I take DeVille’s hand. “I guess I’m Big Daddy.”
19. What’s the Number For 9-1-1?
We sit in a kitchen off the main assembly warehouse.
There’re chairs set around a table. A bank of holographic screens on one wall—one shows a slumbering Athena. A refrigerator that actually fuckin works is in the corner next to the counters and cabinets. On the wall opposite the door is a huge window. Can’t see much of anything through the glass. Too dark. But there are faint blue beacons of light.
Me, Jack, Catarina, DeVille. Just some strangers having their last supper.
DeVille points out the dark window. “That’s Warehouse B. You’ll see it soon enough.”
I screw the top off a big bottle of Evan Williams. “Where’s Plissken?”
Since you damn well better believe I wanna have words with him about Athena.
DeVille gets shiny metal cups. Hands one to each of us. “Off in the junkyard known as Warehouse C with his kids.”
I pour everyone a healthy dose of liquid courage. Put the bottle at the center of the table.
Jack and Catarina sit next to each other at the head.
DeVille sits on the other side of em.
I take a sip. Light a cigarette. Stand near the sink so it can work as my big ashtray.
Then I wait for DeVille to yell at me.
She doesn’t. Jack and I raise our eyebrows at one another.
He smiles. Sparks a stogie.
Catarina cocks an eyebrow. Says to DeVille, “I thought this was a non-smoking establishment.”
DeVille shrugs. “I don’t care about in here. Door’s closed and I’ve got air filters running between all the rooms. You smoke out there, you’re liable to get that shit inside some of my very important electronics. I can’t have that. Fuck up your lungs. Don’t fuck up my stuff.”
I say to her, “What’s your story?”
She says, “Well, Big Daddy—” with some sarcasm slathered on it “—I am an engineer and a pilot. Gunships, mostly. I came to Sikorsky thirteen years ago with my daughter and a small detachment of Marines. Me a proud Pequot babe at the ripe age of twenty-five. There were always Marines stationed here, given the company’s relationship with the United States of Christ. Then the infection hit and it all went sideways.”
Jack says, “Your daughter—”
My eyes go wide and I shake my head at him but it’s too late.
Jack drops his gaze. “Sorry.”
DeVille takes a drink. Says, “It’s been a long time, Jack. Those wounds never heal. But they do scab over.” She stares at the whiskey sloshing around in her cup.
“Well,” Catarina says, “I’m glad you didn’t lose it and off yourself. A lot of people...aren’t that strong.”
DeVille shrugs. “I’ve always been pretty stubborn about staying alive.”
“That’s what we like to hear.” Catarina waits a beat. “But I think what everyone wants to know is how Sikorsky remained untouched. Untouched and goddamn pristine.”
“Not quite untouched. We lost warehouse C a few years ago. One of the big ones went crashing through it. I don’t think the sonuvabitch even knew I was here. Some huge ape thing with a centipede face. I ended up chasing it through Stratford. Bones are still there. Took me a half hour to kill the thing with a gunship.
“But yeah, I know what you’re asking. It’s probably easier for me to show you.”
DeVille gets up. Walks over to the big dark window. She flips open a panel under it. Hits a series of switches. Powerful overhead lights kchunk on in the other room.
Kchunk. There’s a row of five boxy robots. A sign on the shelves next to em reads: JANITORIAL. Each’s about two feet by two feet. They have little red lights on top. I saw one of em scoot around earlier, but I didn’t know what it was then.
Kchunk. Seven drones hover. They bobble a little in the air. They’re sleek. Shaped like triangles. I see ports for missiles and guns along their frame.
Kchunk. An operations bay. A command center ringed by holographic screens. A bigger version of the cubby from inside the tank.
Kchunk. A repair bay. There’s a few other robots in various stages of being-put-together-ness. No idea what they are or what they were.
Then.
Kchunk.
Whoa momma.
DeVille says, “Meet Alpha.”
A fifteen-foot-tall mechanical warrior stands at the back of Warehouse B. Its armor is a matte grey with digital pattern camouflage. The body is humanoid with a big chest and shoulders. A head with a red visor. The fingers of its articulated hands flex.
If Robocop mated with the Jaegers from Pacific Rim, the spawn would look close to this.
It’s fuckin awesome.
I stare at the mech. There’s a tingle in my balls. “I want one.” Pure childish excitement. “I want to punch things and make monster heads explode.”
DeVille puts her hands on her hips. Smirks.
I’m back to being in love with her.
Jack says, “Badass. But what exactly is it? Powered armor? An AI?”
DeVille says, “Show and tell.” She pats my shoulder to get me to move. I stand stupid for a minute cuz, y’know, a non-psychotic woman’s touched me after being alone for ten years. Then I back up.
She opens another panel on the wall. Takes a slim microphone out. “Alpha, please come here. Come to the glass.” Her voice plays over the PA system in the other room.
Catarina furrows her brow. Mouths ‘Please?’ to Jack.
Jack shrugs.
Alpha turns its head. Stares right through the window at DeVille. The red visor glows. The robot jogs. It’s fast. Graceful. And if the damn thing wasn’t a hunk of metal, I’d say it’s light on its feet too.
DeVille says, “Alpha can function as both a sentry or as powered armor for one pilot. The built-in weaponry is light. Just a laser above the visor. But she’s EMP shielded, can take a hell of a beating, and the articulated hands can utilize, say, a cannon torn off a gunship. The side panels slide apart for the pilot.”
Alpha takes a knee in front of the big window.
DeVille puts her hand against the glass.
Alpha does the same. Aligns its fingers and thumb with hers. Its hand dwarfs DeVille’s.
Jack and Catarina both stiffen. Grimace.
I think it’s kinda sweet. Me having nobody but Plissken for company all those years.
Maybe they don’t get it.
Man, parents just don’t understand, son!
I hear Athena’s voice behind me. “Daddy?”
She’s got the teddy bear. Roosevelt. She holds it by one floppy arm at her side. She’s rubbing the sleep outta her eyes.
Kid’s only been knocked out for an hour. She needs more rest. Not the excitement of a big walking robot.
I scoop Athena up. Hold her against my chest. “Hey, monkey. Why aren’t you sleeping?”
She says “Noises” into my neck.
Noises...
I say, “The machines or something else, monkey?”
She shakes her head. Still exhausted. But if she’s hearing shit, I need to know. Might be monsters. Might just be some Keefs wandering around outside.
I turn us around to face DeVille and Alpha.
DeVille glances at the teddy bear. Her eyebrows lift. She starts to say something.
It all goes very wrong, very fast.
A full minute of chaos punctuated by my heartbeats and flashes of action.
Alpha lowers its head. The visor blinks. It’s looking at the goddamn stuffed animal.
Jack and Catarina are on their feet. Both have guns up.
DeVille shouts into the microphone, “Alpha! Alpha disengage!”
Alpha either doesn’t recognize the command or doesn’t give a damn.
&nbs
p; Alpha’s visor blinks again.
DeVille screams. Grabs her face. “No, no, no, no.”
I turn my back. Try to shield Athena.
Jack yells to DeVille: “Is the fuckin glass bulletproof or not, woman?”
Catarina jumps over the table toward me.
I smell the huge release of energy more than I hear it. A stink of ozone. But I do hear the big window melt. Fall apart. I feel heat. A lance of fire in my back. Goes right through my carbon suit. It hurts so goddamn bad.
My hands let go of Athena. Even though I don’t want em to.
The girl tumbles.
Catarina slides under me. Catches my daughter. Gets up again in one smooth motion. Both my mom and daughter bolt out the door.
I hit the floor. My knees take the brunt of the force. Then I’m on my chest. Breath knocked outta my lungs.
Jack shouts again. He says, “Get the fuck out of the way.”
DeVille says, “No, don’t shoot. Don’t shoot, please.”
“Bitch, I’m gonna put bullets in that thing’s head.”
I feel the teddy bear next to me. Grab it. Roll over. See DeVille with her hands up between Jack’s big Colt and Alpha.
Jack sees me move. He takes a lungful of air. Expels it slow. He nods once.
How the fuck’m I supposed to respond?
I lift the teddy bear. Raise my eyebrows at Alpha. “This yours?”
Alpha reaches in behind DeVille. Its long metal fingers unfurl. It plucks the teddy bear from my hands. Gentle. But excited. Like...
Shit.
I can’t move my legs. Can’t feel em. Nothing below the waist. That ain’t good.
Not like you were using your dick much anyway.
Good timing, voice. Was getting lonely in here.
I pinch the sides of my legs. Nada. I pinch my side. Hurts like a bastard. Maybe this shit’s temporary. Shock or trauma or something. I’m kinda doubting it, though.
I feel my arms. Fine. My chest. Ribs are all right. Sore. Then my fingers slip inside my abdomen.
Well, that’s interesting.
I’m in too much pain to be angry. I’ve actually fuckin surpassed my ability to be angry.
I prop myself up on my elbows. None of my guts spill out. But there’s a hole there. Cauterized by whatever energy weapon Alpha cooked me with.
My spine is a little, tiny bit severed.
It’s very tempting to push my arm through myself and mess with Jack.
I stare at Alpha. The big robot caresses the teddy bear. It pets the stuffed animal’s ears. Pokes the plush toy’s black nose. Then Alpha rubs its cheek against the bear.
DeVille reaches out. Cups Alpha’s face. Says, “Baby, why did you do that?”
I raise my hand. Still in some kinda shock or trauma or whatever. I say, “I don’t mean to alarm anyone, but I appear to be a crippled human donut.”
20. Living Dead Girl
The pain comes. It’s constant. Nightmarish. I can’t handle it.
I scream. Still on the goddamn kitchen floor.
I smoke. Jack pours whiskey down my throat.
Catarina rushes Athena away. Again. On account of I don’t want to freak her out.
DeVille injects a syringe into the base of my neck. She says it’s a neural blocker. Says all this between sobs. And she’s so sorry. My brain won’t be able to transmit pain. She tells me it’s what they give guys on the battlefield when they lose a limb. Best part is it doesn’t impact clarity of thought.
Great.
Great!
I’ll be able to perfectly reflect on how fucked all this is.
DeVille wraps gauze dipped in medigel around my abdomen.
Plissken scans me. He makes a little humming noise. Says, “You have lost two vertebrae. Your spinal cord was severed. Your stomach resembles a munched pastry. Otherwise, you are fine.”
I say, “Yeah, thanks Doc.” Jackass. And I still need to yell at him about monkeying with Athena’s mental development. But there might not be much of a point.
Jack says, “He’s totally paralyzed?”
Plissken says, “From the waist down, yes. There’s no telling when he will regenerate or how long the process will last or exactly how thorough the healing will be.”
Jack nods. “Shit.” He looks me over. “We’re gonna figure this out, bud. Don’t worry.”
I say, “Me? Worry? Get outta town.”
Man, drugs are awesome.
Also, I can easily be folded into a suitcase now.
So, y’know, that’s fun.
Catarina walks back into the room. She doesn’t say a thing. She marches up to DeVille and punches the Pequot woman in the face.
DeVille can’t block the hit. She wobbles backward. Flops into one of the chairs.
Catarina says, “You stupid cunt. You gave my granddaughter a toy that you had to know was going to make that damn machine nuts. Now my son is sprawled out on the ground. His spine isn’t connected anymore.”
DeVille licks blood from her split lip. A sneer waves across her face. Then she’s back to crying. “I didn’t know that was going to happen. How could I possibly have known?”
I take a drag from my cigarette. Another pull from the whiskey bottle. “Cuz you stuck your dead kid’s brain inside Alpha. Didn’t you. I’ve been paralyzed by the headmeat of a lonely dead girl.”
DeVille mutters to herself. “Using organic tissue was the only way to make it work... You can’t blame my daughter for this.”
“I don’t. I blame you.”
Jack and Catarina fold their arms. Disapproving parents.
I think: Well, I guess it’ll be hard to bring DeVille home for a nice family dinner now.
I say, “Where’s Athena?”
Catarina says, “Asleep. Hopefully for a while. I gave her some whiskey.”
I grunt. “She does need the knockout time.”
DeVille looks at the floor. Me. Her eyes are still wet. She sniffles. Runs a hand through her hair. Gets up and sits down next to me. “You have to believe me. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s pretty easy to tell you’re sorry. Doesn’t change much about the situation though.”
She takes my hand.
My stomach knots up.
She says, “I have an idea.”
Plissken says, “I recommend moving quickly with that idea. Juliet’s radar is picking up a horde of infected heading this way. They must have followed the not-at-all-subtle swath of destruction we cut across the East Coast.”
Jack says, “How many?”
“About five hundred. Plus what we think is downtown White Plains.”
* * *
The last thing I want is more robot bullshit.
DeVille says, “I can put you inside Alpha. It’ll keep you safe and you’ll be able to fight. The pins will keep your body aligned to heal. We stick you inside.”
I get to ride in a mech! Neat! I’m twelve years old again. But: “Pins?”
DeVille shrugs. Still next to me on the floor. “I don’t have time to give you proper bioports.” She rolls up her jumpsuit sleeves for the first time. Shows off small circles of metal with black divots at their center. “Normally, pilots would already have these bioports installed. It allows you and the machine to trade information across a neural bridge. Literally the way your brain tells your muscles to move, you tell the machine to move.” She arches her eyebrows. A look of apology on her face. “So, Alpha will have to drive nerve spikes into you.”
“That’s gonna hurt.”
DeVille nods.
I say, “Well, at least I won’t feel that shit in my legs.”
She smiles. “There you go, Big Daddy. Keep your chin up.”
“Wait, wait. If my brain’s supposed to treat Alpha as my as my ‘real’ muscles
, right? Won’t I just fall the fuck over since my spine and legs are shot?”
“No. What?”
“My legs don’t work. How will my no-worky legs make Alpha’s worky legs work.”
“I don’t know if what you just said counts as English, but, your legs won’t be doing anything. Your brain will. The nerve spikes are going into your legs to keep the muscles from dying and to keep Alpha from snapping your bones in half when she moves.” DeVille taps my head. “You and Alpha will be sharing a mind.”
“A whacko like me sharing a mind with a little girl. This is a terrible idea.” I tap my head. “You have any idea what kinda weird stuff goes on up here?”
DeVille brushes my cheek. Her dark eyes flit back and forth between mine. She says, “It’ll be fine.”
And I wanna say back: Lady, if anything below my waist was working, we’d be in for a hell of an evening.
I take her hand. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Jack clears his throat. “Monsters inbound, kids. Time to get this show on the road.” He sets a stretcher next to me. Catarina moves next to him. Both carry me to Alpha.
* * *
DeVille cleans off the repair bench in her workshop. Mostly by saying, “Shoo.”
Parts of robots she’s been tinkering with scurry away on wires and partial legs. Like every part of em is an individual animal. It’s creepy.
Jack and Catarina set me down.
Plissken scans me again. “Well, there is good news. Your spinal cord appears to be rebuilding itself already.”
I take a pull of whiskey. “Fuckin-A.”
“I would dial back your excitement. Only three cells have regenerated.”
“Thanks for dashing my hopes against the rocks yet again.”
“I aim to please.”
Catarina says, “It’s all right. You’ll be back on your feet in no time. Until then, though, let’s get your ass inside the machine.”
I grab her wrist. “Wait.” Say to DeVille, “What’s her name. Her real name.”
DeVille eyeballs me for a second. Her mind plays around with the idea of opening that wound again. Until she finally says: “My daughter’s name is Jade.”
A Man and His Robot Page 18