Toy Wars

by Thomas Gondolfi

  I felt certain any attack we could mount against the wall of tanks would fail. We would have to attack at something akin to fifteen to one against. Instead, I walked farther into the tunnel and sat on one track. I worried about being sealed in to slowly run out of power, my memories fading into nothing as my sump turned to black tar.

  I guess those thoughts were selfish. There were over a hundred other units here and I indulged in self-pity. I looked about at the composition of my troops. I could see injured units leaking fluids on the red stone floor of the cave. With only two Nurse Nan repair units making it to the cave, many would have to wait to receive corrective attention. In the 250-centimeter tunnel, the Nans were forced to stoop over to tend to the battle damage.

  It seems strange to be defeated after so many victories, I thought as I watched the blonde Nurse Nan deactivate a Tommy Tank whose damaged processor board finally shorted with a bright, but final, arc. It tugged at my heart—or what I used for one.

  Would that I could save the knowledge of that defeat for future use, but it appeared as if the cost of my mistake tallied to all our lives including mine. Not much chance to pass on the information that came at such a high cost. How much more we learn from our mistakes than our successes, I thought pitifully.

  My overtaxed brain began to wander. Humans decreed what we should look like. There has to be some master plan but I don’t understand it. Nurse Nans look like Human females. I look like a bear—whatever that is. My planted memories state, “Merriam Webster says, ‘bear (n) any of family Ursidae of large heavy mammals of America or Eurasia that have long shaggy hair, rudimentary tails and plantigrade feet, and feed largely on fruit and insects as well as on flesh.’” There is a picture that shows something that looks like me about as much as I resemble an elephant. The picture shows something brown, with no fingers and a decidedly four-legged walking action.

  The forms of my allies, my family, my brothers and sisters were not similar to each other yet we often killed those who looked identical to ourselves. I had more than once shot a teddy that, save for fur color, looked identical to me. How often were Tommy Tanks called upon to kill units identical in shape to their own? It made no sense. Funny what one’s processor could dream up when death is at hand. Yes, I used the Human word for my own imminent demise. The word “death” held a more definite finality to it, rather than the emotionless “terminal deactivation.”

  I looked at my furry hands and wondered what made me, a 2-meter purple Teddy Bear, any different from the teddy bears that fought in the field. Was it because I fought on the side of my Factory? That didn’t seem to be correct, either. Those animals only fought for survival. Were we better because the Humans created us? And where were the vaunted Humans? Why didn’t they hear my Factory or me when we cried for help?

  As I sat at the bottom of that hole, I had nothing but defeat. I heard sporadic blasts of fire from the entrance. Those non sequitur thoughts, wild and free as a flyer in the sky, had kept me occupied for nearly three hours.

  I knew the enemy desired a clean victory. They probed the mouth of our stone coffin from time to time. It cost them units as we blasted anything coming into view but at the same time their numbers allowed the sacrifice. It was terribly wasteful. All they had to do was wait us out. My best guess said that we would start losing units within ten hours. If there were any justice in this universe, I should be one of the first. I could count on being one of the last to succumb to power loss because of the teddy scouting sub-specialty, but my reprieve only would buy me another twelve hours or so.

  I absently watched as a Nurse Nan deactivated the processor of one of the Tommy Tank units to make repairs on the main command/control transceiver, also known as the CCT.

  The CCT was vital in combat. It passed orders from Six. It identified a comrade from an animal, especially in combat where it might be difficult or even impossible to distinguish the differences between friend and foe. Sometimes I wondered if the Humans wanted to make our job difficult, but the CCT improved our recognition.

  A fauna Tommy Tank, if placed next to one of ours, was indistinguishable. A query to the CCT directed at any unit and you knew immediately whether you were about to shoot a friend or a foe. We each had three backup CCTs in case one or even two were damaged.

  Nurse Nan 224 reconfigured the tiny blue CCT of one of our dead to replace the damaged unit on the functioning unit. Inspiration struck me. It literally was as brilliant as a muzzle flash in the dead of night.

  What if the animals weren’t animals at all, but rather units of another Factory? It explained so much that wasn’t explainable and the ramifications were enormous.

  Scavenging of animal parts, arms, legs, fluid pumps, fluid distribution, relays, and more, had become standard practice—thanks to my discovery. However, the only things that could not be transplanted from animals were the main processors and CCTs. The disasters on the two times Nurse Nans made the attempt echoed through the nets like a virus. In each case, the transplant recipients became violent and attacked without warning. The first time it cost twenty good units to destroy the recipient. The second cost twelve. It became a proscribed procedure, not allowed without direct intervention of Six. All of that would make sense if, in fact, there was more than one Factory.

  With my thermal vision, I watched more closely as the Nurse Nans put the new backup CCT in the Tommy Tank unit. I slowly closed the white fingers of my replaced hand down into my palm to form a fist. I squeezed the hand tightly. It served me as the original one manufactured by Six. It couldn’t be coincidence. My theory had to be true. There was no other explanation for the similarities in their bodies and minds. The only way to test it was to make it happen, and as we would die anyway, I risked nothing.

  Once more I crept to the opening of the tunnel and scanned about. In amongst the gray tank bodies and the shrapnel raining about me I caught the glimpse of one bright orange teddy.

  “Squad 1 teddies,” I said as I crawled back from the verge, “outside of the tunnel is an orange teddy corpse. Bring it inside.” The four bears moved up close to the tunnel’s entrance to be heralded by more mortar fire.

  “Level three objection based on danger,” the leader said back.

  “Understood. Confirm mission priority one. Repeat, priority one.”

  “Acknowledged.” The four rushed out as one. A mortar shell landed to the left of the foursome, throwing one backward. His smoldering body caught the barely rounded edge of the tunnel opening. I heard the crack of bones. One of the remaining three used an M16 to lever a broken tank off the orange body. The other two each grabbed an arm and dragged. Another mortar round landed close enough to the one holding up the tank that I couldn’t see a separation. When the explosion and dust cleared, only two smoldering legs remained.

  The other two teddies ran. One got knocked over just short of the tunnel but got up and resumed his task. The orange body slid to a stop at his feet. The two teddies raced back, grabbing their comrade just at the entrance. To my surprise, as they returned the first unit hit still maintained sump function although the body beneath it didn’t look like anything but jelly. As long as a unit still retains processor and sump function, Nurse Nans can return any unit back to nominal. My Nans started to do just that.

  “Priority interrupt,” I called to the Nans.

  “Acknowledged.”

  “Replace tertiary CCT with the one from this body.”

  “Negative,” the Nan said immediately. “Proscribed procedure.”

  “Override.”

  “Negative! Proscribed procedure.” If I couldn’t get them to do it as a whole, I would need to break it down.

  “Remove the tertiary CCT from this body.”

  “Acknowledged.” The pair of Nans worked quickly to enlarge a small hole in the chest using special knives built into their hands. One reached in blindly and plucked out a single blue cube with clear hair on one side. The whole assembly couldn’t have been bigger than my tiniest claw. “Task comp
lete. Returning to primary priority queue.”

  I took the small device. “Negative. Hold.” I turned around, obscuring the device from the Nans before turning back around. “Replace my tertiary CCT with this spare.”

  “Negative. Proscribed procedure.” The Nans’ intelligence is known to be exceptional. I needed to be trickier. I needed an act of legerdemain.

  I dropped the CCT on the floor and stepped forcefully on a pebble directly beside it. “Return to your priority queue.”

  Both Nans returned to putting back together the poor teddy unit I caused to be crippled for this desperate gamble.

  “All combat units activate and focus on tunnel entrance.” With everyone’s attention elsewhere I casually knelt down and retrieved the undamaged CCT next to the badly scuffed pebble.

  “Priority tasking,” I ordered again. “Require tertiary CCT replacement.”

  “Affirmative.”

  “New parts. Use this CCT to replace my tertiary CCT.”

  “Affirmative. Please lie down on your belly and deactivate tertiary CCT and command pathways three, six, and fourteen through twenty-four.”

  I sprawled out flat with my rotund belly between the train rails. This emergency repair I didn’t need mechanically or electrically, but it just might save my life. Before I let the Nans do a single thing, I used my SAN to force commands into their command pathways: One, replace my third backup CCT with spare part; two, complete this transplant before taking any additional instruction; three, no other priority may supersede these orders until the procedure is completed.

  As these Nurse Nans had no direct connection to Six my orders would take precedence over any other order or situation they could encounter, even their own imminent demise. This whole episode reminded me of Six’s experimentation on me. I dreaded getting my CCT replaced almost as much as when Six stuck that needle down in my skull. Would I be whole when I awoke, would I just be dead, or would I go mad and kill all my own troopers?

  As I saw Nurse Nan reach up to turn off my cognitive functions, I began to doubt. Would it work or wouldn’t it? All this and I couldn’t go through with it. No, I couldn’t do it. I tried to scream for her to stop, but it was too late. I immediately began to dream.

  Unlike the shadowy world of being asleep these dreams brought a vivid and disturbing vision of a world unlike my own. Green and brown trees abounded, as did a carpet of verdant plant life. Furry animals ran away from my approach. I’d never seen any of them myself but from the encyclopedic knowledge Six programmed me with I recognized raccoons, deer, and several red squirrels. I looked up to see a sky in all the wrong shades of blue and gray with puffy white flyers, not fighting the wind, but being driven before it like a unit which has fallen into a river.

  Wind rustled the grotesquely wrong emerald-colored leaves. Not only that, but the heat. I felt like my hydraulic fluid would boil into steam, but somehow I kept moving. There, in a flimsy canvas construction, lay four Humans, two adults and two not yet grown. I realized with horror that I was only 30 centimeters high. The not-yet-grown female Human ran toward me, reaching to pick me up. At only a meter tall she looked huge!

  “How cute, Mommy. Can we keep him?” She wrapped me in her arms in a vise-like grip, crushing my external armor and severing several of my hydraulic lines.

  “Teddy Bear cubs shouldn’t be handled, Candice. Put it down,” said the full grown male.

  “But Daaaaaady!” she whined and flung me to the ground. My left leg broke on impact.

  “You heard your father, Candy. Now come away. You never know where the mother Teddy Bear is.” A four-legged brute, which I recognized from my preprogrammed memories as a sheepdog, lumbered toward me.

  “Spot!” called the younger male. “No, leave it alone.” I crawled at my top speed away, but the animal bore down at me even faster, jaws open. I felt the teeth sever my hydraulic pump and rupture my brain case. I was dying...

  “Reactivate, Teddy 1499. Reactivate, Teddy 1499.” I opened my eyes to look out at the subtle shades of red in the darkened cavern, a cavern with no more garish blues or greens. “The transfer was a success.” I mentally felt all over my body. Yes, I was still whole. No giant Humans nor their shaggy pets abused me. Belatedly, I mentally felt for the tertiary CCT bank. It was there in standby. It was as much as I could have hoped for. I intended to test my theory exactly once before throwing caution to the wind.

  I stood up and ran a basic physical, mechanical, and electronic test. All systems showed nominal, including CCT number three. I moved back as far into the tunnel as I dared. Even with light-enhancing vision, the darkness overwhelmed everything. I couldn’t see anything beyond a dull red circle back the way I came. Through my CCT I easily “experienced” where my troops defended the entrance by simply pinging their CCTs. Despite all this I could not see them in any way. It was now or never.

  I transferred all command pathways through CCT number three. The tunnel instantly filled with enemies. It was all I could do to keep from drawing my side-arm and firing in an autonomic response, an almost instinctual urge. My weapon remained holstered. My troops didn’t exercise the same restraint.

  A pair of machine guns cut loose above my head before I could reactivate my own primary CCT. The fire immediately ceased and my crew went back to guarding the entrance of the tunnel.

  My theory proved to be true, thus far. If I was correct, I could now switch CCTs and walk right out the door and never be shot at by the enemy. That would save me, but the other 106 units would be left without control. I would be leaving them to die.

  Was it right? Was it cowardly? I couldn’t make up my mind at the time. Nothing I could think of would save them. I would think for a time, but I knew that in the long run it came down to only two choices—die with my own, or try and survive to avenge their deaths.

  I picked up an abandoned railroad spike from the floor and began carving unit designations on the wall by slamming it repeatedly into barely yielding stone. Over a seven-hour period I avoided the decision I must face by creating a memorial to us all. The first three unit designations were in letters five times as high as the rest: Elly 5998, Jeffrey 177, and Jeffrey 178. The remaining 107 names listed the units that still lived in this deathtrap. At the end, I considered adding my name to the list of honored dead, but as I’d already decided, I couldn’t insult the others’ memories by putting my own name there. At least there would be something to remember the sacrifice that these units made to their Factory. I knew they would feel no pain. With those two thoughts, I gained a tiny measure of peace.

  It was time. I walked back to the guard perimeter at the mouth of this soon to be mausoleum. My voltage ramped up the closer I got to actually committing myself. If what I suspected was true, then I was doing something far more dangerous than hanging on the back of a monster. Soon I’d be bearding the lion in his own den.

  “All units prepare to shut down cognitive processes for a period of five minutes.” I heard the echo of my order down the chain of command. Several units lay down on the ground. “Execute.”

  The units wore no telltales of compliance. Barring a direct order from Six, my command overrode all other priorities. Now that I stood at the moment of truth my voltage crept up in fear again. Nothing would change the outcome. Six’s armies wouldn’t ride over the mountains and save us.

  I forced my voltage back down to nominal. At the same time I noticed the overpressure in my hydraulic fluid. How dare Six put me in this position! My righteous indignation poured off me like lava out of a volcano. I saved its dome so many times I couldn’t count them all, and now I had to do this.

  I took a few moments of no processing and forced down the fluid pressure. The nominal state of my being made me feel better. I hoped it wasn’t a false sense of security. I turned off my vision circuits, changed my command pathways through CCT number three and walked out the tunnel mouth.

  I strode blindly about forty meters before stopping. Nothing blasted me and nothing shot me. I opened my
eyes to find several dozen units milling around, all battle oriented toward the train tunnel. My new CCT showed them all to be allies.

  The train bore, through the interpretation of my new CCT, glowed red with danger. Even though I appeared from nowhere, my new allies neither attacked nor acknowledged my presence in any way.

  It had worked! My voltages dropped in elation that I had pulled it off. Just as fast as I rejoiced, my fluid pressure dropped because looking at the red glow around the train tracks saddened me. Intellectually, I knew that my hundred plus comrades’ fate had been sealed the moment they entered that artificial cave. Was I a monster for abandoning them anyway?

  I turned my back on my fellows both literally and figuratively. Their lives were over. I had to move on. Even as I mourned for my brethren, I was overjoyed. Think of what information and power I possessed. Here I was the supreme thief infiltrating a den of thieves. I was no longer Six’s soldier. Between two fighting factions, I neither belonged as part of one or the other. The thought stopped and sobered me. I didn’t belong to Six. I didn’t belong to this other group.

  As I stood there among literally thousands of units, which just moments before would have stood in line to take my life fluids from me, I realized I was on my own, completely. I could, if the mood struck me, do anything I wished. Independent or not, Six created me and as such I still felt loyalty to it.

  With the CCT from an animal, I would be ignored by all the combat units of this yet-to-be-discovered, possibly mythical, other Factory. But to what end?

  A 28-centimeter, blonde-haired doll, in a blue petticoat dress, walked within touching distance of me. I shuddered. I knew that solid plastic explosive formed the doll’s body. I had seen the dolls explode within a group of Six’s units. Six’s units were identical. I catalogued several of the types of units I could see: Teddy Bears, Tommy Tanks, Nurse Nans, Della Dollies, Ellie Elephants, and even some Jeffery Giraffes. Identical units, interchangeable parts, and alternate CCTs; this said only one thing to me—another Factory out there built these units.