Gen One

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Gen One Page 8

by Amy Bartelloni


  “I think we have a new plan.” She turned back with as much of a smile as she could muster. “Right there? That woman unloading.” She pointed to a short, blonde-haired woman holding a box. Only she wasn’t a woman. She was a first generation bot.

  “She’s a friend,” Delilah said simply. She couldn’t catch Gen’s eye. It was too risky, and they were too far away. But she knew for sure, if Gen was there, the bot was on her side. But what had Gen gotten into, and why hadn’t she been aware of it all along?

  For a few seconds, Delilah and Brute were visible to the bots when they dashed to the old store where the uniforms were stored, but luck was on their side when the moon slipped behind a cloud, allowing them to pass unseen. The door to the general store was open, and Brute ushered them in before they could be spotted. The building had obviously been abandoned. What use did bots have for stores? Long forgotten items gathered dust behind glass cases. Beautiful cameos, combs made of whalebones, as well as other, more useful items.

  Delilah held up a can of ham. “Do you think this is still good?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t risk it.” Brute shouldered on a jumpsuit behind the counter. He threw hers over the counter, and she ducked into a corner to put it on.

  “What do you know about the first gen bots?” Brute asked, raising his voice as much as he dared.

  “Well.” She left her clothes in a pile, and she had to admit she wasn’t unhappy to see them go. They stank from the river and were covered in mud. Even the dark green prison jumpsuit was a step up. She zipped it while she spoke. “I know they’re not connected to the network. They’re AI. So they think for themselves.”

  “Yeah.” Brute came out from behind the counter. His jumpsuit fit snugly, but then, anything would on him. He took her clothes, made a face, and threw them in a pile. “That’s why they were discontinued. Some of them started to think on their own. The hive mind started in gen three.”

  “And the control.”

  “Yeah.” He looked out the window at the dark street. The docks were only a block away. Spotlights shone on the pavement, but the wall blocked their view around the corner. “What about this bot of yours? What do you think she’s doing here?”

  Delilah joined him at the window and pushed a ratty curtain aside. She guessed it was well past midnight, and the hopes of saving Zane and getting back for her job in the morning were fading. Her hopes of even living through the night were not high.

  “She’s loyal,” Delilah answered, crossing her arms. “She’s not with them, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “No.” Brute dropped the corner of the curtain. “I wasn’t. Or she wouldn’t be in prison clothes.” His voice still betrayed his skepticism though.

  “What, then?” she asked, tucking her hair back in a low bun to match the other prisoners. “Gen has lived with me for the better part of two years. I know her.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” Brute paused. “But you didn’t know this.”

  Delilah’s shoulders fell. She’d somehow missed Zane joining a human resistance. It had been so easy to chalk his absences up to girls or partying, but all along he was working for a cause. But Gen? Delilah didn’t think she was capable of deception. When they’d liberated the bot, Delilah had to teach her all about human life. Gen took to it like, well…like a child. She’d made friends in the human zone, and Delilah had become fond of Gen’s idiosyncrasies. No, Delilah shook her head. Gen would never sell them out.

  “She’s doing it for a reason,” Delilah thought out loud. The moon came out from under the cloud’s shadow and lit up the room in a low light. Delilah paced, wasting precious moments. But there was something in the bot’s motivation, and Brute had to understand he could trust her. “She has a strong sense of injustice,” Delilah reached for an explanation. “And she’s loyal, to a fault. She’s fascinated by the smallest things. Flowers. A shooting star. Love.” Delilah hadn’t realized she’d been crying until she dropped a tear. She didn’t bother wiping it away. “She can love, Brute, I’m sure of it.”

  “I understand,” he said. Talk of the bots more human characteristics bordered on treason, for many reasons. The Authority wanted to appear greater than humankind, and they considered the Gen One bots failures. Delilah had heard whispers of a Gen One coalition. Gen had been meeting some of them, but she didn’t know why. She mentioned it to Brute.

  “Yeah.” He looked away. “We’ve heard that, too. Some of them approached us to work together.”

  “And?” She paused by the door.

  He shrugged. “We haven’t had time. It’s hard to get messages through. In fact…” He rubbed his chin. “In fact, Tank and Spade were supposed to take the message to them.”

  The names sounded familiar. “Tank and Spade?” she asked.

  He pursed his lips. “The ones killed at the Banks. Someone knows. Your friend could be in danger.”

  She put her hand on the doorknob and turned the handle. “Then we have no time to waste.”

  Brute squared his shoulders. “Follow my lead,” he said. “And remember, we blend in. Do you remember how to shut the scrambler off?”

  “I pull the disk.” Delilah twirled the ring on her finger. “Got it.” She opened the door and stepped out in the alley. Low murmurs from the human prisoners carried up the hill, and the metallic smell reminded her of the man who was vaporized. “Do you think they took Zane here?” she asked.

  Brute frowned. “We better hope so,” he said. “Come on.”

  She’d replaced her ratty boots with a new pair from the store, which she’d laced up a bit too tight. At least it had the effect of muting their footsteps, but they made Delilah’s feet heavy and clumsy, and she stumbled a couple times until she got used to them.

  Her pulse raced as they reached the end of the closest warehouse. “I don’t see him,” she whispered. She tried to examine all the prisoners, but there were too many.

  “Right now our objective is to find out what they’re doing and get out of here to regroup.” Brute clenched his teeth.

  “And we’re going to do that by joining a group of prisoners?” She raised her voice, but he didn’t seem particularly bothered.

  “We’re not on their roster. And here.” He handed her another small disk. “Put it in your back teeth. Press on it to activate.”

  “And when should I do that?” she asked, pressing the disk in and running over it with her tongue. He smiled, the same way Zane did, with one side of his lip turned up to indicate they were about to do something they shouldn’t.

  “You’ll know,” he told her. Despite everything, she trusted him. What choice did she have? She still hoped they’d find a way to escape, she’d go to work and catch up with Zane the next night, tired, and worse for wear after a night in a cell. That’s what usually happened. She’d seen the inside of a couple of those cells, herself. Never mind this was so much worse.

  “Now.” Brute interrupted her thoughts. The two giant bots had gone back to the ship to help unload a particularly unwieldy box. Brute power walked until he was in line with the prisoners to go back to the cargo ship. They opened up a space for the two of them, only one or two giving them a questioning glance. The rest looked too tired to care. Limp hair, arms hanging, and bags under their eyes was the standard uniform. Delilah found it wasn’t hard to assume the posture. It was late and cold. The prison uniforms were flimsy. She was scared and tired. Terrified, really. She forced herself to look down, twisting her ring.

  She’d been in boats before. The ones she cleaned were anchored between the Banks and the industrial zone, but they stayed in place, at least while she was working on them. The only open water she’d been on was the little dinghies she and Zane took across the river when no one was looking, usually at a high cost. It brought back memories of Zane, and how he said he was going to buy his own boat and shuffle people across. He’d be a millionaire, he sai
d, and she’d told him he was courting trouble. He always courted trouble, she thought with a frown. Only this time, it was much more.

  The dock shook as she stepped on it and she tried not to stumble.

  “Careful,” Brute mumbled behind her. One of the giant bots stomped right past them, a large box in its arms. Delilah couldn’t help but notice the stamp on the side. “Property of the Authority. Gen Z.” She held her breath. The newest gen bots. But why were they unloading here, under the cover of night? Usually the Authority paraded the new bots out in the street, for the humans to sufficiently cower. It didn’t make sense.

  Once they walked on the ship, they entered a large, lower area that was wide and open. Smaller boxes were lined up in a cargo bay. “These new models are going to kill us all,” a short, dark skinned, older woman with gray hair in front of her mumbled. The woman heaved when she picked up boxes, piling one on top of another. It took everything in Delilah not to help her. The woman turned to march out. “Mark my word,” she said. “There are weapons in these boxes we’ve never dreamed of.”

  “Quiet,” Brute told her, as the other giant bot came out from the dregs of the ship, another large box in its hand. The woman dragged her feet until Delilah grabbed two boxes and walked behind her.

  “Why now?” Delilah asked, more to herself. “They’ve already won.” She didn’t think the woman could hear, but she slowed down so Delilah was right behind her.

  “Dear child.” The woman paused and shifted the weight of the boxes from one arm to another as the gangway wobbled under their feet. The lines on the woman’s face told of a tough life, but then again, they all had tough lives. At least hers had been long. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “They won’t stop until they’ve killed us all.”

  Brute moved Delilah along before the bots caught them talking, and she made her way up the gangplank toward the warehouse. She stayed in line with the other prisoners while the dirty river water lapped the pier. There were so many downtrodden souls she couldn’t count them all. She hadn’t seen Gen or the others in the crowd yet, but besides the light of the moon, only a few spotlights broke up the darkness. She hoped Smoke had gotten away, but that didn’t seem like Smoke. If there were information to be gathered, and a plan had already been hatched, the General was here somewhere.

  One giant bot had disappeared into the warehouse. Delilah had always wondered about them. Occasionally the big models would parade through the town searching for a prisoner, cutting people down or just generally scaring the populous with their assumed strength. She’d seen them on occasion in the Banks, though Rank didn’t like to scare his customers any more than necessary. Any time someone there spotted a giant bot, attendance in the market dropped for days after. She looked up through her lashes as one of the giant bots walked past them into the warehouse. Its footsteps shook the pavement under their feet. She knew the bots’ capabilities had been limited in the war, when the humans destroyed much of their technology, at least according to stories. The bots walled themselves up in their cities to rebuild, emerging to “keep the peace,” which really mean to keep the humans in line, in accordance with the peace accords. Peace accords which were nothing but trash according to Zane, a subject he expanded on in his more revolutionary moments.

  She shifted the weight of the box in her arms and entered the warehouse through a delivery bay following the line of prisoners. It took Delilah a minute to adjust to the even lower light inside. The moon didn’t filter in, and there were no windows. Just two lamps high above which pooled light down selfishly, though she heard activity all around: shuffles, scrapes, and low conversation, even arguments.

  The woman in front of her looked her over and nodded ahead. “That long table there,” she told Delilah. “They check the boxes in and examine the contents.” Her thin arms struggled with the weight of box, and the lines in her face deepened when she grimaced. A crown of white hair framed her head, but as to how old she was, Delilah couldn’t guess.

  Delilah cleared her throat. “I know,” she bluffed.

  The woman eyed her. “Sure you do,” she said. “Just stay behind me and don’t stand out.”

  The line slowed down. At least ten people sat behind the long table taking the boxes, and even more sorted the open cargo onto rows and rows of high shelves behind them. Delilah stood on her tip-toes, but too many people were in front of her. She couldn’t see what was on the table, but the odor was unmistakable. Metallic, almost sour. The smell of human labor. Factories. The remains of humans after they’d been vaporized. Even a hint of gunpowder. Delilah trod carefully, but it was impossible to tell whether plain dirt or human remains covered the gritty floor. Her instincts told her a mix.

  “Next.” The woman in front of her took a step forward toward the closest open line, hesitated, then risked a turn to Delilah. There wasn’t time for much, but a range of emotions played out on her face.

  “This war has been playing out since before you were even born,” she told Delilah in a soft voice. The words spilled out quickly, forcing Delilah to memorize them to consider later. “And likely will be after you’re gone. If you have a chance, fight them.” Delilah would have reached out, if both her hands weren’t necessary to hold the heavy weight of the boxes that might hold the instruments of their doom, if the woman was correct. “It’s worth the time in jail. In the zoos. Doing what’s right is always worth it. Freedom is worth it.”

  “Next!” Another lane had opened, but the woman didn’t step forward.

  “I’m Rita,” she told Delilah. “Maybe we’ll see each other around.”

  Delilah didn’t have time to wonder what the statement meant, and if the woman was crazy. The person waiting for Rita frowned. Apparently, the bots did not tolerate laziness. Delilah did a double step toward the next open line, giving Brute what she hoped was a reassuring look, but really covered the most terror she’d felt in her life.

  She wasn’t sure what to say when she heaved the boxes on the table, but it turned out she didn’t have to say anything. The young girl behind the table scanned the barcodes. She turned to the person behind her.

  “Sectors A and K,” she said in a monotone. She ripped open the top box, glanced at the inside, then shifted over so the person behind her could take it. Delilah got a glimpse at pipes and gears, more of that metallic smell, and her stomach fell. It seemed like the makings of the pipe bombs she’d seen in the Rez when things had been particularly bad. She shifted on her feet and looked behind her, but there were no bots inside. Two people down from her, Brute caught her eye with a frown.

  Delilah contemplated what to say. She only had a few precious seconds as the girl tore into the second box, but all the words she was going to say dropped off as she saw inside. Even the worry about Zane and Smoke fell away when she stared at the giant, sleek bot head inside.

  “Lucky you,” the girl mumbled, checking a box off. “You found the grand prize.”

  Delilah peeked in the box. “What is it?” she whispered.

  The earlier generation bots, like Gen, had what looked like human skin and anatomy, to the point where they were almost indistinguishable. After the war, due to the destruction of technology and perhaps a general aversion to humans, the bots design became more functional, like the ones outside, and also attached to a main matrix which did their thinking. Functional and terrifying. The head inside the box appeared like a human head, and except for the wires coming out of its neck it could be asleep. Its creamy skin was unflawed and unnerving. The bots were modeling themselves after humans again.

  The girl’s eyes widened as she looked up at Delilah. She glanced at the door, but the giant bots were nowhere to be seen. “Next gen,” she whispered. She gestured to the person behind her to take it. The tall man lifted the box with fear and reverence. His arms trembled and Delilah didn’t think it was because of the weight. A line of sweat trickled down her back.

  “Rumors are
they’re super soldiers.” The girl leaned in, fighting tears. “Like before the war.”

  Delilah stumbled a step back, and the girl called out for the next in line. The stories from before the war were terrifying. Bots had become brutal overlords, forcing the humans to fight for their very existence. But fight they did, and took down much of the technology with them. Just not enough.

  Delilah hadn’t moved by the time the next person approached the line. He gave Delilah a funny look and told her to move. She didn’t, though, until Brute stepped up behind her and grabbed her arm.

  She twisted to see behind her, but the girl was already opening a new box with pieces that looked like lasers inside.

  “Did you see—” she started.

  “Shh,” Brute cut her off. He loosened his hold on her arm and she fell in step. “Not here. I know.” He paused by the door, watching the line of people filing in with boxes under their arms. Delilah felt sick knowing what was in them. “We’ve known for a long time.”

  She wrung her hands. “Zane knew,” she said.

  His face softened. “He wanted to keep it from you,” Brute said under his breath. “But do you understand, now? There’s no keeping it from anyone. We fight, or we die. We cease to exist as a species.”

  Delilah teared up and nodded her head. She watched a fishing boat float up the river, taking the two giant bots’ attention. It was the type of vessel they could make their escape on, though escape was the furthest thing from Delilah’s mind.

  “Where is he, really?” Delilah asked. “Zane, and the others, if they were taken.”

  Brute fiddled with the disk in his mouth. “I’ll tell you, but it’s not pretty.” He tipped his chin up. “Time to disappear.”

  “But what about Zane and the others?” She pressed on the disc in her back tooth. Nothing felt different, but Brute nodded. He slipped them past the side of the warehouse. The other prisoners were too tired to care, and Delilah didn’t see Rita anywhere. She felt a twang of remorse at leaving the old woman, but they couldn’t save anyone. Not yet.

 

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