‘If that robot exists, its record will be down the steps,’ replied the robot, pointing. Spoole was already descending. She followed him, only to see the robot in the next room pointing down once more.
‘How far down does this go?’ she called.
‘I’ve heard fifteen levels,’ said Spoole.
Susan calculated.
‘That’s 32, 768 robots down here. That is if this is a true binary tree we’re traversing. That’s almost as many robots as lived in Turing City!’
‘There are only three hundred and two, I think,’ said Spoole. ‘Each node robot holds several thousand records in their mind.’ He was facing another unfused robot now. ‘I’m looking for a robot named Nettie,’ he said.
‘If that robot exists, it will be through that door.’
They followed the direction that was indicated, and continued their descent beneath the Half-fused City.
Back in Turing City, Susan had been a statistician. She understood that she was walking through a concrete example of what she had previously thought of as an abstract concept. Artemis City had made a binary tree. She imagined a robot walking from the Main Index, carrying foil sheets to this building. She imagined the information it brought being passed down the tree of robots buried beneath the ground, each sending the sheet left or right depending on where it lay in the index. A tree. Susan had seen branching examples of organic life named after this structure.
‘This is bizarre, Spoole. Are you always so literal in this city?’
‘I don’t understand what you mean.’
‘Do you build every abstract idea you come across?’
Spoole still didn’t understand. ‘Everything that Artemis has done ends up here eventually,’ he said.
Down and along they went, traversing the data construct. Robot after robot pointed across or down, and they followed the direction indicated. Every so often they passed a little stove, its chimney leading up to the ceiling, and Susan guessed this was where the robots repaired themselves. And then, something new. Piles of soil in the corners of the room. Stacks of fresh bricks.
‘They build new rooms as the database gets bigger?’ she wondered aloud.
‘It used to be once every few years. Now it’s once every six months. The rate of Artemis’s expansion increases.’
‘We’re coming to the end.’
‘Inevitably. The newest data is stored at the farthest nodes.’
Susan moved deeper into the earth, the piles of bricks became more frequent, until eventually they stood before a robot, its body shiny and freshly made.
‘I’m looking for a robot named Nettie,’ said Spoole.
The robot gazed back with its grey eyes. Susan felt the current build within her muscles. The unfused robot spoke.
‘I know of three robots by that name,’ it said. ‘Scout, Infantry-robot and Making Room.’
‘She worked in the making rooms!’ said Susan eagerly.
‘Making Room,’ said Spoole.
‘Nettie,’ said the robot. ‘Mother Kinsle, Father Jaman. Constructed in-’
‘Hold,’ said Spoole. ‘I don’t want her history. Where is she now?’
‘Assigned to Making Room 14, temporarily seconded to Barrack 245, awaiting transfer to Aleph Base pending its construction by the animals.’
‘What?’ said Susan. ‘They’re sending her to the humans? Why?’
The unfused robot said nothing, just stared forward with those dull grey eyes.
Spoole spoke.
‘State her new assignment.’
‘Nettie is to commence training of batch Aleph of the new mothers of Artemis under the direction of the animals.’
‘What?’ Susan looked at Spoole, eyes burning brightly.
Spoole said nothing. He was gazing at the unfused robot, his eyes glowing brightly.’
‘What, Spoole? What is it?’
‘Sandale! Don’t you see what he’s done? He’s a traitor!’
‘Traitor to Artemis? Good!’
‘Don’t be so stupid! Do you think the animals will still have to deal with Artemis City when they have robots with minds woven to serve them directly? Sandale has betrayed Nyro!’
‘All for a few tons of metal?’ said Susan.
‘This isn’t Nyro’s way,’ said Spoole, his voice crackling with static. ‘This isn’t about Artemis, this isn’t about Kavan, this is about robots keeping themselves in power by any means! This is what happens when robots’ minds are woven to think of leadership above all else!’
He was so angry, Susan could feel the flash of current through his electromuscles, see the way his eyes were glowing.
‘This is wrong!’ he said. ‘I have been distracted, I’ve allowed Sandale and the rest to cloud my thoughts! Sulking down here when I should have been out in the city, alerting the true Artemisians to what was happening!’
He looked around the small room. He looked down at his own body.
‘I should be out there with Kavan, helping him to fight against this heresy, not standing here in this over-styled body, of no use to anyone but myself.’
‘Okay,’ said Susan, frightened by his sudden passion, nervous to be so far underground, trapped in the middle of the city. ‘Let’s get out of here then. Let’s go and find Kavan.’
‘Yes,’ said Spoole. He made to climb the metal steps to the next level, and then paused. Susan heard it too: the sound of more feet on steps, the sound of voices.
‘This way!’ shouted someone. ‘Down this way! Spoole is trapped!’
The clock tower in the centre of Stark rose to nearly eight hundred feet. Kavan could see it in the distance, rising over the horizon, and he wondered why Artemis had left it in place when they conquered that state. It served no purpose now. Back when Stark was an independent force, it had spread its influence throughout eastern Shull by ensuring each town and village had its own timepiece. It was a form of control far more subtle than that practised by Artemis City, but just as effective.
Kavan had passed through many villages on his way here, each with their brick clock tower empty and broken or turned to the business of Artemis. No longer did every town click and advance to the radio-synchronized tick of the Stark clocks. But then again, nor did they move to the glory of Nyro and the advancement of the Artemisian State.