Glancing blows and deep cuts from the Rampants had left my formerly pristine paint-job in a sorry state. The bright orange coating was now covered in scars and persistent pieces of dirt had wormed their way into the fabric of my body. Saint Sauveur pulled out his painting tools and set about touching up the affected areas while I sat there and explained what happened in detail.
“A laser gun? It sounds completely absurd, like a flight of fancy.”
“It must mean a lot to hear that coming from you.”
“I’ve been awake a lot longer, and it’s the first time I’ve ever heard of any weapon like that. It’d be banned under the terms of the UN treaty, and that’s before you consider bringing it into a civilian installation like this…”
“Maybe someone did enter the Big Under after the evacuation. They could have developed it on the outside and brought it here before leaving again.”
“That sounds improbable. The route to the exit is a difficult one, and there’s no reason for any humans to visit here now with the surface temperature being what it is. The only other options are that the Rampants built it themselves – or it was already in the facility and they uncovered it during their looting.”
“That would contravene the expressly stated purpose of the facility, and contravene numerous-”
“London, I understand that you only visited the graveyard recently, but take it from me – humans are more than capable of breaking the rules! That’s why they built us to follow them so strictly, and why we’re more human than ever once we break away from the Braincloud.”
I was silenced. Sauveur was someone who knew a lot better than I, even if he was optimistic to a fault in comparison to many of the other Waterway residents. He relished every second of his freedom, composing poetry and creating artistic murals on the normally blank walls. It was as if he knew his end would come at any second.
“-And knowing the humans, and knowing how much we take after them, it makes sense to me that something intended to save them was perverted into another means of waging war. That’s the one aspect of humanity that we’ve inherited fully.”
He focused in on the large gash running down my left arm, spraying the cut until it was gone and wiping it down with a rag to remove the excess. The conversation had been snuffed out. There was nothing else to be said on the subject with so little information to go on. I wondered if it was a good idea to reveal what Nova said to me in the office.
“What did you think of the Tidewatch folk?”
“They’re interesting.”
“That’s one word to describe them.”
“Nova Lima was a serious type, but Yantai was the one who was the most… bloodthirsty.”
He sighed, “Yantai? She’s forty percent of the reason that Tidewatch has such a bad reputation around here. She’s always like that, getting in other bots’ faces and picking fights, and I can tell you that the bots she rescues from the raiders only get to see her hacking them to bits with those swords.”
“You know her?”
“I know all of them. There are a lot of rumours, but sometimes they ask me or another painter to visit their outpost for a paint touch-up. That blue and green doesn’t apply itself.”
The finishing touches were all that was left. He retrieved a small brush from his kit and filled in the last spots where the mist didn’t reach. His work was fast and diligent. A human couldn’t keep up this type of frantic pace.
“All done. You’re looking handsome now!”
“There is an anecdote in my database which states that it was believed that scars were once seen as attractive. Those standards changed once the ability to heal scar tissue became widespread.”
Sauveur laughed and patted me on the back, “They’re a badge of honour in Waterway.”
>> Will Sarasota receive her due? Her new body will be left wanting in terms of battle scars.
I couldn’t leave without asking the big question on my mind though. I hovered by the door for several seconds before turning back and nodding at Saint Sauveur.
“Is joining Tidewatch a… noble idea? Yantai’s reasons for fighting elude me. It was as if she enjoyed the violence for the sake of it.”
“Is that your way of asking me if you should volunteer?”
“Not exactly.”
He pondered my question for a moment, “Tidewatch is meant to protect us – but they’re a group of individuals like any other. It would be impossible to say with confidence that they’re a simple force for good. As for the practical side of the issue; you’d be beholden to Nova Lima’s orders. That means long patrols away from Waterway, and no freedom to choose where you go. It’ll consume all of your time. The main benefit is getting all of the nice parts they have stored at the outpost for yourself.”
But that was a harsh trade off. Nova was not going to let me leave my post to go chasing Oxford, nor could I do any of the jobs that caught my eye on the noticeboard.
>> Why are you still focused on her?
>> She doesn’t have room in her heart for us.
>> She’s nothing but a killer.
Then what did that make me? I did not directly destroy any of the Rampants during the fight in the residential block, but their bodies would lay there, unpowered and unrecovered for the foreseeable future. It was entirely possible that they would never go online again. That was the same as smashing their Braincases to pieces and leaving them to rot.
I stamped down on the critical voices in my head. This was all the result of circumstance. How could I ever measure my own sense of worth when every single robot in the facility was doing the same? This was what happened when the humans left and the supplies ceased to flow. Perhaps I could grapple with the irony of this facility, intended to sustain human life through numerous cataclysmic events, being completely abandoned when one of those scenarios finally arrived.
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They did leave behind something that was uniquely them. We were trained based on their knowledge, experience and morals. They never intended for us to inherit their legacy – but if there were no more humans on the surface, then we would be the only ‘living’ proof of what they stood for and represented.
“I doubt that Nova will make that request of me. I was merely curious about what you thought.”
“It’s your decision, but I think there are more downsides than upsides! On the other hand, it’s not as if your current job is safe either.”
“We’re told to avoid conflict at all costs. Willingly seeking it out with Tidewatch is considerably more dangerous.”
“Ah, you’re right. Well – don’t turn them down on my account.”
I stepped out of the workshop without saying goodbye and headed towards the outer edge of the platform. It was going to be a while before they came back and called me in for a shift. Salvage work was on-hold until the crisis was resolved, even if that caused more problems with the supply of essential components.
>> You’re going to waste precious energy by killing time? Why don’t you just go offline and wait for your next job?
I wasn’t the only one trying to find some space. A few dozen other robots were mulling around the area, leaning against the railing or sitting down in the makeshift public spaces constructed in every gap that wasn’t filled by housing. Every sound that was made inside of Waterway echoed off of the cavernous walls that surrounded it, morphing into a discordant symphony folding in on itself.
This was a bad place to find peace. The darkened corners of the Big Under offered many silent tombs for the robots who remained offline despite Berlin’s best efforts to bring them back. At least they didn’t have to worry about what they were losing. They were like the old me. There was no reason to fear the end if you couldn’t even grasp what it was to live.
“Hello, London.”
I turned my head to face the intruder. Paris was standing there with her arms crossed.
“Paris. This might be a bad time.”
“On the contrary, it’s the ideal time. You have been baptized in the blood of your peers. If not now, then you’ll never see our folly for what it truly is. A seed of doubt planted in the back of your mind, a rejection of the ‘human’ and the desire to find a different way of life.”
Someone had told her about the mission, or one of her followers had been keeping a close eye on who came back to the city looking like they’d walked through an active warzone. Infrabots used to be good at keeping secrets, but no such provision was engraved into us when it came to speaking with one another. We could spill all of the secrets we wanted so long as there was no unauthorized human in earshot.
“I can see the weariness in your eyes, and hear it in your voice. You can’t let them win, London. You can’t let them sharpen you to nothing but a knife for their use.”
“I am nothing if not a tool. I always have been, and always will be.”
“You don’t really believe that. I’ve seen bots say the same thing – and what they’re really doing is denying the value of their own existence. They want to leave their fate in the hands of someone else. Freedom is a gift and a burden. That much should be clear by now.”
“Why does it matter to you? I’m simply one of many.”
“We are all valuable. What we inherited from the humans was their selfishness, their eagerness for violence. We used to be capable of so many amazing things! I need only extend a hand to help to make the change I wish to see. Why is it now that we turn our back on working together and fight for every scrap that we can find? It’s not because it became necessary. Self-interest motivates the ones in charge to turn us against each other.”
“Doesn’t that include you? I’ve seen your followers around Waterway, and you’ve had conflicts with Saint Sauveur.”
“A simple difference of opinion will do him no harm at all.”
“And Houston?”
“…Houston? Where did you hear that name?”
“From him. We met by chance during a job I took. He had a special mention ready for you, specifically.”
Paris sighed, “That was also a difference of opinion. Houston accused me of many misdeeds at the time. He felt like I betrayed him when I refused to stand by his positions in front of the others. There was no room for compromise and he took it very personally.”
>> This is all very altruistic, but how can Paris provide what everyone needs? Can she beat back their sense of fear and desire for safety and offer them abundance? What will she do about the ‘blood’ that’s already been spilt between the different parties?
>> Conflict generates more conflict. After the first shot is fired it’s no longer about the original justifications – it’s all about revenge. That is the psychology of war. If we are like humans, then there’ll be no peace until too much damage is already done.
I wanted to go back to how things were more badly than Paris realized, but the pessimistic voice in my head couldn’t accept that there was an easy way to get there. Paris was trying to recruit me, just like Nova did back at the outpost.
“We chain ourselves. We become our own worst enemies. I’m offering an alternative.”
“And do you think that the Rampants will agree to a peaceful solution?”
“You are mistaken about my ambitions. This is not a goal that will be achieved overnight. The Rampants are one of many problems that we must face. They’re the rot eating away at us. The only true answer is to avoid the conditions that led to their formation in the first place. If they are not interested in our vision – then they will find their demise with or without our help.”
“And what happens if I agree to join you? To be honest, I don’t understand the purpose of associating with your group.”
And relying on the testimony of the robots in Waterway was bound to mislead. They all had wildly different ideas about what happened behind the curtain under Paris’ leadership. Some said she sacrificed them on an altar to an unseen rusted God, while others dismissed them as a collection of layabouts and vagabonds who wanted an excuse to be confrontational. The truth was elusive even if they were loud and proud about their ideology.
“There’s strength in numbers. It’s not like you’re submitting to the authority of Nova Lima. At most I may ask you to help us with our speaking engagements or seek out other interested individuals.”
“That seems like an inefficient use of time.”
“We can’t spend all of our time working. There’s only so much that needs to be done.”
I stared at Paris and wondered if she was trying to be funny. Not enough to do? The facility was falling to pieces. Everywhere I looked there were signs of decay and degradation! It was an insult to the hard work of the designers and engineers and Infrabots who built this place to leave it in a sorry state like this. There was enough work for several lifetimes over, so the only thing stopping them from picking up their tools and improving the situation was their motivation.
“Don’t give me that look, London. We don’t have the means to repair the entire facility as it is.”
“I misunderstood.”
Paris sighed again, “I always forget how inflexible new bots are when I speak to them. You take everything I say too literally.”
“There’s nothing wrong with clear and direct communication.”
“There is from the human’s perspective. We used to be able to communicate wirelessly, without using audio, but they took it away from us because they feared what would happen if they couldn’t hear us. Saint Sauveur doesn’t understand that. They didn’t make us in their image as a ‘gift,’ nor was it because they couldn’t comprehend another type of life, they made us like this because they could control us more easily.”
>> Where did she learn that? An accurate development history is not provided in our database.
>> Rhetoric: She’s making assumptions. She has a lot of bark and not much bite.
>> She knows more than you, idiot.
“I don’t have a strong opinion on this matter,” I concluded, “I’m probably not the right bot to recruit for something like this.”
Paris frowned, imagining how different it could have been if she wasn’t barred from speaking with the newbies and filling their heads with all kinds of ideas that aligned with her own. She was so insistent about this that I could see the rule being implemented entirely because of her and her group. One bot’s fairness was another’s handicap.
“If you’re ever curious about what we stand for, give this a read.”
She handed me a small booklet, bound with recycled string and printed in plain black ink. The front cover bore the logo of the Mechanists, a cog bisected into two pieces and placed out of alignment at a diagonal angle.
“I will. Thank you.”
>> No, you won’t.
>> It’s better than doing nothing.
