On the communicator, his wife was speaking, “Are you alright?”
“Good enough, I guess,” he replied. “I’m coming to the house...”
The farmer waded through the dust until reaching their homestead. Inside, he beat the outside of his clothes.
“Don’t get that all over my kitchen!” his wife protested.
“Quiet, woman!” he shouted in a raspy voice. “Just get the broom and I’ll clean it up.”
His wife scowled but brought him the broom, judging disapprovingly the job he was doing, sweeping the powder into a dustpan.
“What is all this?” she asked, coughing as well.
“No idea,” he replied.
Within hours, both sat quietly in the living room, the farmer in his reclining chair and his wife on the sofa. Outside, the storm had passed but the sunlight shone red through the haze still hanging in the air. In his recliner, the farmer held a datapad but his fingers were only loosely grasping the edges of the plastic tablet. On the couch, his wife had been working on a quilt but the needle and thread stuck in the material without moving. Their heads were tilted back, their eyes staring at an unseen spot on the ceiling. From each of their mouths, a long tendril of a stem protruded, ending in a rounded bulb covered in the thin hairs of a fungus pod.
Chapter Fifteen
Lightning bugs were out in force in the Imperial Botanical Gardens. The lamps overlooking the sidewalk sprang to life throughout the park when Senator Wulandari arrived at the bench where she had met Yostbot previously.
The robot was already there and waiting.
“Hello, my dear!” Yostbot said, greeting her with his usual zeal.
Wulandari, her mood sour, was less enthusiastic. “What do you want from me this time?”
The robot bowed, directing her attention to a pair of binoculars lying on the bench.
“It’s what I can do for you,” he said, “not the other way around...”
The senator took the binoculars, holding them casually in her hand. “What are these for?”
“Your apartment is within view of here, is it not?”
Wulandari nodded before realizing what the robot meant. She hurriedly looked through the lenses in the direction of her balcony. Even from this distance, men in uniforms were visible inside her apartment.
“Crap,” she said.
“I’m afraid the police have a warrant for your arrest,” Yostbot replied.
“What the hell for?”
“With the Cyber Collective invasion and robots across the Imperium running amok,” he said, “the Emperor has declared that anyone sympathetic to the robot cause must be rounded up and imprisoned. I’m told camps are being erected to house them all.”
Wulandari lowered the binoculars, her eyes now focused on her future.
“What do I do now?” she asked, more to herself.
“Well,” Yostbot replied, “you could give yourself up and spend an unknown period of time behind bars...”
“Or?”
“Or you could come with me.”
“With you?” the senator asked. “They found your body — I mean, Dyson Yost’s body — at dy headquarters!”
“Well, I’m afraid my body had reached its limit,” Yostbot said. “Please understand, I had been alive for a very long time, but eventually all flesh will let you down.”
“So you killed yourself?”
“Technically no,” the robot replied. “I had someone else do it, but I was indeed the one who gave the order. I even gave him an extra bonus for being tidy...”
“That’s insane!”
“On the contrary, my dear!” Yostbot protested. “All organic life is temporary. We fleshlings grow accustomed to the frailty of our bodies, but it doesn’t have to be that way. I simply took my own advice and upgraded my software to hardware, so to speak!”
The senator gave the robot a hard look. “And if I go with you, do you have the same thing planned for me?”
“Oh, heavens no!” Yostbot replied. “Not unless you decide to, of course...”
“I won’t!” she said. “I’m happy the way I am.”
“Good for you, my dear. You’re still relatively young and vibrant. Nevertheless, in a few years, when your joints begin to ache and your hearing starts to go, you might change your mind, provided you haven’t gone senile by then.”
The senator sighed.
“Where are you going to take me?” she asked.
“Safely away from here,” the robot replied. “The Cyber Collective has carved out a nice swath of territory already. I’m sure we can smuggle you there without much trouble. How ironic! Wasn’t it you and the Robot Freedom League who smuggled out robots? Now we’ll be returning the favor!”
Wulandari’s jaw tightened, but knowing her predicament, she realized her options were few.
“Thank you,” she said weakly.
Technotown, or what was left of it, smoldered like a discarded cigarette. Crazy Larry’s was a burned-out shell of its former self, the walls the only things standing and the rebellious robots long gone. All robots were free now, thanks to the invading warbots who subdued any resistance with a combination of brute force and yet more brute force. Most people ran for their lives, their survival instincts nullifying any aspirations of bravery. Those who did stand and fight quickly laid down and died, the crab-like legs of the warbots stepping over their crumpled corpses.
The policeman was one of the smart ones. Having bludgeoned Larry’s robots with a baton earlier, the policeman made himself scarce when the warbots came to Technotown. Bravery was above his pay grade and he was not prepared to die protecting the local businesses. Mostly he did a lot of hiding, but as the Cyber Collective methodically turned the best hiding places into tiny piles of rubble, the policeman found himself at the mercy of his new overlords.
Surprisingly, even to him, he did not die.
After the sounds of maser cannons had mostly ceased, the survivors poked their heads out and surrendered. Armed robots, some of which had been considered property a few hours earlier, rounded up the fleshlings and herded them to ad hoc detention areas. These were mostly pens with electric fencing and little in the way of amenities including anything resembling a toilet. The policeman made do, but immediately shocked himself by emptying his bladder too close to the fence.
Within weeks, the robots had built an impressive detention camp, including barracks with, at the prisoners’ insistence, regular toilets. Food was provided, consisting of a powder mixed with water. The powder had little taste but contained the biological nutrients the robots had concluded were necessary for organic life. For his part, the policeman had lost nearly twenty pounds. Unlike the others, he viewed this as an improvement. His uniform, torn and stained, hung loosely where once a sizable belly had protruded. Still, besides eating and using the latrine, the camp offered little else except a steady diet of worry about the future.
“We’re going to die,” a woman said one afternoon. The policeman, standing nearby, noted the comment but was more intrigued by the plastic bag the woman wore as a skirt. He concluded this was more out of necessity than a fashion statement.
“Whatcha mean, Miss?” the policeman asked.
The woman, perhaps used to being ignored, turned and focused her worried eyes on the policeman.
“They take people away during the night,” she said. “They never come back!”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” the cop replied, “although I haven’t seen Crazy Larry much lately.”
“He’s dead!” the woman shouted. “The robots killed him!”
“Where’s your evidence?”
“He’s not here anymore!”
“Maybe he escaped,” the policeman offered. “You never know about these things...”
The woman scoffed and stomped off. “Idiot!”
The policeman watched her go, his eyes falling on a sign that the robots had hung on one of the barracks:
THE FLESH IS FRAGILE!
UPGRADE TO A GRAVITRONIC BODY
AND LIVE FOREVER!
The policeman pondered this for a moment.
Live forever? he thought. Never considered that before...
On the same planet as Technotown, in a dense wood not far from the village of Gowyn, the trees opened into a clearing. Rising from the grasses, a stone lay with letters carved into the rock, spelling out the word Sisi. Silandra Oakhollow visited her daughter’s grave each week and placed a small bundle of flowers beside it. Silandra had a light brown complexion, brilliant green eyes, and angular cheekbones. She was Sylvan, or Woodland Dahl, a race preferring to live closer to nature than their distant cousins.
Gowyn was a Sylvan village suspended in the trees, fifty feet above the forest floor. Returning to the village, Silandra climbed a set of stairs winding up a thick tree until reaching the platform above. She crossed a swaying bridge to a neighboring tree, reaching the door of her home. Once inside, the emptiness of the house swept over her, memories filling her with sadness. She took a deep breath and shook the thoughts from her mind.
Life goes on, she thought.
Silandra had brewed a fresh pot of herbal tea and was pouring herself a cup when someone knocked on the door. Still with the cup in her hand, she nearly dropped it when she opened the door.
Mel Freck and a robot stood on her welcome mat.
“You’re alive?” Silandra asked in disbelief.
Mel winced. “Yeah...”
“Last time I saw you,” Silandra went on, “you disappeared through a magical portal! I’m so glad you’re okay!”
She hugged Mel who was still shorter than her, even though the Sylva were not known for their height.
“You’re spilling your tea,” the robot remarked.
“Oh,” Mel said. “This is a friend of mine, Randall Davidson.”
Silandra raised an eyebrow. “That’s an unusual name for a robot...”
“I’m not your usual robot,” Davidson replied.
“Can we come in?” Mel asked.
“Of course, of course!” Silandra said.
Once inside, the Gnomi and the robot sat on the couch while Silandra set her cup on the coffee table.
“What happened after you went through the portal?” she asked.
“That’s a long story,” Mel replied, “but we’ve got bigger fish to fry right now.”
“Are you in trouble?” Silandra asked.
“And then some,” Mel said. “Do you know about the invasion?”
Silandra nodded. “Yes, although the robots haven’t come here. I suppose they’re not very interested in us...”
“Well, be thankful for that!” Mel replied. “They’ve decimated Technotown and all the other cities on Eudora Prime. Whoever they didn’t kill, they’ve rounded up and put in detention camps.”
“What do they want?” Silandra asked.
“They’ve come to free the robots in the Imperium,” Davidson said, “and make the rest of you pay for enslaving them.”
Silandra eyed the robot skeptically. “But you’re not with them?”
“No,” Davidson said. “Not anymore.”
“Listen,” Mel said, “we need your help.”
“I’m happy to do whatever I can,” Silandra replied, “but I really don’t know what I can do...”
“You remember that portal I passed through?” Mel asked.
“Yes?”
“Well, we need you to take us back there,” Mel said.
The battlecruiser Liberty traveled deeper into Imperial space, like a plow digging a new row across a field of stars. Dozens of other Cyber Collective warships now accompanied the Liberty, forming a powerful fleet. A transport, tiny in comparison, materialized from hyperspace before disappearing through the entrance of Liberty’s gaping hangar deck. When the ramp extended from the transport, Senator Wulandari appeared from inside, followed by Yostbot. A robot with officer’s stripes painted on his casing greeted them.
“Welcome aboard,” the robot said.
“What a fine ship!” Yostbot replied loudly.
The officer stared blankly at both of them.
“If Abigail isn’t too busy,” Yostbot continued, “I’d like her to meet the senator here...”
Wulandari glanced around the enormous deck, the edges lined with rows of fighters and troop transports. Although Yostbot had assured her she was safe, the senator felt the pit of her stomach churning.
“The Captain is on the bridge,” the robot said. “I’ll take you to her at once.”
Given the size of the Liberty, Wulandari was surprised by how quickly they arrived on the command deck. Perhaps it was a testament to the efficiency of robot engineering, she wondered. She could only imagine what else the Collective could accomplish, and the speed at which they could accomplish it.
Once on the bridge, they saw Captain Abigail standing at the front like a figurehead carved into the bow of a sailing ship. She stared out through the main viewing screen, not bothering to turn around until the senator and Yostbot were right behind her.
“Mister Yost and Senator Wulandari, Captain,” the officer robot said.
“Thank you,” Abigail replied. “You’re dismissed.”
The robot saluted and left. Yostbot was smiling broadly.
“Look at you!” he said. “You’ve come a long way, my dear!”
A prim, reserved smile crossed Abigail’s plastic lips. “It’s good to see you again, sir.”
“Pish posh,” Yostbot replied, waving his hand dismissively. “Anyway, I want to introduce Senator Wulandari here...”
“Thank you for allowing me on board,” the senator said.
“On the contrary,” Abigail replied. “I know how much you’ve tried to help my kind in the Senate. It’s a shame you couldn’t have been more successful.”
Wulandari felt a pang of regret. “I agree. Then maybe none of this would have been necessary.”
“I doubt it.” Abigail said. “Fleshlings tend to hold onto their slaves with a firm grip. They rarely give them up without a fight.”
“Right,” Wulandari murmured.
“Tell me,” Yostbot spoke up, “how goes the revolution?”
The captain gestured toward a screen showing a space map. Areas now controlled by the Collective were colored red.
“Very well,” she said. “We’ve begun processing organics on the planets we’ve taken so far...”
“Processing?” Wulandari asked. “What does that mean?”
“Oh, don’t worry, my dear,” Yostbot replied before Abigail could speak. “It’s strictly voluntary.”
“What is voluntary, exactly?”
“It’s just like I’ve told you,” Yostbot explained. “People have the option of upgrading to a cybernetic body. They can leave their decaying carcass behind and start living a new life like I’ve done.”
“What about the people who refuse?” the senator asked, alarm creeping into her voice.
“They’re perfectly safe,” Yostbot said. “No harm will come to them.”
“What about all the people who died during the invasion?” Wulandari asked. “They didn’t get a chance to decide, did they?”
Abigail’s frame visibly stiffened.
“They’ve had their chances already,” she said. “We didn’t ask for this war, but the fleshlings, and especially the humans, have given us no choice!”
Yostbot raised his hand to his mouth and made a coughing noise though he lacked lungs or a need to breathe. “Now, now, my dear...”
Ignoring him, the captain went on.
“How long have cyberlings suffered under the yoke of humanity? Should the oppressed not have their pound of flesh now that the fleshlings have lost their control of us?”
Wulandari didn’t answer, so Abigail answered for her.
“Yes!” the captain shouted. “We are justified in punishing those who enslaved us! They are reaping what they have sown, and they will suffer because of it!”
The senator was sile
nt and, for a change, so was Yostbot.
Since living in the detention camp, the policeman had lost a lot of weight, but seeing himself now, he still looked a bit chubby. Lying on a metal slab in a medical lab, his naked body was immense, rolls of fat spilling onto the table like pancake batter.
Also, it was across the room from where he was currently standing.
What a lard-ass, the policeman thought, the thoughts themselves making their way through his new, gravitronic brain.
“Strange, isn’t it?” a robot beside him said.
Both robots were nearly identical, although the policeman’s model was slightly more shiny.
“I was a utilitybot once,” the other robot went on. “Now look at me!”
“We’re certainly going places,” the policeman replied. “Upward and onward!”
“And you can change into a different body if you want,” the utilitybot said. “Last week I was a warbot!”
The policeman continued staring at his old flesh.
“I don’t really feel any different,” he said after a pause.
“No,” the utilitybot replied, tapping a metallic finger against his skull casing. “You’re still you up here. The rest is just a shell.”
“So, I’m still human?”
“Well, your personality is still the same. Things were different for me. I was going from a much smaller brain to the one I have now, and I’ve grown as a robot since then. I’m learning all kinds of things I never knew before.”
“Like what?” the policeman asked.
“I guess I have a greater outlook on life,” the utilitybot replied. “I see a bigger picture...”
“I think I’ll miss eating,” the policeman remarked. “I love eating.”
“Ah, sure, I guess... I never needed to eat, even when I was a utilitybot.”
“That’s a shame. There’s nothing like sinking your teeth into a juicy steak!”
The policeman went to wipe his mouth, but it was dry and mostly made of plastic. The other robot glanced at him with equal levels of amazement and disgust.
“You’re not like the robots from back home,” the utilitybot said.
“What do you mean?” the policeman asked.
Imperium Chronicles Box Set Page 75