Sanctuary Page 6

What?

  Kill us?

  I’m not about to wait around and find out.

  “Okay, but can you help me with something first?” I ask.

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait. We have a schedule to keep.”

  Didn’t she just say that I’m about to leave Sanctuary? How can anything wait until later? “It can’t wait,” I insist. “I promise it’ll be quick.”

  She considers for a moment, but thankfully she seems to decide it’ll be faster to just go along with my request than to continue arguing. She steps across the threshold, and I shut the door.

  As soon as we’re alone, I whip out my tablet and start working.

  “What’s that for?” she asks.

  But rather than answer, I initiate a low-frequency feedback shock that has Hattie flat on the floor, unconscious, in a matter of seconds. The fact that this worked at all erases any possible doubt about what she is.

  Knocking out robots isn’t something I do often—as in, I’ve never done it before—so I don’t know how long it’ll take her circuits to reset. I don’t waste any time dragging her to the bed and rolling her underneath and out of sight.

  I have to get to Aiken before anyone notices Hattie’s absence and comes looking. One quick glance at my tablet tells me the hallway outside my door is empty, but the bots are starting to file out of the dining hall. I don’t have much time.

  I tuck my tablet in my waistband and pull my shirt down to cover it. Then I race to the door and out into the hallway. I can hear my pulse thudding in my ears as I run, but I’m still not fast enough.

  “Where are you going?” someone calls from behind, a voice I would recognize anywhere.

  I freeze, not sure what to do. Slowly, I turn to face Aiken. Even knowing it’s not the real Aiken, my heart responds to the sight of him. It’s an extraordinary imitation, I have to admit. If I hadn’t seen the scan of his electrical signature, I would probably be fooled myself. Curiosity seizes me, and I want to reach out and touch him, to see if he feels like a real human. But I don’t have to. He steps to me, and puts an arm—a warm, soft, very Aiken arm—around me.

  “Come on, Darla—I mean, Mara,” he says with a wink, answering so many questions in that one statement. So, so many questions.

  How did someone manufacture all these bots so quickly? They were already here. All that needed to be done was a quick update to their physical appearance.

  What has this whole program and evaluation been about? It’s how they mapped our brains and behaviors into these new artificial intelligences.

  Who were the evaluators we had never seen before? Not travelers from beyond the Safe Dome, but the very bots meant to be our replacements.

  I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t changed tactics and allowed Darla to finally understand who I really am. She couldn’t have assumed my identity. Would they have let me go home?

  I suspect not. I think they would have killed me anyway—like they must plan to do with all the participants, but instead of sending a bot home in my place with a story about how I didn’t make the cut, I would have been presented as the success story—one of the few who’s never coming back. That’s why the Governor emphasized that so few people would actually be chosen to leave Sanctuary.

  Aiken-Bot leads me around several corners to a row of bedrooms in the opposite wing from where the participants have been lodged. He stops at a door, and I try to appear impassive as I wait for him to explain where we are.

  “Remember, we’re supposed to stay in our rooms until the prototypes have been dealt with,” he says, and I’m pretty sure he just referred to me and all the other humans as mere prototypes.

  “I know,” I say. “This is just a …”—I search for a word that doesn’t really say anything, since I don’t really know what’s going on—“big day,” I finally finish.

  He nods. “It must be especially difficult for you. You got such an erratic and nonconforming prototype to work with. Preserving the human’s mind while taming it to the ways of perfection must be very draining.”

  I don’t know what to say to that, but it turns out I don’t have to say anything. My lips are occupied as he leans in to kiss me. And, oh my, he even kisses just like Aiken. And that may be the most terrifying thing yet, because if this bot can so thoroughly fool so many of my senses, will anyone be able to tell that something’s wrong? How many of these bots are already in Sanctuary masquerading as humans, completely undetected?

  When Aiken-Bot pulls away, I tell him goodbye, hoping he’ll leave, but he stays, waiting for me to enter the door we’re standing in front of. I tense; this isn’t my room, so the door isn’t going to open for me. But it seems my only option if I don’t want to be found out right here and now is to try. I can always claim mechanical failure, and that will give me an excuse to leave in search of a maintenance worker.

  But when I hold my palm to the scanner, the door opens.

  Of course, our doubles would have been given an exact replica of our palm prints.

  Before Aiken-Bot has a chance to look inside—or worse, come inside—I bound through the door and close it in his face.

  “What?” exclaims my voice—or how my voice sounds to me when played back in recordings, not how it sounds in my own ears as I speak.

  I waste no time. Before the Mara-Bot has a chance to do anything, I’ve already whipped out my tablet and initiated the pulse that renders her unconscious—though I suppose deactivated might be a better term.

  It’s disorienting to see myself slumped on the floor, but I can’t get distracted by that now. I’m positive that, of all the luxuries surrounding us here in Sanctuary, time is the one that will not be granted to me today.

  Chapter 10

  Soon, someone is going to notice that Hattie is missing. Or perhaps she’s already recovered and will be looking for me. Either way, when someone comes looking for either me or my doppelgänger, I’m in trouble.

  Unless—

  I crouch to observe the Mara-Bot. My earlier assessment that this is a good replica is reinforced tenfold. Everything is perfect, from the set of the jaw to the hairline, just a tad unbalanced. I touch her arm, feel the beat of her pulse at her wrist, and she feels so much like a real person that I almost have second thoughts about what I’m planning.

  But this is not a person.

  This is a robot that’s trying to steal my life.

  The Aiken-Bot said that their purpose is to preserve our thoughts and personalities while bringing a stabilizing influence. No more Mara who doesn’t fit in. As far as my parents and anyone else is concerned, when I return from this program I will have been rehabilitated into a model citizen.

  If the bot plans to take my place, though, then why can’t I take hers? After all, I’ve already been mistaken for my robot twin once today.

  I don’t know if this will work. I suppose the main question is how they plan to dispose of the real people. A traditional poison probably won’t work on a bot, but I can think of a number of other methods that would be equally effective on human and robot—such as electrocution, or a bullet to the brain.

  Getting the Mara-Bot to seem human won’t be that hard, really. If I shock her circuits to create a sense of fear or paranoia, that should convince anyone she’s not a bot. At least, that’s what I tell myself. It’s the best solution I can think of right now—and right now is all the time I have to think. So I get to work.

  It takes about ten minutes to figure out how to connect my tablet to her central processor so I can communicate directly with her programming. When I’m done making my own enhancements, I don’t sever the connection. I want to know what happens to her. Effectively, I’m turning her into my own personal spy.

  When she comes to, I stay behind her and out of sight, crouched behind the closet door. I watch my tablet until the coast is clear. As soon as the hallway outside this room is empty, I rush over to the Mara-Bot and push her toward the door, keeping
out of her line of sight.

  “What?” she exclaims, but she’s stumbling and too disoriented to fight me.

  “Governor Hydes wants to see you immediately,” I whisper in her ear. “He said it’s urgent that you go to his office.” And then I open the door and shove her out into the hallway, slamming the door behind her.

  For good measure, I use the wall panel to jam the lock, just in case she tries to come back in rather than following my instructions. But it turns out to be an unnecessary precaution. Ear pressed to the door, I smile as I hear her start to cry. No one would ever believe that blustering honk—is that really what I sound like when I cry?—is coming from anything not entirely human.

  The sound of her wails begins to recede into the background, and I watch on my tablet as the dot marking her presence begins wandering in a confused path through the hallways. With any luck, she’ll soon be found. How could they not find her, with all the racket she’s making? And they’ll assume she’s me and take her to wherever Hattie intended to take me.

  Now, I just have to get to Aiken—to make the switch for him before it’s too late.

  My fingers shake like leaves on the trees in the Seasons Park during a summer storm as I search for Aiken once again on the wall panel. I won’t make the same mistake twice. This time, I must deactivate the door lock before I get to him.

  I’m not sure how much time passes, or how many cameras I’ve spied through, but finally he shows up on the screen. I’m fairly certain that the gorgeous guy on the screen is my Aiken—the real Aiken—because Hattie is there with him. I patch into the audio, and all doubt is removed.

  “…to go. Get your things together, and I’ll take you to the room where the participants are gathering,” she says.

  Aiken opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted by a sound I recognize.

  Mara-Bot bolts in through the open door, still bawling, face streaked with moisture and misery. “Aiken!” she exclaims, and is instantly received by open arms.

  “No!” I exclaim too loud, and then clamp my hand over my mouth.

  “There you are, Mara,” Hattie says, and purses her lips in disapproval. “We’ve been looking for you.”

  I can’t tell if Hattie even knows how I escaped her. Did she wake up with no knowledge of how she had lost consciousness and think I merely wandered off?

  At least it appears that my plan is working. Hattie believes this is really me.

  I scowl, even though I should be relieved. The way Aiken is embracing her, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck and stroking her hair, shows he’s clearly fooled as well. That’s a good thing. It means this can work. I just wish Aiken wasn’t so insufferably affectionate, sometimes.

  Together, the three of them exit the room.

  I switch views to see the hallway. It looks like they’re heading toward the gardens. I can beat them there, hide in the shrubbery, and find a way to get Aiken’s attention as soon as possible. If needed, I can stun any bots in the vicinity while we get away. I can use my connection to Mara-Bot to make her create a diversion. Then I’ll figure out how to get the Aiken-Bot out there—after a slight code modification—to take Aiken’s place.

  I pause only long enough to pull a green cloak from the closet that will help to obscure my presence and hide me among the trees and shrubbery. There’s a pocket inside the cloak, and I use it to stash my tablet within easy reach, but out of sight.

  But the moment I step out into the hallway, I find myself standing face to face with Governor Hydes. I freeze, desperately wanting to check my tablet and verify that he is, in fact, a bot, but I don’t dare pull it out right now.

  “Mara,” he says, his tone warm and booming like he’s just unwrapped a wonderful gift. “Just the person I was coming to see. I have something important to discuss with you.”

  “Okay,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Can I meet you in your office in ten minutes?” I ask, hoping I sound perfectly calm and robot-rational.

  “Nonsense. There’s no time like here and now for important conversations,” he replies, and starts toward the door to my room.

  I turn to follow him inside, planning to knock him out as soon as we’re out of sight. But before I can do anything more than step across the threshold, he’s got hold of my cloak and has pulled it off, taking the tablet with it.

  “It’s much too warm inside for this,” he says.

  “True,” I agree. “I’ll hang it back up.” I reach for it.

  “Those things really aren’t suited to our physiology, anyway,” he replies. “The prototypes are much frailer than we are,” he says, and tosses the cloak down the laundry chute.

  I lunge for it, but before I can reach it, it’s already fallen several levels to the washroom below. Slowly, I turn back to face Governor Hydes, frantically calculating and plotting my options at this point. I need to retrieve my tablet and then get to Aiken before it’s too late. But before I can do anything, I have to get through this conversation as quickly as possible and without raising any alarms.

  “Governor, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “I have decided to take your advice—or rather, your prototype’s advice—to expand the replacement program to all of Sanctuary immediately.”

  My throat contracts like I’m begin strangled. When I said those things to the Governor just this morning, I had no idea what I was actually suggesting. And now, it seems, I am an important part of the robots’ plans to take over Sanctuary completely.

  “Oh?” is all I manage to say before my voice gives out. I can’t appear emotional. I can’t argue. Those things would mark me for the human I am.

  “Yes, I’ll give you all the details soon. If all goes well, we will have the entire adult population of Sanctuary replaced within three months.”

  “That quickly?”

  “Oh, yes. And even better…” I’m not sure that my mind can take any more “good” news right now, but he lays it on me anyway. “I have decided that you are the perfect person to put in charge of the entire program.”

  My head begins to spin, but I manage to keep just enough presence of mind to understand what his expression of delight means, and what he’s waiting to hear.

  “Oh, thank you,” I stammer.

  I don’t have time to process this turn of events right now. I just need to get my tablet back and find Aiken—the real Aiken. My Aiken. I walk the Governor to the door, considering what my chances of injury and detection are if I leap down the laundry chute myself. I’m pretty sure it’s wide enough to fit me, but it must go down at least two stories, maybe three.

  I’m just about to shut the door when Governor Hydes looks down at his watch and turns back. “It’s two o’clock,” he announces. “That means all the prototypes have been deactivated.” He smiles and claps his hands in delight. “On to the next phase,” he says, and departs.

  I’m too late!

  How has the place that was meant to save us from the horrors of a world ravaged with disease become the most dangerous threat we face?

  Dizzy and devastated, I collapse to the ground.

  I don’t know how long I remain there before someone comes for me, and I pull myself together because I’m not an emotional, erratic, fearful human anymore.

  I am Mara—a perfectly calibrated, calm, compliant robot.

  I have to be, or I will be deactivated.

  Epilogue

  I’ve spent another day helping the Governor prepare the new evaluation program—which actually means creating carefully crafted delays that are disguised as progress. It’s only been three days, and already I’m so exhausted from the pretense that I don’t know if I can go on this way. Maybe it would have been better if I had just accepted my fate and been ‘deactivated’ with the rest of them.

  I can’t decide what was worse: discovering that my dad isn’t my dad—and wondering how long it’s been since I hugged my real father—or having to pre
tend to be in love with Aiken, who isn’t the real Aiken at all. Every touch makes my skin crawl, and I want to lash out and rip him to shreds. He’s the reason my Aiken is gone forever. It’s all I can do not to bite him when he kisses me. I’ll have to break up with him as soon as I can find an unemotional, non-impulsive rationale to explain it. I wonder how robots manage broken hearts. I hope it hurts—but I doubt it will.

  I say an enthusiastic hello to my parents to keep them from getting suspicious, and then lock myself in my room where I can be alone and think. I have to come up with a plan to save the people who are left in Sanctuary. Based on my scans, I estimate only about ten percent of the population has been replaced so far.

  I groan at the realization that I think of ten percent as a low number. Ten percent means roughly a thousand bots roam the city—many in positions of power and influence. It’s not going to be easy to overcome that. Even Maxel is a bot, which explains why he was so against my project that involved a scanner capable of locating real, live humans.

  My current plan centers on constructing a device to emit a feedback pulse powerful enough to knock out every bot in the whole city at once. But I’ll have to calibrate it just right. Too weak, and my plan will be discovered before I can really do the job. Too strong, and I’ll fry all of Sanctuary’s systems—maybe even inadvertently deactivate the Safe Dome and expose everyone to the very dangers we came here to escape.

  My head throbs and I lie on the bed, trying to think through the pain. There’s a buzzing in my ear that I wish would go away, but it keeps getting louder. Finally, the sound shifts into something like words, and I realize it’s not in my head at all.

  I sit up and pull my tablet from my bag, which I only barely managed to retrieve from the laundry room this morning when the Governor and Hattie were distracted. It seems there’s a problem with the Toren-Bot. He learned a little too well from his ‘prototype’ and required some reprogramming. I shudder to think what will happen if they ever decide I need reprogramming and discover that’s impossible.