The Robots of Gotham

by Todd McAulty

  That made me extremely nervous. I had more questions, but they could wait. “Lead on,” I told Stone Cloud, standing as close to him as I dared.

  Stone Cloud led me past the Pebble. The big machine shuffled in a circle, watching as we walked past. I didn’t feel comfortable again until we were well down the tunnel and it was out of sight. And truthfully, not even then.

  About five minutes later, Stone Cloud brought me to a heavy metal door. A badly rusted sign read e harrison chute.

  “Will this suffice?” said Stone Cloud.

  “I believe so,” I said. I tried the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “Can you assist me?” I asked.

  Stone Cloud knocked the hinges off the door with precise, deft motions. Then he hammered the left side of the heavy metal door—one quick blow that knocked the right side out by a few inches. The blow was very loud, echoing down the tunnel.

  Stone Cloud grasped the door firmly and pulled it free. I shone my light through. There was a set of stone steps leading up.

  “Thank you,” I said. “You can keep the door.”

  “I appreciate it,” said Stone Cloud.

  “Would you mind accompanying me to the pedestrian walkway, to make sure there are no additional obstacles?”

  Stone Cloud hesitated, considering. You don’t often see rational devices hesitate—they think much faster than humans. Maybe Dr. Rajapakse’s robots really weren’t the swiftest bunch. Still, it was oddly endearing.

  I stuck my head inside the doorway. It didn’t look like anyone, human or robot, had come this way in a long time. Perhaps Stone Cloud simply assumed I was doing the same thing he was—salvaging all the metal I could find.

  “Any metal chains or locks we encounter you are free to keep,” I said. You have to know when to sweeten the deal.

  “I shall accompany you,” said Stone Cloud.

  I proceeded up the stairs, and Stone Cloud followed. There was a layer of dust on the steps, and there were cobwebs—normal-sized cobwebs, thankfully—everywhere.

  “Hey, Stone Cloud. Do you know what makes the big webs down here?”

  “I do not know what they are called, but I have seen them. There are not many, but they attack in packs.”

  “Attack? They attack machines?” I said, taken aback.

  “They attack everything.”

  “What do they look like? Bugs? Spiders?”

  “They are much larger than any insect I’m familiar with. The Orbit Pebble has been making efforts to exterminate them. I have not seen any for several weeks.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  We had reached a landing where a bunch of rusted, four-foot-wide street signs were stacked. The stairs continued up to my right. I flashed my light over the signs quickly. They were green and white, and I didn’t recognize any of the street names.

  Stone Cloud showed an immediate interest in the metal. “You can have those,” I told him.

  “You do not wish to negotiate?” he asked, already starting to finger the signs.

  “We found them together, and they have no value to me.” I shone my light up the final set of stairs. The corridor at the top continued west, and I saw no immediate sign of an exit.

  “I appreciate your generosity.”

  At the top of the stairs, we proceeded east. We came across doors almost immediately. All were locked, or maybe just rusted shut. Most of them looked like service closets. The first one that looked promising, I asked Stone Cloud to open.

  It was chained shut from the other side. Stone Cloud did his trick with the rusty hinges, and soon the door was free.

  The other side was completely dark. A waist-high rusted chain dangled across the open doorway. When I shone my light through, I saw the familiar white tile floor of the pedestrian walkway. I stepped over the chain and into the corridor.

  “I believe I can make it from here,” I said.

  “May I harvest this chain?” asked Stone Cloud. Polite guy, for a robot.

  “Absolutely,” I said. “But if you wouldn’t mind, please—”

  Stone Cloud swung the bolt cutters. The chain shattered with a sound like a shotgun. I heard a loose bolt ricochet down the hallway, bouncing, bouncing, and coming to rest with an explosion of broken glass.

  “—do it quietly,” I finished.

  Stone Cloud was scooping up the broken chain, balancing it carefully with the bolt cutter. He was going to be pretty loaded down once he picked up the signs too. I flashed my light up and down the corridor. It was very similar to the walkway under our hotel. A few feet away, a wheeled hot dog stand was nudging up against a shuttered pastry shop. A watch-seller’s kiosk, cleaned of merchandise, sat in the middle of the passageway. I made note of them, in case I had to head back this way in a hurry.

  I was a little turned around, but I was pretty sure the college was left. I turned back to Stone Cloud. “Thank you for all your assistance. Pleasure doing business with you.”

  I stretched out my hand to shake hands with him. It was an odd thing to do with a robot, but it felt right under the circumstances. Stone Cloud’s sole hand was encumbered with the bolt cutter and the chain, but he extended a long finger. We shook solemnly.

  “I will await your return, to guide you back through the colony,” he said.

  “I expect to be about thirty minutes,” I said.

  “In that case, I will take the time to harvest the doors.”

  “Understood,” I said. “See you shortly.”

  I set off down the passageway. I didn’t see any signs for East Harrison or Michigan Avenue, but I hadn’t expected it to be that easy. After about five minutes I found an escalator leading up, but the passageway at the top was blocked with a sliding metal grate, locked and chained.

  “I knew I was going to miss those bolt cutters,” I muttered.

  I missed the tablet, too. It was my only clock. And it would have been useful to find an alternative route to the surface. I retraced my steps back down the escalator and kept going.

  About five minutes later, I came up against another metal fence, also chained. A brief examination showed that the chain hung slack, however—it had been cut in the middle, or broken, some time ago. I pushed the fence open and continued.

  I had to be getting close. I started spending time scanning the walls and was rewarded within a few minutes with a small sign on the left that read:

  columbia college—take michigan stairs

  I paused here to take stock of my surroundings. Without the tablet, it was much too easy to get lost down here. I had to make sure I knew how to find my way back to Stone Cloud.

  Stone Cloud. He and the robot colony were an added complication that I didn’t especially need right now. If I led the Venezuelans back to them as a result of this little theft, that would be the end of Stone Cloud’s precious veil of secrecy—and possibly the end of the colony as well.

  I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t think like that. I had a job to do, and Sergei and his team were counting on me. I’d have to rely on stealth, luck, and the endless maze of tunnels—not to mention Perez’s prohibition against exploring too deeply—to safeguard Stone Cloud’s secret.

  I continued forward and took the next escalator I found. It was motionless; climbing it led to a brightly lit hallway.

  I stopped immediately and pulled out the mask for the suit. I put it on.

  It was showtime.

  XXI

  Wednesday, March 17th, 2083

  Posted 7:18 am by Barry Simcoe

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  I spent the first few minutes adjusting the mask. Without the power cores the suit circulated no air. It was hard to breathe, and the goggles started to fog almost immediately.

  So I almost walked right past the first camera. It was up and on
the right, almost invisible. I caught it just out of the corner of my eye at the last moment.

  Good thing I saw that, I thought. That’s the first thing that’s gone according to plan all night.

  I kept walking. I was in the basement of a building. With power, it turned out, which was a little surprising. Most of the lights were out, but the hallway lights were on. Evenly spaced doors led to small dark classrooms. Narrow corridors branched off every fifty feet or so.

  According to the plan, I had to be in the building for just enough time to be plausibly responsible for the theft. That meant walking back out the way I’d come in about twenty minutes.

  However, it didn’t mean I had to take any unnecessary risks. All I had to do was find somewhere to hole up and manage to stay awake for twenty minutes. All things considered, I’d had tougher assignments.

  An ideal hiding place presented itself almost immediately. The next room I found was a small underground cafeteria. All the lights were out, but there was a buffet station near the far wall. The bottom half of the station was a sliding metal cupboard. I removed a bunch of yellowing plastic wrap, stashing it under a table, and cleared enough space to squeeze comfortably into the cupboard. I stretched out my legs and slid the metal door shut, leaving it cracked about an inch so I could spy on the corridor.

  I pulled off the mask, grateful to be able to breathe again. I let my head rest against the cool metal of the cupboard at my back and closed my eyes.

  I enjoyed less than three minutes of peace and quiet before I heard shouts and the sound of running feet in the hallway.

  Now what?

  They were Venezuelan soldiers. I watched them racing down the hall, headed the way I’d come. Bringing up the rear was Sergeant Van de Velde, she of the ready pistol and snarling manner. The woman who’d held a pistol to my head the morning the Juno attacked the hotel and who had accused me of murdering Corporal Maldonado.

  They were through the cafeteria in seconds. But not that far down the hall, I heard shouted instructions from Van de Velde and an affirmative reply. Had she just positioned a soldier to keep watch in the hallway?

  Damn it. I needed to know what was going on. But without the tablet, I had no way to get a message to Sergei.

  Unless . . .

  I rooted around in my pocket for the GSM earpiece. In the cramped space in the cupboard, that wasn’t easy. I had to unzip the suit, and snake my arm down into my pants pocket. I damn near dislocated my shoulder. But I got it out and plugged it into my ear.

  Sergei had said he wasn’t sure there would be GSM reception in the tunnels, but chances were good that I was now close enough to the surface. I turned it on, ready to risk being overheard by the soldiers with a whispered call to Sergei. Instead, I heard voices coming from the device immediately.

  “—encountered Venezuelan patrol. I believe they are tapping into cameras.” It was Sergei’s voice, fast and urgent. “They will spot you as soon as you emerge. We are leaving now—”

  I heard gunfire through the earpiece. Shouts, running. Then suddenly, silence.

  Oh shit. What had Sergei and his team run into?

  My heart was suddenly hammering. Was Sergei caught? That wasn’t a contingency we had considered. I had to find out what was happening, and where. I had to help him.

  The earpiece sputtered to life again.

  “Barry, stay away from college. Repeat, stay away from college.”

  “Sergei?” I said. “I hear you—”

  “We have encountered Venezuelan patrol. I believe they are tapping into cameras. They will spot you as soon as you emerge. We are leaving now—”

  The gunfire again and then running. Exactly the same as before.

  It was a recording. I was listening to something that had already happened. Perhaps as long as an hour ago.

  Sergei was beyond help now. I needed information, and I wasn’t going to get it hiding in a cupboard. Whatever had happened, I had to get back to the hotel—as quickly and as stealthily as possible.

  A Venezuelan soldier strode into the cafeteria, rifle at his shoulder. He came from the hallway I’d seen them all run into. He glanced around suspiciously.

  He must have heard me answer Sergei. I shrank into the back of the cupboard.

  Sergei’s voice came again. I pulled the radio out of my ear. In the confined space of the cupboard, Sergei sounded tinny and ridiculously loud. I fumbled with the unit, quickly turning it off.

  The soldier had heard something. He was walking around, checking behind tables. Shit, I thought. I slid the cupboard door closed another half inch, as quietly as I could.

  I wasn’t given much time to fret. About a minute later, Sergeant Van de Velde and her team returned. I only had a narrow window, but I could see her giving orders to her team in Spanish. She was quick, concise, and comfortable with command. This is a woman who has her shit together, I thought.

  In all the excitement of Van de Velde’s new instructions, the soldier posted in the cafeteria seemed to forget that he’d heard something—if, indeed, he ever had. He accepted his new assignment with satisfaction, and left with several others out the far exit.

  Van de Velde collapsed into a chair. I couldn’t tell if she was alone. She pulled off her backpack, which looked heavy, and pinched the bridge of her nose. Then she pulled a black stylus out of her pocket and inserted it into the watch on her left wrist.

  She was taking a bio reading, I realized. I couldn’t tell what she was measuring. Her blood sugar? Temperature? Heart rate? Whatever it was, the result didn’t make her happy. She pulled a water bottle out of the pack and started drinking.

  A soldier on her left spoke. Not alone, then. She finished drinking and answered casually, her head down.

  It didn’t look like they were going anywhere for a while. Damn. I could wait them out, if I had to. I settled into the cupboard, getting as comfortable as possible.

  What did it mean that Sergei was broadcasting a recording? I pondered that for a few minutes and then tentatively concluded it could be a positive development. If he’d had time to set up and broadcast the recording, that had to mean he hadn’t been immediately captured by whoever—or whatever—had been chasing him.

  Probably Van de Velde and her squad, I realized. What were they doing here? Had someone tipped them off? Was it just bad luck? Or was Hayduk close and just waiting for me to return to the hotel to throw me in jail?

  These are the kinds of things that go through your head when you’re stuck in a metal cupboard for twenty minutes.

  After about eight more minutes had passed, the soldiers she’d sent off returned and gave their report. Van de Velde stood up, shouldering her backpack again. She gave a new set of instructions, and then everyone moved out, through the far exit.

  I waited in the cupboard for another ten minutes. Fifteen. The soldiers didn’t return.

  They would eventually, I knew. Right now they were probably reviewing camera footage, confirming I hadn’t snuck back into the tunnels. If I were Van de Velde, I’d position soldiers at all the exits and do a room-by-room search until I found the intruder.

  I was already late for my rendezvous with Stone Cloud. I pulled the mask back on. The door made a soft metallic rattle as it slid open, and I climbed out of the cupboard.

  I checked the room and the nearby corridors methodically, for both soldiers and cameras. I had to assume they were watching and would come running the moment I passed in front of a camera lens. The damn mask was fogging already, but I had no intention of taking it off.

  My plan was simple: get back into the tunnels as quickly as possible. There was at least one camera between me and my escape route. I had to move fast, make sure that I was long gone by the time they spotted me and got down here to investigate.

  I fought the urge to run. It wouldn’t do me any good to blunder into one of Van de Velde’s soldiers. Getting out of here shouldn’t be particularly difficult, as long as I was quick, methodical, and careful. I scoped out each corri
dor before moving into the open, and treated every door with suspicion.

  I made it halfway to the tunnels before running into Van de Velde and her entire team.

  They were in an intersecting corridor, about sixty feet away and headed my way. They were stealthy; I had no clue they were there until I peeked around the corner and spotted them.

  I had to make a split-second decision. Take a chance that they hadn’t seen me, duck back the way I’d come, and find another hiding place; or dash across the intersection, make a break for the underground, and try to lose them in the tunnels.

  I ran for it.

  I knew they’d spotted me the instant I started moving. They’d come to a dead stop in the corridor, and Van de Velde was in the act of directing her team silently, almost certainly giving them orders to ambush me. Two soldiers had raised their rifles; one actually squeezed off a shot, which went wide. A split second later I was through the intersection, out of their line of fire, and sprinting for the tunnels.

  Running in the combat suit was shit. It was loose where it should have been tight, and tight where it should have been loose. But the worst of it was the mask. It was like running with a paper bag over your head. I was half-blind and gasping for air in seconds.

  I heard shouting behind me. Van de Velde. Perhaps ordering her men after me, although I think it’s just as likely she was screaming at the asshole who’d taken a shot, for firing without her say-so. Give ’em hell, Sergeant.

  There were a few things in my favor. For one, there were doors every fifty to sixty feet along the corridor. That slowed me down, sure. But at no point did the pursuing soldiers have a clear shot at my back. It also made it difficult to be certain exactly where I had gone.

  On the other hand, those Venezuelan bastards knew how to run. They were young and in shape, and they weren’t encumbered by a thoroughly useless combat suit. I heard their pounding footsteps behind me immediately. The chase was on.

  In less than thirty seconds, I was in the long corridor leading to the underground walkway. When I reached the motionless escalator at the end, I risked a glance behind.