‘Really?’ said the other robot, suddenly suspicious. ‘And what are they? Shouldn’t you be on the walls with the other infantry?’
‘No,’ said Susan. ‘And my orders are none of your business. I’ve been sent here on an important job.’
Susan had killed another robot not half an hour ago. At the moment she felt as if she could do anything. Facing down a computer was the least of her worries. She held his gaze.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘fine. We’ve all got our jobs to do.’ And he hurried off down the road.
Susan set off in the direction he had indicated. The streets seemed hollow, empty of life and movement. Nothing but steel doors set in red-brick walls. One of them opened and another computer appeared. Her courage had not yet deserted her; she decided to bluff it out.
‘I’m looking for Spoole,’ she said.
‘Only one of you?’
‘How many did Spoole expect?’
‘It’s not for me to say,’ replied the computer. ‘But I suppose a robot in his position will be happy with what support he can find. You’d better come this way!’
Vignette had been right, she realized. The Generals really were in disarray. The city was not being properly led at the moment, and that left scope for robots such as herself to move between the spaces.
She followed the computer through the door, down a corridor, into huge room, past lines of desks. A few green-painted robots still sat working at them. Steel styli scratched shapes into the metal foil.
Up one flight of stairs, and then another. She passed more rooms where robots still worked.
‘The sheets pass up the building,’ said the computer, conversationally. Susan had the impression that, to him, the coming war was nothing more than a reason for more foil to be written on. His true world existed in here, all else was just pale shadows. ‘The figures are analysed and reduced on each floor. As they approach the upper levels all that data is changed to information.’
‘Oh,’ said Susan.
The computer touched her elbow, the current in his hand weak.
‘I thought you might like to know,’ he said, smiling all the time, ‘while you’re here and all. People look at Artemis City and all they see is train tracks and infantryrobots, but there is more to this state than that!’ He squeezed the grey metal of her elbow harder. ‘No offence intended, of course.’
‘None taken,’ said Susan as they climbed yet another flight of steps. The robots on this floor seemed slightly better built than the ones below. The foil they worked on was of higher quality, judging by the colour of the metal.
‘These offices are what makes Artemis possible!’ said the robot proudly. ‘Those robots are producing the information that will enable Spoole and General Sandale and the rest to make decisions. But decisions are only part of the story. Okay, there are tactics involved in attacking a city, but that’s not all. You wouldn’t believe what it takes to move guns and troops and supplies and ammunition to the right place! Logistics is the key to Artemisian success!’ His eyes glowed as he spoke, but that glow suddenly faded. ‘Saving the contribution you and the other infantry make of course,’ he added.
They had left the building now. They were walking out across a glass and metal bridge that stretched over the street far below, connecting the computer office with the building opposite. Susan’s gyros lurched when she realized where they were going.
‘Is this the Basilica?’ asked Susan, in wonder.
‘Oh yes!’ said the computer, proudly. ‘This bridge is part of the information superhighway that connects all of the Centre City! Hundreds of sheets of foil a day travel this way!’
They entered the Basilica, and Susan looked around at the decoration that had appeared. Maybe it wasn’t as ostentatious as that of Turing City, but it was there. Gold, silver, platinum, titanium, tungsten, all wrapped around each other, moulded into the walls. Always discretely, austerely, but there nonetheless.
She had been right. The Centre City was a statement after all, and the thought filled her with sadness. She doubted she would ever be able to tell this to Karel.
But these thoughts were pushed from her head as the robot opened a door and led her into a sparsely furnished room. A steel-clad robot stood inside, gazing out of the window. So simple was his appearance that Susan did not realize who it was until the computer spoke.
‘There’s an infantryrobot here to see you, Spoole.’
They’d built trenches and walls, thought Kavan. They’d lost already. What would be in those trenches, he wondered. Petrol? Hot oil? What would he put in them?
Kavan knew the answer to that: he wouldn’t have built them in the first place.
‘The trenches can be bridged,’ said Ada.
Kavan looked at the engineer, her blue body streaked with oil. She was loving this, he knew. He could hear it in the rich hum of current that rose from her body.
‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘We’d be cut down by the troops in the middle if we funnelled ourselves in that way.’
‘Well, when you’re ready, just say the word.’ Ada didn’t seem to mind. She was gazing eagerly at the iron wall. ‘Just get me close enough to that. Let me get to work on it.’
‘I will.’ Kavan felt a curious sense of satisfaction. This was what he was made for. He was back in his element again. Something caught his attention.
‘What is it?’ asked Ada, unscrewing the end of a metal cylinder, checking the explosives inside.
‘That Scout.’
‘Yes?’
‘You don’t see many male Scouts, do you?’
‘Something to do with the pattern of the mind,’ said Ada, glancing at the silver robot nearby. ‘It works better when it’s female.’ The robot’s body was as graceful and feminine as any other Scout’s, but there was something about the way that he went through his warm up movements that was unmistakeably male.
‘Why do you ask?’ said Ada. ‘It’s a funny thing to wonder about, just before a battle.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Kavan. ‘We take things for granted, don’t we? Did you ever have children Ada?’
‘No. That’s a job for the mothers of Artemis.’ She gazed at him. ‘Did you ever have children, Kavan?’
‘No. We are all woven with our own purpose.’
And this is mine, he reflected.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘It’s time to begin.’
Susan and Spoole
‘Come in,’ said Spoole.
Susan walked into the room, her gyros spinning.
‘Turn down the power,’ said Spoole, ‘I can feel the current in your electromuscles from here.’
With an effort, Susan forced herself to relax.
‘What’s your name, soldier?’
‘Susan.’
‘Susan. And how many robots to you represent, Susan? How many infantryrobots do you bring to follow me?’
‘How many?’ said Susan. ‘There’s just me.’
‘Just you?’
If Spoole was disappointed, he didn’t show it. He looked more closely at her.
‘Who are you? You don’t wear that body like an Artemisian. Are you a conscript?’
‘My name is Susan. I’m a Turing Citizen.’
‘There is no such place any more.’
Susan looked at Spoole. ‘I thought that you would be at the front line, leading your troops.’
‘Artemis is no longer led in that manner,’ he said. ‘Besides, there are other plans in place…
His voice trailed away.
Susan stared at the robot standing by the window, his body reflecting the yellow glow of the lights beyond. This was Spoole, the leader of Artemis. She was standing not five feet from the man who was ultimately
