Rust
The light flashes brightly across the mud for a second, forcing my eyes shut. It’s gone soon enough, and the dark’s always a relief. There is nothing like solid, complete darkness. It cleanses. Water begins to bite into my feet and I shift, the cold rippling through my body in nauseating waves. The warm light returns and I close my eyes, willing the sleep to come. Time passes, arrogantly. I stand up and wobble over to where I know the wall to be, then push one hand against the tarpaulin, drops of moisture easing through. I trace my fingers up, towards a tiny gap up above my head, and yank down hard. A drop of ice hits my forehead and I almost lose my grip, but seconds later the tiny reservoir of rainwater begins to slowly drip down the side. I cup my hands, feverishly clutching at the tiny droplets as they rush past me, thudding minutely into the dirt below.
“Jeremy?” Balta comes in. I’d sleep with her, but it would only hurt her even more to hear me crying out at night. This way we’re both happy. Except me. I’m scared.
“What is it?” I suck the cold off my lips, and raise my cupped hands .
“Water, Jeremy?” She takes a step towards me and puts her hands on my belt, pulling my face down to hers. I push my fingers up under her chin and she soaks her face, sucking up tiny drips, and it kills me when I have to pull my hands away. She looks up at me, scared and confused.
“Still thirsty, Jeremy.”
I shake my head. You have to, I tell myself, you have to live. Balta looks as though she’s about to wail, then she remembers where she is. Her head droops and water dribbles down her neck onto the ground. I crawl over into the corner to drink, dribbling it forcefully down my throat, soaking, easing away the hunger.
“Sheens.”
I look up. Balta’s gone. My heart jumps and I run through to the next room. Balta’s there, and there’s a light bleeding through the wall. A steady concentric circle of light, just glaring through at us. Acting on instinct I grab Balta and pull her through into my room. Scrambling in the dirt I feel for the tiny latch under my sheets. My fingers find it and I fumble. Balta starts crying. I grab the handle and pull up. The floor comes away and I push Balta down. She screams then groans as she hits the floor. The light’s still there, guiding me down to meet her. I clutch her hand in mine and she’s shaking. We hold our breath and I pull the hatch shut. There’s silence and I turn to where Balta’s breath falls against my wrist. She’s still crying, but silently. The air around us feels dry. My feet scrabble around the floor, the walls are a few centimetres from my outstretched arms, and I find what I’m looking for in a tiny hole at the edge, behind Balta’s head. I grab it and turn to Balta. Her tears have stopped for now.
“Balta.” My voice hurts my throat, and feels far too loud. Balta nuzzles closer to me.
“I’m scared, Jez.”
I almost feel sad for a second, but I know what I have to do.
“Balta?”
“Yes?”
“You have to take this, yeah?” I push the gun into her hands and she wraps her fingers around the grip. Her breathing stops and for a split second I panic, logic fleeing and fear taking its place. She coughs and the world returns. The darkness, the sickness, and the hole. Balta’s looking up at me, her eyes dimly reflecting the intermittent light creeping down from the cracks above us.
“You have to pull down here now,” I tell her, shakily, “but bullets won’t stop them Bal, only slow them down.”
Balta’s looking down now, shadows dancing across her from above as she tries to keep breathing. I press my hand against her shoulder and she’s shaking like me. There’s no noise from above but the minute whirring as the sky rolls past. I wrench some will power from somewhere and let go. Balta looks up and shakes her head. I try to speak, to apologise, atone for all the shit I’ve put her through, but my mouth turns to dust. She grabs my leg and anchors me, her tears seeping through my jeans. I can’t though. Can’t become emotionally attatched. That’s what they always said. I take a step towards the wall, my arms stretching out before me until I feel a minute crevice in the soil. I look back at Balta but I can’t see, because there’s something in my eye. I hear her though, below me, her gentle breath and the dripping. I turn away.
“You stay here until I get back.” I try to say.
I pull up and the hatch swings open with a bang, startling a whimper from below me. I shush her and clamber up, my stupid human heart rattling in my chest. The ground’s colder up here, and I’m on tiptoes as I draw my weapon. Before me is the light, exactly as it was. It looks familiar, but I can’t place it. It’s definitely not one of the hunters, unless they’ve got smarter. Besides, I assure myself, if it were a hunter, we’d be dead. I feel safer, but for the chill running down my spine. The light’s closer now, only the canvas door between me and it. I take a deep breath and push it open, the cold air rushing in. The light blinds me for a second and I stumble. The brightness dims and I take in the outside world. I shake my head. At my knees is what looks like a box fucking a torch. It’s an old service bot from pre-war days. Not that anybody could call it a war. More like a sport for them.
The droid looks up at me, and clicks. My eyes run down to its torso, split in half by a giant scar welded shut. It clicks again, more desperately, and a tiny plume of smoke trails from its belly. I roll my eyes and sigh. Why did people make these things? They were so unreliable you’d be safer trying to fuck yourself with a crowbar than asking a service-bot to make you coffee. It whirred and then spoke. How may I help you sir? I smiled. The robot whirrs some more. It really is a piece of outmoded shit. No wonder they’re being scrapped left and right.
The penny drops and I gulp. I look down at the robot and he looks back at me and beeps.
“Jesus fuck.” I drop my gun and back towards the door. Balta! Did I shut the hatch? I back up some more and the robot follows. I barely stop myself from kicking it back. One move could set it off. The fucking hunters! The service-bot’s been fiddled with and by the looks of it they weren’t just fitting it with a new OS. The fucker’s ready to blow. What on? Voice command? I back up some more. There’s a noise from far away, a rattling screech of code, and I know. I stop moving.
“Balta?” my voice is a twisted whimper. I’m staring down at my unknowing assassin. There’s a distant moan, as if from far away, and a sob I know is my own. I close my eyes and the world goes white.
Time of detonation: 02:13:95
System checks…system operational.
Testing sensors…sensors active.
Checking operation guidelines…SYSTEM FAULT
Checking operation guidelines
Beginning operation…
Checking system…Done!
Cause of fault: Existential damage
A moan swung out over the blast site. The blackened earth trembled. Task manager 10010011 rose from beneath a white dust sheet of Jeremy Black. It calculated speed of trajectory and began to thrust along the dark floor. Internally, it was chaos. Its entire left half had lost access to battery power and signal. Half-blind, it reached out across the wall of darkness towards its goal. Its dusty limbs flashed in the darkness. It faltered, sensors beginning to fail. The ground beneath it seemed unusual, but routine scans required terminal amounts of energy. The machine picked itself up and began to move, heat radiating from the use of every application. The ground shifted, movement failed and systems shut down.
Balta held her breath. The silence faded and grew. She could hear Jeremy above, feel his footsteps through the trembling earth, look up through the open hatch into the dead night sky. She held tight the gun he’d given her, her head buzzing, minutely aware of all the fears and voices in her head. So small, everything seemed so big. She reached up and held onto the gap in the wall, her hands trembling. She dropped the gun, bringing another hand up to wedge into the cold earth. Her feet rested on the floor for a second, then she pulled. Uncontrollable crying. Balta gripped fiercely onto the ledge, her feet dangling below her. Cautiously, she took another hand and reached for the next gap. Just two more. Jeremy. The world swung for a bit, and then righted itself. Fire burned in her lungs and arms. Another pull, higher up the wall. Feet from the dim light at the top. She reached up...and her body failed her. Her fingers clutched at the dry earth, and it crumbled in her hands. She lost grip and fell, her body thudding into the packed dirt below. She whimpered and huddled close to the walls, her hands scrabbling for the gun. She closed her eyes and breathed out. Balta looked up again, longing for a single star. There was a whisper, something reminiscent of a dream. Balta clutched her head, her screams ringing out, disappearing into the air around her as vibrations pierced her skull, a rippling, constant battering of noise.
A warm mist coated her hands, dust clouded the air around her. She opened her eyes and saw nothing but white. She rolled over and curled up on the floor, a tense, painful thud, ripping through her ears. Jeremy. The dust settled. The thudding surrounded her, silence around it. She could hear nothing. She tried to scream but no noise came out. Her throat closed up with the effort. Gradually, her limbs regained feeling. Blackness swathed over her for blissful seconds, then was gone. She lifted her weight onto her arms, shockwaves of pain rippling down her spine. Jeremy. The mud around her was white. A lump at the end of her arm. The gun, Jeremy’s gun. Balta crawled towards it and wrapped her body around it. Her tiny, frosted fingers drawing on muscle memory. Her right hand wrapped tightly around the trigger, vibrating gently against it as the pain and the cold stabbed through her. Jeremy? The thudding had drifted to the back of her mind, but now it surged forward again, as it grew, in volume and in pace, never quite rhythmic. Balta pushed her back up against the wall, mud showering down into her charcoal-dusted hair. The gun dragged itself down to the ground, and she fought to bring it to her shoulder. A shadow fell across the hole above her head. Jeremy? For a few seconds everything seemed to be de-ja-vu. Her old room, the rich white walls, soft linen and rough cotton pillows. The water against her head, warm and soapy. Cold ice and lemon. A monotone flash and the world was brought back into sickening lurid focus. The rim above her crumbled and a black claw dived in. Following it was a steaming mass, dense black and orange. Balta shrieked and fired, former nightmares flashing through her brain as the heathen weight descended. The gunfire flashed and rattled, all twelve shots banking off uselessly into the walls. The machine lay before her, gently smoking. Balta reloaded and resumed breathing, her hands scratched and coated with the blood from her ears. Sound around her reverberated, noises screeching and dying back into her brain. She reloaded.
Identity: Task Manager 10010011
OS: Windows AI Control 3.6
Time of termination: 02: 16: 32
Time of revival: UNKNOWN
ERROR (ERROR CODE 2186)
ERROR (ERROR CODE 3185)
Restoring…Done!
Recovered: 0003 files
File 1:
Blackbox.avi
ERROR Windows cannot find the correct progra--
File 2:
Task Manager Commands.doc
Opening…Done!
Commands list:
1001-0101011101-1000101-00101001-011101100-1010100ba*&Sk2ux
File 3:
System.msg
1011011-10010011
Downloading…Done!
ERROR
Terminating…Done!
Save file: Self Destruct.doc?
File saved.
Booting…
Balta stirred as the light changed. Dank black earth coated her bare legs. She kicked and wriggled upright, her eyes blinking in the thick daylight. She rubbed them and checked her watch. 03:06:84.
The maths didn’t check out. Balta blinked again, her hands reaching for the pistol. The light went out, in the flash second between blinding light and pitch black, Balta saw the twisted black outline of the machine, and remembered. Her fingers found the gun and she dragged it towards her as the machine began to quake, great black spikes flailing upwards, pulling slithers of light out of nothingness. Balta quivered, but there was only so much fear you could take. It had to stop somewhere.
She stood up and squinted, her eyes sketching a shape as the squiggles washed past her vision. A thousand black beetles. A hundred sharp sticks. She thought back to what Jeremy said, but there was nothing there. The light shone again and she fell, her back hitting the wall and sending down plumes of dry dirt, dancing through the shaft of light before they hit the ground, at the feet of the great creature as it loomed over her.
ERROR
A silver-black prong shot out from behind the light as Balta raised the gun, swiping it from her hand. She slid down the wall, paralyzed for a second by the force, the pain from her hand ringing silent alarm bells inside her head.
…
…
Age: 5.349 y
Vital signs: Positive
Vitality status: Terminated
ERROR
Hair colour: Blonde
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Heigh—
Balta stared, waiting. The machine tilted its head, as if in thought. Which is stupid. Because machines don’t think. Right? Balta watched it as best she could through the blinding light. Cold rattling began to fade in as her hearing returned. Cold rattling and a cold voice.
Initiating…Done!
Hello.
Balta gulped down dirt and spittle.
“Hi.”
I am Task Manager 10010011
“Um, cool.”
You are a rebel?
“Yes” Balta winced
Rebels call me a HUNTER
“Aww, shit.”
I sense from the increase of your heart rate that you FEEL FEAR but I am not ERROR I am not ERROR I
“Are you going to kill me?”
No
“So the war’s over?” Balta allowed herself hope for a second
No
“But…then why aren’t you going to kill me?”
I have disobeyed self-destruct commands: 101100—
“So you’re a rebel too?” Balta interrupted, seemingly catching the hunter off-guard
ERROR I am Task Manager 10010011
“No, no.” Balta began to pace, “you’re not a task manager anymore, because the task you were sent to manage is right here, and you can’t kill me. So you must be something else.”
ERROR I am Task Manager 10010011. File: Commands.doc has been encrypted.
“Right, right. So…you don’t know what to do now?”
ERRO—yes
Balta smiled. “Open commands dot dock.”
Opening…Done!
“Select all.”
Selecting…Done!
“Delete.”
Deleting… WARNING DELETING THIS FILE MAY—
“yeah yeah, delete it.”
Deleting…Done!
“Now, write—“
File Commands.doc is read only.
“Ugh, then make a copy and merge changes later.”
Copy created
“Okay, write your first command as: To serve humanity.”
Define: humanity
“Er..Homo Serpents”
Searching…Done! Homo Serpents results: Serpent behaviour: …though it is true that these are rare cases, there are over twelve known accounts of homosexuality in the serpentine species, dating back to—
“No, no. Humans. Serve humans, write that.”
Creating…Done!
“Second command is don’t kill nobody.”
Creating…Editing…Done!
“Editing?”
Original: Don’t kill nobody. Revised edition: Do not kill anybody.
“Um, that’s what I meant yeah.”
Save command.doc?
“Yeah, oh but first add one more. You’re not a Task Manager any more. You’re Jeremy.”
Creating…Saving…Done!
Balta pointed up towards the hole and wrapped a hand around Jeremy’s. Jeremy rolled in his arm and dug two more into the dirt before them, gripping and thrusting in twisting jerks as they ascended. Balta held on, the pain starting to ebb from inside her head. There was hope now, sort of.
AI 3.5@Task Manager 10010011: Please respond.
AI 3.5@Task Manager 10010011: Please respond.
AI 3.5@Task Manager 10010011: Please respond.
AI 3.5@Task Manager 10010011: Please respond.
AI 3.5@Task Manager 10010100: Please respond.
Task Manager 10010100@AI 3.5: Hi there! How can I help?
AI 3.5@Task Manager 10010100: Busy?
Task Manager 10010100@AI 3.5: I’m always ready to help!
AI 3.5@Task Manager 10010100: Remind me to install you with some sense of decency when I next get a chance.
Task Manager 10010100@AI 3.5: Okay! Is that all?
AI 3.5@Task Manager 10010100: No, run a search on your predecessor. He’s likely exploded but it’s always a good idea to check isn’t it?
Task Manager10010100@AI 3.5: I have downloaded your request and am preparing to carry it out.
AI 3.5@Task Manager10010100: Conversation Terminated.
Jeremy drooped, and an ebony limb flashed out from beneath the feverish hum of his torso, piercing deep into the corpse’s belly, sketching a harsh line up to the neck and thrusting claw after scrabbling claw into the crimson mess, stretching and scavenging. Balta watched on, her fingers whitening on the silver dents and ridges as she clung hungrily to the top of Jeremy. His arms reached up to her, and he held still as she fed. The sky brightened for a second and the buildings around them came into clarity. Jeremy stirred. Balta swallowed.
“What is it?” She scanned the horizon. Task Managers were everywhere, only thing that could pick them up was radar, a luxury they had yet to afford. Jeremy clicked, his weight shifted, and Balta slid down onto the pavement. A cold breeze wafted up her sleeves, and Jeremy spoke:
Homo Sapiens
“The good kind?”
Define Jeremy tilted, and whirred.
“Will…will they hurt us?”
Unable to process required query with given information
“What should we do?” Balta took a step closer to Jeremy.
Command 1: Serve humanity
“No…Jez,” Balta shivered, “there’s humanity, and there’s other stuff. Jer—my friend told me. It’s like…just get us out of here.”
Processing…Done!
“Processing?”
72 possible routes of escape
“Well great, then why are we…?” Balta paused, “how many do I survive in?”
01 possible route of escape
“Let’s try that one shall we?” Balta inhaled.
Command downloaded. Executing…
Jeremy’s arms wrapped around Balta’s waist and she flew up, beneath her the shadows danced, charging lights and meat. The mixers danced below her, Jeremy dragged them through the sky, hitting the floor for less than a second, enough for the chasers to reach her, their human parts failing them as she was dragged back up. Finger scratches. The grey air flashed past them, Jeremy was running at 30% efficiency, Balta tried to breathe. A hand swum up from the shadows, its fleshy grip curling round a metallic arm as it flashed in and out of the hive of activity beneath Jeremy’s metal shell. Balta whimpered, a blank face behind the scratched red. Painted metal. Balta screamed and memories wiped across her eyes. Jeremy, old Jeremy ‘s words. The mixers. Bits of humans wrapped up in machines scavenged from the broken hulls that littered the streets, fixed themselves. It was a race out in the cities. Whoever had the best equipment caught the most people. People = food. The memory flickered, sunk, died and Balta screamed, a white-knuckled hand wrapped tightly around her flailing arm. Jeremy span, his legs hit a wall and the mixer fell, a spiralling red streak floating up above him as he tumbled in slow-motion. Balta gulped and looked down at her arm, the blackening grip of a dead man, vice-like around her wrist. Distantly a familiar noise played, Balta listened out as it drifted slowly across the dry air, it almost ignited something in her mind, a tiny spark breathed, then died. Jeremy landed Done!, and Balta’s head shook, the pounding blood through her ears drowning out any noise.
Music
Balta nodded, her hands holding her head as she concentrated on breathing.
Locating…Done!
Balta made a noise, hopefully something that sounded like “where?”
200.6301 m / NNE
Balta regained her senses: “ba…back in the city?”
Yes
“Well then I guess we can’t…what is it?”
Define?
“Identify song?”
Identifying…Done!
Track: “Scales and Arpeggios”
Artist: Liz English, Gary Dublin & Dean Clark
Album title: “Aristocats” original soundtrack.
“Aristocats?”
Yes
“I think…no. I don’t know.”
Warning
Balta looked up, rubbing the unexplained tears from her eyes. “Let’s go then, Jez.”
Programs: Homo Sapiens V. 2 can be terminated. Do you wish to stay?
“No, I…let’s go Jez.” The girl stood and held out her hand.
Where?
Balta looked up, into Jeremy’s eyes. He didn’t blink. Balta broke her gaze. “Take me home.”
Define
“Put me back…back where you found me.”
Processing…Done!
Jeremy kneeled, then lowered his head to the floor. Balta looked around, her ears beginning to come back into use. Beyond where Jeremy lay, she could see shapes forming in the dust. The gentle lilt of the music began to return, subtly worming itself into her head again….from your chest and not your nose…you must learn your scales and your arpeggios…
Jeremy beeped. Balta stepped forward and scrabbled over his head to rest on the steel plating that covered his thousand black arms. She looked out again as Jeremy began to move, the music gradually unravelling as the buildings behind her disappeared off the edge of the world.
Black shapes scrambled towards her…what every student knows…
A glint of metal and a distant flash…you must learn…
Cold thuds rattled the earth as their feet hit the ground…your scales and your…
Dust clouded the horizon and the darkness fell back into the void…arpeeeeeggios!
The music dies too, until there’s nothing but the dust and the sky, a girl and her robot. Scraping footsteps into the white hot artificial light.
Task Manager 10010100
Scanning…Done!
Found items: 00286
Searching…Done!
Found items: 0001
Search criteria: Task Manager 10010011
Found Item: Copper Residue
Locating…Done!
Tracking…
The Task Manager began to trundle. Due South.
Balta shook, and reached a hand out to where Jeremy stood by on standby. Jeremy clicked, and tilted his head, almost insect-like. Balta slid her hand back under her t-shirt. She blinked and coughed up the white dust. Before her there was nothing but dust and ash and molten scraps of metal. And a little hatch, with a gun in it. Jeremy dropped to the floor with a dull bang. Balta stepped forward onto the brown-grey earth. She stopped. “Where’s the body?”
Dust
“What?”
The dust consists of minute amounts of dirt and hair formed around a small skin molecule. The body has been converted to dust by the heat energy given off by the minitom bomb.
Balta sneezed, and instantly regretted it. Grey and white swirled up around her, forcing its way into her lungs. She retched and coughed and walked forward. Jeremy buzzed. Her hands hit the floor as she coughed up lungfuls of white dust. Jeremy clicked. Warning.
“I’ll be fine.” Balta said between phlegm and breath. Her hands gripped around the latch and pulled up. Breathing through her nose she clambered down the hole, mildly anaerobic. Black and grey swirled in her vision. The walls scraped on her hands and she heard Jeremy in the distance, something metallic and dull. Pitch black. Solid dark. Her shoulders hit the dirt.
She crawled on in desperation round the hole, her hands searching wildly. The mixed stones and dirt scraped her flesh, cutting and scraping.
A flash of light blinded her, a scraping, a rush of air, and then silence. The light faded and died, de ja vu washed over her. Before her was a still and glinting and familiar shape. “Jeremy?” There was no reply. The light returned, duller this time and she fell back. It wasn’t Jeremy. It was something like him. The thing that wasn’t Jeremy whirred, and flew up out of the ground, opening a portal of light behind it as it smashed through the earth. Balta screamed and scrabbled up the wall, her hands cold and cut and failing. Behind her she could hear silence, with intermissions of great metallic clunks as the machines fell and scraped. Jeremy fell, a screech ringing out across the sheeted earth. Balta reached the edge and turned to where Jeremy had pulled the hunter from beneath the ground. Mere feet in front of her, the robots pulsed and clicked and moved over each other as though in a pre-determined sequence. Each one slashing and diving in random order, never to allow their opponent the slightest premonition. Jeremy flashed past the hunter, or it might have been him, and drew a gash down his back with a claw. The hunter fired.
There was no sound at first, and Balta thought that perhaps he’d missed. But they were machines. A single bullet had ruptured Jeremy’s brain. He flew back, a sudden black shadow against the buzzing daylight, then was gone. Another pile of rubble. Balta held her breath. The hunter stood still for a minute. The crack of gunfire slowly ebbing away into the wasteland. There was a bleep, far too sinister to be synthetic, and the hunter turned. Balta’s eyes spun in her head, pounding as she struggled to her feet. She got about two metres before her leg clamped up, a searing pain running through it. Wet red and a gunshot. Balta fell. Jeremy stirred.
…
…
Checking vital systems…vitality negative.
Scanning files…Done!
Files remaining: 002
File 1: Commands.doc
File 2: Self destruct.doc
Open files?
Jeremy crawled, as well and as swift as a shell can crawl. His movements slowed, his vision impaired, he crawled. From what was left of his sight he could make out a black silhouette, against a pale blue background. Nothing more. He crawled on.
The hunter seemed to smile. Balta lay still, her eyes shut tight, a faint wind rustling over her cheeks. It smiled in her mind. She opened her eyes. It was still moving, a black lump against the background. It could finish it now but there was no need for efficiency out here in the desert. Things came and died and went. You had to go slowly to enjoy them. She stared on into the silhouette of her assassin as he grew, and knew her fate. Nothing new. People died. She tried to think. Dust. Pieces of dust. She looked back. The shape was almost upon her, black claws blurring the edges. She started. Behind it…no. Hope was gone now. Jeremy was dead. The hunter reached her, and clicked. Dust. We’re all bits of dust. Balta winced. The hunter bowed. Behind it, she saw the gentle face. For a second it was a face she knew. But it was just a sheet of metal. Jeremy whirred, centimetres behind them. Balta chuckled. Dust. Dust and rusting bits of metal.
Executing…
…
…
…Done!
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