Anatali: Ragnarok

by A. C. Edwards

  The hobo’s jacket sagged off his shoulders, open at his emaciated chest. His leathery mask barely stretched as his expression twisted from a scowl to a toothless snarl. Coal eyes glared, bugging out with unsettling intensity.

  “Dirty water!” he shouted, competing with the splashing and clicking of his companions.

  Twelve silver beetles held pace with the current, each metallic shell a half size larger than Kahn’s two-foot girth. In a wide U, a pair climbed both shores, their paddle-legs tapping on concrete. Pincers clicked, pairs of overlapping sabers. The hobo had mounted one, his knees underwater, gripping its antennae with one hand, pointing up the canal with the other.

  “You gotta be kidding me,” Calvin said with a sideways glance.

  BeetleBots were a regular nuisance to kids partying along the canal, as were the vagrants living under its overpasses. After a pair of unfortunate drownings last summer, the maintenance bots had reported every trespass, and often corralled drunken teens streetside to the police’s waiting vans. How the homeless had been avoiding the things was anyone’s guess. Jessica had never seen this many together before. It was likely the canal’s entire janitorial fleet.

  “Unable to access the maintenance network.” Nicky stood his ground.

  Trent backpedaled from the beetles. “I’m thinking we should go.”

  “Out of our way, Mister,” Jessica said. “We’re just passing through.”

  “Devils!” An incoherent string of babble followed the word. His antennae hand flashed blue. His mount jerked forward.

  An arc of flame jumped the canal, knocking Trent’s bots into each other. In a jumbled mass of legs and broken plating, they landed upside down, smoldering, sliding down the slope. Nicky sprayed a glob of foam over Calvin’s pair while punching forward with his axe. By the time Jessica’s eyes caught up with the action, five BeetleBots were damaged but six had vanished, replaced by rippled bulges under the current.

  In a heartbeat, Jessica was flung into a breathless dangle high above Nicky’s head along with her furry friends. She cursed, but saw why. Bladed pincers slashed at his back and belly, one beetle climbing his treads and onto Jessica’s previous perch, the medical box. The FireBot twirled, snaking arms in and out of the water and pounding with his axe.

  Trent sprinted up the slope, ten steps ahead of a scorched beetle but losing ground fast. On the opposite shore, Calvin now used the foamed bots as shields during a ring-around-the-rosy chase. He shot from the hip; the fireball streaked at the hobo.

  The man’s beetle dunked far beneath the water as a massive splash intercepted the blast; a submerged bot back-flipped under the wave’s crest. Jessica could still see the crown of stringy white hair and jet black eyes—the hobo stared not at his attacker, but at her.

  She gritted her teeth and pointed the clipper at an awkward angle, from her neck. A line of silver burst from the clipper, its zing splitting the air and a new wave of water. The recoil sent the barrel to her chin, the steel gashing her skin. Through stars and mist, she saw the round pierce his BeetleBot’s head in a shower of sparks. It didn’t go down. Ayla’s barks didn’t stop.

  Nicky’s assailant kicked away all attempts at wrapping. It reared back on its hind legs, sure-footed beyond the FireBot’s jerks and jiggles. The axe swung down, but not in time to prevent twin-blades from sinking into his reservoir, puncturing his belly in a high-pressure gush. The beetle shattered, knocked clean in half and instantly washed away by Nicky’s water.

  Trent shouted.

  From the top of the slope, he flopped on his ass and hooked his bot’s back leg. Tugging on the stick, he pulled his weight around, dragging them both into a slide.

  “Catch!” Nicky tossed the axe to Jessica. The best she could manage was a free-hand-and-elbow hug—it must have outweighed her by thirty pounds.

  His arms flailed out as he rolled towards Trent, crushing a beetle under his treads. When the man’s feet touched the water, Nicky snatched him by the hips and snapped him to his shoulder, speeding back across the canal. The hobo had since floated to the opposite shore, directing the swarm to Calvin—six against one.

  Jessica’s head snapped upstream. What the fuck?

  The water level receded, revealing the submerged bots. A distant roar filled her ears, the echo growing louder by the second. From up the canal, a blurry green dot fattened from a speck to a blob.

  Calvin scrambled up the hill, firing a barrage at his attackers. Balls of burning jelly splashed to Jessica, sizzling through her jacket. She couldn't help but scream. The bots were knocked back to the shallow waters. The hobo hesitated—as did his beetles.

  Amidst a shower of filth, Nicky hit the slope, his reservoir draining in his wake. Another tentacle wrapped Calvin at the knees, slamming the boy’s shoulder to pavement before lifting him airborne.

  Not a moment too soon.

  A wave of murk crashed into the BeetleBots and hobo, washing them under the overpass and towards the bay. Nicky skidded backwards, his treads invoking smoke and steam in his ascent, the water line mere feet behind him. When they reached the canal’s top, his ‘legs’ were still inches underwater.

  * * *

  “I don’t give a fuck how good his aim is, get that gun from him!” Jessica pushed a finger in Trent’s chest, her clipper still buzzing.

  “He saved my ass and his own. What’s your problem?”

  “This!” She bunched up her jacket sleeve, revealing a nasty burn near her elbow. “Not just that, but he picked the fight a second time. For all the good it did, we should have rolled away. Now Nicky’s all broken!”

  “I concur,” the FireBot said, his belly torn and empty.

  “If it’d been Ayla, I’d shoot him in the fucking face!”

  Kahn stalked the brothers as if they were new prey.

  “You saw his eyes.” Calvin’s expression hardened, his cheeks red. He gripped around the trigger, though it was still pointed to the ground. “He was going to attack anyway. All I did was get the first shot.”

  “You don’t know that,” she said, gesturing with the clipper.

  “Trent—”

  “It’s cool, Calvin,” the brother raised his hands, “just put it down—you too Jessie—we’ll talk. This isn’t us two-versus-you; it’s you four against us. We’re just trying to get out of here. Spreading the weapons around increases all our odds. We’re nothing but meat for Kahn if we’re bare-fisted.”

  A rumble from the tiger seemed to agree. Rather than her Dvorak, Ayla focused on the clipper, nose tipped in the air, tail wagging. Jessica understood—the pup made her point. The incessant buzzing stopped, replaced by the sound of rushing water.

  The canal had nearly overfilled its banks. The water now ran blue, clean, receding by the moment. Trent said, “Nice work, Nicky.”

  “Thank you, Vidar.”

  “Oh, so I get my name?”

  “Aesir brothers arrive at Vigrond, having bore witness to the serpent’s awakening. As an Anatali employee, saying you are children of Odin, and his avengers; it’s a small leap.”

  “I appreciate your vote of confi—”

  “Wait a sec. Nicky did that?” Down the slope, Jessica nursed her arm with canal water. The pain was minimal. It must not have been as bad as she thought.

  “I was unable to access the maintenance network, but I was able to request a purge of Jordan Reservoir via emergency channels.”

  “So you’re not completely locked out,” Trent said.

  “If I am being tracked, being blacklisted would hamper the system’s efforts, so no. Fourteen of my Mark Seven siblings are still active. Five have been…disabled.”

  “Well, get their asses over here, we could use a little help,” Jessica stood and stretched. Dawn had long since broken, the sun creating a humid fog along City Centre’s skyline.

  “Many are involved as I am, accompanying survivors such as yourselves.” Nicky inspected his punctures with vigorous tugs. Was his belly repairable? “Others are combating a stri
ng of fires leading west from—”

  “Marsden?”

  “Yes. The remainder are following standard protocol, resupplying safe-houses and detaining Dvoraks along with the Mark Sixes, as is their prerogative.”

  “What do they plan on doing with them?” Trent asked the question before she could.

  “Unknown. They are silent other than their current positions and plan code: DE008”

  “Detainment and execution,” Jessica remembered the Mark Sixes from the firehouse.

  The FireBot didn’t reply, nor did Trent, who stooped to pet a re-relaxed Kahn. Calvin was back to his brooding, plasma rifle now slung behind his back.

  “Fuck it.” She summoned Ayla to her side. “Let’s dip into downtown for a raid. I don’t know about you guys, but we’re starving.”

  ~ 14 ~

  Food and flirting

  November 30, 4124 — 9:00 AM

  “Damn. Should we get a shovel, or just leave her here?” Trent averted his eyes from the wriggling mass of severed and disjointed limbs.

  “As long as it ain’t making noise, I say leave it be.” Jessica cleaned her field hockey stick on a curtain, the black blood quite sticky this time. Calvin did the same with a fireplace poker and tested its hook—tap-tap—on the mantle.

  “You’re better than I thought,” he said.

  “Well, yeah. Ayla and me made it a day alone.” She winked at Trent. “Looks don’t mean much to these fuckers.”

  “Still don’t.” Calvin narrowed his eyes.

  “But ain’t it getting hot in here?” Jessica fanned herself, opened her jacket, and arched her back. With the sweat, her thin top clung to every dip and curve. Calvin blushed an easy red, the look in his eyes as much angry as anything. She wasn't normally like this, but, “You’re too easy, kid. What would your darling back home think?”

  “She’d kick your ass.”

  “Oh, quit picking on him.” Trent laughed. “Let’s get some food and see if we can’t find something useful here. Think there’re any others?”

  “Let’s ask.”

  She walked from the den to the townhouse’s main hall only to find dog and tiger squared off against a domestic cat, the mobile dead sort. The cow-spotted monster leapt and circled, batted away at every pounce towards Ayla. Her guardian, Kahn, shouldered back and forth, though never attacked, only defended—was he toying with it? Was Ayla? The dog looked back to Jessica.

  “No, we can’t keep it.” Heaven knew they had enough to keep track of.

  Woof.

  Kahn slapped the cat against the wall and pinned it by the neck. With a crunch, it was headless, then disemboweled, broken into thirds. Not really what she had in mind, but as its severed forequarter ran in place, she probably couldn’t have done much better. It seemed everyone had value today.

  Trent turned the corner behind her and winced. “Goddamn!”

  Jessica raised an eyebrow “How’d you even make it to City Centre?”

  “A little luck, a lot of Calvin, and a shit-ton of running. Nothing like this.”

  “It’s a new game then.” She watched Ayla pant, sniffing towards the kitchen. “I think that was it on the ground floor.”

  “So we should—”

  “Send your brother to tell Nicky the good news, then scout him upstairs. Ayla’s clueless with basements, but she tracks open scents well-enough—she would have caught the second floor by now.”

  Without argument, Calvin ascended the stairs alone; Nicky continued to guard the perimeter. Jessica opened the fridge, grinning. Ayla pranced at her heels.

  “Pizzas for breakfast?” She rolled a pair from the freezer while claiming a gallon of water for her and her friend. Jessica refilled the cat bowl between chugs. Ayla drank in rapid laps.

  “Only if we save enough for the muscle.” Trent nodded upstairs.

  “You mean me, right?” She flexed a bandaged arm, her jacket hanging on the kitchen wall.

  “Sure, that’s it.”

  “Chauvinist.”

  “A joke. But really, why are you so good at this? Calvin has more experience than I’d like with hurting people, but you’re so…”

  “It’s the boobs, isn’t it?

  “Cute,” he said, his smirk warming to a smile. “You’re too pretty to be this strong.”

  “Like I said: chauvinist.” Jessica laughed and peered into the pressure-oven’s window. The pizza plumped, bombarded by orange and yellow light. “But you are sweet. You missed it: this time yesterday I was running Market Street in my bra and panties.”

  “So that’s why you’re barefoot. I’ve been wondering that since I first saw you.”

  “About that. How’d you hook up with Nicky and us in the first place?”

  “Unless we end up getting each other killed, I’d call it a lucky break.” Trent rinsed a towel in the sink and took a trucker-bath, washing his face, arms, and hands. “We were walking northeast from ground zero. It didn’t take an hour to start running into those things. I knew what to expect, so we never got close enough for a real chase. Once we got to city limits, Calvin took over—he’s the street-kid, if you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Still, this is foreign turf for the both of you, right?”

  “Yeah, but he has good instincts—great ones, actually. He kept us off the main streets, cutting through parks, hugging the rail lines. Dvoraks don't tend to wander too far from home or work, places they'd remember.”

  “Smart. I did the same.”

  “We didn’t have a clue where we were going, but an airlift to The Mission was my first thought, and for that we needed a tall downtown building to signal from, or the ground-base itself. Those were the best odds, and we took the rest as it came. We spent the first night in some kid’s tree house, eating his snacks.”

  “And the second day?” The oven hit auto-cool, dispersing pepperoni aroma throughout the room. She’d never tasted the pork variety before, but the smell made her mouth water and stomach cramp.

  “Under the rail line, we entered City Centre, a nice change from the prowlers in the south. Calvin likes speed over provisions, so we never found any guns, not that we knew where to look. We were hoping they’d find us. With you, they kind of did.”

  Jessica bit her tongue. “You’re welcome.”

  “Don’t be like that. We ran into Nicky and your friends close to that cemetery. We were going to hole up there for the night anyway—logic over superstition. Ayla walked with the bot and your dead cat, not being carried like you, so we gave him the benefit of the doubt, even as weird as your crew is. We offered to look you over. He explained your situation, and later, the mess at the firehouse. Said he just rolled away when his buddies weren’t looking.”

  “Sounds like Nicky.”

  “I don’t know what it was like when you met, but you should be thanking him. He’s had how many opportunities to sell you out? Four? Forty? I bet you think he’s calling those junk bots now…get over yourself. Give him some credit.”

  “Gosh, another lecture? Food’s ready.” She removed the pizza from the oven, fumbling it beneath its crust. “Remember, I’m a local. I’ve been around bots and AI all my life. You might have some big-city insight on his motives, but I really don’t know shit about their directives—he’s only as good as his system. I think you understand how that went down.”

  “I’m not clued in with Nome’s Fourth Division techs, but I can promise that Anatali Corporation as a whole isn’t that devious, that evil.” Trent exhaled between each of Calvin’s double-stomps from the second floor. After the sixth time, his shoulders finally relaxed to a slump. “This was a terrible accident, and this, now, is no experiment. The bots may be confused, but order will return—”

  “But where’s the goddamn govern—”

  “But until it does, don’t count on help. It’s our job to survive, and we can’t expect anyone else to save us.”

  “Slick as always,” Jessica said, using a chef’s knife in lieu of a proper pizza cutter. “How old are y
ou? Thirty? Three-hundred?”

  “Twenty-four, just out of Uni. You?”

  “Twenty-one.” She presented the pan, stealing a slice en route. “So your brother really is a kid?”

  “Your age, nineteen.” Trent paused with the pan inches away. “Shouldn’t we say grace?”

  “What the fuck for?” Jessica chomped a bite.

  “What’s your deal, anyway? I’m curious.” He lifted a slice, talking though his meal. “I can’t say we have a lot of trust. You have this loose-cannon thing about you. It’s like you‘d abandon anyone you needed to.”

  “I would.”

  “But you’re tolerating us. Why?”

  “Because you’re pretty cute yourself.” Jessica winked, then swapped to a shrug. “I’m not some bitch, not like your brother thinks. And I’m more than a pack leader. I won Sportsman of the Year, Alaska High Schools, my senior year.”

  “Really? Maybe Calvin knows you—by reputation anyway—he just graduated, track team, no honors though.”

  “Anchorage, right? I doubt it. It was a low-participation year. I filled in our gaps, and the competition wasn’t that stiff. Swim, volleyball, rugby, track, tennis, kendo, soccer, field hockey, basketball, you name it. I wasn’t a star, but I always made the team.”

  “Impressive,” Trent said between bites. “That explains the body, but what about the mind?”

  “Like I said,” she dropped twin slices on the tile for Ayla, who attacked with more fervor than she’d seen in a day, “I’m not just some bitch with a stick. I get teamwork. I haven’t killed anyone who was alive, and I get a lot of help. I listen—to the dog first, everyone else later. She’s more valuable than you, definitely better than me.”

  “Brutal, yet humble. That’s you.”

  “That’s life. That’s humanity.” Jessica smiled, petting her only friend.

  “Did you go to college? I’m sure Sportsman of the Year got you scholarship offers. Athletes are rare, even more now than when I was in High School.”

  “Nah. I never cared about school. I didn’t see the point. I started working—my family needed the money.”