No one was jovial or talkative while they unloaded the transport’s cargo onto pallets so a forklift could then move it up an inclined sheet-metal tunnel that connected to the front entrance of the main building. Austere severity was the rule of their labors and should anyone falter from that discipline one of the officers would scold them for negligence.
Grim guards with ready assault-rifles made certain that no one entered the building before they had submitted to the rigorous counter-infection protocols. They made everyone strip naked and then scrub themselves with soap and cold water. Any badly contaminated clothes went into a garbage barrel and they placed every other possession into baskets that other specialized crews would thoroughly decontaminate.
Medical officers inspected everyone in the nude freshly washed. They searched for bites, scratches, or other hints of possible infection like an irritable nervousness, cold sweating, or a telltale sagging of the eyes. Only after a person had their certification as being clean could they then enter into the King’s Tower.
Fat Jack purposefully followed Carmen so that she would be between himself and Critias. When the medic spent too long examining her, Jack spoke up, “Yes, she has an incredible body; meanwhile the rest of us are getting ready to beat you with shoes. Why don’t you take a picture then tug yourself to that later?”
“Sorry, Jack,” the inspector apologized to a man who was essentially second only to the King himself. “I’ve just never seen this woman before and she is a bit,” he sought for a word.
Jack offered, “Playmate? I just want to be clear on this, that you want to examine her nude body all morning to see if it gets even more fabulous?”
The medic sent her through rather than admit Jack was right; he had planned to examine her for as long as it took him to discover at least one human flaw.
The building’s main entry lobby was like a jail with its two rows of welded cages akin to prison cells; three of them held a single occupant. Digital clocks on their doors counted down from twenty-four hours, time enough to see if the tenant turned into a ghoul that they would destroy or should instead go free as a false alarm.
A woman from Decontamination Services returned Critias and Carmen their clean teslaflux pistols that had never been out of their holsters that morning. “Take your showers over there,” she pointed the way, “and remember to remain armed at all times.”
They walked to the hot showers where they could scrub themselves clean before they dressed. Men and women showered side-by-side as another practice to expose any infected individuals before they had sufficiently turned then became a genuine risk to the community as a whole. Critias found himself showering between Carmen and Penny Welder.
Penny made conversation as she shampooed her hair, “So you two are an item then?”
Nearly three hundred years had done its work on the English language as well as the cultures that spoke it, so Critias wasn’t always familiar with the colloquial speech of the era. He hesitated to answer because he was unsure if Penny asked if they were in a committed relationship and he was unsure how Carmen would react since saying the wrong thing risked an unpleasant reaction from her if she didn’t agree.
“Yes,” Carmen answered for him. “I would have him topping off my batteries right now if this wasn’t so public. He’s shy about displays of affection.”
“I’m not,” Penny said about being shy. “So Critias, do you two swing?” She stared right at him as she awaited an answer, “I really could go for a good topping-off myself right about now, with an audience or otherwise.” With her hands in her hair, her raised arms only made her breasts more impressive; the soapy water that dripped from them didn’t hurt the view any either and Penny made a point of all those facts just for the benefit of her invitation to them both.
Once again, Critias was cautious about her meaning since what he felt was most likely her intention seemed both dangerous and improbable.
“She is asking us if we ménage à trios,” Carmen said without any obvious interest or indignation. “Penny is beautiful,” she pointed out the obvious to him. “She shaved this morning, so I can’t say if she’s really a blond. I just love the shapely curve of her spinal column. It’s especially lovely. Would you like me to show it to you?”
“No,” Critias told Penny, “we’re committed and rather old-fashioned about those kinds of things.” He gave a cautious eye to Carmen. Penny had overlooked Carmen’s offer to pull out her spine and show it to him, but the message had been perfectly clear to Critias. Carmen operated directive-free and she had just answered his question if she experienced jealousy, not that he was interested in Penny anyway. He had enough relationship problems already with his unpredictable android and in truth, he found Carmen’s covetousness comforting, and her light-breasted athletic figure far more attractive.
“Too bad,” Penny shrugged off the rejection. “If either of you change your mind, I’ll still be interested.”
The same cleaning woman as before pulled a small wagon to bring Carmen and Critias their belongings. The decontamination crews had used microwave ovens or wands that jetted scalding steam to destroy any cellular traces of infection that might have imbedded in their clothing or equipment. They had the experience and the good sense not to accidentally damage anything by using an improper method.
After people dressed, they usually descended to a lower level of the Tower using a broad flight of marble stairs. Fat Jack waited at the top of them for Carmen and Critias to arrive from the locker room ready to continue. He said, “I promised to introduce you to the King.”
“I need some of the supplies we brought with us,” Critias told him, “and we have that gift for him that I showed you.”
Fat Jack took them through that floor to a room where the new salvage awaited transfer elsewhere. A guard there made sure nothing got touched without proper authorization. They used a cart to remove the containers with the android, the weapons, and the technical equipment they reserved for their own use. Critias added his mechsuit to the pile and then they followed Fat Jack as he led them to an elevator.
Jack gave them a tour as they walked, “This building is mostly about the Foragers; our apartments are upstairs and we use this entrance for getting to Foragers’ Castle then back again.”
He pointed out a side chamber that had every sort of welding equipment and metal fabricating tool in redundant numbers. Another chamber was where the Outfitter Department had upkeep workspace and general storage related to Forager body armor and splash protection. Yet another chamber was a like area the outfitters used that related to various weapons, the requisite ammunition, and gadgetry attachments. Civilized electric lighting illuminated everything.
Jack continued, “King Louie has the top for himself, Tinker Bob, and his bodyguard Hatchet. They’re all fine chaps; I’m sure you’ll like them. My apartment here is outstanding of course. If the King doesn’t give you quarters right away that are to your liking, you can stay with me until you find something better. You can believe that I have the space.”
Critias wondered if their economics was anything like his own time, “So how does everyone get paid?” The orbital colonies took a staggering loss when Colonel Walker lost all his dozers and tanks with an ungodly amount of other equipment in Chicago. It was such a setback that Critias was certain the Marshal Service would have to go back in there to reclaim the vehicles at least.
“Everyone works in some fashion or other,” Jack explained. “The more risks you take for the betterment of everyone else, the greater the bonuses are. No one has to ever so much as see an infected if that’s their preference, but staying safe isn’t the fast-track to getting a bigger apartment or other luxuries. I guess the answer to your question is that King Louie owns everything but the personal possessions. People try to earn his respect and he rewards the faithful their due, not a job I envy, but he’s done a fine job of it since the burden fell on his shoulders.”
Critias inquired, “What happened to your last King?”<
br />
Jack summoned the elevator with the press of a button, “The same thing that seems to get anyone these days. The devil has a key and can always get in.” Once in the elevator, he pressed another button to get them to King Louie’s floor. “It’s not a happy topic as you might imagine. He didn’t go alone or take everyone who would have wished to be with him.”
The elevator doors opened to an armed guard that munched on a piece of venison jerky. He eyed them curiously with more than a hint of suspicion after having noticed Critias was a stranger. “New arrivals I see,” said the man. When he examined Carmen, he broke into a smile, “You’re as beautiful as an angel on Christmas.”
“You’re so sweet,” she replied to the compliment with a disarming smile.
“Hatchet, meet Critias, and Carmen,” Jack introduced everyone. “I’ve already taken them for my Foragers. Both of them are the right-stuff with change to spare.”
Hatchet nodded suitably impressed already, “I’ll tell Jim you came up.” He walked off down the hall then knocked on one of the doors. After he spoke quietly to someone on the other side, he waved for the visitors to come down and join him.
Critias asked Hatchet, “You want our guns?”
The man frowned at him, “Didn’t someone tell you the rules yet? Everyone stays armed, always. If you so much as walk around without having a bullet chambered, you will be asking for an ass kicking.”
Critias shrugged, “I was only thinking of the King’s security.”
Hatchet said, “So are we,” then he opened the door for them.
The room beyond was an armory with thousands of guns that lined racks and filled cabinets. There were tables and equipment for a gunsmith, loading machines for ammunition casings, and a station for the manufacture of gunpowder. In the corner near the door was a comfort area with rugs on the floor, couches, and a wide-screen video display.
Seated on the couch was a young lad of perhaps sixteen years. He ate a snack and watched a feature film until they came in, then he turned to see them. The youth said, “You did a great job out there, Jack. Introduce me to our new friends. They look like a pair of good ones.”
Jack gestured their way, “This is Critias and his partner Carmen. They wanted to see you right away because they have a special gift for you.”
The lad stood up to meet them, “I apologize if you were expecting a throne room and dancing girls. This is my first chance to relax since I got up this morning.”
Critias could not believe it and thought Jack was playing a prank on him, “You’re King Louie?”
“You can call me Jim; the King Louie stuff is from the old radio show when there were still other survivors to bring in to join us.” He locked gazes with Critias then added, “I am King.”
Unforeseen or not, Critias believed him, “My apologies; you’re just not what I expected. Before we try to explain who we are and where we come from, I think you had better first see what we’ve brought for you.”
“It’s courteous of you to bring gifts,” Jim complimented him as he studied the mechsuit on the cart and realized he was in for some surprises. “Is that armor? I’ve never seen anything like that before. It looks alive.”
“That’s my mechsuit,” Critias explained. “It’s like the skeleton and musculature of an android that I can wear for combat situations. I thought it best to keep it close in case I had need of it.”
Jim asked, “By android you mean a robot?”
“I don’t mean a robot,” Critias corrected him. “By android, I mean someone as unbelievable as Carmen.”
Jim asked, “She’s a machine? That is unbelievable, and you say I wasn’t what you were expecting.”
Fat Jack spoke up, “Carmen is anything but a machine. She’s amazing in so many ways and very intelligent.”
Jim was curious to see how human her responses would be, “What are you comprised of, Carmen?”
“I’m roughly eighty percent genetically-engineered neorganic tissue. The rest is grade-five titanium and imbedded hardware.” She felt pleased to brag on herself, “I’m an Epsilon series combat model android, the very best of my kind. I’m like a human in most ways. Aside from the implants, my brain and other organs are not appreciably different in function than your own.”
Jim asked Critias, “Can I see your pistol?” After he held it then turned it over in his hands, he gave it back. “So where are you two from? Did you escape from Area Fifty One?”
Carmen suggested, “It might be best if that is what you told everyone else. I’d prefer they were not aware I wasn’t human or that we’re from nearly three-hundred years in your future.”
“I’m just a marshal where I come from so I don’t know the science stuff,” Critias told Jim. “One of our scientists figured out a way to send us here to help you out and here we are.”
Jim still had his doubts, “I have seen your equipment, but even so, that’s quite an unbelievable story.”
“That’s why I wanted you to see your new science android I’ve brought for you.” Critias took up the container with the android’s head then removed the shield so Jim could see the face, “If this doesn’t convince you, nothing will.”
It suitably amazed Jim, “What does he do after you assemble him?”
“He’s one of the science-engineering models of my series,” Carmen answered. “He’s not suited for combat such as I am, but you’ll find his academic knowledge is far superior to the traditional medicine and technology of your era.”
One of the other doors in the room opened then a middle-aged man entered wearing a watchmaker’s apron and magnifying goggles on his forehead. “What’s all this talk about an android?” he asked as he cleaned his hands on a handkerchief. After only a glance at Carmen, he approached her in delighted amazement. “Magnificent!” he praised her. “Please, my dear, may I see your hand?” When Carmen offered her hand, he examined it in detail. “Never have I seen anything more beautiful,” he didn’t refer to her physical form. He positioned his magnifying goggles then closely studied her profoundly engineered mechanical eyes, “Simply fascinating.”
“I am glad you feel that way, Bob,” Jim told him. “Your new Brainiac-5 is sitting right there still in the packaging. Bob, meet Critias and Carmen. They say they’re from the future and came all this way to give it to you.”
“Yes,” said Bob signifying little, “that would make sense. Such a cataclysmic disaster as ours has undoubtedly become a thorn in the paw of humanity for many centuries to come. They very well might see the best way of solving their problems would be in helping us with ours.”
Bob broke from contamination protocol just to kiss Carmen’s hand, “This is such an honor for me, just to see someone so astounding has me giddy.”
Carmen nearly blushed as she reveled in the attention, “I’d be delighted to tell you more about my kind while I assist you in assembling him. I have a sufficient understanding of the procedure that with your help we should have no difficulty in getting him operational.”
“Splendid suggestion,” Bob agreed. “I’m curious to ask you a great many things. We could start immediately if you are free.”
Carmen looked to Critias for permission and after she received his nod, she helped Bob move the android containers to his adjacent room.
Jim shook Critias’ hand, “Hatchet will show you to a room where you and Carmen can sleep until we come up with something better. I’ll send her your way when she’s finished.”
“Just so we understand one another,” Critias told Jim. “I pledge to you my cooperation and loyalty in all things save her. If anyone harms her claiming she is an infected or for any other reason, I promise you will find out why they gave someone like me something as priceless as her.”
“Then you offer me much and ask for very little,” Jim readily agreed to those easy terms to seal an unplayful bargain. “Feel free to think me young, but not a fool. Are you so sure I’m the one thinking Carmen is insufficiently human? I can’t imagine the place you c
ome from, but it has some strange ideas.”
Critias wanted an example, “Like?”
“Slavery,” Jim provided his answer. “You did just give me one of your best scientists as a gift, if I am not mistaken. I saw his head in a jar and he didn’t volunteer himself.”
Critias couldn’t deny the observation, but he didn’t really care to either, “While Carmen is here with me like this, she is free to do what she wishes and need obey no master. It’s my desire to see to it that she doesn’t ever return to any condition of servitude.”
“Well then,” Jim smiled in that they were in perfect agreement. “We desire the same thing. Bob will be the one who will sanction this new android and you already saw his opinion on their form of life. I think we can also agree that Bob will not mistreat either of them.”
Critias took the handle of his cart to go find his room.
“Just one more thing,” Jim said to give him pause. “If you care about Carmen’s wellbeing so much, are you her benevolent keeper or something more?”
The question made Critias hesitate long enough that he did it, “Ultimately, no matter how I might feel, Carmen is my property and she will always remain so. While she may be strong and intelligent, she’s still only three months old, and I’m the only person she knows. She is beyond precious to me. I’m responsible for her and I would never allow her to fall into the hands of anyone else. She knows what’s in books, but she’s never done any of those things. She’s never even suffered a loss great enough that she knows how to cry. Carmen doesn’t understand life like she believes she does.”
Jim understood his meaning, “Reading a book about being a king is a far cry from the experience.”
Critias pledged, “I’ll give her every gram of freedom I feel it’s safe to bestow upon her, but it falls upon me to protect her, even from herself. She’s like a child in many ways and I’m her guardian. If I did some evil to her, it was bringing her to life under these circumstances in the first place. I did it and I can’t take it back. All I can do now is to make good on my responsibility to care for her.”
Gravewalkers: Dying Time Page 12