The scene wasn’t entirely bleak to the two watchers though: most of the hitchers with their cardboard signs were being picked up – there was something communal in the Robot hunters’ desires and disappointments, like fans of a failed football team still ferrying each other to each defeat.
And soon enough, a big maroon car chugged up to Beck and Chris. The window wound down,
‘I think you’re going our way?’ asked Ellie.
A kid with a backpack grabbed his stuff and went to follow them, before Beck said, as kindly as he could,
‘Sorry, buddy. No room.’
‘What d’you mean, no room? It’s bloody massive.’ He complained as they closed the doors on him. With Beck answering,
‘Trust me kid, you don’t want this ride.’
Chapter 78 – After the Fact
In a roadside diner early that evening, a TV News report played,
‘There was chaos and near-disaster today in the garrison town of Marsham. Many people had gathered after it was rumoured that the much-discussed “Robots” would be making contact with the American military base there today.
‘Eye-witness reports spoke of shots being fired in the town’s busy High Street, followed by a commotion as figures pushed pedestrians aside in a chase through the town. Thankfully no one was hurt, although a man who fainted was initially mistaken for a gunshot victim.
‘British Police and US Army personnel soon had the situation under control, and there was no repeat of the earlier scenes. It is not known if there were any arrests, or who had been involved in the disturbance. Although a US Military spokesperson confirmed that the gun fired was not one of theirs, and that US Army personnel were not involved in the subsequent chase.
‘The only thing we can be sure of,’ concluded the news reader, ‘is that another chapter in the mysterious story of “The Robots” has been written. This is one urban myth that, like the Robots themselves, if they do exist, refuses to die...’
‘A different street, a different café, and we’d have been home free...’ said Victor, who after two days of excitement had seen his first setback.
‘You can’t think like that,’ cheered Ellie. ‘They were all over the town. I saw at least two other agents join the chase.’
‘You were there?’ asked Beck, suddenly worried.
‘We’d only left the cafe a moment before, remember.’ She put her hand on his arm, ‘Don’t worry, we were well away from the action.’
‘So, what do we do now?’ asked Victor.
Beck answered,
‘Well, Victor, after you and I eat up, then we get to the car, park up and sleep. We need a couple of hours’ shut-eye, and Ellie and Chris will need to charge.’
‘I have new batteries in the boot,’ said Ellie.
‘But where do we go?’ asked Victor, still concerned.
‘It is a pointed question,’ added Beck. ‘I assume the actions of that madwoman have put to bed any lingering notion of us turning ourselves in? Anyway, Chris was even thinking we could just go again tomorrow. Chris? Chris?’
But Chris, who had been silent throughout, was still watching the TV screen, and appeared to be thinking very deeply. At last he spoke, but not to the table, instead calling to the woman serving at the counter. She was pointing the remote control at the television.
He asked her, ‘I wonder, could we keep it on the news for a while?’
She answered, ‘But the football’s on. The other patrons like it.’
Chris cast his gaze across the sea of empty tables. It rested on the singular truck driver tucking into sausage, egg and chips, who seemed entirely oblivious to the conversation until becoming the focus of it. Chris summarised,
‘On this occasion, I don’t believe the other patrons would mind.’
‘Have it your way,’ the woman answered, relenting and bringing the controller over to the group’s table.
There was no humour in Chris’s face though, as all the table now turned to see. A new headline had flashed up on the news channel, scrolling along the bottom of the screen with remorseless repetition:
‘...US ARMY RENOUNCE ALL INTEREST IN ROBOTS: “We didn’t meet with them,” says US spokesperson, “and would tell the UK Govt. if we did. We don’t believe that they exist...”’
Beck read and re-read that sub-headline with dismay. He looked to Chris, and saw the scales fall from his eyes. Beck tried to encourage him nonetheless,
‘It’s all just window dressing, making the right noises. We don’t know that the US won’t make another play, not when they got so close this time.’
‘You’re still hoping them Robots turn up?’ asked the serving woman, who Beck had completely forgotten was still standing beside them. He guessed that she was probably the establishment’s owner, given the freedom she allowed herself to abandon her counter.
‘We hope,’ smiled Ellie.
‘You’re on your way home then? My husband was there too. They say there was a shooting.’
Beck dreaded having to chat with the woman any longer, after already nearly giving them away. Yet, before the four were forced to engage in any further bluster, she drifted back to her serving station with all the ease of a satellite falling into orbit.
The news broadcast ended, to make way for the weather, and Chris honoured his intention of switching to the sport as soon as he was done. All were silent awhile, with only Beck’s teaspoon clanking against the cup. Outside a police siren approached; before receding just as quickly into the rural night.
Chris was the first to speak,
‘I have a very bad feeling. As a wildcard act it was brilliant, joyful; but after the shooting, I don’t think that even the Americans can play so fast and loose with our Government’s demands. I think they’ll be under too much pressure now to hand us in. I also think the media is too close – everyone’s watching what the Americans do.’
And there were a hundred other unspoken reasons for the group to lie low.
Ellie blurted, ‘Then I want to see Anna and Professor Schmidt, before we’re found out.’
And no one around the table could argue with this change of priorities.
Chapter 79 – At the Newspaper Office
Bruce was back at the Home and Features desk just as many others were leaving work. It was far too late for that afternoon’s London-only print run (for which he had already submitted a report over the phone), but not for the national edition, and never for the paper’s online presence – and his Editor was holding open the front page for the Robots.
‘So what the hell happened?’ he asked, as Bruce was just sitting down and unpacking. He had been sketching notes on his laptop on the journey back, but didn’t like to write his final copy on the move. He answered,
‘Officially, nothing – just a few enthusiasts getting, well... enthusiastic.’
‘And the gunshots?’
‘Well, no one’s saying anything about that.’
‘But in actuality?’
‘Well, we saw nothing ourselves – no one did, unless they happened to be outside of that cafe...’
(Even as he spoke, an assistant was tapping out his words. Bruce fell into unconscious copy-prose mode.)
‘The military aren’t speaking, beyond their press statement. But there are reports among eye-witnesses that something or someone made an appearance in the town around or just after noon. Certainly, a US Army vehicle was scrambled to the High Street where most of the crowd had gathered. Once there, its personnel calmed what looked for a moment as though it could have become an ugly situation.
‘It was a hot day, the crowd was simmering and ready for something. But what exactly sparked the disturbance is unclear. Crowd-members state that the Army response time was very quick, as if they had been kept on high alert. But the soldiers who arrived were not a part of the flurry of movement that ignited the scene.
‘There was much talk of gunshots – and two loud bangs were heard by this reporter – though the scene was so confused, th
at accounts of who fired the shots vary wildly. With the US Army denying responsibility, and the British Police not confirming whether they are pursuing anyone for any offence committed in Marsham today, then we are none the wiser as to who fired.
‘Along with the subsequent US statement of disbelief in the existence of the Robots, and disavowal of any interest in them, then this leaves it unlikely that we will learn any more from official sources for the time being. However, throughout the evening, this paper will be writing up the many interviews taken at the scene – look out for these on our online edition in the coming hours. Etcetera, etcetera.’
Bruce left his desk to fetch a cup of water from the other side of the room. Meanwhile, his boss was unsettled,
‘Kid, stop typing, go and grab yourself a coffee.’ (Which the assistant did do.) ‘Bruce, that’s no more than you phoned in hours ago. You’ve learnt nothing more?’
‘Well, I’ve been in the car ever since,’ he said, bringing the plastic cup back to his desk.
‘But there must be something. Between us two, what happened?’
Bruce knew there was more, and took an intake of breath before reporting,
‘There are claims of a figure.’
‘A figure?’
One among hundreds; but singular, tall, and moving through the busy pavements with lightning speed. Some say he was even pushing someone else along with him. Although he darted out of view before he could be caught.’
‘And his pursuers?’
‘I’ve no idea who they were. No one in uniform, at least...’
‘...and the British Police and the US Army aren’t saying anything?’ The Editor shook his head in disgust. ‘So give me some ifs, Bruce. Paint me a for-instance.’
‘Okay. If – if! – this quick figure was a Robot, then it means the Robots are real. Which means that yesterday’s press statement was real, and that they were in town to meet the US forces. Yet I can’t believe they’d want to meet in the busy street. So perhaps they were using the crowd as cover, and were interrupted before the meet itself could happen?
‘Meanwhile, the speed of the US Army’s appearance to quell the near-riot when it occurred, rather suggests that they had personnel on tenterhooks all through the town.’
‘A welcoming committee?’
‘It looks so. Though that’s rather been put on hold with their latest press statement; which I guess was written under pressure from our own Government, if you believe the rumours that it’s been they who’ve forced the Robots into hiding all this time.’
‘And are they still on the run?’
‘Oh, yes. A crowd would be the perfect cover for a humanoid simulacrum to make a getaway.’
‘A human-what?’ asked the Editor. ‘Never mind, go on.’
‘And a hundred witnesses saw no one being taken away but a couple of shady types in suits, a man and a woman...’
‘...and of course no one’s saying who they are?’
‘They seem to be a third party, perhaps our own agents. They may have known nothing more than the statement that we all read in the paper, and went there to spoil everyone’s fun.’
‘And they’re the shooters?’
Bruce nodded, ‘If my theory is right.’
The copy typist, now with his coffee, had been lingering by the door awaiting his summoning back into the room. Now the Editor said to Bruce,
‘Then you and your lad get this written up, rumours and all, just as you’re telling me.’
Bruce pleaded, ‘But rumour isn’t news, boss.’
‘Nonsense. It’s in the public interest, and it’s what our readers die for.’
Chapter 80 – Round Two with the Philosopher General
‘All diplomatic difficulties sorted out?’ asked the Prime Minster, this time meeting Eris at his palatial Outer-London home.
‘Yes, thank you, sir.’
It was late evening now, and he was enjoying a late, light dinner, his ‘One small perk’ as he put it. He smiled again, before remarking to his agent,
‘Though how ironic, after your concern for the artifs being put behind bars, that it was you and your assistant who found yourselves incarcerated.’ At this he chuckled, and nearly coughed up a mouth full of foie gras on wheat cracker, before washing it down with deep red wine. Eris was pointedly silent throughout. He soon resumed,
‘Still, you have to let me take what small joy I can from a situation that, in every other respect, was an unmitigated failure.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Despite a whole night to prepare, and with all the resources placed at your disposal, you managed not only to not locate the Robots – and after they had told us where they’d be! – but also further strain our relations with the Americans. Do you know what my colleagues in Government call them? “The Majority Shareholders”. And you have gone and had them have to make public denials on domestic British matters. Do you how much it pays us to have their bases on our soil? And not even monetarily, but in terms of influence and world standing?’
She didn’t know. But she did know that the question was rhetorical, and that staying silent would encourage him to finish his speech all the sooner.
‘And the worst of all,’ he resumed, ‘to somehow turn what we wanted to be a non-event instead into a media free for all. These “Robots” – people think they’re real now.’
‘People have always thought that.’
‘Yes, a few cranks and bloggers. But now they’ve gone mainstream. Eris, have you seen tomorrow’s Messenger? Well, check their website when you’ve gone. Oh, and they know that it was one of our own agencies doing the shooting.’
‘Really?’
‘A lucky guess most likely, by a talented team. But letting off your pistol – what were you thinking?’
‘A wrong move, sir. It won’t happen again.’
‘You were lucky – had anyone been hit, then a public enquiry would have finished us. And as for these artifs, well you mark my words: any more wrong steps, and you’ve got a Robot Barrow Gang on your hands.’
Again, another mouthful of cracker and another slurp of wine.
Eris chanced her arm with,
‘Though you did very well, sir, to have the Americans make their disavowal.’
She’d hoped the flattery would help, and it did, the talk becoming less confrontational and more conversation after that. In which spirit, the PM responded,
‘Yes, thank you. Though it took all of my influence, and I’ll be paying for it for a while. So, what did they tell you at the base?’
Here Eris could at last get into the gossip, and with the most confidential man in the land,
‘Well, here’s the funny thing, sir. The events in the High Street were a sideshow.’
‘How so?’
‘Well, there were soldiers at the base being debriefed when I was... brought in. I heard them talking, and two of them had met a man who – if I remember their own words – “Cut his arm open, and it was full of these... black snakes.”’
The Philosopher General paused over his supper, commenting,
‘That doesn’t sound much like a robot to me, more like a magic trick.’
Eris explained, ‘The “snakes” are the electro-variable-plastic they use as muscle. I imagine if your arm was opened up it would spill out what looked like a lot of red snakes that perform roughly the same function.’
‘Really?’ He mumbled with his mouth full, not at all put off. ‘And this must have been before your own encounter?’
‘Yes. Apparently the “snake” man told the soldiers to return in half an hour. I believe I caught him back in town when he came to fetch Beck.’
‘You as good as walked into them, you said?’
‘As large as life, right before me – and the speed he moved...’
‘And how do you feel to have met one? An artif?’
‘I have to say, enriched, sir.’
‘Enriched? Yes, it must have been something special. And do we know which one i
t was?’
Eris smiled, ‘Almost certainly Model-C, sir. Christopher. He was as tall as the hooded man in the bicycle store robbery video, and we know that Chris was built slightly taller than the others. He was also trained by the Americans to be skilled in diplomatic dealings.’
‘A natural leader. And possibly with sympathies for all things Yankee Doodle Dandy.’
The Philosopher General ate awhile before resuming,
‘I envy you, meeting one of them. Though I met Schmidt. A clever man. Under the right circumstances he could have been brilliant.’
‘The right circumstances?’
‘Had he managed this properly, and come to us right at the start, allowed us to have drawn up the legislation.’
Eris feared a return to the unhappy territory of their previous discussion. But the man was smiling, probably as much from his supper as from the details she had offered him. He concluded,
‘Be back tomorrow with more for me.’
And she left to do just that.
Chapter 81 – Long Night of the Soul / Thinking about Schmidt
Leaving the diner, all four members of the group looked around themselves. They had picked the diner for its very isolation. Now they stood beneath the night sky, with the only thing for miles being the singular eatery. An engine sounded behind them, but the car sped past before any had chance to react.
The cool deserted carpark seemed as good a place as any for the conversation all were ready for,
‘I’ll start,’ said Beck. ‘I think the key is these trips that Schmidt was taking with Anna.’
‘Quite right,’ concurred Chris. ‘He knew that something was up and wanted to save her.’
‘So what did he say to anyone when they went away?’
Ellie answered, ‘That the break would be good for her, that he’d take her to see the sights.’
‘What sights?’ asked Beck; to which Chris answered,
‘With hindsight, it’s clear he was being as vague as possible.’
‘He loved sightseeing though, didn’t he,’ remembered Ellie. ‘He would talk of buying a house every time he found a nice town, of retiring there, of setting us up there. He never went anywhere passively, he treated holiday destinations as canvasses for his future plans.’