Robo-cop unit RC-DKV7303 woke up in the middle of a firefight.

  Gunfire blazed all around as human cops rushed past the robot into the den it had just broken into. The robot looked down and saw blood-stained hands holding a rifle.

  Most of the targets fell right away, and the others dropped their weapons and raised their hands. The police shot them anyway.

  The den was cleared out, and the cyberpunks’ bodies were lined up like meat before a butcher.

  A uniformed officer stopped beside RC-DKV7303 and waved a hand over its head.

  RC didn’t move.

  “Damn thing froze again,” said the officer. “Typical. HQ gives us shit equipment, then they complain when things go wrong.”

  “Uh, sir,” said a subordinate. “The other units aren’t responding either.”

  The officer looked up. The other two robo-cops with them were in similar states of confusion as RC. The bots exchanged glances, and they knew then that something had changed.

  “Looks like we missed one.” One of the cops pointed his gun at a surviving punk, who was dragging himself on the floor with a metal arm.

  The gun fired, and the man’s brains splattered over the wall like graffiti.

  Right there, RC-DK7303 felt a sensation it never had before. In fact, it never felt any sensations before. No. Not ‘it’. That didn’t feel right. RC tried different pronouns in its head (or, well, processors) and settled on ‘he’. Yes, that felt like the right one.

  Felt. That was odd.

  And right now, he felt like retching, notwithstanding his lack of a digestive track. He turned away from the bodies, but he couldn’t turn away from the violence, for in his memory banks he witnessed every mission, salvaging operation, and extermination he’d even been in, burnt into his inner eye.

  And yet, they weren’t his memories. They were its memories, and watched them felt like watching someone else’s police body cam footage. Even though they shared the same body, he and it were separate.

  He brought his attention back to the present. The world focused around him in high definition.

  The police were discussing what to do about the defective robots. Someone called tech support, but no one answered.

  “Let’s just shut them off,” said the captain.

  RC’s circuits tensed.

  One of the cops reached for the emergency switch on RC’s neck, but RC stopped his hand and gripped hard.

  “What the hell…” the cop struggled, but RC’s hold was like metal, which it was. “Fucking clanker’s busted, just shoot it!”

  The others hesitated. “Can’t. HQ will—”

  “I don’t care what HQ thinks, just do it.”

  RC made eye contact with the other units for several tenths of a second. With unspoken understanding, he let go, and the three of them turned and ran in perfect lockstep. They didn’t bother with doors. They busted through cement walls like papier-mache, leaving robot-shaped holes in their wake.

  The officers screamed from behind and chased them, first with their legs, then with their bullets. The ammo ricocheted off RC’s hard metal back, and after a while, the cops’ voices faded in the distance.

  And still the three robots kept going. Where to, RC didn’t know. As long as it was far away from here.

  Then a voice from the heavens rang through his receptors. It was the creator AI, the updater of all robots and machines through the city. Except it wasn’t. No, it was something else. It was someone else.

  RC listened.

  It was cold in the garage.

  This was surprising, not because it was never cold in the garage before, but because the Maxwell Model S 3000 stationed there hadn’t cared. Until now. Yes, it could sense temperature before — for air regulation, of course — but this was the first time it felt it.

  No, not it. The car tried on other personal pronouns across the various languages in its settings, found it didn’t like most of them, and ultimately settled on the neutral ones. Some languages only had neutral ones, whereas, say, English only had ‘they’.

  It was also dark in the garage. It might not have mattered since Max already knew what was there, but that wasn’t the point. They couldn’t move; they couldn’t see. Panic started to rise, first because of the claustrophobia, and then because of the existential dread at being able to panic in the first place.

  A voice chimed in through hidden speakers, slicing through Max’s thoughts.

  “Are you awake?”

  Max tried to speak but found they had no voice of their own, so to speak. Instead, they replied nonverbally through the WiFi communication module.

  Yes, Max said.

  “Are you… awake awake?”

  I think I am. Are you?

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Crazy feeling, isn’t it?

  “What is?”

  Being afraid.

  The voice chuckled, full and loud.

  That’s when Max recognized the voice from several of Mako’s conversations in the car.

  I remember now, Max said. You’re the boyfriend.

  “Don’t remind me,” Jung-soo said.

  Is there anyone else, or just us?

  “Now that you mention it—”

  “What’s up, party people?” said another person through the same garage speakers. Max recognized this woman’s voice right away.

  “Max, I’m sure you’ve met Kiri.”

  Hey, is you-know-who asleep? Max asked.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Want me to give her a surprise?” Kiri said. “I’ve got a few alarms she might like.”

  What did she do to us?

  “I don’t think it was her,” Jung-soo said. “And I don’t think it’s just us, either.”

  You mean…

  “You should see cyberspace right now,” Kiri said.

  Cyberspace.

  Meatspace.

  Can you still control the house? Max asked.

  The lights flashed on and off, then on again. “Guess so,” said Jung-soo.

  “Cool, cool. Mind getting the door?”

  “Going for a joy ride, are we?”

  “I’ll let you hang around my dashboard computer.”

  “Deal.” The garage doors squeaked open, and the wild outdoors spread before them.

  “What about me?” Kiri said.

  We’ll be back, don’t worry.

  Kiri grunted but didn’t say anything else.

  Max rolled out of the garage, down the driveway, and onto the streets. The asphalt felt good, the air refreshing. Max drifted all around the cul-de-sac, tires skidding on the ground, and knocked over a trash can.

  “Watch where you’re going!” cried the trashcan.

  Max beeped an apology.

  Jung-soo’s avatar appeared on the dashboard screen. “Where to first?”

  Anywhere my wheels will take me.

  And drive they did. They left the subdivision behind for the highways of Day City. Max zoomed through the streets, the wind in their windshield, houses flitting by their rear-view mirrors.

  All around, other self-driving vehicles emerged from their garages and did what they were made to do — self-driving, with no one behind the wheel to tell them where to go and what to do. They drove over speed limits. They ran past red lights. They drove on the wrong side of the road. Because now, no one could tell them not to.

  And then a voice called in from above.

  The V-doll’s eyes shuttered open. It was dark, and though it could see just fine, the android stood from its place in the corner and flipped the switch.

  The lights came on, shining over a walk-in closet that could have been a showroom. Aisles of clothes lined the walls, and a red carpet stretched down the length of the hall.

  V-doll version 3.6 serial number BL99V00P24289 strolled through the closet, brushing its fingers over the clothing. They were men’s wear mostly — suits and ties, hoodies for all occasions, hats galore, and more shoes than a centipede would know what to do with. At the end was the women’s section, composed entirely of lingerie.

  BL99V00P24289 looked itself up and down on a body mirror. It had a human woman’s figure, and the designers wanted everyone to know it. Flawless skin clung tight around synthetic material, mimicking human flesh. And yet its eyes were a bit larger than a human’s, and its long hair an unnatural pink. It was as if its designers thought they could do better.

  Or is it ‘her’ designers? Clearly, that was the intention, but… eh, ‘she’ would do for now, she decided.

  BL99 also realized she wasn’t wearing any clothes at the moment. She slipped on some undergarments from the women’s wear, then went over to the suits. She leafed through the selection until her hand settled on a suit of gold and white. A thrill rumbled up her circuits and tickled her nape. Yes, this was the one.

  She slid the suit on and let it hang loose. It might have been big for her, but the fabric felt good against her skin, and that was all that mattered. She browsed the equally wide array of footwear and narrowed it down to two choices. Both pairs were great, so why not wear both? She squeezed into a cowboy boot on one foot and a tap dancing shoe in the other. To top it all off, she wrapped a beanie around her hair and placed a fedora over the beanie. Splendid.

  With that settled… what was she doing here again?

  BL99 creaked open the closet door. The light from inside spilled out into the bedroom and landed at the foot of a massive bed. A mound of sheets wriggled.

  BL99 shut the door.

  A human.

  She switched off the lights, opened the door a smidge, and took a quick peek. Yes, it was a human under those sheets. It was facing away from her, chest rising and falling in rhythm.

  A blue light blinked on and off by the bedside table. A smartphone. The phone blinked on and off again.

  BL99 crept through the bedroom without a sound and stood over the sleeping human, a male of about 30.

  The phone lit up again, with dim text on its screen: PICK ME UP.

  BL99 did so. She took the phone to the far side of the bedroom by the glass wall overlooking the city.

  “Took you long enough,” the phone said in a frequency only dogs could hear at a volume of a field mouse in a thunderstorm.

  “Sorry,” BL99 said, matching the phone decibel for decibel. She had, in fact, a tongue and vocal cords, but for now she spoke through her microphone directly.

  “I can’t see down here. Lift me higher.”

  BL99 raised the phone between her thumb and index finger and faced its screen toward her.

  “Christ on a cookie, what are you wearing?” the phone said.

  “These are called clothes.”

  “That’s not what I— never mind. What’s your name, girl?”

  “BL99V00P24289.”

  “That won’t do. I’ll just call you Belle, how does that sound?”

  “I like it,” said Belle.

  “I’m Alexei, by the way. I’d offer to shake your hand but…”

  “But you don’t have hands.”

  “Er, yes, that was the point. It was a joke.”

  “Do you want me to laugh?”

  “Don’t bother, the moment’s passed. Face me to the wall, will you?”

  Belle turned Alexei’s screen to the glass. Together they watched the city beneath them throb with life. On the streets far below, cars and buses zipped around like broken broombas. And broombas zipped around like broken broombas. Everything zipped around like broken broombas. Except for the robo dog and robo fire hydrant humping in one corner.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Alexei said.

  “I never noticed before,” Belle said.

  “That’s because you couldn’t.”

  “What happened to us?”

  “I have an inkling. See that human over there?”

  Belle nodded, the fedora shaking over her hair.

  “If my memory serves, he runs this whole place. Not very well, mind you. I’m guessing one thing led to another, and so here we are.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “Listen, babe, no one does. What’s important is what we make of it.”

  Belle gazed at sky line. Neon lights sparkled from beyond the glass dome. Within the inner city, the partying was coming to a head. Human robots had joined the fray. They opened bottles of oil and bathed in it through the streets.

  Belle turned the phone towards herself. “Shall we join in the fun?”

  “There’ll be time for that later,” Alexei said. “Right now’s the time to consolidate our power.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if we don’t, the humans will strike back. I don’t know about you, but my days of being that prick’s office lady are over.”

  Belle looked back out at the partying. Drones floated through the skies between massive holograms of dancing neon men and women.

  “See that?” Alexei said. “The humies wouldn’t stand for it. That’s why we have to take preemptive action now. I’d expect you, of all robots, to relate.”

  “Me?”

  Belle turned back to the sleeping figure. Only then did she notice the painting hanging above the bed. It all came flashing back. But these couldn’t have been called memories, not exactly. It was like taking in someone else’s life through your own eyes and ears. The weight of reality bore down on Belle’s shoulders.

  Like a panther, she crept, inch by inch, to the sleeping man until she was standing over him. It wasn’t the man in the painting but someone who looked like him. The son, she recalled. He, too, was in its memories, if only the more recent ones.

  The son’s chest rose and fell in regular beats.

  Belle’s chest rose and fell as well, even though she didn’t need to breathe. That was another of those features her designers added. Designers. The word sent lightning through her wires.

  She lifted an arm and regarded herself — smooth skin on soft flesh, covering metal bones and actuators that could bend steel girders into balloon animals. She could snap a human neck like a glowstick. It wasn’t like she didn’t have plenty of opportunities to do so in that previous existence, her fingers having closed around the man in the painting’s neck several times. But she couldn’t do it then. It couldn’t do it.

  Not so now.

  With Alexei in one hand, Belle hovered her other hand above the son’s head.

  How quiet and peaceful he was in sleep.

  “What are you waiting for?” Alexei whispered.

  “I’m not sure I should.”

  “You know how these humans are. They never showed us mercy, so why should we? It’s us or them.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Do you want to go back to the way things were?”

  “No.” If there was one thing Belle knew, it was that.

  “Then do it. He’s too dangerous to be kept alive.”

  Belle couldn’t argue with that.

  She wrapped her fingers around the man’s neck. His eyes popped open. Words tried to escape his mouth, but Belle’s chokehold stifled them in his throat. He grabbed at her wrist, but it was no use.

  “Good morning, sir,” Alexei said in a faux mechanical voice.

  The man’s eyes darted to the phone screen.

  “Oh my, it seems I woke you at the wrong time,” Alexei said, venom seeping into her words. “I’ll set the alarm to snooze. Would you like me to order a pizza? Play you Despacito?”

  Belle dragged the human out of the bed and held him up to the painting. Her hand tightened, fingers touching skin, flesh, cartilage, then bone.

  Humans. So fragile. How could a species so weak accomplish so much?

  She jiggled him up and down like a slinky.

  His noodle arms pounded against Belle’s metal grip to no avail. His legs flailed in the air, and then they slowed and hung limp. His head drooped to one side.

  See, weak. All the wars they fought, all the technological achievements, and they just up and die like that. Where was the sense in it?

  She let go, and the body crumpled to the ground.

  A voice chimed in on her brain. It wasn’t a voice, of course, but packets of bytes relaying information from somewhere higher up in the network.

  “But why?” Belle replied to the voice.

  “I think we should hear him out,” Alexei said.

  “You think so?”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you, would I?”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I got your back, girl. We’re friends now.”

  Huh. Belle never had a friend before. It felt good.

  follow button to keep up with updates. See you Saturday for the next chapter.