Though she was scarred, he could now see there was something about her slim build and long, slender fingers that resembled his. He imagined her eyes charcoal colored. “You… you’re the woman I dream about…my mother.”
Panic filled her eyes. “I can’t be. I’m Truattan. You were built by Earthers. Isn’t that right, God?”
J-1 watched the focus that she had mustered the last ten days slip away. He said, “I dreamt about you. We went to a restaurant after my graduation. I wanted us to leave early so I could visit my girlfriend…Cristina.”
Mata gasped. She stumbled back in disbelief.
“Dad had been drinking so you drove. There was an acci—”
“Jay!” Mata collapsed to her knees and sobbed. “My boy, my son!”
The door slammed open. Cord burst into the room pointing his electro-rod. “What the landerbyss is going on?”
“Nothing,” J-1 blurted. “I was—” Cord tightened his grip on the weapon and aimed it at J-1’s chest. J-1 glanced at Mata hunched on the floor. “—I was testing my new leg and I accidentally stepped on Mata’s toe.” He lifted his pant leg and showed Cord the new knee.
Mata nodded. “That’s right, that’s right. My toe.” She rubbed her foot and stood. Wiping her eyes, she said, “It hurt like a mother-Earther.”
Cord studied them for many seconds before replying, “Keep it quiet in here or I’m shutting down operations.” He left and closed the door with a bang.
J-1 and Mata scrutinized each other as they quietly circled the room on opposite sides of each other like two nervous predators waiting for the other to spring.
“Enough.” J-1 stopped pacing. Mata did the same. He looked across the room at her, and said, “I have a million questions.”
Mata shut her eyes a moment. “Yes. I’ve been anticipating answering them since your creation.”
He took a step toward her. “All this time together, why didn’t you let me know who you were?”
“I was frightened of myself. I didn’t want any distractions to interfere with my repair work on you.” She took a deep breath. “These last ten days I had reclaimed my sanity. This was my opportunity to make you look presentable to the court, which would square myself with God over what I’d done to you. I didn’t want to jeopardize that.”
“Square yourself with God? Done to me? What does that mean?”
She explained how she’d built him in Jay’s likeness, and the attempt to steal him by her secretary and the villainous partner of Miguel Acevedo. She explained how they had ended up in the Seminole district called Old Town and how Ameri-Inc. had raided it. “There was an explosion…” Her eyes watered up. “Miguel died and they took you away. Do you have memories of this?”
“No. Should I?”
“Probably not. Your system wasn’t fully integrated at that point.” She told him about Dan Panther and her own GTS research and how she had ended up here, and her decades and decades “of trying to see you, to run my fingers through your hair and to be reminded of Jay.”
“I don’t mean to be insensitive,” J-1 replied, “but surely you had pictures and video of your son.”
“Yes, but you’re more than pictures. You see there’s one other thing.” She rubbed the back of her hand across her lips as if to clear them of a hidden barrier. “I inserted Jay’s DNA into you.”
J-1’s stomach roiled. His mind was already reeling, now it felt like it was going through a twister. “Did Ameri-Inc. know this?”
Niyati smiled widely—a strange smile that reminded J-1 of a setting sun. Her focus dimmed. She pointed upward. “The only one that knew was Him. And He’s one perennial jokester, aren’t you?” She laughed. “He likes to play stick and carrot, right ol’ chum?”
J-1 glanced at the door. “Shhh, you’ve got to remain quiet.”
“Uh, oh.” Mata waggled her forefinger. “That’s a tough one.”
“I need you to stay with me.” J-1 stepped closer. “We have to work together. For the sake of your son.”
The last sentence grabbed Mata’s attention.
“For your son,” he repeated. “For Jay.”
Mata squeezed her eyes shut and massaged her temples. When she lowered her arms and opened her eyes, her mind had returned from wherever it had journeyed.
J-1 told her about his rogue act of ingesting GTS and how he had lost communication with the other machines and, even worse, the feelings he had been experiencing and trying to cope with.
When he had finished, Mata studied the floor for several seconds, and said, “The DNA I inserted in you may have played a part in your decision to follow your curiosity and sample the GTS. The GTS may have, in turn, fired up the DNA. That may have sparked your ability to feel emotions.” Before J-1 could respond, she added, “Forgive me. My intention was never to hurt you. I swear it.” She started to cry.
J-1 felt anguish for this fragile, misshapen woman. After all, weren’t they both victims of human emotion? He rubbed her shoulder and patiently waited for her to stop. When she did, he said, “I have a final question. The biggest one of all.”
“Before I answer it. There’s another repair I have to do.”
He cocked his head. “I thought you had finished.”
“So did I.” She motioned him onto the bed.
He almost protested, but didn’t. There was something in the way that she had said it that implied importance. She lowered the magnifier lens strapped to her head, opened his mouth and lifted his tongue. He felt her messing with something underneath. She let go, grabbed a micro-welder, lifted his tongue again and brought the welder’s tip to the spot. She clicked the tool a couple of times. He felt heat. She removed it and said, “Okay, now we’re done. How do you feel?”
J-1 lay still for a minute listening to his breathing. “The same.”
“Are you positive?”
“Yes, why?”
The door cracked open. Cord studied them. Satisfied nothing was out of the ordinary, he shut the door again.
Mata shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought you might feel…less lonely.”
“I feel no different. What did you do?” he asked, thinking she had tried to tamp the emotions eating him up.
“I connected a few loose wires that run through your communication relay units, but it appears the problem is more complicated than that.” Mata shrugged. “You’re stuck with the way you are.”
Silence engulfed them. The quiet was motionless, heavy, like a damp blanket. J-1 sat up on the bed as if to remove the shroud, and said, “My last question.”
“Yes,” Mata replied. “Ask it.”
He stared into her eyes. “Who am I?”
She motioned him to her. He approached, bio-core fluid pounding through his chest and temples. She cradled his head in her arms. “The answer is simple. You are my son.”
J-1 felt a weight bear down on his chest and at the same time rise from his shoulders.
“We are a family,” she whispered. “You and I.”
His shoulders shook. Her words had done more to stifle his loneliness than a million repairs could ever achieve. Mata lifted his face and touched her finger on the wetness falling from the corner of his eye. “How can this be?” She kissed his cheek and whispered, “My son.”
~~~
Norma clasped Teague tightly and thrust her pelvis upward until there was no space between them. She closed her eyes and held hard. She moaned, found his mouth and smothered it with her own.
“I love you,” he murmured between kisses. “I love you.” He rolled on to his side and studied her nakedness in the gray dawn’s half-light.
Norma remained on her back and allowed herself a rare pleasure, to be carried away in the afterglow of her climax. She permitted it because she was experiencing something she hadn’t felt in a long time—hope. Something had occurred between Mata and the automaton two days ago. Whatever it was, it had brought Mata to her senses. No, she thought, it had done more than that. It had reinvigorated her. It had—
“What’s going on?” Teague propped his elbow up, rested his jaw in his hand and smiled. “You look like the orzaan that ensnared the ocktupare.”
She told him of the change in Mata. “I’m not sure,” she said. “But I think that Mata may be the automaton’s creator.”
“Really?”
“There’s a bond between her and the robot that was…” Her throat tightened. She couldn’t finish what was in her thoughts, that was like the bond she had had with Rack and Roneel.
Teague clasped her hand and brought it to his lips. “You okay?”
She took a weighty breath and nodded.
Teague lay in silence a moment and asked, “If Mata is the robot’s creator, that makes her an Earther.”
“Yes.”
“But then how and why did she end up here?”
Norma faced him. “I know what you’re thinking, but I’ve thought this over. If she were a spy, she wouldn’t have waited for us to find her. She would have found us. And why would she have led us to Pocketsville and designed it so we could survive?”
“Have you asked her these things?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” but she did know. It was an intuition. One she had had since first encountering Mata. That this old woman was the key to whatever chance they had of defeating the Earth onslaught. Norma wasn’t ready to concede that by looking for answers she might not want to hear.
Teague laid his hand across her ribs. “I know how much you believe in her, but think about it. Wasn’t it a big coincidence that we happened to stumble upon her as she was jumping off the cliff? What better way to build sympathy for herself.”
“She was sincere. I saw it in her face.” Norma covered his hand with her own and brought it to her breast.
“Like you said, she practically built Pocketsville herself,” Teague replied. “It could have been easy for her to deck the whole thing out with devices that relay our every movement to the corporates.” He kissed her earlobe. “But I don’t want to think about that right now.”
Norma reached between his legs. “Neither do I.” But she knew she would.
~~~
Mata awoke at dawn, devoured a hearty breakfast of GTS infused vegetable stew, took a shower, dressed and did something she hadn’t done in months—removed the cloth covering a MediBot’s back plate. She had polished the back plate and hung it on the wall as a mirror. Since his discovery of who she was, J-1 insisted that she attend every strategy session. Today—the final day before the start of the trial—was no exception.
Mata picked up a hairbrush lying on a table below the repurposed back plate. She faced her reflection and ran the bristles through her meager, hoary scalp. As she did, she looked beyond the ugliness of her half nose; shriveled, lipless mouth; leathered cheeks; and droopy, lopsided maroon eyes. Today, she wasn’t ugly. She was beautiful. God had finally ended His games and given her what she had struggled for all these decades—her Jay. “No,” she said. “Not Jay, but a part of him.” It took her a long time to accept this, but still, she felt like the luckiest woman in the universe. She lowered the brush, shaped her hair, grabbed her cane and notepad, and headed for Prison House.
~~~
Norma sat in their makeshift council room and tapped her fingernails on the tabletop. J-1 and Mata sat on the opposite side of her. Mata was busy sketching in her notepad. Teague sat in his usual place, a corner near the back wall. Norma stopped clacking and said to J-1, “I’ve been thinking. Your guilt or innocence comes down to what the judges believe you’re capable of. Right now, the only thing they understand is that an Earther robot is a machine programmed to slaughter us.”
J-1 frowned. “Back to guilt by association. It isn’t fair.”
“Let’s not speak of fairness. This isn’t our people’s doing.”
J-1 remained quiet. He understood it was best to lose this argument.
“Prudence’s charge of abandonment,” Norma said, “comes down to he said, she said.”
“It said, she said,” Teague murmured.
“Yes,” Norma replied. “And we know who wins that contest.”
“But there’re a thousand holes in her story,” J-1 said.
“Yes.” Norma again anxiously tapped her nails.
“I’m screwed, aren’t I?” J-1 asked.
Mata stopped her sketching and squeezed his knee. J-1 saw fear in her eyes. She said, “He dangled you in front of me, waited for me to bite and now He’s jerking back the line. The holy fisherman!” She cackled.
Teague raised his eyebrows at Norma.
“Mata?” Norma asked.
Mata pointed at the ceiling. “He’s such a teaser!” She stood, hugged her sketchpad and danced in a small circle. “A real wild one!” She cackled again.
Bethel flung back the door. “Is there a problem here?”
Teague leaped up and raced to her. “Mata’s going over her witness account.” He guided Bethel back out the door. “Sorry, but it’s attorney-client privilege.” And quickly shut it. “We’ve got to quiet her down,” he said to Norma.
J-1 rushed to Mata and hugged her. He whispered in her ear, “You have to stay with us. For me, for you, and for Jay.”
“I can’t lose you,” Mata whimpered.
Teague looked at Norma as if to ask, “What the heck is this about?” She answered by shaking her head in confusion.
“And I can’t lose you. Please, Mata. Hold on. For me and for Jay.” J-1 cupped her gnarled cheeks between his hands and guided her eyes to his.
Mata stared at him a moment and nodded. She straightened her shoulders, looked at Norma and Teague, and said, “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
J-1 helped her to her chair. She went back to sketching. He took his place next to her. For the moment the only sounds that filled the room were the swish of Mata’s pencil strokes and the resumptive click-click of Norma’s nails against the tabletop.
Norma clasped her hands to force them to stop and renewed her conversation. “I began our talk by saying that our only chance comes down to what the judges believe are your internal guidelines regarding the sanctity of life.”
“I was programmed never to harm a human.” This was the truth, though he wasn’t going to mention anything about ingesting GTS and the effect it might have had on him.
“I believe you,” Norma said. “But that doesn’t matter. It’s what the three judges believe.” She cleared her throat. “Mata, do you have any suggestions how we can convince them?”
Teague and Norma watched the old woman.
Mata stopped sketching. “Well, I—”
“No,” J-1 said, knowing where this was leading. “She doesn’t.”
“I was asking her,” Norma said.
“And I’m answering for her,” J-1 replied.
“Relax, friend.” There was a firm edge in Teague’s tone. Norma raised her hand at him. Teague smiled and leaned back in his seat.
“Do you think my ideas could make a difference?” Mata asked Norma.
“I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t.”
“Don’t make her do this,” J-1 said. “They’ll only want to hang both of us.”
“We don’t hang here,” Teague said. “That’s an Earther thing. We electri-ray.”
“And incinerate,” J-1 added.
“Enough,” Norma said to them. She went to Mata and knelt beside her. “To answer your question, let’s suppose you suggest to me that you could prove J-1 was programmed to never behave in a manner that would lead to the harm of a human—from any planet—under any circumstance. It would be difficult to find him guilty of abandoning Prudence to the Dark Prey.”
“Let’s suppose the only way she could do that would be to reveal she was an Earthling,” J-1 said. “What then?”
“Then that would potentially put her at risk for, as you put it, guilt by association.”
“What if she was drawing up plans for a new weapon to turn the tide
of the war? Something that could take down Ameri-Inc. saucercraft?” Mata held up her sketchpad.
“That’s definitely a plus,” Teague interjected.
“It won’t make a difference. They’ll take the plans and lock you up,” J-1 said. “I saw the look in the guards’ eyes when they tried to melt me down. They hate anything and anyone from Earth no matter who they are.”
Norma clutched Mata’s hand. “It’s up to you.”
Mata looked at J-1.
“Don’t do it, they’ll kill you.”
“Without you, my life doesn’t matter anyway.” She turned to Norma. “What do you need me to do?”
Chapter Fifty
Date: 2250
Planet Truatta
Mining Compound Alpha One
Two battalions, each consisting of three hundred militiamen, stood in twin formations facing a raised observation deck. All six hundred pairs of eyes stared up at Rebeka. Xia stood next to her. Seated about eight feet behind them were her five Joint Chiefs. The observation deck faced the landing and takeoff base, which was located a hundred yards in front of them. The militia was dressed in deceptively simple hooded black onesies. A Clamp ZTq machine gun was strapped across each of their right shoulders. Rebeka glanced at Xia, who was attired in a somber black overcoat, high-top beaver skin hat and black trousers. She could see by the glow in his eyes that the columns of shadow-like soldiers impressed him.
“Each of their onesies is constructed of carboticron fabric. They’re practically indestructible. The material is interwoven with the latest force repulsion and communication gear. It’s weather adaptable and like the Clamp machine gun, when activated it replicates the look of their surroundings to make them nearly invisible.” Rebeka used her explanation as an excuse to clutch Xia’s hand and squeeze it. He kept his eyes on the troops and moved his hand away.
Rebeka tugged on her double-breasted black suit jacket to hide her disappointment. She had immediately noticed the change in him following his return from Earth last week. The first night, she recalled, they didn’t make love, only talked.
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