Robot Empire: Dawn Exodus: A Science Fiction Adventure

by Kevin Partner

  Rolling the woman onto her side, Arla thumped her back as Shi coughed and sucked in one breath, then another. Her arms flailed as she coughed, flecks of blood showing among the sewage. She turned onto her back and opened her eyes. She was crying, but she was alive.

  “You have saved her!” cried one man as the gathered crowd erupted in cheers, all of the composure they usually showed around a priest gone in that instant.

  Arla stood up and was lost in a sea of arms tugging at her, faces crying and laughing, eyes full of tears. She had performed her first miracle.

  “You are truly a breather of life,” Governor Feng said once he’d forced his way through the crowd. He watched as Shi Tu was carried away by her colleagues and, having shaken Arla’s hand and given a brief bow, he followed them.

  Arla turned to Elias who had watched the whole affair from a distance. The smile died on her lips when she saw his face. “You are a disgrace to the priesthood. Look at you,” he snarled, “your cassock torn and covered in filth. Where is your dignity?”

  “But I saved her! It was the only way,” she protested feebly.

  “Better to have let her die than to disgrace the priesthood. I will make a full report on this, believe me. This will be your last day as a novice if I have any say in the matter. Now, come with me!”

  Arla followed the priest dejectedly towards the transport, hardly noticing the cheers as it took off and headed into the sky. She had done what she thought was right, what she thought Elias was expecting her to do. Or did he expect her to fail? Had she been a sacrifice to preserve his reputation? If she’d failed, after all, it would have been her fault not his. The more she thought about it, the more she knew she was right. The slimy bastard had set her up. Fail and she would lose status and possibly not qualify, succeed and he would say she’d betrayed the priesthood.

  She was confined to the cargo hold as the transport made its way to the priest level, the stench being too great for either Elias or the pilot to bear. They were met by two robots who gently but firmly took her away and showered her before incinerating her cassock. She accepted all this without protest because she knew Elias was correct. This would be her last day as a novice priest.

  And she was right.

  The Engineer

  She felt unusually groggy when she awoke, as if she'd been drinking alcohol – something she hadn't done since she was admitted into the Seminary. Then she noticed that her hands were tied and when she looked up in panic she saw a ceiling she didn't recognise. She tried to cry out, but her mouth was gagged. What had happened? She'd gone to sleep in her usual bed and her only concern had been Elias's reaction to the miracle she had performed the previous day.

  What had seemed a crisis the night before was swept away in the adrenaline of waking up in a strange sterile bed, in a strange sterile environment. A gentle hum was all she could hear and the air smelled of warm dust.

  The door opened and a robot came in, but it was a robot such as she had never seen before. Even the household robots such as R.DJ, whilst humanoid in general shape, had proportions that were more suited to their role as servants and workers on the farms and industrial units that scattered the valley. This robot, on the other hand, was more like a walking mannequin, the kind of fake human made of what looked like plastic and metal. Its eyes weren't hidden behind the sort of protective band that ran horizontally around the top of the head of robots like R.DJ, this robot's eyes were perfectly proportioned and exactly the same size as those of an adult man, although obviously artificial.

  The robot entered the room, and strode over to the bed. Its lifeless eyes looked down at her with the same faint flickering she'd seen in those of R.DJ when he was carrying out a stressful task. His metal hand touched her arm and he paused as if he were a doctor taking a pulse, then he raised his arm, turned around and wordlessly strode from the room.

  Arla watched as he went. The room she was in seemed to be made of metal and contained no furniture save the panel attached to the wall above her head. She couldn't see what the panel contained, but she got the impression of colours and pulsing lights, as if someone was painting it and then rubbing out their markings in time with her heartbeat.

  She let her head drop into the soft pillow and forced air in through her nose, trying her best to breathe deeply and relax as she'd been taught during her priest training. Where was she? Her only theory was that she was being punished for whatever she'd done the day before, though she honestly couldn't understand how saving that woman's life could possibly be a cause for sanction. Her only option was to relax and wait for her punishment.

  She didn't have to wait for long as, only a few minutes after the robot had left, the door opened again, this time admitting a woman. She was small, middle-aged and sported a greying blonde bob of hair shorter than would be considered decent amongst Arla's farming community. The woman strode confidently in, followed by the robot she'd seen earlier who remained beside the door as if he were her protector. She didn't look like any priest that Arla had ever seen, she looked more like the scribes that worked in the chemical factories tallying the batches, or the tax collectors that brought their clipboards and pens at harvest time.

  "I'm sorry about this," she said. "Every time we do this I tell them that gagging is not necessary, after all who you going to call out to? My name is Dr Indira McCall and I'm going to take the gag out now – please do not shout."

  The cloth was swept from her face but it was a few breathless moments before Arla could speak. “Where am I?”

  “Well, now, that question will need to wait a little to be answered in full,” McCall said, with apparently genuine sympathy, “too much information too quickly can be dangerous. Suffice it to say that you are safe, completely safe. I know it’s hard, but I ask you to trust me - I have your best interests at heart.”

  “Am I in trouble? Because of disobeying Father Elias?”

  McCall shook her head. “No, indeed not! You have passed the test and have graduated.”

  “As a priest? Is this the inner sanctum where the miracles are revealed?” Arla managed, her head swimming.

  “No, I think it’s fair to say that you’re not cut out to be a priest,” McCall responded with a warm smile. “You, my dear, are to be an engineer.”

  For two days Arla remained in that room. Her restraints had been removed and she’d been asked not to venture outside. She felt as though this was a test, just like the one she’d passed by chance by saving that sewage worker. But what was the correct response? Should she try to escape? Were they waiting to see if she had the initiative to get away? Or were they testing whether she could be trusted to follow orders? Paralysed by the choice, she decided to stay put because she had no clue where she was - she needed more information before making a break for it.

  Robots, much like the first, came and went, bringing food and some books she’d asked for. The only human being she saw was Dr McCall, though she got the impression of movement from the corridor outside whenever the doctor entered the room.

  Arla found herself settling into her new environment. She no longer noticed the dusty smell or the sterile lighting. She examined the room minutely. The walls were white though, here and there, they’d suffered damage - scuffs and dents mainly. The floor was a shiny black plastic that her feet left no trace on. Half way up the walls and spaced evenly around the room were small square panels that extruded slightly from the surface. Each had an identical complement of circular and rectangular recesses that looked like those that accepted the holy instruments. There were eight of these panels and Arla guessed that the room could hold up to that many beds although, right now, hers was the only one here. The bed itself was made of plastic. It was clean and comfortable but, when she examined it closely, it bore the marks of age.

  McCall had brought her clothes to wear. An outer suit of shirt and trousers in a blue so pure and deep she wondered how they had been made. The clothes felt smoother and yet more rigid than those she was used to at home and as a
n acolyte.

  There was also a glass ball embedded in the ceiling. She’d never seen anything like it, but she felt as though it were an artificial eye, watching her. Each morning, when it was time to dress, she pushed the bed away from the wall and put on her underwear behind its cover.

  She tensed as she heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching the door, and the gentle puff of its locking mechanism. Dr McCall stepped in. Under her arm she carried a bundle of folded clothes which she placed on the bed with some ceremony. “This is your uniform and these...” she said, dropping a pair of black boots on top, “are your shoes. Are you ready to see what’s outside this door?”

  McCall reflected back Arla’s beaming smile. “Those clothes you have on now are for use during leisure hours, you can leave them here and I’ll have them taken to your quarters. Your uniform should fit well enough, but it can be adjusted if necessary.” She turned and left the room, closing the door behind her. This time, the locking mechanism was not activated.

  Arla unfolded the uniform. It was of a deep blue that flirted with black, the only accent being a strip of reflective cloth that ran up the outside of each leg and arm. The cloth felt much more dense than the light cotton trousers and tops she was used to, closer to priestly vestments but of obviously higher quality. There was a one-piece top that she pulled over her head, breathing in a sharp, nasal, aroma that she thought must be the dye, and smoothed it down her torso. The top seemed to expand and contract as she breathed without feeling at all restrictive, and the trousers, which were made of the same material, also hugged her legs in a warm, pleasant, way.

  She looked at herself in the mirror. Even though she was twenty years old, her pencil-like body shape and the short hair she’d worn as a priest left her looking more like a pubescent boy. But these were, without doubt, the finest clothes she’d ever worn and, on her left shoulder, shone a golden emblem, somehow woven into the fabric. She moved closer to the mirror to get a better look. It was a rising sun.

  Arla opened the door a crack, then, when nothing catastrophic happened, a little more. Her door opened onto a whitewashed corridor. Dr McCall stood against the wall watching her as Arla looked left and right. The corridor stretched for some way to the left and right, with doors at regular intervals on both sides and at each end. She swung around at the familiar puff and a face peered back at her from what was, presumably, another room like hers. The face was of a girl of around her age, but the first thing Arla noticed was her skin, which was of a rich chestnut, and her thick, tightly curled, hair.

  “This is Kiama,” Dr McCall said, gesturing at the other girl. “She arrived just before you. We don’t usually have two to orient at the same time, but it is probably no bad thing. Come Kiama Mchungaji, do not be afraid.”

  The girl edged out of her room and Arla could see that she was dressed in exactly the same way, down to the sunrise on her shoulder. Arla smiled in a way she hoped was reassuring.

  “Where are you from?” Kiama said.

  At first, Arla struggled to understand what she said. Kiama spoke with an accent that was very different to hers and, indeed, Dr McCall’s. It was thick and sonorous with more expression of the vowels than Arla had ever heard. She’d met people from all over the valley, but they all spoke in much the same way. Then a thought hit her. “Are you from beyond the sky?"

  Kiama paused. Was it because she didn’t understand Arla’s words or was it the meaning? After all, Arla herself wasn’t entirely sure of what she was saying.

  “You will find out the answer to that question and many others very soon, Apprentice,” McCall said to Arla. “Very soon indeed. Now, I think it’s time I showed you where you truly are.”

  She strode to the door at the end of the corridor, turned the handle and swung it open.

  Dawn

  The corridor filled with the chatter of a watching crowd that fell into silence as the door slid open and Dr McCall stepped through.

  Arla could see, beyond her, a gaggle of people straining to see down the corridor. Most were dressed in uniforms like hers, although the dark blue had faded to varying degrees. Arla crept forward to the threshold of the door, her eyes drawn to these people. There were perhaps three dozen men and women, all adults, though most of them young with only a few grey-hairs like the doctor.

  “Come,” McCall said, waving to Arla. “Come and meet your crewmates.”

  Arla stepped nervously through and, as she did so, the crowd began to applaud and she could make out cries of welcome and encouragement. They were gathered in a large room. No, it was a corridor, much bigger than the one she’d emerged from and running at right angles to it. Aside from the people, it was the walls she noticed first - an almost continuous row of portraits of people in uniforms, and each had a brass dedication.

  She turned to Kiama and held out her hand. The girl took it and stepped through, flinching from the applause that grew even louder when she appeared.

  The doctor raised her hands in what was obviously a well understood signal and the people fell silent and melted away, their clanky footsteps fading away until the corridor was empty except for the three of them.

  “When you stepped through that door, you became crew.”

  “But what are crew?” Arla asked.

  McCall smiled. “You have heard of the Engineers? The ones who visit the valley during curfew?”

  Both girls nodded.

  “The crew are the Engineers. You will become them too.”

  Arla shook her head passionately. “No, the Engineers are holy. We learned that in the valley and I was taught it during my training to be a priest.”

  “Me also,” Kiama said. “And I have seen them - they can fly without wings and without ships, no person can do that.”

  Smiling, McCall said: “I understand this is hard for you. Much of what you see in the coming days will challenge what you have been taught. You will understand why you were told those things about the crew, but for now, come with me and I will begin your training.”

  The doctor set off along the deserted corridor, the only sound the metallic thud of her boots on the floor, the two girls scampering along beside her, desperate not to be left alone in this alien place. The corridor ended in a wall and in that wall was a panel that, when McCall pressed her hand to it, slid open.

  Inside was a small room with no obvious exit other than the one they’d just stepped through. There was some sort of lit decoration on one of the otherwise bare walls except for what looked like handles placed on the walls and ceiling, there were even recessed grips in the floor.

  “Bio tunnel observation,” McCall said.

  “Acknowledged, Bio tunnel observation deck. ETA one hundred and thirty-five seconds.” The voice seemed to come from everywhere and, though the words themselves were clear enough, they were delivered in a flat, emotionless, voice. Like that of a robot.

  Arla was about to open her mouth when the room began to move. It was a subtle shift to her balance and there were no visual signs - except that the lit decoration she’d noticed began to spread across the wall, as if it were following the room’s progress.

  “This is called a pod. It’s a small room, like a sort of enclosed cart, that runs on rails so that we can get to places that are not otherwise easy to reach.”

  There was nothing to say to this because Arla didn’t really understand a word of it. She still had no idea where she was.

  After a few moments, she began to feel a little unsteady, as if the blood were draining from her feet, and she put her hand out to touch the wall.

  “Yes, you will feel a little odd,” the doctor said when she noticed this, “I won’t explain it yet, but you’ll feel lighter and lighter until, soon, you will have no weight at all. You’ll find the handles useful soon.”

  Sure enough, Arla felt as though her body were becoming lighter. It was as if the transporter were filling with water - the only time she’d experienced anything like it was when she’d been swimming in Oxbow Lake. She l
ooked across at Kiama who stood, with eyes wide, as she lifted each foot, as if testing whether they really were lighter. She gave a shriek and Arla went to comfort her, but her cry hadn’t been born of fear, the girl was delighted.

  Then, quite suddenly, Arla felt her feet lift and she was floating. She reached for a handle, her palm slamming into the cold metal wall and sending her reeling away to collide with the opposite side of the room a few moments later. A strong hand grasped her arm and she turned her head to see McCall, one hand on a rail and the other on her. Kiama, meanwhile, was doing somersaults.

  “I feel sick” Arla said.

  McCall pulled Arla towards her. “Grab that handle,” she said before dipping her hand into her pocket and bringing out a small plastic box that she flipped open. She opened a flap and a tiny circular pill floated out. “Here, swallow this. I came prepared.”

  Arla grabbed the pill and swallowed just as the pod came to a gentle halt.

  “Give it a moment and it’ll be better,” McCall said with a smile. “And don’t worry, weightlessness affects most people that way the first time.”

  “Not her, though,” Arla managed, waving a hand in Kiama’s general direction.

  “Yes, she’s a natural.”

  Kiama came to a halt, floating gently in front of the doctor and Arla. “It’s wonderful,” she said, “like swimming only better!”

  “Well, now it’s time for me to show you what we’ve come to see, but before we do, tell me Kiama where it is you come from.”

  The young woman’s dark face hardened. “I don’t know what you mean. There is only the valley.”

  “And you, Arla, where do you come from?”

  “Everyone comes from the valley.”