I Heart Robot (28 page)

The glass doesn’t break, and the dull thump of impact draws the sentinels’ attention. They drop the wriggly human and lope toward me. They might’ve already sounded an alarm. I try again, this time activating my martial arts patch. Breaking glass shouldn’t be more difficult than breaking a stack of boards. The karate code executes, and the glass cracks beneath my blow. I’m through the door and sprinting across the foyer before they can lay their mechatronic phalanges on me.

The elevator takes too long descending from Floor 12. The stairs offer the quickest solution. I pound up the steps, cracking tiles as I sprint up to the twelfth floor. I pause before bursting out of the stairwell. It’s quiet, too quiet. There’s a digisplay map on the stainless steel door labeling each floor. The twelfth is marked Data Analysis and Statistics. I crack open the door to cubicles and computer screens. I scan the floor labels, not sure what I’m looking for. Maybe she’s on Floor 14, Robotics and Automation, or Floor 17, Advanced AI. It takes me less than a minute to race up the stairs. On Floor 14, I find empty labs. Another minute, and I’m on Floor 17.

The floor is divided into a series of labs partitioned by glass and fiberboard. Raised voices draw me down the corridor. Some of the labs look more like surgical rooms complete with operating tables and assorted tools. The smell of Cruor overwhelms my olfactory sensors. Is this where androids are built, or is this where they die?

I slow my approach and peer around a corner. It’s an open-plan lab, a veritable playground of gadgetry, robot parts, digisplays, and databoards. At the far end of the room is a row of doors with inset windows like the cells in an asylum. A man and woman stand yelling at each other, faces livid and hands gesticulating.

“
This
contradicts the very tenets of the company.” Tyri’s mom points at the cell door in front of her.

The humans glare silently at one another. Tyri could be a few steps and splinters away. I rush into the room, taking them by surprise. The man gasps as I bash him with my elbow. Tyri’s mom gapes but gets out of my way. The man recovers faster and whips out a gun from the shoulder holster under his coat. I grab Tyri’s mom, pinning her in a headlock.

“I just want Tyri.” My voice doesn’t quaver and neither does my resolve.

“Quinn, what are you doing?” Tyri’s mom claws uselessly at my arm and my grip tightens.

“Open the door.” I haul my prisoner over to the access panel, keeping my eyes on the man’s gun. Would I really use Tyri’s mom as a shield?

“Don’t do it, Maria.” The man grabs the gun with two hands.

“Please,” Maria repeats, her hand shaking as she raises an access card to the panel. The man fires and Maria screams. A bullet smokes, lodged in the panel preventing the door from opening electronically.

“Quinn?” Tyri’s voice echoes from beyond the door.

“Tyri, are you okay?”

“Please don’t hurt my mom.”

I relax my hold on Maria.

“Step away from the door.” I give her two seconds before slamming my head into the opaque glass insert of Tyri’s door. Black dots swarm my vision as pain explodes across my skull and down my spine. The window shatters. It’s not large but big enough for Tyri to crawl through.

“Go on robot. You can have her.” The man grins, and in that moment I know that Tyri is carrying the virus, that she’s probably contagious. Part of me knows I should leave her here for the Solidarity to annihilate, but I can’t. Deep down in my core, I know there’s no way I’m leaving without Tyri. We’ll figure out a way to deal with the virus together. First, we need to get out of here.

I shove Maria toward the man, and they go down in a tangle of limbs. The gun fires, the bullet lodging harmlessly in the ceiling.

“Tyri, here.” I reach my arms through the opening, ignoring the serrating shards of glass still attached to the frame. She takes my hands and stares at me.

“You came for me.” Tears glisten on her cheeks.

“Yes, now let’s make that count.” I jerk her forward, and she wiggles through the window, gasping and whimpering as glass shreds her flesh. It’s nothing nanytes won’t be able to fix. While I tug Tyri through the narrow window, Maria and the man grapple on the floor.

“Run!” Maria yells as she smashes her elbow into the man’s face.

“I’m not leaving you.” Tyri pushes past me and aims a bone crushing kick at the man’s skull. His eyes roll back into his head as he loses consciousness. Maria kicks the gun away and looks at Tyri with a mix of fear and pride.

“You don’t think I killed him, do you?” Tyri’s voice quavers.

“I’m so sorry. I never wanted this to happen.” Maria ignores the question and pulls Tyri into an embrace, not seeming to care about the blood.

“What did they do to me? What about the virus?” Tyri casts me a furtive glance.

“It’s complicated,” Maria says.

“We don’t have time for this. We need to get out now.”

“What are you on about?” Maria stands hands on hips beside Tyri.

“The Solidarity. They’re on their way.”

“The Solidarity?” Tyri and her mom exchange a confused look.

“The robot coalition. Codes.” I wipe a hand over my face smearing Cruor from the gash in my forehead. “They’re going to destroy M-Tech.”

“But why?” Maria’s eyes grow wide.

“Because they know Tyri’s carrying a virus that’ll destroy all of us.”

“But you’re here.” Maria frowns.

“Because … ” I peep into the corridor as two sentinel-droids emerge from the stairwell. “They’re coming for us. We have to get out.” How long until Kit drops the bombs? The red warning light flickers in my peripheral vision. I’m low on fuel, and this time it’s more than just an inconvenience. Given current levels of exertion and risk of injury, I doubt I’ll have twelve hours before I’m empty.

“This is ridiculous.” Maria throws her hands in the air.

“Mom, please. Let’s get out of here.” Tyri casts a cautious glance at the man still lying unconscious.

“Fine. This way.” Maria takes Tyri’s hand and keeps a wary eye on me.

“Wait,” Tyri jerks away. “What about Glitch?”

“Do we have time to fetch the dog?” Maria asks me.

“No.” A delay could mean the difference between continued existence and obliteration.

“I’m not leaving without her.”

“Tyri, she’s just a dog,” Maria says.

“And I’m just a robot.” Tyri bites out. Her left hand balls into a fist, the other looks bruised and swollen cradled against her chest. “Where is she?”

“We don’t have time for this.” We duck as the sentinels open fire with stun darts. Running down the corridor and into a lab, we barely miss another barrage.

“I’m not leaving without her,” Tyri insists.

“Bombs could start dropping any second,” I say.

Maria seems on the verge of implosion as she leads us into one of many interconnected storerooms at the back of the lab. “This is insanity.”

“So, I’m not a weaponized prototype?” Tyri glares at her mother, and Maria’s face drains of color.

“Is Tyri carrying the virus?” I ask as we jog through the storerooms, doubling back to the stairs.

“It’s more complicated—” Any further explanation is cut short by the fire alarm.

“We’re under attack.” Maria hauls open the last door and we spill into the corridor, heading for the stairwell.

“I’m not leaving Glitch.” Tyri stares defiantly at her mom. “Tell me where she is.”

“You’re coming with me, young lady.” Maria grabs Tyri and tries to drag her into the stairwell. Tyri lashes out, yelling about Glitch.

“I’ll go. Where is she?” Why I’m risking my circuits for a dog is beyond me, but the look of gratitude and adoration I receive from Tyri makes the risk worthwhile. If I’m going to expire anyway, I might as well make my last moments count for something.

“Eighteenth floor, lab six.” Maria takes Tyri’s hand.

“Thank you, Quinn.” Tyri and Maria head down while I sprint upstairs in search of Glitch. The siren continues to shriek, the incessant high pitch nauseating, staining my vision a multitude of yellows. Lab six houses a row of cages. Monkeys, gerbils, lizards, parakeets, and one angry Shiba Inu chewing her lips bloody at the wire mesh in the far corner.

She stops chewing as I approach and gives me an appreciative tail wag. The padlock on the cage breaks easily in my fingers. Within seconds, I have Glitch in my arms and her tongue in my ear. An explosion rocks the building, knocking me sideways. I cradle the dog against my chest, protecting her from shrapnel. The blast must’ve triggered fire alarms; nozzles descend from the ceiling dousing us in water. Glitch whines and claws at my arms. I hold her tighter and pick my way through debris. The end of the corridor where the stairwell used to be is a storm of flames, the colors and crackles overwhelming my confused senses. There must be a second emergency exit on the other side of the building. I sprint down the corridor, praying Tyri and Maria managed to escape.

A minute later, I find the emergency exit: an external set of stairs leading down into an alley. Using my jacket and belt, I make an impromptu sling for Glitch so that I have both hands free. Tongues of flame and plumes of smoke dance against the night sky, police sirens shriek vermilion in the distance, and the retort of indigo gunfire unleashes a flood of fear in my core.

A hovercraft zips overhead and a moment later, another blast shatters the building. The shock wave knocks me from the ladder, and I fall four stories, my back slamming into asphalt. The impact renders me deaf and blind. I’m encased in darkness. I’m numb, incapable of much thought let alone movement. Low on fuel, I may not have the energy to heal.

Sensation returns after what feels like hours and so does the red exclamation mark, now a constant fixture in my vision. Even if my nanytes can repair the damage, I won’t have enough fuel to walk away. Glitch scrabbles at my chest, unable to free herself from the zipper. Someone runs over to us and Glitch barks.

“Glitch? What the hell?” A face hovers above us and hands tug at my jacket to free the dog.

The face leans into mine, angling his ear near my nose then at my chest. Two fingers press against my throat checking for the pulse I’ve never had.

“Shit.” Two dark eyes peer down at me. I recognize the face from photos in Tyri’s bedroom. A name rises from the murk: Rurik. Despite the dog’s protests, Rurik plucks Glitch from my chest.

“Whoever you are, thanks for saving Glitch.” He drags his fingertips across my eyes closing the lids, leaving me with only the fading gray sound of his retreating footsteps.

“What happened to you?” I ask as we race down the stairs.

“Adolf Hoeg,” Mom says as if that explains everything.

“Am I carrying the virus?”

“Now’s not the time.” She cuts me an irritated look over her shoulder.

“Quinn risked everything for me. Least I can … ” A blast knocks us down the stairs. Mom gets thrown against the wall with an audible crunch as I pinwheel into the corner. Adrenaline gives me the kick I need to start moving, and I manage to pry myself from the floor despite the pain enveloping my whole body. My ears are ringing, my eyes burning from dust and ash. Through darkness and debris, I mince my way to Mom. She’s crumpled like a rag-doll with blood dribbling from her lips.

“Mom?” I stroke her face. “Please, open your eyes.”

A flicker of an eyelid and a gurgle as Mom draws breath. “Tyri.” She can’t seem to focus on my face.

“I’m here, right here.” I hold her hand and lean closer to hear her over the tinnitus in my ears.

“So much to tell … The virus, it’s not a weapon … ”

“Shh, it’s okay. Help will come.” My words sound hollow and full of empty promises.

“No … You have to know … ” Wet wheezing accompanied by bloody froth on her lips. My gaze drops from her face to where a piece of banister protrudes from her chest. I choke back a sob. There’s so much blood, and I don’t know what to do. Should I apply pressure or try to remove the pole impaling her? My hands shake as I pry fabric from the wound.

“Listen to me.” Mom spits blood and feebly bats away my hands. “When you started playing violin, when you started creating … It scared them. Other androids had demonstrated those capabilities but … you were a threat. They asked me to … ” She wheezes, and her eyes roll back in her head.

“Mommy!” She opens her eyes as I shake her shoulders.

“It’s dead code. Mjölnir does nothing. I’d never let them hurt you.” Her breathing sounds like she’s sipping on a thick milkshake through a thin straw. “Understand?”

“I’m not infected?” Thoughts of Quinn flit through my mind.

Mom shakes her head. “You’re perfect.” She squeezes my fingers.

“But why make me at all?”

“Politics.” Mom chuckles and spatters me with pink froth. A fresh wave of blood oozes from the wound in her chest, and I swallow down bile. “You’re a perfect substitute.”

“I don’t understand.” Not one minuscule part of any of this. “Substitute for what?”

“For anyone. Programmable government.” Mom struggles to draw breath. “Imagine how easy it would be to take control.”

And because I bleed and breathe, no one would even guess I wasn’t human. Skandia could rule the world, one prototype president at a time.

“You have to go.” Mom whimpers from the effort of talking.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You are the future, Tyri.” She presses a bloodied hand against my cheek. Her hand falls and her eyes roll to the left.

“No, no, no. Mom? Mom!” I’m screaming, my throat raw from the smoke billowing down the shattered stairs and my incessant yelling. She’s dead. I know that. Part of me processes that seed of information just as quickly as another part rejects it. A second explosion slams me into the wall as chunks of concrete come adrift. The stairwell is collapsing. My Mom is gone. I can stay and be crushed or I can make sure Mom’s death counts for something. What about Quinn and Glitch? There’s no way I can get back to Floor 18 now. Despair gnaws at me with razor-blade teeth.

Blinded by tears and choking on smoke, I careen down what’s left of the stairs and burst into the foyer. It’s chaos. Robots swarm the area. I can’t tell whether they’re here to help or to annihilate. They’re all armed and firing at anything that moves, including me.