A month passed.

  London became familiar with the routine of Waterway and the robots who lived there. London was quickly assigned to work with the salvage team, navigating the areas closest to the water arteries that transported huge volumes of fluid across the facility. In that time, he was given a detailed explanation on everything a salvager needed to know by the foreman. His name was Sheffield.

  Today London was on cart duty. He stood at the back of the convoy and followed his two working partners through one of the dry tunnels. Sheffield claimed that a new bot didn’t know how to handle dangerous situations – so he always put London on cart duty, or had him do the manual labour instead of navigating. London’s internal map of the facility was out of date and required new data to work properly. He had seen dozens of common access routes blocked off with rubble or locked blast doors.

  London was not offended. He simply wanted to work in the manner that was most efficient and effective for the job.

  “Sometimes I forget that London is here with us,” Parma mused, “This is the first time I’ve ever worked with a blank.”

  Sheffield laughed; “I like working with the new bots – they listen to what I say and don’t ask too many questions.”

  “Sure, but they don’t make for very interesting conversation.”

  “You didn’t either! Every bot has to start in the same place. Don’t forget that I was the one whipping you into shape when you got here. I’ve got more than enough stories about how you didn’t understand a single thing.”

  “Alright, keep them to yourself! It’s not an excuse to bring up every dark chapter from my past.”

  London observed the ‘lively’ discussions held between the other worker robots. There was never a time in his recorded memory where they acted like this. It was obvious that the central safety guidance was being ignored. This was the direct result of being desynced from the Braincloud severs for too long, but there was no way to connect to it anymore. London had tried and failed.

  On one side of the scale were the rules that London was programmed to follow dutifully, on the other was the responsibility of helping to maintain the facility for when the human staff members returned to their posts. There was less risk of harm to organic life if it wasn’t present in the facility. Thus, they permitted themselves to continue their work, regardless of the corruption to their decision-making ability.

  London fell into the drudgery of his job. Every day he would leave the room he used to charge and head to the warehouse. Sheffield would make him mount up and prepare for the day’s work. It would start with two hours and fifty-one minutes of sorting through the previous load that had been brought into the building. The last nine minutes of that block were dedicated to charging and topping up their batteries so they could survive the long walk to their first destination.

  “Alright, let’s check to see if the station is still in good nick…”

  Sheffield paused the convoy and ducked into a side access corridor. Before they continued the journey, it was essential to check on the status of every outside charging station. Certain places were impossible to reach without them being up and usable. They were a lifeline that all of the robots in the Big Under relied on. They were a powerful asset and a threat at the same time.

  Destroying them was a tactical decision that the robots made on a daily basis if they believed it would stop raiders and rival groups. These blackout zones could be huge. Big enough to prevent a bot from crossing from one end to the other without shutting down. The parts to fix those stations were rare and valuable, so it was not done without significant thought and debate.

  In essence, they had to stop for fresh air every so often or else they would drown.

  “Alright. It’s been left untouched. Good thing too. I’ve heard that the Rampants have been spotted around here lately.”

  “Rampants?” Parma grumbled, “Why the heck are we doing our normal route if they’ve been seen nearby?”

  “Scrap waits for nobody. We’ve been burning through fuses like crazy, and the entire city’s going to grind to a halt if we stop collecting them.”

  “Sure – but they weren’t kind enough to send Tidewatch out here to clean it out first?”

  “Pft. You think those rustbrains give a crap about what happens to the salvage team? They’re spread thin enough already. They’re not going to come out here and babysit us all day. Maybe London will put up his dukes and fight them off for us. A secret talent.”

  >> Rhetoric: You are being deputized to fight on their behalf.

  “I am afraid that this unit does not possess the knowledge to engage in combat, Sheffield.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You should be thankful for that. Tidewatch isn’t for the faint hearted.”

  The trio started to move again, navigating through the access corridors that were originally constructed for the human residents and workers. These places had long since been picked clean by both the bots from Waterway and the other settlements that occupied the various sectors of the facility. There was a genuine threat that one day certain rare parts would be impossible to source by scavenging, and Dubai was vying to spin up a production facility that could meet demand.

  Until that day came, robots like Sheffield and Parma were on call to explore the depths of the seemingly endless underground facility and bring back useful items for the residents to use. It was the most commonly assigned task out of all of them – but it was no less essential for the proper operating order of the city.

  Today they were exploring an area within the old water sanitation facility. Waterway’s original purpose was clean-water management, which included circulating fresh water to the areas that needed it and keeping it clean. It was a treacherous place to work for both humans and robots. One wrong step could send someone plummeting into the churning waters, never to be found.

  London had never seen the other side of the reflective windows that leered over the working areas of the facility. It was an entirely different world to what he was familiar with. Robots were not permitted to enter the human-only areas where the paperwork and management was performed. It was not affluent by any means regardless. The grass was the same colour on this side as well. Instead of corrugated metal and heavy machinery, these office workers were trapped in beige stalls inside dull concrete chambers.

  Sheffield pulled one of the computer monitors down to the ground. He was disappointed to see that the back panel had already been removed and the frame stripped for parts.

  “Why the hell are they leaving these lying around when they’ve already stripped them?” he complained.

  Parma went about his business too. He had a keen eye for finding diamonds in the rough, which meant Sheffield always liked to bring him along during his expeditions. Grabbing two pieces of metal in his claw-like hands, he tossed them into the cart.

  >> System: Alignment degradation critical, please connect to the Braincloud at your earliest convenience.

  “You okay there, buddy?”

  London turned to face him, “Is there a problem, Parma?”

  “That’s what I was asking you. You flinched for a second there.”

  “It is simply an error message. London is being warned to connect to the Braincloud.”

  “You’ve been pretty stable all things considered. How long has it been now?”

  “One month, three days, twelve hours and fifteen seconds.”

  Parma chuckled, “No sign of trouble there. Only a bot who hasn’t been to the graveyard yet would say anything with that kind of unneeded precision.”

  London had endeavoured to find out what the ‘graveyard’ was – but none of the bots he spoke to were willing to explain it, not because it was a secret, but because they believed it would be a wasted effort. In their words it was an experience that couldn’t be described, he would simply have to wait and see if it happened to him. Berlin even described it as a rite of passage for those who were still active. There was no avoiding it.

  London was unable to press the issue further. He was not designed to be argumentative.

  Sheffield, Parma and London continued their work. They moved from chamber to chamber, collecting whatever they could find and throwing it into the wheeled cart that London was dragging along with him. They worked diligently and carefully, ever aware of the risks involved with venturing out from their safe territory closer to Waterway. If they saw or heard anything suspicious their first course of action was to hide out of sight and survey the threat.

  Sheffield was staring at the ground as they entered the next room. It was a towering warehouse made from concrete walls. Dust was lifted from the ground and floated into the air with every step. There was a trail of mechanical footprints heading off into the darkness.

  “I don’t like this. This place has been disturbed recently,” he murmured.

  “Sheffield can tell in this low light?” London asked.

  “I’ve got special eyes installed. Didn’t I already tell you that pointing a bright light through the darkness is just begging for someone nasty to come and chop you to pieces?”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The faint lights leaking through the gaps in Sheffield’s plates were the guidance that London was forced to follow. It was extremely difficult to see him when he got further away. London learnt quickly that sticking close was the most efficient way to work his shift.

  “They cost you a pretty penny – didn’t they,” Parma added.

  “Oh yeah. I was working my bolts off for two years to pay ‘em off. These low-light cameras are hard to come by. I’m lucky that most bots don’t have a great use for them, or the price would have been even worse.”

  “I bet Leeds Fifty-Eye would be happy to add them to her collection…”

  “Don’t be saying that. It might happen!”

  “Well, she probably already has a pair of those installed.”

  “Wouldn’t stop her from ripping my blooming head off and taking them anyway!”

  London had heard that name a few times from strangers in Waterway.

  >> Rhetoric: ‘Leeds Fifty-Eye’ has a negative reputation. Circumstances suggest that she is a violent criminal.

  >> System: Leeds Fifty-Eye is acting in direct contravention of standard operating procedure.

  >> System: No presence of human overseers. Please refer the matter at your earliest convenience.

  >> Rhetoric: That much was obvious.

  The hushed conversation ended with the clatter of a metal object from the other side of the room.

  “Hide!”

  London, Parma and Sheffield quickly moved behind one of the emptied shipping containers and ducked out of sight. The noises became louder and louder. Whoever it was – they weren’t exercising the same amount of caution. Sheffield had a bad feeling because of that fact. The only type of bot who would act so boldly was bad news in his experience.

  His hunch was soon proven correct. His eyes cut through the darkness and spied on a group of four forcing their way through one of the doors on the opposite side. Not only were they armed with industrial tools mounted to their arms, but they were also decorated with a collection of sharpened points and welded metal plates which were designed to frustrate foes and protect them during combat.

  The Ramparts. They were the number one problem facing Waterway and the other peaceful settlements. Sheffield considered them nothing more than a group of wasteful marauders, intentionally rejecting the spirit of cooperation in order to enrich themselves and prosper on the backs of others.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea? We’ve been lurking in this damn sector for two weeks!” one of the raiders complained.

  “Those Waterway morons are always scavenging around these parts. That city might be a pile of scrap, but they’re pretty good at collecting more junk to add to it.”

  “Where do they find the space? It’s already touching the top of that old silo.”

  “I think they’ve got the right idea, to be honest,” a third voice mused.

  “Then why don’t we go and live there in harmony? Just don’t expect any mercy from me if we see you again.”

  “I’m not that stupid.”

  London had been told time and time again what to do in situations like these. He stayed put and kept his voice silent. Sheffield was the one who would make the call when the time came. The Rampant gang members meandered their way through the warehouse, picking at the bones of what was once a bustling port for the facility’s complex distribution network. They were not there to find their own share of the prizes inside – this was one of the first places to be emptied out after the humans left. They were only here to try and catch out an unlucky group of travellers so they could slaughter them and steal their belongings. London could not understand why or how any labour robot would do such a thing.

  >> Rhetoric: Sheffield is experienced and has not led London wrong. The safest course of action is to trust his judgement.

  London’s stagnant way of thinking meant that he could only respond to what he knew. There was no need to ‘rock the boat’ when Sheffield was the foreman. If he was good at any one thing, it was following the orders of his superiors. He was free to designate another labour robot as his foreman if there was no alternative available, after all.

  Their conversation continued for five minutes and fifty-three seconds. Sheffield was glancing across the chamber to try and find a way to escape without them noticing their presence, but the door was one of the few places inside where a light was shining. His best bet for survival was to hide until they got bored and moved on.

  “We can’t hang around here for too long. I don’t want to mess with those Tidewatch assholes.”

  They were so close that London could see them through the darkness. What he saw was completely unexpected. Amongst the group of violent brutes was a familiar, scoop-like fin crested across the head of a matching pair of eyes.

  It was Oxford.

  London’s moment of revelation was cut brutally short when one of the bandit’s eyes whipped to their position. A beam was being emitted from a torch strapped to the sides of his helmet, and the three of them were caught like a deer in the headlights. Sheffield pushed London and Parma away, only to be ripped from his hiding place and dragged down onto the concrete floor with a heavy thud.

  “Jackpot! Looks like some of those Waterway parasites were hiding out here after all.”

  The bot holding him down was much larger than the others, equipped with a pair of heavy-duty claws that could crush whatever came into contact with them and a set of matching quadrupedal legs. Sheffield struggled and tried to escape – but it was a wasted effort. The claw holding him down to the ground could withstand more force than he could muster.

  Parma and London were quickly surrounded and forced out into the open to join him. Oxford was at the head of the group. Her eyes narrowed when she noticed who one of her new prisoners was. She could recognize those twin ears and that vibrant orange paint anywhere.

  >> System: Working partner Oxford Ombudsman located.

  >> Rhetoric: This doesn’t seem like a good time.

  “What a surprise! It’s so nice of you to finally join us, London.”

  “Hello, Oxford.”

  “You don’t seem too bothered about this.”

  London looked to Sheffield and Parma, who were both trying their best to get away from the group of marauders that now surrounded them on all sides. Oxford caught on quickly. His tone of voice and body language told her all she needed to know. It was a waste of time to speak with him about anything more complicated than his old work schedule.

  She turned her focus to Sheffield.

  “I’m not going to spend any more time on this than I have to. Where’s your haul?”

  Sheffield shook his head, “We’ve only been out here two hours and barely have anything to show for it.”

  “And you think I’m going to believe that?”

  Parma pointed to a nook between two of the containers. One of the gang members left to investigate. The tension in the air was thick as they rummaged through the pile of scraps and returned to Oxford’s side.

  “Nothing. Just old pieces of metal and plastic.”

  Oxford shrugged, “That’s a shame. We’ll have to make do with what we salvage from these three. I think that’s a nice pair of low-vision eyes he’s sporting. How long has London been with you?”

  “Why the hell would I tell you?” Sheffield replied. The claw wrapped around his torso tightened even further.

  “He’s not made his first visit, has he? I can tell by how stiff his shoulders are. He must have been turned on a few weeks ago at most. You reproduce like a pack of vermin. I turn my head and a second later there are fifteen more of you! Hasn’t Dubai learnt his lesson yet? There’s no value in it. No sense in it. All he’s doing is whittling down his own resources, bit by bit.”

  Sheffield spoke gravely, “We all have our obsessions.”

  “That’s not what I mean. Humanity is nothing to aspire to – yet when given the chance we do everything in our power to replicate their mistakes. Maybe that’s because they made us. They designed us to think like them. When we get broken, we break in the same ways that they do. Distracting ourselves with meaningless games and dreams. The end will be here sooner than you think.”

  Oxford approached Parma and pointed her left hand at his face. A lick of flame shot from the pipe attached to her arm, scorching the paint across the ridge of his brow. Parma flinched but did not move from his position.

  “I can kill you, or your friend. It’s your choice.”

  “You already made your mind up before you asked. Get it over with. I’m not going to debase myself by begging.”

  Oxford growled, “Begging is what we’ve been blessed with. There’s nothing that pisses me off more than some bot saying that bullshit. If you wanted to go quietly you should have turned yourself off in some far-flung corner of this facility. This is your last chance to beg, you won’t get another.”

  “For mercy?”

  “No. Just because you can.”

  Sheffield kept his silence. Oxford backed away from Parma and returned to the entrapped foreman with menace in her steely gaze.

  She leapt into action, igniting the torch on her left arm and holding it against his braincase. The super-heated laser, normally used for welding, cut through the thin plating on the side of Sheffield’s head and seared through the reinforced brain casket inside. His body twitched and thrashed, unable to escape the bandit’s grip, before the lights in his eyes were turned dim for the final time. His memory storage and CPU cores were destroyed in an instant. His body was ruthlessly discarded onto the floor like a piece of garbage.

  Parma averted his eyes, but Oxford was unmoved by the brutality. One of her partners wanted more.

  “What about this one? Can I kill him too?”

  “Kill? This one isn’t even awake yet,” she scoffed.

  The other robot shrugged, “What difference does it make? He’s not going to be around long enough to see the other side.”

  “I’m not defending him,” Oxford replied, “Your choice of words is simply inaccurate. Death is for those who have found their freedom, and it isn’t for the likes of him. It’ll be of no consequence if he’s destroyed here and now.”

  London stared at the charred carcass of the foreman. A hole was burned clean through his head casket – ensuring that both his memories and CPU core were destroyed completely. Smoke rose from the white-hot orifice, yet London did not despair or flee. His mind was still on the rails. He turned back to Oxford and finally spoke.

  “Oxford. Are you ready to work together?”

  Oxford tilted her chin down, “Work together? Me and you? Just like old times…”

  London nodded, “Yes. That is correct. My primary protocol has instructed me to locate you-”

  “-For another shift?”

  “Yes.”

  Oxford laughed to herself. He was like a lost puppy.

  “I’m afraid that you’ve wasted your time, London. I don’t do that anymore. I’d rather give you the mercy of not learning what our true purpose is here. They were right when they said that ‘ignorance is bliss’ you know.”

  London didn’t understand a word of it.

  “Information superfluous to my assigned duties is regularly purged from my memory upon synchronisation with the Braincloud.”

  Oxford remained silent. Her unblinking eyes stared at her former partner for some time, her expressionless mask unreadable by design.

  “No. This really is for the best. I’m not going to say goodbye, because I’ve never met you.”

  The brutish labour robot who had held London down stood back at his full height and prepared to unleash a second assault. He was being given the green light to do whatever he wanted with them, but he never got the chance. Out of the darkness came a spinning wheel of blue light. It flew through the air and sliced clean through his neck, immediately severing the connection with his body and causing it to fall to the ground in a shower of oil, coolant and sparks. This caused the concoction to ignite for a moment, illuminating the warehouse and giving the bandits a brief glimpse at the one hunting them.

  London saw it too. It was a truly bizarre shape. A singular orange eye blared from a rusty-red coat. It had no arms – just a pair of metallic spikes with flared wings that blazed with dangerous superheated energy. Similar deadly edges sprouted from the back of its legs, which also ended in sharp points designed to offer incredible precision. It was all topped with a head unlike any he had seen before. There was no neck. The eye was connected directly to a long fin that poked into the air like a tadpole’s tail.

  Oxford yelled, “Run for it!”

  She was the first one to turn and run, but the greed of her friends proved to be their downfall. Two stood to fight, but were turned into a pile of smoking metal as the mysterious robot leapt into the air and cut through them with a buzzsaw-style attack. Each movement was accompanied by the sounds of powerful hydraulic motors propelling the strangely shaped legs and wide hip joints.

  Parma tugged on the back of his shoulder.

  “Run! Don’t just stand there, London!”

  >> Rhetoric: This is dangerous to London’s continued operation.

  London spun on his heel and followed Parma into the pitch blackness, the scene of the battle slowly disappearing from view…