‘Then my life is over.’
‘You know that isn’t true. Anyway, isn’t despair forbidden by the Book of Robots?’
‘You know of the book?’ asked Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, but with no eagerness.
‘The knowledge wasn’t woven into my mind at birth, but yes, I know of it.’
‘What does the book mean now? You’ve seen the humans.’
‘Who said that they wrote the book? There is no reason why they should have done. Even if they did, does that give them the right to treat us in this way?’
‘Do you know what it is like to have your core belief thrust in your face and then twisted out of shape before your eyes?’ asked Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, his voice full of pain.
‘No,’ replied the stranger, and he picked up a beetle and dropped it on a square, taking another of Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s pieces.
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do felt suddenly empty, drained of all emotion.
‘What do you want with me?’
‘Me? Nothing. But there is a robot waiting for you by the sea shore. I think you should go to him.’
‘I’m looking for a robot. She’s called Jai-Lyn.’
‘She’s dead. You know it, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. There’s nothing for you here in Yukawa.’
‘There’s my sister, my family.’
‘Would you shame them by returning to them in that body?’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do said nothing. He moved another pawn across the board.
The stranger lifted a piece of his own: the forge. He waited a moment in the pattering rain, then placed it on the grey board.
‘Checkmate. Come on, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, it’s time to go.’
He stood up. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do got to his feet and followed the robot through the streets, down through a forest of crane legs, human craft tangled in the cables and lines above him. He followed the stranger down to the sea.
A robot waited by the water, his body like none that Wa-Ka-Mo-Do had seen before. His arms were way too long, his face and body inverted drops of water.
‘His name is Morphobia Alligator,’ said the stranger, ‘and he is a pilgrim.’
‘Where is he taking me?’
‘North, to the top of another continent. When summer approaches in the north, winter approaches in the south. Where there is happiness in spring, there is sorrow in autumn.’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do gazed at the stranger.
‘Winter is ending, the humans have just arrived there. From one perspective, you will have a chance to live the last six months again.’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do moved forward. Something was rising up from the water beyond. Something huge. It was opening its mouth.
‘Wa-Ka-Mo-Do,’ said Morphobia Alligator. He gestured towards the whale’s mouth. ‘Shall we go inside?’
Spoole
Artemis City was locked in a dynamic equilibrium of busy preparation for the next war. Like a storm cloud, the potential was continually rising, and all the robots were waiting to see where it would discharge itself.
The robots were forming into clans: infantryrobots, Storm Troopers and Scouts, computers and engineers, all forming their own groups, all waiting to see where to move next. On the edge of the city, the human compound sat in silence, its guns constantly scanning the surrounding area.
Rumour was rife. It jumped from robot to robot. The humans were leaving, they were going to attack. Sandale and the rest were arming themselves with human weapons; Spoole had taken the north side of the city; Kavan was about to attack the city, attack the humans; Kavan was already here, inside the city…
And at the centre of this maelstrom of uncertainty, Spoole marched into the largest of the forges, surrounded by a group of infantryrobots and Storm Troopers that were not quite escorting him, not quite following him. Kavan wasn’t the only person with presence, he noted with satisfaction.
He saw the Generals in the middle of the floor, just as he had been told to expect, and he felt a surge of relief. So that information at least was true.
‘Sandale!’ he called. ‘Why do you and the other Generals hide in here?’
They had been expecting him. All those Generals in their new bodies, all of them sporting the metals the humans had bought. Their bright, flashing panel work was in marked contrast to the dull greys and blacks of the soldiers who had followed him here.
He noticed the way they had arranged themselves: the younger Generals had moved to the back of the crowd. It was the older ones like Sandale who had the courage to challenge him.
What have we done? thought Spoole. What have I done? To think, if the animals had never arrived we may have carried on in this way, tearing Artemis apart through our constant jockeying for power. Robots like Kavan marching across the surface of this planet, conquering all, robots like these Generals, making copies of themselves, making robots to lead, robots that have never done anything else…
Sandale had stepped forward. ‘What are you doing?’ he demanded. ‘Why do you bring these troops into this place?’
‘As witnesses, Sandale.’ And he raised his voice so it could be heard within the forge.
‘General Sandale. Generals. I accuse you all of treachery! You are traitors to Nyro!’ Silence fell in the forge. All were listening. ‘Robots!’ he shouted. ‘We have made a grave mistake in Artemis City. We see it standing here before us. Where we should have built robots to fight and to build to the glory of Nyro, we chose instead to weave minds to lead us. That was a mistake! Because to them, leadership has become all! They have never walked a battlefield, they have never constructed a bridge or a forge or an engine. Worse than that, they don’t see any reason why they should do so! Instead, they believe that an ability to lead is all that is required. And so they do anything they can to continue that leadership, even if it means betraying us and Nyro to the animals! Better that, in their minds, than have Kavan return here to oust them!’
The forge was filled with silent attention. The crackle of the fires burning, the gentle pulse of the magnetic motors, the distant hammering, all seemed to fade into the background in the ringing of this greater truth. So many robots looking on, their rifles and knives and awls so far untouched. There was unresolved tension, waiting to be dissipated one way or the other. Of all the Generals, only Sandale seemed untouched by the building current. His low voice carried across the room.
‘You accuse us of treachery? It is you who do not follow the will of Artemis. Artemis’s leaders did not request your presence in this forge.’
Spoole walked forward, his simple, elegant body an eloquent contrast to the over-engineered machine that Sandale wore.
‘You no longer have any authority, Sandale. Not since you gave over part of Artemis to those who do not follow Nyro.’
Sandale smiled.
‘Spoole, did not Nyro herself say that land is not important? Only Artemis. The animals rendered a service to Artemis; they took the land as their payment.’
‘What service, Sandale?’
‘They rid us of Kavan, Spoole. Have you forgotten that was also your wish?’
‘Not in that manner, Sandale, never in that manner!’