Code Lightfall and the Robot King (4 page)

5
Fabrication Tank

The Great Disassembly:
T–Minus Four Days

Code found himself in a huge cylindrical room. Shafts of sunlight cascaded through a glass dome three stories overhead. Swirling dust motes danced in the empty air. Bookshelves, stocked with thousands of crumbling tomes, stretched upward, crisscrossed by spindly ladders. A rickety old machine dominated the middle of the room. It looked like a gargantuan microscope aimed at a thick slab of metal resting solidly on the ground.

Peep scurried out of Code's shirt pocket and leaped into the air. She darted from place to place, examining everything with green beams of light. Safe for the moment, Code shoved his hands into his pockets, leaned against the door, and exhaled deeply.

Just then a wobbly, wheeled robot creaked out from behind a pile of musty books. Startled, Code yanked his hands out of his pockets, dropping a piece of paper. It was the drawing of the atomic slaughterbot he had made in school. Before he could pick it up, the curmudgeonly robot snatched it away.

In a slow, windy voice it said, “Hmm … what have we here? The fabrication tank was last activated four hundred and ninety-two years ago. Haven't seen a human in quite some time. But we'd be happy to make this for you, sir.”

“Sorry?”

“Hold,” said the robot curtly. It adjusted a pair of cracked spectacles on its face and scowled down at the page.

“Can I have that back, please?” asked Code, reaching for the paper.

The robot held up one dismissive clamp. Code stood there frowning, too polite to just snatch the paper away. Peep zoomed past and shot angry beams of red light that the half-blind robot simply brushed away. “Scanning that design for you just now, sir.”

Another clawed arm popped up over the robot's shoulder and a beam of blue light shot out. It rapidly traced the contours of the drawing. Wherever the blue light touched the paper, it burst into flame. In a matter of seconds, the page sprinkled to the floor as burning confetti.

“Hey! That was mine!” said Code.

“Very well, sir. We will be delighted to help you. Here in the fabrication tank we like to say that nothing will stand in our way and we will stand in the way of nothing. That includes the creation of your—how do you call it?—atomic slaughterbot.”

“What-bot?”

“It really is a strange choice. Probably extremely dangerous, but honestly who am I to judge?”

“Wait,” said Code.

“I'm just a simple, lowly clerkbot with a cracked frame and half a battery. I'm in no position to criticize your actions based upon what horrors you may or may not unleash upon yourself, the world, and the universe at large through your own blind ignorance, selfishness, and/or insanity.”

“Just stop for a second,” said Code.

“Eh? What I mean to say to you, sir, is this and only this,” said the clerkbot, raising one wavering clamper and placing it over Code's mouth to prevent him from speaking. “One atomic slaughterbot, coming up!”

The clerkbot slapped a bell on top of its own head.
Ding!

Now the huge machine in the middle of the room began to shiver and rumble, and wild light sprayed onto the walls. Code fell to the ground, shaken off his feet. The pitted surface of the metal slab began to glow: deep dull red, bright cherry red, orange yellow, yellow white, brilliant white, and, finally, dazzling white. Before his eyes, the slab liquefied, forming a white-hot swimming pool of molten metal. Code held on to the wall while the entire smoldering room hummed and thrummed, quaked and quivered. It felt as though the whole castle were about to shake apart.

The giants are sure to hear this
, thought Code. Code motioned at Peep to come back, but she ignored him and cavorted merrily through the air. She seemed to be enjoying the mayhem.

Discouragingly, the clerkbot scurried through a small door and slammed it shut. Code heard a
thunk
as the door was locked securely from the other side.

Code flattened himself against the wall as the ponderous microscope machine kept up its crazed activity. Motors whined as the machine whipped back and forth, tracing intricate shapes onto the glowing liquid with pulsing blue lasers. As the lasers etched patterns onto the slab, a shape began to rise up out of the liquid. A menacing form slowly emerged, growing foot by foot into a dark, towering figure.

Finally, it stood motionless and huge in the middle of the room. The machines died down. The lasers stopped. A nozzle sprayed cold swirling clouds of gas onto the slab, cooling down the liquid metal. The room became completely silent and filled with dense mist.

Code heard a low, frightening chuckle boom off the walls. Something was alive on the slab.
This situation has gone from bad to worse
, thought Code.
And now to
worst!

After a few seconds, the mist slowly began to clear.

Stray drops of molten metal rolled across the floor, but the slab was no longer empty. Standing there like an armored statue was a real version of the atomic slaughterbot from Code's drawing. The thing was over twelve feet tall, with short, awkward legs and long, apelike arms that hung nearly to the floor. It had a tiny head perched high up on its body. As Code watched, his creation opened its bloodred eye visor and blinked a couple times. It scanned the room and spotted Code.

“Hello, there. I'm Gary, your atomic slaughterbot.”

Code was speechless. After a moment, he managed to stammer, “M-my
slaughter
bot?”

“That's right. Of the atomic variety.
Obviously
.”

“You … slaughter things?”

“You hit the nail on the head, little buddy!”

“Do you do anything else?”

“Afraid not.”

“Why … slaughter?”

“Well,” said the looming slaughterbot, slightly ruffled. “Is a bird happy when it eats a worm? Is a kitten happy when it pounces on a string? Do you blame a wrecking ball for smashing through a building?”

“I guess not, but—”

“Great. See? I'm designed for slaughtering from the ground up.” Gary sighed. “And I do love it so!”

The monstrous robot flexed his battle gauntlets and flipped open a finger cannon thoughtfully. “Oh, slaughter, how I love thee! Let me count the ways!”

And then Gary began to hop around playfully. His reckless dance shook the room and shattered the domed windows above, sending shards of glass raining down. The glass bounced harmlessly from Gary's thick armor, but Code had to throw himself out of the way to avoid it.

Then the hulking robot burst into song:

Crashing, smashing, blasting, wrecking,

These are the things I love to do!

Lasering, Tasering, masering, phasering,

Slaughter, mayhem, I love you!

For I am a slaughterbot,

I never have to say “Please.”

Even if I am caught,

I can crush your head with ease.

My principle of attack?

Leap ahead, never look back.

My principle of defense?

I haven't got one—I'm too immense!

My head is extra tiny,

My arms are extra large,

My lasers extra shiny,

And I keep 'em fully charged.

My motors roar, my huge arms bend,

That crashing sound, it is your end.

Turn around, and run away,

For I'm about to slaughter—yay!

Gary stopped dancing and looked around at the devastated room. Code swallowed, certain he was about to be flattened. Peep chirped, annoyed by the dust and destruction.

“It's just a little song I wrote about slaughtering,” Gary said modestly.

There was nowhere to run. Code was trapped in this room with a chatty, oversized slaughterbot. And the only way to survive seemed to be to … talk to it.

“That's really, uh, nice,” Code called up to Gary. “But can't you do something
besides
slaughter?”

Gary thought for a microsecond. “No. That doesn't make any sense. I'm a slaughterbot, plain and simple. In fact, I better get on with the slaughtering! You'll excuse me if I unscrew your head from your body now?”

Gary reached for Code with a cranelike arm.
This is it
, thought Code.
My head is about to be crushed into jelly
. Code squeezed his eyes shut as the metal hand loomed closer and closer. And then he abruptly remembered something that Gary had said.

“Wait. You're
my
atomic slaughterbot?”

Gary paused. “That's right. And who are you?”

“I'm Code, and I need to ask you for a favor.”

“Anything for you, Code.” Gary waited for Code's command.

Code took a deep breath and then blurted it out: “No slaughter.”

“Come again?”

“No slaughtering. You can't slaughter.”

“Once more?”

“You aren't allowed to slaughter anyone. No slaughtering. Can't slaughter. No. Slaughter.”

“Not quite sure I understand. Are you saying that I should
not
slaughter? Or is this a metaphor? Or some kind of riddle? I'm not very good at riddles. Only slaughtering.”

Just then a thunderous knock sounded on the other side of the door. Code heard the booming voice of Brutus, bellowing angrily.

“Gary,” urged Code, “we've got to escape from here! Can you bash a hole in the wall?”

“Can't.”

“Why?”

“I'm not allowed to slaughter.”

Code pointed at a wall of old books and ladders and papers. “Gary! Slaughter that wall!”

Gary hopped up and down and clapped his metal-sheathed hands together.

“You got it!” With a gleeful giggle, Gary raised both fists high in the air and smashed through the wall, sending stones, chunks of crystal, and shards of glass erupting into the courtyard. Without looking back, Gary lumbered through the gaping hole, chuckling happily. With much less enthusiasm, Code and Peep climbed through the hole and onward to freedom.

6
Grassy Glade

The Great Disassembly:
T–Minus Four Days

“Be honest. Are you going to slaughter me?” asked Code.

With Brutus and Darla in close pursuit, Code and Gary had hurried through the countryside and away from the crystalline castle. Eventually, the booms of the robot giants firing their guns had died away. The mechanical woofs of hunting quadrupeds had also trailed off. Now that they had stopped running and begun to walk, Code felt it was time to ask the question.

“Nope,” said Gary in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Good, because you aren't allowed to,” said Code.

Gary's word was good enough for Code. It would have to be, since he couldn't outrun Gary even if he tried. Also, Peep seemed to be happy. She flickered ahead through the tall grass, always on a beeline for the Beamstalk that stretched like a thread on the horizon.
Who knows
, thought Code.
An atomic slaughterbot might make a good ally.

“So, if you're a human, who is the little one?” asked Gary.

“I call her Peep,” said Code. And then, just to be sure, he added, “And she's off-limits, too.”

“You got it,” replied Gary.

Peep flew up and landed on Gary's shoulder. She trundled around in little circles, inspecting him. Gary managed to crane his neck and focus on her.

“Where did you find her?”

“In my world. She led me here.”

“She is very small. You should protect her.”

“I will,” said Code solemnly.

The lumbering robot and small boy walked together into the dusk, through metallic blades of grass and over rolling hills. The journey reminded Code of the hikes he and his grandfather used to take through the woods back home—just the sound of footsteps, the feel of sweat evaporating from his forehead, the smell of the woods.

As they walked, they talked.

“Gary?”

“Yeah, Code?”

“Where did you come from?”

“From the fabrication tank.”

“But how?”

“From your schematics.”

“That was just a drawing I made up.”

“It must have been a pretty great drawing, if I do say so myself. You're an excellent artist, for a human.” Gary flexed his arm pistons and chuckled. Then, in a more serious tone, he added, “Imagination is valuable, Code. The trick is to turn it into reality.”

The tinny sound of crickets permeated the dense grass. Code followed the
screep
,
screep
sound to a thicket. He pulled a patch of grass aside, but found only a small green speaker. It broadcast the cricket noise over and over again.

This place is totally unpredictable
, thought Code.
I need all the help I can get.

As they marched onward, Code wondered aloud, “Gary? Why are you coming with Peep and me?”

“Well, Code, I don't want to sound mean, but you and Peep seem very … flimsy. And you aren't very big at all. Since I've got to be disassembled anyway, I might as well help you follow the great exodus to Disassembly Point. King's orders, you know. Even a newborn robot like me is programmed to know that much.”

“Why would the king order that?” asked Code. “Won't he be disassembled like everyone else?”

“Nope,” replied Gary. “Only robots can be disassembled. The king and his adviser will survive. Which is too bad for you humans. Once the experiment of Mekhos is over, the rifts will open. Immortalis will be able to go to your world. And it doesn't seem like a very nice robot. All those …
tentacles.
”

Gary shivered.

“Oh, no,” muttered Code. “Why would Immortalis want to go to Earth?”

“I hope you don't have to find out, Code,” replied Gary. “But the rifts to your world won't open until there are no more robots left in Mekhos. They're built that way to protect the human world from us. Immortalis can't leave until after the Disassembly, and it can't leave without the human king.”

Code could only imagine that murderous monster bursting out of Mek Mound and attacking people with its razor-sharp tentacles. Who knew what kind of mayhem Immortalis would cause in the real world?

“
You're
not really going to be disassembled, though, are you?” asked Code, a little afraid.

Gary's only response was to shrug and say, “I'm a robot. Deactivation is just another part of programming.”

Code looked at his thin arms and clenched his fists. For the first time ever, he had friends. Sure, they were robots. One of them was the size of a grasshopper and the other was as big as a house.
They're weird
, he thought.
But then again, so am I.

It didn't matter. They were his friends.

Code patted the massive slaughterbot on one plate-covered leg. “Don't worry, Gary. I'm going to find the Robonomicon and save Mekhos.”

“Thanks, Code. I
was
only created this morning. I'm too young to be disassembled.”

Code chuckled. “You seem pretty mature for a robot who was just made,” he said.

“I'm not just
any
robot. I'm an atomic slaughterbot model number nine-oh-two. Randomly selected individual name for smooth human interactions: Gary.”

“But you already know how to walk and talk. That took me years to learn.”

“Walking and talking come standard as part of the Tome of Knowledge of the Well-Adjusted Robot. It's the basic education that every Mekhosian slaughterbot comes equipped with.”

“You're lucky. I have to go to school,” said Code.

“Oh,” said Gary. “I did a brief stint.”

“When? I've been with you since you were born.”

“After I landed on the fabrication pad. There was a second or two where I had to move around my arms and legs to figure out how long they were and where my elbows and knees were and how everything worked. Sure, I had a basic idea of how to do it from the Tome. But the rest I just sort of picked up along the way.”

Gary looked at his stubby finger cannons, then wiped them on his chest modestly. “Why? How long does school take? Ten microseconds? Twenty?”

“Uh. About twelve years to finish high school. Another four years for college. Another two or four or six if you want to be a doctor or lawyer or scientist.”

Gary shuddered in horror. “Twenty
years
of school?” He burst into laughter, startling a nest of robo-starlings into flight.

“It does seem silly,” said Code, thinking about how nice it would be to finish school in a couple of seconds. “But it can be sort of fun, sometimes,” he added, thinking of Hazel.

The sun was beginning to set on the meadow they were walking through. All around them, small, brightly colored light-emitting doodlebugs (LEDs) hopped in tight spirals, leaving light streaks on Code's vision. Peep flitted through the air with the LEDs, flashing her own lights and showing off.

In the distance behind the happy confusion of swooping lights, the deep woods lurked, dark and deadly.

“I'm glad you're here, Gary. We've got a dangerous road ahead of us,” said Code.

Gary froze. Abruptly, his right arm broke in half and a cannon slid out and locked into place. The gun cocked and a warbling hum of electricity began to build.

“Where?” whispered Gary.

“Where is what?”

“The dangerous road?”

Code smacked Gary on the leg. “Ahead of us in
time
, Gary! Not in front of us right now!”

“Ahead?” asked Gary, scanning the path with his cannon.

“We've got a dangerous road in the
future
,” replied Code.

Gary retracted his cannon and relaxed. “Why'd you say ‘ahead,' then?”

Code scratched his head. “It's just how humans talk. When something is going to happen in the future, we say it's ‘ahead' of us. And when something already happened in the past, we say that it's ‘behind' us. It's kind of weird, now that I think about it.”

Gary reached down and lightly cupped the top of Code's head. He turned it from side to side, inspecting it carefully. “I've got it. Most of your sensory organs are located right here in your head area. Your eyes and ears and that other thing in the middle of your face.”

“My nose.”

“Right. Your eyes, ears, and nose are all pointing the same direction—forward.”

“So what?”

“That must be why you humans think the future is ahead and the past is behind. Because you go through life always following your eyes and ears and noses.”

Code thought about it. “And robots don't?”

Gary's chest swelled with pride. As he spoke, he began to practice little karate chops in the air, positioning himself defensively in front of the tall grass. “Not really. I've got sensors pointed in every direction at once. I can access satellites floating in space. My range finders are pointed front and back. Maybe something's sneaking up from behind?”

Gary jumped and spun around, midair. He swung a hefty paw and scissored a clump of grass in half with one serrated forearm. “
Pow!
Slaughterized!”

Code sneezed and brushed several blades of grass off his shoulders. “That's nice, Gary. You're a real piece of work, you know?”

Gary's red eye visor pulsed with sudden emotion. He stopped walking and looked down at Code. In the setting sun, Gary looked to Code like a hazy building looming overhead. Light-emitting doodlebugs danced around them in the twilight and the metallic grass tinkled gently in the evening breeze.

“Thank you, Code,” said Gary. “That means a lot.”