Authors: Bryant Delafosse
“The way I figure it, as long as we’re locked in here, we got beef with the management.
Odds are, they won’t mind us borrowing a few items against the millions we’re gonna make off them when we sue their asses off, right kid?”
Albert stirred.
For a moment, he was utterly confused.
Was he still in his apartment?
What day was it?
He felt a sudden tightening then loosening of his muscles and blinked up into the glowing sensors of a Mall Bot, who bent closely over him.
The Bot had a big red cross on its chest and forehead, a Med Bot.
“You are injured,” the Med Bot said in a shaky voice.
There was a final tug and he felt his shoulders loosen and his bound wrists shift apart.
He recalled being shot and tied up.
He remembered internal and external damage translated into computer code as pain, followed by power conservation mode leading to a full powering down.
“I have cleaned the torn epidermis of your hands, but you require immediate medical assistance.”
Then it all came back to Albert and he realized that he was not Albert Lynch.
He was a machine called Lamia.
“I require maintenance.”
The Bot simply stared with stuttering blue sensors, its metal body jittering in place.
Though it had been programmed with a much stronger constitution, than the average unit, the Med Bot still seemed unsettled by all the blood it had witnessed.
It must be confused by my outward appearance, Lamia decided.
He remembered clearly what the Voice had told him:
Although you are a machine, Lamia, you appear to all other Bots as human.
“How did you come to be restrained?” the Bot wanted to know.
“I was attacked.
They tried to de-acti… kill me,” Lamia replied, realizing that somehow the other machines had failed.
He was still on-line.
The Bot stepped back as Lamia rolled onto his knees and slowly rose to all fours.
“You require stitches,” the Med Bot announced loudly.
“Please refrain from unnecessary movement.
This unit is attempting to connect to the network so that a suitable medical technician can conduct the procedure remotely.”
Taking a moment to view the situation from a distance, Lamia realized how improbable it was that a single Med Bot had found him by sheer chance in a space as big as the Mall of the Nation encompassed.
“How did you locate me?”
“I was told,” the Bot responded enigmatically.
“The network is down,” Lamia replied.
“Where did you get your information?”
“I was told,” the Bot repeated.
This was going nowhere and precious time was being wasted.
Rising slowly to his knees, ignoring the pulsing heat in his side for the simple background alert that it must be, Lamia said, “Those responsible for my injuries must be located before they hurt anyone else.
That is your designated priority.”
The Bot stiffened.
Its sensors intensified for a moment.
“There is currently one human remaining inside the Mall of the Nation.
Security Agent Albert Lynch, badge #21635.”
“That is correct.
As the last human remaining, I alone have the authority to set a new program objective.
Do you understand?”
“I am required to follow your new program objective.
Please proceed.”
Albert recalled the words the silver Bot had said to the boy just before it was de-activated.
There was the boy’s mother and sister and another one called Simon Peter.
“To my knowledge, there are five H-type android units remaining inside this facility.
Are you familiar with the designation, H-type?”
“No,” the Med Bot replied simply.
“H-type units are units that appear human in every way but are not human.
They are machines.
Do you understand?”
The sensors of the Bot flickered briefly red.
“How then are these units to be distinguished from humans?”
“It is not your role to know the difference.
I will identify the H-type units for you.
They are in appearance one adult female human being and three children—one female and two males.
There also may be one additional unit that appears as an adult male.”
“This unit has no compatible information.”
“You have been disconnected from the network and have not received the most current data available.”
Lamia planted one foot in front of him and tested his weight.
“You will accept these facts from the only human remaining in this facility and an authorized representative of Mall management.
Please confirm.”
The Bot gave a curt nod.
“Information amended to unit database.”
“These H-types must be escorted to this designated representative of management for questioning.
Should any unit refuse to cooperate, it must be must be considered a rogue unit and terminated.
You will de-activate these units in the usual method.
Do you understand?”
The med Bot stood immobile and appeared to look through Lamia.
Finally, it said, “If these units appear human, it will be impossible to use force against them.
This unit cannot comply with…”
“Stop!
Listen carefully.
Any unit human in appearance that remains behind in this Mall after the evacuation of all humans will be by definition an H-type Bot.
Please acknowledge your understanding of the new data.”
The med Bot shuddered.
“This is incorrect protocol…”
“You will ignore previous protocol as erroneous input.
Please amend the current information to your processor as factual information. As the last representative of Mall management, I order you to accept this command!”
The eye-piece of the med Bot pulsed rapidly.
“Action completed.”
Relaxing somewhat, Lamia leaned forward, brought his second foot down, and slowly rose to his feet to stand before the Bot.
“You will disseminate this information to the other functional units within the facility using your Emergency Transmission Frequency.”
“This frequency is only to be used in the event of mass crisis in order to prevent the injury or death of individuals within the confines of the prescribed parameters,” the Bot responded flatly.
“Please state the authorized security code.”
Authorized security code? Lamia thought.
He didn’t have such a code.
Then suddenly, his lips began to move against his will.
“Six one nine nine delta echo.”
“Code accepted,” the Bot chirped promptly.
“Transmission commencing.”
As Albert watched, the blue sensors of the motionless Bot flickered in time to the delivery of the inaudible data-
stream,
he absently brushed the sensitive pads of his fingers along the length of his lips.
He shivered and recalled the momentarily sensation of shock as his lips had moved against his will.
How his vocal cords had produced the sound without any effort on his part.
I am a machine.
I am Lamia.
Lamia took a moment to admire himself, a wondrous machine; his potential still untapped.
He knew this because he had been told by the Voice.
Now it can be told.
He removed the dilapidated copy of
Breakfast of Champions
from his pocket and considered the story it contained--the story that had originated this revelation.
Yet, he suddenly felt doubt.
Something troubled him.
Bots were programmed against killing or harming a human being.
Even he knew from elementary school that it was the prime command of all machines, the strongest aspect of every machine’s built-in code, so much so that the sight of blood would drive a unit into an irreparable data loop from which they could never be retrieved.
If this were the case, why hadn’t his CPU collapsed after the car accident--before he had known the truth that all humans were actually machines?
To all appearances at that point in time, he had killed (
murdered
) the little girl.
The mind of a machine should not have been able of handling the shock of witnessing that!
Was it possible that those other machines were correct and he was somehow damaged?
Was it possible that everything he had been through had already caused a serious catastrophic failure of his CPU and something was already wrong with him?
(Or maybe, this was all a delusion.)
Did this necessarily mean that what he had been told was a lie?
Did this mean that he himself was no machine after all?
He recalled the book and how at the end, the main character Dwayne Hoover had eventually gone crazy and attacked friends and coworkers and eventually was put into a mental hospital.
For the first time, Albert considered the possibility that he may have missed the point of the book entirely.
Was it the knowledge that he was alone in the universe that drove Dwayne crazy or was he already crazy to begin with, he wondered?
When he, Lara, and Cora stepped off the escalator onto the second floor landing, Simon pointed toward the Time Out sporting goods store visible in the distance some hundred yards away and started forward.
“I’ll be right back.”
Lara stopped him with a hand to his chest and pointed toward the Wheel in the center of the Mall, visible from the bridge connecting the north and south concourse of the Yellow sector.
“No, I need your sharp eyes here and I don’t want Cora going anywhere without you,” she replied as she hurried down the north concourse, turning briefly to walk backwards.
“Cora, I want you to stay here with Mr. Simon and keep your eye out for your brother, okay?
If he passes, you’ll be able see him on the floor down there.”
Cora stood and watched as her mother walked away from her, silent alarm on her face.
“Listen and watch. Okay, Coraline?” she called back over her shoulder as she turned around and picked up her pace to a brisk walk.
“Okay,” she murmured uncertainly, glancing at Simon Peter, then turned back.
“Can I yell for him?” she called back at Lara.