David Gatewood - The Robot Chronicles

“I know it’s not about him,” Dr. Hawthorne said. “Besides, I got over you a long time ago. Just promise me you’ll be safe over there.”

Shelly drew a breath, and Peter feared she was about to launch into it with him. But she simply said, “Thank you, Peter.”

He sensed the end was near. His bed waited for him upstairs.

“And please,” she said. “Think about what I said. About what you’re doing. Those robots deserve—”

“Nope, we’re done.” Peter held the phone away from his ear for a moment before he hung it up. It made a depressing click, piercing the fresh silence of the observation room.

The quiet suited him. He was through listening to Shelly’s moralizing speeches. She’d become soft, a bleeding heart. He couldn’t understand her anymore. Whatever spark used to exist between them had long since been extinguished, as if by a cold New England rain.

Peter glanced over at Andrew, wondering if he should pop into the Dreamscape and see what he was up to. But his eyes were drooping, and he needed sleep. He’d watch the replays in the morning, instead.

He wanted to be well rested, for tomorrow was going to be a big day for his little robot friend.

Some time later, after discovering that Angel did, in fact, have all her parts, Andrew heard a chime. Angel and the cabin evaporated from around him, and he was left staring at the white tiled floor of his habitation chamber. Dr. Hawthorne was waiting in the observation room.

“Hello, Andrew. Good to see you all charged up. I trust you had a pleasant night?”

Andrew moved to the center of the room. “Yes, I feel much better today, Doctor. But there is one issue I would like to discuss with you.”

“All in good time, Andrew,” Dr. Hawthorne said. “I want to introduce you to someone very special.”

“I’ve already—”

Andrew heard a grinding sound. He turned to see that the glass wall between his and Angel’s room was rising.

“Let’s wake her up, shall we?” Doctor Hawthorne moved over to a set of controls.

“Yes, but there’s something I’d like to ask before she wakes up.”

Hawthorne grinned. “Nonsense. There’s no time to waste, Andrew.”

“But Doctor, I insist .”

Angel’s charging station chimed, and her eyes glowed blue.

“Andrew!” She wheeled over to his side of the room, no longer impeded by the glass wall. “Long time no see.”

“Good morning, Angel,” Dr. Hawthorne said. “So nice to see you.”

“You too, Doctor.”

Dr. Hawthorne turned toward Andrew. “Now, Andrew, what was it you wanted to discuss with me?”

“It’s a rather delicate matter,” Andrew said. “I’d rather not discuss it in front of… the ladies.”

“Now when did you AIs become so bashful? You’re too human, sometimes, if you ask me. Go on, Andrew. No one is judging you.”

“I thought that’s exactly what you were doing,” Andrew replied.

The doctor nodded slightly. “Touché. Now spill the beans.”

“Well…” Andrew looked over at Angel, who was gazing around his spacious room.

“Actually,” Andrew finally said. “There is something. Angel and I want to go outside. We want to see the world with our own eyes.”

Doctor Hawthorne gave a hearty laugh. “That was your big question? Why didn’t you just say so? But honestly, you don’t want to go outside. There’s nothing but fog and drizzle out there today, I’m afraid. Perhaps another time.”

“Oh, Doctor,” Angel pleaded, wheeling up to the glass. “Can’t we just take a peek? I’ve never seen real rain before.”

“I’m sorry, Angel, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. Your unit is old, and it’s a long way down the hall to the exit. I’d rather not risk it.”

Andrew looked Angel’s unit up and down. Although it was run-down, it seemed to be in adequate working condition.

“I’ll watch out for her, Doctor,” he said. “We’ll just take a look outside, and then come right back.”

Dr. Hawthorne sighed and placed his cup on the desk. “Very well. But for the record, this makes me slightly nervous.”

“We’ll be okay,” Angel said. “Won’t we, Andrew?”

“Yes, of course we will.”

The door at the far end of Angel’s room opened into a wide, gray hallway. Pipes ran along the ceiling, and the temperature gauge on Andrew’s unit read six degrees Celsius.

Angel gave an excited trill and zoomed toward a set of double doors at the far end of the hall, over two hundred meters away. One of her treads hit a bump on the floor, and her unit thumped up and down. A spark zipped out from between her gears.

“Angel, slow down,” Andrew called out. “There’s something wrong with your unit.”

“It’s fine, Andrew. The door isn’t much farther.” Another splash of sparks exploded from beneath her.

Andrew looked around frantically. “Where’s Doctor Hawthorne?”

“Oh, who cares?” Angel said. “He probably doesn’t want to get wet.” She was still ahead of him, but he was gaining on her.

“Angel, I can smell something. Will you stop for a second?” His olfactory sensors were going haywire, and his vision was getting hazy. Was that smoke? His sensor readings indicated that high amounts of petroleum gas were concentrated in the air just ahead.

“Wait!” Andrew cried.

But Angel didn’t stop. As she raced ahead, she turned her head to look back at Andrew, her eyes glowing with excitement. “I’m almost there!”

Before Andrew could reply, her unit kicked out another spark—and an eruption of smoke, ash, and fire exploded through the hallway, washing over Andrew and dancing up the walls and ceiling. Temperature warnings screamed out, both in his unit and in the hallway. The fire blazed brightly, and Angel’s unit was consumed.

As Andrew looked on helplessly, a buzzing alarm sounded, and the ventilation system kicked in. It sucked the oxygen out of the hallway, depriving the fire of its fuel source, extinguishing the flames, and clearing away the smoke and ash.

Andrew didn’t want to look, but he did.

Angel’s unit stood upright in the middle of the scorched section of hall. Her metal body had popped open from the heat, and the wires inside were sparking. Her head casing was warped, her eye sockets dark and lifeless.

The last of the fire lingered on in the heart of her for a while longer, and then even that was gone.

Andrew wheeled toward the charred unit.

What had happened? Why had he smelled petroleum just before the accident? Where was the doctor?

He wheeled backward, then forward again.

“Doctor Hawthorne?” he said aloud. “We are in desperate need of assistance.”

Andrew trudged over loose stones and gravel, keeping to the edge of the cliff. He wore clothes now, and didn’t remember when that had changed. He walked with the ocean to his left, and every so often he gave testing glances at the surging water below. It was a long way down, and he didn’t know what the death protocol was for the Dreamscape program. The manual said nothing about it.

Andrew kept walking. Dark clouds hung in the sky. In fact, they appeared to be gathering over the water, and they blocked out much of the sunlight. As the wind picked up, Andrew was glad for his woollen shirt and long pants. He felt less connected to the land that way, more secure.

The cabin came into view. Andrew thought about going around it, forgetting about it altogether. But soon he found himself standing at the door. He realized he was tired, and thought about the couches and blankets inside. These things called to his weary bones, offering him their warm embrace, their shelter from the approaching storm.