Twisted Metal

by Tony Ballantyne

  ‘Eleanor. What did you say your name was?’

  ‘Di’Anno. Funny. I don’t remember meeting you before, and I thought I knew most of the STs on this incursion.’

  ‘You know what, I really don’t care.’

  Kavan came to attention by the group. ‘Area’s clear, Eleanor. All ready to move out.’

  ‘Very good, Kavan. Have the robots form up in two lines.’

  ‘Kavan?’ said one of the Storm Troopers. ‘You were in Stark. I’ve heard of you. You’re a hero.’

  ‘I don’t know about that.’

  ‘You’re also trouble.’

  ‘Oh, I am,’ said Kavan. ‘You’ve no idea how much.’

  The three Storm Troopers were moving swiftly, forming a triangle, Kavan at the centre of it.

  ‘You are under arrest. We have orders to bring you to field command.’

  ‘Field command are fools,’ said Kavan. ‘I would have issued orders long ago for my immediate execution.’ He glanced at Eleanor. ‘Okay then,’ he said. ‘Take me in.’

  Eleanor

  Eleanor had not expected to see so many colours inside a creature. Greased iron alloy plates over brass and aluminium, steel and copper bones steeped in rock oil. The looming bulk of the whale seemed to have been more excavated than disassembled.

  The creature had been dragged up the concrete slipway from the water by steel ropes. It lay on its side in the shallow cutting that slid down into the clear water of Wien bay, Artemisian soldiers walking over and around it, inspecting its parts. The top half of the creature was still reasonably intact: General Fallan himself, full of the flush of victory, had invited Eleanor to join him as he picked his way carefully over the greased, interlocking plates of the whale’s flank. They had both watched the troops peeling away copper plate and electromuscle from the exposed interior of the beast. They had looked down into the scratched quartz bowl that protected its eye, seen the faint glow and felt the creature focus on him.

  ‘It’s still alive?’ he had asked.

  At first Eleanor thought he was speaking to her, but then Ruth, the General’s aide, had answered.

  ‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘The Wieners always preserve the brains. They put them in the support tanks at the top of the towers,’ and she had waved her hand to indicate the few marble towers that still rose from the islands of Wiener bay.

  ‘General,’ interrupted Eleanor, ‘there is someone below who wishes to speak . . .’

  ‘In a moment, Storm Trooper,’ said the General. ‘Look at all this metal. Don’t you wish to rebuild yourself too?’ He waved a hand at the other troops as they swarmed over the half-demolished body, pulling apart the metal of the whale and clothing their bodies in its superior plate.

  ‘I will, General. It’s just that . . .’

  ‘All those marble towers,’ said the General, smooth in his new whaleskin body, ‘They each hold a mind, you know. Ruth tells me that the Wieners allow the whale minds to see by fashioning them eyes set in the windows of the towers. They give them ears to hear.’

  ‘Really?’ Eleanor had taken a real dislike to this smoothly engineered man. He spent his time dressing himself in whale metal and engaging in discussion while the remnants of the battle still played out around him. In her opinion, he wasn’t fit for purpose.

  ‘Oh yes,’ he continued. ‘The Wieners suspend these creatures’ non-sentient minds over the city. Tell me, do those whales think they are still under the sea, that the smoke that rises into the sky from the city forges is a new sort of weed, that the robots that walk beneath them are crabs and shellfish?’

  ‘I don’t know, General.’

  ‘The thought puzzles me! Why have the Wieners kept the whale minds alive? Why do they do it?’

  ‘They’ve always done it,’ said Ruth, as if that was an answer.

  From the surrounding city came the sound of stamping feet: Stamp, stamp, stamp; stamp, stamp, stamp.

  ‘Still going strong, I hear,’ said General Fallan, and there was polite laughter from his staff. Eleven members of high command, all newly clad in whaleskin.

  Eleanor had heard him speaking on the subject just as she had arrived in his presence, escorting Kavan through the perimeter of guards: ‘This skin is strong, heavy,’ the General had said. ‘Let this be our badge of victory. We will wear it with pride, not turn away from this gift in fear, like Nicolas the Coward.’

  The first flush of victory, thought Eleanor, funny how quickly it ebbs away. All around there were the sounds of celebration. The General seemed to have forgotten that there was still much work to do. He began to descend down the side of the stricken whale, the rest of his entourage following him.

  ‘We need to discuss our next move,’ said Ruth. ‘Turing City.’

  ‘Give us a break, Ruth!’ laughed General Fallan. ‘We need to rest, repair and regroup. We shall establish ourselves here in Wien, and ensure that we have full control before we move on.’

  ‘No, General,’ said Eleanor firmly, ‘we haven’t got the time.’

  At that General Fallan finally seemed to notice Eleanor properly. He gazed at her in her big black Storm Trooper body.

  ‘I’m sorry, soldier. Why exactly are you here?’

  At that the concrete slipway echoed to the sound of marching feet. Kavan had grown impatient, had marched forward with the rest of the grey infantry. Walked forward to meet the General, now stepping down from the body of the whale.

  Kavan moved forward and pointed out Eleanor.

  ‘She is here because she brought me here, General. Me and the rest of my squad. And no one questioned our presence. Sloppy, General, way too sloppy.’

  Eleanor towered above Kavan in her new body. Even so, the quiet authority that seemed to radiate from him left the General in no doubt who was in charge.

  ‘We need to attack Turing City swiftly,’ said Kavan, ‘while this victory is still in their minds. We have the strength and the will.’

  ‘Who are you?’ asked General Fallan. ‘How dare you interrupt my war council?’

  ‘This is no war council. This is a group of tired, discredited old robots justifying their bad decisions and growing fat on the spoils of war.’

  To Fallan’s obvious astonishment, Kavan leaned forward and flicked the dark whale iron of his breastplate.

  ‘How dare you speak to me like that, soldier?’ Fallan gazed coolly at Kavan. ‘Look at you, standing here in the midst of plenty and you still wear a body of old grey metal. Look at your troop.’ He turned to his staff, and from the city the sound of the stamping grew louder: Stamp, stamp, stamp; stamp, stamp, stamp. ‘I’ve met these sort of robots before,’ he announced loudly. ‘In the middle of a battle they think of nothing but their own safety. They play it safe and shelter until the real work is done and then they come out at the end to share in the credit.’

  Everyone was watching now. His staff, the junior robots who had stripped the whale, his guard, sleek in their silver bodies, all listening to his denunciation of this dull grey robot.

  ‘Cowards,’ the General announced, warming to his theme. ‘But they are cowards not only in war but in victory, too. They creep through a conquered city taking only what their timid nature allows! Whilst other soldiers rip the metal from the population and the wire from the enemy mind, they are content to pick up the few scraps that fall unnoticed to the floor. Look – look at that whale over there! Metal and electromuscle beyond the quality that you now wear, soldier. You stand here speaking to me when you should be over there, replating your body for the glory of Artemis.’

  Kavan didn’t move.

  ‘Come on,’ said Fallan. ‘Why don’t you go and help yourself? I know why. Like Nicolas the Coward, you find yourself granted huge opportunities but fear to accept them.’

  General Fallan waved his hand in a final flourish. No one spoke. Only the persistent sound of distant Artemisian robots stamping echoed around the slipway.

  Still Kavan said nothing.

  ‘Well?’ said Gene
ral Fallan. ‘Don’t you have anything to say before I have you led from here and stripped apart?’

  Kavan spoke. Old metal body, scratched grey paint. His voice was quiet.

  ‘My name is Kavan. I am taking control of this army.’

  ‘Like Tok you are,’ laughed Fallan. ‘I see what you are now. A half-build renegade! A mind from here, a mind from there. Father’s metal from Stark and mother twisting minds like they do in Bethe, trying to copy the Artemisian model. You have joined up but you don’t really understand the Artemisian philosophy, the Artemisian mind.’

  General Fallan tapped his head. ‘This mind was woven according to Nyro’s model from good Artemisian wire. Not like yours, Tokvah. You walk as an Artemisian soldier, but you don’t understand what it means. If you did you would realize that Artemis is not a person, it is a philosophy. You seek to take power for yourself, but that is not the Artemisian way. There is no self in Artemis.’

  Kavan waited. And then at last, he spoke.

  ‘I understand that, Fallan,’ he said. ‘The soldiers here understand that. It is you who have forgotten it. This campaign has been badly managed, this army needs better direction. There is no self in Artemis, there is only Artemis itself. And Artemis is changing its thinking on how the army is led.’

  ‘And that leader will be you, I take it?’ said Fallan. Eleanor could see that the General was not afraid. He wouldn’t have risen to the top of the army without learning to fight. The General’s body was the superior, his electromuscles were charging. The sound of the stamping increased in volume. Eleanor readied herself to spring.

  And then there was the crackle of electricity discharging, and General Fallan slumped to the ground. Eleanor looked around curiously. Kavan hadn’t moved. Neither had she. What was going on?

  ‘What happened?’ called Fallan. ‘What happened? Ruth! Tell the men to fire. Kill this man!’

  But Ruth said nothing. To her surprise, Eleanor saw Ruth stepping forward to speak to Kavan, saw her putting her gun back into its holster as she did so.

  ‘Ruth?’ shouted Fallan in indignation. ‘Was it you that shot me?’

  No one was listening to him. Kavan was right, realized Eleanor. Artemis was ready for a change of leader. Only Fallan didn’t seem to realize that yet . . .

  ‘Ruth? What did you do? Have you destroyed my coil? No, you can’t have done, or I wouldn’t be able to see and hear. I can hear the soldiers stamping still. I can hear them celebrating my victory!’

  Kavan was talking to Ruth. She reached up and disengaged her breastplate of colourful whaleskin, pulled it off, exposing the bare machinery beneath, and dropped it to the ground. All around him, the other soldiers were doing the same.

  Fallan shouted at them to stop, but no one listened to him. Instead Eleanor watched, unbelieving, as two of the grey infantry bent down and began to strip his body. Whale metal panelling was unshipped and thrown to the side. Electromuscle was carefully unhooked and laid on the ground as Fallan called out to the men to stop.

  Kavan had taken control of the army. Eleanor looked on as its old leader was disassembled.

  Karel

  Once there were thoughts and there was the world.

  The thoughts lived in the heart of the planet, thinking, and the thoughts did not touch the world and the world did not touch the thoughts.

  But deep in the heart of the planet metal was heated and cooled. Metal ran in silver streams and metal cooled in silver webs, deep in the heart of the planet. Metal formed patterns, and the thoughts moved over those patterns, unknowing. But the metal formed shapes that took on meaning, and so the thoughts gained a window into the world. They saw rocks and the caves lit by the glow of molten metal.

  And so the first eye was born.

  Now the thoughts saw the sky and the sun, the two moons and the sea. And the thoughts thought about what they saw.

  And as the thoughts thought, the metal churned in the caves, and still the metal formed shapes that took on meaning, and another window was pushed into the world, and through it came the sound of the wind and the sea.

  And so the first ear was born.

  Now that the thoughts could see and hear, they began to wonder at the order of things. They saw that day followed night, and that calm followed the storm, and that all hot metal must cool. And the thoughts wondered; must it always be so? Was it possible to change things?

  Must a rock always stand where it had come to rest? And as the thoughts thought, the metal churned in the caves, and the metal formed shapes that took on meaning and the thoughts found they had moved the rock.

  And so the first arm was born.

  And then they sought to move another rock, further away, but they could not reach it. So the thoughts strove to reach that rock.

  And so the first legs were born.

  And they thought of day and night, and warm and cold, and calm and storm, and wondered that everything came in pairs. And so the thoughts built another, like themselves.

  And so the first robots were born.

  Karel smiled at his son as he finished the recitation.

  ‘And that’s where robots come from, Axel.’

  Axel nodded slowly.

  ‘How long ago was that, Dad?’

  ‘We don’t know. Robots didn’t know about time back then.’

  Axel was working on his legs. Lengthening them. The electromuscles he had put in place were too powerful for his young mind. Even if he could move them, they would bend the chassis out of true, but Karel let him continue. It was a mistake that every growing boy made: building a body too big, so that there was insufficient life-force from the mind to power it. That strength of life-force would come eventually as the twisted metal of the child’s developing mind continued to form new connections while it folded itself into shape, but in the meantime it did a child good to learn from his mistakes.

  Karel looked around the family forge and felt a sense of warm satisfaction at what he had achieved. Karel was well paid for his work: in steel, copper and silver of high purity. Even a little gold. He and Susan could afford a good apartment in a good part of town – four decent-sized rooms with a view that looked into Turing State, beyond the city itself, out over the railway station and the galleries and the old town. In clear weather, one could even make out the coast.

  The forge itself was small but hot, and Turing City afforded an excellent purity and variety of metal to work in it. Karel and Susan were built of tungsten and steel, of iron and brass and silver. Thriving on such fine-quality materials, Axel showed prodigious talent, already learning how to bend titanium into shape as he built his little body. Standing in the yellow glow of the forge that squatted in the middle of the stone floor, the room around it lit up in golden-orange, Karel felt at peace. Susan was out buying paint and tasting the world, storing up thoughts to weave into their next child. Axel was building himself into a great boy. All was well. Even the bizarre ravings of Banjo Macrodocious, the Spontaneous robot, could not disturb Karel.

  ‘Daddy?’ Axel paused in the act of fastening an electromuscle that was simply too big to work properly. Karel smiled at the serious look on his son’s face, felt a pang of sympathy at the disappointment he knew he was about to experience.

  ‘Yes, Axel.’

  ‘Daddy, why did you make me this way?’

  Karel smiled.

  ‘Is this about us making you build yourself again? Listen, Axel, Mummy and I want what’s best for you. Not everyone can afford titanium and tungsten. Not everyone owns a forge as hot as this. These are advantages you have had from birth, you didn‘t earn them. But there is something that everyone can have, no matter how rich or poor their parents, and that is self-reliance. That’s what we are giving you Axel. That’s why you’re building yourself.’

  ‘No, Dad, that’s not what I mean.’ Axel gave up forcing the spongy knitted wire of the electromuscle for a moment and fixed his gaze on his father. ‘What I mean is – why am I the way I am? Why did you make me unselfish? Wh
y do I always have to share with other people and take my turn and be part of the team? Why did you and Mum twist my mind that way?’

  Karel didn’t speak for a moment. He came close to his son and crouched down so that their heads were nearly level. There was an asymmetry to Axel’s skull that his son hadn’t noticed, or was beyond his current ability to remove. Or maybe he just didn’t see the point yet. It took the onset of puberty for a robot to realize the importance of a well-built body as an advertisement to the opposite sex. Karel touched his son gently on the hand.

  ‘Axel, what brought this on? Have the other children been talking?’

  ‘Sometimes. But when we’re playing some of the other robots cheat. Or, when we’re picking at the metal scraps in the gangue, some of the others push in and take more than their fair share. Why did you build me so that I couldn’t do that?’

  ‘Because this is Turing City. We look after each other here. Together we are stronger.’

  ‘But other children aren’t made that way.’

  ‘Some other children aren’t made that way,’ Karel allowed.

  ‘But that’s not fair! They get to do what they want and I’m left just standing watching.’

  ‘It may not seem fair at the moment, Axel, but as you get older you’ll find out that those children aren’t lucky at all. They won’t be trusted; they won’t get chosen to join the best teams; nobody will want to spend time with them. Their parents think they are doing them a favour, but really they are not being fair to them at all.’

  Karel was struck by how small his son really was: still just a four-year-old, with a perfectly formed little body. No, not perfectly formed, because children never were, that was just the way that their mothers and fathers saw them, but there was something about him, the way that everything was there, and working in miniature. Something formed out of Karel and Susan. Axel was fiddling with the electromuscle once more, serious again.

  There was something else, though. Karel knew Axel wasn’t telling him the full truth: no mother would ever have twisted their child to be completely predictable. There would always be that last couple of inches, that last little part of the personality that could lie or cheat, if necessary.