We, Robots

by Simon Ings

  You’re my favorite, he’d said. Time and time again, as he adjusted her breasts and held her tight.

  They walked a mile in silence, then Alina asked, “My internal calendar says I’ve been in stasis for fifty years. Is that correct, Person Coren?”

  Coren was leading the way, using snow poles to test for unsafe areas. “Just call me Coren.”

  “I’m programmed for formality. Person is an appropriate title. Person also comes with a gender-neutral pronoun: per. Per talks to perself. Give it to per. Per went to the mall.”

  Coren grunted. “If it makes you happy, call me whatever. Can you be happy?”

  “I’m programmed to mimic.” Alina smiled widely. “I’m happy you rescued me.”

  “Stop that, it’s creepy.” Coren stopped, dropped the sled straps, and rubbed per shoulders. “Here’s what I’d like. I’d like you to help me set up our tent. It’s getting dark and we better bed down.”

  The tent was big enough for two people to lie down inside and to sit up if they didn’t mind being a little hunched over. The light gray fabric blended in with the snow and provided a barrier against the bitter wind. Coren also had chemical heat-packs marked with faded letters, and thermal blankets to wrap perself in, and a small camp stove that per set up outside.

  “I know how to build a campfire,” Alina offered as they hunched beside it.

  “No wood,” Coren said. “You need to eat, right? You can eat stew?”

  “My unit requires no nutrition. My nutrient reservoir sustains the fetus and needs to be augmented by a regular intake of calories.”

  Coren blinked. “So that’s a yes?”

  “Yes, per. For optimal results at this stage of gestation, I should consume one thousand calories per day. If I were human, I would need much more.”

  Coren retrieved two unlabeled tin cans from the sled. The tops had been crudely welded on. Per opened them up with a can opener and revealed meat stew. “I don’t know much about calories, but it took me longer than I thought to find you. My supplies aren’t what they should be. We might have to skimp a little or find more to get where we’re going.”

  “Are you taking me to Mark and Dan? They’ll be worried about Con Leche.”

  “Con what?”

  “The child’s nickname. It means with milk,’ as in coffee with milk.”

  “I’ve never had coffee,” Coren said. “Besides, they’re dead, remember? Or, if they are alive, I don’t know where they are, or how to get you to them.”

  Alina said, “1721 Peach Tree Lane, Cragford, Georgia.”

  “We’re not going to Georgia, robot-girl.” Coren warmed per hands over the warming cans. “That’s not my mission.”

  “Are you in the military, per?” Alina asked. “To my knowledge, the military does not accept soldiers of indeterminable gender.”

  Coren looked cross. “It’s not indeterminable. It’s just indeterminable to you. At least I have a gender. You’re just an It.”

  “I’m a She,” Alina said. “To humanize the experience.”

  “Whatever you are, you’re still a robot.”

  “I’m well versed in chromosome disorders that can blur gender boundaries,” Alina said. “I would alert on any fetus showing an XXX or XXY abnormality.”

  “Call me abnormal and you can sleep out in the snow tonight,” Coren said.

  “I don’t sleep, Person Coren.”

  Coren nudged a can off the stove toward Alina and handed her a fork. “Close your eyes and fake it.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better for me to keep an eye out for unfriendly people?”

  “Are you programmed for self-defense?”

  “I must protect the child in my womb.” Alina paused as new information popped up in her databank. “During my stasis, someone outfitted me with knowledge of twelve martial arts systems and other hand-to-hand combat maneuvers. I can also strip, repair, and fire pistols and automatic weapons. In addition, I can wire and disarm explosives—”

  Coren coughed around some of per stew. ‘You need all those skills to guard a little baby?”

  “I think the information was mistakenly uploaded during my stasis.”

  “Or maybe someone saw the Big Freeze coming and thought you’d need it to survive.”

  Alina finished her dinner. “If you are not taking me to Dan and Mark, you will need their access codes.”

  “Their what?”

  “To open my womb when Con Leche is ready. Only the parents have the authorization to access the child.”

  “What if the parents forget it?”

  “In the absence of a security code, I would need remote authorization from my owners.”

  “Huh,” Coren said. ‘You mean, your dead owners? From that complex that’s buried under ice, everything broken and dead?”

  “Yes, per.”

  “So what happens if there’s no code and no authorization? How will the baby get out?”

  “Dr. Ogilvy once said my womb was like a locked bank vault,” Alina said. “The only way to open it under other circumstances will be to destroy my control center. But don’t worry, per. The baby won’t be ready for approximately thirty-five more weeks. I’m sure we will reach Mark and Dan by then.”

  *

  After dinner was over, Coren said, “I’m going to go take a piss in the woods. You stay here, and don’t peek.”

  Alina waited by the sled and contemplated stealing more food. She calculated that her food intake had been three hundred and eighty calories. Not optimal. Her decision tree told her to use her reservoir and not alienate the human, but the reservoir would deplete quickly as Con Leche grew.

  When Coren returned per asked, “If someone tried to hurt the baby, could you kill them? Or do robots have some kind of rule about not killing humans?”

  “Protection of the fetus is my priority.”

  “So that’s yes on killing?”

  “I have never had to make that decision,” Alina said. “I believe I could.”

  Coren dug around in the sled and pulled out a sack of salted meat jerky for dessert. Per gave Alina some. One hundred twenty more calories. Coren asked, “What about deciding to flush it? Could you do that? You know, end it?”

  “I am prohibited,” Alina said instantly.

  “I kind of thought you’d say that. Okay, look, I’m going to bed. You stay out here. Keep yourself amused. Wake me up if you see anyone, or any kind of animal we could eat.” Alina saw no people or animals during the night. Instead she sorted through the new information that had been stored inside her. The self-defense knowledge was only part of a larger database about survival skills that included hunting, cooking and eating wild animals (difficult in this new climate, where many species had gone extinct); building winter shelters of snow and branches (but all the branches were coated with ice); and administering first aid to herself and to any injured humans.

  The next morning, after a breakfast of canned peas, more jerky, and salted fish, they set off again. As Coren led her through the frozen wilderness to their classified destination, Alina asked, “Are there many humans left alive?”

  “A lot, but I don’t know how many.”

  “How do they survive such arduous conditions?”

  “It ain’t easy.”

  ‘Yet you endured hardship, risked danger, and used precious supplies to find and retrieve me. Did Mark and Dan hire you?”

  ‘You remember what I told you about them?”

  Alina sorted through her memories. “1721 Peach Tree Lane, Cragford, Georgia.”

  “Oh, boy,” Coren said. “I think you’ve got a screw loose.”

  They spent the next few days trekking along old roads and highways. The stumps of old billboards protruded from the snow pack, along with the roofs of rest stops or fast food restaurants. Alina debated the possibility of burrowing through the snow to find frozen food supplies, but Coren’s digging equipment was limited. Occasionally Alina could see the frozen contours of cars beneath her feet in places where th
e wind had worn away the snow. Frozen drivers and passengers could be defrosted and cooked to provide nutrition for Con Leche, but she didn’t think Coren would agree to the idea.

  Each night Coren slept in the tent, swaddled in blankets while Alina kept watch. Alina didn’t think per sleep was very restful. She could hear per tossing and turning in the cold.

  “With greater caloric intake, I could keep you warm,” Alina commented on the fifth morning. “I can generate external heat.”

  “If you got more to eat, you mean,” Coren said, per breath frosting as per tugged the sled over a frozen obstacle.

  “Yes.”

  “I can’t make more food appear out of thin air, and I’m giving you as much as I can. What we’ve got has to last until we get to where we’re going.”

  Alina continued, “I’m also programmed for sexual activities. Those can raise your body temperature, if you please.”

  Coren stopped walking. “What did you just say?”

  “During my stasis, someone uploaded operational knowledge of several sexual activities. I don’t have most of the equipment, but I have two hands, a mouth, a waste port—”

  “Okay, stop!” Coren snapped, per face turning red. “I’m not going to start using you like some sex toy. That’s disgusting.”

  Alina tilted her head to mimic curiosity. “Humans have long used mechanical devices for sexual gratification, haven’t they? The technician Scott used me for sexual pleasure approximately nine times, according to my databank. Mr. Crowther kissed me. Mrs. Labonte would shower with me and bring herself to—”

  “Stop talking!” Coren said. “People shouldn’t be doing things with a pregnant robot.”

  “But it made them happy. Isn’t happiness a priority?”

  “No. Not with everything. It doesn’t mean people have the right to just do anything they want to you.”

  “Humans often used machines to make them happy,” Alina said. “Do you find me unattractive? I was told that I was beautiful.”

  Coren’s cheeks flushed even deeper. “Yes, you’re pretty. It’s not that.”

  A shout from somewhere down the road interrupted their conversation. Two figures in bulky gray parkas were coming their way. As they drew nearer, Alina saw that they were both six feet tall, wore cross-country skis, and had rifles slung on their backs. One raised his hand. “Hey there!”

  Coren said, “Let me handle them,” and put on a blank expression. Alina mimicked it.

  The strangers stopped several feet away. They were both bearded men, Caucasian, perhaps in their mid-thirties. Larger than Coren. Stronger, too. Their clothes were dirty, but in the past someone had patched the elbows of their coats. They smelled like people who had not had the luxury of a bath or shower in a long time. Coren smelled the same way.

  “I’m Gordon and this is Lewis,” said the one who had hailed them. He was slightly shorter than his friend, with darker hair, not smiling, but friendly enough. “You ladies passing through?”

  Alina wondered what they saw in Coren to address her as female. Lewis remained silent, but his gaze swept from Alina’s face to her boots and back up again in a way that remind her of Scott the technician.

  “Passing through to meet up with some family,” Coren said, per gaze frank and voice flat. “How’s the road?”

  Gordon replied, “Passable. But the barometer back in town’s dropping. Won’t be safe to be sleeping outdoors tonight, not with a storm on the way.”

  “We’re prepared for rough weather,” Coren said.

  “Sure you are. But we’ve got twenty men, thirty women, bunch of kids, some extra space to bed down,” Gordon replied. “Bunch of folk trying to get by. Trust me, no one’s after your virtue.”

  “I’m sure that’s true,” Coren said. “Thanks, anyway.”

  Lewis was still eyeing Alina. She considered the possibility that the town had food supplies that would benefit Con Leche, or that they might have communication equipment that would reach Dan and Mark. She knew that evaluating honesty was a gap in her programming; how humans judged deceit was a mystery to her.

  “Is your town far?” Alina asked.

  Coren’s shoulders tensed. Gordon turned his gaze toward Alina, eyebrows lifting a little. “About a mile. We don’t have much, but we share.”

  “Share or barter?” Alina asked. “Give freely, or take something in return?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Coren said firmly. “We’re fine on our own.”

  “Not unless you plan to turn into a popsicle,” Lewis said, his voice rougher than the other man’s. He stopped looking at Alina and instead stomped his boots in the snow. “Last storm killed a man and his woman heading south. We found their bodies in their tent, frozen together.”

  Coren shook per head. “We’ve got supplies. Thanks again for the offer.”

  Per tugged the sled back into motion and started off. Gordon caught Alina’s arm and said, frowning, “Don’t be foolish. You’ll die out here, just because your friend is stubborn.” He seemed sincere, but his presumptions were wrong.

  “I won’t die,” she said. “Please release my arm.”

  “Idiot women,” he muttered, and let her go.

  As she walked after Coren she listened for any sounds that the men were following. That was a lesson that Professor Sauter had impressed upon her. As the physically weaker sex, women had to always be prepared that a stranger could be a threat, and that even familiar men could suddenly turn violent. But no footsteps followed them, no hands grabbed out. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw that Gordon and Lewis had continued up the road.

  “Why didn’t you trust them?” Alina said when she caught up to Coren.

  Coren snorted. “Never trust anyone. Their ‘town’ might turn out to be nothing more than a shack, and we’d be dead or worse by sundown. They might keep you around, all pretty and indestructible, but me? Slit my throat, if I’m lucky.”

  By early afternoon, however, it was clear that the men had not lied about the weather. The temperature dropped fast as the promised storm rolled in. Coren stopped their hike early. They had just finished setting up the tent when the first fat flakes of snow started spitting down. Dinner was hurried, more tinned meat and hard biscuits, and when Coren crawled into the tent per said, “You better get in here with me. Don’t want the wind blowing you away.”

  Once inside, the only practical thing to do was for Alina to crawl into a nest of blankets with per. They both kept their coats and boots on, and Coren used a thermal blanket to make a protective peak over their faces. It was still daylight, though the light had dimmed with the steadily increasing snow. The temperature dropped rapidly, like invisible ice water flooding over them. Alina felt Coren shiver.

  “Are you okay?” Coren asked.

  “My womb is keeping Con Leche comfortably warm. How are you?”

  Coren’s gaze went beyond Alina’s shoulder to the wall of the tent. “You could have gone with those men. I couldn’t have stopped you. Maybe they did mean well, maybe you could have more food for the baby.”

  “I know. But you are taking me to Dan and Mark, and that is an important priority.”

  “I’m not—” Coren didn’t finish the sentence. Per shivered again. “It’s like ice in here.”

  Alina studied per thin eyebrows and pointed chin. In all the days they’d been hiking, Coren had not needed to shave per chin or lip line. Alina said, “They inferred you were female. You didn’t correct them.”

  “Doesn’t matter what I am,” Coren said.

  Clumps of snow began to weigh down the roof of the tent. Alina took it upon herself to periodically thump it free. She was careful to not nudge the blankets and let the below-freezing air into Coren’s cocoon. The wind started howling, a long ceaseless wail, and Coren broke open one of their remaining chemical packs. The heat didn’t last long. As full darkness came on, Alina calculated the outside temperature and Coren’s chances of survival given the resources they had. The odds were not in per favor.r />
  “You should know where we’re going,” Coren said, just when Alina thought per had fallen asleep. “In case we get separated or something.”

  “Separated how?” Alina asked.

  Coren ignored the question. “Follow the old I-80 into Pennsylvania to Scranton. From there, south to Schuylkill. My community’s there, living underground in an old coal mine. We still mine the coal, trade it for food down south where they still get some summer. The boss there, he’s the one I got you for. He talked about you, how he always wanted to meet you, but he figured you were dead in the Freeze and never would ask anyone to go north for you. I wanted to prove I could do it. That I could get you for him.” Alina didn’t like how Coren’s words were slurring. Slurring was a sign of hypothermia, and the bitter, bitter air wasn’t going to get warmer anytime soon. She contemplated several decision trees. More than one path led her to prioritize Coren’s survival. She said, “I believe I should consume some food and generate heat for you.”

  “Ain’t you curious?” Coren asked, per eyes closed. “Who wanted to meet you?”

  “When you’re warmer, I will be curious.”

  She crawled out from under the blankets to the supplies they’d dragged inside, switched on the lantern, and started eating the hard biscuits, salted jerky, cold stew, uncooked rice, and canned meat and vegetables. She ate as fast her as her throat could pass the food. Two thousand and seven hundred calories total. Her womb stayed steady at ninety-eight degrees Fahrenheit as she began to raise her shell temperature. Back in the blanket nest, she put her hand flat against Coren’s face. Coren moaned a little but didn’t wake fully. Alina took off her coat and blouse and put them on the pile of blankets.

  “I have to remove your clothes now,” Alina announced.

  Working carefully, she got Coren nearly naked and sidled close to per. Coren moved instinctively toward the warmth of Alina’s skin. Alina could feel all the details of per’s curves and weight. Coren’s breasts, soft and round, pressed against Alina’s chest. Coren’s penis, also soft, lay between them without a twitch. Alina didn’t doze off but she did channel more energy into heat than cognition, and was startled some time later when Coren said, “What the hell?” and pushed her away.