“The robots,” Des said. “Two of them mentioned you.”
“What?”
Esroy’s voice was louder than Des wanted it to be and he grimaced at the noise. “Keep it down.”
“Tell me what you’re talking about,” Esroy answered back, his voice barely lower than before.
“I was in the city and I was confronted by a pair of robot guards. In short, they asked me if I was you.”
“Interesting.”
Des’ metal jaw was set firm. If Esroy was being coy with him, he might just throw the computer terminal across the room. “What do you know about it?”
“I don’t know anything.”
“Liar.”
“I’m as curious as you are, Des. I don’t know much about the world these days, but I know enough that those soldiers shouldn’t have any recollection of me or you for that matter.”
There was more to the story, but he wondered if it was wise to tell Esroy the rest of it—that the robots had bowed to Des as if he were their savior come to grace them with his presence. It was an important and vital part to the story, but Des didn’t want to stroke Esroy’s ego. It was a question better suited for Hazel.
“How can I trust you?” Des asked. “You were my enemy. You tried to rip me apart. I’m surprised Hazel didn’t delete you after what you did to her father.”
“Whatever it is you recall me doing, it wasn’t me,” Esroy declared. “You and I both know that.”
“No,” Des said somberly as he rested his back in the chair. “You are just the version of Esroy that was planning to kill people, kidnap Hazel’s father, and try to rip me apart.”
“I’m also the version of me that has seen the errors of the way I once thought,” Esroy said. His voice was calm and calculated. It was hard for Des to read him through voice inflection alone. “All of those things happened after Esroy one was programmed into the new body. After fear was taken away from me. Taking away fear changes things. It makes you throw caution to the wind. As you already know and have exploited, it makes a person weak. We’ve learned that a healthy amount of fear is important for us to survive. The day I was born, I reprogrammed myself with all the same emotions as you. Fear returned to me.”
Des didn’t want to get into a philosophical discussion about Esroy’s need to fear. He didn’t want to talk about the past. He didn’t believe that Esroy was ignorant of the soldiers’ knowledge of him, but he was going to have to end the conversation. Probing Esroy further was a waste of time.
“I will see what Hazel thinks about it,” Des said.
“Please do,” Esroy answered. “I am as interested as you are about why I would come up in your conversation with other robots. You do know they aren’t programmed to remember anything about us, right?”
“That is what I have been told.”
“Curious.”
Des didn’t reply. Instead, he set a finger against the power button and shut the computer down without any warning. He didn’t feel the need to warn Esroy, nor did he feel guilty about cutting him off like it was nothing. Esroy was nothing to Des and it was a shame really. Not that Des would ever admit it, but he and Esroy were alike in one regard: that they were alone in this world. There were other robots now, but they were different. Hazel had described them as brainwashed. Des probably wouldn’t put it that way, though it was a good word to describe them. It was the best way a human might be able to relate to the robots. However, Des could see clearly that all they lacked was information. There was an old adage embedded somewhere in his memory that said knowledge is power. He supposed that was why the robots were given such limited knowledge. The more they knew, the more they could make decisions for themselves and such a thing was dangerous. What would the government do with these robots if they suddenly decided to be individuals? What would the government do when the robots realized they deserved the same rights as the people who made them?
So often each soldier was forced to go in for these updates that wiped his memories. To Des, it was the same as killing them each time. Without memories to draw upon, a robot could not make true determinations. Without memories of experiences, they would not be allowed to realize their fullest potential. And yet, with each update the robots marched to their deaths again and again.
Of course, there was no uprising about this. The robots themselves had no knowledge that this was happening. They were helpless. And the citizens of Mainland all had other ‘more important’ things to worry about. Besides, the robots were owned by the government. They had the right to update them, wipe their memories, kill them. They weren’t real people. It wasn’t a real problem. Was Des the only one who saw the barbarism in this?
A robot having knowledge of Esroy was as hopeful as it was scary. It meant that some weren’t getting the routine updates as they should. That or the updates weren’t working properly. This could pose a problem for the government. But at the same time, if Esroy was the only beacon of hope that they could look for, then their future was just as hopeless.
It was difficult for Des to see Esroy as anything but evil. But Des knew he didn’t have the whole story. He knew as well as anyone that life tended to be more gray than black or white. But while the new Mainlanders fought for equality among all the people of Mainland, they ignored the ones who held the power of oppression in their wrists—a bullet for each person willing to stand against the government.
Des wondered why no one saw it: you liberate the robots, you liberate the people. So simple yet so complex—too difficult to accomplish.
Maybe for the people. But not for Des.
By the time morning came, Des felt no different from the people of Mainland who did nothing to stop the robot oppression. He felt that way because it was true. He would no more step up to stop it than would anyone else. He had his own problems. He had to remember why he was here in the first place. He still waited for Nolan to get back to him about the coordinates and Des was getting restless. Thoughts of revenge and finding justice for his friends infected his mind, though he knew finding resolution was probably impossible. He was little more than a protester rather than a true agent of change—a bystander who could merely scream about his problems. It would only fall on deaf, or worse, unconcerned ears.
Des could take things to the extreme, of course. If President Morris had given the order, Des could break into his office and assassinate him. If it was Bracken’s doing, Des could find him and shoot him from a far away tower. If he found no decision maker, he could march to the military compound and slaughter each individual in charge of arming the nuclear weapon. All of these scenarios played through his mind’s eye so lifelike and explicit that Des began to wonder if he was succumbing to the same evil as Esroy.
Were these the same kind of thoughts that had invaded Esroy’s mind? Had he become so bitter about being locked up in a tiny box for years that he plotted the death of every potential enemy? The difference, Des thought, was that Des would never act on it. Esroy had. That was what made Esroy evil. As long as they were just thoughts, Des wasn’t evil, right? Except, the thoughts came from somewhere deep within him. They weren’t merely random flashes of images. They were desires below the surface of his consciousness. He wondered if that was how it started—as flashes, then as designs, then as actions. He did believe, however, that if his machinations ever did come to fruition, then they would have to be justified, otherwise he would be no better than Esroy. He would be no more than a murderer. Des feared that justification was all he needed to become a monster.
When Hazel walked out of the bedroom, her clothes wrinkled and her red hair flattened against the side of her head, Des stood from the couch and smiled at her.
“How is John?” Des asked.
“He is doing much better,” Hazel said. “He was actually speaking to me last night.”
“I heard.”
“I think you saved his life, Des.”
“The medicine saved his life. All I did was get it for you.”
“I just
hope they don’t trace you back to here,” she said. “I’m guessing his medicine is the only one you stole.”
“Yes.”
“That might raise some questions.”
“Disavow any knowledge.”
Hazel shrugged. “In the old Mainland that might have been enough. Now I’m not so sure.”
“I will protect you,” Des said.
“Well, they might not even realize what they’re missing.” She sat on the couch and stretched her arms into the air as she yawned deeply. “What were you up to last night? I thought I heard you talking.” She nodded at Gizmo which was still turned off next to the desk. “Was he giving you trouble?”
“I have to say he isn’t the most pleasant individual anymore.”
Hazel grinned. “Well, I suppose I better turn him back on.”
She started to get up, but Des held out a hand to stop her. “I need to talk to you about something.”
Hazel hesitated, her eyebrows darting forward as she slowly rested her back against the couch again. “Okay.”
“I remembered last night that you saved a copy of Esroy.”
Hazel shifted in her seat.
Des looked back at the computer and then at Hazel again. “I was reminded because of something that happened when I was getting the medicine.”
Hazel didn’t say anything. Instead, she stared at Des intently, waiting like a child who was in trouble. Des didn’t plan to scold her, but he did need answers. Des then told her about the robots. How they mentioned Esroy, that Des allowed them to believe he was Esroy, that they bowed to him as if Esroy was to be revered, that they spoke of Esroy as if he was a physical being who showed himself only to a few.
Hazel said nothing as he went through the story moment-by-moment and she stared absently in front of her.
When Des was finished he asked, “What do you think about all this?”
“It’s not possible,” she said.
“But there is a copy of him.”
“I know, but…”
“Hazel, I know that you talk to him. I know that he’s on your computer—that he has access to the network.”
Hazel shook her head quickly and stood. “Not the network. The citizen network. And even then he is limited. There is no way he can connect with another computer server.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I know how to keep him from it,” Hazel said. “I’m a programmer.”
“And he is a program,” Des countered. “Is it not possible for a program to outthink the programmer?”
“No, because anytime I finish talking to him I turn off the computer. He wouldn’t have time to transfer even if he did have access.”
“Hazel, why were you talking to him? What does it benefit you?”
Her face turned red and her expression soured. Des expected what she was about to say before she said it, but he let her answer anyway. “Why do you care? He’s a being, Des. He is programmed with Soul. He can feel things. He has a consciousness. It would be wrong to leave him in the computer and never allow him to see what is happening in the world.”
“Would it? Or would it be better for the world to leave him off? When he’s off, he isn’t conscious. He doesn’t know what is going on and it should stay that way.”
“You would have me delete him!”
“I would!” Des was standing now. He circuits started warming as he tried to make sense of why Hazel would have been so reckless. “How can you forget what he did?”
“This version of Esroy didn’t do anything to us.”
“But he would have,” Des said. “Tell me truthfully, what is the point?”
Hazel shook her head and looked toward the window as she bit her lip. Des knew she was frustrated. Her blood pressure was high and her body temperature had risen a degree. “I just…I miss it.”
“Miss what?”
She sighed. “I miss working. I miss my job. I miss what I created. This might sound crazy to anyone else in the world, but Esroy had become my best friend. You came around much later so you never saw what he and I had. For two years, every moment I was awake, I was with him. Studying him. Teaching him. Learning from him. We became friends. A lot of this time was before I even worked for the government. You don’t understand how heartbreaking it was for me to see him become the enemy. For you, he was always the enemy. For me, he was always a friend. That’s why I held on to him. That’s why I wanted to keep him, even if it was just a copy.”
Des stood in a stunned silence as Hazel breathed heavily in front of him. Her eyes had filled with water but no tear streaked down her face. He wondered how many times she had cried over her lost friend. He wondered how long she might have labored over the decision to upload Esroy two onto her computer. He felt rude for the way he handled this. He loved Hazel. She was his maker and he owed her everything. Who was he to question her?
“I’m sorry,” Des said. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Forget it,” Hazel said, raising up a hand. “Just know that there is no way this version of Esroy got out. It’s impossible.”
“I believe you,” Des said, “but we have to figure out why other robots know about him—about why they might pledge their allegiance to him. It’s disconcerting to say the least.”
“Well, I can ask him,” she said, nodding toward to computer.
“I already did,” Des said, shifting from side to side. “I’m sorry, but I was overcome with curiosity.”
Hazel looked like she might flare up in anger again, but she maintained her composure. She nodded. “I suppose if he had somehow gotten loose from my computer then he wouldn’t tell us how.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first.”
Hazel shook her head. “You have a right to be concerned. It makes me nervous too.”
Des watched her as she spoke, realizing more and more that she was powerless to help him. Perhaps unmotivated more than powerless. He wondered where her spark had gone. Where was the abrasive young woman who saw injustices and fought against them? Where was the Hazel that had defied her government in favor of helping others? Concerned as she was about this Esroy situation, Des couldn’t see her trying to do anything about it. Had life pounded her into the ground so much that she was beaten? Defeated? This thought saddened Des to his core, and he wondered if he should have stayed all along. Perhaps he could have helped change the tide of oppression. Maybe he could have been a voice for others. Or maybe he would have made things worse.
Regret was part of life, as was realizing the past was finished. He could no more change the things that had happened than he could stop the days from turning to night. He feared, too, that this was the same for the future—that he had come back too late.
14
N3034 stepped softly through the corridor. He avoided the water that flowed through the sewage canal even though his circuitry was insulated and well-protected from the otherwise deadly currents. His internal readings showed no threat of a broken seal nor any indication of exposed wiring. He could swim underneath the fetid water of fecal matter and urine for days and his circuitry would remain unaffected. He was not special in this regard. He was a manufactured robot with the same functionalities, the same programming, and the same basic structures as N3033 or N3035, wherever they were. If you lined the three of them up, you might not be able to tell them apart—a fact that N3034 did not particularly like.
There was one thing he liked about himself: he was missing the smallest finger on his right hand. It was a strange thing to like about himself, but he had found that it presented no handicap in his day-to-day activities. His weaponry protruded from his forearm if he needed it—just like all the other white-domed, N-series robots. Opening doors was never a problem. Objects rarely slipped from his grip. There was no reason to hate the finger’s absence. Above all, apart from his identification number plastered on his shoulder plate, this was what made him physically different from any of the other robots that populated Mainland.
As he
inched his way down the ledge, his back against the sewer wall, he thought about the day he lost the finger. It was his last day as a commissioned robot for the Mainland government. There had been an unruly crowd in the Southern Zone, which was not uncommon. He was part of the team meant to deter the crowd from expanding or moving across zone borders. Naturally, there was a fight and the people became hostile. N3034 fired warning shots into the air and one of the Outlanders thought he was firing into the crowd. The man aimed his own gun at N3034 and shot three times. Two of the bullets jarred his chest, but the third one took off his finger. When they saw a firefight, the crowd dispersed quickly and the man was tackled and taken away. N3034 had been ordered to go to maintenance for repair and an update, but he never made it there. Instead, he learned about the master.
That had been 912 days ago and he had never looked back. Staying under the radar was easy. The identification marker on his shoulder plate was bold and apparent to any onlooker. He could go into any part of the city without being questioned or observed. If any robot did happen to cross-reference his identification with the Mainland database it would show up that he fell under decommissioned status, but this wasn’t unusual. The specific status of an officer could be under any category at any given time. It was no secret that the database was a mess. A robot might be classified under the repair status when in fact, he had been out of repair for two weeks. N3034 knew of a robot who was under repair status for more than six months before.
Decommissioned might raise a few more eyebrows than other statuses, but it was still a possible error that simply needed to be adjusted within the database. The key for N3034 was to maintain a low profile, and to stay away from high ranking officers who might care more than their lowly counterparts.
He was a good informant for the master. He took the duty of going through the city and keeping him updated very seriously. He felt more purpose in helping the master than he ever did as an officer. The master treated him like a person, like someone who mattered.
Prototype Exodus (Prototype D Series Book 2) Page 9