‘Never mind that,’ said Kavan, ‘look!’
The humming, droning machines were turning their attention away from the trenches and instead moving towards Kavan and the rest. They began to chase the robots across the plain, golden tongues of fire chasing them into the night.
Susan and Spoole
Spoole was ashamed. Susan could tell. He may not be part of what had happened, he may not have made the decision, but he was still ashamed.
‘Other minds?’ she said. Then she remembered what Nettie had told her, out by the radio masts. The creators had come. The writers of the Book of Robots had returned to Penrose. ‘Is it true?’ she asked. ‘Have our creators come?’
‘No!’ said Spoole. ‘No! They never claimed that. At least not at first. But they pick things up so quickly. They know how to manipulate people, how to win robots over. They know when to lie and flatter, and when to threaten and to tell the truth and when to just ignore the question. Oh, they’re clever.’
Susan gazed at him, a massive potential building inside her.
‘Is it true that they are animals?’ she asked.
‘Humans, they call themselves. Yes. It’s true.’
‘Have you seen them?’
‘No. Only heard their voices, and then I wasn’t supposed to. They’ve been speaking to the Generals these past two months using the radio. They kept it a secret from me for so long.’
‘I thought you were in charge!’
‘It doesn’t work that way, Susan. Not in Artemis. The humans have been speaking to the Generals, making promises, making deals. And the Generals have been listening. The humans have promised to defend the city in return for certain considerations.’
‘What considerations?’
‘Robots, Susan. The humans are clever, but they can’t work metal like we do. That’s how I know they didn’t write the book. Do you understand that? They don’t know enough about us.’
‘I understand.’
‘They want robots to come and work for them. They want us to weave them robots that they can take back to their homes as slaves.’
‘And the Generals agreed to this? They are willing to sell your children to animals?’
‘Why not, Susan? Children are nothing more than twisted metal. We all are.’
‘That’s only what you think!’ Susan shouted with frustration. ‘This state is riddled with rust from top to bottom!’
Spoole just smiled.
‘You’re part of this too, Susan. More than you know. You realize what else the humans want? Minds full of lifeforce that can’t think. The minds that your friend told you to make.’
‘Nettie!’ said Susan. ‘Then she knew?’
‘I don’t know. The Generals have been so good at concealing their actions. They know that the robots of the city will not see this as Nyro’s way.’
‘Well, surely it isn’t!’
‘Who knows? The Generals defend the city against attack; perhaps they believe they are defending it for Nyro’s sake.’
‘And do you think they are right?’
Spoole was silent.
‘I thought not.’
To Susan, master craftsrobot, sometimes the metal of a room would sing with the potential inherent within it. Sometimes it would appear as if it had achieved that potential. This room now seemed empty and devoid of purpose. Whatever life had once filled it was long gone. Spoole seemed to feel it too.
‘I can’t leave here,’ he said. ‘My mind was woven to lead Artemis. There is nowhere else for me to be.’
Much to her surprise, Susan understood Spoole. She had been woven to love her husband. Hers was an arranged marriage: it didn’t make it any less real.
‘Why are you still here, Susan.’
‘I told you. I came looking for my friend. I want to find out where she was taken.’
‘Why should I help you?’
‘You don’t believe in what the Generals are doing. And maybe Nettie knows something. Maybe she has spoken to the animals. You’re a leader, get to speak to them, maybe you can negotiate a different deal!’
‘That won’t work,’ said Spoole. ‘If you were a leader you would understand that. And yet…’
‘And yet what?’
‘Nothing. Your friend has probably been melted down and recycled to stop her telling what she knows.’
Spoole went back to the window. A high-pitched whistling impinged on the edge of Susan’s hearing.
‘Then the records will be in the next building. Help me find them.’
‘Why should I?’
Spoole just went on gazing out of the window. The flickering and percussive thump of the battle was still present, but overlaid on that was the descending noise of the whistling.
‘What is that?’ asked Susan.
‘I think that will be the humans,’ said Spoole. ‘The Generals said their ships were large. They’re dropping down from space. They’re coming to take their city.’
Kavan and the rest ran across the plain, kicking up sand and grit, dislodging the glowing coals from the overturned forges, tripping and stumbling on the bodies of the fallen. Behind them the thrumming craft still fired, only now they had changed ammunition: the shells exploded in a low circle, parallel to the ground. They sent out razor shards that sliced off legs just above the ankle, tumbling a robot forward into the secondary blast that ripped bodies and minds apart.
‘I think they’ve stopped following us!’ called Calor. She was running backwards, looking back at the city. ‘They seem to be maintaining a perimeter around the city.’
Kavan’s electromuscles were aching now. He needed to rest, give them a chance to cool a little, let the lifeforce replenish.
‘Should we stop?’ asked Calor, loping along at his side.