Loss and Sacrifice

by Andrew Day

mountains in the east. “That way.”

  “Nice. I like the mountains. Wouldn’t go there myself, though. Too steep. I prefer level ground.”

  “Me too.”

  “Must have been nice, though.”

  “Quite nice.”

  “You seemed to have travelled quite a bit,” Cor noted. “You seemed quite... well, weathered. No offense.”

  “None taken. I have travelled quite far across the world.”

  “And seen quite a lot, I’d imagine.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is the rest of the world as nice as this.”

  “Some parts. Others are not as nice. Some are better.”

  Cor gave an bemused whistle. “Better than this? Never.”

  “No really. Whereabouts is this anyway? Am I in Raimia yet?”

  “Raimia?” Cor laughed. “Another human name.”

  “What do you call it?”

  “Dirtland. Though I think I may have heard some human at some point call it Raimia. Raimia...” Cor chuckled at the absurdity of it.

  “Are there any human settlements around here?”

  “Not here. But over that way,” Cor pointed South west, “there are quite a lot of humans. Buildings, farmers, that sort of thing.”

  “A lot of buildings?”

  “We-ell,” Cor said in thought. “Quite a lot by today’s standards, but I’ve seen more.”

  “What are the people there like?”

  “Like humans. What do you mean?”

  “Are they advanced? Do they accept strangers?” Lawless asked.

  “I wouldn’t know. I try to avoid the place. Humans aren’t the most encouraging of people. They’d sooner stick me than talk to me. And the last thing I need at the moment is to be cut up, cooked, and served with a side of lettuce.”

  “I understand.”

  “You don’t want to go there. Much nicer out here. Less humans.”

  Lawless nodded. Out here in Raimia, it wasn’t expecting any form of civility, especially not to robots. But its batteries needed replacing, and its knee joints. And more or less every other part of its body.

  “I would not normally,” said the robot. “But I am in need of repairs before I continue on my way. Is there any where else?”

  “Not in the way you’re thinking,” replied Cor. “Apart from the human place, there’s a mutant camp a fair distance thataway.” He gestured vaguely to the north with his trunk.

  “What sort of mutants?”

  “The mutated kind,” Cor said, as though that were obvious. “You know, should be human, but not. That sort of thing. They stay in their own places, and the humans stay in theirs. I don’t think they get along. Not surprising really. Mutants are much nicer than humans. One came down here once, a while ago. Not a bad chap. More conversational than most. And he didn’t try to eat me, which is always a plus. Respected me as a sniffler, rather than a source of food, which is more than most humans have ever done... Whereabouts are you headed anyway?”

  “Nowhere,” Lawless said simply.

  Cor waited for it to elaborate. When the robot remained silent, he said, “I used to like travelling in my youth. But eventually, time comes when you’ve got to settle down, start a litter. And the wife was nagging me you see. I guess you don’t have a wife or family. No little metal cubs running about?”

  “No.”

  “Not possible, really is it? Not unless you have all the... you know. Bits. Underneath all that metal. Uh, this is going to sound like a stupid question, but I don’t suppose you have anything to eat? Obviously, with all the cables evident you don’t actually need any sustenance in the way of food, but...”

  “My bag,” Lawless nodded to the spot where he left his rucksack.

  Cor brought the frayed bag to Lawless, carrying it with his trunk. The robot rummage about, and removed an old aluminium can devoid of any label. It kept any such foodstuffs that it found for trade, since it did not need any for itself. In some parts of the world, food was worth its weight in gold, and Lawless had collected quite a supply.

  With such an excessive power supply present, Lawless casually used a small amount to charge the tiny laser in its forearm and cut open the unidentifiable can. Inside was perfectly preserved salted meat. Lawless poured the contents onto a spare sheet of metal it found in its pack and placed it before its companion.

  Under his trunk, Cor smiled brightly. “Thanks. You really are too kind.” He picked up a piece of meat with his trunk and wolfed it down hungrily. “Not bad,” Cor said with his mouth full. “Sure you don’t want some?”

  “No thank you.”

  “You know I can’t actually repay you for this.”

  “You have helped me enough as it is. I do not ask anything in return.”

  “Aw, it was nothing,” said Cor, not exactly sure how he had helped.

  The sun had long since set, and the stars had come out. As they wheeled overhead in the sky, the robot and the talking animal sat by the now slowly turning windmill and talked. They talked idly about the area around them, about humans and mutants. Eventually, Cor convinced the robot to regale him with stories of his travels, and though much of its life was forgotten, or at least hazy, it gave in.

  Lawless told Cor of what little of its life it could still accurately recall. Mostly it told him about its trek through the forests on the other side of the mountains, where the trees were giants that blocked out the sky, and the animals were a mixture of mutants and normals that happily coexisted. It told him of his journey over the mountain, and into the land of Ramia. Even though the robot recounted its tale in a most uninteresting and mechanical tone, even in the most exciting moments, such as when it had been attacked by a pack of savage dog mutants in the forests at night, or when, while crossing the mountains, the ground had given way and the robot had ended up clinging by its fingertips to the rocky ledge several hundred above the ground, Cor did not lose interest for a moment. Not even when the robot went into a lengthy description of how it had acquired its walking staff - picking the right length of branch and whittling it down - the sniffler never turned away or lost concentration.

  As the night drew on, the robot even took out its old and broken holo-projector, and showed Cor images from its memory of the world it had seen. Cor breathed in awe at the sight of majestic redwoods that reached up to the heavens, and of the glorious expanse of Raimia as it was seen from the peak of the mountains. A few older images found their way to the surface of the robot’s memory: Images of long empty beaches with blinding white sand washed upon by clear, blue water, and of immense sand dunes in a desert of unfathomable size on the other side of the planet. Images of cities, ruined and broken, half swallowed by seas or covered in green forests.

  Later, as the robot searched its memory and dragged out half corrupted images, the sniffler saw bits and pieces of those same cities as they were long before he had ever been born, with buildings towering high in the sky, glittering like jewelled mountains, and humans, thousands of humans everywhere. And then there were the images of other robots, some similar to Lawless itself, others taking all manner of shapes and sizes, all of them whole and unbroken, not yet worn out and dying from the passage of time. And there were humans, smiling, laughing beneath artefacts from the robot’s slowly corrupting long term memory.

  Lawless thought that maybe, once long ago, it had known these people, and all these strange places. But that was before the world had changed, and long before it had started its journey. Now they were fractured images, mere pulses of electrons through weary electronic synapses, nameless and unmourned.

  By the time the robot had finished talking, the stars were fading, and the first rays of sunlight were beginning to crest the range of mountains. For the first time since they had met, Cor was speechless.

  “Wow,” Cor said finally. “That’s quite... Wow.”

  Lawless was silent as he packed away his belongings. He batteries were once again fully charged, and now it was time for him to go on his way. />
  “Going then, are you?” Cor asked, with slight sadness.

  “I should conclude my business with the humans as soon as possible.”

  “And after that?”

  “I shall continue on my way.”

  “Where to?”

  Lawless looked around. “I do not know.” It looked to the west. “Possibly... that way.”

  “I suppose there are worse ways to go.” Cor looked about him, yawned and blinked his eyes. “Well, would you look at that. It’s day already. Well, I’m going to be in a right mess when I get back. My wife’s going to have a fit. She’d be worried sick. Well, that’s just like me isn’t it. Yabbering on and on like a... well like me. Sorry to have caused any annoyance.”

  “You were not. It was nice to have company,” Lawless replied truthfully.

  “Really?”

  “I never say anything I do not mean.” It handed Cor another can of food.

  “No I couldn’t,” Cor said, taking the can.

  “I do not need it. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “Aw, think nothing of it. Take care now, Lawless. Especially around those humans.”

  “I will.”

  “And if your ever in the neighbourhood,” Cor called back as he ambled away, his trunk wrapped around the can. “Don’t be a stranger now.”

  “I won’t,” said Lawless, even though the chances were it would never cross through the area again. “Take care.”

  The robot glanced down to adjust the straps of its pack, and when it next looked up, there was no sign of the animal. If it were not for the open can, devoid of its contents, lying on the ground, the robot might have