She lingered at the door, shifting her feet.
“So, what do you say?” he asked. “Get us safely to New Denver and the money is yours.”
She arched her eyebrows. “I could do a lot with that money…” But she yanked the door open. “But I’m not willing to risk it. It’s too dangerous to travel with you. Good luck out there, Tinman.”
22
The house felt quiet and empty without Nova. Block changed the baby’s cloth diaper again and, after carefully researching his info archives on the proper dosage, gave her more water with a quarter of a crunched-up ibuprofen tablet.
The girl drank the mixture eagerly, and he realized her temperature had decreased slightly to 100.9 degrees.
“It seems you like the food and water,” he said. He was free to talk out loud to the baby as much as he wanted. Nova wouldn’t pop in and make fun of him.
When he’d worked at the Drake, people had often talked to him—even confided in him. They’d thought he was a dumb machine and, for whatever reason, told him their secrets as he cleaned their room or dusted a table in the hallway. One time, a man had told him he was a professor at the University of Chicago. He’d confided in Block that he’d helped design the SoldierBot models. He’d confessed that they had cheated on the tests—covered up evidence that humans couldn’t control the weaponized machines—and yet, they’d manufactured them anyway to fulfill a high-dollar contract with the government.
He’d simply nodded and listened to the man. Most of the time, people just wanted to get something off their chest. That’s the term Mr. Wallace had used. Block wondered how humans managed to function when they had such heavy things weighing on their chests.
The night before, Nova had mentioned a road atlas. He scanned the table, the kitchen, and living room, but couldn’t find it. Had she taken it? He couldn’t risk calling up Machnet’s GPS to guide him. To do so would expose his location. He would have to follow the highway signs again and hope for the best. The atlas would’ve been nice. He would’ve liked to travel along back roads rather than the interstate. More places to hide when vehicles approached.
He discovered a duffel bag in one of the bedrooms and loaded it with the remaining water bottles, rolls of paper towels, and several cans of green beans, peaches, and soup.
“Say goodbye, little one. You’re leaving this house and journeying again. Back on the road.”
The baby gurgled and smiled when he placed her in the sling.
Surveying the living room and kitchen one more time, he made sure he wasn’t forgetting anything important and strode out the front door.
He’d already started down the street when he heard a familiar voice.
“Hey.”
He spun and saw Nova twenty yards away.
“Hey, wait up.” She jogged toward them.
“Nova?”
“I was thinking. I’ll take you up on your offer. 20,000 to help you reach New Denver.”
“You will?” He clapped. “Excellent.”
“I have a condition,” she said.
“Okay… What?”
“You follow my instructions every step of the way.” She began hiking away from him, pulling the road atlas from her bag as Block trailed her.
“You know, I really could’ve used that.”
But she ignored him and studied the page that showed their location, holding the book out wide in her arms. With her index finger, she pointed. “This is where we are. If we follow the interstate, we’ll get to Avoca.”
“Is that a city?”
“Looks like a town off the interstate. But if we follow this smaller highway south instead, we’ll get to a city called Atlantic. I think there will be more of a human presence there. I’m worried Avoca will be AI-controlled since it’s near the highway.”
“How do you know these things?” he asked.
“My friends knew a lot.”
“So, we go to Atlantic,” he reasoned.
“Exactly.”
They trekked away from the neighborhood of abandoned homes and followed the main road back toward the highway. Luminous gray clouds drifted across the sky, but thankfully spared them from rain.
Block considered the trade-off between the towns she had described. “Nova? A question, if I may.”
“Yeah?” She led the way and spoke over her shoulder absentmindedly.
“As we venture into this human-controlled town, what do I do? Will the humans be threatened by my presence?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” she said. “You still have those handcuffs?”
“Yes, I do.” He’d tossed them in his thigh compartment, not wanting to leave waste behind in case the home’s owner returned.
“Great. You’re going to have to wear them. Behind your back as if you’re my prisoner.”
Block stared at his hands—though the cuffs had been designed for humans, they would fit around his wrists. CleanerBots were created to have a human-like appearance so they didn’t frighten hotel guests. “Your prisoner?”
“Right. The story will be that I’m traveling with my child, and I found you and captured you. I’m looking for a trade.”
“I see,” he said. His boots clanked on the asphalt. Nova’s boots were rubber-soled, soft as she stepped. The baby made garbled humming sounds in its sling, gazing up at Block with a serious expression.
“But isn’t there an easier explanation?”
She stopped and pulled out a water bottle, guzzling half of it and wiping sweat from her brow. “Such as?”
“What if I belonged to you before the Uprising as your servant bot? And you and I are traveling together.” It seemed a perfectly logical rationale for a human and robot to be traveling together.
“Nah,” she said, swishing the water around her mouth and then spitting on the ground. “It makes us a target.”
“How do you mean?”
“I’ve been to some of these towns. I know the kind of people there. If they think I owned a robot before the Uprising, they’ll think I have money. We’re already a target because of the baby.”
Block considered the point. “Is it really that bad?”
She scoffed. “Have you looked around? Noticed how much of a shithole you’re in?”
He scanned right and left as if waiting for Nova to point something out, as if he were missing something.
“Jesus,” she griped. “I’m traveling with the most gullible robot. Look, we’re going into a human-controlled territory. We follow my rules. That was the agreement. If you can do better, then go off on your own.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Then let’s keep going.” She hoisted her backpack onto her shoulders and trudged on as he followed.
“Are the humans you’ve met really that bad?” he asked.
“Most. Not all.”
He paused a moment. “Before the Uprising, AI had a way to judge each other.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was called the Unified Android Code. It states that a robot must allow another robot to ask qualifying questions in order to ascertain identity…. Not identity, intentions rather.”
“What, like some kind of robot test?”
“Yes,” he said, “but more like an honor code. Sentient AI are bound to answer three questions from another bot.”
Her boots pounded the pavement as she strode on. “Weird.”
“I wish there were a code for humans. I’m looking for a worthy human to care for the child.”
“Right. You said that before. Worthy—whatever that means. Good luck finding someone.”
How could she not understand how to define the term any better than he did?
She was human.
Shouldn't she know how to judge the character of her own species?
23
After ninety minutes, they came upon a roadside rest stop. Covered in graffiti and stripped of wood, the hollowed shell of the concrete structure was empty, dark, and the roof had ca
ved in. Large chunks of drywall and insulation lay scattered about the interior floor. Clothes and shoes had been strewn about and there was a saggy, dirty mattress in one corner.
“I don’t like the looks of that,” Nova said as they peered through the doorway.
“Agreed. We should stay outside,” Block said.
She paced toward a set of picnic benches nestled underneath a copse of trees. The sun was out, and she wore her jacket tied around her waist.
He eyed the table. “This will be a good spot to change the baby.”
“You ever think about giving her a name, so you don’t have to keep calling her ‘baby’?”
He’d assumed the infant already had a name, and it was just a matter of finding the right humans who would assume care for her and research her history. “She already has a name—we just don’t know it.”
“Just make something up. A nickname doesn’t have to be her real name.” Nova strode away toward nearby bushes to relieve herself.
Block lifted the yawning baby girl from the sling. “Hello.” Holding her, he watched as her sleepy eyes blinked and registered him.
He spread out the blanket and laid her down. Her cloth diaper was soiled. “Time to change you.” He weighed the fecal matter and logged it in his memory cloud. “Seventeen grams. One gram heavier than yesterday. Good job, little one.”
Nova returned, untied her jacket, and draped it on the table. She glanced at Block as he fashioned a new cloth diaper. “Ugh,” she said. “Remember, you have to clean her bottom before you put the new one on, right? And make sure you wipe from front to back. You don’t want her to get an infection.”
“Yes, I remember.” Setting aside the used cloth, he grabbed the child’s ankles and lifted her, hoisting the baby in the air so high it hung suspended upside down. “Grr gaagga!” the girl exclaimed.
“Whoa,” Nova said, laughing. “Don’t lift her all the way in the air. You just lift up a little bit, so her butt is high enough for cleaning.
“It’s more efficient this way.”
Nova shook her head. “It’s a child, not a widget on an assembly line.”
Block gently set the child back on the table. This time, he lifted her ankles just a bit, understanding what Nova meant. He used paper towels to wipe the dirty rear end. Releasing her legs, he stepped away still clutching the soiled paper. He scanned the area in search of a proper trash receptacle.
“What’s wrong now?” Nova asked.
“Do you see any trash bins?”
“For Chrissake, just toss it on the ground.”
“That’s unsanitary,” he argued.
“Who cares? The only people around would blow you to pieces. I wouldn’t worry about a poopy piece of paper.”
“This is where you and I differ.”
She rolled her eyes and pulled open a can of mac and cheese.
Block spotted a round trash bin on its side by the abandoned rest stop building. He marched over and tossed the paper towels into the receptacle, but something banged and clattered inside. An animal the size of a cat darted out from the bin. It froze as soon as it saw Block. Its dark eyes and small, inky-black nose glinted. Hissing and stomping, it fluttered its bushy tail and then straightened it like a puffy feather duster.
“Run, Block!” Nova shouted from the bench. “Skunk!”
He stumbled backward, pinwheeling his arms in an attempt to flee the startled creature. The skunk arched its back, lifted its tail, and sprayed a liquid into the air. Immediately, Block’s offensive odor register alerted him—9.8.
He ran toward Nova. Hand clamped over her mouth, she clutched her stomach with her body rippling with laughter.
“We must leave,” he said. “Toxic fumes.” He wrapped the new cloth diaper over the baby’s legs and tied it around her waist. As he lifted her, the baby cracked a smile and said, “Grrg crockeerrg.”
But Nova was twitching; she could barely move. In between breaths, she said, “You got skunked. Oh my God.”
Block found her laughter distracting. “We must go. The air has a toxic odor, and we must get the child to safety.”
“Toxic odor,” she said, her words cut off by ripples of cackling. “You’re damn right. Oh man, it stinks.”
He jogged away, holding the baby in his arms and trying to put distance between them and the skunk. After a minute, he checked behind him and saw Nova hustling to catch up.
With the unexpected skunk encounter, Block hadn’t had time to feed the baby, but the girl didn’t seem cranky. She gazed up at him. “I’m sorry about the smell from that animal,” he said. “I was merely trying to find a proper receptacle for your soiled things when I happened upon the foul creature. I hope skunks aren’t common.”
Nova drew closer. “Hey, wait up!”
He lingered, bouncing the baby.
“I’m slow because I couldn’t stop laughing back there,” she said, grinning. “You’re lucky as hell that skunk spray didn’t land on you.”
Block turned and strode on in silence.
“Oh, come on,” she said. “Are you upset because I laughed so hard?”
“I didn’t find the situation funny.”
She opened her mouth to say something, then stopped. After a pause, she said, “Fair enough. I won’t laugh at you anymore. At least not to your face.” She shook with silent laughter.
He marched faster, ready to leave her behind.
Nova halted. “Hey,” she said, pointing beyond him. “See that low, flat building over there?”
Block scanned the horizon and glimpsed a wide, rectangular structure a mile away.
“We’re still a few miles out from Atlantic, but that’s one of those old superstores—Walmart or Costco or whatever they were called,” Nova said. “We should check it out for supplies.”
“What if there are people or robots there?”
Nova crossed her arms and scoffed. “Don’t be an idiot. Of course, we’ll check it out and make sure it’s not patrolled. We’ll only go in if it’s safe.”
As they trekked toward the store, he decided to ask Nova his questions of worthiness. She was the only human around to test, so he might as well try. He reprimanded himself for not thinking of it sooner.
“Nova, may I ask you a few questions?”
“What?” She narrowed her eyes.
“I was hoping you could help me understand what it means to be worthy. Humans invented the word.”
“If you want a straight dictionary definition, you can probably figure it out for yourself.”
“Yes, I suppose,” he said, doing his best to match Nova’s long stride. “I thought of a few questions to ask any humans I encounter.”
She kept her eyes ahead, yet tilted her head slightly. “What kinds of questions?”
“What is your favorite movie?”
“Are you serious?” She rolled her eyes. “Let me think… favorite movie. Hmm. The Goonies. You ever hear of it?”
“In fact, I have,” he said. “A group of youngsters who embark on a search for pirates’ treasure are chased by outlaws as they try to save their seaside town from being demolished.”
“Wow, I guess you’ve seen it.”
“No. I wasn’t able to catch that one, but I memorized all of the movie descriptions in the Leonard Maltin Movie Encyclopedia.”
“And you remember them all?”
“Yes. They are stored in my memory cloud.”
“What’s your next question?” Nova sighed.
“Question number two,” he continued. “What is your favorite game?”
“Favorite game as in, what I used to watch on TV? That’s easy. Soccer.”
“I meant, what game do you enjoy participating in?” he clarified.
She stretched her arms above her and yawned. “Man, I’m getting tired. My answer is still soccer because that’s what I played in high school.” She paused. “Sometimes at parties, my friends and I would play Jenga. It’s a game where you take little pieces of wood and you have to sta
ck them higher on top of each other, and the person who ends up knocking it down is the loser.”
“I’ve never heard of such a game,” Block said.
“Yeah, I reckon they’re hard to find these days. Dare I ask, what’s your favorite game?”
“Chess. I would often play with my boss.”
“Gag,” she said. “I’ve tried chess once or twice. I found it really boring.”
“Boring!” he said. “On the contrary, chess is an elegant game of strategy.”
“Like I said, boring.”
“The final question—”
“I thought you’d never get to it,” she interrupted.
“I’m done asking you questions. You’ve already proven your unworthiness.”
“Hey, I resent that.” She grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to turn. “Take it back.”
“You said yourself you don’t want the child.”
“Not accepting responsibility is different from being untrustworthy.” She raised her chin and resumed walking, her boots crunching over roadside gravel. “I’m a worthy human. Come on, test me. What’s your last question?”
“Fine. What is your earliest memory?”
“Earliest memory? I guess… summers on a pier over a lake. I was swimming. My little sis….” She bit her lip and slowed her pace, frowning.
“Nova, is something wrong?”
But she shook her head, hard, as if trying to snap herself awake. “No more questions.” She wandered off the road and he realized she was going to relieve herself.
When she returned, they hiked on silently before Nova broke the silence. “What do you care about these questions, anyway? Remember, I’m just the person who will get you to New Denver. The person you’re going to pay twenty-grand.”
Block trailed, waiting. “Yes, but… I’d like to know the kind of person you are. The kind of person I’m traveling with. I could still change my mind and find someone else to travel with.”
“Oh really?” She spun, facing him with a scowl.
He was really pushing it. But he sensed she needed the money. At least he had a bargaining chip.
“And how would you find another human?” she asked. “One willing to take you to New Denver instead of scrapping your ass?”
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