Whatever it was, the two deaths weren’t the responsibility of the humans. They weren’t the responsibility of the Emperor. He, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, had been in charge of the city. It was he who had failed utterly not only in his duty, but also in his mutiny. Despite his actions, his troops had still died, the people of Sangrel had still died.
Why couldn’t the humans’ weapon have killed him too? What was it that had protected him? Had the excess of metal in this body shielded his mind?
He contemplated walking to the very top of the city and flinging himself from the highest place. If that didn’t shatter his mind, then he would walk back to the top and try again, and again and again until his body was broken.
That was when he remembered. There was still one to whom he was beholden, one who still sought his help. He remembered the message from Jai-Lyn, hidden from him all that time in the radio room.
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do still had one last chance to redeem himself. He had failed everyone else. Maybe it was not too late to save Jai-Lyn.
He had set out immediately for Ka, passing from Sangrel and into the lands beyond, walking for mile after agonizing mile in that heavy body that sunk to the ankles in anything less than the firmest ground. He heard a low, static-filled hum and he realized it was his own voice; the agony he felt was leaking out through his speaker. With an heroic effort he stilled it and went on walking, pulling his feet, covered in clods of mud, from the soft earth, passing through the fields the animals had planted.
After a while he had the sense that he was being watched, and he turned this way and that, too slow in that leaden body, seeking other signs of life. How many other robots had survived the attack?
Eventually he found himself on a white stone path, kicking up dust as he made his way to the coast. He saw smoke coming from a nearby forge, saw robots emerging from the doorway. They beckoned to him, but he kept on walking: outcast, pariah, unfit for the company of others. His shame and sense of failure glowed within him all the stronger for meeting company.
He saw the fire on the horizon after the third day. Ka was burning, he knew it. Still he walked on.
Other robots walked the road.
‘What news from Sangrel?’ called one, gazing in horror at Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s heavy body.
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do said nothing, he just kept on walking, still too ashamed to speak.
‘Hey! What did they do to you? Let me help!’
‘I don’t deserve it.’
Slowly, he limped on.
That day he turned aside from the white stone road to avoid the other robots that walked it, and he made his way across the land, heading directly for the burning city and its black column of smoke.
The green hills gave way to flatter, marshy ground. To his right he saw the road, graceful white bridges arcing over the ditches and swamps. He ignored them, moving deeper and deeper into the saltwater-soaked land that bordered Ka. The sun burned red as it set, mirroring the flames of the city; it reflected in patches from the land, it stained the sky the colour of dull iron.
He passed into the swamp, and he sought out the rills of rock that lined the marshy bed, following the stone paths, the green water up to his waist, sometimes up to his neck. Occasionally he walked underwater, his vision a green blur, and the slippery shapes of organic life whipped around him all the time. He would emerge onto a soft bank and look ahead to see the city seemingly no closer, the despair within him no less, the pain as intense as ever.
Still he marched on.
Susan stood in the Marshalling Office. Through the window she could see the silver lines that spread out across the world, converging upon her. A line of wagons was passing beneath her right now and she found her eyes drawn to it, the regular flick, flick as the end of one wagon passed by and another rolled on.
The Marshalling Officer didn’t seem to notice.
‘Well,’ he said, looking down once more at the piece of foil, ‘this is the service you want, but it’s not going to do you any good. It doesn’t run any more.’
‘Why not?’ said Susan, frustrated. Another train rumbled by underneath, this time heading into the yards.
‘Oooh, well, it was a special service, see? Only ran for about a month, straight into the humans’ compound. They’re not accepting direct services at the moment.’
‘Why not?’
The Marshalling Officer laughed. He was painted a pale green, not quite the same as the computers of the Centre City.
‘Why not? Susan, you’re not on official business are you?’
‘Yes I am, I told you-’
‘Susan, it’s okay! I don’t care, see? All I want to do is to ensure that Artemis works. The way I do that is by making sure the railways run smoothly.’
‘Listen…’
‘Gresley.’
‘Listen, Gresley, the robot in question used to work in Making Room 14. She has information-’
‘Susan, I really don’t care. Half the information on this continent flows through here. I know what’s really going on. I know that Kavan is out there on the plain somewhere, building an army. I know that he is getting ready to attack this city again, and I know that he is coming closer. He might even be here by now. Troops ride in and out on these trains all the time. If I were Kavan I would have simply hopped on board one of them.’
‘Yes but-’
‘No, Susan, listen to me. I know that the robots in this city are growing more and more unhappy about the way Sandale and the rest have made an alliance with what are no more than a bunch of animals. I know that unrest is growing all the time. They say that we are receiving metal from the humans in return for land, but I’ve examined the lading bills and I know that we’re giving away more than we’re receiving.’
‘And you think this is wrong?’ said Susan, eagerly.
‘Susan, you misunderstand! I don’t care!’
The pale-green robot sat down on a seat by the metal desk that overlooked the yard and spread the foil out before him.
‘I keep trying to explain, I don’t run this city. I don’t make decisions about which lands we should conquer, or about where we build our forges, see? My mind wasn’t twisted to do that. What I do is make sure that the goods on the railways are picked up, and that they are deposited at their destination. If anything passes beneath this gantry, then it is my business to know about it. Do you understand that?’
‘Yes, I understand.’
‘Good. Then understand this, Susan. I don’t care who you are, I don’t care if you work for Kavan or Sandale or Spoole. I don’t even care if you’re in this for yourself. In a few weeks’ time such things will probably all be irrelevant anyway!’
‘Yes, so-’
‘So, ask me anything you like, and I will be delighted to answer!’
At that Gresley sat back in his seat and smiled.
‘This state has rust in the mind,’ said Susan.
‘It may well do,’ said Gresley, ‘but as long as the railways run properly, I am a happy robot.’
Susan took the piece of foil from the desk.
‘My friend was taken into the human compound on this service,’ she said. ‘I want to follow her in there.’
‘There we are!’ said Gresley. ‘Why didn’t you say that at the start?’
He leaped to his feet and walked to the other side of the room, where he examined a piece of foil pinned to the wall.
‘Now,’ he said, examining it carefully. ‘As I said, there are no direct services to the human compound planned. However, there are a number of troop trains being prepared for a direct attack on the compound.’
‘They’re going to attack the humans?’ said Susan, in astonishment.
