Steel Guardian

by Cameron Coral

  “There was a pill bottle next to the bed,” Nova had said, frowning when he’d questioned her. “I can’t stand the smell in here.”

  And so they’d camped out one house over. Nova had discovered a medicine called ibuprofen, which was similar to aspirin but safer for babies. Block had crushed the tablets, ground them into a dust, and mixed the medicine into the baby’s water. He transferred her into a new cloth diaper he’d fashioned from dishtowels. After the feeding and change, the infant had fallen asleep.

  Being a human was messy business. He couldn’t believe anyone would want to care for such a helpless, soiled creature. But she was starting to make more facial expressions. She looked more human than the day before.

  Block found himself peering at the stars and obsessing about the people who had once lived in these homes. Why had that woman resorted to suicide? He couldn’t quite grasp the concept, suicide seeming like a non-logical choice. He didn’t think robots were even capable of suicide. He tried to calculate scenarios in which he would voluntarily self-terminate, but couldn’t think of any.

  Nova joined him on the patio and plopped onto a rusty metal chair that groaned under her weight. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Observing the stars.”

  She pulled a brown-tipped cigarette from a box, stuck it in her mouth, and lit it with a small plastic lighter. She exhaled a whiff of smoke.

  He glanced at her, about to remind her of the health risks of smoking.

  “Don't judge,” she said. “I found these inside. They’re stale as hell, but it takes the edge off.”

  Block went back to staring skyward.

  Nova gazed upward and sighed. “I’ve never seen so many stars as we do now that the power is out everywhere.”

  “There is less dust and air pollution here than in cities.”

  “Yeah. Weird. Hey, I noticed some maps inside. Apparently, this family was into driving trips or something because they have a road atlas. We could use it tomorrow to chart out possible routes.”

  Had Nova decided to take care of the baby after all? “We?” he asked.

  “Well, no. I meant we can chart a way to get out of this neighborhood. To the next town. You’re on your own after that.”

  “I see.”

  She smoked more of her cigarette. “What did you do before this?”

  He straightened. “I worked at the Drake hotel in Chicago. Have you ever been?”

  “I only ever visited Chicago once. I was eleven. I don’t remember much except that we rode on a giant Ferris wheel and the lake was really pretty—very aquamarine. It was a nice sunny day with blue skies and white puffy clouds. The whole place looked like a postcard.”

  “I remember those kinds of days,” he said.

  Nova blinked like she had something in her eyes and stuffed another cigarette in her mouth.

  “Hey, are you a male robot? Your voice sounds masculine,” she said.

  “Yes. Some of us had gender assigned by the humans who designed us.”

  “I never understood how all that worked. You don’t have private parts, do you?” Her eyes widened, and she cringed. “Do you?”

  “No. Gender for my model was a label only. It determined whether my voice would be male or female. It doesn’t matter to AI, but humans find it easier to deal with what they know.”

  “But some robots have parts, right?”

  “There are pleasure models, but I’ve only ever seen one, many years ago,” he said. “Where did you live before the Uprising?”

  “Michigan.”

  “Not far from Chicago.”

  “Far enough,” she said as she exhaled a long plume of smoke.

  Block’s offensive odor scale registered 4.6. “How did the robots in the market capture you?” he asked.

  She eyed him warily. “I was hiking with friends. We were minding our own business and camping out in the woods when your friends attacked.”

  “Those weren’t my friends.”

  “Robots all seem the same to me,” she said.

  “Those two men who were sold—they were your friends?”

  She nodded and scratched her neck.

  “The robot in the market said you were soldiers—”

  “Lies,” she said abruptly. “We were peaceful. Ambushed.”

  Block didn’t say anything more. He wondered if she was telling the truth. Her combat boots looked military. Her jacket and fatigues, though dirty, were in good shape. But why would she lie about that?

  He expected she would leave first thing in the morning. All along, she’d been hinting about how she wanted to get away and be on her own. Contrary to what he’d expected, she didn’t seem to care one bit for the human child. He’d expected some kind of maternal instinct to kick in, but she didn’t appear to have one.

  “You sure ask a lot of questions for a robot,” Nova said. “How about I ask you some things?”

  “I suppose that’s fair,” he said.

  “Where did you get the baby?”

  “Many miles ago, I entered a school hoping to find a source for recharging—a power generator, possibly. Instead, I found a machine with this child inside.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “In a school? What kind of school?”

  “It was a high school once. Now abandoned. Elmwood High School.”

  Her jaw dropped, but she quickly clamped it shut and looked away.

  “Do you know it?”

  “No,” she snapped. “What happened next?”

  “There was fighting outside. A group of humans advanced on the school and attacked SoldierBots.” Block rose and paced the small patio. “I tried to give the child back, but someone shot into the classroom and brought down the SoldierBot. I ran, and the next thing I knew, another SoldierBot tried to stop me, but then a grenade destroyed it. I ran for safety with the child in my arms. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Nova folded her arms. “Why did the SoldierBots have a baby?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “It was very peculiar. The machine was an incubator. It kept the child warm and secure inside its body.”

  “And everything that happened back at the market?” she asked. “The tall robot that shot your friend—it was bidding on me. What did he want?”

  “She,” Block said.

  He didn’t want Nova to know there was a bounty on him and the child. That might scare her away—realizing they were in danger. The last thing he wanted was to do something stupid to make her flee faster. Nova might not be the ideal woman, but she was all he had.

  “So, what happened?” Nova persisted, leaning forward. “From where I was, it sounded like she wanted to take you away, but your friend intervened.”

  He shrugged. “I’m sure it was all just a misunderstanding.”

  “Really?” Nova thrummed her fingers on her arms. “Just a misunderstanding. Is that why the robot who bought me got shot? Tell me the truth. What was really going on back there?”

  She sensed danger. Of course. She’d seen Zina get killed. Did he tell her the truth or not?

  “Well?”

  “The robot you saw—the one who killed Zina—she was angry that she lost the bid on you.”

  Nova frowned and stomped out her cigarette. “The robot killed her… over me?”

  Block hadn’t meant to make her feel guilty, but it was too late now. He nodded.

  “Fuck. Was she your friend?”

  He wasn’t sure how to answer. Zina had helped him—had pitied him having to take care of a baby. Block’s only friend had been Mr. Wallace, whom he’d known the longest of anyone.

  He wasn’t good at lying, so he just nodded.

  Nova lowered her head. “I’m sorry she got mixed up with me. She shouldn’t have bid on me.”

  He’d wanted to get Nova on his side, but perhaps he’d taken it too far.

  “What are you going to do with the baby?” she asked suddenly.

  “Head west, I suppose. Before it died, Incubator X79 told me to find s
omeone worthy and give them the baby. How do you find someone worthy?”

  “How the hell should I know? I guess you just look for someone good. Someone who knows how to take care of a baby…” She straightened, glaring at him. “Is that why your friend bid on me? Because I was the only woman around for who-knows-how-many-miles and you needed someone for this baby?”

  “Well—”

  “Is that how I got mixed up in all this shit?” She stood and kicked the chair, sending it flying into the side of the house.

  Block looked at her and reached his arms out, but didn’t touch her. “You’ll wake the baby!”

  “Wake the goddamn baby, for all I care. I can’t believe you pulled me into this mess!”

  He paused. “You would be a prisoner if we hadn’t bought you.”

  She thrust her hands onto her hips and lowered her voice. “I would’ve gotten free. My friends and I were working on a plan.”

  “I see.” Block returned to his seat and sat in silence while Nova puffed on a fresh cigarette and paced.

  With his night vision, Block spotted a strange four-legged creature with a white face and big charcoal eyes treading through the yard. It sniffed the dry grass ten feet away, but Nova hadn’t noticed.

  He searched his peripheral storage and discovered the animal was called a possum. Object recognition for outdoor species were buried in his archives. As a CleanerBot at an urban hotel, he’d been unlikely to encounter wildlife. Even so, he enjoyed discovering new objects and applying names to them. He wished he could quiz Mr. Wallace. Would he have known about possums?

  As the animal moved, a branch snapped, and Nova jerked her head toward the sound. “What was that?”

  “A possum,” Block answered. “Do you know what those are?” Since it was new to him, he naturally assumed she’d never encountered the species either.

  She flung down her cigarette and reached under her jacket, pulling a revolver from the waistband of her pants. She aimed at the possum and released the safety.

  “What are you doing?” Block shouted, but too late. She fired into the darkness and the crack of the gun splintered the still night.

  Block watched his infrared as the blob of heat that was the possum darted deeper into the woods leaving a trail of bright spots—blood. She’d wounded it.

  “Why did you shoot it?” Block stood. “And how do you have a gun?”

  Nova faced him with narrowed eyes. “Damn thing got away. Those animals have rabies. We have to kill the feral animals to stop the spread.”

  “Rabies?” The term was new to Block and he accessed and absorbed the history of rabies in 1.3 seconds. “A dangerous disease for humans.”

  “Yeah, no shit.” Nova replaced the gun in the back of her pants. “My friends and I shot any wild animals that came near. Chances are high they carry rabies. After the Uprising, people’s pets got loose—those that survived—and rabies has run rampant without vaccinations.”

  “You didn’t tell me you had a gun.”

  She shrugged. “I found it in one of the houses. It’s a good thing, too. I need it for protection.”

  Block didn’t appreciate her secrecy, especially about something so important. Keeping a deadly weapon around a baby was dangerous. Even a robot knew that.

  A yawn escaped her. “It’s late and I’m exhausted.” She glanced inside the home, just beyond the sliding glass door at the cardboard box where Block had placed the infant. “How did the gunshot not wake her? I helped you with her. Now you have water and medicine. I’ve done my part.”

  He knew she was right.

  “Tomorrow at first light, I’m out of here.” She marched into the house, retreated into a bedroom, and slammed the door.

  21

  Block lingered outside the house for another hour. Under the stars, frogs croaked and crickets chirped. He wondered how the wounded possum had fared. It was too bad that rabies had spread so widely among animals that most of them were a danger to humans.

  After a while, he couldn’t stop replaying his conversation with Nova. He’d led her to believe Zina’s death was her fault. He hadn’t been trying to be deceitful; it had just happened.

  Things were so complicated now. A fine hotel, that was all he needed.

  He went inside and scrounged around the kitchen, searching for cooking oil but could find none. Next, he tried the attached garage, which was empty, of course; the homeowners had fled in their vehicle. His power indicator displayed 46%—enough to last him another two days, so long as he didn’t overburden his processors. The massive Drake hotel had produced plenty of waste fuel sources for the robot workers to consume—fryer grease, petroleum byproduct from the massive heating system, rubber and plastic runoff from trash compactors—all waste that the electrical bacteria fed upon and from which they generated their energy. The hotel ecosystem, Block understood; it had worked beautifully. A suburban house’s fuel output paled in comparison. The garage walls were lined with shelves that held various tools and scattered boxes. Had Block not been conserving his energy, he would have been compelled to tidy the space, but his focus was on staying charged. In a corner, tucked away, he spotted a small lawnmower—gas powered—a very old machine by today’s standards. He crouched down next to it, removed the gas cap, and poked his feeding hose inside. There was a slurping sound as he drained the remnants of the tank. Afterward, he rested a hand on the mower’s exhaust and whispered, “Thank you.” He knew it was a dumb machine with only basic functionality. Still, he respected all machines. Even a toaster should be treated with kindness.

  Power was certainly an issue on this trip. There were cars on the highway, but many had been abandoned once they ran out of fuel, or looters had drained the tanks. Stopping to check every car along the way was inefficient. Instead, he would have to be careful with his energy demands. He walked softly back into the kitchen. Now that it was night, he could go into standby mode, but he worried the baby might stir. If it needed help while he was in low power, he wouldn’t hear. Staying alert was safer. It was a bigger drain on his power, but the lawnmower gas would bolster his reserves, and tomorrow he could look for a new source.

  Perhaps he could persuade Nova to stay with them. He had tried to appeal to her womanly instincts, but failed. She must not be like other human women. What motivated her? Clearly, she wanted to be free. Was there something else that would appeal to her?

  After a few hours, the early light of dawn began to filter from the eastern horizon. Standing by the high kitchen counter, Block watched the sky gradually brighten. In her box next to the patio door, the baby squirmed.

  “You slept all night,” he said, treading lightly toward her. She lay there with wide eyes and shifted her head to gaze at him.

  He crouched. “Hello, I’m Block.” He wasn’t sure why he’d introduced himself. After all, he’d been with the infant girl for thirty-two hours now. But she seemed alert, healthier than before.

  “What’s your name?”

  “News flash,” Nova called out from across the room. “A baby that young can’t talk.”

  He straightened and lifted the box onto the kitchen table. “I know. It’s just nice to talk to someone.”

  Smirking, she stuffed a backpack full of cans from the box Sammy had given them.

  Block held the baby against his chest, bouncing. “So, you’re leaving?”

  “Did I stutter last night?” She folded a quilted blanket from the couch and stuffed it in the bag. “Of course, I’m leaving.”

  “Is there any way I can convince you to stay?”

  She glanced at him. “Why?”

  “You helped us find water and medicine. Without you, the baby might have died.”

  “That was the deal, remember? I thought robots were supposed to be smart.”

  “I just wish you’d stay longer. We need you. She needs you,” he said, tilting his head at the baby.

  “You’ll be fine on your own.”

  “We can travel to New Denver together. I’ll even
pay you for escorting us.”

  She crossed her arms. “How?”

  “Humans and robots live together in New Denver,” Block said. “It’s peaceful, and I can find someone worthy to take care of the baby. You said you were heading there anyway. Why not let us tag along?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” She rolled her eyes. “A human traveling with a robot. Not exactly the safest combination out there. You know we’re at war with each other? Or did that slip your mind?”

  The baby belched, and Block patted her back.

  “Hey, don’t slap her too hard!” Nova barked. “She’s fragile.”

  He recoiled and adjusted, making sure he was tapping her gently. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You see, that’s exactly why I need you. You tell me what to do.”

  Nova ran a hand through her long raven-black hair, then tied it. “Don’t you see how messed up this whole situation is? Sorry, man, but I have to find my people, and I need to do it on my own. Maybe I’ll see you around in New Denver.” She tossed the backpack around her shoulders and headed for the door.

  “I can pay you 20,000 icons when we get to New Denver,” Block blurted out.

  She stopped, her palm resting on the door knob. “How do you have 20,000?”

  He knew the banking codes for the Drake’s cash account. Mr. Wallace had trusted him with privileged information. After Mach X’s banking coup had devalued U.S. dollars overnight and replaced them with an AI currency, Block had exchanged the money for icons.

  “I just do,” he answered.

  She spun, pressed against the door, and folded her arms. “How do I know you’re not just saying that to keep me around?”

  “I have access to the Drake’s accounts,” he admitted then. “It’s a luxury hotel. There were times we had to cover special guest expenditures.”

  “You expect me to believe they let a CleanerBot access a hotel’s bank account?”

  “I was a very good CleanerBot. Trustworthy and reliable.”