fell, only having sprayed a couple of times. The nanites slithered up their legs and tails, clinging with magnetic fury. In their wake, the mech’s joints froze while other mechs sprayed their fallen comrades, sealing friend and foe in deadly embrace. Other mechs were only crippled or acted erratically, the nanite slime discoloring and bubbling on their exoskeleton like leprosy. As this apparent disease progressed, the sores oozed with nanite-contaminated fluid. Two of the injured mechs, covered their own wounds in foam, but as soon as they did, they were overrun by the nanites they were spraying.
“Prometheus, are you sure we can’t help them?”
“Insufficient information: I don’t know the full capabilities or weaknesses of the forger nanites.”
“Don’t you have full nexus access?”
“I have full nexus access to scientific documents and military documents with clearance level three and below. The forger nanites are class six.”
When Kutisha looked at the hologram again, the battle seemed to have ended with only one mech standing. It surveyed the area, spraying down surviving pockets of nanites. How it could be sure it got all of them? The news reports said the nanites were microscopic and only visible when they swarmed. She bit her lip. The lone mech walked over to the lab entrance. It was equipped with an intercom speaker and video. The mech pressed the button to activate it.
Kutisha waved away the bird’s eye view on the hologram, and a larger than life-sized image of its metallic face popped up in three-dimensional color. She jerked back. The head was short from forehead to chin but jutted forward like a dog or lizard’s and was smooth on the top like a helmet. It had one long slit for eyes that swept from one side to the other like a medieval helmet. She didn’t trust it. Computers shouldn’t walk. To her, it was just a bigger version of the nanites. She would be just as happy if it had been covered with the foam like the rest of them.
The mech leaned forward, and Kutisha was surprised to hear it speak. It didn’t even have a jaw. It must have used some sort of speaker under its chin where a slight red glow appeared when it spoke. “If anyone’s in there,” it said, “please open up.” His voice had that type of easy -going authority that Kutisha liked, but her distain for walking AIs overshadowed any affinity she would have held toward it.
Kutisha hesitated, and then on an impulse she pressed the intercom button. “Shouldn’t you stay out there and make sure you got them all?”
“I am Corporal B2-9E, Infantry Mech Class 3 Shock Trooper attached to Epsilon Cell of the Grande Comore Unit. We were sent to secure this lab. You can call me Corporal B ... or just mech if you like, since,” it looked around, “since I’m the last one.”
Kutisha looked at the nanite and mech carcasses. “What are you going to do if I let you in?”
The mech said, “You may not know this, but there’s another nanite swarm coming up this mountain. They’ll be here in less than ten minutes. My reinforcements won’t arrive for another twenty-three.”
“How do I know you’re not infected by the nanites?”
“I can break down this door if I have to.”
Kutisha released the intercom button and looked up at the ceiling. Sensing her question, Prometheus said, “Those doors were designed to keep older mechs out. It seems they have improved somewhat. I would suggest letting it in, otherwise a broken door will let the nanites in.”
“I would rather have the nanites,” Kutisha said.
“I would rather have the mech,” Prometheus answered.
“Look,” the mech said, “if you’re afraid I’ve been taken over by the nanites, it’s not possible. Even if they did, they have a simple hive mind. Their rudimentary tactics don’t allow for interpersonal deception, like me lying to you.”
Kutisha rubbed her temples trying to coax out a clear decision.
“That is logical,” Prometheus said.
She glanced at the speaker. “Are you two working together?”
The mech turned and looked off camera. “Listen lady, the nanites wouldn’t stand here arguing with you. For God’s sake, let me in.”
She pressed the intercom button. “Oh, a mech that believes in God. That I have to see.” Turning to the ceiling, she said, “Prometheus, open the door.”
“I cannot. The lockdown protocol disengages computer control of all access points.”
“Who’s stupid idea was that?” she asked.
“It was a safeguard against an AI revolt.”
The thought of having to open the door for this thing petrified her, but if it was her only protector until reinforcements arrived, she might have no choice.
She grabbed her nexus pad, keyed it into the security camera, and half jogged down the corridor to the entrance. The hallway, which was usually well-lit with bright white lights, was dimly lit with red. She assumed it was because of the lockdown, but decided to spare herself the history lesson and didn’t bother to ask Prometheus. She passed dark, empty offices on either side. It felt like she was walking through a blood-stained mausoleum. She half expected to see their daytime occupants peek out at her as she passed, and she wished they would. At least that way they could help her confront the mech.
Trying to keep up conversation to calm her nerves, she said, “So how long have you believed in God, Corporal?” She didn’t expect an answer.
“Ever since my first battle,” it said in a softer tone. “Some say nature brings us closer to God. For me, it was near death experiences.”
Kutisha laughed. “Since when did they start programming mechs with philosophy?”
“Ever since Aristotle used the Archimedean water screw.”
“Someone obviously screwed up your humor programming,” she said. “So, why are the nanites picking on my lab?”
“They might be going after AI units. No one knows why; perhaps seeking symbiosis. According to our record, you have two AIs on premises.”
“Your records are wrong. We only have one. So how did they get loose?”
“It was an accident, a leak. The slurry coalesced into three swarms and attacked us.”
Avoiding the obvious questions about the exact nature of the accident, she asked, “Who won?”
“We did, but many shock troopers perished. Now there is just one swarm left.”
She slowed her pace as she approached the entrance. The door was large enough for two people to enter shoulder to shoulder and had redundant locks and air seals. There was no window for her to look through, but she felt the mech’s menacing presence. It was enough for her to have second thoughts. What if the mech really is possessed by the nanites? If the mech had the ability to communicate so well with humans, wouldn’t the nanite hive-mind be able to commandeer those subroutines? Why else would it be so desperate to get in here?
Before she had a chance to release the airlock, she heard a hissing sound, her ears popped, and the outside air carried a burnt-toast odor.
“Air pressure equalized,” Prometheus said. The door cracked open.
“What? Did you do that, Prometheus?”
“Better the mech than the nanites.”
“You said you couldn’t.”
“I lied,” he said.
“Oh, you are so going to be reformatted.”
Gripping the nexus pad, her knuckles turned white as the mech stepped in. It bent its head down as it entered. Kutisha swallowed hard. This thing is a good deal taller than it looked on the hologram. She only came up to its chest, and its snakelike torso was much thinner than hers. It made a thud-scrape sound when it walked through the door; some kind of soft polymer covered its heels, knees, and palms, but the claws on its toes raked across the hard floor. She studied the rest of it with intensity, taking note of the interlocking segments along its torso and tail, its long claws, and its cold, metallic face. Perhaps it was because it was inside her territory, her own lab, that it appeared more menacing. The door slammed and sealed shut behind it with a hiss of finality.
When the mech first turned its head to look it her, it r
eeled back. It was difficult to read its body language, if it had any. It might have been coiling back like a snake for all she knew. Then it just stared at her. It didn’t say or do anything else, and as the seconds stretched out to what seemed like a minute, she fidgeted under its metallic leer.
“What,” she asked, choosing humor over panic. “Did you break?”
It leaned its head forward on its long neck only centimeters away from Kutisha’s nose. The soft red glow flickered beneath its chin with each syllable. “What is your name?”
“Kutisha.”
“Do you have a husband?”
Kutisha backed off for more personal space. “What kind of question is that? Are they programming you with the ability of sexual harassment?”
“No. In case you don’t survive, we will notify the next of kin.”
Kutisha looked away, folding her arms. “I had a husband. But he died thanks to the military.”
“Your husband died? How?”
“That is none of your business. Are you a battle mech or a psychologist?”
The mech straightened up. “Is there anything in the building we can use to hold off the next swarm?”
“Please. This is a research facility.”
“An explosively pumped coaxial flux compression generator?”
Kutisha winced. “A what?”
“I take that as a negative. How about a propellant driven MHD generator?”
Kutisha shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Aren’t you a scientist?”
Was that a note of frustration in the mech’s voice? That