by Tripp Ellis
When things looked clear, Max darted across the sidewalk and hid behind a car again. Sebastian was close behind.
Max peered her head over the trunk and looked through the rear window of the car at the sentry on the corner. She waited for him to look the other way, then sprinted across the street.
Sebastian hesitated. He started, then ducked back behind the car, fearing he wouldn't make it before the sentry turned his head.
Max huddled in between two parked cars across the street, snarling at Sebastian.
He shrugged sheepishly. There was nothing he could do. Circumstances beyond his control. Shit happens.
Max motioned for him to stay put. She watched the sentry, and waved Sebastian across the moment it was clear. He huffed and puffed as he ran across the street, his shoes slapping against the concrete. The guns in his backpack rattling against each other. He might as well have announced his presence over a loudspeaker. He caught the immediate attention of the sentry.
The robot spun around and brought his assault rifle into the firing position and took aim at Sebastian.
33
The robot was about to blast at Sebastian, and he wasn't going to miss. Robots almost never did.
Max popped up and took aim at the sentry. She fired over the top of the car, blasting two quick shots—one eviscerated the robot’s plasma rifle, splintering the weapon, spraying molten shards of metal. The shrapnel alone would have killed a human. But it didn't phase the robot. The second shot Max fired impacted the android’s chest plate. The blast knocked him back a few steps, but it didn't do much damage. It left a blackened, smoldering pit in the composite plating. But the projectile didn't penetrate the armor.
Max grimaced. These were going to be tough bastards to kill.
The robot instantly notified nearby androids. Soon, the area would be swarming with them.
Max grabbed Sebastian's arm and pulled him along as she barreled down the street, ducking into the alleyway. The two ran as fast as they could, but Max knew they were going to be met with more robots by the time they reached the end of the narrow passageway.
Max spied a sewer cover at the midpoint of the alley. She crouched down and pried the heavy iron lid open. It was the type of thing that normally took two people and a crowbar to budge. Max moved it with relative ease. She slid it aside, grinding against the concrete. “Down! Now!” she hissed.
“But—“
Max's fierce look shut him up, fast.
Sebastian climbed down into the boggy pit without any more hesitation.
Max could hear him splashing to the muck below.
“Oh, good Lord,” Sebastian groaned, his voice echoing up from the darkness. He didn't have the tone of a man who was pleased with his surroundings.
Max climbed down after him and pulled the sewer cover back into position. She climbed down the rungs that were embedded in the concrete and dropped into the sludge.
It was like descending into a stinky armpit. The stench tickled the back of your throat. It smelled like dirty, soggy underwear, fresh off someone who had just run a marathon.
“What the fuck is that smell?” Sebastian asked with a crinkled face.
“Do you really want to know?”
“I think it's better if I don’t.”
Max led the way, sloshing through the slimy goo. The drain was oval-shaped, and the brickwork had been in place for centuries. It was covered with algae. Creepy crawly things slithered in and out of cracks. There was no telling what was lurking underneath the surface of the water.
Sebastian used the flashlight on his mobile to illuminate the tunnel. He was still picking up Felix's tracking signal.
Max could hear the clanking of the robotic feet on the street above. They didn't check the sewers. Perhaps it wasn't in their programming. They looked for humans in the streets and in various structures. But they hadn't considered the sewers as a method of travel. And that was just fine by Max.
Max and Sebastian snaked through the passageways and made their way to York Street. Max climbed the rungs of an access point up to the sewer cover. It was wedged in tight with years of corrosion. Max mustered her strength and managed to free it from its grimy seal. She lifted the cover slightly and peered across the roadway, scanning the area.
She saw another sentry standing on the corner by a café. A large maroon awning covered wrought iron tables and chairs on the sidewalk. Max surveyed the street. There were several luxury high-rises on one side, and on the other a host of shops. There was a small convenience store, a clothing boutique, and a repair shop—Mike’s Classic Motors.
The sharp, rippling sound of plasma bolts rocketing through the air echoed off the buildings. A few blocks away, ragtag groups of citizens were attempting to fight back. They were, no doubt, met with swift and decisive force.
The commotion drew the attention of the sentry on the corner. When he was looking the other way, Max gently slid the manhole cover aside, trying not to make too much noise. She pulled herself out of the pit and ran across the street, dashing into the lobby of 3384 York Street—the Dakota Gardens building.
Sebastian followed closely behind.
The lobby was filled with curious and terrified onlookers. It was hard to say if they were residents of the building, or citizens just taking refuge in the lobby to avoid being out on the street after curfew.
“Are you sure he's here?" Max asked Sebastian.
He showed her the display screen of his phone. The tracking data clearly placed Felix in the building. But there were over a thousand units in the luxury high-rise.
Sebastian zoomed in and expanded the view. The app provided a 3D image of the Dakota Gardens. The transponder on Felix's collar was accurate within 3 meters. As far as Sebastian could tell, Felix was sitting comfortably in apartment 6701.
“Somebody must have taken him in,” Max said.
She found the elevator and pressed the call button. Within a few moments, the door slid open and the two stepped inside.
“Thank God,” Sebastian sighed. “No more stairs. I'm done with stairs.”
Within seconds, they had stepped into the hallway on the 67th floor and were knocking on the door of 6701.
“Who is it?" a frail voice responded through the door.
“You wouldn't happen to have found a blue cat, would you?”
“What’s his name?” the voice asked, testing Max.
“Felix.”
An old woman cracked the door slightly. Her skin was draped over thin bones, creased and spotted by age. She wore and Exo-Walker™ that braced her legs and allowed her to walk unassisted. “I knew he was too pretty to be abandoned. Poor thing was all alone when those damn machines started causing a ruckus. I thought it best to bring him inside."
“Thank you,” Max said.
The woman was surrounded by several cats that had followed her to the doorway. The old woman's nose curled up at an unpleasant odor—Max and Sebastian brought with them the stench from the sewer, albeit somewhat muted. The woman put on a smile and pretended not to notice. “Please, come inside.” She did her best to keep the herd of cats from sneaking out.
Max caught a fluffy white cat as it tried to escape.
“That's pixie. She's a troublemaker. Runs out every chance she gets.”
Sebastian pulled the door shut as he entered.
There were at least 40 cats scattered about the living room. Some were perched on couches, others on the coffee table. Dozens more roamed across the floor. Max's eyes spotted Felix instantly, and the kitty came running to her. “There you are,” Max said, baby talking the furry thing. “You scared me to death.”
Sebastian sneezed and his eyes grew puffy and red. His nose instantly began to run.
“Bless you,” the woman said.
Max took the collar from around Felix’s neck. “Would you mind looking after him for a little while longer?"
“I don’t see why not,” the woman said. "He seems to be fitting in just fine with the others. They
keep me company ever since Harold passed. Sometimes I think he died just to get away from the cats,” she said dryly. “He was allergic too. Poor fellow.”
Max smiled at her. She kissed Felix, then set him down on the floor. “You stay out of trouble, you hear? Behave until I get back.”
Felix looked at her like she was crazy.
Max thanked the woman again, and headed back down to the lobby with Sebastian. Felix was in good hands. And far safer with her than he would be on the streets with Max.
There was still a group of terrified onlookers in the lobby, watching the chaotic events unfold in the streets. Their faces pressed against the large panes of glass, leaving smudges and stains in the normally pristine lobby.
"How do you plan on getting to the uplink?" Sebastian asked. “Every robot in the city will be trying to stop us.”
Max shrugged. She thought of Winston, wondering if he was affected.
34
"Does this mean we’re going back into the sewers?" Sebastian asked. He cringed at the mere thought of it.
“That's probably the safest way to travel. But it will take forever to get across town that way."
“Well, we’re not just going to be able to catch a ride over to the Robo-Dynamics tower. Any vehicle with an AI component may be affected.”
Max caught sight of a repair shop across the street that specialized in classic vehicles. Mike’s Classic Motors. “That’s why we need to find a vehicle without AI.”
She scanned the avenue and waited until it was clear. The crowd looked on in shock as Max pushed through the lobby doors and raced across the street. She ducked into the alley beside Mike's Motors.
Sebastian stayed put.
Max climbed on top of a dumpster and crawled through an open transom window. She shimmied through the narrow space and dropped down into the repair shop. The place was lined with tools, lifts, and immaculate classic cars and motorcycles. Max's eye was drawn to a 1963 split window Corvette coupe. At first glance, it was hard to say if it was an original or a vintage reissue. There were a number of specialty shops that would fabricate classic cars on demand. An original would be extremely rare indeed. It would have had to survive the Earth apocalypse, then be transported across the galaxy to Sov Islaa and reconditioned. Earth was still off-limits, but that didn't keep salvage crews from sneaking in and looting what remained.
Max contemplated taking the Corvette for a joyride, but a Drago Furia changed her mind. It was the last combustion engine sport bike ever made. Eduardo Ferro had made the bike famous winning 6 Moto Galaxy titles on one. The price was commensurate with the bike's storied reputation.
There was a tag hanging from the handlebars—KB137. Max moved to the office. Keys were hanging from a pegboard. She found the one with the matching tag and darted back to the motorcycle. She didn't know what was wrong with it, or if it would even start. But if it didn’t crank up, she had more vehicles to choose from.
She straddled the crotch rocket and inserted the key in the ignition. She turned it, and the engine roared to life. Max twisted the throttle, and the engine wound up. Inside the garage, the sound was ear piercing. The bike rumbled in a way that modern bikes didn’t. It felt like a powerful beast. Noxious fumes spit from the exhaust pipe. Max choked and coughed. It was way more stifling than any ion exhaust from a modern thruster.
Max took a minute to familiarize herself with the controls. The Drago was heavier and clunkier than a modern bike. No stabilizers, old-fashioned analog gauges, and a gasoline tank. The fuel gage read half-empty. But it was more than enough to get across town. Modern cars ran on fuel cells that could propel a vehicle hundreds of thousands of miles before needing a charge. The idea of needing to fill up the gas tank every several hundred miles seemed like something out of the Stone Age—and it was.
Max put the bike into gear and eased out the clutch. The bike lurched forward, and Max almost lost control. She eased up on the throttle and steadied the bike, walking it along. Her feet could barely reach the ground. The rubber tires squealed against the slick floor as she turned.
She pulled up to the bay door that opened into the alley. She lowered the kickstand and climbed off the bike. At the wall, she activated a button that opened the garage door. Max climbed back on the bike as the metal door rolled into the ceiling. She twisted the throttle again and roared into the alley. The engine thundered off the walls, echoing for blocks. This thing was loud and going to draw a lot of attention. Max was having second thoughts about her plan of action.
She unholstered her pistol and gripped it in her left hand. Without an autopilot, it was going to be difficult to drive and shoot at the same time—and Max knew she was going to be doing a lot of shooting.
She raced onto York Street, leaning the bike into a hard turn. The sentry at the corner spotted her right away and took aim. He rattled off several plasma bolts that streaked toward Max. She weaved down the roadway, avoiding the blistering projectiles. She blasted several shots back at him, pelting the robot in the chest plate.
The thing staggered back, tilting away. The angle revealed a slight vulnerability. Max blasted two quick shots at the robot's midsection, impacting the gap underneath its sternum. That seemed to do the trick. It vaporized his power cell, and caused the robot to explode. Blistering shards of shrapnel spewed in all directions. Bits of gears, servos, struts, and other composite materials clattered to the ground. The robot collapsed and clanked to the pavement in a twisted heap.
Max pulled in front of the Dakota, and Sebastian ran out to greet her. He had a hesitant look on his face.
“Get on!”
“You can’t be serious?”
“Get on, or I’m leaving you behind.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a bad thing.” He swung his leg over the seat and wrapped his arms around Max's midsection.
She twisted the throttle and let out the clutch. The front wheel lifted off the ground as the bike launched down the avenue.
Sebastian’s face was milky white. His eyes bulged out of their sockets. His skin was cold and clammy. His stomach was in knots. Every nerve felt electrified. “This thing doesn't have any safety features, you know."
“If we don't get into an accident, we don't need any safety features."
Sebastian didn’t find the statement reassuring.
Buildings blurred by as Max raced through the city. Plasma bolts crisscrossed her path as sentries opened fire as she blazed past them.
Max gripped the throttle with one hand and fired at the robots with the other. "You know, it would be helpful if you started shooting at these damn things.”
“I can't hold on and shoot at the same time,” Sebastian screeched.
“Then don’t hold on.”
35
Sebastian looked terrified. He had one arm wrapped around Max, and the other arm firing over her right shoulder. It was debatable whether or not his contribution made any difference. He couldn't hit the broadside of a barn. If any of the shots did manage to connect, it was luck more than skill.
Max snaked through the city, banking corners like a Grand Prix racer, bringing her knee within millimeters of the pavement as she leaned the bike into the turns.
Sebastian's heart was in his throat.
It was pure madness, and Max was beginning to realize that. She took a random path through the city and never had to deal with more than a few robots at a time. Occasionally, she'd run into a squad or platoon, which would force her to change her route.
She raced with speed and precision. Despite being a relic of the past, the sport bike was living up to its reputation. It wasn't a modern hover bike, but it had its charms. Max could see why collectors spent the kind of money that they did on these things. But truth be told, if she had the extra money, she’d use it for something else.
A plasma bolt streaked across the roadway and slammed into the hub of the front wheel. It vaporized it completely. What remained of the front forks dug into the concrete, showering golden sparks.
The bike flipped, sending Max and Sebastian over the handlebars, heading for a terrible landing. Max slammed the pavement and slid down the roadway. Each time she tumbled it took chunks out of her elbows, knuckles, and knees. She wasn't wearing leathers, but the advanced fabric of her clothes kept her from having a horrid case of road rash. Though it still wasn't pleasant.
The bike cartwheeled in the street behind them. Max hoped it wouldn't come crashing down on top of either one of them.
She careened across the concrete toward a parked car. Max slammed into it, partially wedging underneath the driver side door. Her velocity had slowed to the point where the impact wasn't fatal, but it sure didn't feel good.
Max pulled herself from underneath the car. Chunks of her fabric were missing along with parts of her flesh. Crimson blood seeped from abrasions. Her worried eyes glanced around, looking for Sebastian. She found his twisted body lying in the street about 50 feet away.
The Drago lay in the middle-of-the-road with the rear tire still spinning. Bits of body panels had shattered and lay strewn across the pavement along with fragments of the red brake lights and amber turn signals. There was a trail of gasoline and oil, and shattered shards of glass from the windscreen.
Another plasma bolt whizzed past Max’s head and slammed into the car behind her. The robot that had shot out the front wheel was marching towards Max, ready to finish the job. But Max no longer had a weapon. She had lost it during the accident. Her eyes frantically flicked around, hoping to locate it before she was incinerated.
She sprang to her feet and ran for cover as the robot closed in, spraying a continual stream of plasma projectiles in her direction. Max was stiff and sore. Each step was agonizing. She didn't think she had broken any bones, but sometimes the rush of adrenaline can mask injuries.