Blood and Iron p-2

by Tony Ballantyne

  Blood and Iron

  ( Penrose - 2 )

  Tony Ballantyne

  Tony Ballantyne

  Blood and Iron

  My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?

  I have cried desperately for help but still it does not come.

  During the day I call to you, my God but you do not answer,

  I call at night, but get no rest…

  From Psalm 22

  The Story of Kavan and Karel

  This is the story of Kavan and Karel, who fought when they were a thousand miles apart and endured a bitter truce when together.

  Both represented their states, though neither was of their states.

  At the time of their making, Artemis and Turing City were the two greatest states on the continent of Shull. The robots of Turing City were made to respect themselves and others as individuals; the robots of Artemis were made to place the state above all else. Turing City celebrated the ascendancy of the mind. Its streets and buildings were artfully planned and decorated, its parliament and forges rang to the sound of vigorous debate as the robots discussed the philosophy of their state and others. Artemis City saw no distinction between the twisted metal that formed a robot’s mind and any other metal. Its forges rang to the noise of hammers, building the army that was already marching into other states and claiming them for its own. Already the robots of Artemis City were looking beyond Shull and thinking of other continents they could subsume. Some had even dared to think of moving beyond the planet of Penrose itself. Little were they to know that other planets were looking to them.

  But that is not part of this story, rather it is part of Blood and Iron, the story that follows.

  Now, Karel was a child of war. His mother was forced to weave his mind from the metal of an Artemisian soldier. All through the making of the mind, the soldier taunted the mother by asking which philosophy she had chosen to weave, but Liza refused to answer. So Karel grow up surrounded by suspicion, never quite trusted by any robot save Susan, his wife, and that was only because Susan had been woven to love Karel. When Artemis turned its attention towards Turing City, many doubted where Karel’s loyalties lay.

  Kavan was not made in Artemis, but no one doubted his loyalties. It was said that his mother came from Segre, that she had looked at the way the world was moving and wove the Artemisian philosophy into her son, believing it to be the best route to his survival. If that were true, she wove better than most mothers of Artemis itself. Artemis welcomed all robots who were willing to follow Nyro’s way, so Kavan became a member of the Artemisian infantry. He gained status all the time in the eyes of other Artemisians, eventually leading the final push that ensured the fall of the state of Wien. So great was his following by this time that Spoole, first amongst equals of the Generals who led Artemis City, began to regard him as a threat. It was Spoole who ordered Kavan to attack Turing City, reasoning that whether Kavan or Turing City fell, he would rid himself of one of the greatest threats to his leadership.

  Kavan succeeded in taking Turing City, and during the battle Karel saw his son killed, his wife taken into slavery and all he believed in destroyed. Karel’s mind was removed from his own body and set to driving a diesel engine in support of the Artemisian war effort.

  Now all of Shull knew Kavan’s name, and Karel hated him. Karel blamed Kavan for the death of his son, the loss of his wife, and his enslavement.

  But did Kavan know of Karel? For Karel was still spoken of by many robots, mentioned by some as a traitor who had betrayed Turing City, mentioned by others as the coming mind that was referred to in the almost mythical Book of Robots.

  Perhaps Kavan was yet to hear of Karel, but the time was approaching when the two robots would certainly know of each other’s existence. When that happened, life on Penrose would change forever.

  Here the story of Karel and Kavan fragments into many versions. All agree that Kavan was sent by Spoole to conquer the kingdoms of northern Shull, for Spoole still feared Kavan, and did not wish him to return to Artemis City at the head of an army.

  Artemisian records were second to none, and most survived the coming troubles that were to beset Artemis City, so it is without doubt that Karel travelled north, carrying troops and other materiel to support the invasion.

  All of the accounts agree that Karel and Kavan met on the northern coast of Shull and that Karel fought Kavan, but before the outcome could be resolved, circumstances forced them to go their separate ways. It is also agreed that it was on the northern coast that Karel finally understood his own nature. He saw that the anger within him was so powerful he would never accept the world as it was, and would instead try to change it. In this, he was unusual indeed amongst robots, most of whom had their beliefs set when their minds were woven.

  The different versions of the stories arise in their recounting of what happened just before they fought, when Karel and Kavan entered an ancient building that stood on an island just off the coast of Shull said to hold the proof of the origins of life on Pen-rose.

  In some stories, the building is said to hold a copy of the Book of Robots, the book that contains the instructions for building the original robot mind.

  In other stories, the building is said to contain proof that robots evolved naturally on Penrose.

  All these stories agree on only one point.

  When Karel and Kavan entered the building, they found the titles of three stories written in metal on the far wall.

  The Story of Nicolas the Coward

  The Story of the Four Blind Horses and

  The Story of Eric and the Mountain

  Ruth Powdermaker, 2141

  (For a fuller, though less rigorous and occasionally historically inaccurate retelling of the history of Penrose immediately before the arrival of the human race, see Twisted Metal by Tony Ballantyne.)

  Merriac’s Robots

  From all over Shull, trains were converging on Artemis City.

  They carried the spoils of war, materials captured by the Artemisian army in its conquest of the continent. Long chains of rolling stock, bumping together, shaking the dust from the coal and ore in the hoppers; rippling the oil and the acid in the brim-filled tankers; rattling the metal plate and wire stacked on the trucks; and unnerving the prisoners crowded together in the locked wagons.

  ‘We’re almost there,’ said the robot by the door, peering out through the crack. ‘I can see the glow from the forges.’

  A low hiss of static swept through the tightly packed wagon, the sound of barely restrained fear.

  ‘They say that the Artemisians allow you to enlist in their army!’

  ‘They say that they only destroy the old and the damaged!’

  ‘They say that if you can prove yourself there’s always a place for you in Artemis City!’

  The tightly packed robots looked at one another for comfort, dark shapes striped in the red light squeezing through cracks in the panelling.

  ‘Not true, I’m afraid,’ said the robot by the door.

  He was different from the rest of them. They had been herded onto the train at some tiny little city state in northern Shull, just a few forges and fortifications clinging to the side of a hill. They built themselves all in the same manner, tall and thin, of copper and iron. The man by the door was different. A little shorter and stronger, he wove the electromuscle in his arms and legs in a thicker pattern.

  ‘Not true?’ said one of the terrified robots. ‘But it’s got to be! Merriac told us.’

  Merriac was their king, or at least, he had been until Artemis had driven its railway line into the valley below the castle and sent three trainfuls of troops to its gate. To the consternation of his subjects, Merriac had surrendered without a shot being fired.
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br />   ‘Don’t worry,’ he had said. ‘Artemis will make use of us.’ And Merriac’s subjects had listened to him, because they trusted him.

  ‘Merriac said Artemis will make use of us,’ said one of them.

  ‘And so it will,’ replied the man by the door, ‘for this is Artemis City. The city built out of the bodies and minds of robots from across the continent of Shull. Literally.’

  There was another low hiss of static, and the man by the door warmed to his theme. ‘Once you’re through that door they will march you into the disassembly rooms, where you’ll be taken apart. Plating in one hopper, electromuscle in the next, cogs and gears in a third. They’ll spool the copper wire from your bodies, unscrew your arms and legs and peel away the electromuscle, ready for combing and reweaving. And then they’ll lay your bodies on conveyor belts and dismantle your chests and unhook your coils and remove your heads. Last of all, they’ll unwind the blue twisted metal of your minds.’

  ‘No!’ The sound of static was both pathetic and terrifying.

  ‘But why?’ asked one of them. ‘Surely we are more use to them as living, moving robots? Why take us apart?’

  ‘Because, above all else, they want your metal. Because Artemis doesn’t recognize the difference between the living metal of the mind and the unfused metal of the body. To them you’re nothing more than raw material, walking into their forges.’

  In the dimness they could just make out his face, smiling grimly.

  ‘Come on, you must have heard of the forges of Artemis! You can see them for miles across the great plain: square, red-brick buildings, topped with grey chimneys belching smoke into the air, filling the sky with black cloud. The broken-up parts of conquered robots go into them, and sheet metal and wire and plate is rolled out.’

  ‘What will they do with our metal?’ asked one, timorously.

  ‘Some of you will be used to build more Artemisian soldiers. The wide parade grounds before the military factories shake to the stamp of feet of newly made infantryrobots marching!

  ‘Some of you will go to make more railway lines and engines and trains. The railway system that binds together the continent grows all the time, extending branches and lines to the remotest corners of distant lands!

  ‘And some of you will go to make new buildings. To make new factories and forges in order that Artemis grows still further in strength.’

  The wagon swayed. Now yellow bands of light swept across its interior and the robots heard the sound of heavy machinery pounding, clanking, thumping. Iron was being beaten somewhere close by.

  They looked at one another in terror.

  ‘But that can’t be true. Merriac said we would be safe!’

  ‘Safe?’ said the man by the door. ‘Doomed more like.’ He looked around the frightened faces for a moment. ‘Or maybe not. Because all is not yet lost.’

  The background noise of static ceased at once.

  ‘Go on…’

  ‘Have you heard of Turing City?’

  They looked at one another.

  ‘No,’ said one.

  ‘Turing City once stood on the southern coast of Shull. It was the last of the great city states of Shull to stand up to Artemis. But now it too is defeated.’

  And at that he lowered his voice. ‘… or so it seems. For it is rumoured that deep below the ground, below the broken and shattered ground on which the city once stood, some few robots still shelter. They gather the minds of those captured by the Artemisians, and build them new bodies. Soldiers’ bodies. They say that they are building an army that will some day rise up and defeat Artemis City.’

  ‘Could it be true?’ asked one of the captured robots, eagerly. Merriac’s mistaken words were already forgotten, now they had new hope. The mothers of their kingdom twisted minds that were gullible. Small wonder it had fallen so easily.

  ‘Oh, it’s true,’ said the man by the door.

  ‘But how do you know this?’

  The man raised his voice. ‘Because I am not a prisoner, as you are. Or rather, I am a prisoner, but voluntarily so.’

  ‘Why? What do you mean?’

  The expectation in the wagon was audible. Metal squeaked as the robots leaned closer to listen.

  ‘Listen, robots. I know a way to escape. I found the route by chance two years ago when I rode this train as you do. I return time and again to lead others to safety.’

  ‘Who are you? You must have great courage!’

  ‘My name is Banjo Macrodocious, and no, I do not have great courage. For I feel no hope or fear.’

  ‘Banjo Macrodocious!’ chorused the other robots. They may not have heard of Turing City, but all of them had heard of the robots from the North Kingdom. Twisted to have no sense of self, they were in much demand for dangerous work. Or had been until Artemis had invaded.

  ‘Listen,’ said Banjo Macrodocious. ‘I work for the resistance of Turing City. I travel these lines, bringing the news to robots of how they may escape. Listen closely, for I know the route to freedom. It is dangerous, but you too may follow me, if you have the courage.’

  ‘We have the courage! Tell us, what should we do?’

  Banjo Macrodocious leaned forward a little.

  ‘When the train draws up we will be met by soldiers with guns. They will herd us off this truck into a wide area, lit by lights but surrounded by darkness. There are few guards, and you may be tempted to run. Do not do so! It is a trick! The ground is surrounded by a moat of acid. Fall in and the metal of your mind will quickly burn away, leaving your body lifeless and easier to manipulate. Do not give the Artemisians that satisfaction!’

  ‘We hear you, Banjo Macrodocious. What should we do?’

  ‘Follow the guards’ directions. They will march you into the first disassembly area. Do not wait for their mechanics to come to you! Strip apart your own bodies. Tear the plating from your chest and arms and legs, and throw it into the waiting hoppers. Speed is of the essence!’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Because though the disassembly room will be empty at first, it will fill with more and more robots as this train empties. More Artemisians will enter to aid in the deconstruction. We need to be at the front of the line! The first few minds through are always the ones to be saved: they are taken for storage. It takes time to twist a mind, and the women of Artemis are always behind schedule. Artemis will ensure its store rooms are full before it destroys healthy minds!’

  The robots looked from one to another.

  ‘That makes sense, Banjo Macrodocious. What do we do next?’

  ‘Once you have stripped your panelling, form into a line.’

  ‘Okay…’

  ‘Take apart the robot in front of you. Remove their electro-muscles and drop them on the moving belt to your left. Unship their arms and legs and drop them on the belt to your right, and then lift the body onto the final conveyor belt, and hope that the robot behind will do the same for you.’

  ‘Where will you be, Banjo Macrodocious?’

  ‘I will be at the rear of the line.’

  ‘What if someone does not do the same for you? What if you are left whole?’

  ‘Then I will not make it through.’

  A brief hiss of static.

  ‘But what do I care? I who have no sense of self. You robots will survive. Though your minds will be in darkness, you will be safe, in the store rooms. Some of you will be used to drive machinery, some of you may even be used as minds for infantry-robots. But you will be safe, waiting for the call. Waiting for the day that Turing City rises again!’

  Although they had never heard of Turing City, they felt a surge of hope at the name. They wanted to live. They wanted Artemis City to be defeated.

  And so the train drew to a halt. The robots waited in tense anticipation, but now a little of the fear had gone. The doors fell open and the sound of a guard was heard, harsh and commanding.

  ‘Outside, all of you!’

  The robots dutifully filed out into a wide area lit by flood
lights and surrounded by darkness. To their surprise there was only one guard, and he was a pitiful thing, a grey infantryrobot carrying an old weapon. But they weren’t fooled. They marched forward in line, into the waiting building.

  Inside all was astir, blue-painted Artemisian engineers marched back and forth, sorting through the hoppers of robot parts. Hands and feet and electromuscles of robots from across the continent. Bins filled with blue twisted wire.

  The engineers looked on in amazement as the prisoners began to strip themselves down, but then they moved forward and helped them to remove those awkward parts that had stuck together during those long weeks in the wagon without oil or grease.

  First the panels, then the electromuscle, then the steel bones; the robots took themselves apart, dropping muscle here and limbs there. The air was filled with the clank of metal, the hum of machinery, the spark of the cutter, the glow of the forge.

  The engineers’ surprise turned to disbelief as the prisoners lifted each other onto the final conveyor belt. These robots were of an unusual build, but the engineers had disassembled bodies from across the continent. They quickly figured out what to do.

  Now all of the robots from the wagon were lying on the conveyor belt, and the blue-painted engineers moved in to remove their minds from their heads. They cracked open the metal skulls and pulled out the blue wire bundles inside, which they tossed into the fires that glowed yellow-red behind them. The blue metal sagged and then melted, running down through the coal to form a hard metal clinker beneath. Soon the fires would be extinguished and the ash and clinker raked away to be recycled.

  One of the engineers moved to the rear of the line. The last robot from the wagon stood there, watching in amusement.

  ‘I don’t know how you get them to do that, Fess,’ he said.

  The man who pretended to be called Banjo Macrodocious was looking on in wonder.

  ‘Their king had his subjects made to be that gullible. It’s how he kept himself in power.’

  ‘Well not any more,’ said the engineer briskly. ‘He’ll be through here himself soon. Artemis will have no use for someone like that.’