Granted, as hot as it was, she only needed clothes to protect from embarrassment. So far, everyone she’d met appeared to have made their own garments out of junk. Some kind of fur, plastic, power cables, computer cases, tires… Their utter lack of reaction to her absence of clothes bothered her the most. They hadn’t even pointed and laughed.
“People have blown themselves up back to being cavemen.” The irrational sorrow of no longer being able to play video games seemed like the worst thing in the world all of a sudden. She kicked a puff of silt into the air. “What’s wrong with me? There isn’t even toilet paper anymore and I miss video games?”
She refused to think that she’d spent more time with games than with her real parents. With the wind at her back, she followed the ghost of a city street. Twisted lampposts stuck up out of the ground here and there, barely taller than her. The city’s half buried… She glanced down where she stepped, wondering if cars and stuff lurked below her.
Thunder crawled across the sky. Bright emerald lightning snapped and faded far off in the distance where the dark clouds formed an inky curtain.
“What… the… hell?” She stared at the wall of darkness. “Lightning isn’t supposed to be green.” Clouds aren’t supposed to go all the way to the ground either.
The unending breeze made the heat tolerable, perhaps even comfortable. It’s not as hot as I remember running from school to the bus. Guess it’s cooler because of the clouds. She walked onward for a while longer. Eventually, she spotted the corner of a red stone building that remained upright, three walls but no roof. Kiera approached the ruin, carefully navigating a pile of concrete scraps, wincing whenever she stepped on a rock. Much to her disappointment, the area inside the walls held only more of the same: rubble. She scanned back and forth, sighing at the uselessness of it all, and swallowed spit.
“I need to find water.”
Sunlight flashed from something shiny when she started to climb back down. She stared at the debris around that spot and made out the shape of a head among the rocks: a shiny, silvery head with dark hexagonal eyes.
“A robot?”
Kiera pulled herself up over the hill, stumble-sliding down the short incline to the ground inside the walls. She approached the gleam, having to circle around the bulk of concrete chunks to where a man-sized figure made of metal and plastic lay buried to the waist under the collapsed remains of the missing fourth wall. It didn’t move or react in any way to her approach. She crouched behind its head, poking and prodding at anything that looked like a button or switch. A small blue square depressed with a faint click, causing a panel at the back of its head to flip open.
She recognized micro circuit breakers; two of eight had tripped due to a short. Also, a white plastic connector had popped loose from its socket, probably from the force of the wall striking it in the face. Kiera stood again to peer over the collapse, studying the way the rubble trapped the machine. Steel rebar had punctured the chest, and one of the legs had been crushed like a soda can under a car tire. Even if it turned out to be a bad guy, she doubted it would be any threat, even to a kid.
Yay for robotics class. I guess I did learn something.
“I wonder…” She squatted again and plugged the wire back into its socket before pushing the two blown breaker switches back to the left. “Does it still have any power?”
A few seconds after the last switch clicked, the robot beeped. Eyes divided into hundreds of tiny hexagons by thin gold wires lit up blue, a yellow glow at the center simulating a pupil.
“System error. Mobility functions impaired.” The robot twitched, trying to move, but lacked the strength to shift the rubble. “Operator query?”
“Hello,” said Kiera.
It leaned its head back to look at her, upside down. “Greetings, human child. Which tribe do you belong to?”
“I’m not from a tribe.”
Its eyes simulated blinking by darkening from the edges inward. “Your attire suggests that you are from one of the tribes in the area. Though the chromatic signature of your hair is uncommon. Also, your skin possesses an unusual pallor. Are you sick?”
“No. I’m a ginger.”
It blinked again. “You are not a root.”
Kiera sighed. “Is everyone in this place stupid?”
“The average education level among the tribespeople outside the Citadel is quite low, so your assessment is close to accurate. Though there is a difference between lack of intelligence and lack of education.”
“Do you know where I can find something to wear?”
“Villages or the Citadel would be the most likely source for apparel. Where are your parents?”
She frowned at the dirt. “Dead, probably.”
“I suggest you locate a village. You are a child and in need of a caretaker. The Citadel does not allow access to members of the tribes without a work permit.”
Kiera decided the robot didn’t look like a threat, and stepped around in front of where it lay, sitting on a flattish piece of warm concrete that left her about eye-level with it. The machine lifted its head with a whirr. Instead of a mouth, it had a rectangular display screen, scratched and dusty. A straight bright green line gave off a neutral mood. Its shoulders bore a Citadel Corporation logo.
“What’s the Citadel? Do you mean the corporation?”
The robot shook its head. “The business entity known as Citadel Corporation has not existed as such for a long time. There is only the Citadel left. It stands at the center of this refuge zone and keeps the contamination down to levels compatible with human life. The Citadel is a self-contained arcology where society continues to attempt survival. Venturing more than one hundred miles away in any direction would be harmful to you.”
She dug her toes into the silt and bit her lip. A hundred miles? “Umm. What year is it now?”
“The current date is Thursday, February 11th, 2094.”
Kiera gasped. “No! That’s impossible. I… I… it’s only 2033.”
“My systems are accurate. I am certain the date is correct.”
She buried her face in her hands, shaking her head. “It can’t be. I shouldn’t still be alive or I’d be an old woman.”
“You have injection marks.” The robot raised its one exposed arm to point at her thigh.
“Yeah.” She tilted her arm to show off the red dots there as well. “And one in the back of my neck. The needles were huge.”
The robot’s green line mouth bent upward to a smile. “Did you emerge from a chamber full of liquid?”
“Yeah… that’s why I don’t have any clothes. This old guy thought I was just born.”
The robot chuckled. “Ahh, primitives can be amusing. The injections were stimulant shots to restore your muscles after a long period of inactivity. It is likely that you were preserved in cryonic suspension.”
“So it’s really 2094 now? I was like frozen? How was I awake…?” She explained her friends, parents, house in the suburbs, and all.
“I calculate that you were frozen for the majority of the time you spent in the pod. The virtual reality you experienced would have likely occupied only a few weeks or months, though it could have felt like years at the speed of electronic communication with your brain.”
She wiped sweat off her forehead, fidgeting, struggling to believe her ears. “The game told me I was almost out of time. I saw weird stuff happening.”
“The life support system would have been close to running out of power after so long. As you may have determined, there is no infrastructure left. Because you are still alive, it must have had backup systems, but they do not last forever.”
“Why did it wait so long to open? What happened to everyone else in there?” She started to tear up over her parents, but swallowed her grief. Crying could wait until she didn’t need to worry about staying alive―or losing water.
“Insufficient data.”
“Are you from the Citadel? Wait, that’s a stupid question. You’re a robot. Of cou
rse you’d be from there if it’s the only technology left.”
“That is correct. My function is law enforcement.”
She scratched at her shin, chasing a trickle of sweat. “Why are you out here so far?”
“I was in pursuit of four individuals who abducted several villagers for the purpose of enslaving them. We encountered them nearby. One of the men had an improvised explosive device, which he employed against me.”
“You’re a cop?” She bounced, her trust for the robot growing. “Some guys tried to kidnap me!” She rushed an explanation of the three men and pointed out the red marks on her wrists.
“I do not think it would be the same individuals. My system logs went offline in 2087. I have been here since, and likely will remain indefinitely. If I were not trapped, I would be obligated to escort an unaccompanied child to civilization.”
“Can you call for help? Cops have radios.”
The thin green line bent into a frown. “I am sorry, human child. My frame has suffered extensive damage.”
“Where is the Citadel? How do I get there?”
“The refuge zone experiences a constant cyclonic wind effect. It rotates around the Citadel’s position counterclockwise. To find the center, you would only need to put the wind to your left side and walk forward. If the wind is at your right, you are traveling away from it.”
She jumped to her feet. “Awesome. So all I need to do is get to the Citadel.”
“They will not let you in, child. Tribal individuals require work permits to gain entry.”
Kiera stomped. “I’m not tribal! I know I have nothing on, but if they talk to me, they’ll understand I’m not.”
“Perhaps. You do seem intelligent. You may be able to convince them.”
“Wait… work permits?” She raised an eyebrow. “That sounds a lot like slaves.”
“Oh no. Slavery is highly illegal in the Citadel. Technology is closely guarded. Outsiders who wish to enter the Citadel to work must be screened. They are issued identity documentation. Administrator Sokolov has outlawed slavery with a death penalty. Alas, it does still occur out among the uncivilized. Primarily in the northeast area of the refuge among the New Dominion.”
“Those guys who tried to kidnap me said something about that… New Dominion.”
“A tribe. Violent and warlike.” The robot shook his head. “You should avoid them. They would surely harm you. However, you are relatively close to the Citadel, so the odds of your encountering them are low.”
“I need to find water and clothes… and food. Can you help me?” She pulled her hair away from her eyes, summoning her most endearing smile.
“My present condition renders that unlikely. You lack the strength to remove the rubble trapping me here. Your best chance for survival would be to go to a nearby village. There is one north of here, close enough that you should be able to walk there before you die of dehydration.”
Kiera stared at it. “Wow… uhh thanks. That’s not scary at all.”
“Turn so the wind is meeting you at an angle.” It traced a circle in the dirt, made a triangle at the center, and another dot close to the midway point between the edge and the triangle. “You are approximately here.” It poked another dot into the dirt closer to the center but not in a straight line toward the middle. “The village is here.”
She squatted by the map, pointing at the triangle. “That’s the Citadel?”
“Correct.”
With the wind rotating around the Citadel counterclockwise, if she faced diagonally into it, that would put her on course for the village. Straight into the wind would roam around the circle without getting closer to the middle. If the wind hit her from the left, she’d walk toward the center and miss the village.
“Okay. I got it. Thank you. Sorry I can’t get you out of there.”
“It is pointless to apologize for not doing something you are incapable of doing. It would take multiple adults to pull me free. I do not worry for my existence. I am curious though, how a tribal girl reactivated me.”
Kiera growled. “Stop calling me tribal. I’m not. I went to school.” Even if it was fake.
“School? Out here?” It tilted its head. “Power cell critical.”
Its glowing eyes and mouth went dark as the head sagged to one side.
She sighed up at the clouds. “Figures. I’m alone again.”
8
Dust and Ash
For a while after the robot went dark, Kiera paced around inside the shelter of the three remaining walls. Part of her begged the universe that this wasteland came out of a nightmare and she’d wake up safe in her bed soon. She hugged herself, shaking from the despair of wanting her parents back. Tears threatened to overtake her, but she kept fighting them off.
“I can’t stay here…” She frowned at the two protein bars. No water, nothing to wear, no weapons to defend herself with, little food. “I’m not going to last long alone.”
Kiera bit her lip while thinking about the village. The kidnappers said that people struggled to have babies, and someone might sell their entire house for a kid. That sounded like someone would be willing to help her… if she could handle the embarrassment of streaking around.
Well, I can hide or I can starve to death.
She took a deep breath and climbed a debris pile at the edge of the ruined building, careful not to scratch herself on jutting metal rods. At the top, she paused long enough to peer around at the endless desert in hopes of seeing any sign of civilization or another person who could help her, but every direction offered only more dust. Kiera stared down at herself and brushed dirt from her stomach, shaking her head in total disbelief that her present situation could possibly be anything other than a horrible dream. Living in a world where she needed a breathing mask to go outside would be easier to believe as real.
Maybe I’m still in virtual reality. When I noticed the dog glitching out and sliding instead of walking, it fixed itself. She concentrated on how wrong it was not to have any clothes, hoping the computer would pick up the error and correct it, but nothing happened.
When no amount of wishing helped, she made her way down the other side of the rubble, stepping with care over chunks of concrete to a flat area of soft silt. A few turns in place to feel the wind against her skin oriented her in the direction the robot told her to go. Alas, the ruins objected to her path, forcing her to detour around ruined buildings and divert along old streets for a while. Kiera gazed around in awed horror at what remained of buildings, traffic signs, and unidentifiable junk. Everything had an odd molten quality, as if a giant had carved a model city out of chocolate and left it in the sun too long. She touched one of the walls to confirm it as actual concrete, but jerked her hand back not wanting to get any bad stuff on her. Something that could dissolve rock would likely hurt her.
At least the powdery grey stuff under her feet proved nice to walk on. She followed as straight a line as possible while going around buildings or mounds of rubble in order to keep traveling in the general direction she wanted. Best of all, she found no sign of the bandits.
After a few continuous hours of walking, a building emerged from the whirling dust up ahead that looked in better shape than all the others she’d seen. Barriers of sandbags blocked off the front, and the façade had numerous gouges from bullets. Otherwise, the tall building still had the majority of its walls, though none of the windows remained.
Inspired with hope, she ran to it, puffs of dust blooming whenever her feet smacked the silt. The constant wind soon swept the line of haze she left in her wake into oblivion. Kiera jumped a thick aluminum pipe, perhaps a former traffic light, and rushed to a halt at the door. She hesitated, looking back over her shoulder at her footprints fading fast enough to see. About a minute later, no one could tell a person had walked there.
No wonder those guys gave up trying to find me.
The lobby held a thick, humid atmosphere, heavy with the stink of mold. Dust covered a floor of marble tiles in s
waths, like a tiny scale model of desert dunes. She kept to the clear spots to avoid leaving footprints, heading around the reception desk to a pair of double glass doors with the name ‘Meade, Wilson, and Dunn, Attorneys at Law’ on it. Kiera grabbed the handles and tugged, but they refused to open. She growled, shaking them harder, more as a statement of protest at their being locked than a serious attempt to get in.
Kiera didn’t bother trying the elevators and headed for the stairs. On the second story, she found a bunch of windblown rooms, exposed to the elements for so long nothing of any use remained. Footprints here and there suggested others had been and gone, likely collecting salvage long before her. A moldy piece of paper had a printout of an email with phone numbers to call for those inquiring about the status of family members in the armed forces. Red lettering at the top proclaimed, “No information is available for service members who have deserted with units not loyal to the United States.”
She dropped it and went up to the third story.
Upon finding a bathroom, she crept in and decided to relieve herself. A robot calling her tribal didn’t make her tribal. She’d try to be civilized as much as possible. As soon as she sat, the floor crunched, the toilet sinking an inch or two. She screamed, grabbing the sides of the stall. With great care, she pulled her weight up off the seat, hanging by her grip on the empty toilet paper holder on one side, a handicapped-assistance railing on the other. The toilet shifted again, fell through the floor, and smashed to pieces on the ground level, leaving her suspended over a hole, her toes gripping the edge of the break.
Kiera dangled there, whimpering in shock for a second before her brain engaged. She leaned toward the toilet paper holder before shoving herself to the right, grabbing the railing in both hands and hanging. The partitions between stalls shook from her landing, threatening to rattle apart. A nasal wail of fear leaked out of her as she climbed hand over hand to the left. When she reached the end of the bar, she stretched one leg out and got her left foot up on solid floor. She grasped the edge of the stall, and, clinging to the cool metal, pulled herself to safety. A few more bits of tile fell down the hole, landing with sharp cracks.
Citadel: The Concordant Sequence Page 10