Junkers

by Benjamin Wallace

  “That’s not how we learn, Jake.”

  This was going on Savant’s performance review just as soon as Jake instituted performance reviews. “Just tell me how to stop it.”

  “You have to get into the cockpit.”

  “But I just told you the door is locked.”

  “Ugh. It has a window, Jake. But that’s Kat’s department. Here she is.”

  “Jake? You’re going to have to shoot out the window.”

  “Well I certainly feel like shooting something.” He pulled out a large-caliber automatic, another tool of the trade. Bulletproofing any machine was a violation of federal law and had been since the first automated bank robbery. Warranty teams and junkers preferred the more technical takedowns of disruptors, localized EMPs and other tools, but if all else failed, it was sometimes possible to plug a device with bullets until the vital systems failed. It was a last resort.

  The shot blew out the window and Jake stuck his head outside. The wind whipped around his helmet and forced him back into the cabin. He holstered the gun, pulled off the helmet and dropped it to the floor.

  It wasn’t easy climbing to the top of the train. They made it look easy in the movies. A man gritting his teeth against the onslaught of wind slowly climbing hand over hand along a conveniently placed set of rungs. Instead Jake let out a squealing noise that sounded like a little girl that had just found a bug in her hair. He squealed. He wheezed. He found it hard to breathe. He made the mistake of looking into the wind with his mouth open and imagined the face he made didn’t look attractive at all.

  Naturally, all of this happened when the news drones arrived. They stared at him through the black dead eye of a camera and spoke to him through an unseen speaker.

  “Alan Rochmanovich, News 5, I’d like to ask you a few questions. What is your name, sir?”

  Jake could only squeal in response as his cheeks flapped against the wind.

  The train hit a curve and Jake could feel himself being pulled away from the car.

  The drones followed and others moved in front of his face. “Martina Villa-Riaz, Action News 11. What is your plan to stop this train?”

  A bright red drone bumped into the Action News drone and spoke, “Chuck Smith, NewsForce.com. What do you suppose caused this? Do you attribute it to human error or man’s flawed attempt to maintain dominance over its own creation? Our viewers want to know.”

  Jake swatted at the drone but its anti-belligerence programming kicked in and the device moved out of his range.

  Another quickly took its place.

  He was about to swat again when it spoke. “Jake, it’s Hailey. You really shouldn’t be doing that.”

  He turned his head away from the wind and squealed, “I think you’re right.” He pulled himself onto the roof as the train found a straight stretch of track. It still wobbled but he managed to find his footing and move toward the front of the vehicle.

  He looks over the front edge and saw nothing but track. The flat face of the train gave him no shot at the windshield.

  “Jake,” the Hailey drone said, “sit tight. My team is en route. You should see them soon.”

  Jake shrugged and sat. He turned around so the wind was at his back and watched the road beneath the train sweep by. The Beast kept pace. He could see Kat watching him from the passenger window. It wasn’t long before Hailey’s team of machines showed up.

  Then two of ZUMR’s Reclamation Units weaved through traffic, sprinting toward the train. The bots were seven feet tall and powered past the cars on servo-driven legs. They caught up quickly and leapt into the air, clearing the elevated platform and landing on the train a few cars from Jake.

  The news drones swarmed to cover the new arrivals.

  “Stay put, Jake,” Hailey said through the drone. “They can get in there and stop the train.”

  Magnetic feet made it easy for the Reclamation Units to make their way up to the engine. The wind and wobble had no effect on them, and soon they were standing over him. They stopped. And then they did nothing.

  Jake looked at Hailey’s drone. “What are they doing? Why have they stopped?”

  “I’m not sure.” Hailey’s frustration came through the drone’s speaker. “Hold on a second.”

  “Works for me.”

  The two machines loomed over him, motionless. He watched them closely, looking for any sign of movement. But there was nothing. It was like they had gone offline.

  “I… They aren’t responding,” Hailey said.

  The reclamation unit on the left twitched and raised its arm toward Jake. The disruptor barrel pointed at him.

  Jake tensed. “What are they doing, Hailey?”

  “I… I don’t… I can’t…”

  Jake pulled his feet beneath him in a crouch and pulled his gun. “Hailey?”

  “Jake, get off the roof!” Hailey’s voice sent the speaker to static.

  Jake sprang back out over the track as the disruptor fired.

  The arc connected with the metal roof in a brilliant blue stream and spread across the train.

  Jake fell toward the rail below and fired several shots through the windshield.

  Gunfire erupted from the Beast as his teammates opened fire on the machines.

  Jake crashed through the windshield into the cockpit as the train barreled forward. That was the part that really hurt.

  Jake moaned and wobbled as he got to his feet and found his bearing. Gunfire continued outside. There was a BLANG above his head and part of the roof caved in.

  The lights around him exploded as the roof collapsed and shattered the fixtures.

  One of Hailey’s units leapt from the roof into traffic and landed on The Beast. The Travelall swerved as the machine latched onto the roof and marched forward. Glitch leaned out the window, firing repeatedly, trying to hit something vital inside the machine.

  Jake found the manual controls and grabbed the throttle a second before the other reclamation unit swung through the windshield and knocked him back to the floor.

  Jake fired and hit nothing as the machine reached for him.

  The steel hand closed around his throat and lifted him from the ground.

  He seized the arm and pulled himself up so he wouldn’t snap his neck under his own weight. He tore at the machine’s arm, trying to rip anything away that could help him.

  The robot turned and pushed him back through the windshield.

  His feet dangled above the track. All the machine had to do was let go and the train would flatten him. Or squeeze its hand and snap his neck. Or toss him aside and let him fall to the ground. The machine had a lot more options than he did.

  Jake grabbed at the robot’s elbow and pulled away a loose cover. He found a mass of wires underneath and grabbed the thickest wire he could find. He pulled with everything he had left.

  The arm went dead and the disoriented machine backed into the cabin, pulling Jake back inside.

  The machine turned and slammed Jake against the cabin wall.

  Jake shoved the wire into the exposed light fixture and closed his eyes. Sparks erupted from the train. The robot shuddered and froze. The train began to slow as the emergency brakes engaged.

  As the train came to a stop, Jake watched Glitch’s arm grab the other unit’s wrist and pull it from the Travelall’s roof. The machine smashed into the ground and the Beast’s rear end leapt into the air as it crushed the machine beneath its back wheel.

  Jake hung from the robot’s dead arm as The Beast slid to a stop and his team rushed to help him.

  Hailey’s drone found him first. “Jake, what is happening?”

  Jake sighed as the news drones found him and began with their questions.

  8

  Jake did a fair impression of Kat. It wasn’t perfect but it was good enough to get the guys at the shop rolling. It was really less about capturing the right tonality than it was the cadence and nasal quality that she adopted when she was giving someone shit. He wished the guys were around beca
use he was doing a perfect impression now. “You broke it, Jake. You walk it back.”

  The bike’s front wheel was what they would call “screwed” in technical terms. It wasn’t warped enough to prevent it from turning in the fork, but it was warped enough to make walking a straight line damn near impossible. Every ten feet, it turned enough that he was forced to drop it on the sidewalk.

  He must have gone another ten feet because the handlebars twisted out of his hand and the bike dove for the pavement. Jake switched back to his own voice for the cursing.

  He walked around the far side and squatted to lift the bike when a limo pulled up silently behind him. Jake whistled because those things weren’t cheap. Ever since driving had been handed over to the machines, it took a lot to make a car stand out. Performance was legislated so luxury was where manufacturers made their distinctions. Limos were all but obsolete. The only reason to have one anymore was to make sure everyone knew you could.

  The window lowered and a smile beamed at Jake from inside the car. The teeth sparkled and there was a twinkle in the man’s eye. And it wasn’t a cheap twinkle like the one Glitch had installed. This one had cost quite a bit. When the man spoke, the voice sounded like velvet and was clearly the beneficiary of an internal autotune module. “Mr. Ashley. I was wondering if I could have a word with you. My name is Sheldon Donovan.”

  Jake grunted and lifted the bike back onto its wheels. “I know who you are, Mr. Donovan. Or do you think I don’t get the Internet?”

  The man of a thousand streams and a million fortunes smirked. “Fair enough. I’d like to offer you a ride.”

  “Thanks, but…” Jake patted the bike. “I’ve already got a ride.”

  “Please, Mr. Ashley. You’re making everyone sad pushing that relic around in the dark.”

  The limo door opened and a mechanical manservant dressed in a butler uniform stepped from the car. It approached Jake, put its hands on the bike and lifted it like it was nothing more than a ten-speed.

  “Herman will take care of your motorcycle, Mr. Ashley.” Donovan moved over and cleared a space for Jake. “Get in.”

  “Fine.” Jake let go of the bike and nodded to Herman. “Herman, please take it to my shop.”

  Herman acknowledged the command and started off down the sidewalk.

  Jake took a seat in the car and sank into luxury. He sighed and even the air tasted richer.

  The door slid shut behind him and the limo rolled smoothly back into the street.

  Donovan smiled and instructed the video screen to play. It filled with news coverage of the runaway train. “I love your new movie.”

  The cameras pursued the train and caught Jake trying to mount the roof. They zoomed in as Martina Villa-Riaz questioned Jake and Jake squealed his response.

  “That’s enough,” Jake said.

  Donovan paused the footage and smiled. Even in the darkened car his teeth were bright. Possibly OLED. “You’re a bona fide hero, Jake. I wish I had gotten to you sooner.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, I’m sure your price has gone up after today’s events. Yesterday your company was a pants-less laughingstock and today you’re a real hero. You saved those people’s lives. I’m sure you’ll want even more now.”

  Jake shook his head. Too many weird things were happening and he was too tired to process it all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Didn’t your uncle tell you?”

  Jake rolled his eyes as the clues came crashing together. “Of course. You’re the buyer with more money than a whore after Super Bowl Sunday.”

  Sheldon laughed and slapped his knee. “It would appear so.”

  “My shop is not for sale, Mr. Donovan.”

  “But, your uncle…”

  “My uncle doesn’t speak for the company. He hasn’t for quite a while.”

  “He assured me that he did.”

  “He’ll assure you of almost anything if you let him. The trick is to never let him talk. Which is easier said than done.”

  “He told me he started the business with your father.”

  “That’s true. But over the years he’s gambled, traded and drunk it away bit by bit.”

  “To who?”

  “To me.”

  “Then I’ll make you the offer.”

  “Mr. Donovan, you’re the owner of DynoRoboTech.”

  “We just call it DRT now. Haven’t you seen our rebranding campaign?”

  “Dirt?”

  “No. DRT.”

  “It spells dirt.”

  “Dirt has an ‘I’ in it. This is just DRT.”

  “Still, I don’t think your marketing folks thought this one through.”

  “It’s D-R-T, Mr. Ashley!”

  “Hey, it’s your company. Call it whatever you want. You’re still one of the richest men in the world. That you would want to buy Ashley’s Robot Reclamation of Green Hill is rather suspicious, don’t you think?”

  The CEO smiled and pointed to the news feed. “This is why I want to buy, Jake. Imagine: your heroics, my brand. The two of us working together to stop ZUMR malfunctions.”

  “I’ve taken care of your machines, too, Sheldon. Quite a few.”

  “Sure, but if you’re working for me, we’ll stay focused on the competition and let DRT technicians handle our stuff and our press.”

  “I’m not going to be a pawn in some corporate game between you and Jack Fox.”

  “Jake, your company is all but bankrupt. You can’t pay your staff. Even your little bicycle is all busted up. How do you plan on getting by without me?”

  “I’ll take it one step at a time.”

  “But that’s what pawns do, Mr. Ashley.” He smiled broader. “That’s exactly what they do.”

  Jake sighed and looked out the window. They were in his neighborhood. He pointed and said, “Here is fine.”

  The limo slowed to a stop and drifted over to the curb where the door opened.

  Jake stepped out and looked up at his apartment building. It wasn’t much. It was barely something. He imagined Donovan had a much nicer place. And Fox, too. Rich surely had its benefits.

  Donovan leaned out of the car and smiled once more. “There’s nothing wrong with being a pawn, Jake. If you play the game right, a pawn can become royalty.”

  With this he closed the door and the car pulled away.

  9

  Jake opened the door to his apartment and braced for the smell to hit him. It was a mixture of bachelor and cat. He didn’t have a cat.

  He dropped his keys on the kitchen counter and pulled a lighter from one of the drawers to light a candle that promised an aroma of freshly chopped forest woods, a dusty carpenter’s workshop and the deep leather richness of a cobbler’s apron. He had never been through freshly chopped forest woods or sniffed a cobbler’s apron, but he would admit that it smelled a little like a workshop and didn’t smell like cat piss. That was pretty much all he was looking for in a candle. He didn’t entertain much.

  The apartment wasn’t filled with art or decorations. He was certain he had bought a hand towel once but hadn’t seen it in years. There was his couch, his bed and little else to distract him from feeling like his life was in some way a great mistake.

  His back ached, his legs were stiff, there was a ringing in his ear that sounded a lot like the wind on top of a train, and all he wanted was a drink and about twenty hours of sleep.

  Jake dropped three pieces of ice into a short glass, filled the rest with whiskey and sat on the couch.

  The cat screeched as it jumped out of nowhere and landed on his legs with every claw it had. Jake tried to kick it free because every time he tried to pull it off with his hands he ended up with bloody hands.

  The monster was part orange tabby, part black ninja, and was never content to just hang on his leg. It buried its face into his knee and the pain was enough to bring Jake to his feet and spill his drink.

  He grabbed a pillow from the couch
and swung at the demon creature.

  The cat dropped to the floor before the pillow connected and sprang back. It hissed and disappeared to God knows wherever it had come from. There were two rooms in the apartment and little furniture, but Jake had never been able to find the creature’s evil lair.

  He sat back down on the couch and returned to what was left of his drink. He kept the pillow nearby.

  The creature had no name. It wasn’t his. It was in the apartment when Jake moved in. In fact, he was pretty sure it was the cat’s apartment. He knew that’s how the cat saw it even though the landlord denied it.

  Jake had found the previous tenants and asked them about it. They said they never had a cat, but they shook when they denied it and unconsciously rubbed at their shins. When he pressed, they called him a liar and slammed the door in his face.

  Jake rubbed his own shin now and moved to the kitchen to grab something to clean up the drink. He considered buying another hand towel at some point.

  The knock on the door startled him only because he was expecting a second attack from the cat and not a friendly rap at the door. It wasn’t like it to charge once and disappear. It had to be a trick. But, as far as Jake knew, the cat didn’t have the ability to knock and would never bother with such manners if it did.

  Herman stood on the other side of the door with the wrecked motorcycle in his mechanical hands.

  “Oh, you moron,” Jake said. “I said take it to my shop. You weren’t supposed to bring it here.”

  The machine did not respond.

  “It doesn’t go here.” Jake pointed at a trail of oil down the hallway. “Look at that.”

  The machine looked at the trail.

  “You’re making a mess of the… bring it inside before you get me evicted.”

  Herman stepped forward and the bike hit the doorframe on either side, hacking large pieces of wood onto the floor.

  “You’re useless,” Jake said.

  The machine backed up, turned sideways and shuffled through the door. It crossed the room and set the bike down in front of the couch.

  “Don’t put it there. I sit there.”