Machina Viva (9 page)

“That won’t last, though,” said Lucy. “We need to find her before Security does. Raymond, have you made any sense of those notes?”

“I sincerely hope not.”

“Why?” said Lucy. “What is it? What did you find?”

“It’s best if you see it for yourself,” said Raymond. A section of one wall lit up, and Raymond displayed some of the diagrams and notes that it had been able to sort out.

“Raymond?” said Lucy. “Are you sure these notes concern Eve? What could any of this have to do with a robot? This looks like –”

“I know what it looks like,” said Raymond. “It would be very simple to interpret these as the ill-informed theories and wishful thinking of a person who knows not the first thing about robots. However, Philip is extremely well-informed, especially about robotics, and if he were inclined to be wishful, he certainly has the resources to make his wishes real.”

“Wait a minute,” said Will as the streams of notes rolled past on the wall screen. He pointed to a phrase that had been highlighted and underlined. “What’s ‘utility fog?’”

“High-security barrier technology,” said Brian from within the pillow. “It uses interlocking nanomodular structural units to create a near-instantaneous impenetrable barricade that can be deployed via any conventional ventilation system.”

Brian looked up from his cushion to see Lucy and Will staring at him. Somehow, he could sense Raymond staring at him, too.

“It’s a bunch of microscopic devices that you spray into a corridor or something, and on a signal, they lock together and form a solid wall. They’re used in secure installations. Someone gets somewhere you don’t want them, you surround them in utility fog, and a few seconds later they’re boxed in.”

“Philip talks about the properties of utility fog in his notes,” says Will. “Do you think he somehow built Eve out of it?”

“Not possible. Utility fog can only form uniform solids,” said Brian. “Although, it might explain how she can heal herself.”

“What do you mean?” said Lucy.

“Well, I’ve heard about some people who’ve created protocols that enable utility fog surfaces to repair themselves by keeping them bathed in non-solidified fog. Any deficiencies in the wall can be replenished from the surrounding fog. If the supply of raw materials and power is maintained, the wall is effectively indestructible.”

“So,” said Raymond, “assuming that Eve’s design incorporates a system like utility fog, what might that mean about her?”

“Well,” said Brian, “if she can repair herself in the same way as utility fog, then her nanomodular system must be far more complex than anything I’ve ever heard of before. The amount of information required to facilitate that kind of mechanism would be enormous, at least as much as . . .” Brian looked up at the screen with a jerk, his eyes wide.

“Whoa. He couldn’t have.”

“What?” said Will. “What couldn’t he have?”

“Oh, my goodness. The man’s an utter genius,” said Brian, awestruck.

“What is it?” said Lucy.

“I can’t be certain, but I think Philip may have completely revolutionized what it means to be a robot,” said Brian. “I can’t be completely sure, though, not until I see it myself.”

“See her yourself, you mean,” said Lucy.

“We have to find her,” said Brian, “and we have to find her today.”

“How are we going to do that?” said Will. “Security haven’t yet, and they’re experts at finding people. And if we do find her, they’ll know we have.”

“Besides, she’s probably changed her appearance to avoid capture,” said Lucy. “And the only information we have about her comes from Security. They must have more on her than we do.”

“Which means,” said Raymond, “that we need to exploit the advantage that we have over Security, namely our open minds and lack of dependence on routine.”

“What are you talking about?” said Brian.

“As has been said, Security are experts at searching for people, so we mustn’t attempt to beat them at their own game. So rather than hunting her, we must lure her to us.”

“Lure her with what?” said Lucy.

“Well,” said Brian, “if she’s able to replenish herself like utility fog, she’ll need a supply of whatever microscopic units she’s made of, but only Philip would have more of them, unless . . . but Philip would have thought of that, so maybe she . . . no, there’s no way Philip figured out how to do that . . .”

“Figured out what?” said Lucy.

“It would behoove us not to underestimate what Philip may have figured out,” said Raymond.

“Well, it’s just possible that Eve can manufacture her own replacement structural units from raw materials, probably hydrocarbon polymers or raw silicates, so she would need to consume more of them to be able to repair herself or if she wants to . . . or whatever else, so we might be able to lure her that way, but it would be pretty hard to lace all of Shadowtown with tar and sand.”

“There may be something else she is looking for,” said Lucy.

“What’s that?” said Will.

17

Four saloons later, Eve was beginning to run out of gel packs. Her current hideout was a rougher place, mostly frequented by Stitchers and humans who wanted to be seen hanging around Stitchers. It wasn’t even as if their drinks were any stronger than those that humans drank. The Stitcher drinks were really more of a paste; anyone who let their mug sit for too long would need to employ either a fork or tongs.

This saloon didn’t cater to tourists, so there were no booths or other fancy fixtures. Its only distinguishing fixtures were the low tables and benches that demonstrated its Stitcher patronage. This also meant that the saloon was never very full, barring the occasional large shipment from the Stitcher Tribal Protectorate, the central body of the Stitchers and the chief overseer of all textile production in the vapor. In any case, this was a place for hard people who drank tough drinks, and not the sort of people with flowing clothes and graceful curves.

Such as the one who had been sitting at the end of the bar for the last two hours sucking on gel packs. Eve had gotten some stares when she walked in, but the novelty seemed to have worn off.

“You think he’s gonna show?” said the barman as he walked over to her.

“At this point, I don’t think anyone will be coming for me,” said Eve. She had told him she was waiting for a date, and that this was the place he had told her to meet him. She was getting better and better at coming up with stories.

“Yeah, it sounds like he was shining you on, girl. What kind of fellow would want to meet up with a nice thing like you at a place like this?”

“Not the kind of fellow who keeps his dates, apparently.” Eve finished off her last gel pack. “I guess I’d better leave, then.”

“Hope your next date turns out better.” The barman went back to his washing up, and a table of Stitchers watched Eve as she walked out into the afternoon light.

She was far from a transit station, and none of the fancier establishments were nearby. This part of Shadowtown was devoted solely to killing time, mostly by means of several drinks. Security didn’t have nearly the presence here that they had in the more popular areas. Unfortunately, she was out of silicone, and the docks were at least an hour behind her.

A Security taspar team came around a distant corner, and Eve quickly ducked into an alleyway behind a rundown inn. As she waited for the coast to clear, she smelled something at her feet. It mainly smelled burnt and sticky, but there was a faint aroma of silicon. She bent down to examine it.

Leading around the back of the inn was a trail of gritty sludge. There was sand in there somewhere, causing Eve to nearly tremble with longing, but its allure was dampened by the stench of oily black tar. The whole thing gave the impression of a greasy spoor trail.

She followed the line of ooze droplets around a corner, where it led off in the distance. She nearly ran off in pursuit, in case whatever was leaking the petrochemical slime had some sand to spare, when she caught herself in a sudden bout of rationality.

Hang on. Only hydraulic machines use hydrocarbons like this, and no one would have one of those around here. What would one be doing in an alley?

This may be a trap. Someone is trying to lure me with the promise of silicon. Well, I’m cleverer than that.

Instead of following the trail behind the inn, Eve went to the next street and walked around the block, noting where the trail emerged and in which direction it proceeded. Someone would be waiting for her at the end of this trail, and if she were careful, she ought to be able to spot them before they could spot her.

She proceeded in this way for several blocks, following in parallel to the trail of fouled silicon. She wove her way past inns, taverns, and gambling houses as the more late-night establishments began to open their shutters for the day. She was so intent on her goal that she almost ran across the path of a Security patrol. Fortunately, though, the patrol was distracted by some woman who needed help with her cat or something, and she was able to continue on the trail.

As she turned a corner, she thought she saw someone duck into an alley at the head of the trail. She ran for the alley, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person who was trying to lead her along this twisting trail. She had clearly been making good time in her pursuit, because as she entered the alley, she startled the man who had been laying it. He had apparently not expected to catch up so fast. He turned to face her, and she froze.

So many amazing things had happened to Eve in the last week that she had almost completely forgotten the experiences of her first few moments. As her tormentor gazed upon her, a flood of dormant memories reawakened and barraged her with sudden recollection.

It was Dr. Abrams.

She slowly approached him, as he stood and stared.

And then, all of a sudden, it wasn’t Dr. Abrams. His face shifted and restructured itself, his eyes changed color, and his hair retracted into his scalp, and a different person stood before her.

The whole thing was a trick.

She turned to run, but he was faster than her, and much stronger. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer to himself, wrapping his thick arms around her body. She tried to call for help, but he covered her mouth with his hand and pulled her against a wall behind a pile of packing crates.

“Shh, stay quiet! If you make too much noise, you’ll attract Security!”

That made sense. She quieted down. He held up a small televox.

“Lucy, I’ve found her. We’re in the alley across from the Jolly Boatman.”

“We’re on our way, Will. Good work.”

Whoever this person was – probably a robot, since humans couldn’t really do that thing with their faces – whoever he was, he wanted to help, he had friends, and he and his friends had managed to outplan and outsmart the Security department.

“Whmmph mmph ymh?” she said.

Will took his hand away from her mouth. “What was that?”

“Who are you?”

“A friend of Philip Abrams.”

“If you were going to turn me into Security, you wouldn’t have hidden me from them just now. What are you trying to do?”

She and Will locked eyes for a second or two, and then he looked behind her. “Lucy, Brian, you’re here. Good.”

Eve turned to see the woman with the cat that she had seen distracting Security earlier. She was staring at Eve, her eyes wide. She couldn’t see Brian, though.

“Wow. Yeah, Will, that’s got to be her,” said the cat. So that would probably be Brian, then.

“What for goodness’ sake is that?” said Lucy, looking at Eve.

“I’ll tell you later,” said Brian. “Will, we’ve got to get out of here and back to Crownstone. We can hole up there.”

“Right,” said Will.

“Who are you people?” said Eve. “Where’s . . . Philip? That man you were looking like earlier?”

“He’s in Security custody,” said Will. “We’re trying to find a way to help him, and we may need your help.”

“How can we get there? We can’t use the transit stations without being seen.”

“We’re near the shopping center,” said Lucy. We can duck in there and take the stairs back topside. Security will never be able to follow us through the crowds.”

“Good idea,” said Will. “Let’s get out of here.”

18

As the Security patrols searched Shadowtown in vain for Eve, the troubleshooter listened in on their communications channel. None of them had paid any attention to the trail that Will had left, but by the time the troubleshooter followed it to its end, the robots had gone. Surveillance of the area was scarce, but the troubleshooter was able to trace Eve and her accomplices back to the Crownstone building.

Without evidence of actual wrongdoing, Security would have a tough time getting into the building. All points of entry were monitored, and anything larger than a housepet that came or went was recorded. They had gotten what they had come for, and they had retreated to their stronghold. The troubleshooter would no longer be able to monitor Eve’s behavior and reactions, which meant that any further conclusions would have to be extrapolated from the prior data.