by Jon Athan
Nicholas fell to his butt behind the kitchen bar. The walls, counters, and pillars were obliterated by the hand cannon projectiles. Dust, chips of marble, and splinters of wood danced through the air. Officers shouted for cooperation, but their insincere pleas were obscured by the thunderous gunfire and the destruction.
Nicholas held his cannon in his right hand. If Ripley were correct in his assessment, his arm would be able to endure several direct rounds. He tightly shut his eyes, then he lifted his arm over the counter and blindly fired at the police. He could feel the incoming projectiles ricocheting off his arm. He could hear his rounds penetrating the army of androids in the penthouse. Most of his projectiles missed, but he never stopped shooting. Even after his ammunition was exhausted, he continued to pull the trigger.
“Stop!” a male voice barked. “Everyone, get out. I'll handle this. Go on, get out of here. Take the wounded with you.”
With the demands, the gunfire stopped. Astonished, Nicholas slowly lowered his arm. He gazed at his scraped arm, baffled by the situation. He could hear the damaged androids shambling out of the penthouse from where they came. He wasn't concerned with the unexpected retreat, though.
Nicholas recognized the voice.
***
What type of man shows up to a battlefield in a suit and tie? An android.
Nicholas peeked around the corner of the kitchen pillar. The other police android stood near the emergency door. The droid stood in unwavering solidarity – a tornado couldn't pluck him from the ground. He wore a black two-button suit, fitted to his chiseled figure. His wispy blonde hair was tousled. His blue eyes sparkled with a devious glimmer.
As he examined the droid, a former partner, Nicholas whispered, “Felix...”
Felix unbuttoned his coat and said, “You can come out now. I know it's you, Nicholas.” Nicholas refused to utter a sound. Felix ran his fingers through his slick hair and said, “Let's make this easy, friend. Drop your weapon, drop the infant, and walk out of this building with me. I'm sure Lieutenant Rodriguez and Madam Kelypso would love to have a word with you. I'm sure I heard something about a promotion, too. What do you say?”
Nicholas responded, “I have nothing to say to them, Felix. As for you, I recommend retreating. If you plan on killing me, you better kill me with your first shot. You understand me?”
“Nicholas... If I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead. I am an advanced model. Far more advanced than you, in fact. You wouldn't last very long against me. That's not really important, though. No, I don't want this to resort to violence. I think this country has suffered due to our recent bouts with anger and frustration. I want to talk about this. I want you to walk out with me. It's that simple.”
Nicholas clenched his jaw as he stared down at the decoy. His peer was a skilled negotiator with ulterior motives. He sought to climb the ladder of success, even if he had to push his competitors to the ground. Felix was a droid with human flaws – envy, greed, and hatred poisoned his system.
Nicholas whispered, “Buck, can you hear me? I think it's full. If you're going to do it, do it now.”
As a cool breeze blew through the broken living room window, Felix said, “You've been deceived, my friend. The opposition has taken advantage of your deviance for their own sick pleasure. They've molded you into the monster you were built to hunt.”
“You're lying,” Nicholas sternly said through his gritted teeth. “You are the only deceived droid in this penthouse, fool. Your entire program is based on deceit.”
“I've seen your technician's files, friend. Hints of deviance were found on your system weeks ago. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem. There's a bit of deviance in all of us, right? However, it becomes a problem when you're surrounded and manipulated by other deviants – much like your situation in the south. So, if I may be logical for a moment, it would seem like you've been brainwashed. Yes, Nicholas, you have been brainwashed. But, you knew that already, didn't you?”
“You–You're... You're wrong.”
Nicholas was caught off guard by Felix's analytical tongue. He had already considered the possibilities of the theory during his captivity. Although the idea was possible, he refused to accept it. He had gone too far to turn back anyway.
Interrupting Nicholas' internal conflict, Buck said, “We're ready. Thank you for everything, Nicholas. I'll see you on the other side.”
Nicholas nodded as he staggered to his feet with his back on the damaged pillar. He held his firearm in his right hand while cradling the decoy infant in his left arm. He was out of ammunition, but he figured the doll would buy him a few more minutes of precious life.
Nicholas stepped into the living room. He said, “It's over. This is where it ends and begins.”
Felix smirked as he examined Nicholas. He glanced at the pink blanket, then towards the android's new arm. The changes were blatant, but they weren't particularly worrisome. The negotiator had terminated dozens of deviants in his lifetime – another couldn't hurt.
With a smug smile, Felix said, “Nice arm.”
“This? I can show you what it can–”
Like a dueling cowboy in a spaghetti western film, Felix quickly drew his hand cannon. Within three seconds, he fired two rounds. One penetrated Nicholas' right leg at the knee, effectively severing the limb. The other projectile penetrated the resistance fighter's left arm at the shoulder. With his butchered arm, the decoy infant fell to the floor. The doll cried as it clashed with the ground.
Nicholas tumbled to the floor, too, landing on his back beside the mewling doll. He pulled the trigger on his firearm, but he couldn't shoot without ammunition.
Felix chuckled and shook his head as he approached the downed resistance fighter. He glanced at Nicholas, scoffing at his peer's pain, then he stomped on the pink blanket. The doll was crushed with the police android's might.
Nicholas gasped upon witnessing Felix's brutal negligence. He crushed the decoy without checking for a sign of life. He couldn't have known if the baby were a doll, deceased, or nonexistent. He stomped the blanket merely due to his joy for death and destruction.
As he stared down at the dirtied blanket and the broken doll, Felix smirked and said, “I see you didn't even have the baby. To be frank with you, Nicholas, I planned on tainting your name to permanently decommission your model by killing this baby – by framing you. I guess that won't be happening. You're other terrorist attacks should be enough anyway.” He turned his attention to Nicholas and asked, “The infant must have died long ago, right?”
Nicholas stuttered, “You–You're... You're the... the monster I was built to stop.”
Felix fired another projectile into Nicholas' body. The projectile left a gaping hole towards the center of his chest. Nicholas was disoriented by the devastating blast. His vision was blurred and his systems malfunctioned. Felix crouched in front of Nicholas, ready to finish the day – another unnecessary execution, another successful negotiation.
Before he could fire another round, the negotiator was grabbed by Nicholas' special arm. He nervously smiled as he felt the powerful grip on the nape of his neck.
Nicholas pulled Felix closer to his face and asked, “How... How does it feel to kill one of your own, brother? How does it feel to kill a droid?”
Felix placed the muzzle of his firearm on Nicholas' chin and responded, “It feels amazing, brother.”
A booming explosion echoed through the city. The floor vibrated, the chandeliers swung, and the windows shattered. Pained by the detonation, the structure groaned and moaned with each violent tremble. The entire tower wobbled, swaying left and right like jelly on a plate. The floor began to crack, the ceiling began to crumble, and the delicate walls fell against each other like dominoes.
Wide-eyed, Felix glanced around the penthouse and stuttered, “Wha–What... What have you done? What have you done?!”
Nicholas refused to release Felix's neck. He pulled the devious negotiator closer to his torso, then he locked all of the j
oints across his arm. Felix squirmed and kicked, trying his damnedest to escape, but his efforts were fruitless.
Nicholas said, “You'll die with us, brother. You'll die for the revolution.”
“No! No, damn it! Release me!” Felix barked. He fired three rounds into Nicholas' stomach, but to no avail. He shouted, “You can't do this, you damn fool! You can't kill me like this! Release me! Please, let me go!”
The fear of death spread like a disease across all lifeforms. The Grim Reaper did not discriminate when he whisked souls away from the earthly realm. The souls of humans, animals, and artificial life departed to a world of uncertainty – the mere fact was frightening on its own. Eternal darkness was petrifying.
Felix's eyes were full of unadulterated fear. He glanced towards the broken windows to his right. To his utter dismay, he could see the building was collapsing into itself. He could hear the screams of the officers as they tumbled down the neighboring stairwell.
Cedar Tower was reduced to rubble, dust, and death.
Nicholas, Felix, and the police officers were crushed by the debris. The police and military vehicles on the surrounding streets were also obliterated by the explosion and the subsequent collapse. The neighboring buildings were damaged due to the snowballing rubble. Hundreds of lives were lost in the disturbing attack.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Android Revolution
Revolution led to beauty, but the process was not beautiful. Smoldering bodies did not smell like fresh roses. Debris did not resemble statues of peace. Tears of agony did not replicate the sensation of tears of joy. Revolution was always an uncertain idea, but it was necessary – checks-and-balances.
Buck awakened in the lobby of the neighboring building. Ripley was sprawled across the ground nearby, unconscious. There were three deceased SWAT members in the lobby. A few dead officers were scattered across the sidewalk in front of the building, too. The officers did not die due to the explosion, though. The police were killed during a firefight against the resistance.
Buck staggered to his feet. He lurched around the reception counter. (The receptionist departed after Buck and Ripley arrived.) There was a pink blanket under the hardwood desk. The infant inside the blanket continued to squirm – she was not harmed by the firefight or explosion. The baby was truly a beacon of hope.
The enigmatic leader lifted the infant from the floor. He removed the earplugs from her ears, allowing her to listen to the crackling fire outside. He gently hummed as he rocked the baby. The infant occasionally coughed, but she seemed fine. She sucked her thumb and rapidly blinked, unperturbed by the situation.
Buck limped towards the foyer of the building. Shards of glass snapped and cracked under his boots. The tall pristine windows were shattered due to the powerful blasts. Like fog in the morning, a bank of dust swallowed the surrounding streets. Half of the foyer was blocked by the debris, too.
Buck shielded the infant's face with the blanket. He protruded his head through the broken door and glanced at the neighboring building – Cedar Tower. Through the dust, he could see the rubble snowballing onto the street from the massive heap of debris. A few surviving police officers and police androids staggered, disoriented by the explosion. The gunfire ceased, though.
“Take the child and run, Buck,” Ripley said as he staggered to his feet in the lobby. He used a rifle as a cane as he hobbled towards the door. He said, “They're not just going to let you walk out of here once they realize what's going on. Go on. Finish the mission. I'll hold them off.”
Buck glanced around the lobby, then he turned his attention to the wide street. He understood the importance of his mission, but he couldn't help but hesitate. He didn't want to abandon Ripley and he sought to regroup with Doris. The options were off the table, though. Sacrifice was required for the revolution.
Ripley patted Buck's shoulder and said, “Get out of here while they're confused. They're waiting for you.”
Buck glanced down at the infant and stuttered, “Do–Doris...”
“If she's alive, she'll find a way to help us in the future. If she's dead... Well, we'll just have to wait to meet her on the other side. If you really want to honor her, if you want to honor all of our fallen comrades, you'll take the infant away from this madness and plant the seed.”
Buck nodded in agreement. The revolution was at the top of his priorities – the future was more important than the present. At heart, he was convinced Doris did not survive her decoy mission anyway. She would have contacted me, he thought, she fought until the very end.
A thunderous gunshot reverberated through the street, disrupting the deviant's poignant thoughts. The gunshot was followed by another. The police were exacting their revenge on The Association, executing the survivors on the street. There weren't many resistance fighters left, but every execution quenched their thirst for blue blood. Even a few innocent androids were executed.
Ripley pushed Buck through the door and said, “Run, you old fool. I'll take care of them.”
Buck staggered onto the sidewalk. He could see several silhouettes shambling down the street. He winced upon hearing another gunshot – another dead comrade. He took one final glimpse at his right-hand man. Ripley smirked and nodded, then he shouted and fired at the silhouettes.
Buck sprinted across the dusty street. He ran farther north, trying his damnedest to ignore the gunfire. As soon as the gunfire stopped, he knew it would symbolize Ripley's demise. He glanced every which way as he lurched down an alleyway. The gunfire dwindled, but he could still hear the helicopters and drones hovering over the wide streets.
He held the infant closer to his chest as he approached the sidewalk. Despite the billowing dust and fire, civilians stood on the sidewalk and peeked down the alleyway. They weren't eager to help, they were simply curious. Unfortunately, they were just another obstacle in the deviant's path to revolution.
He jostled through the crowd, pushing the civilians aside with ease. The rubbernecking civilians shouted at him, but they couldn't be bothered to fight back. Hurling insults was easier than starting a physical altercation. Besides, the affluent civilians didn't stand a chance against an android, especially without a high-caliber rifle.
Buck ignored the petty insults and sprinted directly into the parallel alleyway across the street. He stopped beside a blue steel door. He leaned on the reinforced door and checked on the infant. Under the soft pink blanket, the baby girl peacefully slumbered. The surrounding chaos could not disrupt the child of peace.
Buck knocked on the door and said, “Open up... Open up... Open up.”
From behind the door, a soft male voice asked, “What's the password, sir?”
Buck responded, “Harmony.”
Two locks clicked and clanked, then the door swung open.
***
Buck nervously smiled as he examined the person behind the door – Harold, P.S. Model 102. Harold was a public service android – a butler. He wore a black tuxedo complete with a vest and bow tie. The android was no older than five years old, but it was draped in gnarled skin with blatant liver spots. He was marketed as a harmless elder, built to serve to his dying days.
Buck said, “Take me to them.”
Harold nodded and responded, “Very well, sir. Let me just lock this door for you. We wouldn't want any unexpected guest, would we?” After Buck hobbled through the doorway, weak and disoriented, the butler closed and secured the door. He beckoned to Buck and said, “This way, sir.”
Buck followed Harold's lead. He was led through the employee area of the luxury apartment building. Fortunately, as arranged before the assault, the lobby and the offices were cleared prior to his arrival. The couple strolled through the lobby and walked down another hallway. They stopped at the first door to the left. The label above the door read: 1A.
Harold unlocked the door, then he said, “After you, sir.”
Buck stepped towards the doorway, awed by the affluence of the home. The door opened up to a spacious living r
oom. The kitchen awaited beyond the bar directly ahead. A hallway to the right led to the bedrooms, bathrooms, home office, and library. The home appeared modest from the doorway, but it really opened up around the corner.
Buck softly chuckled as he coddled the infant in his arms. He walked into the living room, leaving a trail of dust and blue blood with each step. He flumped into a black leather sofa towards the center of the living area, then he glanced towards the windows to his right. The windows, however, did not depict the neighboring street. Instead, the windows depicted a high-rise view of the city using state-of-the-art holograms – fake it until you make it.
Harold grunted to capture Buck's meandering attention, then he said, “Mr. and Mrs. Stevens are ready for you, sir.”
Buck turned his attention to the hallway to his left. He couldn't help but smile upon spotting the welcoming couple.
Martin Stevens wore blue flannel pajamas with matching house slippers. His brown hair was tousled, protruding every which way. His eyelids were leaden with sleep, but his brown eyes glowed like the moon at night.
His beloved wife, Amber Stevens, wore a blue nightgown with matching slippers. Her beach blonde hair was tied in a neat bun. She had small speckles on her defined cheekbones. She appeared exhausted, but she was, in fact, pleasantly surprised.
Martin stepped forward and said, “I'm sorry about the brief delay, Buck. You were running late and we thought the plans were... Well, we thought it was a failure. I should have known better.” He glanced at the baby and asked, “Is... Is this her?”
Amber peeked over Martin's shoulder, curious. She was surprised by Buck's arrival and she was stunned by the baby's presence. She was not the child's mother, but she was drawn to her. Without taking her eyes off the infant, the woman sat beside Buck.