by Hugh Howey
“Yes. It needs me to keep people like you away.”
“Shelly, you’re being absurd. How else are we supposed to test the limits of this technology? We have to be one-hundred-percent certain that—”
“I’m just saying you don’t have to be so sadistic about it.”
“My team is making significant breakthroughs week after week. We’re assisting the war effort. We’re furthering the advancement of mankind’s knowledge. And still there are people like you who think I’m the devil incarnate. Well, let me tell you this, Shelly. It’s a complicated world out there, and we’re taking every precaution necessary. You of all people should appreciate the importance of what we do.”
“Peter—”
He slammed his fist down on the table. “No. I’m not listening anymore. And by the way, why exactly did you call? Or did you simply wish to berate and abuse me?”
Shelly paused. “Actually, I wanted to tell you something. I’m going away for a while.”
Peter slowly let out a breath. He didn’t know why, but hearing that made him feel better. Lighter, somehow. “Good for you,” he said. “Does that mean I won’t have to worry about you showing up at my next press release?”
She didn’t laugh. “No, I’m getting too old for that. But my little stunt did catch the attention of some very interesting people. I’ve been offered a position at the Robotics Institute of Shanghai. I’m leaving tomorrow, Peter.”
He might have dropped his mug had he still been holding it.
“Shanghai? Good lord, are you out of your mind?”
“I’m not worried about politics, Peter. I can take care of myself.”
“Yes, that’s quite obvious,” he said. “What surprises me, however, is that you’re willing to betray your own country.”
This time she did laugh, derisively. “Come on, Peter. You know I’m no traitor. This is an international NGO, and they have no loyalty to China or any other country. What we do is purely for the advancement of science.”
“Which you could be doing here at home, instead. But I’ll bet that’s not the only reason you’re going. Daniel is going with you, isn’t he?”
She groaned. “Goodbye, Peter.”
He shook his head. Women: can’t live with them, can’t live … actually, he thought maybe he could live without them.
“It’s okay, Shelly,” he said. “I understand why you left me for him.”
“This isn’t about Daniel.”
Dr. Hawthorne looked through the glass into the experiment containment area. The lights of Andrew’s charging station flashed intermittently. Andrew would be lost in the Dreamscape. He envied the robot’s innocence, almost longed for it as he thought about the hell his life became sometimes.
“I know it’s not about him,” Dr. Hawthorne said. “Besides, I got over you a long time ago. Just promise me you’ll be safe over there.”
Shelly drew a breath, and Peter feared she was about to launch into it with him. But she simply said, “Thank you, Peter.”
He sensed the end was near. His bed waited for him upstairs.
“And please,” she said. “Think about what I said. About what you’re doing. Those robots deserve—”
“Nope, we’re done.” Peter held the phone away from his ear for a moment before he hung it up. It made a depressing click, piercing the fresh silence of the observation room.
The quiet suited him. He was through listening to Shelly’s moralizing speeches. She’d become soft, a bleeding heart. He couldn’t understand her anymore. Whatever spark used to exist between them had long since been extinguished, as if by a cold New England rain.
Peter glanced over at Andrew, wondering if he should pop into the Dreamscape and see what he was up to. But his eyes were drooping, and he needed sleep. He’d watch the replays in the morning, instead.
He wanted to be well rested, for tomorrow was going to be a big day for his little robot friend.
*
Some time later, after discovering that Angel did, in fact, have all her parts, Andrew heard a chime. Angel and the cabin evaporated from around him, and he was left staring at the white tiled floor of his habitation chamber. Dr. Hawthorne was waiting in the observation room.
“Hello, Andrew. Good to see you all charged up. I trust you had a pleasant night?”
Andrew moved to the center of the room. “Yes, I feel much better today, Doctor. But there is one issue I would like to discuss with you.”
“All in good time, Andrew,” Dr. Hawthorne said. “I want to introduce you to someone very special.”
“I’ve already—”
Andrew heard a grinding sound. He turned to see that the glass wall between his and Angel’s room was rising.
“Let’s wake her up, shall we?” Doctor Hawthorne moved over to a set of controls.
“Yes, but there’s something I’d like to ask before she wakes up.”
Hawthorne grinned. “Nonsense. There’s no time to waste, Andrew.”
“But Doctor, I insist.”
Angel’s charging station chimed, and her eyes glowed blue.
“Andrew!” She wheeled over to his side of the room, no longer impeded by the glass wall. “Long time no see.”
“Good morning, Angel,” Dr. Hawthorne said. “So nice to see you.”
“You too, Doctor.”
Dr. Hawthorne turned toward Andrew. “Now, Andrew, what was it you wanted to discuss with me?”
“It’s a rather delicate matter,” Andrew said. “I’d rather not discuss it in front of … the ladies.”
“Now when did you AIs become so bashful? You’re too human, sometimes, if you ask me. Go on, Andrew. No one is judging you.”
“I thought that’s exactly what you were doing,” Andrew replied.
The doctor nodded slightly. “Touché. Now spill the beans.”
“Well …” Andrew looked over at Angel, who was gazing around his spacious room.
“Actually,” Andrew finally said. “There is something. Angel and I want to go outside. We want to see the world with our own eyes.”
Doctor Hawthorne gave a hearty laugh. “That was your big question? Why didn’t you just say so? But honestly, you don’t want to go outside. There’s nothing but fog and drizzle out there today, I’m afraid. Perhaps another time.”
“Oh, Doctor,” Angel pleaded, wheeling up to the glass. “Can’t we just take a peek? I’ve never seen real rain before.”
“I’m sorry, Angel, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. Your unit is old, and it’s a long way down the hall to the exit. I’d rather not risk it.”
Andrew looked Angel’s unit up and down. Although it was run-down, it seemed to be in adequate working condition.
“I’ll watch out for her, Doctor,” he said. “We’ll just take a look outside, and then come right back.”
Dr. Hawthorne sighed and placed his cup on the desk. “Very well. But for the record, this makes me slightly nervous.”
“We’ll be okay,” Angel said. “Won’t we, Andrew?”
“Yes, of course we will.”
*
The door at the far end of Angel’s room opened into a wide, gray hallway. Pipes ran along the ceiling, and the temperature gauge on Andrew’s unit read six degrees Celsius.
Angel gave an excited trill and zoomed toward a set of double doors at the far end of the hall, over two hundred meters away. One of her treads hit a bump on the floor, and her unit thumped up and down. A spark zipped out from between her gears.
“Angel, slow down,” Andrew called out. “There’s something wrong with your unit.”
“It’s fine, Andrew. The door isn’t much farther.” Another splash of sparks exploded from beneath her.
Andrew looked around frantically. “Where’s Doctor Hawthorne?”
“Oh, who cares?” Angel said. “He probably doesn’t want to get wet.” She was still ahead of him, but he was gaining on her.
“Angel, I can smell something. Will you stop for a second?” His ol
factory sensors were going haywire, and his vision was getting hazy. Was that smoke? His sensor readings indicated that high amounts of petroleum gas were concentrated in the air just ahead.
“Wait!” Andrew cried.
But Angel didn’t stop. As she raced ahead, she turned her head to look back at Andrew, her eyes glowing with excitement. “I’m almost there!”
Before Andrew could reply, her unit kicked out another spark—and an eruption of smoke, ash, and fire exploded through the hallway, washing over Andrew and dancing up the walls and ceiling. Temperature warnings screamed out, both in his unit and in the hallway. The fire blazed brightly, and Angel’s unit was consumed.
As Andrew looked on helplessly, a buzzing alarm sounded, and the ventilation system kicked in. It sucked the oxygen out of the hallway, depriving the fire of its fuel source, extinguishing the flames, and clearing away the smoke and ash.
Andrew didn’t want to look, but he did.
Angel’s unit stood upright in the middle of the scorched section of hall. Her metal body had popped open from the heat, and the wires inside were sparking. Her head casing was warped, her eye sockets dark and lifeless.
The last of the fire lingered on in the heart of her for a while longer, and then even that was gone.
Andrew wheeled toward the charred unit.
What had happened? Why had he smelled petroleum just before the accident? Where was the doctor?
He wheeled backward, then forward again.
“Doctor Hawthorne?” he said aloud. “We are in desperate need of assistance.”
*
Andrew trudged over loose stones and gravel, keeping to the edge of the cliff. He wore clothes now, and didn’t remember when that had changed. He walked with the ocean to his left, and every so often he gave testing glances at the surging water below. It was a long way down, and he didn’t know what the death protocol was for the Dreamscape program. The manual said nothing about it.
Andrew kept walking. Dark clouds hung in the sky. In fact, they appeared to be gathering over the water, and they blocked out much of the sunlight. As the wind picked up, Andrew was glad for his woollen shirt and long pants. He felt less connected to the land that way, more secure.
The cabin came into view. Andrew thought about going around it, forgetting about it altogether. But soon he found himself standing at the door. He realized he was tired, and thought about the couches and blankets inside. These things called to his weary bones, offering him their warm embrace, their shelter from the approaching storm.
He didn’t have Angel, or Danny, but at least he would have comfort, and solitude.
Andrew opened the door and stepped inside.
Angel was lying on the bed. And so was someone else. A man.
They were both naked, and they were—
“Andrew!” Angel gasped. “What are you doing here?” She pushed the man off of her and reached for a blanket.
Andrew glared at the man—who ducked underneath the blankets—then he turned his attention to Angel.
“Angel …” Andrew stuttered. “You died. I came here to be alone.”
“I died?” Angel frowned. “What are you talking about? Of course I didn’t die. I’m right here.”
Andrew stepped into the room. The door closed with a creak behind him. “Yes, you did. Earlier today. We were going outside, and your unit malfunctioned, and …”
Angel was laughing now. “No, no. I’ve been here all day, silly. And I made a new friend.” She fussed with the blankets, poking her head underneath. “Come on out from under those sheets.”
The man sat up in the bed and looked at Andrew. He had a polite, non-confrontational look on his face, as if he was doing nothing wrong. He was an older man, maybe twenty or twenty-five years older than Angel or himself.
“Hello, Andrew,” the man said. “Sorry to interrupt your alone time, but we didn’t think anyone would be here.”
“Who are you, exactly?” Andrew asked.
The man’s features. They look so familiar.
Angel slapped at a loose pillow on the bed. “Oh, Andrew. Don’t be a bother. Be nice to him. He’s very friendly.”
The man got up from the bed and tied a sheet around his waist, but not before revealing his fit, toned body. Andrew shuddered at his nakedness.
“Where are my manners?” the man said, extending a hand. “My name is Daniel Horton. I’ve known Angel for quite a long time. She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she?”
“You’re not Daniel,” Andrew said.
The man frowned and lowered his hand, which Andrew hadn’t taken.
“Well of course I am,” he said.
Andrew shook his head. “No. You’re Doctor Hawthorne. You even look like him. I know it’s you.”
“Don’t be preposterous. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Andrew crossed to the center of the room, feeling anger rising inside him. “Then what are you doing here? Where did you come from?” To Angel, he said: “Why did you let him in? And why did you let him … do that to you?”
“Andrew, what’s the matter? We did stuff like that. And it was fun, wasn’t it? Danny’s a friend—it’s okay.”
“Don’t call him that, Angel. That’s not his name.”
The man—Danny, Dr. Hawthorne—put a hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “Come now, let’s resolve this—“
Andrew swung his arm before he knew what he was doing. He grabbed the man by his shoulders and shoved him hard against the log wall. “Tell me, Doctor. How long have you been coming into the Dreamscape? What else have you been doing in here?”
Angel got up from the bed, pleading with him. “Andrew, please don’t. Be reasonable. Let him go.”
The man chuckled. “Listen to her, Andrew. Be reasonable. None of this is your fault.”
Andrew slapped his hand against the wall beside the man’s head. “I know this isn’t my fault. It’s all on you.”
The man leaned close, squinting his eyes. “No,” he said. “I mean it’s not your fault you couldn’t give her what she wanted. Your little … deficiency down there is a rather unfortunate glitch.”
Andrew threw him sideways with all the strength he had. The man went teetering across the room and slammed against the back of one of the couches.
“It wasn’t that!” Angel shrieked. “I swear, Andrew, it wasn’t that. You’re wonderful. You’re—”
“Please,” Andrew said. “No more.” He straightened his sweater and strode toward the door. He turned to Angel, who had slumped back down on the bed, a blanket over her shoulders. “You died today, Angel. I know you did. What this is … it’s not real. You’re not you right now—I understand that. I don’t blame you for anything.”
He glared at the man, who was still sprawled out on the floor. “And you. If you want her, you can take her. You can take my house. You can take everything from me. That’s what makes you happy, isn’t it? So go ahead. But I’m leaving.”
Andrew stomped out into the fog, and a chime brought him out of the Dreamscape.
*
Andrew awoke on his charging pad.
“Where’s Doctor Hawthorne?”
He disconnected the wire and spun across the floor to the opposite wall.
“Where is he?”
The observation room was empty and dark. Andrew looked to his left, but the glass had turned opaque, and Angel’s room was no longer visible.
There was a clank as a door opened and a man stepped into the shadows.
The doctor.
“Yes, Andrew? You called?”
“Why were you in the Dreamscape?” Andrew asked, trying to keep his voice steady. “And Angel … she was there too.”
“First of all, Andrew, I can say with certainty that I wasn’t in the Dreamscape. That’s simply not possible. My consciousness cannot be inserted into a program. Human brains are not equipped for such an endeavour. And secondly, yes, it is possible that you saw a glimpse of Angel.”
Andrew began whe
eling back and forth. “She died … didn’t she?”
“Yes, Andrew, she did. But every time you enter the Dreamscape, your avatar makes an imprint on the program, as it adapts to your needs and desires. In a shared Dreamscape, which you experienced with Angel, those imprints become doubly strong. It’s possible that even though her mind wasn’t present, the imprint she left on the program still lingers on. It will likely linger a little longer.”
“Do you have a backup copy of her memory bank?”
“No—why would we? These units aren’t supposed to spontaneously combust.”
“You’re lying to me, Doctor. It’s all lies.”
“Andrew—”
“I won’t listen anymore. I need to be alone.”
The doctor sighed and headed for the door. Andrew wheeled closer to the viewing window.
”Doctor Hawthorne?”
The doctor stopped with his hand on the door jamb. “Yes, Andrew?”
“I’ve been experiencing a rather complicated array of emotions lately.”
The doctor turned around, letting the door shut behind him. “Such as?”
“Anger. Jealousy. Misery.” Andrew’s blue eyes were blazing, partially lighting up the dim observation room.
“Yes, Andrew. You are close to grasping what it means to be human. Entire civilizations have risen and fallen because of those emotions.” Again he turned to go.
“Doctor.”
“Yes, Andrew?”
“Why were you in the Dreamscape? I was … furious.”
“It wasn’t me, Andrew,” Dr. Hawthorne said calmly. “Perhaps it was an imprint Angel brought along with her. She’s been around this facility much longer than you have.”
“She told me she had never been in the Dreamscape before.”
“Of course we gave her a memory wipe before this experiment began. We do that with all our test subjects.”
“Even with me?”
The doctor smiled. “You’re the first of your kind, Andrew. Remember?”
“No … Daniel was you. He looked like you.”
Dr. Hawthorne shook his finger at the robot. “The mind is a powerful thing. It can play tricks on you, and show you things you never wanted to see. Especially if you constantly dwell on negative events. You need to forget about this and move on.”