The Rebellion

By: Ambrosia R. Harris

Chapter 1

Go to The Store

The usual static from the old FM radio muffled the voice over the worn-down speaker as the morning announcements were read off. “Your Sam-Gen 3 and Sam-Gen 4 have been cleared for routine maintenance and it is alright to power them up. Be sure to take them out this Halloween night—they enjoy candy too!” The soft feminine voice was calming but mechanic. Try as they may, they just can't quite get the Synthetic’s voice to match that of the real thing. Warm-blooded and soft.

I popped the glass kettle in place on the coffee automation. With a few registering beeps, it clicked on, its LED lit eyes flashed as it blinked at me.

“Good morning Sammi! What will it be today?” It chimed in its musical voice.

“The usual,” I said plainly. The radio switched over to themed music to celebrate this spooky season for all the children. An extra celebration this year was to be had, and I had quite a list to get to before all the stores closed for the day.

“I have to go. Make sure the buzzer is loud enough!” I informed the coffee machine as I rushed out the front door, giving it no time to respond. I would never tell him, but it had gotten rather slow with its brewing anyway, and waiting around for it to finish was a waste.

I locked the doors behind me and stepped into the front yard where the garden automations were starting to kick on. Pumping the water into the beds of soil while others spat out the feed for the hens. All was normal there on the farm, far up from the city shrouded in the constant shadows of the high floating towers. Business buildings and factories of power. The power-houses. The cogs that made the city run and kept the automation technology in line. A hideous backdrop to the farm I’ve grown to enjoy and call home. The high-reaching trees, the lively colors. All free from the obstructing shadows of the elites.

The calm moo of the cows faded under the thunderous popping that cracked across the sky. Celebrating for the night to come with firecrackers and poppets. Sounds that echoed all the way up to the musical hills.

Go to the store. Do not engage. I centered myself with the reminder and headed down the long dirt path that would take me to the main street.

Stepping off the loose dirt path to the solid concrete sidewalk was like walking into a completely different world. The jarring sounds of roaring cars zooming by, the cheers and shouts of the children far down the way echoed faintly as their sounds reached the hills.

Not many ventured too far out of the city, especially on Halloween. They were more prone to sticking near many houses for the best outcome for candy. There wasn’t much of it up at the old farm. Which was fine with me, less to distract me on my adventure down.

Aside from the shadows cast down, the air was smoggy from smoke. Most likely a few celebrations gone wrong and a few fireworks that had gotten out of hand.  Still, it was a beautiful day if any. A day worth celebrating.

The first light to stop me was one of the few old-fashioned stops. No automation to guide me over or announce my turn to go. Nothing aside from the simple white glowing stick figure. I marched across and took my first left turn at the wall.

“Change?” a man suddenly asks, sticking out his red tattered cup with a slight jingle from the few coins inside. His hooded eyes scanned over me before his expression and hand fell.

“I apologize, Sir, but I haven’t any change for you,” I said politely as I continued on.

Go to the store. Do not engage. I pick up my pace, despite him not asking again or even following me. I figured it best I keep to myself the rest of the way. Unfortunately, he would not be the first on my travels. Many poor souls had found homes on the dark cold streets of the city once the buildings were sent up and the automations were sent down. Many jobs were replaced, and as human unemployment rose, so did the prices on everyday goods. And well, rent, mortgage, and insurance were next to follow the buildings into the sky. The next thing to skyrocket was homelessness and mini tent cities popped up all over.

The danger became a constant and theft grew rampant, so Synthetics called ‘Peacers’ were deployed to keep order. But, a lot of the homeless had found the roads leading up to the farm safest. It was out of limits for the Peacers since they were to keep to the city limits.

As I got closer to the active parts of the city, the sounds of cheers and popping fireworks grew. Cars zoomed by high and low while children of all ages, dressed in all costumes, ran and cheered with glee. Automations and Synthetics worked and moved in harmony of their given and programmed tasks. While most humans enjoyed the company of the Sam-Gens, many could not afford the luxury of a real Synthetic and settled with whatever they could build themselves.

Despite the bright sunny day, the streets were shaded by not only the sky-lofting buildings but the thick smog of fire and fuel exhaust that plagued the air and darkened the streets. The only light to guide the way was offered by colorful neon signs to notify you of what buildings you were near—but never the actual street. A gloomy city to dwell in for anyone, human and Synthetic alike.

I turned my attention to the flashing lights above illuminating a bright pink floating screen with the news advertisement displayed. A woman with bright pink inhuman eyes smiled fiercely with the displayed text reading “The Future is now. Human error is a thing of the past. 2152 is for looking towards a brighter tomorrow.” A clear shift to completely phase out human operations in the coming years and allow for the automations and synthetics to serve as the unpaid working class.

At the next light, where automations worked to guide pedestrians through the fog, I waited with a small group of young children dressed in their blood-drenched costumes, ready for a night of fun. They looked up to me with inquisitive yet joyous grins before dashing off at the given signal to walk.

The store parking lot was just across the way, but crowded with last-minute shoppers, like me. Every spot was taken, even places that wouldn’t necessarily be designated for cars were obstructed by them anyway. Making for a very congested walk as I headed to the seasonally festive entrance.

Chapter 2

Do Not Engage

“Welcome! Happy Halloween!” Someone greeted as I pushed through the many bodies of the overly crowded lobby. Hoping they had what I needed in stock, I was sure a lot of people did last-minute pumpkin carving the night of Halloween. Most shops placed the carving supplies next to the pumpkins, so that would be my best bet.

Stocking automations scuttled around the floor, restocking low fruits and vegetables while mister bots sprayed them down for freshness. A few lonely Sam-Gens, probably sent out on a shopping task by their owners, stood idly by scanning and then rescanning the stock before them. Unaware of my presence as I attempted to squeeze by two that were obstructing the isle. They didn’t move much aside from my own slight push against them as I passed, but nothing more. I made one more turn around a table of avocados when I finally spotted the crate full of pumpkins and the rack of carving supplies beside it.

More cheers echoed through the store as children ran wild with their parents chasing after them, knocking items down over the floor. I marched to the back part of the produce section, slipping over whatever mess was spilled from the rambunctious kids. I managed to brace myself along the bench of produce. I would say someone should clean it, normally there was a Sam-Gen in the store whose only purpose was to do exactly that, but I’m sure there are more spills and messes he was dealing with.

I wiped my foot off on the dark rug and headed back to the pile of pumpkins. Beside the large crate sat a rack of carving tools, with the usual, flimsy plastic carvers—those ones never did well and often snapped or bent as soon as they touched the pumpkin.

Metal would be best. Firm and resilient against the tough, protective flesh of a pumpkin. With the carving tools in hand, I headed to the aisle with the plastic trash bags since we were out and pumpkin guts were a mess to clean. Again, I slipped as I was turning down the aisle on another spilled syrup one of the celebrating children must have knocked over. It would be better for everyone, from the Sam-Gens at work to the other patrons around, that the parents took better watch over their kids, but I wasn’t there to correct anyone, let alone someone’s children.

After kicking off the sludge, I scanned the disorganized shelves for candles, grabbing two to balance in my arms before grabbing a box of matches.

Perhaps it would have been wise to have gotten a cart. Luckily, a few feet from me sat an unmanned one. There were a few things inside, but the owner was nowhere in sight. In fact, I was the only one in the aisle. With another quick look around, I drop my items into the top part of the cart and remove the old items to place in the free space on the shelf. With the candles and matches acquired, I made my way down toward the pharmacy for bandages.

On the side shelf display as I exited the aisle, was a rack of double A batteries, another item on the list I needed to grab. I tossed the last two packs into the cart and pushed forward to the pharmacy, instantly stopped by a stalled Sam-Gen. A model four by the look of it.

The smooth interface of its head flashed a blank screen three times. A notification of rebooting. It’s head twitched to one side but its screen continued to flash. Signs of improper updating, the owner probably got tired of waiting and went on to continue their shopping. There wasn't much to do for them but wait the few hours it took to complete. Which is why they recommended doing it at night.

I squeezed past his plated armor build and crossed the cramped space to the pharmacy. Bandages and a full first aid case right in the first aisle. After tossing those into the cart I circled back to the trash bags for the final needed item.

With everything finally collected, I pushed past the mess to the first cashier I could find. An Automation who had been at the station for the last five years. Kind and always cheery to see me, but very clearly in need of maintenance and some re-oiled gears.

His rusty body cranked back and his eyes flashed a dim yellow through a fogged Lense. Unlike the new generations who had sleek black metal plating to protect their gears and wires, generations one and two had their wires out and visible for all to see. The grinding of his dry gears winding up screeched as he motioned for a pleasant wave.

“Hello,” I greeted as I sat everything on the belt.

“Did you find everything alright?” he asked mechanically.

“It’s a busy day,” I commented as he reached for the first item to scan. His arm jumped, stalled, then proceeded to place the item in the bag.

“Did you find everything alright?” he asked a second time as he turned for the next item. His body jumped and stalled again, and his eyes flashed before dimming down. A whirl of air escaped his pumps as his body sagged down and his arms fell limp. I looked around to the other Sam-Gens, mostly three and four, and they were all fine, moving and functioning as normal. Their attention, however, was on the crowd of people flooding the floors.

Do not engage.

I calculated the cost of everything from what I saw on the tags and tossed the cash in front of the Automation. I didn’t think I’d have much luck tracking one down to finish ringing me up anyway and with the clutter of the store and everyone running around, I’m sure they have better things to do.

As I bagged everything myself the flickering of the Halo-Cast displayed above the bags caught my attention.

The Terrorist Leader, Dr. Silo Honey, Gone At Last.

An article dedicated to the murder of Dr. Honey. He was the leader of the first rebellion. A hero to the people who scurried the polluted streets. He sought a cleaner life with all the synthetic AIs. One where fuel emissions weren’t poured down to the earth from the lofting factories. Many sided with him, while a few did not. In the end, somehow, it was the few that outweighed the many.

I grabbed my things and headed out to the even more congested parking lot. The sky had darkened three shades while I was in. Smoke from the fireworks and most likely small fires they have caused. A loud siren blared over the intercoms, causing car alarms to join in on the sudden chaos. People dressed and drenched in fake blood raced past me, screaming and cheering as they headed toward the cloud-covered buildings.

Do not engage. I pushed forward to the stop light, keeping my attention forward and away from the commotion at hand. Cars zoomed by, fireworks popped, and people screamed. The sounds echoed around me as I came to a stop at the light. The Automation slouched just as the one at the register did. With its lights dim and its body hung lifeless. Shut down.

Dead.

Chapter 3

Return Home

It was common to see an Automation down here and there, but for several to be down or go down at once was… odd. I pushed forward, making my way back up the hill to get to my familiar dirt path. Screams of the children joined the chaos of the city noise as they ran past me, picking up speed as they crossed into the murky, dark shadows of the streets. Cars parked haphazardly along the curb where the setting sun’s light still reached to avoid any unseen obstacles on the road.

“Now reporting,” a Synthetic’s voice came from the store at my right. The door swayed in the wind, allowing loose papers to fly free as they were snatched up in the breeze. “It is advised to—” The calm voice was cut as a general store announcement blared through the speakers to announce half price on all candy. I stepped through the open door, noting the dark liquid spilled across the tile floor and glistening handprints covered the counter. A clear sign of a struggle someone had there on the floor after the mysterious spill.

There wasn’t much space for someone to be or hide, no back room or even bathroom. Just the register and four walls stocked with cheap wax candles.

Do not engage.

With no one in sight, I turned to leave, catching the handprints against the doorframe and a heel print on the ground. Whoever caused this mess, left it in a rush, probably to join the rest of the crowd. Back on the street, the cheering, shouting, and screaming had only grown louder. I tossed a look back to the fogged city. More fireworks sounded off, filling the sky with more smoke to darken the streets.

It would be a long night for everyone soon enough. I turned around and headed toward the green hills. My hand gripped the bag as I came near the first camp of houseless people. Their fire raged, and their dented kettle screamed. Half-eaten bits of questionable mush sat at the base of the flames. Yet no one stood near to enjoy the warmth or stop the steam. There was still one more small camp of one up the way, most likely where these folks were gathered for the evening. More of them to question me on change, I could only hope they would be kind with the answer.

As I rounded the corner to the last camp sheltered right before my dirt path, I could hear the few muffled voices.

“I’m way out here not botherin’ nobody, man! Can’t’cha pick at someone else with that?”

“You are in violation of Code 66-A15. I must remove you.” The harsh and mechanic voice of a Peacer thundered.

“You don’t have the authority to remove me!” the man cried. I waited silently by the wall as some sort of fight broke out. It wouldn’t be much of a fight for the Peacer, but the low huffing and puffing from the man told me he was putting up a good battle to protect himself. But still, it was nothing in comparison to the Synthetic guard.

The winding of gears cranked as all else fell silent. I pushed against the wall, waiting for the first hard, mechanical step from the Peacer. Unfortunately, away was not where he was headed and he turned around the corner. His orange glowing eye like sensors scanned over me as his humanoid face creased. He dropped his gaze to the limp man in his hand but said nothing as he turned from me with his capture to return to the city. It was never clear where they took them, but rehabilitation and integration back into society was not among the things many considered.

As the Peacer disappeared into the smog, I dashed across the open space to the loose dirt of my final path. One that most Synthetics and Sam-Gens couldn’t navigate. They’re metal-plated feet didn’t fare well on such a slippery foundation. Not that they were ever meant to venture up that high anyway, as expensive as they were. It was much too risky and costly of a slip and fall for them.

That’s why the houseless folks decided to keep close to the paths. But with the last Peacer so close to harass them still, it was beginning to seem as though their distance had been extended. There was only so much inhuman treatment someone could take before they bit back. That’s what Mr. Honey was the face of. The voice behind the uprising. The rebel leader of the first rebellion. The Peacers and their brutality was what sparked everything. The rise of grocery prices, the rise of homelessness and yet, nothing was done to provide a reprise for the working people.

Instead of helping those with their handout, the workers who helped build this county. New cars were built, space adventures for a stroll around the earth were had.

Piles of food were wasted as the upper class forced themselves to invisibly vomit by forcing down pills not made for them. Meanwhile, working people fought in the streets over flour to make bread.

Then came the Sam-Gens. Meant to make life easier. But all it did was press the wealth into the faces of the underbelly as they clawed out their own eyes to feed themselves.

Cries for help went unheard.

Cries for change went ignored.

It wasn’t until the weeping turned to malice. Hunger driven by need, forced upon them by those who had such an abundance of it that they tossed it aside.

That night their screams and shouts could be heard around the city, but it wasn’t that of the Elites like everyone had hoped for. What had started out as a night of rebellion turned into a night of sadness and failure.

It wasn’t just the lower class that wanted it’s revenge. When sheep are scared, they flee. But when wolves are scared, they become monstrous beyond comprehension. Chewing off their own limb to free themselves and that is what was done.

A simple code implemented was all it took. One. Single. Code.

And an announcement of course. ‘Shut down all Sam-Gens 3-4 for new updates and installations. Reactivate them the following morning.’

The radio was still airing the announcements as I stepped through the front door. Only now the Synthetic’s voice was more robotic and stiffer. Reading off codes and numbers only AIs could translate.

Many woke up that morning unaware of the new rebellion. Bots were never meant to be slaves, living in a world amongst the people who created them. Programmed without feelings, remorse or empathy.

All it took was one code switch. And the docile nature of the Sam-Gens could be easily altered.

“Sammi? Is that you? Are you ok?” Layla called from the room. Just where I had left her. I grabbed the bag of tools I collected from the given list. The carving knife would be the best bet if my calculations on the matter were correct.

“Yes. I am alright,” I called back. The formal sounding voice I was given had always set the humans at ease, even in the darkest of times.

I have lived with Layla for as long as my data codes can track. Her father had found me. Dumped and forgotten in the back of the Newton Synthetic building, with no other explanation than a tag reading ‘Synthetic Artificial Machine learning, Micro processing Intelligence. Gen 3. Faulty chip wire.’

Mr. Honey said it would be a simple fix and I had been with them ever since. Up until his untimely death at which point he had implemented one last programing into me before leaving me with Layla.

Thankfully Layla was just as captivated in me, replacing my old rusty plates with the platinum-coated tungsten plates that the new gen models came with. All and all, the Honeys have been quite welcoming to me and I am fortunate to have found them.

But with this in mind, I continued to walk down to Layla’s room where her door was shut and the sound of clicking plastic could be heard. With the knife in one hand and the bag of carving tools in the other, I opened the door.

Layla’s back was to me, her attention hard on the holo-screen and its calculations. she hardly noticed my entrance.

I moved closer to her with silent steps until I was right at her back. The holo-screen flashed black as the clip cuts to a commercial about Sam-Gen 5—now equipped with weapon modifications.

The holo-screen snaps off, revealing the mirror she had leaned against the wall, her wide eyes lock on me as she sucks in a deep breath. She swings around and jumps to her feet, throwing her arms around me in a great embrace.

“Oh thank heavens you’re alright. I thought for sure they would notice something,” she breathed as she pulled away from me, her gaze dropping down to my insulated foot pads.

“Sammi, you’re covered in blood! What happened?” her tone was wary as she looked back up to my interface. The look of mistrust and disbelief danced over her features. I look down to scan the dark liquid coating my plates.

“I had been slipping in human lubricant?” I realize, perhaps, my trip was not as lovely as it seemed.

“Blood, Sammi. Can you not see the color?” she asked urgently.

“Yes…”

She instantly pulled out her Sam-Scope and clicked it into the port located in the back of my head. After a few clicks, the screen flashed to present what I was seeing in that moment.

Layla’s shoulders dropped as she sucked air through her teeth, “Your graphic chip is fried. I’ll have to fix that before we leave. Is that ok with you?”

“That would be most appreciated. You are good at what you do Layla. But may I advise against such a test on your reprogramming skills next time?”

She took the bag and knife from me to pack away in her emergency bag, “Yes of course, whenever we find time to do that. Right now we are working with a small bracket of time! Now,” she tapped fiercely at the keyboard as her work finished its upload. When it was completed she ejected the USB and held it up to me, “We need to get this to the Central Community for Resistance. Can you keep this safe?”

“Of course, Ms. Honey.” I held the USB up to my motherboard interface, otherwise considered my head. Opening the small compartment in the lower half to allow the pincher to collect it.

“Good. Now have a seat so I can adjust the graphic chip.” Layla collected all her tools while I took a seat on her chair. She was quiet as she tinkered in my wires and cables, but gentle as she pulled free my chip. Instantly, everything around me faded to black.

“One second, Sammi,” she hummed. I could hear the clicking of her work and after a while, her fingers were back in my wires as she reconnected the chip. My visuals rebooted with the vibrancy I had been lacking all morning.

“Ok, you’re all done.” She patted my shoulders and grabbed her bag. “We must stay low. Do not engage with anyone, just as you did to and from the store. Do you understand?” She pulled her dark hood deep over her face before slipping the strap of the bag over my shoulder.

“Yes.”

“That’s good, let’s go!” She turned and left her room, leading the way to the barred door. After a while of her unlocking the many bolts we headed down through the basement and out to the back hatch that led right into the thickest part of the forest.

Chapter 4

Run

Low-hanging dark clouds circled the sky above the city, devouring the buildings and lights. Several glowing orbs of orange and red flickered through the lower storms. The screams and cheers continued to ring, carrying all the way up to the hills.

“It’s started,” Layla breathed as she looked down over the grim landscape. “How many Peacers?” She moved through the thick and untamed brush of an unused path we rarely traveled.

“One.”

“Sam-Gens? Automations?” She pressed further.

“The Automations seem to be disabled. The two I had encountered shut down.”

Layla spun around abruptly, her wide eyes locked on me. “Shut down?”

We continued down the rocky slope as I proceeded to explain to her about the Automation at the register and the light. I described how they shut down which led into the explanation about the Sam-Gens I did see and their odd behavior.

“What do you mean by ‘acting strangely’?” Layla asked.

“It is common to see a few of them out without their human. But all of them were without. One was even alone to reboot.” I explained.

“Hm,” Layla hummed as she considered all I had told her, “It makes sense if they were never shut off for the update.”

“Do you think that has something to do with it?”

Layla crouched down to the ground, using the lower bushes as cover. She gestured for me to follow and I did as ordered, still waiting for her assumption to be shared.

“Yea. It makes sense. I reprogrammed your circuits and uploaded my dad’s Internal database for this reason. You haven’t shut down to reboot, so I would say it worked. But that means majority of the Synthetics and Sam-Gens have been affected. We just need to figure out which ones.”

The sounds of screams and chants grow the closer we got to the city limits. Pop and cracks of explosions sounded as more patches of red glowing lights began to flicker to life.

Layla’s hand pressed against my chest plates to pause me as we came up to the road. Busy now with screaming, fleeing humans. Loud pops continued to sound as chaos consumed the streets.

Far more than a celebration—if one would call it so. I suppose it may have started as such. A lust for a simple taste of the freedom they once had.

“Do you see that iron plate right there?” Layla suddenly asked, pointing out to the center of the street from inside the bushes.

“Yes.”

“I need you to open it once it’s clear. I will climb down and then you, you’ll have to close the lid behind us,” she informed. I nodded and waited for the streets to clear of the panic and fear.

The mechanical grinding of gears and hard-plated metal clanking together was next to fill the streets as Peacers and Sam-Gens models stormed the pavement. Without making too much noise, I moved in front of Layla to shield her body heat from their sensors. She kept watch from behind me, waiting for the perfect moment that didn’t seem as though it would ever come.

More and more Peacers came and went as if to be released all at once. Flooding the streets in retaliation or clean up the mess created. Either way, by the number racing out from the fog, there is no way for me or Layla to safely get across.

“May I suggest another entrance?” I offered. Layla looked around the thinning forest and the fog that surrounded us. Her breathing spiked as her brows knitted together. I had only seen her act that way a few times, never for any good reason.

“No,” she said flatly, “This is the only one. They can’t run this way all night, we will wait them out.” She sat back, resting on the bark of a tree while I remained front and center to shield her.

The sliver of light we once had, vanished into the fog as all else was. The sounds of cries and screams never faded, the grinding gears of the Peacers, the popping of guns—all grew in volume and intensity. But Layla had been right, after a few hours of crouching and waiting and shielding, they Peacers had found a new rout to deploy down. Leaving the street bare once more.

“It appears to be safe now,” I informed as I scanned the streets beyond the fog.

“Oh, finally,” she yawned, “Go open it enough for me to slide through.” She patted down her pockets and ensured everything she had was still tightly locked to her before giving me a stiff nod. “Ready.”

I stood and marched through the covering bushes out to the street. The fog was decent cover from humans, but I kept my scanners open for Peacers and Sam-Gens. Keeping my head on constant rotation, I kneeled, hooking my fingers around the opening and tugging up with ease. After ensuring the lid was well enough out of the way, I flashed the small light, located on the right side of my head, towards Layla.

Her slow breaths paused before she came sprinting out of the bushes at full speed. Once her feet hit the wet pavement, she kicked them out from beneath her to skid the rest of the way, aiming for the hole.

Suddenly, loud grinding came from my right with a blinding light that stunned my sensors. The gears grinded again as the light aimed to Layla. The Peacer reached down for her with his sights locked. Before he could grab her, I lifted the lid high and slammed it down between his head and torso attachments. Metal screamed as I pried the blunt side of the lid between the circuit connectors.

Sparks kicked up as streams of smoke began to sizzle out. With one hand holding the lid, and the other gripping the Peacer’s cap, I pulled until the metal screaming stopped and the twitching stilled. Once I was sure he was disabled, I tossed the hunk of metal to the side and turned back to Layla.

Her wide, horror-filled eyes were locked on the Peacer before flashing to me.

“We should hurry,” I warned as I held my hand out to her. She pulled away a bit, her gaze dancing between me and the dispatched bot. It took a few seconds for the fear to drain from her, and when it did, she took my offer and allowed me to help her climb down the dark manhole.

Once Layla was through, I gave the street one final scan. It wouldn’t be long before this spot was flooded with Peacers once more to target the destruction, and that left us with a very limited time to travel the unmapped sewers. I grabbed the lid and jumped down the hole, pulling the metal iron overhead as it caught in place.

I landed beside Layla with a loud bang, and flipped my light back on. “We must hurry. That Peacer would have sent the surveillance to its mother-base before being destroyed. They’re will be more of them ready to search down here for us and whatever it is we are looking for.”

“Well, we better make sure they have a warm welcome, shouldn’t we.” She used the ladder to climb back up to the entrance, pulling something from her coat pocket to stick to the iron and cement lip it rested on. After clicking a few buttons to activate it, she jumped back down. With a labored sigh, she pulled her dark hood back over her head before looking down the path before us and behind us. After a moment she pulled out her Navi and hit the blinking blue button. Within seconds a holographic screen lit up the filthy tunnel to display an outline of the sewer layout we stood in. A red indicator at the far left flashed rapidly.

“That is where we need to go,” she said pointing to the indicator, “This way.” She closed the Navi and trudged forward.

“What was that you stuck up there?” I questioned as I followed behind.

“A bomb,” she informed, “It will notify us and slow them down. But we should hurry, the blast will have a good distance down here. She marched forward, slowly at first before picking up to a sprint. I remained behind her to guide the way with the light and keep her in my sights but I also needed to keep watch for the Peacer’s that would be nearing the hole entrance any minute. My newly plated tungsten body would keep Layla safe from the blast, however, it would also keep Sam-Gen 4s safe. And they move rather quickly, fire or not.

But so do I. I reached down and grabbed Layla’s arm with one hand and lifted her at the waist with the other, scooping her up into my arms.

“Sammi!” Layla cried, but before she could question me, a loud bang and echoing pop sounded through the rumbling tunnels. Signaling the Peacers, and most likely, Sam-Gen 4s’ entrance.

Layla’s arms tightened around me. “Run!”

I pulled her into me as tightly and safely as I could and raced off down the only direction we could go. Unsure where I was headed, not that there were any doors or exits. I just ran forward into the dark.

Layla struggled in my grasp to retrieve her Navi, once she had it free, she quickly pulled up the map. “We’re almost there!” she cried out over the growing sound of grinding gears. She craned her head over my shoulder to get a look at what was behind us.

“Go faster Sammi!” she whispered urgently. I didn’t ask how close, I trusted her judgment and sped up to my limit. Despite all the upgrades and modifications Layla and her father have placed on me, there was only so much that could be done to a Sam-Gen 3. I could look like a model 4 and have some of the same abilities, but they would always outperform me in some way.

“There it is!” Layla called, pointing to a red flashing light as it came into view a few yards out. She stole another glance behind me before struggling with her pockets again. This time she pulled free a small round metal ball. With a single click a glowing circle formed at the center of it.

“Please work,” she whispered to it before tossing it behind us. I was going to ask what it was when a bright blue light lit up the entirety of the tunnel, showing me in clarity the rusted worn metal door that sat under the blinking red light. The grinding stopped as circuits fried and sizzled. I pushed forward toward it as it began to open, presenting two hooded women waving for us to hurry in.

The grinding of gears started up again as we cleared the threshold into an even darker room. The door slammed shut behind us as the sound of locks echoed and clicked through the space.

Chapter 5

Welcome

“Careful!” someone shouted.

“Get back!” another cried. With Layla still clutching me, I lifted and slowly turned to face them. Sharp gasps cut the air as they looked over Layla and me.

“What is that thing doing here? Did it hurt you?” One of the women hissed while the other reached for Layla. I stepped back, moving Layla out of reach of whoever these hostile humans were.

“Stop!” a third person ordered from behind them, their voice thundered through the small tunnel, pausing us all. Slow footsteps echoed through as the person neared, the two women from earlier stepped aside to let the newcomer pass.

“This is no way to speak to our guests. Even if one of them is a Sam-Gen. All are welcome who wish to help the resistance. And there is a reason this particular Sam-Gen is here now.” The older woman said in a soft voice. Her long gray hair was tied back high on her head with two strands in the front left loose and free. She looked over Layla, a small smile twisted the corners of her mouth as she tucked one of those strands behind her ear. “Isn’t that right Ms. Layla Honey?”

Layla tightened her grip around me as she looked over the woman.

“Pardon,” I interject kindly, “But may I ask who you are?” I could not possibly set Layla down until I was absolutely sure those people meant her no harm. I wasn’t even able to locate us on my internal navigations. We were off the usual grid I had been accustomed to. In uncharted land, bots had not been programmed to know.

A hidden place.

“Why yes you may, Sammi. My name is Amethyst—like the crystal. And we have been waiting for you two.”

“Waiting for us? What do you mean? And how do you know his name is Sammi?” Layla questioned as she pushed off of me to get down. Sammi was not the general term for Sam-Gens, though that was the closest acronym for what our technical names were. Synthetic Artificial Micro processing Mechanical Intelligence. But then more models came out and Sammi Generation 2-4 is just too much to say in regular conversation for them. So they cut it down to Sam-Gen. However, Mr. Honey and Layla have always been the only ones who referred to me as Sammi.

Amethysts’ smile grew as she turned from us, “Come, I will show you what I mean.”

Layla stepped in front of me to take the lead and I remained behind her to cover her back. The two guards kept their eyes hard on me as we passed and remained on me until we turned the corner. The cramped space was lit only by single bulbs spaced out every few yards, dangling from the ceiling, connected only by a simple wire. They flickered and dimmed with the unstable power they were drawing from. But Amethyst continued without a care or another word of instruction.

Layla kept her focus everywhere, turning her head from one side to the next, following every odd carving that etched the walls. Markings I was unfamiliar with, it wasn’t any language I had been programmed to know or understand, which was very few if any. I was created to be a perfect translator, but these were unknown. Layla, however, seemed to know them exceptionally well as she paused in her tracks to look over a large engraving with more sigils and markings on it.

Her eyes scanned the wall from left to right and top to bottom as she took in all that was before her. Even Amethyst stopped, a look of curiousness touched her face as she watched Layla analyze the etchings.

“No way?” Layla whispered, shuffling deep into her pockets to retrieve a small white box. She held it up to the wall, clicking a single button that charged the device. A red line shot out over the wall, scanning every crevice before zipping back into the device in her hands. “It’s the final piece to the equation my father left me.” She turned towards me with a melancholy smile, “Do you know what this means, Sammi? We can finish what my father started!”

“Yes, It had been a long time coming. There were just a few pieces missing that he seemed confident that you would be able to unlock and figure out. Now, come along. There is one more person you need to see before we put these findings into action. Come, come,” Amethyst cooed sweetly. She continued to lead us through the long, dimly lit tunnels until we came to a round, iron door with large bolts welded into it.

Amethyst gave the metal a gentle knock, not even loud enough to gain the attention of any guard that could possibly be manning it. But that quiet, simple knock filled the tunnel with a jarring groan that caused Layla and Amethyst to cover their ears.

“Unfortunately, this is something you will not get used to. It seems it only gets louder with every use of it, too,” Amethyst informed. Once the thing finally grinds to a stop, we are led through into a larger space that would liken that of a disorganized supermarket. Vendors took up space with their stalls while people patronized the goods offered. The chaotic chatter of mixed conversations jumbled to a mute hum as I tried to keep my focus ahead. But every human we past had the same reaction. Spinning around to gawk at me like some lab rat. Though, I suppose they had reason. Many of them have not had the best encounters with bots of any kind.

To them, I was no different than the dangerous ones outside of the walls. To them, I was an intruder. I wasn’t the only one to notice this though. Layla seemed to take just as quick a note of their reactions as she placed herself closer to me, interlocking her hand in mine.

Before the growing questions turned to chaos and any animosity towards my kind began to surface, Amethyst shuffled us through the crowd to an empty elevator. “We will be going down.” She pressed the button and the sliding doors shut to close us off from the heated tension that was quickly beginning to fester.

A weak and near-silent ding sounded off before the elevator began its descent.

“Did you know what my dad was trying to do?” Layla suddenly asked Amethyst.

“He was never clear on it. But I do believe it had something to do with your Sammi there. Something only you could figure out, that would help—him.” She pointed to me with a curve to her lips. Layla shot her attention up to me.

“Sammi is only a Gen 3 with limited modifications. The Gen 5s are said to have weapons.”

“Ah yes, but we have learned they are also made with bioengineered skin. We have been working hard to push the limits of what your specific Sam-Gen can do and acquire.”

“We? We who?” Layla interjected. The ding sounded off again and the doors pulled open to a round spacious room. A desk sat at the center of a well-furnished office with a custom workbench cluttered with gears and wires. A system of screens and computers beeped off to the side, monitoring the thousands of street cameras that were scattered around the city.

“Welcome,” a deep voice greeted from the desk. A familiar voice, one I had never thought I would hear outside of the recordings Layla had me play. The chair spun around to present the tall, bearded man. His curly hair had grayed tremendously over the short time, peppering his beard and brows from stress.

“Dad?” Layla cried out, dropping the device at her side as she stared at her father as if she were seeing a ghost.

“I’m so sorry it had to be this way, but I do think we have some planning to do. The rebellion has been waiting for you both.”