“What’s so special about this art?”
The crewbot took a deep breath, clasped its pincered hands together, and in a deep voice began to deliver a clearly memorized speech: “When you see a piece of artwork, the experience wriggles into your brain and changes who you are. It throws a monkey wrench into your noggin. Years later, you’ll have a crazy idea for a drawing, a story, or a nuclear-powered toaster, and you won’t know where it came from—but it’ll be because you saw a piece of art years before. Art shakes up your brain!”
“Okay,” said Code cautiously. “But I’m really used to seeing the world through my own eyes.”
The crewbot laughed uproariously. It wiped a tear from one cheek and straightened its sailor cap. “You are a riot! Everybody who is in the know knows that organic eyeballs are next to useless.”
Suddenly serious, the crewbot pulled out a clipboard. It clicked a pen and rolled itself closer to Code. “Let me ask you a few important questions, sir. Can you see in the dark?”
“Uh, no.”
“Can you see when the sun is shining in your eyes?”
“No.”
“How about itty-bitty microscopic objects? Can you see those?”
“Well, no.”
“Can you see X-rays, microwaves, radio waves, and infrared waves?”
“I don’t think so.”
The crewbot threw the clipboard away. “Then what good are you? Can’t see in the dark or the light. And I’m betting you can’t zoom in and out, take pictures, or do anything else useful with your eyes.”
“Wow, yeah,” said Code. “I mean, no, I can’t.”
“Then why not go for it?”
“If I do this”—Code held up the little greenish eyeballs—“I’ll never be the same again. What if someday I don’t even remember what it was like to see the world normally?”
Code thought about Lodestar. Did it remember what it was like to be a real whale, made of flesh and bone? Another whale probably wouldn’t even recognize Lodestar as one of its own species. But if you change only a part of yourself, aren’t you still the same person? It’s just my eyes, thought Code. They’ve got nothing to do with who I am as a whole. And if I could take pictures with my eyes, I would have a perfect memory. If I could see tiny things, I’d be a human microscope. And if I could see in the dark, I’d never need a night-light again!
But then a frightening thought crept into Code’s mind: Was this what had happened to his grandfather? Did he start on this same path and then end up trapped here with that monster Immortalis? Maybe it starts with just one little upgrade, and the next thing you know there are robots crawling all through your body and you aren’t even recognizable as a human being anymore. And what if I can’t ever leave?
“Can I let you in on a little fact?” asked the impatient crewbot, leaning in conspiratorially. Without waiting for a response, it said, “Change. Everything is change. From one second to the next every single creature is changing. We learn new things and forget old ones. We get a little older and a little stronger. You are never the same person from moment to moment. Change. You can’t hide from it. Embrace it, like everybody else! I mean, what makes you think you’re so special?”
“Uh, I’m beginning to wonder,” said Code.
The crewbot broke into a grin. “You’re not! You’re not special in any way! Nobody is. So stop worrying. Life is about what you do, not about what you think about.”
Code considered this. It was true that he had traveled out of his own world and into Mekhos. He had ridden the mowers of the Topiary Wyldes, soared across the Nanoscopic Traverse on the transped, and fought XO in Clockwork City. Just a few minutes ago, he had escaped from ancient sea monsters in the Fomorian Sea. More important, Code had overcome his fear and made the best friends of his life. And now those friends needed him.
Super-vision could help me find the Robonomicon, thought Code. It could help me defeat Immortalis and save Mekhos. I’ve got to do it, he realized.
“Okay,” Code said, nodding to the crewbot. “Let’s do it.”
“That’s the spirit!” cried the crewbot. “Get over yourself! When in Rome!”
Code took a deep breath and looked at the pair of blinking eyes he held in his hands. The crewbot explained what to do, and Code pressed the green devices over his eyes. They flashed, activating on contact. Pow! Code let go. The orbs stuck to his eyes, big round hazel balls that swiveled around, looking in every direction.
“What happened?” asked Code.
“Congratulations,” said the crewbot. It held up a pocket mirror.
Seeing himself, Code shrieked in alarm. The bulging eyes were stuck to his face, wildly rotating left and right. He clawed at his face in horror, but the eyeballs stayed fixed.
“I can’t get them off!”
In a panic, Code snatched the mirror from the crewbot. His gargantuan green robotic eyes protruded from his face and made loud motor noises every time he looked around. They were an ugly, monstrous addition to his face—and they were apparently attached forever.
The crewbot began to speak. “From a hundred yards away every creature looks just the same—”
“Who cares about that?!” wailed Code. “I look like … like a Chihuahua!”
“Or a goldfish,” added the helpful crewbot.
Code sat down heavily on the stairs. He drew up his knees, put his head on his arms, and squeezed shut his eyes. “I’m a freak,” he sobbed. “I shouldn’t have done this. I should have stayed home where it’s safe and read a book in my bedroom.”
All at once, the two green orbs popped off, hit the ground, and rolled away like marbles. Code’s eyes snapped open. He reluctantly looked in the pocket mirror. His eyes looked just as they had before, only now they had an odd gray green shine to them.
“What happened?” asked Code.
“Those shells were just there to protect your precious peepers while the real robo-retinas installed themselves. I didn’t have the heart to tell you, little camper.” The crewbot burst into laughter, then stopped. “Be careful. Once you’ve had one upgrade, you won’t want to stop!”
The crewbot did a quick pirouette on its rubber wheels. “Enjoy the art, pal.” And it zoomed away, laughing maniacally.
Code looked around the room again—this time in absolute wonder. His eyes zoomed in on sculptures to examine them in microscopic detail; he focused his eyes in a new way to see paintings in other spectrums of light—from infrared to microwave—and he found that if he blinked twice quickly in just the right way, his eyes would take a picture that he could look at whenever he wanted.
Code returned to the top deck and spent the next several hours exploring the world through a whole new pair of eyes: he watched solar flares erupting from the sun in spouts of magnetism; he examined a family of insects crossing the railing, each the size of a pinprick; and he took many silly pictures of Gary in various bodybuilder poses. But when the crewbot gathered the passengers to the front of the boat for their farewell, the boy was completely unprepared for what he saw.
“Welcome to the Right Eyeland,” said the crewbot, extending one arm and smacking its rubber gum.
The majestic island spread before them, forming an almost perfect circle except for a river that ran across the middle. Most of the surface was a flat, dusty plain teeming with millions of robots gathered for the Disassembly. But dead center, a jet-black building sprouted from the ground and towered over a mile into the sky. The top was almost invisible among low-hanging clouds.
“Welcome to the Monolith Building of the Right Eyeland,” said the crewbot. “This lovely isle was created during the Great Garbage Wars of yore, when Charlie, the greatest hero and criminal of Mekhos, used a terra-blade to resculpt our supercontinent into most of a smiling happy face. This island got its name because it is the right eyeball. Isn’t that just the cutest story you ever heard?”
The crewbot assembled the rest of the passengers and addressed them all. “We will now continue up the Mercu
rial River until we reach the Monolith Building, at which time we will disembark so that we can all get broken down into our component pieces and put on shelves. Kerbang!”
The crewbot laughed at its own joke, then straightened up. “But seriously. It has been my pleasure to accompany you all on this final voyage. You’ve been my best group ever. Enjoy the Disassembly!”
Code zoomed his eyes in on the Monolith Building and saw that a narrow ribbon of light rose from the tip, straight up into the sky—higher and higher—until it ended far above the clouds. His mouth ajar, Code stared up at the twinkling line as it curved away into infinity.
With one carefully placed fingertip, Gary pushed Code’s mouth closed. “Looks like we found the Beamstalk, little buddy,” he said, grinning.
15
Beamstalk
The Great Disassembly:
T–Minus Three Hours
When the water strider reached the end of the Mercurial River, it docked in the shadow of the mile-high, jet-black Monolith Building. Anchored to the building’s roof, the Beamstalk soared away into the sky overhead. Code and Gary carefully tiptoed down a narrow gangway that soared over the frothy sea below and ended in a cobblestone courtyard at the base of the Monolith. Grooves in the sides of the majestic building contained elevators crowded with last-minute robot sightseers. The mood seemed bright and cheery—considering what was about to happen.
Following the crowd, Code and Gary crammed into one of the larger elevators, and Code felt his stomach lurch as they rocketed up the side of the building.
The roof of the Monolith Building was made of flat black stones with a large curved depression in the middle. From the bowl-shaped divot, a ribbon of pure light shot up into the sky—the Beamstalk. Up close, the shimmering cord of light was beautiful, humming with energy and radiating a dull, dry heat.
“Easy,” said Code.
Gary smiled.
Thirty minutes later, Code stalked back and forth with a red-glowing Peep fidgeting on his shoulder. Gary stood guard. Impatiently, Code threw his head back and stared straight up, nearly losing his balance and falling down. The Beamstalk speared into the clear blue sky and veered away into the atmosphere. According to the infinipede, the Robonomicon was being held captive somewhere above, in the Celestial City. But there was no way to climb the razor-thin beam.
Squinting, Code zoomed in with his robo-retinas. Floating high above, at the top of the Beamstalk, was a winking point of light—the city. On maximum zoom, Code could perceive far more detail: the city was a splendid confusion of turrets, towers, and walls protected under a translucent dome, all of it tethered to Mekhos by the superstrong Beamstalk.
Code stopped pacing.
Up above, a plate-shaped platform had appeared. It was descending smoothly down the Beamstalk at an incredible speed. Code thought he could make out a pair of industrial-sized arms sprouting from the sides of the platform; they spewed steam and waves of heat as they gripped the beam tightly, lowering the whole platform hand over hand. Peep twittered in anticipation.
As the platform approached, Code knew what he had to do. “We’re going to have to hijack that robot lifter,” he said to Gary.
Gary grunted in assent, watching the platform drop closer.
“It will probably be well protected,” added Code.
Peep crouched on Code’s shoulder and shook her rear end fiercely.
Gary folded his arms across his chest and nodded. “We can fight our way on board in ferocious hand-to-hand combat, disable all the terrifying guardbots, and then skyjack the whole mamma jamma.” Gary cocked his finger cannons one by one. “If brute force is the only thing they understand, then brute force is what they’ll get.”
Code watched Gary skeptically as the heavy robot hopped around and shook his arms like a boxer getting ready to brawl. After the battle with XO, he doubted whether Gary was really in fighting condition. I’m going to have to protect him, thought Code. Despite all those tons of armor, poor Gary was pretty defenseless.
Seconds later, the platform glided to within a few dozen feet of the roof. With a couple more handholds, the spindly robot arms lowered the domed contraption snugly into its dock. It looked like a huge dinner tray at a fancy restaurant. A semicircular door hissed as its seals cracked open. Clouds of vapor poured out along the ground. Bright interior lights silhouetted the looming form of a robot. This was it—the moment of attack!
“Here we go!” roared Gary, powering up his cannons.
Little Peep ducked and weaved through the air near Code, glowing a savage red. The fog-enshrouded robot stepped off the platform and emerged into the light. Gary and Code lunged forward, then stopped.
Before them was a tall, proud-looking butlerbot, dressed in an immaculate black suit. The creature stood upright on two long, impossibly thin legs. In a snooty voice, he made an announcement: “Attention. Lady Watterly’s evening voyage to the Celestial City is about to board. We will be pleased to serve dinner to our guests. Tonight’s appetizer is oil of vitriol, followed by an entrée of broiled circuit board and a dessert of light-emitting doodlebug soufflé. Our descent will return everyone just in time for the Disassembly, which will take place on the plains surrounding the Monolith Building. So, please, join us for your final evening on Mekhos. Welcome aboard. We hope you enjoy your last meal.”
Code and Gary looked at each other—this was going to be far easier than they had thought. Peep landed on Code’s shoulder, settling down to a pale green color.
With two sharp claps, the butler summoned several small serverbots, which ushered Code and Gary inside. The room was a dome with clear walls, dominated by a monumental dinner table surrounded by high-backed chairs. The places were immaculately set, with so many forks and spoons and plates and cups and goblets and napkins that Code couldn’t begin to imagine which piece of silverware would be the right one to start with. Then Code frowned, noticing that there were also forceps, scissors, magnifying glasses, nippers, tweezers, tongs, pliers, pincers, clips, and clamps.
Plus, one red-hot soldering iron.
Code and Gary mingled with a dozen or so chubby ladybots who had wheeled over from the HMS Affectacious. They towered above Code, wearing ostentatious monocles, shaggy blue wigs, and cosmetic upgrades—from tight, spot-welded mouths and cheeks to whole sets of sleek new arms attached to old, beaten-up frames. The oversized, overdressed ladybots glided around silently on well-oiled tank treads, but talked and laughed so loudly that Code’s voice couldn’t break through the din.
Then the doors snapped shut and the whole platform began a gut-wrenching ascent as the piston-driven arms outside grabbed hold of the Beamstalk and hoisted the platform higher and higher. Code glanced out the domed window and down at Mekhos.
What he saw was awe-inspiring. The sun was setting, but the landscape below buzzed with activity. Code saw immense creatures running across the landscape, sending up clouds of dust and wearing dirt paths into the ground. Code then zoomed his eyes onto one of the largest creatures: a mechanical brontosaurus the size of a football stadium, its broad back loaded with cargo. Meanwhile, thousands of cannon-launched robots landed on giant trampolines, bouncing gleefully to safe landings. The entire population of Mekhos was gathering below, industriously preparing for the end.
Peep made a sad chirp.
None of these robots seem upset about the Disassembly, thought Code. Why didn’t they try to fight? This whole world was an experiment gone out of control, he reminded himself. And every experiment had to end eventually. It was in every bot’s nature to accept its programming. But it wasn’t fair. The experiment had ended a long time ago. The original people who built this place were long gone. Immortalis was destroying Mekhos just to reopen the rifts and escape to Earth.
It’s up to me, thought Code. I’m the only one who can save this place now.
Feeling the reassuring tug of the arms outside lifting the platform up the Beamstalk, Code found his chair and climbed onto it. He stood on his chair and lea
ned his elbows on the enormous table. The ladybots—wearing all manner of frocks, capes, and dresses—stood behind their seats at the table, rigid and silent. Code self-consciously took his elbows off the table and stood up straight. Across the massive table, Gary politely closed down his finger cannons and winked at Code.
Peep fluttered down to the table. Without a word, the butlerbot marched over and used a pair of tweezers to drop a tiny place setting in front of her. Glowing a happy gold, she chirped at the collection of tiny plates and cups.
The table fell absolutely quiet. At the head of the table sat the thinnest, tallest, most sophisticated ladybot imaginable, arrayed in perfectly coordinated clothing and accessories: a floral-print dress, stylish sunglasses, a floppy hat, a gargantuan pink handbag, and a slew of jangling bracelets. She moved like a titanium ballerina and smiled like an aluminum angel. Every inch of her steel frame exuded grace, elegance, and poise. In exquisite calligraphy, a name card at her place setting read, “Lady Watterly.”
The magnificent Lady Watterly gave a nearly invisible nod of her head. The entire dinner party rolled forward in unison, docked with their chairs, and positioned their seats the same distance from the dinner table.
The robot giantess sitting next to Code noticed that his chair was off by a few millimeters. “Oh, my!” she murmured, scandalized, placing one claw over her primary mouth-speaker. From a secondary speaker mounted on the other side of her face, the giantess whispered to a friend, “This one hasn’t got any docking manners at all!”
To which her friend replied, “I can’t even imagine!” (As a simple robot, she meant this literally.)
Clearly hearing the entire conversation, Code said, “Oh, excuse me.” He tried to reach gracefully for a goblet and immediately knocked it over. The spilled liquid formed a pool that sizzled and smoked its way through the table. Mortified, Code tossed a napkin onto the acid spill. It instantly burst into flame and disappeared in a puff of smoke.