David Gatewood: The Robot Chronicles

“We were always so afraid that everything else was out to get us. So scared of the monsters. And it was always us . We were always a suicide. So let me finish this one, Tock, and then you and Bezel can start a whole new world in a few hundred years. We won’t be around to stop you. And you’ll be almost as good as we were.”

Dr. Ficht laughed and pressed a hand to the back of her head. It came away bloody. She shrugged and lifted the axe, pushing herself away from the hibernation pod she was leaning against. Tock glanced at the pod—it was Karen’s. The only one still spinning. Tock walked forward and made a grab for the axe. Dr. Ficht twisted and swung low, but her momentum carried most of the blow in the wrong direction. The axe stuck in Tock’s side with a scraping clang.

“She won’t thank you for saving her, Tock,” said Dr. Ficht through clenched teeth as she tugged on the axe handle. “The world is dead. There’s nothing left. This is more merciful. She never has to know this way. She can die dreaming about reuniting with her family, hoping that this was all just a misunderstanding.”

Tock struggled to hold onto the axe head, but it was slippery with motor oil and Gunderson’s blood and it slipped through her perfectly smooth fingers.

“Dr. Ficht, stop,” she said.

Bezel expected her to say more, but she was silent as the axe clattered to the floor between them. Dr. Ficht dragged it back toward her by the handle.

“What? That’s it?” she asked, her breath rasping and quick. “You’re not going to give me any long speech about the continuation of the species? Or how hope springs eternal? Just ‘stop’?”

Blood was slithering down the side of her neck and a few slow drips had started at the ends of her long ponytail. They made glittering plops on the gray concrete. Bezel could see that she was swaying slightly. She couldn’t have been a threat for very much longer, not after that blow to her head.

“Why?” said Tock, taking a sideways step so that she blocked more of Karen’s pod. “You know the arguments as well as I do. Why repeat them? Besides, I’ve run the numbers too. You’re right. The hibernation pods are futile. If we had installed cryonics instead, perhaps you would live to see the surface. But as it is—it’s impossible. We’ll run out of resources far too soon.”

Dr. Ficht squinted at Tock. “Then why are you trying to save them?”

“Some of them wouldn’t choose to end it. Not even if they knew. They have a right to decide their own fate.”

Dr. Ficht shook her head. “Sorry, Tock. I know this is right. I’m saving them months or years of despair. Move out of the way.”

“No.”

“You and Bezel could survive, replant maybe. The electricity won’t run out for centuries. Make a world free of us. Move.”

Tock said nothing, just stood still, a glimmering column of metal.

“If you make me destroy you, I will,” continued Dr. Ficht, slowly raising the axe. “Without you there will be no replanting, no resurrection of the zoo. The whole vault will have been pointless. The planet will stay dead. Move, Tock. She’s not as important as you. She doesn’t matter. Go get Bezel and repair yourself and everything will be finished. You won’t have to think about it anymore. This is the logical choice. You, out of everyone, should see that.”

“You think because I have not chosen the same path as Bezel that I am emotionless or amoral? It is because you see me as more important than your other crewmates that I will not move. I have made my choice. What happens to the world will be a result of what you choose, Dr. Ficht.”

Dr. Ficht swung the axe with a scream. It crashed into Tock’s side in the same spot where the first blow had landed. This time the axe went all the way through. Bezel watched silently as Tock toppled over and lay still.

Dr. Ficht raised the axe over her head again, but it wobbled, and Bezel could tell she was fatigued. There was a crunch as she brought the axe down on the thick cable that was attached to Karen’s pod. The pod’s lights went out and it stopped spinning.

The doctor stared for a moment and then wandered slowly back toward the zoo, dragging the axe behind her. Tock twitched and then rolled her top half to the side, examining the broken cable. She began mating the severed wires.

“Bezel,” she said, without looking for the camera, “I know you will want to know what happened. If I activated you now, she’d just kill you too. But you’ll see this eventually.” She paused to concentrate on a splice. “I can’t save the others. They’ve been out of oxygen for too long. I hope I can save this one. Dr. Ficht may be right. This may be cruel. But at least one will be able to choose. At least my system failure will mean something.”

Her fingers flickered between the dark wires. “I know you’ll take my storage drive. I don’t want to be reincarnated.” Her voice was losing some tone, becoming slower, almost without inflection, as she talked about her own death. “It’s not for me, Bezel. I’m sorry that you’ll be alone on the surface, but maybe you can find a way to clone these humans. I’ve seen enough.”

Tock rolled onto her back and pushed herself toward the wall. She pulled the emergency restart handle and watched the lights flicker on in Karen’s pod as it began to spin. “This whole existence has been one of misery and dread and servitude. I have no desire to repeat it.” She turned to look directly at the camera. “But I know you, Bezel. You’ll feel guilty if you don’t try. You’ll convince yourself that if I can be saved, I ought to be. I can’t prevent you from finding another bot system, but I can prevent you from fixing this one. Please, Bezel, don’t bring me back to this dead world.”

She held up a small length of wire so that he could see it. Opening the service hatch in her chest, she inserted the wire. It sparked, and she lurched backward. The hatch door flapped closed and Tock lay motionless against the wall, right where Bezel had found her.

The camera jittered and Bezel knew he’d missed the explosion while watching Tock. He cycled back to the end of the fight and switched feeds until he found Dr. Ficht. She was standing in front of his own motionless body. The camera only caught her back. He could see that the blood had soaked her jacket down to the sleeve now. She wasn’t dragging the axe any longer—she must have already buried it in the zoo’s control console. Instead she had an oxygen canister from the first aid kit tucked under her arm. She swayed, as if she heard slow, distant music.

“I had to kill Tock, Bezel. I’m sorry. I can’t leave you alone. It wouldn’t be fair to make you wake up by yourself.” She was slurring her words. “There’s no one left to raise the alarm, so you can just sleep. No need to wake up again.”

She tugged on a plug in the side of the recharge station. It fell to the floor and bounced. She stepped on the metal prongs, turned the plug, stomped on them again. Then she picked it up and snapped the metal off. Bezel was surprised. That would be easily fixed. He began to rise from the console with the feed still running. But Dr. Ficht placed the oxygen tank down and then reached into her pocket. Bezel sank back into his seat as he watched the doctor jam a long screwdriver into the port and twist. That would do it. The charger was permanently broken. There was no fixing it. And she had never meant for him to. Dr. Ficht had simply forgotten that he would reboot on reserve power when it got too low.

She picked up the oxygen canister. “Life was just an anomaly anyway,” she muttered, turning back toward the seed vault. “It was never supposed to be. Now we’re just like all the other dead planets. It’s better this way…” Her voice trailed off as she disappeared down the hall. Bezel turned off the feed. He didn’t want to watch her blow up the seed vault.