We got to the clinic as the first rays of the sun were coming across the ocean, filtering past the buildings and concrete supports. Together, Ezra and I huddled in the doorway waiting for Dr. Helmet to arrive. It was a scary hour or so, but eventually he came.
“My friend needs help,” I pleaded.
Dr. Helmet gave me a tight lipped glance as he looked down at Ezra. He seemed so small as the good doctor cradled him in his arms taking him inside. I watched helplessly as the doctor stitched up both the entrance and exit wounds. He gave Ezra a shot of something and shook his head.
“Drones have a physiology that is not dissimilar from humans, buy he will heal up more quickly. These antibiotics will help,” Dr. Helmet said pulling a badly beaten blanket over Ezra.
“Thanks for helping him. How do you know so much about Drones?”
“He’s got a lot of blood on him... most of it isn’t his. Am I going to regret helping him?”
“No, he was saving me from Collectors and got shot. He’s one of the good guys, really.”
“What did the Collectors want with you, young lady?”
“They injected me with this,” I replied producing the syringe.
Dr. Helmet took the syringe from me and used his handheld to scan it. He gazed intently at the readings, a look of confusion crossing his face. He took a sample of my blood (ouch!) and had me follow him back into his small laboratory.
“What was in the syringe?”
“My equipment is old, but I believe it to be a special catalyst designed to activate nano-technological devices and machines.”
“Nano-technowhatsits?”
“Very small machines. This catalyst should be totally harmless to humans, unless they had nano... um, those very small machines lying dormant inside them.”
I breathed a sigh of relief at first, until I remembered the odd side effects. I sat down in a rickety folding chair by the wall and tried to remember what happened more clearly. It was all a blur, literally.
“What did it do to me?” I asked, terrified of the answer.
“I’ve looked at your blood under the microscope. I must say, you are extremely interesting. Amazing even,” Dr. Helmet remarked as he polished his glasses.
“Thanks, but this is the part where you tell me what it did to me,” I said impatiently.
Dr. Helmet paused pulling a chair to sit in across from me. Clasping his hands in front of him, he took a deep breath, like he was about to tell me I had cancer.
“You don’t have the nano machines I spoke of residing in your body--”
“That’s a good thing!”
“The whole of your body is made of them. You’re completely artificial, at least relative to a regular person.”
“I’m a robot made of smaller robots?”
“Well, yes, after a fashion, but that description falls woefully short of describing how dizzyingly complex you are.”
“Oh, okay.”
Dr. Helmet suddenly conjured an expression of deep fatherly concern.
“I was under the impression you might be completely clueless about your condition. All things considered, you’re taking it extremely well. In truth you’re lucky I have older medical equipment that’s off the grid. Newer scanning technology has probably been coded to throw false information in the event a terrestrial intelligent agent comes in for a checkup,” Dr. Helmet remarked blinking his eyes in disbelief.
“Terrestrial what? Who did this to me? Why did they do it to me?” I muttered, trying to reason through what was happening.
“My dear, you don’t understand. This wasn’t something someone did to you. You were born, or created this way. Someone made and programmed you. I’m no expert, but you are likely one of the most ingenious intelligent agents ever created,” Dr. Helmet answered, almost giddy.
I didn’t have time for this. Standing up, I turned and headed for the door and almost bit my tongue in surprise. Ezra was standing in the doorway, rubbing his side.
“Ezra! You’re okay!” I said hugging him.
“I heal quickly.”
Dr. Helmet stood grabbing the blood sample and the syringe from the lap table. He beckoned for us to follow him, taking us into the basement. Ezra and I watched as he put both the blood sample and the syringe into the incinerator.
“You both won’t be safe here for long,” Dr. Helmet said walking to some boxes in the corner of the basement. “The Collectors likely have some inkling they hurt your drone friend there, and they’ll be searching the clinics.
“You have a back way out?” I asked.
“No, but I’ve a place we can lie low for a while.”
He moved a few of the boxes to the side revealing a metal grating leading down to the tunnels below. Unlocking several pad locks, he lifted the grating and began climbing down.
“Coming?” Dr. Helmet asked and disappeared down the access.
Ezra gave my arm a squeeze and turned me around to face him.
“We’ll find Silverstein, I promise.”
“Really?”
“I found you, didn’t I?” Ezra said pulling his goggles back down over his eyes.
“I suppose you did,” I said smiling at Ezra.
We climbed down into the passage and followed Dr. Helmet underground for several blocks. These weren’t the lower shafts, but the drainage tunnels designed to carry flood waters back out to the sea. Ezra crept along beside me looking about nervously.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“These tunnels have no trail markers.”
“Markers?”
“Signs that Drones have passed through here. These tunnels have been segregated from the underground grid,” Ezra said speaking loudly enough the doctor could hear.
“True,” Dr. Helmet remarked without slowing.
“You had someone hack the central AI to turn the cisterns and lids underground so this place would be cut off,” Ezra mused, giving me a brief look of concern.
“Well, not exactly,” Dr. Helmet said, stopping next to a moss covered wall. “That explanation works well enough for my purposes though,”
He wiped the moss aside revealing what looked like a pair of blast doors. Lifting the cover on a keypad, he deftly entered a code causing the doors to slide slowly open. Ezra didn’t budge.
“No offense, Doc, I’m grateful for you patching me up but--”
“What’s your name?” Dr. Helmet interrupted.
“Ezra One.”
“You’re wise to be distrustful, but I genuinely mean you no harm,” he remarked. “If anything, you’re the reason I’m down here, after a fashion.”
“I don’t follow. Explain yourself,” Ezra said pivoting around in front of me defensively.
“I’m a geneticist by trade. I lost my license to practice medicine in uptown after I absconded with key data. Various governmental agencies wanted to activate the whole of the Type One Drone population for their own uses,” Dr. Helmet began.
“You worked the MDC Project?” Ezra hissed, still suspicious.
“Heaven help me, yes.”
“Then you’ll tell me why we were created in the first place,” he said menacingly, his claws clicking neatly into place.
“That’s a story best told inside, where there is a heater, a marvelous contrivance which will provide us tea, and a toaster oven. You both look like a nap would do you some good, too,” Dr. Helmet said, gesturing toward the open blast doors.
We stepped inside and sat down in a narrow room. It had a single dilapidated recliner, and a battered vinyl couch. Dr. Helmet fired up a hot plate and put a kettle of water on. After we had tea, Ezra and I caught a couple hours of sleep.
I knew why Ezra was tired, he’d been shot and beaten halfway to a pulp the night before. Howev
er, I couldn’t understand why I was so tired, it hadn’t even been eight hours since I slept. It had to be whatever that brat injected me with.
We awoke to toast and more tea as Dr. Helmet sat in the recliner across from us and began to tell an amazing story.
“There was a war in space, just beyond the threshold of our own solar system. We were being invaded. At least, that’s what we were led to believe.”
“Invaded by what exactly? What is the MDC Project you and Ezra were going on about before?” I interrupted before sipping my tea.
“Information relative to the invasion was classified, my team was never briefed. What they knew for sure was that we needed shock troops, workers, doctors, and other professionals who could operate in space, aboard vessels, and in hostile environments... better than humans. The Metasapient, Drone, and Clone Project was supposed to be the answer.”
“The MDC Project was designed to create slaves to do what humans didn’t have the stomach to do themselves,” Ezra muttered angrily.
“Interesting perspective, but appropriate I guess considering the outcome. The factories and processes behind the MDC were never made legal or public. Once the perceived threat was over, the Central Global Government decided to usurp control of the facilities that created and trained Metasapient creatures for their own purposes.”
“What about the Drones?” I asked, looking over at Ezra.
“We designed them to survive, even if humanity did not. They were to be a last line of defense. They would be left behind in the event the invaders made their way to Earth, and wiped out humanity.”
“They justified creating us to fend off an invasion? What a bunch of crap,” Ezra whispered, taking his goggles off.
“Indeed?” Dr. Helmet said calmly.
I didn’t understand what he was suggesting at first. Ezra’s eyes turned into slits and I thought maybe he was really angry. Then the tears started to flow, he was so sad.
“I don’t understand,” I said trying to comfort Ezra.
“I agree, the invasion was likely a cover, and the real reasons for Drones being deployed are somewhat more sinister,” Doctor Helmet stated trying to be as delicate as possible. “It is possible the Central Global Government concocted the invasion as a way to sidestep laws regulating cloning and genetic manipulation to build a slave race.”
“Who would believe such a thing?” Ezra hissed.
I struggled with the concept, never having thought much beyond the small events of my own life. I lingered for a moment on those thoughts. I grew up downtown with no parents, living where I could, no one to guide me. Never even suspected I was a nano-thing-a-ma-jig.
“Please understand, I only know what I was told and had a very cursory role in the MDC Project. I know far more about the part of the project that gave birth to the Drones,” Dr. Helmet began slowly.
“Type One Drones, we were made to be killers, yes?” Ezra growled angrily.
“No, of course not.”
“I heard you talking upstairs, about how you might come to regret helping me. Something about most of the blood on me not being my own,” Ezra snapped, waving his claw dismissively.
“Understand that some of every sample of the Metasapient, Drone, and Clone Project went rogue. I couldn’t be sure you weren’t one of the rogues,” Dr. Helmet explained.
“I seem pretty good at destroying other people,” Ezra hissed remorsefully.
“True, but you’ve likely only killed to protect your tribe or your friends. Have you ever killed in cold blood, because you like it? Do you not feel remorse?”
“Humans rarely seem to draw such a distinction.”
“True. I believe there is a fine line between someone who is just a killer, and someone who is a protector. Ezra, I think you’re a protector. It is what we designed the Type One Drones to do, preserve the lives of the others.” Dr. Helmet put his hand on Ezra’s shoulder.
“I have met few humans half as noble as the least altruistic Drone,” Ezra muttered batting Dr. Helmet’s hand away.
“I wish I had something more to tell you. Most of the members of my team have passed away or vanished. I still have the data I took with me when I quit the project,” Dr. Helmet remarked sadly.
“No. I’ve heard enough. Let’s get out of here, Taylor,” Ezra said tugging on my arm.
“Thanks for the tea!” I said. I followed Ezra out through the blast doors.
Dr. Helmet stepped out into the tunnel behind us shutting the blast doors. He escorted us back out through the clinic once he was sure it was safe. He caught Ezra by the shoulder as we were leaving and gave him some extra bandages.
“Thanks,” Ezra said tucking them away.
“If you change your mind about that data, you know where to find me.”
Ezra and I made our way back downtown just as a black transport carrying a bunch of Collectors landed nearby. From hiding, we watched them question Dr. Helmet fruitlessly. Eventually they got back in their Spookymobile and took off, leaving the doctor to open the clinic for the day.
Ezra and I crouched inside a cardboard box behind a dumpster for the majority of the morning planning our next move. We had no idea where Silverstein had gone, and trying to travel in uptown during the day was a sure way to attract attention. We decided the best thing to do was spend the day following the Collectors and try to find out from where they were operating.
“What do you think really happened to Silverstein? How he came to be in that alley unconscious and without a memory,” I asked following Ezra through an alley.
“It is not what either of you suspect, that much I’m certain of,” Ezra replied.
“How do you know?”
“My nose knows. Silverstein, his murderous double, the mansion, his office at Uroboros Financial… none of it smells right when compared to one another,” Ezra remarked, after taking a moment to find the right words.
“I think I understand what you’re saying.”
We walked along the street beneath the tattered awning of the old glitz and nightclub row, trying to watch what few of the Collector’s transports we could. It seemed like they were taking off and landing near the waterfront, a place I was loathe to visit. It was full of establishments designed to cater to men who had been at sea for months, warehouses, and huge cranes used to offload ships.
All our observations from the ground kept pointing to somewhere in that area. It was a long walk, and this was a part of downtown Ezra and I were unfamiliar with. It was almost nightfall before we found what we were looking for.
The sign on the chain link fence around the property read “Alphadein Inc. No Trespassing.” Ezra pressed up against the fence, and we both gazed about to the dark interior of the lot. There were lots of those same black transports, wheeled trucks, and a large concrete industrial structure.
“Ezra, now that we’ve found where they hang out, what do we do?”
“Watch.”
That’s exactly what we did, all night. Thankfully the Collectors weren’t good at maintaining the property so there were plenty of bushes and trash heaps outside giving us places to hide. We watched as the transports would land, sometimes unloading what looked like small sacks of something heavy. Other times, they’d unload a person, gagged, bound, and blindfolded.
“Extortion, kidnapping, and they tried to murder me. I’m really beginning to dislike these guys,” Ezra whispered.
“What are we going to do about it?”
“I’d like to find out how they’re connected to Silverstein. More than that, I’d like to know if Silverstein is a clone of this Vance Uroboros character, or the original article.”
“Did you kill the young Vance Uroboros that injected me with that stuff?”
“I think so, but it all went down so fast.”
I toyed w
ith my hair nervously. It seemed like none of us were who we appeared to be. I hoped Silverstein wasn’t mixed up in all this so deep we couldn’t get him out.
“What about me? Dr. Helmet thinks I’m a robot,” I muttered still toying with my hair.
“We’ll get a second opinion. You don’t look or feel like any robot I’ve ever seen,” Ezra whispered as he smiled.
“Thanks, that means a lot coming from you,” I said hugging Ezra.
“It does?” he replied, eyes wide.
“You’re my friend. You came to my rescue when they tried to truss me up and bring me to this place we’ve been watching. Of course what you say means something,” I said slugging Ezra playfully.
“Oh.”
Chapter 9
November 4th, 2127 - 72 years previous to shutdown.
“I haven’t been back to Earth since I left the Factory. Do you think we’ll get to do anything fun while we’re there?” Athos One asked, loading .308 rifle rounds into a long clip.
The transport shook violently for a few moments making all the Drones insides grab their restraints tightly.
“We’ve been sitting at the rim just past Mars for three and ten, all I want is a candy bar, preferably something with peanuts and a piece of real fruit,” Ezra One said, checking his communications equipment.
“When I can get it, I’ve been listening to the BBC almost every night. There have been armed revolts in a dozen major cities. Even credit says we’re dropping into an urban theater,” Calvin One grumbled.
The indicator light on the wall above where Athos One was sitting turned from green to yellow and a countdown appeared. The Drones all looked up, each knowing they were only minutes from Earth now. They’d put down violent labor revolts on Mars among the prison populations, and knew how tricky urban warfare could be. None of them was looking forward to the prospect of having to do it again.
“Tell me again why we do this?” Athos One asked.
Uroboros Saga Book 1 Page 13