by Lee Bacon
Emma held up a hand. “Here. Let me help.”
I stepped away from her. “I do not want your help.”
Abandoning my efforts to remove the shirt, I allowed it to hang from my shoulders.
“We should have never trusted you.” I glared sharply at her. “Now we are being hunted. We will never be able to return to our jobs. Our FamilyUnits. Our lives.”
SkD let out a warning beep. I ignored it. I continued speaking.
“It is too late to undo the mistakes I have already made. But I refuse to help you any longer.”
Sorrow chased desperation around Emma’s face. “Please, XR. If I could just . . .”
I did not want to hear the rest of what she had to say. I turned around and walked in the other direction.
SkD caught up with me. Its treads spinning, its screen glowing.
I stopped long enough to say, “I do not care that it upsets you. I am leaving.”
I started walking again. I did not look back.
01010101
Ceeron and Emma called after me, but I did not slow down. Soon their voices faded entirely. All I could hear were the thump of my footsteps against the ground and the thwack of branches bending/cracking/breaking.
I had plenty of battery left. I could recharge at the mall, then continue the rest of the way.
But what would happen when I got home?
What kind of punishment would I face for betraying the Hive?
I deleted these questions. They did not matter now. All that mattered was getting away.
Away from the human.
Away from her lies.
I turned up my speed settings until the world around me transformed into a green blur. Trees/Bushes/Vines—everything blended into everything else.
I stumbled over a fallen log. My knee crashed hard against the ground. Sensors in my leg registered the impact. Messages flashed through my circuitry.
WARNING!
ENVIRONMENTAL DANGER!
REDUCE SPEED!
I disabled the messages. I climbed to my feet and kept going.
Accessing my memory drive, I tagged every interaction with Emma. I hit Play. All the memories started at once. Thousands of them. They swirled through my mind like ashes in a burning building.
Some of the files were tiny. Their loop lasted only a few seconds. The flicker of Emma’s smile. A sudden burst of laughter at a joke I did not comprehend. Others took up more space. When I discovered Emma hiding behind the storage station. When we walked side by side through the dark/ruined mall.
Strange how memories can be both familiar/unfamiliar.
Both identical/different.
The moments themselves had not changed. They were projected in the cinema of my mind with perfect accuracy. All of them.
I, on the other hand . . .
I had changed. I had gained knowledge of Emma’s deception. Of her manipulation. And now, as thousands of memories played on thousands of loops, I analyzed every single word/gesture/action, and I wondered . . .
Was any of it true?
Was any of it real?
My thoughts were so tangled up in memories of Emma that I did not notice the tree branch. The gnarled, moss-covered limb blended into the green landscape until—
WHAP!
The branch hit me in the face, knocking me sideways. My feet tripped over themselves. My balance settings skewed wildly. The world spun. I tried to steady myself by grabbing a tree. But my aim was off. Instead, I seized hold of—
Nothing.
A handful of empty air.
I lurched forward. The ground dropped out from beneath me. I tumbled down a steep hill.
Rolling/Flipping/Sliding/Slamming/Twisting.
Through this chaos, my visual ports registered a view beneath me.
A river.
The sight of it sent a new message blazing through my system.
WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!
I tried to stop myself from sliding. I grasped at roots/rocks/branches, but I was falling too quickly.
I calculated the distance of the hill (23 meters), the angle (49.7 degrees), Earth’s gravitational constant (9.807 m/s2). Hundreds of equations rattled inside my metal skull. I was the most advanced piece of technology this world had ever seen. And I was completely helpless.
I continued to fall.
Down/Down/Down
Down/Down/Down
Down/Down/Down
Down/Down/Down
Down/Down/Down
Down/Down/Down
Down/Down/Down
Down/Down/Down
01010110
The memories kept playing.
In the mayhem, I could not disable them. Thousands of memories playing on thousands of loops. They flickered through my mental wiring, even as the world spun wildly.
As I fell, Emma fell, too.
She clattered through my steel head like a pebble inside a jar. Bouncing against my brain as I tumbled.
Down/Down/Down
. . . a pair of frightened eyes looking up at me from behind a storage station . . .
Down/Down/Down
. . . a leaf twirling between Emma’s fingers . . .
Down/Down/Down
. . . exploring the mall like two children from a vanished time long ago . . .
Down/Down/Down
. . . listening to the rhythm of Emma’s human breath as morning filled the sky . . .
Down/Down/Down
01010111
SPLASH!
My legs plunged into the river up to my knees. The rest of me would have followed, but I grabbed a tree root at the last possible moment. My downward momentum suddenly halted.
The current rushed around the metal contours of my legs. I could feel the force of the water.
Tugging at me.
Trying to rip me away.
Trying to take me with it.
My fingers tightened over the root. I held on with a single hand.
Twisting my body sideways, I attempted to swing my other arm around. If I could just get a second hand on the root, I might be able to lift myself, to climb out of the water.
I lunged for the root with my free hand. I missed. I did not even come close.
My brain clouded with calculations. Length of arm/Distance to root/Angle of reach. I gathered my findings. The result blinked through my circuitry.
Impossible
I did not need to be a highly advanced piece of technology to understand my problem: No matter what I did, I was going to end up in the same place.
The river.
The howl of rushing water filled my audio ports. The river was constant/endless/deadly. It would not let go. But sooner or later, I would. My grip on the root was loosening. The force of the water was too powerful.
A definition pulsed through my thoughts.
Inevitable. Adjective. 1. Certain to happen.
2. Unavoidable.
It was only a matter of time until the river swallowed me.
My fingers slipped.
I knew what was coming.
It was inevitable.
I tried to distract myself by counting to a million. In binary. An avalanche of ones and zeroes. But I kept getting distracted.
By the river pulling at me.
And by thoughts of my FamilyUnit. The secrets I had kept from them. The words I would never get to say.
I am sorry.
I had my reasons.
Goodbye.
I thought about my coworkers. About the time we spent together in the solar farm (81,216 hours). About the number of solar panels we installed (1,300,158). About the number of times I told them they were my friends (0).
And I thought about Emma. Even now, the memory loop continued to play.
The water was getting into my system, corrupting my processing. One memory stood out. Bigger and brighter than all the others. A memory I had never accessed before. A memory of Emma—
Reaching for me.
Her fingers stretched towa
rd mine.
Her voice loud above roaring water.
“XR! Take my hand!”
That is when I understood my misunderstanding. This was not a memory.
This was happening.
Here/Now.
Emma had found me.
She was trying to save my life.
01011000
Water rushed beneath me. Emma was perched above. But she was not alone. Farther up the hill, I caught sight of SkD. One of its telescoping arms was extended. Emma held tightly to its claw. The only thing keeping her from falling.
But what was keeping SkD from falling?
This question found its answer when my gaze moved up the hill. I saw a giant metal hand. Attached to a giant metal arm. Connected to a giant metal body.
Ceeron.
The robot gripped a tree with one hand and SkD with the other. Its enormous feet were planted into the tilted earth. Its white eyes glowed down at me.
I looked at the three of them. Ceeron/SkD/Emma. They formed a chain. Three links down a hill. Robot/Robot/Human. All working toward the same purpose. All working to rescue me.
“Grab on, XR!” Emma called out. “We’ve got you!”
I swung my free arm.
I grabbed Emma’s hand.
I became the fourth link in the chain.
01011001
Once we had all safely reached the top of the hill, I collapsed onto the grass. The only sound in my audio ports was the loud hum of my own operating system. The whirring of a dozen different overworked internal processors.
Emma lay beside me. Her chest rose and fell with each heavy gasp. Her internal operating system must have been overworked, too.
I looked at her. She looked at me.
I said, “Thank you.”
She replied, “I’m sorry.”
“I put all of you at risk,” I said.
“So did I,” she replied.
“I understand why you did what you did.”
“I should have told you sooner.”
I shook my head. “What you did was logical. If you had told us your true destination, it would have increased the risk. For you. And for the other humans.”
These last words hung in my memory drive. Other humans.
I sat up suddenly. “The other humans. Your FamilyUnit. They still need your help.”
From my experience with Emma, I had learned that a single human face can hold many emotions. Sometimes, they are hidden beneath the surface. Only visible from the faint flicker of an eyelid or the slight parting of a mouth. Other times, a human’s feelings spill out over their face like a cracked egg. They go everywhere at once.
This was one of those times.
At the mention of her FamilyUnit, Emma’s features flooded with emotions. Love/Fear/Sadness.
And hope.
After leaving the only home she had ever known, traveling all this way, risking her life . . .
She was so close.
Emma bolted onto her feet. “I have to get to that bunker!”
Ceeron climbed to its full height. “I am coming with you.”
SkD’s screen flashed with a thumbs-up.
Emma glanced uncertainly in my direction. So did my coworkers.
I did not hesitate. “Let us go.”
But this was not quite so simple. When I tried to stand, I realized: The water had damaged my legs. I tumbled onto my side.
Attempt[2] through Attempt[4] went just as poorly. Each time, I collapsed to the ground.
My memory drive accessed a scene from Day[1]. My very first minutes on Earth. Inside my home. My FamilyUnit watching, their eyes glowing blue in the dim/windowless cube, as I repeatedly staggered and crashed to the floor.
I was not failing.
I was learning.
And now, it seemed, I had to learn all over again.
On Attempt[5], I was halfway between standing and falling when a hand appeared in front of me. Emma’s hand. I grabbed on to it, steadying myself.
“Can you walk?” Emma asked.
“Only one way to find out,” I replied.
Grasping hold of Emma’s hand, I took a step. The sensors in the bottom half of my legs no longer worked. I did not feel the impact of the ground under my feet. But I did not fall either.
Gripping Emma’s hand tightly, I took several more steps. With each one, I felt more capable. My balance realigned. A thousand different settings recalibrated.
A smile filled Emma’s face. “You’re doing great.”
We set into motion. Moving through the forest as quickly as my numb legs could carry me. The entire way, I held on to Emma. And she held on to me. And together we staggered back in the direction of the bunker.
Pushing through a wall of branches, we emerged into the clearing. As I started toward the hatch, I felt a change in the air.
A burst of wind.
A storm appearing in the middle of a calm/clear day.
All around me, the trees broke into a fit of shivering.
I glanced up and saw it.
An enormous silver X hovering above us.
01011010
I had seen the flying machine before. On Day[1]. The Transport-Drone. A robot that flies other robots from one place to another. Now here it was again. Its engines roaring, its propellers slicing the sky into tiny bits.
I adjusted my vocal settings to full volume. “RUN!”
We turned back toward the forest. I was not able to run quickly on my numb legs. It did not matter. Before any of us could make it very far, the wall of green branches burst apart and a nightmare stepped through.
A HunterBot.
Its sharp claws ripped at the earth. Its metal teeth clanked together viciously.
We spun, staggering in the opposite direction. But as we neared the other side of the clearing, something moved behind the trees. A flicker of silver. A pair of glowing red eyes.
A second HunterBot emerged.
It was joined by others. They came from all sides. Graceful/Powerful/Dangerous. Predators locked on their prey. They had us surrounded.
The chop of propellers drew my eyes upward. The Transport-Drone hovered just above the tree line, blocking out the sky. A section of its giant metal belly separated from the rest of the craft.
A metal O in the exact center of the TransportDrone.
The round platform was eight meters across. Suspended by four cables, it slowly/steadily lowered.
Down/Down/Down.
The wind kicked dirt/leaves/grass into the air. Emma covered her eyes. Her clothes flapped wildly.
So did mine. The flower-print shirt billowed around me.
KA-THUNK! The platform came to rest on the ground in the middle of the clearing. It covered the hatch underneath.
I glanced at the HunterBots. They stood alert, their postures identical. Hunched and ready. Waiting/Watching. They were not here to attack us. They were here to keep us from fleeing. And to encourage us forward, onto the platform.
We had two options:
[1] Run.
[2] Step onto the platform.
If we selected Option[1], we would be ripped apart by Hunter-Bots. It was a certainty.
And so I selected Option[2].
I stepped onto the platform.
One by one, the others reached the same decision. SkD rolled slowly over the edge of the platform. A moment later, Ceeron joined it.
Emma held out the longest. Framed by the chaos of windblown hair, her face was full of anguish. She had come all this way. The other bunker was so close.
And impossible to reach.
Completely covered by a giant metal O.
Robots never do anything by accident. And this was no exception. The TransportDrone must have seen the hatch. Which is why it lowered the platform at exactly this spot.
To cover the hatch.
To make sure nobody could get in/out.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Emma moved forward. Angry footsteps stomping the metal surface.
The platform jolted into motion. Slowly lifting us toward the TransportDrone. I raised my visual ports, staring into the opening. A strange glow illuminated the interior.
The platform continued to rise.
Up/Up/Up.
Into the belly of the giant flying robot.
01011011
We emerged through the floor of the TransportDrone. As I looked around, everything I saw was familiar/unfamiliar.
I had never been here before. But I had seen it thousands of times. Inside my mind. Streamed across the Hive.
This was where PRES1DENT delivered its Daily Address.
We were inside the DigitalDome.
The walls were covered in screens. So was the ceiling that arched high above our heads. Thousands of screens, each showing the exact same thing.
Us.
Ceeron/SkD/Emma/Me.
Everywhere I looked—there we were.
When I turned around, the movement was reflected in all the screens. Instantly/Simultaneously.
Where were the cameras? Invisibly integrated into the walls? Attached to nanobots, machines so small we could not see them?
My glance darted around the room. Thousands of versions of me mimicked the gesture.
The effect was dizzying. My visual ports were overwhelmed. Perhaps this is why it took me so long to notice:
We were not alone.
01011100
I saw its eyes first. Golden like the sun.
Staring at me.
The tall/slender silhouette of a robot was framed against the backdrop of bright screens. Dark as a shadow. Except for those glowing eyes.
The robot strode in our direction.
The curtain of darkness lifted, revealing its features. Brushed platinum skin. A barcode printed on its breastplate. I did not need to perform a scan. I already knew the robot’s name.
PRES1DENT.
Its footsteps clicked quietly against the floor. Until it stood right in front of us. The president’s golden gaze landed on Emma.