of Nakamura’s minions could create robots like these, only Richard would know enough about me to make a Joan of Arc and an Eleanor of Aquitaine. Anyway, what difference does it make if I’m killed while trying to escape? My electrocution is scheduled for eight o’clock this morning.
There was the sound of a biot approaching outside her cell. Nicole tensed, still not completely convinced that her two tiny friends were indeed telling her the truth. “Sit back down on the cot,” she heard Joan say behind her, “so Eleanor and I can climb into your pockets.” Nicole felt the two robots scrambling up the front of her shirt. She smiled. You are amazing, Richard, she thought.
The Garcia biot was carrying a flashlight. It strode into Nicole’s cell with an air of authority. “Come with me, Mrs. Wakefield,” it said in a loud voice. “I have orders to move you to the preparations room.”
Again Nicole was frightened. The biot certainly wasn’t acting friendly. What if… But she had very little time to think. The Garcia led Nicole through the corridor outside her cell at a rapid pace. Twenty meters later, they passed both the regular set of biot guards and a human commanding officer, a young man Nicole had never seen before. “Wait,” the man yelled from behind them just as Nicole and the Garcia were about to climb the stairs. Nicole froze.
“You forgot to sign the transfer papers,” the man said, holding out a document to the Garcia. “Certainly,” the biot replied, entering its identification signature on the papers with a flourish. After less than a minute Nicole was outside the large house where she had been imprisoned for months. She took a deep breath of the fresh air and started to follow the Garcia down a path toward Central City.
“No,” Nicole heard Eleanor call from her pocket. “We’re not going with the biot. Go west. Toward that windmill with the light on top. And you must run. We must arrive at Max Puckett’s before dawn.”
Her prison was almost five kilometers from Max’s farm. Nicole jogged down the small road at a steady pace, urged on periodically by one of the two robots, who were keeping careful track of the time. It was not long until dawn. Unlike on the Earth, where the transition from night to day was gradual, in New Eden dawn was a sudden, discontinuous event. One moment it would be dark and then, in the next instant, the artificial sun would ignite and begin its mini-arc across the ceiling of the colony habitat.
“Twelve more minutes until light,” Joan said, as Nicole reached the bicycle path that led the final two hundred meters to the Puckett farmhouse. Nicole was nearly exhausted, but she kept running. Two separate times during her run across the farmland she had felt a dull ache in her chest. I am definitely out of shape, she thought, chastising herself for not having exercised regularly in her prison cell. 45 is as well as sixty years old, more or less.
The farmhouse was dark. Nicole stopped on the porch, catching her breath, and the door opened a few seconds later. “I have been waiting for you,” Max said, his earnest expression underscoring the seriousness of the situation. He gave Nicole a quick hug. “Follow me,” he said, moving quickly off toward the barn.
“There have been no police cars yet on the road,” Max said when they were inside the bam. “They probably have not yet discovered that you’re gone. But it’s only a matter of minutes now.”
The chickens were all kept on the far side of the barn. The hens had a separate enclosure, sealed off from the roosters and the rest of the building. When Max and Nicole entered the henhouse, mere was a huge commotion. Animals scurried in all directions, clucking and squawking and beating their wings. The stench in the henhouse nearly overpowered Nicole.
Max smiled. “I guess I forget how bad chicken shit smells to everyone else,” he said, “I’ve grown so used to it myself.” He slapped Nicole lightly on the back. “Anyway, it’s another level of protection for you, and I don’t think you’ll be able to smell the shit from your hideout.”
Max walked over to a corner of the henhouse, chased several hens out of the way, and bent down on his knees. “When those weird little robots of Richard’s first appeared,” he said, pushing aside hay and chicken feed, “I couldn’t decide where I should build your hideout. Then I thought about this place.” Max pulled up a couple of boards to expose a rectangular hole in the floor of the barn. “I sure as hell hope I was right.”
He motioned for Nicole to follow him and then crawled into the hole. They were both on their hands and knees in the dirt. The passageway, which ran parallel to the floor for a few meters and then turned downward at a steep angle, was extremely cramped. Nicole kept bumping up against Max in front of her and the dirt walls and ceiling all around her. The only light was the small flashlight that Max was carrying in his right hand. After fifteen meters the small tunnel opened into a dark room. Max stepped carefully down a rope ladder and then turned to help Nicole descend. A few seconds later they both walked into the center of the room, where Max reached up and switched on a solitary electric light.
“It’s not a palace,” he said as Nicole glanced around, “but I suspect it’s a damn sight better than that prison of yours.”
The room contained a bed, a chair, two shelves full of food, another shelf with electronic book discs, a few clothes hanging in an open closet, basic toiletries, a large drum of water that must have barely fit through the passageway, and a deep, square latrine in the far corner.
“Did you do all this yourself?’ Nicole asked.
“Yep,” Max replied. “At night… during the last several weeks. I didn’t dare ask anybody to help.”
Nicole was touched. “How can I ever thank you?” she said.
“Don’t get caught.” Max grinned. “I don’t want to die any more than you do… Oh, by the way,” he added, handing Nicole an electronic reader into which she could place the book discs, “I hope the reading material is all right. Manuals on raising pigs and chickens are not the same as your father’s novels, but I didn’t want to attract too much attention by going to the bookstore.”
Nicole crossed the room and kissed him on the cheek. “Max,” she said lightly, “you are such a dear friend. I can’t imagine how you—”
“It’s dawn outside now,” Joan of Arc interrupted from Nicole’s pocket. “According to our timeline, we are behind schedule. Mr. Puckett, we must inspect our egress route before you leave us.”
“Shit,” said Max. “Here I go again, taking orders from a robot no longer than a cigarette.” He lifted Joan and Eleanor out of Nicole’s pockets and placed them on the top shelf behind a can of peas. “Do you see that little door?” he said. “There’s a pipe on the other side. It comes out just beyond the pig trough… Why don’t you check it out?”
During the minute or two that the robots were gone, Max explained the situation to Nicole. “The police will searching everywhere for you,” he said. “Particularly here since they know that I am a friend of the family. So going to seal the entrance to your hideout. You should hi everything you need to last for at least several weeks.
“The robots can come and go freely, unless they eaten by the pigs,” Max continued with a laugh. “They be your only contact with the outside world. They’ll let you know when it’s time to move to the second phase of escape plan.”
“So I won’t see you again?” Nicole asked.
“Not for at least a few weeks,” Max answered. “It’s too dangerous… One more thing: if there are police on the premises, I will cut off your power. That will be your signal to stay especially quiet.”
Eleanor of Aquitaine had returned and was standing on the shelf next to the can of peas. “Our egress route is excellent,” she announced. “Joan has departed for a few days. She intends to leave the habitat and communicate with Richard.”
“Now I must leave also,” Max said to Nicole. He was silent for a few seconds. “But not before I tell you one thing, my lady friend… As you probably know, I have been a fucking cynic all my life. There are not very many people who impress me. But you have convinced me that maybe some of us are superior to chickens and pigs.” Max smiled. “Not many of us,” he added quickly, “but at least some.”
“Thank you, Max,” Nicole said.
Max walked over to the ladder. He turned around and waved before he began his climb.
Nicole sat down in the chair and took a deep breath. From the sounds in the direction of the tunnel, she surmised correctly that Max was sealing the entrance to her hideout by placing the big bags of chicken feed directly over the hole.
So what happens now? Nicole asked herself. She realized that she had thought about very little except her approaching death during the five days since the conclusion of her trial. Without the fear of her imminent execution to structure her thought patterns, Nicole was able to let her mind drift freely.
She thought first of Richard, her husband and partner, from whom she had been separated now for almost
