“I should look at it,” she said.
He shook his head. “Don’t you remember what the screens said about this kind of injury? If I take off my boot, it might swell. I won’t be able to get the boot back on. I won’t be able to walk.”
She stood up and thought of the robot. “I’ve got to talk to the mind,” she said. “It can send another robot out. We can last until it gets here, can’t we?”
She ran down the hill toward the gardener. The machine was still; its viewplate was badly dented, while the lights under the plate had gone out. Its limbs seemed twisted, and part of its dome was crushed.
“Can you hear me?” she said. “Move your arms if you hear me.” The gardener did not move. Its sensors were probably damaged; its dead lights told her that it was inactive and perhaps damaged beyond repair. They had lost the robot. The mind could no longer hear their commands. It would go on protecting the Institute, as it had been programmed to do, but it had no directives that could help her and Sven.
She dropped to the ground, overcome by the hopelessness of their situation.
“Nita?” Sven was hobbling toward her, dragging their packs as he nursed his injured leg.
“The gardener’s gone,” she said. “Its lights are out. We probably couldn’t repair it even if we had the tools and knew how. It wasn’t built to survive anything like this.”
“If its lights are out,” he said, “its sensors must be dead. We can’t hope for any help from the mind.”
She covered her eyes, wanting to weep, but no tears came. “What are we going to do?”
“We’d better see what we can salvage here.”
“Sit down and rest your leg,” she said. “I’ll look.” She crawled along the ground, examining every item before she put it into a pack. Two of the bottles the robot had carried were dented but still usable; most of the food had been crushed and stamped into the grassy ground. The four weapons the robot had carried were unmarked; she tried one of the wands and saw a beam shoot out. The weapons, at least, were unharmed.
She helped Sven to his feet, then picked up their packs. He leaned against her as they walked back to the hill. She eased him to the ground, then slid a pack under his right foot.
“You know what this means,” he said as she sat down. “We have to get to the city now. Our only chance is to find people there. And if we don’t—” His voice broke.
If they found no one, they would have to retrace their route without enough food and without the gardener to help guide them. They could never have made it this far without their supplies; she did not believe that they had much of a chance. Sven was injured, and their food would give out; neither of them knew how to hunt or fish, while any plants that seemed edible might be poisonous.
“How can we get to the city?” she said despairingly.
“We have no choice. We wouldn’t make it to the Institute.”
“You need to rest your leg.”
“I can rest it when we reach the city,” he said. “The sooner we get there, the better off we’ll be. We should go before we lose any more time.”
With a knife Sven had brought from the tower cafeteria, Nita sawed off a thick tree limb for him to use as a walking stick. The knife was too dull for such a task, and her hands ached by the time she was finished.
They tied their packs to their backs; Sven picked up his stick and they left the hill. The bison were gone; the only creatures visible were a flock of waterfowl feeding among the reeds by the river.
Their progress was slow. She had to match her steps to Sven’s slower pace, and they were often forced to stop so that he could rest. He did not speak, as though he was conserving all his strength for the journey. They had some pills for pain in their small medical kits; she tried not to notice how many of them Sven was swallowing.
By late afternoon, the plain had given way to gently rolling land. Nita recollected the map; the city had stood among small hills, so this had to be a sign that they were closer to it. But the map had not shown a waterway that seemed more like a lake now than a river.
Sven stopped to lean on his stick; his face was pale, his jaw tightly clenched. Nita pointed at a nearby slope. “We should stop there,” she said. “It’s higher than the others and we’ll be able to see more of what’s around us.”
“It’s still light enough for us to go farther.”
She shook her head. “We must be closer to the city. Look—the hills are higher up ahead. We may be closer than we realize.” She did not mention the lake that had not appeared on the map. “You’ve got to rest, anyway. I can sleep until nightfall and then keep watch after that.”
“I can do my share.”
“Don’t argue with me now. You’re injured—I’m not.”
She walked on; he hobbled toward the hill behind her. They sat down with their backs to the water; she helped him off with his pack and propped it under his foot. “How does it feel now?” she asked.
His jaw tightened. “Worse.”
“Can you stay awake while I sleep?”
He nodded. She stretched out and covered her head with their cloth, shielding herself from the western sun. She had not expected to be able to do much more than rest a little, but the warmth of the day and the tiredness of her body soon made her drowse. Sleep was an escape; she welcomed its oblivion.
Nita kept watch throughout most of the night. Sven slept just below her on the slope, sheltered from the wind that blew toward them across the lake. Wolves howled in the distance; she could recognize their voices now. She longed for a fire, but was grateful for the moonlight.
We’ll reach the city, she told herself. We’ll find people there, and when they see Sven’s injured, they’ll take care of him until he’s well, and then—
Her dreams went no further than that. She conjured up thoughts of people they might meet, men and women who looked like some of the screen images, who would praise Nita and Sven for their fortitude. She refused to think of other possibilities.
Sven woke just before dawn. They shared a flat cake and some pieces of dried fruit in silence. “How does your ankle feel?” she asked at last.
“It’s a little better,” he replied.
“You’re brave to keep going. I wonder if I could have if I was injured like that.”
“It’s my own fault,” he said angrily. “I should have been looking at the ground, watching where I was running. I should have remembered the gardener sooner. We should have gone back after that first night, when I fell asleep on watch. I showed how useless I was then.”
“No, Sven.” She reached for his hand. “It isn’t true. I wouldn’t be alive now except for you.”
“If we don’t find anybody—” He paused. “These pills I’ve been taking—they make you a little drowsy. If we both took all of them and just walked into the water—well, it would be an easy way out.”
“No!” She drew back in horror. “Say you don’t mean that. You’re braver than that—you’ve proved it.”
“Do you think I was just thinking of myself? You don’t have much of a chance with me the way I am if we don’t find our people, and you wouldn’t be any better off alone. It’d be better to swallow those pills than to wait for something worse to kill us. I can’t stand to think of you suffering.”
“I can’t bear to think of you dying.” She put her arms around him. “Promise me you won’t do anything like that. I won’t let you—I’ll stop you somehow. Whatever happens, I’m not going to take those pills.”
“Then I guess I won’t, either. I can’t do it if it means leaving you alone. I only thought—”
“Don’t think of it anymore. We’ll get to the city, and if we have to, we’ll get back to the Institute by ourselves.” She held him tightly, willing him to live.
The hills were soon higher. They weaved their way among them, not wanting to tire themselves by climbing; the flatter ground near the shore was too rocky to cross easily.
When the sun was high, they stopped in a hollow to rest. “I’m going u
p this hill to look around,” Nita said as Sven seated himself. “Maybe I’ll see something.” She hurried up the slope and looked out over the lake, then tensed in surprise. To the south, a slender structure jutted above the surface of the water, and something else stood on the shore ahead. Was it a structure of some kind? It seemed to be a wall or part of a building, and the small, domed shape next to it had to be a craft.
She raced down the hill. “Sven! I think I see part of the city! We’re almost there!”
His face brightened; he leaned against his stick as he got to his feet. “Did you see people?”
She shook her head. “But they could be hiding. Come on.”
They made their way toward the shore; Sven gasped as he caught sight of the pillar in the middle of the lake. She moved ahead of him, finding places among the rocks where he would be able to walk. As they came closer, her hopes began to fade. She had expected to see other signs of the city by now, but there was only a wall and the twisted mass of metal in the lake.
It isn’t here, she thought; the city must lie farther to the south. But as she neared the wall, she was able to glimpse a few dark shapes below the water—pieces of rubble, flat, glassy surfaces, a silvery bubble that might once have been part of a craft.
The city was here, after all. The lake had swallowed it; only the wall remained.
The craft looked like the one that had landed at the Institute. Nita hurried toward the vehicle and held out her hands. “Come out,” she said, although she was already certain no one was inside the craft. She looked up at the opaque silver bubble. “Come out—we mean no harm. We want to be your friends.”
“No one’s here,” Sven said as he came to her side.
“They’re hiding,” she said desperately. “They’re afraid, that’s all.” She touched the side of the craft. Its door slid open to reveal lighted panels to her left and four worn seats. She turned away as the door closed.
“Who is there?”
She started; Sven’s blue eyes widened.
“Who is there?” the faint voice said again. It seemed to be coming from the wall. Nita crept toward it and saw a small, dented screen; its surface was marked by scratches.
“Someone has returned,” the voice said. “I see you now. I did not think it was possible.”
“Where are you?” Nita whispered.
“My nexus lies below the water,” the voice said as Sven limped toward the screen. “My remaining sensors are here and on the craft.” The voice sounded familiar now; it might almost have been the toneless voice of the Institute’s mind.
“You’re a mind,” Sven said to the screen.
“I am an artificial intelligence.”
“Where are your people?” he asked.
“I have no people,” the mind answered. “I have seen no people since the time my city died until now.”
“But we saw a craft,” Nita said. “Who came to the Institute?”
“Do you speak of the Kwalung-Ibarra Institute?” the mind asked.
“Yes.”
“My craft went there not long ago. I had sensed something in the sky, and it seemed to be traveling up from the Institute, but my few remaining sensors are so weak that I could not be certain. I sent the craft. It waited, but saw no signs of human life.”
“We tried to reach it,” Nita said, “but we were too late.”
“So you have traveled here from the Kwalung-Ibarra Institute,” the mind said. “I have searched far. I did not expect to see people again before I fail—the probability seemed so low as to be almost nonexistent.”
“You mean there aren’t any people at all?” Sven’s voice was strained; he gripped his stick tightly. “You haven’t seen anyone except us?”
“That is correct. I searched over all of Earth, when I had more vehicles, and have found no people anywhere.”
Nita stared at the screen numbly. “What happened to you?” she said.
“I was an intelligence that guided transport—I carried this city’s people over their tracks and bridges and tended the craft they used to journey elsewhere. I have lost some of what I knew, so I cannot tell you which weapons struck here, but they were ones that destroyed life while allowing many of the city’s structures to stand. If my circuits were not so damaged, I could easily call up some of my records and tell you exactly which weapons were used. Do you wish me to attempt a search for that information? I might—”
“No,” Nita said quickly. “What happened after that?”
“I was cut off from the voices of other minds. I watched my people die, and waited for a directive of some kind. I cannot tell you how much time passed after that. I searched my circuits, and at last, when I had restored part of myself, I seemed to sense a directive I must have lost earlier. Someone had asked me to search. Perhaps the order was given to me while the city was dying. It might have been a call for me to seek help, or perhaps someone in the city wanted to make certain that the enemy’s cities were dead as well. But I could no longer hear other minds in other places and had to begin the search with my craft.”
A lump rose in Nita’s throat. “What happened then?”
“I sent out all my craft. I looked near the Kwalung-Ibarra Institute first, but found only another place like this city—a structure without life.”
“The mind was there,” Sven said. “Why didn’t it speak to you through the craft’s systems?”
“I cannot say. Perhaps its people ordered it to close itself off from the outside when the war began. Any mind directing weapons might then have assumed that the Institute had already been struck. The mind there would not have communicated with the outside again without an order from a person to do so.”
Nita felt weak. Her people had used even the minds that served them to destroy themselves.
“I searched in many places,” the voice continued. “I sent my craft over this land and others, and learned that none of the people I had served lived. Occasionally I heard the voice of a mind before it failed. In a port for vehicles that traveled into space, I learned from a failing mind that those people who had left Earth to dwell in orbiting facilities were also silent, so it seems Earth’s people carried on their battle there. Those I served were capable of a great deal of destruction.”
Nita covered her face with her hands.
“I searched,” the mind said, “until I had lost all my craft except the one you see here. I heard no more minds. I knew I would find no people. Much of what they built has eroded or decayed, or been covered by earth and water. My sensors fail often now, and frequently I am blind and deaf for long periods. But now that I have seen you, it seems I have completed my search.”
Nita leaned against the wall. She had been foolish to think that her people had survived; hope was only another emotion over which she had no control.
“I am ready to serve you,” the mind said; its voice seemed weaker. “Do you have instructions for me? I can show you a few images of my search, if you like.”
“No.” Nita slumped to the ground. Sven sat down next to her, his back against the wall.
“We were fools to think we’d find anyone,” he said. “I hate myself for being one of their kind.”
Nita looked up at the screen. “Does the craft here still work?” she asked. “Can it take us back to the Institute?”
“It is in need of repair,” the mind responded, “but it is capable of traveling that short a distance. I do not think it could take you much farther. You need only enter it and tell it your destination.”
“Well, that’s something,” Sven said. “We made it here, and we have a way to get back, and we found out that Llare and Llipel didn’t lie when they told us no one was left.”
She thought of the embryos in the cold room. To bring others to life might only unleash their people’s evil on the world once more. Perhaps she and Sven would be the last of their kind, after all.
“What can we do now?” she asked.
“Go home. It doesn’t really matter. The Institute
has lots of things that’ll help us forget. We did what we could—there isn’t much left to do.”
She remembered his injury; she should tend to his ankle now. “Your foot,” she said. “I should take a look at it.” She leaned over and tugged gently at his boot; he winced. She did not want to return to the Institute yet, where she would feel that she was entering the place that would become their tomb.
Sven’s ankle was swollen and discolored, but she found no broken bones. She bathed the injury with cold water from the lake, then bound it lightly with a piece of cloth torn from her pack. Sven endured her care in silence. Although they no longer needed to save their food, he refused the packet she offered him.
She put her pack inside the craft and then walked back to him. He sat facing north, with his foot on top of his pack.
“How does your ankle feel?” she asked.
“Pretty bad.” He was trying to smile. She seated herself next to him and leaned back against the wall. The sun was dropping in the west; it would soon be evening.
“We ought to go back,” she said. “There’s no point in spending another night out here.”
“You don’t really want to go back, do you?”
She shook her head.
“I know. It’ll be like admitting everything’s over, that there’s nothing left for us to do. But we got this far, and we did learn something about the outside. We could make other journeys, couldn’t we? It’d be better than just sitting around, waiting for—”
His voice trailed off. He lifted his head, and then she saw his eyes widen. “Nita.” He looked up at the sky as he grabbed her hand.
She raised her head. Beyond the hills, high in the northern sky, three tiny ships were dropping below the clouds. They were barely visible, but they seemed round, like Llipel’s ship. They were moving north; soon she could not see them at all.
“They’ve come back,” she whispered.
“Why?” Sven asked. “But we can guess, can’t we? They know about our kind. I don’t think they’ll show any mercy to people who could destroy a world.”
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