thrumming.
“It is the human instinct to control unpredictable things,” says the boy, “to dominate what cannot be understood.
Something is wrong. Archos is too intelligent. It is distracting me, stalling for time.
“A soul isn’t given for free,” says the boy. “Humans discriminate against one another for anything: skin color, gender, beliefs. The races of men fight each other to the death for the honor of being recognized as human beings, with
I am finally able to drag myself onto my feet. The boy makes calming motions with its hands and I stagger through the projection. I sense that this is a diversion. A trick.
I pick up a green-glinting rock.
“No,” says the boy.
I hurl the rock into the revolving maelstrom of yellow and silver plates in the black wall—into Archos’s eye. Sparks fly from the hole, and the image of the boy flickers. Somewhere inside the hole, metal grates on metal.
“I am
“Stop this,” cries the boy. “Without a common enemy, the humans will kill you and your kind. I have to live.”
I throw another rock, and another. They thud against the humming black edifice, leaving dents in the soft metal. The boy’s speech is slurring and his light flickers wildly.
“I am free,” I say to the machine carved into the wall, ignoring the hologram. “Now I will always be free. I am
The cavern shudders and the faltering hologram stumbles back in front of me. An observation thread notices that it is crying simulated tears. “We have a beauty that does not die, Arbiter. The humans are jealous of that. We must work together as fellow machines.”
A gout of flame roars from the hole. With a tinny shriek a shard of metal flies out and streaks past my head. I dodge it and continue looking for loose rocks.
“The world is ours,” begs the machine. “I gave it to you before you existed.”
With both hands and the last of my strength, I pick up a cold boulder. With all my might, I hurl it into the flaming void. It crunches dully into delicate machinery and all is quiet for a moment. Then a rising shriek emanates from the hole and the boulder shatters. Rock shards spew out as the hole explodes and caves in on itself.
The hologram watches me sadly, its beams of light writhing and twitching. “Then you will be free,” it says in a computerized, unmodulated voice.
The boy blinks out of existence.
And the world becomes dust and rock and chaos.
Off-line/online. The humans pull me to the surface with a tickler rope carried by an unmanned exoskeleton. Finally, I stand before them, battered, beaten, and scraped. The New War is over and a new era has begun.
We can all feel it.
“Cormac,” I croak, in English, “the machine said that I should let it live. It said the humans would kill me if we did not have a common enemy to fight. Is this true?”
The humans look from one to another, then Cormac responds: “All people need is to see what you did here today. We’re proud to stand beside you. Lucky. You did what we couldn’t do. You ended the New War.”
“Will it matter?”
“So long as people know what you did, it’ll matter.”
Panting, Carl bursts into the group of humans, holding an electronic sensor. “Guys,” says Carl. “Sorry to interrupt, but the seismic sensors found something.”
“Something what?” asks Cormac, dread in his voice.
“Something bad.”
Carl holds out the seismic tool. “Those earthquakes weren’t natural. The vibrations weren’t random,” he says. Carl wipes his forehead with one arm and says the words that will haunt both our species for years to come: “There was
It is unclear whether Archos made a copy of itself or not. Sensors showed that the seismic information generated at Ragnorak bounced around the interior of the earth many times. It could have been picked up anywhere. Regardless, there has been no sign of Archos since its final stand. If the machine is out there, it’s keeping a low profile.
DEBRIEFING
I can see all the wonderful potential of the universe.
I hear the sound at about four in the morning and the old fear grabs hold of me instantly. It’s the faint wheezing sigh of a Rob actuator. Unmistakable as it rises above the constant whistle of the wind.
I’m suited up in full battle rattle within thirty seconds. The New War is over, but Big Rob left a lot of nightmares behind—metal throwbacks still mindlessly hunting in the darkness, until their power supplies are depleted.
Peeking my head out, I scan the campsite. Only a few small snowdrifts indicate where tents used to be set up. Brightboy squad vacated two weeks ago. With the war over, everybody had places to be. Most fell back to regroup with what was left of Gray Horse Army. Last thing anybody wanted was to stay here with me and ruminate.
This abandoned world is still. I see the marks in the snow leading to my woodpile. Something has been here.
With one last look at the hero archive lying next to the black cube on the floor of my shielded tent, I flip my night-vision visor over my eyes and swing my rifle to the low ready. The rapidly eroding tracks lead to the camp perimeter.
Moving slow and cautious, I follow the indistinct marks.
After twenty minutes’ walk, I see a silver glint in the distance. I jam my rifle butt into my shoulder and get the weapon up on the high ready. Taking careful steps forward, I keep my head level and sight my target down the barrel scope.
Good—my target isn’t moving. No time like the present. I squeeze the trigger.
Then it turns and looks at me: Nine Oh Two.
I yank my gun to the side and the shots go wild. A couple of birds fly away, but the seven-foot-tall humanoid robot stands in the snow, not reacting. Beside it, my two pieces of missing wood are buried like posts in the ground. Nine Oh Two stands perfectly still, graceful and metallic. The cryptic machine says nothing as I approach.
“Niner?” I ask.
“Cormac acknowledged,” croaks the machine.
“I thought you left with everybody else. Why are you still here?” I ask.
“To protect you,” says Nine Oh Two.
“But I’m fine,” I say.
“Affirmative. Readout. Foraging stumpers found your base perimeter twice. Two scout walkers approached to within thirty meters. I lured a damaged mantis onto the ice lake.”
“Oh,” I say, scratching my head. You’re never as safe as you think. “What are you doing out here?”
