City of the Automatons

by Francesco Bertolino

  Sitting in front of the mirror, Kyra brushed her hair slowly, relishing the simple act that reconciled her with her femininity. Lately, she thought, she had been living more like a man than a woman, and that troubled her greatly. She had seen similar transformations take place in many women soldiers: one day you stopped taking care of your appearance, then you started to talk, dress, drink like a man, and so on, until you only remembered you were a woman when undressed...

  She studied her reflection in the mirror and was pleased with what she saw: high cheekbones, full lips, regular features, smooth tanned skin. Overall, a face that could bring many men to their knees. She smiled at herself with mischief, but inevitably her glance fell upon the reflection of her left eye. Crossed by a thin, bleached scar, the eye stared back at her as if it were not her own. Empty, dead and useless.

  How she hated it.

  Even though the flesh wound had been partially healed by time, she could not say the same of the wound that marked her soul. She remembered the agonizing days after the accident all too well, when, consumed by anger, she had wanted to erase her whole face and cease to exist. It had taken months to learn how to accept herself, and to start to feel like a complete woman again. Inside, however, the damage had been huge, and maybe permanent. She concealed her discomfort well when she was among people, and still managed to convey the idea of a strong and seductive woman, but it was a game that cost her greatly.

  She thought of Dorian, so far from her that she struggled to recall the angular features of his face in their entirety. The only person in the world who really cared about her, the only person with whom she could be herself, and she had seemingly managed to erase him from her life. She also thought of Raduan, the way they had parted: his bearded face flushed with anger, his deep black eyes fixed on hers with fury. Would he ever be able to forgive her?

  She almost jumped at the knock on the door.

  “Come in” she said. She put the brush away, and prepared to welcome her guests.

  “With permission, boss” said Fishbone, sticking his head around the door, “I have hand-picked a few individuals, as you asked.”

  “Good, come in. I want to meet them in person.”

  Fishbone came first. He was followed by a haughty-looking woman: her hard face, topped by a shock of black hair, looked neither old nor young. Slender and petite, she wore tight-fitting black clothes, and she moved like a cat. Kyra didn’t remember seeing her at the feast.

  She gave her a nod as she passed before her. The woman did not answer, but simply threw her a distrustful look.

  The third person had to stoop to enter.

  And once again, Kyra was facing that grim smile full of false teeth that she had come to know well. Kwan Shark-Teeth must really be worthy if Fishbone had called on him despite the bad blood that ran between them.

  The raven-haired woman freed a chair from a pile of clothes, tossing them away unceremoniously, and sat with her legs crossed. Kwan dropped onto the bed, and for a moment Kyra thought that he was about to lie down: she made a mental note to change the sheets at the first opportunity.

  She studied the three of them for a while, before speaking:

  “Do you know why I have summoned you?”

  “Because we are the best, I suppose” replied the woman, scornfully.

  “That remains to be seen” said Kyra.

  The other’s eyes narrowed to slits.

  “It has been proven countless times in the past, and without your approval.”

  “What is your name?” asked Kyra, choosing to ignore the provocation “And why have I not seen you before?”

  “You have not seen me because I was not here, and I don’t have to answer to you.”

  “There goes my authority...” thought Kyra.

  “Suit yourself” she said “But didn’t I ask your name?”

  “Bah!” snapped the woman, annoyed by Kyra’s impassiveness “If you really want to know, my name is Selita.”

  “And no one can move in the shadows as she does” said Fishbone.

  “Hush! Why did I listen to you in the first place?”

  “Perhaps because of your sense of duty...”

  “Shut up or I swear I’ll...!”

  “Selita, then” continued Kyra, ignoring the quarrel. “If Fishbone is telling the truth about you, your skills will be of great help to us.”

  “Of great help for what, if it isn’t too much to ask?”

  “All in good time. And you, big guy” she asked the perpetually grinning Kwan “How can you be of help?”

  Rather than giving her a clear answer, the man began to gesticulate, tracing signs in the air with his fingertips. Kyra was confused, and Fishbone explained:

  “Kwan says that you are skilled, boss, but he also says that you may need his muscles. Brute force can count more than agility, depending on the situation.”

  “Well, I think we can agree on that” she replied, puzzled by the strange form of communication.

  “Kwan has been dumb since birth” Fishbone told her, “Meaning he communicates in signs. And I had to learn them under duress to be able to pass on his orders to the others. The life of a right-hand man can be really hard sometimes. But what else can I do, it’s all I know...”

  He glanced at Kwan with a grimace of contempt, before going on:

  “Anyway, I agree with him for once: you won’t find two arms as strong as his in all of Dekka. Just as you won’t find a mind sharper than mine, so I gave myself permission to attend this meeting.”

  “Ah... such modesty!” Kyra said, returning his smile.

  “Now that we are all friends, could you explain why the hell you summoned us, boss?” sneered Selita, emphasising the last word with obvious sarcasm.

  She was going to be a hard nut to crack, Kyra thought. For some reason, she wasn’t willing to accept her authority. How was she going to react then to the request she was about to make?

  “The reason? It’s simple. I want you to help me enter the Factory.”

  Selita’s pupils dilated in disbelief. Fishbone responded with a laugh, but Kyra did not accompany him, and the laughter died on his lips. He turned as white as a sheet.

  “I retract everything I said: for having submitted voluntarily to this I am certainly the most foolish man in town!”

  “Is that some kind of joke?” asked Selita.

  “No, it isn’t. I must recover something from there; or rather, someone...”

  “I won’t waste my time on this madness!” shouted Selita, rising to her feet.

  “Go, then, but you will have to find yourself another gang. There is no place for cowards among my Dock Rats” Kyra said.

  Selita gave her a look as sharp as a knife, and for a moment she seemed about to attack her physically. Then, trembling with rage, she sat back down. Kyra held her glare, before turning her attention to the other two. Kwan, who didn’t seem very upset, began to gesticulate. Fishbone snorted and laughed.

  “Our genius wants to know how we break through the front door. He fears the Automatons will prove too strong even for him!”

  “He can rest easy: that is not how we will enter. But before we go into detail, I need to know if you will stand by me all the way.”

  Kwan merely grunted, with an affirmative nod. Fishbone gave a shrug, sighed, and said that he would as well. They turned towards Selita: she bit her lip, shook her head, but finally nodded.

  “You can count on me: I have never stepped back in my life, and I’m not about to begin today” she said, giving Kyra a look of defiance “But let me tell you this: it’s a very bad idea!”

  “Perfect!” Kyra exclaimed, embracing them all with a grateful smile.

  Although there was no harmony between them, that agreement was a first step. Too bad that her action plan was going to cause further quarrels.

  “To begin with” she said “How about a little excursion into the city sewers?”

  ------

  “Brilliant!” Selita growled, shaki
ng stinking mud from her boot. Not for the first time since they had set foot in the tunnels, she made no effort to conceal her disgust.

  “If you have a better plan, I’m all ears” snapped Kyra, who had had enough of her negative attitude.

  “To be honest, I’ve already got one! Let’s turn round and go home before we suffocate in this stench...”

  Kwan grunted, in an imitation of laughter.

  “Very funny” snorted Kyra. “Instead of wasting time joking, why don’t you try telling me where we are?”

  They had been walking in torchlight for a couple of hours at least, and were slowly approaching the foundations of the Factory. Their reconnaissance of the previous days had shown that it would be useless to try to access the system from anywhere nearer their goal: to prevent intrusion of any type, every possible entry had been sealed from the outside, in a mile’s radius of the Factory. Dinor had thought of everything.

  After painstaking research, and undeniable stress, they had finally discovered the best access point to the sewers. A block away from the port the black mouth of a tunnel spewed waste into the sea, and it was from there that they had had to enter. Kyra’s stomach turned merely recalling it. The only detail she remembered with pleasure was the patch of starry sky at the mouth of the tunnel, when she had looked back one last time before beginning the long march.

  Since then, they had relied solely upon Fishbone’s instincts.

  Ferret-face had collected a great deal of information on the tunnel network, and roughly knew in what direction to move. Or at least that was what they were all hoping: it seemed impossible that Fishbone had not yet lost his bearings in that labyrinth of channels, trap doors and ladders, even more so considering that they were moving within the narrow circle of torchlight. An oppressive silence hung around them, broken only by their steps and by the squeaking of rats. No sound came from the streets above their heads: the layer of rock was too thick. They were completely alone in the darkness.

  “We should almost be there, chief” said Fishbone, showing some hesitation “The channels are getting narrower, so...”

  “We should be almost there, or we are almost there?” interrupted Selita.

  “Hey, this is the first time I’ve ever taken a trip around the sewers, okay? Get over it! But we are heading in the right direction, I’m sure of it. As I was saying, the channels get narrower as we move toward the center of the network.”

  “So we’re about to enter the hot zone...” said Kyra.

  “Exactly. We’d better stay alert: if they’ve put such effort to preventing access from the outside, it is likely that there are security measures even down here.”

  As they cautiously walked on in silence, Kyra noticed the tunnel walls becoming ever filthier. She was trying to work out why, when an unexpected light, coming from a spot in front of them, caught her attention. They stopped and took stock of the situation. Kyra listened carefully, but couldn’t hear anything abnormal. She motioned to proceed with caution.

  The tunnel opened into a dimly lit space: the light source turned out to be a crack in the rock, near the ceiling. The room had a vaguely circular shape with a central pool into which the sewage flowed from three different drains. To one side, a couple of rats were fighting over an old apple core. Given the intensity of light, Fishbone reckoned it must be late morning. This meant that they must have been underground for longer than Kyra had imagined.

  “Let’s take a break” she suggested “This seems as good place as any.”

  No one complained. Kwan was the first to sit next to the pool, and the others followed. They put out their torches and enjoyed what little natural light filtered in from the outside. Tested by the long walk, and not in the mood for conversation, each remained silently absorbed in their thoughts. Kyra noticed that Fishbone kept looking at the triple junction of the tunnel, switching from one channel to the other with nervous head movements. He seemed confused about which direction to take.

  “Assuming that we aren’t already lost” Selita began without warning “How will we get into the Factory? They’re certainly not going to be rolling out a red carpet for us!”

  “One problem at a time...” Kyra said, wearily.

  “Uhmpf! Thanks for that, I feel much calmer now!”

  Kyra didn’t reply. She had become immune to Selita’s constant criticism. As long as it was just verbal, it didn’t touch her. On the contrary, the woman’s hostility gave her a twinge of pleasure. Perhaps she had unintentionally usurped Selita in the long line of pretenders for the gang command: this would explain her loathing. Did the viper really want her place? Let her try and take it! She threw her an innocent smile, and let Selita keep her sour look.

  Kwan grunted, attracting their attention. He put a finger to his ear, and then indicated the entrance of the central tunnel. They all held their breath and focused on the sound.

  “Do you hear it too?” Fishbone asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Hear what?” snapped Selita.

  “Shhh!” said Kyra “Yes, I can hear it... But what...?”

  What at first had seemed a distant hum was becoming an increasingly intense gurgle. Whatever it was, it was advancing with speed in their direction. She glanced at the spot where the two rats had been: just as she had feared, the apple core had been abandoned. No trace of the rodents. And when the rats jump ship...

  “Get up!” she shouted “I don’t like it, let’s go back!”

  Just a few steps later, the origin of the disturbing sound was revealed: black liquid flooded towards them like an avalanche from the middle channel. It was thick, pungent and oily, and carried with it a mixture of waste, debris and half drowned rats. Fishbone, with a sharp cry, climbed on to the shoulders of Kwan, who was staring at the scene frozen. Kyra searched for a hold and managed to scale the tunnel wall at the exact moment that Selita was swallowed by the black torrent

  “Now what?” she thought, stunned. She had to come up with something quickly, or they would all drown! She climbed the wall like a spider, grateful for the cracks between the bricks. She looked down: the blackish flow was almost licking her ankles. Just a little more, and...

  She looked again, in disbelief. The level was falling, not rising! She was overwhelmed with relief as the black wave subsided as fast as it had appeared, to finally vanish down the gutter. As well as a thick layer of tar, it also left Selita, covered with filth from head to foot.

  “W-what the hell happened?” she choked.

  “I have no idea!” said Kyra, testing the ground with the toe of her boot.

  “Oil...” murmured Fishbone, still clinging to Kwan’s back like a bird on a perch. When he realized, he jumped down with a little cry of surprise, and blushed deeply. The giant, filthy from the chest down, scratched his head. He hadn’t even noticed Fishbone’s presence.

  “Oil?” asked Kyra.

  “Yes, the same black oil the Automatons guzzle. Is this how the Factory gets rid of it, once it is used?”

  “And from here it goes straight into the sea...”

  “...it spreads...”

  “...and kills all the fish!”

  “Fish? Who cares about the bloody fish, damn you!” snapped Selita, in her pitiful state. Kwan pulled back a strand of sticky hair from her forehead, laughing, but she slapped his hand away.

  “Try to see the positive side, Selita” said Fishbone.

  “For all my efforts, I still can’t see it!” she spat.

  “The wave of oil can only mean one thing: that we are very close to the Factory, and that the right path is through the central tunnel!”

  “With a little luck, there won’t be any precautions where the oil discharges” said Kyra “It might just be the entrance we’re looking for!”

  “Wonderful news, I can’t wait to stick my head through that hole!” said Selita, wiping her face with a handkerchief.

  “Let’s move on” said Kyra “I don’t want to be here when the next wave comes.”

  She retrieve
d one of the torches: it was covered with tar. She tried to clean it, leaving just a thin black layer at the end.

  “They say it’s flammable: let’s see if it is true.”

  She busied herself with the tinderbox, and a moment later a burning flame was dancing on the tip of the torch.

  “They were right. Light your torches as well, but be careful, or we will end up roasted. Especially you, Selita.”

  “Very funny!”

  They resumed their journey along the central channel, advancing with some difficulty through the tarry quagmire. As they proceeded, the tunnel narrowed, until its width was no greater than three feet. The atmosphere became even more claustrophobic, and the darkness, like a living thing, became more oppressive: the torches were unable to cut through it for more than a few steps. To make matters worse, the air was filled with the oil’s acrid smell.

  They continued until Fishbone, who was leading the group, called a halt. He put a finger to his lips, asking for silence, then he gazed into the darkness in front of him searchingly. Kyra approached him, tense. She could not see or feel anything unusual, but she felt a slight discomfort in her stomach, as if something very unpleasant was about to happen.

  She blinked, and two bright red orbs appeared in the darkness in front of her making her wince. A loud hum pervaded the tunnel and made the walls vibrate. The two orbs did not move, but they burnt an ever brighter red. There was a loud click, and a brilliant light forced the four companions to shield their eyes.

  Kyra peeked through her fingers, semi-blinded, and saw that the light came from a series of tubes hanging from the ceiling. They were not common lights: the light they gave off was cold and white, almost alien. She forced herself to look forward, through tears, towards the red circles, and had to stifle a cry: the two orbs were nothing less than the eyes of an Automaton, whose bulk of burnished metal took up an entire section of the tunnel. She heard a curse behind her, and realised that the others had seen it too.

  The metallic being stood motionless, wrapped in its irritating hum. It was as tall as the ceiling, a massive cylindrical trunk supported by two heavy metal-rimmed wheels. The head was a vertical rectangle grafted onto the upper torso, devoid of features, with the exception of the crimson eyes. But what most frightened Kyra were the creature’s arms: not two, but six; long, jointed and equipped with numerous spikes, blades and hooks. That appalling arsenal left no doubt as to the function of the Automaton.

  The machine began to move: with a sinister creak, it advanced towards them, slowly at first, then faster and faster. It was huge, and there seemed no way to dodge it. They had fallen into a trap: the Factory was inaccessible from that side too.

  With surprising speed, Selita gripped the small crossbow she carried strapped to her back. She took aim and shot two darts in rapid succession. Both hit the moving target with precision, one in the head and the other in the torso, but they bounced off its armor harmlessly.

  “Get back, hurry!” yelled Kyra.

  They turned their backs on the creature and tried to outrun it. It was fast, but if they could reach the branch between the tunnels, they may be able to escape from it. When Kyra looked up however, she saw something in the cold white light that made her scream in frustration: at the mouth of the tunnel, heavy metal bars had sprung from nowhere, blocking the passage. They were trapped like rats.

  She stopped abruptly, and the others almost trampled her.

  “What the hell...” Selita began. Then she saw the bars, and groaned.

  “We can’t go back!” shouted Kyra “It will crush us against the bars. We have to make our stand here!”

  “That’s easy to say!” replied Fishbone, in panic “That thing will wipe us out without even noticing!”

  The Automaton continued its advance, accompanied by the constant hum. Was it an impression, or was the sound increasing in a cruel throb of expectation? Its inhuman eyes blazed with the intensity of small bonfires.

  Kwan pushed Kyra aside.

  “Stop! There’s no way out!”

  The giant didn’t even look at her. He ran up to a pile of waste that nearly blocked the passage - Kyra remembered stepping over it a few minutes before. He rummaged frantically among the waste in search of something useful. A moment later, he grabbed the edge of something stuck in the pile and pulled at it with all the strength he could muster, his muscles bulging. The wreck of an old door emerged: time had made it unrecognizable, but it still looked robust.

  The others positioned themselves behind him. Kwan turned the door horizontally, and wedged it between the walls as best as he could, propping it up with his weight. Protected by the improvised shield, the four stood waiting for the Automaton’s inevitable impact. Fishbone closed his eyes and screamed as the collision shook the walls. Even though the door sent splinters of wood all around, it withstood the crash. Kwan gave a shout of defiance, doubling the pressure, and Kyra immediately joined him.

  The Automaton did not give up.

  It rolled back a few feet, and then charged again, once, twice, three times, its wheels turning madly. It whirled its armed limbs and tried to attack the four from above, but Kyra kept close watch, deflecting every thrust with her dagger. Kwan, his neck veins swollen and his back muscles stretched to the limit, began to show signs of weakening.

  “He won’t hold up much longer, we must change our tactics!” shouted Selita in the din “Let me try something!”

  She grabbed the torch and tried to hurl it over the heads of Kwan and Kyra, aiming to burn the Automaton. Fishbone only just managed to block her, snatching the torch from her hand.

  “Are you crazy?” he cried “Have you forgotten that we are soaked with oil? Do you want to burn us all alive?”

  “Ahh! Let me do it, you idiot! Do you have a better idea? That damn thing will break through our barrier and tear us apart!”

  “Calm down! We will make it!” said Kyra, while continuing to fend off the Automaton’s swift arms.

  At that pace, she thought, the mechanical being would soon find a gap in her defences. The speed of the attacks was superhuman, and, unlike herself and Kwan, who would soon run out of energy, the Automaton did not show signs of fatigue... Selita was right on this at least: they had to change their tactics.

  She strove to keep calm and think, despite the desperate situation - how many times had this happened with the Company? She let her trained body keep up the fight alone, like a machine with automatic reflexes, and isolated her mind in search of a solution.

  Every enemy had a weak spot. It was all down to finding it before it was too late.

  With a degree of recklessness she put her eye to a crack in the middle of the door. She had to analyze the Automaton’s movements. She studied its figure coldly, as if she were a league away: the head, the torso, the arms and wheels. Everything seemed manufactured and assembled with skill, it was a perfect killing machine.

  But just maybe...

  If there was even a tiny chance of success, she had to try.

  A quick glance to her right confirmed a detail that her mind had noted moments before and that would now come in very handy: she grabbed a stick and pulled it from the waste. It was even sturdier than she had hoped. She clenched it in one hand and lay outstretched under the protection of the door.

  “What are you doing? Are you crazy?” Fishbone squealed, terrified.

  For an awful moment Kyra found herself at the mercy of the Automaton, looming over her. Then, with a sudden, startling movement, she jammed the stick between the spokes of one of its wheels. The creature extended its arms to nail her, but it pierced the bare ground: Kyra had already slipped back to shelter.

  “Fall back!” she shouted, tugging Kwan to abandon the improvised shield.

  They ran after her to the bottom of the tunnel. Behind them, the cacophony from the Automaton showed no sign of letting up. When they neared the metal bars, just one impossible step away from freedom, they turned to witness the destruction of the old door. The creature’s
tireless mechanical arms had finally prevailed.

  With the way open before it, the Automaton tried to advance, but the rod stuck in the wheel prevented it from doing so. The hum of the metal body grew in intensity, and gray smoke began to pour from its joints, as if the effort was pushing it to the limit.

  “Come on!” Kyra urged, under the hopeful eyes of her companions “Come on, try harder, damn you! Destroy yourself!”

  The Automaton seemed to take up the challenge, and renewed its efforts. The sound became almost unbearable. The smoke streamed out, thick and dark, and flooded the tunnel.

  “Come on!” Kyra said, shaking her fists.

  With a loud pop, a couple of spokes in the Automaton’s wheel shattered. The stick Kyra had placed there sprang away, slamming against a wall, and freeing the wheel. Selita let out a cry of despair, and dug her nails into Fishbone’s arm. Kyra’s failed attempt had only delayed the inevitable.

  The Automaton resumed its relentless charge.

  Now free to attack again, its eyes burned like the flames of hell.

  XIII - Tiny Experiments