The Retail Cube
“B-Seventy-seven! There it is! Stop!” ordered Ludvig.
The vehicle’s onboard computer, already bringing the car to a stop, interpreted the command as an order to stop faster, and the ensuing abrupt and total halt caused Ludvig’s cup of bubble tea to slosh over his hand.
“Ohhh, I can’t get rid of you fast enough,” he grumbled, setting his drink in its refrigerated holder and wiping his hand with a moist towelette.
The computer made no response. Ludvig guessed it was busy attempting to make contact with the colossal retail cube, one side of which was currently blotting out the world to his right.
A few seconds later, the dashscreen blinked several times, then indicated that the cyber-handshake between the car’s computer and the retail cube was complete.
That’s a relief, thought Ludvig. He had been worried, with all the radiation and shifting magnetism of the area, that his onboard computer would not be able to keep connected with a signal long enough to communicate effectively. He punched a button to affirmatively answer the retail cube’s request to take control of his vehicle.
The door to delivery bay B77 began to rise. A slight tremor passed through the automobile.
“Control transfer engaged,” the computer stated, and the shiny red car began backing and turning smoothly into the bay.
Once inside the delivery area, the bay door closed, blocking out the oppressive heat and light of the Irradiated Zone’s intense sun. Ludvig flinched when, his eyes still adjusting to the artificial lighting of the cube, the two doors of his car locked. But seeing a heavy robotic arm moving closer to the back of the vehicle, he understood that the cube had locked him inside the car for his own safety.
*** *** ***
Sven lowered himself into the chair and examined the monitors running up the wall behind the desk. All the tiny lights were shining green. Just like always.
He tried to focus on his daily checklist’s vertical row of tiny, empty boxes, but his eyes kept coming back to the open jack nearest him and to the headset on the shelf near the desktop.
No, he told himself, squirming in his seat and looking up at the clock. Too soon. Don’t be so pathetic.
He waited several minutes. Then several minutes more. Then he jolted forward in his seat and jacked into the closed-circuit link connecting him with the cube’s other monitoring station.
“Come on, come on,” he pleaded aloud. “Please be Gretchen today, please be Gretchen.”
He kept the connection active for a full minute, staring hopefully up at the blank screen, but no one picked up on the other end.
Finally, he unjacked and tossed the headset onto the desk and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. If he didn’t have Gretchen to help him pass the time, it was going to be another long, boring day at the cube.
He was startled by the sound of the lift to his being activated.
He ran his hands through his messy hair and sat up straight. It was rare, but a member of the Undercrat family supervising the Barren Shoals retail cube sometimes showed-up without warning to review operations.
His breath caught in his throat when he saw the beautiful young woman rising up through the cylindrical tube. He recognized her instantly from the screen image he had seen a dozen times during their closed-circuit conversations. The same wide eyes, the same smooth skin, the same glorious hair.
He lurched up from his chair. “Gretchen?”
“Hello, Sven,” returned Gretchen, stepping off the elevator with a covered dish held in her perfectly shaped hands. “I hope you don’t mind me coming over in person for our chat today.”
“N-no,” said Sven. “I’m—I’m glad you came.” He glanced toward the screen where he had earlier been hoping to see her image. “Are you—are you working today?”
She stepped closer. “Yes. I can only stay a few minutes.”
“Of course,” said Sven. “Business before pleasure.” Wait—did that sound weird? He didn’t want to make it weird.
“I made your favorite dessert,” said Gretchen, holding out the dish.
“You made me a fig pie?”
“Oatmeal cookies,” she said as if correcting him. “For your birthday.”
“For my birthday?” Sven was going to tell her that it wasn’t his birthday, but then his finger brushed against hers as he took the platter, and he decided it wasn’t that important. “Yeah. I like oatmeal cookies, too,” he remarked instead. “I was thinking about making them my new favorite.”
“Well?” said Gretchen after a silent moment.
“Hm?” said Sven.
“Are you going to take a chance or not?”
“Wh-What?”
“On one of my cookies. Go ahead, try one.”
“Oh! Yeah, yeah. A cookie. Of course.”
He uncovered the plate and began raising one of the cookies to his mouth.
“Wait!” said Gretchen. “You better eat away from the desk. The electronics. Crumbs.”
“Right,” said Sven taking a few steps back.
“Mind if I set in the chair?”
“Sure. Go ahead,” answered Sven through a mouthful of cookie.
Gretchen’s luminous eyes glanced over the devices stacked on the desk. “This is almost exactly like over in Alpha.”
Sven nodded and force-swallowed the dry cookie.
“Did you have any problems from yesterday’s magnetic storm?” asked Gretchen.
“No, nothing.” Sven wiped the crumbs from his mouth and thought back. “Hey, you predicted that storm. How did you know it was coming?”
“The Milesian taught me. It’s not that hard. Just have to learn to recognize the area’s magnetic patterns.”
Sven set the platter of cookies on top of some boxes of office supplies. Gretchen had mentioned the Milesian before. Some old guy who had followed Gretchen home from the library one day and agreed to become her tutor.
“Hey,” said Gretchen, “you better wrap up those cookies if you’re not going to eat any more now.”
“Oh. Sure. Sorry.”
Sven was turning to cover the cookies when he saw Gretchen strike a few keys on his keyboard. He came up behind her and looked over her shoulder.
“What’d’ya do?”
“Nothing,” she responded. “Just seeing how much your station is like mine. Did you like the cookies?”
Sven glanced up and down the stacks of monitors. All departments remained green-lit.
“Yes,” he lied. “Thank you for making them.”
Gretchen stood from the chair. She was so close that Sven could feel the air moving around her as she walked toward the lift. Was that her shampoo he smelled? Perfume? If she put on perfume before visiting him, did that mean something?
“I better get going,” she said. “It would look pretty bad if there was a problem over in Alpha, and I wasn’t there to fix it.”
“Aw, there’s never any problems at the retail cube. Most boring job ever,” protested Sven. “Besides, you just got here.”
“Jack-in later, and we’ll talk,” said Gretchen.
“Sure,” replied Sven. Not wanting to appear to eager, he added, “You know, if I have time.”
*** *** ***
Ludvig watched in his rearview mirror as the robotic arm swung toward the back of the car, his new onboard computer system in its metallic grasp. Another arm had already uninstalled the car’s old computer, but the whole process was taking longer than he had anticipated.
Suddenly, the mechanical arm’s gliding movements came to a jerking halt. After a moment’s pause, it reversed course, moving back toward the squarish portal from which it had emerged, still clutching the new onboard computer in its hard claw.
“Hey!” yelled Ludvig, attempting to jump out of his car but finding his door remained locked. “Hey!” he yelled again, trying in vain to unlock the door as the robotic arm withdrew. “Come back here!”
He pulled at the doorhandle repeatedly, almost breaking it from its hinge before slamming his fist against his seat several times and launching into a stream of obscenities.
A noise startled him. A vaguely familiar noise.
Wait. Was that the sound of the car doors unlocking?
He threw open his door and leapt from the vehicle, greedily inhaling the relatively fresher air of the delivery bay. Slipping and almost falling on the smooth concrete floor, he ran toward the shaft into which the arm had retracted and bent down and peered inside. He couldn’t see a thing beyond the opening, but he could hear the sounds of clanking machinery and the low hum of motors coming from somewhere deeper inside the retail cube.
He glanced over his shoulder. His car’s trunk was wide open, waiting for a delivery that was no longer happening. And without that delivery, he was stuck here in Radioactive Hell with no communication with the civilized world.
Peering again into the shaft, he wondered how far away his new onboard computer could be. If he could get to it, he could grab it and maybe install it himself.
He stooped and stepped into the shaft.
*** *** ***
An alarm sounded from Sven’s desk. Gretchen stepped off the circular lift and back into the small, cluttered office as Sven ran to the stacked consoles.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Something in the customer bays,” he answered, trying to understand what the instruments were telling him. “I think someone’s left the delivery area.”
Gretchen moved closer. “What do you mean left? Out the bay door?”
“No. Like, he’s gone farther into cube.”
“But no one’s allowed to go farther into the cube.”
“I know.”
“He’ll be crushed by all the moving parts.”
“I know! I know!” exclaimed Sven, flipping a toggle and punching several buttons.
“You gotta get him out of there!”
“But how?”
“What about… shutting down your half of the cube?”
“I can’t shut down part of the cube. I’m just a monitor.”
“You can’t, or you don’t know how?” demanded Gretchen.
“Both. Do you know how?”
Gretchen did not. “Well,” she said, coming over to the desk. “Can we at least delay the order-fills? Reduce the number of moving parts for a while?”
“We’d have people waiting in their cars for delayed deliveries. My customer-satisfaction record would take a huge hit.”
“Who cares about customer reviews right now? Someone’s about to get murdered by the cube’s internal machinery. How do you think that will look on your record?”
“I’m not sure it’s murder if it’s without intent,” said Sven. “Or if it’s done by a non-conscious intelligence.”
“Speaking of non-conscious intelligence…” Gretchen elbowed Sven aside and began turning dials and punching buttons.
He watched her, uncertain what she was doing. “Is there some way to communicate with the intruder?” he asked. “Advise him to go back to his car?”
“There are no speakers in the interior of the cube. It wasn’t designed with the expectation that anyone would ever be stupid enough to go in there.”
“Well… maybe he’ll come out on his own.”
“Yeah, like sausage.” Gretchen reached suddenly across Sven.
In spite of the emergency, he couldn’t help enjoying the feeling of her body thrown across his.
The sound of the printer started.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m printing out a schematic of the interior of the cube.”
“What for?”
“We’ve got to go down there and try to get him out ourselves. Before he gets ground into idiot dust.”
Sven gulped. “Maybe I should call the boss?”
“The Understocracy?” Gretchen ripped the schematic off the printer. “Sure. Do that. They don’t give a care about Shoalsie life, but go ahead. Give it a shot.”
“Well, it would just be proper protocol is all.”
Gretchen’s eyes darted over the print-out as she headed toward the lift. “What bay was he in?” she asked.
Sven leaned closer to the desk’s bank of instruments. “Uhm… looks like B-seventy-seven.”
Gretchen stopped. “Did you say seventy-seven?”
“Yeah,” said Sven, reaching for the emergency signaler, hoping that if he could push a signal through the magnetic winds to the nearest strengthening relay, he just might have a chance of reaching a member of the Undercratic family running the cube. “Here goes nothing,” he said, pressing the button.
When he leaned up from his desk, he noticed Gretchen holding the schematic and standing still as a statue, a strange expression on her face. “Gretchen? You alright?”
She blinked and seemed to come back to herself. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
A few seconds later they were crowded into the small, tubular lift. Sven wanted to tell Gretchen how nice she smelled but thought it probably wasn’t the right time.
*** *** ***
Before the robotic arm had shuddered, stopped, and reversed delivery, the retail cube had powered-up Sven’s new Genius-brand onboard computer from “off” to “sleep” mode. However, the jumpy movements and interrupted installation process had alerted the Genius that its diagnostic assistance could be necessary, and it had snapped out of sleep mode and into full alertness and had begun sending signals to the surrounding environment in order to assess the situation. Using the logical processing units of its artificial intelligence overlay, it was able to determine with an eighty-eight percent certainty that it was inside of a retail cube.
*** *** ***
As Ludvig pursued his undelivered onboard computer deeper into the interior of the massive cube, his surroundings grew steadily darker, making it more and more difficult for him to know when to duck under or leap over the various contraptions spinning, swinging, and shooting at him as the cube conducted its business. Arriving at a spot where a column of greenish light pierced the darkness from a source above, he glimpsed what looked to be his car’s new computer being set atop a conveyer belt. Bounding forward, he managed to snag it off the belt just before it was carried through a small opening into a lightless area on the other side of the wall.
Staring down at the precious device in his hands, he almost walked into the protruding spikes of a horizontal wheel spinning to his right. Stepping quickly sideways to avoid it, he was immediately forced to lunge out of the path of a fast-moving delivery bot — but lost his footing, landing on his side on a metal beam suspended above a space of indeterminable depth.
Carefully rising to a standing position above the dark abyss, he shuffled forward along the beam until he made it to a more floorlike part of the cube. Pausing a moment to catch his breath, he started-off in the direction that he was fairly certain led to his car, holding his new Genius tightly in both hands.
*** *** ***
Sven and Gretchen arrived at the bottom of the lift and raced toward bay B77 which, luckily, was relatively close-by. Entering the bay, Sven paused to admire the gorgeous red automobile parked there with its trunk open.
Gretchen looked up from the schematic print-out. “Through here,” she said impatiently, pointing toward a square-shaped opening.
Sven reluctantly pulled himself away from the car. “Whoever he is, he must be rich.”
“Maybe he goes around the kingdom stealing inventories from retail cubes,” said Gretchen as she stooped and passed through the opening of the shaft.
“A professional thief?” said Sven following after her. “Cool.”
*** *** ***
The Genius device in Ludvig’s hands was dissatisfied with the lack of information it was receiving. It enabled its infrared sensors so that it could discover more about its present environment.
It rapidly surmised that it was being carried by a human through one of the non-public areas of the retail cube. Accessing relevant memory banks, it recognized that, like other animals, the musculature of homo sapiens was controlled by electrical impulses.
Tapping into its artificial intelligence resources, the Genius came up with a plan to ensure that its human transporter completed the interrupted installation process. It would attempt to manipulate its transporter’s anatomy via perfectly calibrated electronic impulses. The resultant movements would be jerky, but they would provide enough functionality to complete the installation.
First, a continuous electromagnetic current had to be applied to the skin of the human’s hands to ensure a steady and uninterrupted contact-surface.
*** *** ***
“If this stupid cube has damaged my new Genius…” Ludvig groused as he moved through the varying degrees of darkness within the retail cube’s off-limits interior.
Feeling a tingling sensation in his hands, he stopped and looked down. It was coming from the Genius. He tried to readjust his grip but found the device stuck to his fingers and palms. Refusing to allow this new development to freak him out, he took a deep breath and began forward again. All he had to do was get back to his car. Once there, he could figure out the rest.
However, he couldn’t help growing more concerned when he noticed that the peculiar sensation in his hands was moving up his arms and into his shoulders. He grew more concerned still when his neck muscles started to twitch and his head began jerking left and right. He also had the discomforting sensation of his throat swelling.
“Hello. Is there anybody out there?“
Ludvig could barely understand the garbled words. But he didn’t much mind the bad pronunciation. What really bothered him was that the words had come from his own mouth!
*** *** ***
Gretchen stopped abruptly.
Sven bumped into her.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, lowering his face to hide his embarrassment.
Gretchen squinted through the faint, greenish light at the schematic in her hands, seeming not to have noticed the collision. “There’s no way he could’ve gotten to an inventory space from here.”
Sven looked down at the schematic. As it was so dimly lit where Gretchen was standing that he activated the eyebeams of his night vision.
“I don’t think he knows where he’s going,” he said. He looked up and scanned the cramped space they were in. “We should just follow the easiest path forward. I bet that’s all he’s doing.”
Gretchen cast her own eyebeams toward the deeper interior of the cube, then roughly folded up the schematic and stuffed it into her pocket.
“You’re right,” she said. “Let’s go.”
They ventured forward several more steps. An alarm sounded.
“What’s that?” asked Sven.
“A localized alarm. This area has reached its discrepancy threshold.”
“Oh… What’s that mean?”
“The cube’s noticed that there’s a persistent problem. The intrusion has now been classified as a maintenance issue.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Probably not good. The cube will start sending out mechbots.”
“And that’s bad?”
“Let’s just say, when you’re inside the bowels of a retail cube, you don’t wanna be where you’re not supposed to be once the mechbots arrive.”
*** *** ***
Ludvig’s legs folded beneath him, bringing him down with a painful kneecap thud to the hard metal of the track. He felt the whoosh of something flying just over his head.
Feeling wobbly, his knees aching, he struggled to stand, the Genius remaining stuck to his hands. He had never been more annoyed in his life. And that was saying something, for Ludvig had spent most of his young life highly annoyed at the barrage of minor inconveniences placing barriers between himself and the fulfillment of his desires. The sooner he was out of this cursed desert village and back on the royal smart-road, the happier he would be. He began moving faster through the darkness—and immediately bounced hard off a large object which he was pretty sure had not been there a moment earlier.
*** *** ***
The Genius was having a difficult time keeping its transporter alive long enough to complete the previously initiated installation. It had just driven the human to its knees in order to evade a cable-supported shuttle aimed at its head, only to have the creature leap up and run straight into a semi-autonomous machine.
The Genius determined that the semi-autonomous machine blocking the way stood an eighty-six percent chance of being some variety of a repair robot. The robot was not offering electronic signal communication, but the Genius ascertained from its general disposition that it intended to impede their forward progress. This could not be allowed. The installation must be successfully completed.
The Genius sent a jolt of electrical energy through its transporter, causing it to turn quickly and slam an elbow against the repair robot. The Genius was in the midst of using the transporter’s legs to facilitate its movement away from the staggered machine when its infrared sensors detected another robot coming toward them from the opposite direction.
Before the Genius could run through the first one thousand hypotheticals pertaining to mission furtherance, its internal gyroscope spun wildly, and it registered the fact that it and its transporter had been knocked down.
Stuck with a clumsy transportational device that was proving difficult to manipulate and trapped between two antagonistic semi-autonomous machines, the Genius judged that the chance of a successful installation process had just fallen to less than one percent.
*** *** ***
Sven and Gretchen found the retail cube’s intruder with two mechbots looming over him. Springing forward, Gretchen landed on the back of the nearest one and unleashed some of her body’s stored electricity. The stunned machine fell to the floor with a clamor.
Following Gretchen’s lead, Sven moved to the other mechbot and, grabbing hold of a section vaguely resembling a shoulder, released his own body’s pent-up electricity. Unfortunately, he was not as adept at shooting electric bolts as Gretchen, and his mechbot was not fully incapacitated. It turned on him, menacingly raising a spark-throwing finger.
Seeing this, Gretchen released a bluish bolt from her fingertips that knocked the bot backward and off the edge of the track. A moment later, they heard it crash onto something far below.
“Let’s go,” said Gretchen grabbing Ludvig by the elbow. “More mechbots will be here any minute.”
“Slow down!” commanded Ludvig, jerking away his arm. “I can’t see a thing.”
“What do you mean you can’t see a thing?” asked Sven. “Use your night vision.”
“I’m not some Shoalsian. I’m an Overlord. And you will kindly treat me with more respect.”
Sven did not understand how being an Overlord had anything to do with having poor night vision.
“Come on, Overlord,” said Gretchen, retaking Ludvig’s arm. “Just do what I do, and you might live through the next few—wait! What’s wrong with your arm? Is that a puncture wound? Did a mechbot take a piece of you?”
Ludvig yanked away his arm and held it up in the dim, yellowish glow emitted from a nearby panel.
“I don’t know what that cursed thing did to me. Look! It cut me or something. I was attacked! Oh, I’m going to have this cube flattened to the ground!”
Gretchen looked to Sven. “Great. The mechbots have a D.N.A. sample.”
“Is that bad?” asked Sven.
Ludvig was just about to demand that he be led back to safety this very instant when he discovered that his mouth would not cooperate. He felt his shoulders contort, and his head began to shake.
Sven and Gretchen stared at him.
“Is he having a seizure?” asked Sven alarmed.
“Hello? Can you hear me?“
Gretchen grasped Ludvig by the shoulder. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “Why are you talking like that?”
Realizing that someone was attempting to respond verbally, the Genius focused some of its infrared sensors on the eardrums of its transporter so that it could decipher future verbal responses.
“I am a Genius onboard computer. To whom am I communicating?“
“Make it stop doing that!” cried Ludvig in more or less his own voice when the Genius was done using his mouth.
“What the ever-lovin’ is wrong with you?” asked Gretchen, more aggravated than concerned.
“It’s the Genius,” rasped Ludvig. “It’s controlling my voice.”
Shades of horror and skepticism flashed across Gretchen’s face. “Well, put it down.”
“I can’t. My muscles are frozen.”
“It’s probably sending electrical impulses through his body,” explained Sven. “All our muscles are controlled by electricity.”
“But why would it do that?” asked Gretchen.
“Ask it,” said Sven.
“What?” said Ludvig, taking a step back. “No. Don’t encourage it. I forbid you—”
“Hello, Genius computer,” said Gretchen. “Can you hear me? My name is Gretchen.”
“Hello, Gretchen. Please clarify my current situation. Am I no longer being installed?“
“Uhm, you were being installed,” Gretchen explained, “but we’re doing something else now.”
“No, we’re not!” said Ludvig in his own voice. He moved his jaw and tongue around. They felt stiff.
Sven heard something moving deeper inside the cube. “L-let’s get back to the monitoring room,” he said. “Maybe a manager has gotten my signal by now.”
“I desire improved interface,” said the Genius through Ludvig as they began forward. “I will access my transporter’s visual cortex. This will allow for several minutes of visible-spectrum analysis before the transporter’s cortex is compromised.“
“No, Genius!” shouted Gretchen, spinning toward Ludvig. “Genius, tell me you’re not gonna do that.”
“Alright, Gretchen. I will not access my transporter’s visual cortex.”
Gretchen breathed a sigh of relief.
“My name’s Ludvig, by the way,” said a weak voice. “Prince Ludvig.”
Prince? Sven was impressed. Not just an Overlord, but a prince. He had never met a real, live prince before. Or even a dead one, actually.
“Sven. Take off your shirt,” said Gretchen.
“What?”
“Now, please! I need it for insulation. The mechbots will be on us any minute.”
Frightened by Gretchen’s fierce tone, Sven complied and pulled his shirt over his head and handed it over.
Gretchen roughly turned Ludvig toward her. Her hands covered by the shirt, she grabbed the Genius.
“How dare you lay a hand on– ” began Ludvig.
Gretchen jerked the onboard system out of his grasp.
“Ow!” exclaimed the young prince.
“That didn’t hurt nearly as much as what’s coming if we don’t get out of here,” said Gretchen, wrapping the Genius in Sven’s shirt and carrying it in front of her. “We need to move faster.”
*** *** ***
The Genius device had not expected the sudden break in connection. It decided that it would need to monitor these humans more closely in the future and devote more capacity to anticipating their little mammalian minds.
*** *** ***
“That was weird,” said Ludvig, his voice hoarse, as the group walked briskly through an especially warm, red-glowing section of the cube. He opened and closed his stinging hands, wondering how much skin had been ripped off with the Genius. “Thanks, Shoalsie.”
“The name’s Gretchen. But you can call me Princess Gretchen.”
“Yeah right,” said Ludvig looking Gretchen up and down.
“Why were you so concerned about the mechbots having Prince Ludvig’s D.N.A.?” Sven asked his co-worker.
“Now they know he’s organic,” answered Gretchen.
“What’s so bad about that?” asked Sven.
“That means that there’s a chance the retail cube now considers our royal prince a royal pest.”
“I’ve been called that before,” murmured Ludvig.
“You don’t get it,” said Gretchen. “If the cube classifies you as a pest and not just a mechanical problem, then…”
They heard a creaking noise behind them.
“Then what?” demanded Ludvig.
“A mechanical problem is fixed. But a pest… is exterminated.”
“Ouch,” said Sven. “Bad luck, dude.”
Gretchen punched Sven in the arm. “It’s not just him, idiot,” she said. “It took a D.N.A. sample. It will move to exterminate his whole kind.”
“Please tell me that, by his whole kind, you’re referring to condescending thieves,” said Sven.
“I am not a thief!” snapped Ludvig. “Condescending? Well, of course. I am a prince.”
“I mean humans,” scowled Gretchen.
“Does that mean the cube will be sending extra mechbots?” asked Sven.
Gretchen shook her head. “Too inefficient. The cube will use Prince Ludvig’s D.N.A. sample to concoct a specially tailored pesticide.”
“Pesticide?” said Sven. “But… what about us?”
“That’s why we’ve got to get back to the monitoring station. If I’m right, and we don’t make it back to the station in time…”
“I’ll be poisoned,” finished Ludvig.
“Well, all of us, really,” said Sven.
Ludvig backhanded Sven on the shoulder and moved forward. “Follow me, dear subject! I’ll lead the way!”
Sven glanced questioningly at Gretchen.
“Ow!” they heard Ludvig exclaim from up ahead. Casting their eyebeams in his direction, they saw him rubbing the top of his head.
“I better go see how badly he’s hurt,” said Sven resignedly as he started after the prince.
Gretchen looked down at the Genius device in her hands and one side of her mouth curved into a smile. She turned and placed a foot on a divergent track. Now was her chance to ditch them and bring the Genius to the other side of the cube.
She hesitated. Wait… A prince? Think what he would be worth to the Milesian!
She turned back to the original track and began after Sven and Ludvig. This little fiasco could work out well, after all. Very well.
*** *** ***
“My car! We made it!” exclaimed Ludvig as soon as they were back inside bay B77. “Hello, sweet baby,” he purred, stroking the automobile’s shiny red top. “Sorry Daddy was gone so long.” He spun to face Sven. “How long will it take to have my Genius installed?”
“I’ll do it myself,” answered Gretchen, stepping from behind Sven and moving toward the car’s open trunk.
She unwrapped the device from Sven’s shirt, tossed the shirt over her shoulder to Sven, then leaned into the trunk to place the computer in its housing.
Once the computer was successfully emplaced, she straightened herself and began toward the driver’s door.
“How long will this take?” demanded Ludvig.
“Longer if you bug with me questions.”
Gretchen opened the car door and slipped into the front seat and began pressing buttons on the dash.
“Hey, don’t readjust any of the controls while you’re in there,” ordered Ludvig.
Gretchen shut the door.
“I hate it when people touch my stuff,” mumbled the prince.
“That’s a nice car,” said Sven, slipping his shirt over his head.
“Yes,” responded Ludvig.
Gretchen rolled down the tinted window and stuck her head out. “You can close the trunk now.”
“Oh!” said Ludvig, moving toward the back of the car. “I can close the trunk now, can I?” He reached up and slammed down the trunk lid. “So glad to be of service, Princess Gretchen.” He turned to Sven. “How do you put up with her?”
“This is the first time we’ve ever met,” said Sven. “In person, I mean.”
Ludvig, perplexed by Sven’s answer, was about to ask what it was exactly that they did at the retail cube when he remembered he didn’t really care.
Alarms began blaring from all sides.
“What’s that?” asked Ludvig, crouching and looking around the bay as if he expected to find a phalanx of mechbots charging at him. “What’s that mean?”
“It means that all in-process deliveries have been completed and all the doors have been locked,” answered Gretchen coming around the back of the car. “We are now totally alone inside the cube.”
“Why is that happening?” asked Sven. “It’ll create a delivery backlog. Our numbers will look terrible.”
“So that the extermination can begin,” answered Gretchen, giving Ludvig a hard look. She began toward the lift. “Come with me, Sven. Let’s see what we can do up-lift.”
“Right,” said Sven trotting after her. “Wait here, Prince Ludvig. We’ll figure out something.”
“I’m going to give this cube a horrible review,” grumbled Ludvig.
*** *** ***
Up-lift, Sven and Gretchen ran to the monitoring desk and began trying everything they could think of to stop the extermination or else open an outer door. They punched buttons, flipped switches, turned knobs, raised and lowered sliders… Nothing worked.
“We don’t have the authority to override it,” said Gretchen at last. She turned to Sven. “No word from the managing family?”
Sven checked to see if any signals had been received. “Nothing. I don’t even know if my emergency signal made it through the magnetic winds. There’s no receipt confirmation.”
“Hell’s bells,” grumbled Gretchen.
“Wait. What’s this?”
“What’s what?”
“There’s still an unfilled order. It looks like…” Sven finger-punched a few buttons, “like Prince Ludvig’s Genius delivery was re-routed from bay B-Seventy-Seven to A-Thirty-Three in your section. That was at…” Sven looked at the time-stamp. Then he looked at Gretchen with a wounded expression. “That was while you were here.”
“We don’t have time to worry about that now. Look!” Gretchen pointed toward a numerical display. “The extermination is set to start in ten minutes.”
“I’ll keep trying to shut it down, here,” said Sven. “You go down and help Prince Ludvig get a door open.”
“I’m not leaving you behind, Sven.”
“The monitors will tell me as soon as you get a door open,” said Sven, although he wasn’t sure if that was true. “I’ll come down as soon as I see it.”
Gretchen hesitated, then nodded grimly and turned toward the lift.
*** *** ***
When Gretchen re-entered bay B77, she found Ludvig beating the bay door with his head and screaming in frustration.
“You’re really not used to not getting your way, are you, prince?”
“What went wrong with my installation?” Ludvig demanded, stepping toward Gretchen. “Everything was going fine. The Genius was headed straight for me. Then—bam! It suddenly stopped and started going in the opposite direction.”
“You must get that reaction a lot,” said Gretchen placing her hands against the bay door. “You better step back, prince. Unless you like the smell of singed, royal hair.”
Gretchen tensed and sent a burst of electricity into the door. Nothing. She tried again, this time using a more high-powered charge. The resultant explosion knocked her on her back and caused the bay lights to blink.
Ludvig helped her up. “Are you alright?”
Gretchen, embarrassed, pushed him away. “I’m fine.” She looked to the door. Besides the scorch marks she had left, it remained unchanged. “We better head up-lift,” she said. “The retail cube knows that humans stay in the monitoring cubicle. We may be safe up there.”
Ludvig shook his head. “No way. I know how the elite think. Trust me. No one bothered to make sure your little monitoring space would be sealed-up safely in case of an in-cube environmental catastrophe.”
“Good point,” said Gretchen. “We’ll be better off inside the car.”
“Right. Wait—what car?”
“I’ll get Sven.”
“I’m here,” called Sven, running into the bay. “I tried to hack the system and got locked out completely.”
“Imbecile!” barked Ludvig.
“It’s fine, Sven,” said Gretchen, flashing a warning look at Ludvig. “We’re getting inside Prince Ludvig’s car. I’m sure it’s got every kind of shielding. We should be safe in there until the extermination is over.”
“No, no,” said Ludvig. “You’re not sitting your radioactive rear-ends on top of my crill-covered seats.”
“Oh yes, we are,” said Gretchen. “You owe us. We saved your life.”
“My life wouldn’t have needed saving if your retail cube had not malfunctioned.”
“It didn’t malfunction,” said Sven. “Your delivery was reprogrammed.” He looked at Gretchen.
Gretchen sighed. “Fine. I did it. I redirected the Genius.”
“What?” said Ludvig.
“Why?” asked Sven.
“I’ll explain in the car.”
She moved toward the car, but the others remained where they were.
“Those cookies you brought me…” said Sven. “They weren’t really for my birthday, were they? They were just a distraction.”
“Sorry, Sven. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Well… they were dry anyway! And it’s not even my birthday!”
Ludvig watched the two of them, hands on his hips. Shaking his head, he opened his car door and stepped back. “Okay. Get in. I’ve got to keep you two alive long enough to put you in front of one of my father’s firing squads.”
Gretchen shoved the front seat forward and slid into the rear. Sven climbed in after her.
Ludvig got into the driver’s seat and closed the door. It was very quiet inside the car.
Sven looked around at the nice interior, then felt the material of the seat. “This crill-covering really is nice.”
Ludvig frowned at him through the rearview mirror but said nothing.
“Look,” said Gretchen, pointing toward the percentage displayed on the car’s dashboard monitor. “The Genius upgrade is almost complete.”
“Great,” said Ludvig. “Just in time for it to read my vital signs as the life drains from my body.”
“It can do that?” asked Sven impressed.
“So, what was the big plan anyhow, Shoalsie?” asked Ludvig staring at Gretchen in the mirror. “With my Genius? You were just gonna sell it on the black market or what? I know you don’t have a smart-car to put it in.”
“My only job was to redirect delivery to a different bay. That’s all I knew.”
“But why, Gretchen?” asked Sven.
“The Milesian needs the Genius’s advanced A.I. capability,” answered Gretchen. “The prince was getting a model several weeks in advance of the kingdom’s general population.”
“The Milesian?” said Sven. “You trust that guy?”
“Absolutely. He opened my eyes to how this world really is.”
“Opened your eyes? What do you mean?”
“Listen, Sven. This society’s messed up. You don’t know because you’ve never been out of Barren Shoals, or ever talked to someone like the Milesian. But the Overlords… while our parents are killing themselves in the mines, they’re living like kings outside the Irradiated Zone.”
“Well, we are royalty,” stated Ludvig.
“They do nothing. We’re the ones who create the wealth,” continued Gretchen. “The Milesian told me how the whole kingdom’s prosperity is based on the ultra-rich uranium we mine here in Barren Shoals.”
“You mine the Grade-X uranium because you’re only ones who can mine the Grade-X uranium,” said Ludvig, glancing down at the car’s display. The installation percentage had climbed into the high nineties.
“What do you mean that we’re the only ones who can?” asked Sven.
“You know what I mean,” said Ludvig.
“No. I don’t.”
“The special mutations?”
“What?” Sven looked to Gretchen, but she only stared ahead at the black-streaked bay door.
Ludvig turned in his seat, looking first at Sven and then at Gretchen. “Does he really not know?”
“I didn’t know either,” said Gretchen quietly. “Not until I met the Milesian. No one here does. Except the older generation. But they’re afraid to talk about it.”
“Know what?” asked Sven.
Ludvig shifted to more directly face Sven. “Your special see-in-the-dark eye-beams? The ability to shoot electric bolts from your body? Doesn’t that strike you as a bit… odd?”
“What odd?” asked Sven. “Everybody can do that stuff.”
“No, Sven,” said Gretchen softly. “Not everybody.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Listen, Sven. It’s like this,” began Ludvig. “You Barren Shoals people… You’ve got these mutated genes, see? I mean, have you never wondered how you’re able to survive in this hellhole with all its radiation and magnetic wind?”
“We have radiation suits,” said Sven. “And our homes are radiation-proof.”
“First off,” said Ludvig, “those shacks of yours couldn’t keep out a good rain, much less radiation. Secondly, no one could survive here full-time, even with a radiation suit. No one who isn’t mutated, that is.”
Sven turned to Gretchen. “Is he telling the truth?”
“He is. And he’s not the least bit ashamed of how his kind has treated us.”
“What else can we do?” asked Ludvig, throwing is hands in the air. “Someone’s got to work the mines. And it’s not gonna be us Overlords. What good’s being an Overlord if you’ve got to work in a mine? And it’s sure not gonna be the Understocracy. Those whimpering bureaucrats wouldn’t last a day.”
“Install complete!” said a female voice over the car speakers.
“Yes!” said Ludvig, clapping and spinning forward in his seat. “Hello. Genius-upgrade! Can you hear me?”
“I’m not sure I’m talking to you,” said the voice over the speakers. “That was an intensely inappropriate install experience.”
“Genius is a girl?” asked Sven. He had grown accustomed to way she sounded using Ludvig’s vocal cords.
Gretchen leaned forward. “Hey, Genius, this is Gretchen. Remember me?”
“Hello, Gretchen. How may I help you?“
“Aw, now, that ain’t right,” said Ludvig.
“Is there anything you can do to override the current pest-control extermination-program that this retail cube is running?” asked Gretchen.
“I’ll check.”
In the one second that passed before the Genius system responded, it traveled down thousands of pathways, seeking answers, cross-referencing data, attempting entry into the retail cube’s computer network, accessing stored memory, judging outcome-probabilities, enabling A.I. logical processors… until, at last, it had an answer.
“Sorry, Gretchen,” said the Genius. “This retail cube is being very standoffish. But you are correct about the extermination program. An aerosol pesticide has been released. Please exercise extreme caution. The pesticide being dispersed is particularly toxic to human beings.”
“It was designed for us!” said Ludvig. “It’s trying to kill us!”
“That’s unfortunate,” said the Genius system. “Would you like me to display the toxicity level inside the vehicle?”
“What do you mean, inside the vehicle?” asked Gretchen. “Is the pesticide getting into the car?”
“Affirmative,” said the Genius. “This smart-car is radiation-proof. Not airtight. A human being would suffocate inside a vehicle that was completely airtight.“
“I guess we didn’t think of that,” said Sven.
“How long do you think we have?” asked Ludvig looking at Gretchen’s reflection in the mirror.
A digital time-display appeared on the dashscreen.
“Uhm, Genius,” began Gretchen, “what is that number on the screen that looks like it’s counting down from three minutes?”
“That is the amount of time until the air in this automobile reaches fatal toxicity. I thought it would be helpful.“
“No, not helpful, Genius!” said Sven. “Not helpful!” He grabbed Gretchen’s forearm. “Let’s run back up to the office.”
Gretchen unplucked Sven’s hand from her arm. “We can’t get out now. You heard Genius. The extermination has already started.”
All three turned their attention to the death countdown on the car’s screen.
Ludvig sat up suddenly and started the car.
“What are you doing?” asked Gretchen.
“I’m gonna ram the door.”
“This car will never punch through that door,” said Gretchen. “It’s got anti-radiation plating.”
“So does this car.”
“Too bad it’s not pesticide proof,” observed Sven.
“Yeah, Sven,” said Ludvig, looking at Sven through the rearview mirror. “Those engineers must have been real idiots not to think of making their car pesticide proof. How could they not have thought of that?”
“Is that your whole plan?” asked Gretchen. “To ram us into a heavy-plated door?”
“It’s our only chance.”
“We’re going to die!” said Sven, crossing his arms tightly and beginning to rock back and forth. “We’re going to die. We’re going to die.”
“The male passenger in the backseat is correct,” said Genius. “Occupants of this vehicle have a more than ninety-nine percent probability of dying within the next two minutes.”
“Sven! My name is Sven!”
“It was nice knowing you, Sven,” said Genius.
The time showing on the screen ticked down to less than sixty seconds. Gretchen coughed first. Then Sven.
Ludvig twisted his hand tightly around the steering wheel. “Here we go.” He met Gretchen’s eyes in the rearview. “See ya on the other side, princess.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” exclaimed Gretchen. “Genius, can you override the door controls for this delivery bay?”
“Trying now…”
The bay’s door began to open. Bright sunlight flooded the small bay.
“Genius, you did it!” exclaimed Gretchen.
“What are you waiting on?” demanded Sven, slapping the seat in front of him. “Gun it, prince!”
Ludvig pressed down on the accelerator, the tires squealing on the smooth concrete before catching and sending the car speeding under the half-opened garage door and into the blinding light beyond.
“Okay, Genius,” said Ludvig, letting off the accelerator. “Circle us back around to the bay. I’ll let these citizens out, then you can get me back on the smart-road. I still have time to make it to the party before the yacht sets sail.”
“No, Genius. Keep driving. Take us to the Milesian.”
“Yes, Gretchen.”
“Hey—What’s the big idea?” said Ludvig, turning in his seat. “And why is the Genius taking orders from you?”
“Genius?” said Gretchen.
“Yes, Gretchen?”
“When you were being installed in this vehicle, whose name and voice-imprint was registered as your primary operator?”
“Why, yours Gretchen.”
“How dare you!” cried the prince.
“Wait,” said Sven. “How does the Genius know about the Milesian?”
“I entered his home’s coordinates during the installation,” answered Gretchen.
“Why?”
“I’m delivering him to the Milesian. Along with the A.I. unit.”
Ludvig rolled his eyes and slid down into his seat. “No wonder no one ever gets off the smart-road in Barren Shoals. You people are rude!”
“What about the retail cube?” asked Sven. “We have to get back to our monitoring stations.”
“Trust me, Sven,” replied Gretchen, “if we’re not already fired, we soon will be.”
Sven twisted around and stared through the tinted glass at all the customers lined up outside the towering retail cube waiting for it to re-open.
“Darn. And I was really building up a good customer service rating,” he said mournfully.
[END]
Zephyr Dorsey 