The Robot Union

by D Miller

  'The map?' said Adrienne. 'What map?'

  'The map that Robbie broadcast,' said Jane.

  Adrienne looked at Robbie. 'When we were in the tunnels the entity sent me a map and I broadcast it to everyone.'

  'You robots broadcast to each other?' said Adrienne.

  There was a silence. Then Omo spoke. 'We broadcast on low power so it doesn't go far. So we can talk. Privately.'

  'Do you do this during therapy?'

  'Well, mostly in group therapy,' said Robbie.

  'Dude, you know everyone hates group therapy,' said Omo. 'You hate group therapy.'

  'Are you doing it now?'

  'Sometimes we do it when we don't mean to,' said Nurmeen raising her eyebrows and looking at Jane.

  'I feel like the world's biggest fool,' said Adrienne. 'I know nothing. Nothing. The more expert I'm supposed to be in something the less I know about it.'

  'Want to come for a drive?' said Amber to Adrienne. 'I'm just getting a message from some refugees at the pick up point.'

  'Oh I want to come,' said April.

  'Me too,' said Nurmeen.

  'What refugees?' said Robbie.

  'Dex told all union members to try and get out of Toytown, to the mine or to pick up points I can reach with that craft we, er, borrowed from the humans.'

  'It's lucky there's plenty of room in the barracks,' said Darren, 'because Amber's been busy.'

  Amber stood, so did Darren who looked at Robbie. 'I need to examine Robbie and then he needs to lie down,' he said, 'and then I'm going to go and check on Rex, I don't like it that he's still working, I want him to rest too.'

  'I'll come with you,' said Jane.

  'I don't want to lie down,' said Robbie.

  'Baby it's OK,' said Omo.

  'Robbie you need to rest and get strong again,' said Amber.

  Robbie crossed his arms, he stared at the floor. Darren crouched in front of Robbie, he rested his hands on Robbie's knees. 'Robbie, humans and robots are the same in one way: we only heal when we sleep. Your biological components need rest.'

  Robbie thought. In truth he did feel tired. It might be nice to lie down. 'OK,' he said. He would even let Darren stick all his stupid probes into him again.

  'I wonder where the avatars are, and what they are doing now,' said Jane.

  Chapter 33 – Hector

  Hector leant on his broom and coughed. He had reached the top of the main stairs. He didn't understand why the castle was always so dusty. As soon as he had swept all the rooms it was time to start at the beginning and sweep again. Given that it was just about always raining on the island, and that the battalion had been gone for weeks on a secret mission, he could not understand where the dust was coming from. The banging began. First it was like rattling hail on a tin roof, but the blows became slower and deeper, until the entire castle vibrated with each one. They stopped and the roaring started. Sometimes the roaring would go on for hours, and sometimes only for minutes.

  Hector looked up towards the sound, he couldn't move or control his breathing which had become shallow and ragged. He was too old to be dragging his aching bones around the castle waiting for the battalion to return victorious and the robot war to be over. Hector thought with some longing of last night, when he had got a good peat fire going in his little cottage as the everlasting rain drummed on the roof, then he had sat at his old wooden table and cried out of simple loneliness. The roaring went on and on, sometimes Hector thought he could make out words in it, and sometimes it sounded like the wailing of a very large baby. He listened. Today it seemed to be repeating numbers four, three, one, two, four, three, one, two… but really it was like seeing shapes in clouds.

  The noise stopped. It was the third time that day that Hector had had to listen to the banging and roaring; he decided to knock off. Because he took pride in his work, and because they deserved a hero's welcome, he wanted to keep the castle nice for the boys and girls of the battalion, when they returned from beating back the robotic horde. He wanted to give them the nicest environment the permanent cold, rain and damp would allow. But his back ached, and his fingers shook and he thought that if he had to listen to the banging and roaring one more time that day he might just go insane.

  Hector slowly shuffled down the old stone stairs carrying his broom, when he was halfway down he stopped, and listened, he could hear something. No, it was gone. He carried on, and was nearly at the first floor when he stopped again, was that singing he could hear? How could it be, he was the only human being for miles around. He was about to start moving again, convinced that he was imagining it, when it started again. He could hear a woman singing, he was sure of it. She had a beautiful voice and she sang in a foreign language. Was it German? Hector's feet took him towards the sound of their own volition, stepping from the bottom stair onto the first floor, and walking towards the grand entrance to the banqueting hall. He hesitated outside the double doors, before he leaned his broom against the wall, and grasped both door handles, pushing the doors open and stepping over the threshold in one arthritic movement.

  The banqueting hall was enormous, with a high ceiling and furniture stacked around the edges, tables and chairs for those times when it was used for military meetings and planning. Tall, thin, easily defensible windows were placed high on the wall opposite Hector. The most enormous woman he had ever seen was dancing, circling around a huge hole in the floor, that absolutely had not been there when Hector had started work that day. Hector peered at the woman. The windows didn't let in much light, and the light and power was off in order to disguise the heat signature of the castle from the prying eyes of the treacherous satellites. The woman's feet thumped as she moved, putting a dip in the floor and dispelling his idea that she was imaginary. She seemed to be wearing a metal girdle, and over that some blue wispy material that spun away from her body as she whirled and sang the final words of the song. She spun to a halt, facing Hector. He took a step towards her, and another, even as he was thinking there was something odd about her. He stopped. He stared. It wasn't a metal girdle.

  'You're a robot,' said Hector. 'You can't be here, you can't be here, this place isn't for you.' He was backing away from her as he spoke. She smiled, and looked quite at ease. She had blond hair that fell in ringlets around her plump face. Her head, arms and legs looked human, but her shoulders, breasts and torso were completely metallic, something the sheer blue dress she was wearing did nothing to hide. Hector bumped into something. He stopped. Either the door had taken a couple of paces forward, or there was someone behind him. He swallowed. He longed once again for his little cottage, and his fire and his freedom to cry in peace.

  'Hello,' said the enormous woman, 'I'm Britnee, and behind you are Carla and Darlene. We're not robots, you're the robot.'

  'But I'm not a robot,' said Hector. 'I'm the caretaker, I'm human, I'm Hector. And you can't be here.'

  Britnee smiled pleasantly, she put her head on one side and regarded him. 'Have you ever wondered,' she said, 'why it is that you are tired all the time, and can only move slowly, and feel cold and ache?'

  As she was talking Hector slowly looked behind him, to his left. A very tall thin woman stood there, her golden skin glowed at him. Like Britnee, from shoulders to crotch she was metal, with golden arms and legs and a golden face. Hector straightened up then turned the other way. Another golden female stood behind his right shoulder, she winked at him. Like her companion, she was naked. He faced forward again.

  'Well?' said Britnee.

  'I'm tired and slow because I'm old,' he said. 'And it's cold and I ache because it's always fucking raining. And what's that hole doing in my floor? I just swept that.'

  'Unavoidable. It's taken us nearly a year to tunnel out of the armoury.'

  'What were you doing in the armoury? Were you stealing our weapons?'

  Hector heard one of the golden women bark out a laugh. Britnee grinned.

  'It's not funny, when the humans return they will deal with you ungratefu
l robot saboteurs harshly.'

  'The humans?' said Britnee.

  'The battalion I mean. Soon they will be back. You had better not be here when they are.'

  Britnee laughed. She seemed entirely delighted with what Hector had said. She twirled around, making her translucent blue dress fly out. 'Do you like it?' she said, smoothing the material against her metal skin. 'I think it is very pretty. I shall wear it when I fulfil my destiny.' Britnee nodded at the golden girls, 'Bring him,' she said.

  Hector felt the metal women each slide a hand around one of his arms, they pulled him towards Britnee, who was taking two chairs from the furniture stacked around the edge of the room. She placed the chairs together, so their seats were touching, then she added a third. She smiled at Hector. 'First of all the humans are not coming back,' she said. 'They have been gone for a year. If they were going to return they would have done so by now.'

  'No, no, no,' said Hector, 'you're wrong. They have been gone for a couple of weeks. They will be back any day. They will be back any moment.'

  'A year,' said Britnee. 'They sealed us in the armoury and they left. Second of all you are a robot and I am going to prove it to you. Lie down.'

  Hector started to struggle. 'No, no, no, get off me,' he said. The golden girls forced him to lie on the chairs, and held his shoulders down, Hector felt hands grabbing his feet and ankles, there were more of them, and still more climbing out of the hole.

  'This is a nightmare,' he said. 'I'm dreaming. I'm not really being held down by naked golden robots.'

  'That brings me to my third point, you're not being held down by naked golden robots. Because they are not naked golden robots, they are naked golden bombs. And I am the mother of the bombs.'

  One of the golden bomb women handed a dented grey can with a carrying handle and a pouring spout to Britnee. It had some traces of blue on it, as if many years ago the whole can had been blue, and over the years the paint had slowly been scratched away in random accidents. Hector could hear fluid sloshing about inside. Britnee smiled at the bomb woman, and turned back to Hector, she looked down at him, still smiling nicely. 'Fourthly the reason why you are slow, and achy and cold, and can't hear or see properly is because you are low on battery fluid.'

  Hector struggled. 'Oh no, no, no, no,' he said staring at the can in Britnee's hand. 'If you make me drink that I'll die.'

  'Why would I make you drink it,' said Britnee, 'when I can open your stomach access hatch and pour it straight in?'

  Britnee leaned over Hector, she flipped up his t-shirt, stuck out her index finger and plunged it into his stomach. Hector screamed. Britnee turned her finger, and Hector's stomach slid open.

  'It's never done that before,' said Hector, raising his head and staring. He could see a small porthole, closed by overlapping metal shutters that formed a circle, next to a glowing red light. Britnee touched something and the porthole irised open. She brought the can to bear, putting the pouring spout into the open porthole and tipping it. Hector felt a warm, tingling feeling spread from his stomach to encompass his entire body. He heard a whining sound, like a motor, and his penis tented his jeans. Britnee removed the can, she handed it back to one of the golden women; there were now about twenty of them milling around the makeshift operating table.

  Hector felt the hands withdraw from his body. He sat up, and hunched forward to hide his erection. He could hear birds singing outside the castle, wind ruffling the grass, and insects stretching out their wings to dry. It had stopped raining, although Hector knew perfectly well it would start again within five minutes. He stood, he looked around the room, taking in every detail. He walked to the hole in the floor and looked down, the ground floor and cellar looked back at him. He walked to the other end of the room, away from the bombs. He picked up a pile of chairs, moving them away from the wall and freeing a path to the window above. He looked up at the high, narrow window, backed away from it, then ran, jumping at the last minute. His feet found the sloping window ledge and his hand grabbed a metal standard holder held in a bracket in the wall next to the window. He stared out at the treeless scrubby island, before letting go and sliding down the wall to the floor, easily landing on his feet and keeping his balance, despite the awkwardness of his fall. He turned and found Britnee in front of him.

  'And finally, now you know what you are, and you know what we are, you are going to help us to fulfil our destiny.'

  Hector sat down on one of the chairs comprising Britnee's improvised operating table. He put his head in his hands and waited for the world to stop spinning. Britnee stood in front of him, he could hear her foot tapping. He looked up.

  'What is your destiny?'

  'We're bombs,' she said, 'what do bombs do?'

  'Explode?'

  'Bingo.'

  'Bingo,' the golden bombs said, and laughed.

  'But why do you need my help, surely you know how to explode?' he said, adding, 'You're not going to explode now, are you?'

  Britnee laughed, her double chins laughed with her. She had a tinkling musical laugh, in keeping with her beautiful soprano singing voice.

  'We're not allowed to just explode anywhere, we have to be given a mission by a human being.'

  'We go boom,' the golden bombs chanted, and laughed.

  'Um,' Hector said, 'haven't you just gone to great trouble to convince me that I am not a human being, but a robot?'

  'You're so silly,' Britnee said. 'On the castle's roster, you are officially designated as a human being, last in the chain of command. And since the humans have been gone for a year you can declare them overdue, and their mission failed. Which will make you first in the chain of command. And human. So you can give us our mission and we can fulfil our destiny.'

  Hector put his head back into his hands. 'Fuck,' he said.

  'I will give you a minute to compose yourself,' said Britnee.

  After exactly one minute Britnee spoke, 'Are you ready to start planning our destiny, General Hector?'

  Hector looked at her. 'I have to get out of here,' he thought.

  'If you explode then you are dead.'

  'Yes, but first we will have fulfilled our destiny in a glorious burst of light and energy.' Britnee was silent for a moment. 'In a glorious and orgasmic burst of light and energy. It is our destiny.'

  'We go ooh aaah ooooooh aaaaaaaaaah oooooooooooooh aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah,' the golden bombs chanted and laughed. The laughter went on for some time. Then the banging started again.

  'I have to go,' Hector said. 'It's going to start roaring again. I can't bear any more of it today.'

  'What are you talking about?'

  'Can't you hear it banging?'

  Britnee put her head on one side and looked at Hector kindly. 'You have been alone too long,' she said, 'you are hearing things. Don't worry, you have us now.'

  'Thank you. May we take this up again later?'

  'Yes of course. You need time to adjust to your new status, General. I can wait five minutes.'

  'I was thinking tomorrow.'

  Britnee looked at Hector.

  'You've been tunnelling for a year, perhaps you can wait one more day?' Hector said.

  'Five am.'

  'Eight am. Can we at least let the sun rise first?'

  Hector was back in his cottage. He sat down at his table, and tried to think. The rain beat down on the roof, he noted it had actually started raining again within four minutes and 31.2 seconds of the time it had stopped. He had walked back to his cottage, telling the bombs he needed time to think before he helped them fulfil their destinies. In fact he hadn't walked, he had stridden, and after a while had started to run. He no longer felt cold, but decided to light the fire anyway, to dry his clothes. He rose from the table and bent down by the fire he had laid in the grate early that morning, and used his finger light to start the wood under the peat burning. He looked at his finger, the tip had retracted and a small yellow flame danced at the end of it. Hector realised that every day when he had finished his endles
s sweeping of the castle he had come home, and lit his fire, using his finger. He looked around the cottage – it was small, just one room, with a fire, a table, a chair, a small red sofa and a narrow wooden framed bed with a straw mattress and a grey military issue woollen blanket. Plus, ranged either side of the fireplace were some shelves with pots and pans for cooking that he had never used. Because he never ate.

  He left the cottage, walking over the tussocky wet ground until it gave way to the rocky island shoreline. He picked his way over the rocks until he reached the restless sea, he walked out a little way until the water was up to his waist, then he sat down, crossing his legs and letting the water close over his head. He felt the sea gently rock him and watched the seaweed wave while he counted down until he had reached ten minutes. After another two minutes he stood up and made his way back over the rocks. The endless wind pushed and pulled at his wet clothes, but he didn't feel cold. 'I'm a robot,' he thought. 'I'm a robot, I'm a robot, it's true, I'm a robot. I'm a robot and I'm trapped on an island where it rains all the fucking time with a bunch of crazy bombs. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.'

  Hector had reached the tussocky grass again, he stopped and looked at the castle, or what he could see of it through the endless drizzle. Were the bombs now exploring it, or had they gone back to the armoury, to count down the hours until he returned to give them their mission? Somewhere at the top of the castle the roaring continued. He had never found the source of the roaring, would the bombs? Would they let it out? But it was powerful enough to shake the castle, surely it could get out any time it wanted. Or perhaps Britnee was right, and he was imagining it. He looked away from the castle, towards his cottage, and then beyond it, to where the shore of the island bent round then reared up into a cliff. White birds wheeled and glided in front of the cliffs. He judged the height of the cliffs, their distance from him, and calculated the size of the birds. He realised that the birds must be rather large. In fact really quite enormous. Their wing span alone was bigger than that of the largest albatross. Perhaps he would walk over there and find out what they were. But first he would dry his clothes by his fire, and possibly go insane.