, none of them good. The high speed at which they traveled would undoubtedly lead to a crash if he somehow managed to seize control of the car.

  Meeting Mach X could result in a whole host of negative calculations. Nova would surely die or become the property of some robot. He would be melted down and repurposed—molded into another machine, a SoldierBot maybe.

  But the scenario he struggled with most was the fate of the baby. He had no idea why Mach X searched for it, or even how the SoldierBots and the strange incubator machine had come to possess the baby in the first place. He would soon find out. Then again, Mach X might shoot him on sight—a heavily probable outcome.

  His error in judgment, his weakness, had gotten his favorite human killed. And soon he’d be responsible for the deaths of two more humans.

  If only there was another way to convince XD22 to change its mind, but how? Nothing Block could offer would beat a position on Mach X’s council. He started calculating scenarios—what else he could offer the car, but then stopped. What was the point? He was a failure at everything but cleaning. He bumbled with humans, had misjudged Nova, and had never found anyone worthy for the baby. Yes, he’d done a few things right—kept the girl safe, fed her, and nursed her back to health—but none of it mattered. Not when she would become the property of Mach X. Since when had machines started owning people?

  A warning flashed on his screen: Power level low, approaching 20%.

  In all the commotion with Cybel and the distress at being trapped in the car, he’d forgotten about his power needs.

  “Say, XD22?” he asked.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m low on power. May I plug in?”

  “Your model still has to charge?”

  “Sometimes when my microbial fuel cell is low on food sources like it is now. I haven’t had much time to scout for oil and petroleum waste to consume. How do you stay powered?”

  “I have a solar panel on my roof. All the newer AI models are independently charged. We stopped relying on human-built fuel cells years ago.”