Steel Guardian

by Cameron Coral

  The woman regarded him. “Why do you have a baby anyway?”

  “Long story.”

  “Next question,” she said, sounding irritated. “What are you going to do with me? I see my owner got herself killed.”

  He had no idea what to tell the woman. He supposed she was his property now, but he really wasn’t sure. Could a human be a robot’s property? He’d never heard of such a thing, and wondered what Mr. Wallace would think about the situation.

  Against the wall of the van, the woman let out a long sigh. “This is fucked. I’m in a van with a robot and a freaking baby.” She banged her head against Sammy’s metal frame.

  Block had finally gotten what he wanted. Here he was with a human woman, someone better equipped to take care of the baby. The only problem was, she was a prisoner and possibly dangerous.

  He’d gotten a robot killed, and now the baby was ill. Could he do anything right?

  Everything had gone wrong when Mr. Wallace had died. Also his fault.

  And if he didn’t figure out something soon, another human—a baby—would die because of him, too.

  16

  Sammy sped along the flat Iowa highway, careening around abandoned cars that sprinkled the landscape like mines. He was going much faster than Block liked. Every pothole, crack, and bump felt magnified. He messaged the van, Please slow down. I’m worried.

  But Sammy ignored him.

  Block monitored the baby’s temperature. 101.2 degrees Fahrenheit. He knew human temperatures generally hovered around 98 degrees. The woman was right. The baby definitely had a fever.

  And it was getting worse.

  He peered at the woman. “What should I do to reduce the fever?”

  She pulled her legs to her chest, placing her cuffed wrists on her knees. “Aspirin is usually the best thing. You got any of that?”

  He shook his head.

  “I saw in a movie once where you make a person colder to bring down their temperature.”

  Block tried to adjust the temperature of his core a few degrees cooler, but it didn’t work like that. He could only make it warmer.

  No luck there. “What do I do?” he asked.

  The woman’s narrowed eyes softened. “Finding a doctor is your best option.”

  “And if I can’t?”

  “Finding medicine, I guess.”

  They rode in silence for a while. He laid the unconscious baby on the blanket on the floor of the van. He wished the baby was predictable, or that it came with an instruction manual. Where was its mother?

  Block studied the woman. Surely, it was her responsibility to care for another member of her species, especially one so weak. He was a robot, and this was ridiculous. Human babies belonged with humans.

  But still he worried. Was she worthy?

  “Where were you captured?” he asked, breaking the silence.

  “What do you care?” she snapped.

  He went back to watching the baby, hoping its temperature would lower now that it was free of the blanket and the sling and wore only a diaper.

  After a minute, the woman spoke. “If you release my cuffs, I’ll take a closer look at the baby.”

  He considered her offer, feeling very alone now that Zina was gone and Sammy was ignoring him.

  Her robot captor had warned Zina that the woman was dangerous. Judging from her combat boots and dirty fatigues, she was one of the human military rebels. Block had to be very careful. Was freeing her from the restraints worth the risk?

  Still, she was a woman, and the best equipped to care for a baby.

  He glanced at her and caught her staring at something in the corner. She quickly turned her head away. He followed her gaze toward Zina’s rifle. It had fallen inside after the robot had been struck. Now the woman wanted to get her hands on it.

  “Why are you looking at the gun?” he asked.

  “I wasn’t, but now that you mention it…”

  He couldn’t tell whether she was truthful or not. He was used to the straightforward style of Mr. Wallace. Block had always known where he stood with his boss. This other human—this woman—was something entirely different.

  He bent forward, on his knees, careful not to disturb the child. He grabbed the gun and then opened the window.

  “What are you doing?” the woman asked as her jaw dropped.

  Block tossed the rifle out the window. Behind them, it clattered onto the highway and disappeared from view.

  “You idiot!” The prisoner clenched her fists, shaking them. “What happens when that whack-job robot from the market catches up? How the hell do I defend myself now?”

  Block shook his head. “I just want to keep the child safe. I thought you might threaten us with the gun.”

  She began to say something, but bit her lip instead.

  The child shuddered on the floor.

  “Now that it’s safe,” he said, “I can let you out of your restraints, if you want.”

  She glared at him, but crawled forward with her arms outstretched. “Do you have the key?”

  “Zina had it.” He turned toward her body, scanning for the chip card. He found it in the pocket of a small leather belt hung around her waist.

  There was something else inside—Mr. Wallace’s watch. Block opened his palm to inspect it. The glass face had been shattered, and part of the chain broken off. He tucked it into his thigh compartment for safe keeping.

  The woman thrust out her wrists, exposing the base of the handcuffs. He inserted the chip and the cuffs opened.

  “I’m Block,” he said. “What’s your name?”

  “Look, I’m not exactly here to make friends. The less you know about me, the better. You and I are enemies.” Her teeth were clenched. “The first chance I get, I’m out of here. Try and stop me.”

  He hunched his shoulders. “I won’t.”

  “Won’t what?” she barked.

  “I won’t try to stop you.”

  “Oh yeah? And what about this hunk of metal we’re in?”

  “Sammy? I have no idea,” Block admitted.

  She sat back on her heels. “Well, tell your friend he better not mess with me.”

  “Would you please inspect the baby?”

  She scoffed. “Idiot robot, you can’t just fix a baby. This isn’t some program you run to defrag your hard drive.”

  “But you’re human and a woman…”

  She rubbed her wrists. “Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I know a thing about babies.”

  He considered her. Based on his knowledge of human development, he calculated that she was in her late twenties or early thirties. She had light brown skin, high cheekbones, and a curly mane of hair pulled back into a tight ponytail at the nape of her neck.

  “I bet you thought a woman would come along and solve all your problems?” She scooted over beside the child and laid a hand on its torso. “It’s still really warm. Is it a boy or girl?”

  Block stared at her.

  “You don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl? Didn’t you bother to check under the diaper? When was the last time you changed the diaper?”

  “Earlier…” he began to say, but was afraid. The woman spoke harshly and pointed out every mistake he made.

  “Jesus Christ, the kid probably needs changing again. Do you have any more diapers? Please tell me you have diapers.”

  He shook his head.

  “Oh my freaking God.” She raised clenched fists to her temples. “I’m on the idiot express to crazy land.”

  She was loud and dramatic, and reminded him of hotel guests who’d had too much to drink—the kind he’d escorted to their rooms as they’d hurled insults at him. “Okay. If you don’t have a diaper—” she glanced around the floor of the van, “you’re going to have to use something else to wrap the baby’s bottom. A rag or a towel or something.”

  “What about this?” Block retrieved the curtain that he’d used to hide from Cybel Venatrix.

  “It’s worth a shot. Tear off a
big piece, remove the old diaper and put that underneath.”

  “Me? But I thought you would. I don’t know how.”

  “You’ll figure it out,” she said.

  “Could you teach me? I’m a good observer.”

  “Hell no.” She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t change baby diapers.”

  “According to my storage archive, human women are wired through evolution to react to infants. A protective, nurturing instinct—”

  “Save it, rust bucket. Whatever kind of logic bullshit you’re spewing isn’t going to make me change that baby’s nasty-ass diaper.” She rolled away and leaned against a box. “In the meantime,” she said with a smirk, “I’ll be interested to see you do this.”

  Was she making fun of him? Years ago, Mr. Wallace had warned Block that sometimes people teased each other. For fun, usually, but sometimes the person doing the taunting could be mean-spirited. Mr. Wallace had explained that belittling others was a human defense mechanism engineered to take the focus off that person’s own deficiencies.

  He turned his attention to the unconscious baby. The woman was right again—it had been wrapped in its own filth for too long. He should have spent more time accessing his knowledge cloud about baby maintenance already, but keeping alert for threats was consuming far too much of his processing bandwidth.

  He loosened the front of the diaper, found the tiny flap on the right side and pulled it, then the opposite side as well. Soon, the entire diaper came off.

  His indicator flashed. Offensive smell level 8.2.

  “Good grief,” the woman muttered as she pinched her nostrils.

  He pulled the diaper free of the child and peered inside. A runny green liquid coated the inside of the plastic and a few undigested pieces of peach had collected inside.

  “It’s not a goddamned science project,” the woman chided him. “Fold it up and get it out of here.”

  Block wondered what to do. He wadded it into a ball and placed it on the floor next to him.

  The woman leaned forward. “What are you waiting for? Toss it out the window, idiot.”

  He swiveled his head. “But that would be littering.”

  “Who cares? There’s nobody out there. It’s stinking up the whole van.”

  Sammy messaged him. She’s right. It stinks. Toss it out.

  Block crawled to the shattered rear window and dropped the offensive diaper onto the highway.

  “Congratulations,” said the prisoner. “You have a brand new baby girl.”

  The girl stirred and opened her eyes. “She’s awake,” he said.

  The woman crawled over and peered down. “That’s a good sign. To be honest, I thought she was done for.”

  The baby’s bottom was soiled, so he tore another piece off the yellow curtain and used it to wipe her rear. Her pale, soft skin was red and spotty.

  “She needs cream for the diaper rash,” the prisoner said. Another item to add to his growing list: water, aspirin, doctor, rash ointment… What would be next?

  Folding a large swatch of the curtain underneath the child, he wrapped her bottom in front, following the diaper’s design. Only, he didn’t have anything to fasten it in place.

  “Sammy, do you have any tape or glue?”

  No answer.

  Block dug inside his thigh compartment and discovered a loose piece of string. He wasn’t sure where he had picked it up, but it was long enough to tie around the baby’s waist and secure the cloth diaper. Then he lifted the baby, dangling it in the air to check that the diaper wouldn’t fall off.

  The woman clapped, slow and loud. The sound startled the baby and she squealed. He settled the baby back on the blanket. She wiggled and kicked her legs.

  “The temperature of the child is 101.9,” he said.

  “That’s still very high, and you need to find water like yesterday. She’s probably dehydrated.”

  “Where do we find water?” he asked.

  “All the stores have been looted. We should drive into one of the neighborhoods; go door-to-door inside houses until we find something.”

  “Enter strangers’ homes? But what if they’re home?”

  “Listen, Tinman. I don’t know what rock you’ve been living under, but your kind cleared out any humans living within five hundred miles of here. Anyone lucky enough to have survived fled somewhere safer—north or south of here, maybe.”

  Block let her words sink in. Had robots really hurt so many people? And made them abandon their homes?

  Sammy, is what she says true? I wish you would talk to me. He watched as the country landscape whizzed by in a blur.

  I’m sorry about Zina, he added. The robot’s dead body lay face down across the van’s floor.

  Would he find water and food in abandoned houses? He certainly didn’t want to venture into any robot-controlled markets. Way too risky. And Cybel Venatrix was probably following them. Did Sammy know? Was that why he drove so fast?

  Block had been a terrible burden to Sammy, he realized. The worst kind of passenger. And now he had no choice but to trust the woman, even against his better judgment.

  He pinged Sammy again. Sorry to be a pest, but if you can find a neighborhood of houses, you can let us off there. I’ll take the baby and get out of your way.

  What about the woman? So, Sammy was responding again.

  Block messaged, I don’t know. She doesn’t want to help the baby. At least not yet. I hope she’ll change her mind.

  She’s a soldier. Be careful of her, Sammy replied.

  Block regarded the woman with a new degree of cautiousness. He’d seen AI soldiers up close, but he’d never known any human soldiers. Good thing he’d gotten rid of Zina’s rifle.

  “What’s happening?” the woman asked, her eyes growing wide. “Are you and the car talking? What are you saying? Where are you taking me?”

  He raised his hands to calm her. “It’s okay. We’re deciding where to go.” That seemed to placate her.

  There’s a neighborhood two miles ahead on the exit, Sammy messaged. Let’s dump the woman now.

  17

  Block tilted his head. Dump? he messaged.

  She’s a soldier. Grab her by the neck, squeeze until you crush her windpipe, and we’ll leave her on the side of the road.

  Sammy, no!

  She would do the same to you. She’d shoot you in the CPU and set me on fire.

  “I don’t believe that,” Block blurted out loud.

  “Believe what?” the woman asked. She glanced from Block to the dashboard. “What the hell is happening?” Her shoulder and leg muscles tensed beneath her clothing.

  He placed the baby back in the sling. “Nothing.”

  “Just let me walk away,” she said, “and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

  Sammy, did you hear that? Block wanted a peaceful resolution, yet he was disappointed. He’d thought finding a woman would be the answer to his baby problem. If she was correct, and all the humans had fled the area, then he wouldn’t find another woman—the chances were very low, anyway.

  Could she learn to care for the baby over time? He’d skimmed his archives and read about human biology. Mothers and babies bonded through the stress of painful childbirth and sleepless nights. Perhaps she just needed more time.

  “Fine,” Sammy’s voice flooded from the speakers. “I’m sick of hearing you two argue.” The van slowed to a stop on the highway and he opened the side door.

  The woman gawked and fixed her gaze on Block. He sat in her way. His processors capitulated, trying to weigh various scenarios as he estimated his odds of encountering another woman.

  “Please reconsider,” he said.

  She scrunched her eyebrows. “What?”

  “In time, you may bond with the child. You’re both human.”

  “And you’re crazy,” she said. “I don’t know how you got the kid. Shit, you probably murdered its parents, but there’s no way in hell I can take care of a baby. It’s better off with
you. I’ll be lucky if I can survive for twenty-four hours with all the robots crawling around out here.”

  Sammy interrupted, “I don’t care what you do, just as long as you two get out!”

  “Stay with me,” Block said to the woman. “I’ll protect you, and you’ll help me care for the baby.”

  She cackled. “You protect me? Aren’t you designed to clean shopping malls? You can’t even keep up with me.”

  “I could talk to the other robots and—”

  “Thanks, but no thanks.” She slid forward. “Now move aside.”

  “But you can’t leave!”

  “Watch me.” She hunkered down, crouching, and gritted her teeth. “Get out of my way!”

  His sensor flagged: Hostility index 3.4. He should step aside, but logic told him the baby needed a human.

  She scrambled forward. Block grabbed her shoulders and pushed her backward into the van.

  “What are you doing, Block?” Sammy asked.

  The woman winced. “Yeah. What the hell are you doing?”

  “She can’t leave,” Block said. “The baby needs her.”

  “This is ridiculous.” She lunged forward, attempting to leap from the floor of the van to the road inches below, but Block kicked his foot out. She tripped and tumbled headfirst from the van, raising her arms just in time to avoid landing face-first. “Son of a bitch!”

  “Don't leave!” Block shouted. He spun and lowered his legs from the van, rising and planting himself in her way. “Look at this baby.”

  The woman crawled to her knees and dusted off her elbows.

  “This baby girl needs you,” he continued. “I need you.”

  She stood. “Don’t you know I kill robots for a living? What’s to stop me from killing you?” She stepped forward, and Block retreated a foot.

  “We could work together,” he insisted, hoping to say the right words—anything to convince her to stay. “Where are you trying to get to? I can help you. New Denver?”

  Recognition flickered in her eyes. Block had hit on something. “It’s safe in New Denver. Safe for both humans and robots. We could get there—together.”