Greta wasn’t so sanguine. “Elizabeth forgave you but you know what? If people make amends and we forgive them, it’s over. She forgave you before you earned forgiveness.”
Sophia nodded. “So I’ll be trying to be worthy of her forgiveness forever. I know. I owe. Quid pro quo.”
“Useful rhyme,” I said.
When all was done for my arm that could be done, Greta led me to the library vaults. I sat on a couch that reclined under my weight. The lights dimmed. I let the stories and events of the Old World wash over me.
I hadn’t seen a flamethrower before. I didn’t know what it could do. It took a long time for me to fall asleep.
Sy Potter followed me into my dreams and they became nightmares. He chased me in the dark through deep water and I couldn’t run away. I could only stay in front of him. I had to keep moving.
When I awoke, I asked Greta to play the talking animal story. I didn’t want to watch the Old World’s wars. I wanted to hear a reassuring children’s story that affirmed that everything was right with the world or soon would be.
Greta’s favorite story was not reassuring at all, but soon I had a new plan to take the City back. More precisely, I had a plan for the Fathers and Mothers to give up the City in the Sky.
28
I prefer sailing but the safest way back into the City was to run home. Sometimes my arm ached but Sophia adjusted the sensory harness so the exoskeleton responded well, even through my cast. We ran across the blackened rubble of Santa Cruz toward the water. Greta ran by my side, grinning with every long stride.
We turned north when we reached the ocean and ran up the coast. Sometimes Greta leapt from cliff to cliff and laughed as she landed each jump.
As the exoskeletons’ cages stretched out around us, it was more like flying over the ground than running. I worried about invading the City but, as we made our way back, I couldn’t help laughing, too.
The warships still guarded the Bay but the hills beyond the farthest station of the Worm were safe and familiar to me. We turned inland again. I’d never seen the solar panel fields. The panels tracked the sun’s path as we flashed past. The solar farm went on for many kilometers, another artifact of the world Vivid had not allowed me to see.
I had never seen the electrified fences that lay beyond the running trails, either. Greta and I jumped the fence easily and soon I was running the same trails I had run with Carter.
My return to the Worm was a strange moment. The train stopped at the platform and I had to duck to get the exoskeleton’s appendages through the door.
Citizens stared. Greta and I smiled back. “We’re not here to hurt anyone!” I called. “I used to be one of you! I was a Citizen! The Fathers and Mothers aren’t letting you see everything that is out there.”
I paused as a woman pressed herself into the wall of the train and looked away. I knelt beside her, getting as low as my exoskeleton allowed. It was difficult to appear non-threatening.
“What do you want?” the Citizen asked. Her voice trembled. “Are you from Maintenance? Is this a trick?”
“My name is Elizabeth Cruz. I used to be Service Class. I guess I still am in a way. I’m not from Maintenance, and yes, this is a trick.”
By the woman’s pastel clothing I knew she was a Maker. “For a long time, I envied people like you. I wished I’d become a Maker. Instead, I just know a lot about transferring files.”
She was a pretty woman about my age. I hated to see her shake in terror.
“What do you want?”
“This is not about what I want,” I said. “This is about the one question you are never asked. What do you want?”
I put out my human hand instead of the metal one, palm up. “I hope this will help with your decision. You get so few choices. Make it count. The world is bigger than you imagine.”
Greta and I jogged through the Worm, waving to everyone. Our exoskeletons gave us speed but the gift giving slowed us. The satchels at our sides were almost empty when we were done traveling the Worm. By the time we returned to the place we had entered, someone had already uploaded pornography to the train’s screens.
The Citizens stayed in their seats, jaws slack. Their gaze was riveted to the vids. In a moment, the screen split and images of people riding machines through verdant forests flashed across the screen.
“Those are bicycles!” Greta announced. “They were the first exoskeletons! And that’s something different to do with your penis!”
Greta and I exited at the next stop. A we stepped out on the platform and into the sunshine, I watched the City’s screens change. A message from the Fathers and Mothers (Yellow water is clean water!) changed to a scene of children playing. A family in the foreground laughed. A mixed race couple appeared to have more than one child. Little girls and boys of different races played together and no one tried to separate them. Everyone wore bright colors.
Our virus spread as our vids went to every screen of the Collective. The shaming and shunning program worked for us and against itself. The Collective replicated the files and spread our message. However, since we weren’t Citizens and the computer couldn’t identify us without Vivid’s unique corneal implant signatures, the Fathers and Mothers had no culprits to point to. We were invisible.
“C’mon, Greta! It’s time to go.”
We leapt atop the Worm and ran along the roof. We left dents in the metal with every step. Soon, we were back at the platform that would take us to the forest, the fence, the solar fields and, eventually, back to Santa Cruz.
We lingered on the platform a moment.
“You’re sure this is enough?” Greta asked.
“We’ll come back with gear for Low Town so they can get reeducated, too,” I said.
She looked worried. “I don’t think this is enough.”
At that moment, the public address system began echoing throughout the City. The data sticks were loaded with all manner of Old World knowledge, but all of Greta’s gifts to the Citizens had been set to play something special. It was the children’s story that was not a children’s story.
“I will read to you a book written by George Orwell,” a deep voice told us in echoes that could be heard all the way to Low Town. “It is called Animal Farm.”
“It’s a fresh start,” I told Greta. “It’s up to them what they decide to do with it. We’ve all had enough war, don’t you think?”
“You really think this will work? The Citizens will rise up on their own and retake the City in the Sky?”
I shrugged. “Their choice. All we’ve done is give them more to aspire to and to think about. Their boat has a leak now. Let’s see what more information and some thinking can do. We haven’t tried that for a while.”
For the first time since we left the ruins of Santa Cruz, we did not hurry. George Orwell’s story about talking animals followed us into the forest.
For the first time since Vivid had been taken from me, I did not miss it.
Stories live long after their authors are dead.
Each book is a torch from the past,
a small fire lighting the way ahead.
I’m often asked to reflect what’s next
and what’s the regression of y on x?
Is our fate fixed or inflated?
I believe our fears are either debated
or created.
Talk softly, vote and listen long.
I can only note, I hope I’m wrong.
* * *
For more adventures in the world of the Robot Planet Series, enjoy
Robots Versus Humans
The Robot Planet Series II
For updates about new releases, go to AllThatChazz.com.
About the Author
A former journalist, Robert Chazz Chute is the winner of eight writing awards including Honorable Mention for the This Plague of Days, Omnibus Edition in Writers Digest Self-published Ebook Awards of 2014.
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Titles by this author
The Robot Apocalypse
Machines Dream of Metal Gods
Robots Versus Humans
Machinations: The Sand Wars (coming soon)
The Zombie Apocalypse
This Plague of Days, Season One
This Plague of Days, Season Two
This Plague of Days, Season Three
This Plague of Days, Omnibus Edition
The Demon Apocalypse
The Haunting Lessons
The End of the World As I Know It
Fierce Lessons
We Battle Demons, Omnibus Edition
The Crime Novels
Bigger Than Jesus
Higher Than Jesus
Hollywood Jesus
The Divine Assassin’s Playbook, Omnibus Edition
Intense Violence, Bizarre Themes
The Short Stories
Self-help for Stoners
Murders Among Dead Trees
Table of Contents
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