Blood and Iron p-2

by Tony Ballantyne

  ‘Here,’ said Karel, feeling embarrassed. ‘Here. This is where Turing City was.’

  He placed a finger on the map, towards the southern coast of Shull.

  ‘Odd,’ said Brian. ‘Our mapping software didn’t pick up anything there.’

  ‘It wouldn’t,’ said Karel. ‘I told you, Artemis conquered my state. They leave nothing behind.’

  ‘And you’re going there now,’ said Jasprit. ‘Going to find your wife?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And do you love your wife?’

  ‘Yes. Of course.’

  ‘Do all robots love their wives?’

  ‘Usually. Often, when a child is being made, it is woven into their minds to love someone.’

  ‘I know about that,’ said Jasprit, ruefully, and the other two humans laughed, the machines they wore translating the harsh, juddering sounds they made into the sweet hiss of robot laughter.

  ‘Tell me about him,’ said Melt, suddenly, pointing at Simrock.

  The laughter ceased.

  ‘What about him?’ asked Ruth, all businesslike.

  ‘You spoke to him. How?’

  ‘Don’t you know, Melt?’ asked Brian.

  ‘I asked the question first. Answer me!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Melt. We don’t mean to frustrate you. That’s our training. Often telling what we think to be true corrupts or changes the people we are trying to learn about.’ Brian held his arms apart in a human gesture. ‘But you must know how we spoke to Simrock. Don’t you use radio to communicate?’

  ‘Yes, of course we do…’

  Then it struck Karel and Melt what she meant.

  Ruth leaned forward, genuinely interested. ‘Don’t you find it odd that so few robots on this planet have exploited radio as a means of communication? I mean, the pilgrims, the whales, the hive insects do. That’s about it. Why don’t you?’

  ‘Why should we?’ blustered Melt. ‘We build radios when we need them.’

  ‘You have so little curiosity. All of you. You just accept things as they are.’

  She was right, thought Karel. We do. He looked at Brian and Jasprit, saw the way they were looking at each other.

  ‘You know about us,’ said Karel. ‘You know more about us than we do ourselves.’ Something occurred to him. ‘Have you been to the Top of the World?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘No more questions!’ shouted Melt.

  ‘I’m sorry. Force of habit. No, we haven’t. Why do you ask, Karel?’

  ‘I’ve been to the top of Shull. There is a place there.’

  ‘Can you show me on the map?’ asked Brian.

  ‘I’m sorry. No. But there is a building. I was forbidden to enter, but I looked inside anyway. There is an arrangement of robots in there, all lined up, showing how we evolved.’

  Jasprit began to dance at this.

  ‘Really? We’ve got to go, Ruth.’

  ‘We will! What else is there, Karel?’

  ‘A map of the stars on the wall. And the titles of three stories: The Story of Nicolas the Coward, The Story of the Four Blind Horses, and The Story of Eric and the Mountain.’

  That had them.

  ‘Really, Ruth, we have to go!’ said Jasprit. ‘We need to see that place!’

  ‘We’re interested in stories,’ explained Ruth. ‘They tell you a lot about a culture. I’ve heard the story of Nicolas the Coward. Simrock told us that as you walked here.’

  They looked at Simrock, standing placidly nearby. He seemed to have lost interest in the conversation.

  ‘I don’t know the other two stories though,’ said Ruth. ‘Could you tell me them, Karel?’

  ‘I’m sorry, no. I never heard them.’

  Melt made a noise.

  ‘Do you know them, Melt?’ asked Karel.

  ‘I thought everyone knew the story of Eric and the Mountain,’ he replied.

  ‘Everyone? No.’ Karel gazed at Melt. ‘Melt, where are you from?’

  ‘Karel, do we have time for this?’

  Karel was torn between Melt and the animals. To think he had walked all this way next to someone who knew one of the mysterious stories.

  Melt spoke up.

  ‘Ruth, maybe we can do a deal,’ he said. ‘We need to get down to the plain below. If you help us, I will answer all your questions.’

  The three humans looked at each other.

  ‘We could call up a craft,’ said Brian. ‘But I’m not sure it would take all three of them.’

  ‘I’m staying here,’ said Simrock.

  ‘Why?’ asked Melt.

  ‘This is where Nicolas the Coward will be, not down on the plains below.’

  ‘Two of us then,’ said Melt. ‘You must have flown up here in a craft. I can’t imagine animals walking this far. Get us closer to Artemis City and we’ll help you.’

  ‘We can’t take you too close,’ said Brian.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s another state’s… trading area,’ said Ruth. ‘We have agreements.’

  ‘I think I understand,’ said Melt. ‘Just take us down to the plains, then.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Brian, and he held out a hand. Melt took it and moved it up and down.

  ‘You have met humans before,’ said Ruth. ‘In that case, if it’s all the same to you, we will speak to Karel.’

  Karel was too heavy for the humans’ flimsy chairs. He didn’t mind, he sat on the rocky ground amongst the curved iron buildings as these creatures from so far away asked him questions.

  Such strange questions, at once so obvious but so difficult to put an answer to. Where did robots come from, how did they make children, what was the difference between a robot and an animal? Why were there two moons, why was there metal, how long do they live, what’s the difference between a male and female robot?

  And then, the oddest of them all.

  ‘Take a look around the village, Karel. Tell us what you see.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We want to see this world through your eyes.’

  Karel looked around. From here he could see nothing but sky, he was lost in the cupped hands of the mountain, watched only by the sun. No one knew of this place, but it still seemed odd that it had remained undetected for fifty years, if not the hundreds of years old that it looked.

  ‘What do you think? Go on. Look around.’

  He got up and, followed by Ruth, he wandered around the village. The buildings were just a little smaller than he was: he could not stand up inside those low iron domes. The doors were all low, no more than two feet high, and he ducked to enter one or two, to look around the empty interiors with glowing eyes. In one he found a shallow depression in the centre of the room that might once have held a fire. Looking up, he saw a hole in the roof, flames of rust licking through the iron towards him.

  He ducked back outside and turned his attention to the collar of stone on which the iron dome sat.

  It was green with organic life, he noted with some disgust. Green fur, yellow splats of lichen, even frills of some pale substance he had never seen before.

  He reached out and dragged his finger across it. It felt so insubstantial, almost like it wasn’t there. It was ironic. Up here, in this forgotten space at the top of the world, strong metal rusted, but weak organic life waxed wildly. Only in Turing City had the natural order reigned. Only in that state had the stones been scrubbed clean, the creeping tendrils of green life uprooted and burned, only there had metal walked pure and free. No more.

  And then, as he stared at the obscene mush on his fingers, the world seemed to flip. For a moment, that mush was the true, vital life, and his metal body was cold and clean and sterile. Nothing but metal animated by thoughts.

  Then the world flipped back again and he laughed. What did it mean to say ‘nothing but metal animated by thoughts’? He was exactly metal animated by thoughts.

  The world flipped again, and he looked at those low, wide doorways, and something else became clear.

  R
uth was there, standing by him.

  ‘What is it, Karel?’

  ‘I think I see. The robots that lived here weren’t shaped like me.’

  He found the proof in the next building he looked inside.

  Two bodies lay in there. Robot bodies of a sort. They were long, of many segments, two limbs, not quite arms, not quite legs, coming from each section. At one end there was an interface where Karel guessed another segment could be plugged. At the other there was a flat head containing two eyes of a similar design to his own.

  The skull of one robot was broken open, and he peered inside at the blue wire in there, maybe not so much like in Karel’s own head, but it was twisted enough to suggest intelligence.

  Karel ran his hands over one of the bodies. He moved it, felt the articulation in the joints, saw the way the blue wire of the mind ran to the very tip of each limb. Then he noticed what was missing. No electromuscle. These robots controlled their bodies by lifeforce alone. They would be weaker than he was, a lot weaker.

  It was good metal though. Steel with enough chromium to encourage passivation: these bodies would take a long time to rust. He noticed the traces of chromium in the dome structure too.

  He took hold of one of the bodies, and crawled backwards out of the building, dragging it along behind himself.

  ‘Have you seen robots like these before, Karel?’

  ‘No. What are they, Ruth?’

  ‘We were hoping you would tell us.’

  He began to disassemble the body for parts, pausing for a moment.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked Ruth, hearing the odd noise that she made. ‘It’s only metal.’

  He turned his attention back to the creature. Some of the chromium steel had welded together, and he had to tear the gelled parts from each other. Even so, it was a nicely constructed machine, and Karel was impressed by the craftsrobotship of the makers.

  And a thought suddenly occurred to him.

  Why was he shaped like he was? Why did robots have two arms and two legs? Why did they walk upright?

  The answer was obvious, of course. That was a sensible shape for a robot. It was a sensible shape for a human. But was the obvious answer the right one?

  Night was falling.

  ‘We must take them down tonight,’ Karel overheard Brian saying. ‘They don’t sleep, remember? Who is going to stay awake amongst us?’

  ‘I’d do it. I want to know more about the stories! Melt knows more. You saw how he answered that question!’

  ‘I don’t care. I’ve summoned the craft already. There’ll be other robots, Ruth.’

  They were looking at him, Karel knew. He pretended not to notice. He was sat on the floor before Jasprit, looking at the patterns she drew on a piece of plastic.

  ‘That looks like a child to me,’ he said.

  ‘But why?’ asked Jasprit. ‘What makes it look like a child?’

  Ruth came up. She looked down at the pattern. ‘I thought that was a man.’

  ‘Apparently not,’ said Jasprit. ‘Not to a robot, anyway.’

  ‘Karel,’ said Ruth, ‘the craft is coming. We’ll need to head up the mountain a little way to the flat ground. Are you ready?’

  ‘I am.’

  Melt walked up. ‘They say it will only take half an hour to get down,’ he said.

  ‘That will save us a lot of time.’

  Karel looked around the three humans, at the strange village.

  ‘I feel as if I should stay here…’ he began.

  ‘That’s how it begins,’ said Melt firmly. ‘Promises and help, and before you know it you’re dancing to their tune.’

  ‘You know,’ said Karel, ‘you’ve remembered your past.’

  ‘Later,’ said Melt. ‘When we’re down.’

  They said goodbye to Simrock.

  ‘Good luck finding Nicolas the Coward,’ said Karel.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Simrock.

  ‘Goodbye Karel, Goodbye Melt,’ said Jasprit.

  They climbed from the village, accompanied by Brian and Ruth. Jasprit and Simrock waved goodbye.

  ‘Not far up here,’ said Brian.

  They climbed to a little wind-whipped plateau. Brilliant white peaks surrounded them, framed by the deepening blue sky. Night was coming. Below them the slopes were greyer where the summer snowmelt had occurred.

  ‘It’s not too windy is it, Brian?’ asked Ruth.

  ‘They said it would be fine.’

  As he spoke there was a low buzzing. Karel saw a flying craft approaching, a huge propeller turning on the top.

  ‘A helicopter,’ said Ruth.

  The craft came closer; it hovered above them and then slowly settled on the plateau.

  ‘Goodbye,’ said Ruth, holding out her hand. ‘I hope you find your wife.’

  Karel took her hand. It was a delicate operation; not too hard so he crushed it, not so soft it slipped from his; he shook it up and down, the way he had seen Melt do.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Karel. ‘I hope you find out all you need to.’

  He shook hands with Brian and then moved towards the craft. The big propeller on the top was blowing down on them, pushing them to the ground. Something within in the craft set up a singing resonance within his body. It was uncomfortable, but bearable.

  Karel and Melt climbed on board. They were met by a human wearing something like a robot’s skull over his head, a sheet of glass across the front. He showed them where to sit on the little metal seats. He seemed particularly concerned by the weight of Melt, moving him around the cabin until he was happy with his position.

  Eventually they were settled. The note of the engine increased, and Karel gazed out of the window as they rose up into the air.

  Susan

  Barrack 245 was one of twenty identical corrugated-steel buildings arranged in a four by five grid near the marshalling yards.

  The windowless, rectangular constructions crowded together, keeping the narrow concrete paths running between them forever in gloomy shadow. Susan walked with Spoole, now also wearing the body of an infantryrobot, down one of the paths.

  ‘There is fungus growing down here,’ said Spoole. ‘Here, right in the middle of Artemis City.’

  ‘Fungus?’ Susan looked at the soft white globes. ‘They’re obscene!’

  ‘I saw them in Born,’ said Spoole. ‘They used to cultivate them.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I have no idea.’ He looked up at the sheer wall of the building. ‘This is the place. It’s empty.’

  Susan could feel it too. The building could hold one thousand, four hundred and fifty robots, packed in, arms and legs and bodies all pushed together. So many bodies combined would set up a faint hum. Spoole tapped at the wall. They heard the hollow vibration of the space beyond.

  ‘They’re gone,’ he said.

  ‘Not surprising,’ said Susan. It had taken them days to reach the barracks. Days of dodging patrols and doubling back on themselves. The order had gone out that Spoole was now wanted for treason against the state. That was a difficult concept for the robots of Artemis, their minds woven from birth to think of nothing but Nyro’s way. That conscripts should turn against the state, that they should only pretend to be Artemisians as a way of preserving their life, that was understood. But for Spoole, a robot whose mind was woven in the making rooms of Artemis, to turn traitor, that was almost unthinkable.

  ‘What do we do now?’

  Spoole had the answer already.

  ‘Head for the Marshalling Office. Nettie will have been loaded onto a train. We can find out which one.’

  They left the barrack area and followed the gloomy concrete paths back out into the sunshine at the edge of the marshalling yard.

  Railway lines, their upper surfaces polished silver by the passage of wheels, swept across the ground in every direction.

  ‘It’s over a mile across,’ said Spoole, proudly. ‘Two miles deep, though some of the lines run back for five miles, almost into the heart of the ci
ty.’

  Susan looked at the endless rows of the wagons parked on the lines before her. A diesel engine rumbled past, pulling a line of green tankers. She could hear the petrol sloshing around inside them. Only half full. Had the humans taken the rest?

  ‘Where’s the Marshalling Office?’

  ‘Down there.’

  Spoole pointed south, to the focus of the yard, the place where all of the lines converged through a series of points and crossovers, the place where the hundreds of tracks joined together in ones and twos to leave just sixteen, running from Artemis City and into the continent of Shull. A gantry stretched across those sixteen tracks, a haphazard array of galvanized steel buildings erected upon it.

  ‘Every train that leaves the city this way passes beneath the Marshalling Office,’ said Spoole. ‘Every train, every item of freight, is recorded there. If Nettie has been taken, they’ll know it. Come on.’

  They set off, jumping across the tracks, dodging between the trains that slowly rumbled past.

  They found themselves keeping pace with a rake of open wagons, infantryrobots standing idly on board, watching the world go by.

  ‘Where are you heading?’ called Spoole.

  ‘Stark!’ one of them called back. ‘They say Kavan is out there!’ He took a closer look, and saw through the borrowed infantry-robot body. ‘Hey, you’re Spoole, aren’t you!’

  ‘I am!’

  ‘Spoole!’ Susan tugged at his arm. ‘What are you doing?’

  The infantryrobots all turned in his direction, pressing forward to the edge of the wagon.

  ‘Spoole, what’s going on?’ they called. ‘They say you’re a traitor! Are you?’

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Spoole.

  ‘I don’t know. Why are you fighting Kavan?’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m fighting Kavan. Are you?’

  The train was speeding up. One infantryrobot began running back along the train, trying to keep level with Spoole. Jumping from wagon to wagon, pushing other robots out of the way. Spoole and Susan jogged forward to keep up with him.

  ‘Would Kavan trade with the animals?’ called the robot.

  ‘You know the answer to that,’ called Spoole.

  ‘But…’ The robot tripped on another.

  ‘Hey!’

  The train was accelerating now. Spoole watched as the infantry-robot receded.