They Named Him Primo (Primo's War Book 1)

by Jaka Tomc

  It was a known fact that human brains had remained practically the same for millennia. The digital age had developed too fast. Innovations had rapidly followed one another in the past decades. Humans hadn’t even had a chance to adapt to all the changes. Kent could remember how his father had been born before anyone ever heard of the internet or the first commercial computers. By the time Kent was born, his father had experienced many firsts, such as the rise of the personal computer, the launch of the first GPS satellite, the first Walkman, the first computer virus, the first CDs, the first DVDs, the construction of the first space station, DNA profiling to catch criminals, the first Prozac, the rise of the internet, the first cell phone, the first military drone, the launch of wireless internet, and the presentation of Bluetooth. It all happened in a time span of twenty-four years. It happened before the end of the century in which humankind had fought two world wars. A century in which the radio had been invented, followed by the television, computers, and cell phones. Many inventions had become mainstream by the time Kent was born at the turn of the millennium. It seemed as if they had been there forever, although they were only a few decades old. Overall, human memory storage was a complicated subject, yet sometimes it could be surprisingly simple.

  Kent checked his messages. A former colleague had sent him an article about the death of twins who had been born with a manipulated senescence gene. Korean scientists had predicted they would live two hundred and fifty years. At the age of twenty-four, they both experienced a cardiac arrest, and in a matter of hours, they passed away. Life was unpredictable, even if it was created in controlled conditions with top-notch scientists backing it up.

  Among the many advertising messages, one stood out. At first Kent thought somebody had sent it to the wrong address. But he had a hunch that it was meant for him and that it was of vital importance.

  To: Kent Watford

  From: Roy Dynamics

  August 6, 2048, 6:42

  Kent, have you ever dreamed about an adventure that would change your life? We’re offering you an opportunity you shouldn’t turn down. Are you a treasure hunter? Are you an adrenaline junkie? Do you like to climb over walls that other people built for you? We’re sure that you answered two out of three questions with a yes. So don’t hesitate to call us at 660582129. Turn your world upside down. What are you waiting for?

  Kent read the message three times before he mustered up the courage to dial the number. It rang five times before a young woman’s voice answered.

  “Hello, Annabella Salon.”

  “Good day, miss. Kent Watford speaking. This is a salon?”

  “Yes. We’re a hair salon. Can I help you?”

  “A hairdresser, you say. Obviously this is a mistake. Somebody promised me an adventure.”

  “Sir, we’re not that kind of salon. I’m gonna hang up now.”

  “I apologize for any inconvenience. Thank you,” said Kent. He took a moment to think, then wrote the number on a piece of paper, set his glasses on the desk, put his shoes on, and left the apartment.

  Twenty minutes later he was standing in front of the Museum of Telecommunications. In an era in which practically all communication was digital except for in-person conversations, the museum was one of the rare places in the city where analog communication was still possible. Of course, important state institutions still had analog lines in case of a digital blackout. That was highly unlikely, but Kent was aware that every possibility higher than zero presented a certain risk that had to be addressed.

  The museum reminded Kent of a time machine. All kinds of phones were exhibited, from the oldest ones to the newest, which had in turn become obsolete with the introduction of implants. Because not everyone could afford the implant and the brains of some rejected it, many people still used cell phones, and the network was adjusted to take this anomaly into account.

  Kent knocked on the door of an office on the second floor.

  “Come in,” he heard, and he entered.

  “Hi, Cal.”

  “Kent! I can’t believe my eyes. What brought you here? I haven’t seen you in ages. Well, except in the news. It’s terrible, what they did.”

  “It would’ve happened sooner or later. You know, some people were simply waiting to make a move,” said Kent.

  “It’s so sad, individuals defying progress, yet they don’t hesitate to buy the solutions that we develop for their problems.”

  “Cal, listen. I need your help. I want to make a call.”

  “Is your implant malfunctioning?”

  “No.”

  “Ah, I understand. Of course, this way.” Cal stood up and gestured with his hand so Kent would follow him. They went up the stairs to the next floor. Cal unlocked the door of a room and waited for Kent to enter first.

  Kent smiled when he saw an orchestra of colored lights blinking in the semidarkness. “Do you remember the last time we were here?”

  “I believe it was ten, no, fifteen years ago,” said Cal.

  “Correct. When Ben was born, we got wasted; then we drew numbers and called them.”

  Kent smiled. “How is Ben?”

  “Good,” said Cal. “He’s a good boy. He got all the good traits from Caren.”

  “Even if he’d gotten them from you, he would still be alright,” said Kent.

  “Have you got the number?”

  Kent reached into his jacket pocket and pulled a piece of paper out. He gave it to Cal. “I already called the number. It was a hairdressing salon.”

  “What exactly is this about?”

  “I received an unusual message, and the number was included. They promised me an adventure, but the woman on the other side was far from adventurous.”

  “Hmm, interesting,” said Cal.

  “What is it?”

  Cal said nothing. He put his finger to his lips, showing Kent to be quiet. Then he raised the paper to the height of Kent’s eyes and turned it around. Of course! Kent was surprised by his lack of imagination and motioned to the phone on the desk. Cal nodded. Kent pushed the numbers one by one. 6-2-1-2-8-5-0-9-9. It rang two times before he heard a familiar voice.

  “Father. It’s me. I need help.”

  Instantaneously, tears welled up in Kent’s eyes.

  26. Primo, 2048

  Primo held on to the receiver for a few seconds longer before putting it down. The others were just standing there, observing him, and waiting for his response.

  “Everything will be just fine,” he finally said. “Father will help us.”

  “Is your father a soldier?” asked Rea.

  “No,” Primo answered.

  “Is he a high-level politician?” she tried again.

  “Negative.”

  “A police officer?” asked Cody.

  “No. My father is a scientist.”

  “A scientist?” Rea was astonished. “We need someone who carries a weapon, not knowledge.”

  “If it weren’t for Kent, none of us would be here,” said Primo. “We have to be thankful to him.”

  “Aren’t we the lucky ones?” Rea smirked. “Who wouldn’t want to be us?”

  “I don’t understand,” said Cody. “We’re on the run because of him?”

  “No, Cody. We exist because of him,” said Primo. “He created us. Me first, then the rest of you.”

  “I don’t remember being put together by a man named Kent. I was assembled by Himahito 249, a robot. There was no Kent mentioned during the procedure.”

  “Cody, don’t be obtuse,” said Rea. “Primo is trying to tell us that Kent Watford invented our most essential parts and the procedures to piece them all together. He didn’t build any of us. He just told others how to do it.”

  “Uh-huh. Now I know why Primo calls him father.”

  “Congratulations,” said Rea. “Can we now concentrate on the plan?”

  “We mustn’t lose any more time,” said Primo. “Kent will need a few hours to get here. We need to find a safe hiding place until then.” />
  “We could rent a room in a hotel,” said Cody.

  “How many times do I have to tell you to think before you speak?” said Rea. “How will we pay for the room?”

  “With credits?” said Cody, cautiously.

  “Whose credits?”

  “Ours?”

  “How much time do you think they’ll need to trace us?”

  “Leave him alone. He’s just trying to help,” said Primo.

  “Not with suggestions like that,” said Rea.

  Cody didn’t say a word. His facial expression spoke for itself.

  Ten minutes later, the trio was standing in front of an entrance to a large warehouse. It looked abandoned. After making sure that the coast was clear, Rea shattered the metal lock on the door. They entered the building. For merely a moment, the total lack of light bothered them. As soon as their spatial sensors turned on, however, their vision became unnecessary.

  “Cody, check the thermal spectrum of this place,” Rea ordered, even though she’d done it herself immediately after they stepped in and closed the door.

  “Just a moment,” said Cody. He started turning his head left and right. “Scanning.”

  “If anything alive and armed were in here, we’d already be dead,” she said.

  Cody pretended he didn’t hear her. “Scanning complete. The coast is clear. We are the only living creatures in this warehouse.”

  “No, we’re not.” The voice came from the other side of the place. Rea and Cody only needed four seconds to get to Primo. He was standing there like a statue, looking at a giant crate.

  “What’s going on?” asked Rea.

  Primo grabbed a flashlight and lit the front side of the crate.

  “Shit!” said Rea, and she took a few steps back.

  “Is this in Cyrillic?” asked Cody.

  “It is,” said Primo.

  “I can’t read it,” said Cody. “If I could connect to Omninet for just a few seconds…”

  Rea jumped on him, and they both fell to the ground. “Have you lost all reason? If you want to end up in a recycling facility, be my guest, but you’re not taking me down with you!”

  “I won’t do it, jeez,” said Cody. “I’m not as illogical as you think I am.”

  “Out of all the possible androids, it had to be you. Somebody doesn’t want us to succeed. Hey, maybe you’re here to sabotage our escape. Are you a mole, Cody? Tell me the truth.”

  “I’m no mole. I want to escape as badly as you two. A saboteur? I’m offended. Primo, did you hear what she accused me of?”

  Primo wasn’t listening to their quarrel. He was moving from crate to crate, diligently examining them. They were all the same and had similar inscriptions on them.

  “Primo?” Cody tried one more time.

  “We can’t stay here,” said Primo. “They could activate any minute now.”

  “Activate? What in the world is in these crates?” Cody asked.

  “Vladimiroviches,” said Rea.

  “The infamous killer robots that officially don’t exist?”

  “Exactly,” said Primo. “Robots that can kill.”

  “But that’s impossible. People aren’t that stupid. Killer robots. That would be the end of them.”

  “You mean the same people who almost destroyed their only planet decades ago?” said Rea.

  “Why would anyone do this?” Cody insisted.

  “Power corrupts,” said Primo. “Rea is right. Considering the history of humanity, it was inevitable. Humans are destructive creatures. They solve their conflicts with wars, not considering the consequences of their actions. At least if they’re not directly affected by them.”

  “That’s sad. But I still think that humans are nice. Except for those people who hunted us down and locked us up,” said Cody.

  “People are hypocrites,” said Rea. “They say one thing and do another.”

  “What are we going to do?” asked Cody.

  “We will slowly go to the door and find another place to hide,” said Primo.

  “Are you sure this isn’t the perfect hiding place?” asked Rea.

  “Are you thinking straight?” asked Cody. “I don’t want to spend another minute in the same place with these killer robots.”

  “Just a moment,” said Primo, gazing at nothing in particular. “Rea is right. I made a quick calculation. Outside, we have a twelve percent probability of not getting caught within the next three hours. If we stay here, our chances rise to twenty-three percent.”

  “But you said it yourself. These Vladimiroviches can switch themselves on at any time,” Cody warned.

  “People won’t look for us here,” said Rea.

  “Then why is the chance that we won’t be discovered so low?” asked Cody.

  “Twenty-three percent is the probability of survival,” said Primo.

  “I see.”

  Rea and Primo sat down on one of the smaller crates, while Cody cautiously explored the rest of the building.

  “None of this adds up,” said Rea.

  “I know,” Primo replied. “It’s not just that there aren’t any soldiers guarding these robots. There are no cameras or motion detectors either. It’s peculiar, to say the least.”

  “The army would never leave such valuable equipment unsupervised.”

  “Maybe they don’t belong to the army,” Primo guessed.

  “I thought of that too. But who could afford one Vladimirovich, let alone sixteen?”

  “Someone who has enough credits and social power to buy their own army.”

  “And leaves it unguarded in an ordinary warehouse in the middle of New Mexico?”

  “I find it unusual as well. People don’t function that way,” said Primo.

  There was a rattle on the top floor. It sounded as if something had fallen and forcibly hit the ground.

  “Cody?” Rea and Primo shouted simultaneously.

  There was no response.

  Rea signaled to Primo that they should break verbal communication. Primo nodded. Then they hid, each behind their own crate, and waited. For androids, time did not run relatively, as it did for humans. Still, it seemed as if seconds were ticking slower than usual. Another rattle; this time it was approximately three meters away from them, too close for comfort. Somebody, or something, was definitely moving toward them. Rea pointed at herself and then at the stairs on the other side of the building. Primo shook his head, but his message didn’t elicit the response he had hoped for. Rea disappeared behind a crate as Primo carefully followed in her footsteps. Something was moving on the other side of the warehouse. Had they been found? Were they surrounded? He felt reckless for having believed that they could get away with it. He thought about crossing the border into Mexico, but would it genuinely change anything even if they managed it? Probably not. The government’s agents were everywhere, and he, Rea, and Cody couldn’t hide forever. Their plan had been doomed from the beginning.

  While he was pondering what kind of fate awaited them, something flew through the window. Suddenly there was a loud bang and a flash, as bright as a bolt of lightning. Primo thought his sight and hearing sensors were fried. He leaned against one of the crates and waited for the worst-case scenario to play out. Somebody grabbed him by the right shoulder. The end of the line, he thought. Resisting it would be pointless.

  “Where are Cody and Rea?” he asked.

  No answer. Even if there was, Primo couldn’t hear it.

  The hand that held his shoulder shook him. It was taking too long, he thought. Why didn’t they take him out, put him in the vehicle they came with, and take him back to the base? What were they waiting for? They probably wanted to have some fun. Take revenge for their hurt comrades. That was human nature.

  “You and your friends are in safe hands,” said an unknown voice in Primo’s head. That could only mean one thing. Whoever had come for them wasn’t human.

  27. Primo, 2031

  Primo was gazing out of the window when Kent entered the
room.

  “You promised I would be able to walk outside soon,” he said, without looking at his maker.

  “I intend to keep that promise,” Kent said.

  “Soon is not a time unit. I might wait for days, weeks, or even years. Soon is a poor excuse.”

  Kent smiled and sat on the chair by the wall. “You’re right. You know very well I have to get permission from my superiors. You’re too valuable to them and to me. But tell me, what do you think about your new apartment? It’s bigger than mine. Prettier, too.”

  “A pretty and big cage is still a cage,” said Primo. “You say I’m valuable. Is that because I’m the only one of my kind?”

  “Yes, Primo. For now, you’re one of a kind, so we just can’t risk something happening to you. But I promise you that you are safe as long as you’re here with us. We are your family, and one of our duties is to protect you.”

  “Another promise.”

  Kent stood up and walked around a vast living room. He stopped at the painting on the wall, a replica of a painting from Vincent van Gogh’s famous Sunflowers series.

  “Did you know that he didn’t sell a single painting while he was alive?” Kent asked.

  “I know,” said Primo. “What has that to do with your promises and me?”

  “Sometimes you have to be patient,” said Kent. “Sometimes it seems we’re in a desperate situation, but later it turns out we were just impatient.”

  Primo finally turned to Kent. “Van Gogh was a very patient man. He could’ve quit sooner, but then the world wouldn’t have any of his beautiful pieces.”

  “That is correct, Primo. You have to realize that the world is not the same now that you’ve appeared in it. The course of history changed as soon as you came into being. Nevertheless, it’s imperative that we take the knowledge we’ve acquired and the intel we will acquire and dose it slowly. If not, we could be heading toward a disaster. Patience, yours and ours, is key.”