She felt the electronic pulse throbbing from his leg, turned him over and saw the way the electromuscle there was caught on the external metal.
Gently, she set about easing the panelling away.
‘Easy,’ she said. ‘It will be all right.’
She looked over to where Axel lay sleeping, dark despair filling her like oil.
Olam
Olam fixed his gaze on the two robots that brought up the rear of the grey procession ahead.
‘Why don’t we attack?’ he asked. ‘All that metal should belong to Artemis. You’re letting it get away!’
‘Let’s see where they’re going first,’ replied Doe Capaldi, giving him a questioning look. ‘They’re not going to move very fast. There are children with them.’
‘We should shoot the children first. Let the parents see them die. That will break their spirit.’
Silence.
‘It’s true,’ said Olam.
‘We follow them for the moment.’
‘But they’re heading out into the darkness!’
Olam looked down his rifle sights, turned the gun to bear on a grey child, took aim at the oddly shaped head that swayed back and forth as it walked. Doe Capaldi pushed the rifle to one side.
‘I wasn’t going to shoot.’
‘Weren’t you?’ Doe Capaldi gave him another questioning look. ‘You know, the upper classes of Wien used to debate about behaviour like yours.’
‘Wien is no more,’ said Olam, with bitter satisfaction.
‘That may be,’ said Doe Capaldi, unperturbed. ‘But the debate remains. You see, some argued that we are all just metal, that in the end we are all equal.’
‘But we aren’t, are we?’
‘You’re missing the point,’ replied Doe Capaldi smoothly. ‘That was one side of the debate, but there was another. There were those who said that the upper classes were needed. They said that we were the necessary check on society, that which kept things functioning within reasonable bounds.’
‘Wien is no more.’
The land outside Turing City was pitted with opencast mines; it was scored with the lines of abandoned ditches and valleys that had followed the veins of ore to their end. The heavy black exhaust gases of the city forges settled out here, the sea wind rippling the oily surface of the stagnant pools and agitating the sluggish rivers of smoke.
The Turing City robots marched out of the city, and Olam watched as they waded into a stream of black smoke, waded deeper and deeper until they were lost beneath its surface.
‘They’re getting away!’ said Olam in frustration.
‘Just for the moment,’ said Doe Capaldi. ‘Look over there.’
Olam looked in the direction that Doe Capaldi had pointed, still getting used to his more powerful Artemisian eyes. And then he saw it, a line of smoke parting as if an invisible ship sailed through it, a silver shape ploughing a furrow beneath the wave.
‘It’s a train,’ he said slowly.
‘Built along the valley floor,’ observed Doe Capaldi, ‘hidden by the smoke. Jenny, what do you think?’
Olam wondered what it was exactly that Doe Capaldi saw in Jenny. They all wore exactly the same bodies. Why did he constantly defer to her?
‘More Turing Citizens escaping?’ wondered Jenny. ‘I get the impression they were expecting us.’
‘But how?’ said Olam angrily. ‘We didn’t know ourselves we were attacking until a couple of days ago.’
‘Peace, Olam,’ said Doe Capaldi. ‘Jenny, can we take out that train?’
Jenny gazed at the roiling line of smoke, judging distances.
‘No.’
‘Then let us kill the robots on foot,’ said Olam. ‘Now, before we lose them amongst the smoke.’
He stared in frustration at the line of citizens as they slipped down into the valley.
Doe Capaldi spoke. ‘I think we should return to the city now. These robots pose no danger to us. There may still be fighting in the city itself.’
‘But they will get away!’ said Olam in amazement.
‘They can’t go so far. Their metal will be ours eventually.’
‘But…’
‘Olam, there is no mind. There is only metal. Does it matter when Artemis claims their metal? Come, we return to the city.’
At that, Doe Capaldi’s section turned and began to move back towards the burning city.
Olam paused for a moment, watching the last of the grey shapes disappearing into the pall of smoke.
He wanted to kill.
Four o’clock in the morning, and the silence was broken. They heard a hard clanging, the sound of a metal hand beating on a metal door. They heard voices and an electronic scream, suddenly silenced.
‘The end of the hall,’ said Susan. ‘Draycott, Foxcote and Cookham.’ She didn’t stop working on Karel’s poor damaged hand. It was dark, they had no heat from the forge, but she was still working away skilfully, straightening joints, reattaching ligaments.
Someone was shouting now. It sounded like a question, the same question being asked over and over again.
‘What’s going on?’ murmured Susan.
There was a gunshot, and then another scream. It went on and on.
‘Axel, turn off your ears.’
The child had been woken by the noise. He gazed around the room with bright yellow eyes.
‘What for?’
‘Just do it!’
There was more banging.
‘They’re moving up the hall,’ said Susan. ‘That’s Dunley and Hinton.’
Karel said nothing. They should have run. Maybe it wasn’t too late to do so. If only they had magnetic hands and feet, they could climb down the outside of the building. Karel looked towards the cold forge and cursed himself. They couldn’t do anything without the fire.
They could hear more shouting. The same question being asked as before. Karel listened closely. It sounded like they were saying ‘Choose’.
Susan had heard and she understood.
‘Choose Axel, Karel,’ she said. ‘Choose Axel.’
‘It won’t come to that,’ said Karel. ‘We’ll just cooperate with them.’
For a moment Susan lost control of her voice. Strange squeaks and squawks and crackles cut the air.
‘Don’t let them take my baby, Karel,’ she managed at last. ‘You’re stronger than me. You’ll be better able to look after him. Choose him, Karel.’
There was another gunshot, another scream.
‘Susan, I’m not going to let anyone…’
And then the pounding started again, this time on their own door.
Karel looked at Susan. They’ve missed out Madeley and Tungaka, he thought, they’re here already.
He got to his feet.
‘Karel, I love you. No regrets.’
‘I love you too, Susan.’
Karel paused, his gyros spinning, and then he opened the door.
There were two Artemisian soldiers standing outside. Only two of them. Grey-bodied infantryrobots, smaller than he was. Weaker too. He could fight them, he realized. He and Susan were stronger. He could lure them into
