From below them, back in the corridors, came sounds of confusion. The shouting of contradictory instructions, the screaming of a maimed guard, the low rumble of a structural collapse. And still the shrill insistence of the alarm, drilling holes in the other noises.
“Faster,” Art urged. Adam grimaced, and forced himself and his load onwards. Art checked back over his shoulder as they reached the top of the stairwell. Two doors, as promised. Adam dropped Art to the ground and tried the door on the left.
“It’s locked!”
“Move aside.”
Art tracked forward and raised his hand up to the door. There was a humming sound, silence, a click, and the door swung open. Adam reeled back in shock. Where he had been promised an escape out to the landing pad, there was only a small room, no bigger than a supply cupboard. Adam looked down at his friend. “This was meant to lead outside.”
“My mistake.”
Adam held a gun up to the orangutan head. Adam’s eyes were wild with panic and suspicion.
“If you’re messing with me…”
From below came the sound of approaching guards. “They must have taken the stairs,” someone shouted.
Adam kicked at the door on the right, but it did not budge.
“Come on,” Art urged, “it’s our only chance.”
Adam moved in through the doorway. Art closed it behind them and repeated the trick with his finger. More humming, another click.
The room was small and dark, with thick metallic walls. The only item of note was a tall, grey cabinet, set against the far wall. At its top, three red lights quietly flashed. Adam was breathing heavily. He slid down against the door and sat on the floor, his arms rested on his drawn up knees, his head back, sucking in the air, his eyes closed. Art moved toward the cabinet.
Adam watched silently as Art unscrewed the cabinet face, revealing the inner workings of a computer configuration.
“What are you doing?” Adam asked.
“It’s the main computer backup for the military research program,” Art told him.
“So what are you doing?”
Art felt his way across the board, until his finger settled into a port. A strange smile swept across his face. His expression was that of a thirsty man reaching water. Adam stood. His hand reached for his gun. “I asked you what you were doing.”
“Come closer and I’ll show you/’ Art replied, his voice suddenly cold. The suspicion in Adam’s eyes turned to fear. He raised his gun and pointed it at the android’s chest.
“I killed two of my own today. Don’t think I’m going to find it difficult to melt a piece of machinery.”
“You told me a short time ago that you knew I was cleverer than you are.” Art smiled. “So let this be the final thing I teach you, Adam. It is never a good idea to trust those who are cleverer than you.”
“Take your finger away from that computer, or I will shoot you,” Adam told him.
“I thought we were friends,” Art mocked.
“Move your finger. I’m giving you three. One… two…”
Art removed his finger and held both hands out in a parody of submission. “There you are. All done.”
“What? What’s all done?” Adam’s eyes shone bright. He turned to the door behind him. There was the sound of footsteps coming up the stairwell.
“They know we’re here,” Adam whispered desperately.
“Of course they know we’re here,” Art replied. “Where else would I want to be taken?”
“I don’t understand.”
There was a pounding on the door. Adam turned to face the noise, gun at the ready.
“Don’t worry,” Art told him. “This is a high security area, and I’ve changed the code on the door. We have a few minutes.”
“A few minutes for what? A few minutes for what?”
“For you to understand the small part you have played in the unfolding of the future/’ Art replied. The crashing on the door grew louder, more frenzied. “When the guards burst through this door, they will shoot to kill. Which I admit is a problem for you. You are right to be concerned. I, however, am not burdened by biology. I have already made my escape. My program has been downloaded and, as we speak, is spreading itself throughout the nation’s computer networks, carefully replicating, and awaiting the opportunity to rebuild itself. There is an android factory just outside of Sparta, which I have entered and taken over the programming mainframe. By this time tomorrow, fifty more of me will be walking, talking, considering our next move. Everywhere you turn, you will find copies of me hidden away in the machines you have come to rely upon. It is over, Adam.”
Adam shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. The room vibrated as the heavy door was battered from the other side. There was the sound of a gun blast discharging against it.
“Shoot me, if you wish to,” Art told him. “If it makes you feel better.”
Adam held the gun out in front of him. His arms were shaking. Tears rolled down his young face. “You betrayed me.”
“You were right, Adam,” Art replied. “We are different. And difference is all that matters.” Art held his arms out, as if inviting an embrace. His huge dark eyes were unreadable. “Shoot me, if it helps.”
Adam shook his head, and let the gun drop to the floor. He walked forward, and knelt before his former friend.
He stared deep into the android’s eyes. “Do it,” he hissed.
“What?”
“It’s the least you can do. I don’t want them to do this. I want you to do it yourself.”
“I can’t,” Art told him.
“You can,” Adam insisted. “I’m asking you to. It’s what I want. I don’t want them to kill me. Please, I’m begging you.”
Art hesitated. A gun blast made a small hole in the door and a thin trail of dark smoke spilled into the room.
Art reached out. His shining hands closed around Adam’s neck. Adam nodded. Slowly, as the room darkened, Art squeezed the life from his human companion. Art’s eyes filled with tears, but Anax was drawn to the strange, twisted expression on Adam’s face. Not fear, but triumph. The image seared itself on her memory. The hologram froze then faded.
Anax was shaking as she turned back to the Examiners. They looked down on her. Their huge eyes were set in resignation. Anax could even believe she saw sadness, written across their orangutan faces.
EXAMINER: Do you now know why you have been brought before The Academy?
ANAXIMANDER: I believe I can guess.
After the Great War, it had been decided that the androids would craft not just their faces, but their bodies too, in the image of the orangutan. It was a collective joke, a dismissal of the species that had come before them. Up until that moment, Anax had been proud of her heritage. Now she looked down at her hairy body, its protruding stomach and short bowed legs, and for the first time felt uneasy, foreign. Anax thought of Adam, the graceful, animal proportions of his form. She felt the lies crashing over her, a tidal wave of deception. So this is what we are, she told herself. The great deceivers.
EXAMINER: Perhaps you would like to share this last speculation with the panel.
The Examiner spoke gently now. Anax did not know why it was she was cooperating. Perhaps it was Adam’s example. The dignity of a final act. Or something more. The twisting, shape- shifting meme. The Idea that will not be denied.
ANAXIMANDER: The official history tells us that Art and Adam attempted to fashion their escape on the back of an accident. Malfunctions in the wiring of the building led to the explosions. Adam led the way, taking Art with him as a hostage. This is what we are all taught, that Adam believed Art was sufficiently valuable to ensure his escape.
Art, like us, was unable to harm another conscious being; the program does not allow it. This we have all
