by Ryan DeBruyn
Shakespeare prostrated himself and motioned for the Knights to do the same. “I have brought you a few of our brethren who stumbled upon our birthplace. They do not fit the description of the hollow ones, Lord Empire.”
“Do you, lesser ones, have the intelligence to answer questions?” asked Empire.
Rocky tried his best to stay discreet on Tao’s back, even as the Knight bowed. Tao shifted beneath him slightly, seeming uncomfortable or nervous while kneeling at the behemoth’s boot.
“We can understand your words, interpret them, and respond according to our desire. Why do you call us lesser ones?” Epsilon asked from his respectful bow.
Rocky Analyzed the boot of the Empire State golem, while the conversation lulled.
Empire State Golem
Leader
Epic-Skyscraper
Level 95
Health Points 78,000 / 78,000
It was even stronger than Bathilda and dwarfed the large Dragon by several times. The idea of even attempting to destroy a creature this imposing was incomprehensible.
“Perhaps you have not seen many of our kind? You are but a single step above the hollow ones. Even I am minuscule when compared to the Interstate golems.” Empire knelt, and finally, his head came into view. Rocky couldn’t see anything in the deep shadows of the plate visor. Empire placed his fingers pinched together near the ground. The fingers stretched apart until they were as tall as Epsilon. Then the gap continued to grow larger than the Knights. “You are small compared to me, like I am small compared to them. Unfortunately, Liberty has failed to bring them around to our cause. One day, we may have to deal with them like Chrysler and I dealt with Park.” He pointed to a massive golem head that sat in the rubble pile.
The blood drained from Rocky’s face. The head was as big or bigger than one of Empire’s Sabatons. It wore a helm of some sort, adorned by a circle plume. He whispered into Tao’s ear, “That is one of the tallest buildings in New York. It was probably one of the largest in the world.”
Rocky was nothing more than an ant to a creature of that size. He was torn. He sensed it was difficult for his Knights to stare at the decapitated head. But he was relieved that the creature wasn’t out there with a magnifying glass. Probably a bad analogy, but how many children stepped on ants, feeling superior due to their size advantage.
“Hasn’t Gaia ordered us to protect her Champions? You have enslaved them,” said Epsilon.
A booming laugh echoed from Empire, and it lasted far too long. Many of the humans towing along rubble fell to their hands and knees at the sound. A few whips cracked from the slave masters and scored the flesh of the fallen humans.
He growled, but Tao shushed him with a hiss.
“We are not killing her ‘champions.’ In fact, we are protecting them from the wildlife of the planet. Who is to say that we are not a superior form of life? Gaia may come to one day realize it herself.” Empire grew agitated the longer he spoke.
Rocky whispered to Tao, “Go with plan B.”
Tao stood and said, “We would like to join you, Great One. Will you have us?”
Empire turned to Shakespeare. “Find them some cattle to herd.” He turned back to Tao and Epsilon. “Prove your loyalty, and in time, I may find a use for you. Betray the three at your peril.” Empire sat on his throne of golem corpses.
Shakespeare motioned for the Knights to follow him. Once they were a block away, he ordered, “You will leave your slave with one of the other groups. I will split you up and have you work near experienced hands for the time being. You can leave the flesh sack with Flatiron.” Shakespeare walked over to a particularly vicious looking Taskmaster golem.
Flatiron was an imposing enough name, but his rank of a high level Master class proved it. Flatiron cracked his knuckles. “I will take good care of your pet, don’t worry.” He sounded anything but sincere.
Rocky climbed down from Tao and joined the line of other humans, pulling a boulder toward the rubble pile.
He didn’t see anyone he knew. Working like this would probably have him passing other groups. Maybe he would see his mother and sister. He didn’t know how to feel about that. Either his family was being worked to the bone, maybe even whipped, or they were somewhere else, possibly lost to him forever.
But he could sense that they were here. Somewhere. Once he found them, it would be a simple matter of escaping. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Okay, he would need to work on that last part.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The group under Flatiron joined two other groups of slaves at sunset. The humans formed a line, and each person received a bowl of soup. The soup smelled mostly of grass, with the faint aroma of red meat. Rocky poked at a few chunks of meat and wild vegetables floating in his soup. As soon as each individual received their dish, they sat down to greedily ingest its contents. No one spoke. No one even met Rocky's eyes.
He made a quick search of the other groups that sat with his. His family wasn't amongst them. He glanced over to the three golems off to the side, chatting animatedly. It seemed like this was the common practice, as everyone around him ate and then claimed an area on the well-packed earth.
He turned to his neighbor. “Are we supposed to go to bed?” Rocky whispered and the nervous-looking man shushed him.
Flatiron barked out, “No conversations, blood bags.” A barbed whip snapped out, lashing a human over thirty feet from Rocky. His neighbor gave him an accusatory stare. He looked over at the writhing woman. She was in agony, maybe even dying. No one moved to help. He made a motion to stand and his neighbor threw himself onto Rocky's seated legs.
One of the other golems shouted, “Everyone only gets one serving. No fighting for sleeping spots.” The golem threw a small pebble, at least it would be considered small for an eight-story building. The head-sized rock impacted Rocky's raised arm, and his radius followed by his ulna collapsed under the projectile.
He fell to the ground and bit his lip to not cry out from pain and anger. His neighbor straightened his broken arm and shook his head at Rocky as he whimpered. His distress went unheard by the three golems. Once straightened, Rocky used Dark Mend discreetly, numbing the area. His neighbor shifted away from Rocky as he saw the Skill manifest. Rocky added a Dark Mend to the woman, writhing on the ground.
These people were utterly cowed. They didn't even attempt to speak at night out of fear. Witnessing the brutality first-hand was a wake-up call. How many times had his family received similar treatment? How many more times would they receive it before he found them?
He entered his Meditative state as the bone fragments shifted back into place under the direction of his Dark Mend skill. Even with Meditation disconnecting from his emotions, a pulse of anger surrounded him. His family was out there, and they may not have the ability to heal themselves from this sort of callous treatment.
He could attempt to sneak around at night under the cover of Stealth and Dark Cloak. With both skills active, he wasn't likely to be caught or run out of Ether during the attempt. But if he attempted it, and Flatiron noticed, he wouldn't be able to come back.
The daily work was difficult, but with his high stats, it wasn't terrible. He had analyzed those around him and discovered many mid-level Apprentice classes. To him, that meant they all had increased strength when compared to the average human pre-apocalypse. Their subservience wasn't because of the hard labor. The constant threat of casual violence, like the instances he had just witnessed, ensured the group's complete adherence to the rules.
He looked over, and the woman was still suffering on the ground. No one had dared approach her to help. The skin on her back was shredded by the spiked head of the whip. He cast a second Dark Mend on her. How could these people be so broken? He decided against sneaking around. If Flatiron discovered his absence, he probably wouldn't even be the one who paid the price. A quick Analyze told him that the woman would have been near death from that one casual blow, if not for his Dark Mend.
H
e lay down where he was, waiting for an opportunity to present itself, waiting for most of the slaves to fall asleep so he could act. He couldn't just sit here doing nothing, but he also couldn't cause harm to those around him. He lay still for a few hours in deep Meditation before summoning his Shadow Clone. As he started using the skill, he thought hard about his second self entering Stealth instantly.
His creation obliged, and he watched through its eyes as it snuck around the sleeping slaves on the ground. He intentionally had it pass by the injured woman, sound asleep and blessedly alive. His clone navigated from rubble to rubble, attempting to find other patches of humans.
The search didn't take long. Rocky found group after group. Each camp of sleeping humans numbered in the hundreds to thousands. He crept through the lines and hunted for his family as he went. Memorizing the location of each group, he searched. He hoped the Taskmasters used the same areas each night.
He picked through the debris and kicked a piece of gravel. A pebble never sounded so loud as it did in the silence of night. His clone froze as the stone pinged from metal sheets to piles of bricks.
A building— no, a hand that used to be a building,—fell onto his clone. His connection to it cut off and a boom thundered in the distance. Through the chill night air, screams echoed from the direction his clone had fallen. His heart shattered as he recognized the screams as those of pain. He swallowed the lump in his throat, hoping that he hadn't killed anyone just now.
A whip cracked out near him, and he started into a sitting position as someone in his group shrieked.
Flatiron barked, “No commotions,” and flicked his whip.
Rocky stared at an older gentleman in his sixties, blood pooling under him, and met his eyes.
Flatiron pulled back the whip, and the man's dying body went with it. Rocky reached out a hand, but the man vanished so quickly that he wasn’t sure if it even happened. A shadow flew through the air and crashed into rubble nearby. There was a quick scream that instantly cut off. Everything had happened so fast—Rocky could barely register it.
He wasn’t sure how many deaths he was responsible for. There were so many camps nearby. He stared at the gentleman’s blood sinking into the soil. He had killed at least one person. He clenched his fists as he stayed seated, fixating on the bloody mud until the sun rose.
As soon as a light crested the horizon, golems shouted, rousing the slaves under their control.
Rocky was nearly dead on his feet after the third trip to the rubble heap. He forced himself to move and continued to look at each group he passed, scanning each face in the hopes of finding his sister or mother.
Around mid-morning, he passed Gamma and a group of fifty humans pulling a large tire from a front-end loader. Gamma held up a hand to halt Flatiron. Once Flatiron snapped his whip, the group of slaves dropped the ropes they held and sat down on the ground. Rocky followed suit and listened to the conversation.
“What do you make of this army that is marching north?” Gamma asked Flatiron.
“No army can touch us. No army can hope to win against The Three. Perhaps we should slaughter some flesh bags to punish the attempt?”
Gamma looked unconcerned but clenched his fist. With a steady voice, he said, “Supposedly these humans attacking are more robot than human. The scouts are saying that they are far stronger than other humans they have met. A few of our brothers died trying to learn more.”
Flatiron's whip handle creaked under the pressure of his straining fist and arm. He shouted, “Has anyone been told how long until they arrive? I would very much like to meet one of these mechanical fleshies!”
Rocky could tell by the nutjob’s voice that it was hoping for revenge. At least the pea brain didn't exact his revenge on targets close at hand.
“No one has told me an exact time, no. They aren't rushing here, but they are destroying any groups of golems and cities they find along the way. They seem to hold a grudge against our kind. We used to consult our slave in these matters—would you mind if I spoke to him?”
Flatiron waved a hand dismissively. “Ask one of your flesh suits. These are mine to control.” With that, he cracked his whip, and everyone stood to resume the work of hauling a piece of debris that Flatiron could have lifted on his own.
The Floridians were moving north. Why they were coming north and liberating towns on the way, he couldn't say. Yet, he would guess it had something to do with his flight to New York on the starship. Ernest had warned him not to come south... or he had to consider the much scarier option. Dahrix was beginning to take more control.
Rocky assumed that the Floridians were making their way to New York to find his army or his settlements. Either they were going to attack this place when they discovered humans as slaves. Or they were going to negotiate with Empire.
The Golem Knights were trying to spread misinformation about the Floridians. If they swayed the opinions of the New York golems by the time they arrived, then the conditions would be ripe for a fight.
While it was a good plan, it also meant that this place was going to turn into a war zone. That wouldn't bode well for his family. Or for him. His time was running out. He shuddered as the consequences of last night’s search entered his thoughts.
He needed a timeline for the Floridians’ arrival. He couldn't just blunder around with his clone every night. Last night proved it wouldn't be easy. It all depended on whether the Mechano-Lords from Florida were the only things moving north, or if they were bringing the vehicle fleet.
For the rest of his labor-filled day, he came to terms with his failure, accepted it, and resolved to do better.
No apologies. No excuses. Just action.
Shortly after Gamma's stop, around mid-afternoon, they ate another bowl of the grass stew. Where the golems were getting the meat was unclear, but there was plenty of wildlife in the surrounding area. For the strong, intelligent golems, he doubted much posed a threat.
At night, he mixed an Elixir of Shortened Sleep into his grass stew. The new concoction nearly made him vomit. He chugged it down and was the first human to fall asleep that night. He woke up an hour later. He needed the sleep to ensure he was wide awake for what he was going to do next. He couldn't afford another mistake, so he summoned his courage and entered Meditation.
Once within it, he summoned his Shadow Clone into Stealth and crept around the sleeping slaves. He knew a few of their names now, but that was only because of Analyze. He had yet to hear a single one of them speak, and if anything, it increased his worry about the situation here. If the humans hadn't been allowed to socialize for two months, their spirits might have broken beyond repair.
Rocky paid close attention to his movements and made his way from camp to camp. He would not make a mistake this evening—this night, he explored until the sun rose. As the sun peeked over the horizon, Rocky sent his clone to join another group of survivors. He ordered it to lay down and follow the commands of the golem Taskmaster.
He may be able to examine its memories later, and perhaps he would recognize his family. He hoped this would double the number of people he examined. Flatiron roused them the same way he had the morning before, with a vicious whip crack and a shout, “Rise and work, useless vermin.”
Rocky, much more rested today, looked over everyone who passed him. He didn't recognize a single face, and by his lunchtime meal of grass stew, despair had sunk in. Epsilon sat nearby during his brief mid-afternoon reprieve. He spoke loudly to another golem Rocky couldn't see. “That rumoured ship from the north is supposedly scouting out the city each day. The scouts estimate the robots will be here in three days. Do you think they will both attack to save their fellow humans?”
Epsilon had just given Rocky the timeline he needed.
The other golem said, “They will likely try. Empire has recalled the chosen, which worries me. If these humans weren't a threat, Empire would handle them himself. Right?”
Epsilon shrugged. “Empire is mighty, but he cannot be everywhere
at once. These humans seem to be surrounding us. The ones in the north aren't destroying all golems as they approach, at least. The ones in the south can only be coming for our destruction.”
The conversation continued, but Flatiron forced his group back to work. The tension radiated off of the golem Taskmaster and Rocky hoped no one would set off Flatiron’s anger. He doubted the outcome would be good.
Later in the day, a group of humans 'cut off' their group at an intersection. Flatiron berated their Taskmaster and threatened it with his whip. Flatiron screamed, “Control your cattle, you useless Hollow.”
The other golem, Shed, was formed from a silvery material that bulged in odd place,s as if it had been stung by giant wasps. His voice was like that of a petulant child. “The rules of hauling are clear, you ugly lamppost.”
The golems attacked each other. Fists flew, and a few chips of each golem rained down as they fought for dominance. Flatiron quickly gained the upper hand and pinned down the smaller, pudgy golem. “Surpass the other group and continue. This lesser creature shall wait.”
The superiority in Flatiron's voice made Rocky sigh with relief. It sounded like a proud older brother, and Rocky kept his fingers crossed that it had worked out most of its aggression. Walking around with a creature on a hair-trigger was stressful. Rocky noted the evident rise in nerves among the golems.
The news of an invasion put everyone on edge, including the humans who still refused to speak but worked with an enthusiasm he hadn't seen the first few days.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The worst part of each day was adding the debris to Empire’s growing throne. The strength it radiated terrified Rocky. Every time he neared its sabatons, he wondered if he stood next to a god. A soul-crushing god.
If Dahrix was as strong or stronger than this golem, they were in a lot of trouble. He assumed he hadn’t felt that power because they had only met Dahrix in the shop. That, or it was his imagination because of Empire’s sheer size.