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Authors: Ian Lewis
Tags: Science-Fiction
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probably cease to function. Maybe there’s a way to disable the other devices, some way to minimize my electronic signature…
Once again I tear into the menus—the ones I’ve been through several times already as well as the new ones presented by Stage Alpha. Nothing stands out as helpful. I’m ignorant when it comes down to it, only surviving on luck up to this point.
Maybe it’s time to man up and take the beating I’m due. Go out in a blaze of glory. The other machine is ready to round the corner and will only have to spin around to be within reach of me—maybe it’s time to go on the offensive…
Slamming the control arms into motion, I rock with the swivel of the chair. My robot smashes deliberate strides into the pavement, clipping the glass and steel of the office structure with a shoulder.
Shards splinter in my peripheral vision, but I ignore them. My focus is on the blank space in front of me, the void soon to be filled by the hulking terror of my enemy. It’s half a breath away…
Coming round, the gray robot shifts into view. Armor laden and pale, it halts its advance.
In turn, I secure footing as best as I can manage then reach for the overhead controls. My robot is ready to throw down a thundering blow when a voice crackles through the cockpit.
“Hello, friend. I’m tired of hide and seek. Let’s talk this over.”
Who said that? I flip back and forth looking for some indication before coming to rest on a small pop-up dialog on the monitor. It says Comm: ADS01 in green font. The other pilot…
“Seriously,” the voice says. “I don’t want to fight you. Did you ever consider we might be on the same side?”
I almost don’t want to answer. Teetering on the edge of swinging anyway, I concede to drop my robot arms. Do I reply? I’m not on his side.
“Here, I’ll even back down,” he says. At this, the gray robot retreats two steps. “What’s your name? Let’s start with that.”
“My name doesn’t matter,” I say. No need to make things personal.
The other pilot’s voice is calm and accommodating. “OK, fair enough.” A pause. “Your cloaking doesn’t make you untraceable, you know.”
“I figured as much.” I try to be as snide as possible.
“So why not turn it off?”
Feeling hopeless, I shrug to myself and disable the cloaking.
“There, that’s much more polite. Now I don’t feel like I’m talking to myself. So, who do you work for? I imagine you’re a competitor of some sort. Or do you work for Worthington?”
“I don’t work for anyone. But I know who you work for.”
“Yes, I imagine you do, but you don’t know anything about us.”
I nearly spit my words. “I know enough.”
“You think you know enough, but that’s the real difference, isn’t it? What you think you know isn’t always accurate, nor is it often complete. Rarely, if ever, will your conclusions match reality, because you are working with a deficit of information.”
“Sorry, pal. I don’t have time to play mind games with you.”
“I’m not playing mind games, friend. I’m only explaining our dilemma.”
“Our dilemma?”
“Yes. You and I and these magnificent machines. One of us has to give up. And I can tell you right now we have every intention of finishing what we started.”
16
Reckless thoughts singe frayed synapses. Sweat slicks my palms, causing them to slip off the bulky control arms. I prepare for action for the second time, but the other pilot talks me down again.
“So, friend, where do you hail from? How did you get involved in this? Did you volunteer?”
I glare back at the motionless robot. “How about I ask you a question?”
“OK, shoot.”
“What happened to Worthington? Did you kill him like you killed Ray?”
“Ray? I’m sorry—who is Ray? Oh, you mean the fellow at the hangar. From what I understand, that was self-defense on our part.”
“Self-defense?!”
The pilot cuts in before I can finish. “Now, I don’t want to get
Once again I tear into the menus—the ones I’ve been through several times already as well as the new ones presented by Stage Alpha. Nothing stands out as helpful. I’m ignorant when it comes down to it, only surviving on luck up to this point.
Maybe it’s time to man up and take the beating I’m due. Go out in a blaze of glory. The other machine is ready to round the corner and will only have to spin around to be within reach of me—maybe it’s time to go on the offensive…
Slamming the control arms into motion, I rock with the swivel of the chair. My robot smashes deliberate strides into the pavement, clipping the glass and steel of the office structure with a shoulder.
Shards splinter in my peripheral vision, but I ignore them. My focus is on the blank space in front of me, the void soon to be filled by the hulking terror of my enemy. It’s half a breath away…
Coming round, the gray robot shifts into view. Armor laden and pale, it halts its advance.
In turn, I secure footing as best as I can manage then reach for the overhead controls. My robot is ready to throw down a thundering blow when a voice crackles through the cockpit.
“Hello, friend. I’m tired of hide and seek. Let’s talk this over.”
Who said that? I flip back and forth looking for some indication before coming to rest on a small pop-up dialog on the monitor. It says Comm: ADS01 in green font. The other pilot…
“Seriously,” the voice says. “I don’t want to fight you. Did you ever consider we might be on the same side?”
I almost don’t want to answer. Teetering on the edge of swinging anyway, I concede to drop my robot arms. Do I reply? I’m not on his side.
“Here, I’ll even back down,” he says. At this, the gray robot retreats two steps. “What’s your name? Let’s start with that.”
“My name doesn’t matter,” I say. No need to make things personal.
The other pilot’s voice is calm and accommodating. “OK, fair enough.” A pause. “Your cloaking doesn’t make you untraceable, you know.”
“I figured as much.” I try to be as snide as possible.
“So why not turn it off?”
Feeling hopeless, I shrug to myself and disable the cloaking.
“There, that’s much more polite. Now I don’t feel like I’m talking to myself. So, who do you work for? I imagine you’re a competitor of some sort. Or do you work for Worthington?”
“I don’t work for anyone. But I know who you work for.”
“Yes, I imagine you do, but you don’t know anything about us.”
I nearly spit my words. “I know enough.”
“You think you know enough, but that’s the real difference, isn’t it? What you think you know isn’t always accurate, nor is it often complete. Rarely, if ever, will your conclusions match reality, because you are working with a deficit of information.”
“Sorry, pal. I don’t have time to play mind games with you.”
“I’m not playing mind games, friend. I’m only explaining our dilemma.”
“Our dilemma?”
“Yes. You and I and these magnificent machines. One of us has to give up. And I can tell you right now we have every intention of finishing what we started.”
16
Reckless thoughts singe frayed synapses. Sweat slicks my palms, causing them to slip off the bulky control arms. I prepare for action for the second time, but the other pilot talks me down again.
“So, friend, where do you hail from? How did you get involved in this? Did you volunteer?”
I glare back at the motionless robot. “How about I ask you a question?”
“OK, shoot.”
“What happened to Worthington? Did you kill him like you killed Ray?”
“Ray? I’m sorry—who is Ray? Oh, you mean the fellow at the hangar. From what I understand, that was self-defense on our part.”
“Self-defense?!”
The pilot cuts in before I can finish. “Now, I don’t want to get
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