The Ware Tetralogy by Rudy Rucker (ebook reader 8 inch .txt) 📕

built like a fireplug covered with suction cups brushed past Sta-Hi and began gathering up the chips he’d left. Lots of the remotes had been smashed now.

Most of the invading boppers were over on the other side of the huge, high-ceilinged factory room, where GAX had been stockpiling the finished chips. Sta-Hi had no desire to get caught in another melee like there had been in front of the factory.

He walked the other way, wandering down a gloomy machine-lined aisle. At the end there was a doorless little control room… GAX’s central processors, his hardware, old and new. Two diggers and a big silver spider were doing something to it.

“... ssstupid,” one of the diggers was complaining. “They’re just sstealinng thinngs and nnott hellping us killl GAXX offf. Arre you ready to blassst it, Vullcann?”

The silvery repair robot named Vulcan was trying, without much success, to pack plastic explosive into the crack under one panel of the featureless three-meter cube which contained GAX’s old processors and his new scion.

“Comme herre,” one of the diggers called, spotting Sta-Hi. “You havve the rright kinnd of mannipulatorrs.”

“Ah ssso!”

Sta-Hi approached the powerful-looking diggers with some trepidation. Rapid bands of blue and silver moved down their stubby snake’s bodies, and their heavy shovels were beating nervously. Cobb had claimed these were the bad guys.

But they just looked like worried seals right now, or dragons from Dragonland. His Happy Cloak swirling red and gold, Sta-Hi squatted down to push the doughy explosive into the crack under GAX’s massive CPU. Vulcan had several kilos of the stuff… these guys weren’t kidding around.

A minute or two later, Sta-Hi had wedged the last of the explosive in place, and Vulcan bellied down and poked a wire into either end of the seam. Just then a dark figure came lurching towards them, carrying some heavy piece of equipment.

“Itss a remmote!” one of the diggers called frantically. “He’s gott a mmagnett!”

Before the three boppers could do anything, the robot threw a powerful electromagnet into their midst. The remote danced back with surprising agility, and then the current came on. The three boppers totally lost control of their movements as the strong magnetic field wiped their circuits. The two diggers twitched and writhed like the two halves of a snake cut in half, and Vulcan’s feet beat a wild tarantella.

Sta-Hi’s Happy Cloak went black, and a terrible numbness began spreading from it into his brain. It had died, just like that. Sta-Hi could feel death hanging from his neck.

Slowly, with leaden gestures, he was able to raise his arms and pull the mechanical symbiote off his neck. He felt a series of shooting pains as the microprobes slid out, and then the corpse of the Happy Cloak dropped to his feet.

His bubble-topper was clear in the dim light, and he stood there wearing his white suit and what looked like six rolls of Saran Wrap. The three boppers were quite still. Down, wiped, dead. Superconducting circuits break down in a strong enough magnetic field.

The scene being played out here must have been repeating itself all over the factory. GAX had weathered his transition, and was back up to full power. On his suit radio, Sta-Hi could hear the twittering bopper speech fading and dying out. Without the Happy Cloak he could no longer understand what they were saying.

Sta-Hi let himself fall to the ground, too, playing possum. The funny thing was that the robot remotes seemed relatively unaffected by the intense magnetic fields. To be able to move around in real-time, they must have some processors independent of BEX’s big brain. But these small satellite brains wouldn’t be complex enough to need the superconducting Josephson junctions of a full bopper brain.

Sta-Hi lay motionless, afraid to breathe. There was a long pause. Then, glass eyes blank, the remote picked up the electromagnet and lugged it off , looking for more intruders. Sta-Hi lay there another minute, wondering what kind of mind lay inside the shielded walls of the three-meter metal cube beside him. He decided to find out.

After glancing around to make sure the coast was clear of remotes, Sta-Hi crawled over and checked that the two wires were pushed well into the explosive putty he’d wedged under the base of the processor. He picked up the two spools of wire and the trigger-cell, and backed twenty meters off from the unit, paying out the wires as he went.

Then he squatted behind a stamping mill, poised his thumb over the button on the trigger-cell, and waited.

It was only a few minutes till one of the remotes spotted him. It ran towards him, carrying a heavy wrench.

“That’s not going to work, GAX,” Sta-Hi called. With the Cloak off he had his old voice back. He only hoped the big bopper spoke English. “One step closer and I push the button.”

The remote stopped, three meters off. It looked like it might be about to throw the wrench. “Back off!” Sta-Hi cried, his voice cracking. “Back off or I’ll push on three!” Did GAX understand?

“One!” The robot, lurching like a mechanical man, moved uncertainly.

“Two!” Sta-Hi began pushing the button, taking up the slack.

“Th—” Krypto the Killer Robot turned and walked off. And GAX began to talk.

“Don’t be hasty, Mr…. DeMentis. Or do you prefer your real name?” The voice in his earphones was urbane and intimate, the mad mastermind taunting the trapped superhero.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Sta-Hi didn’t answer right away. The dark mechanical-man remote stopped some ten meters off and turned to stare at him. He could hear his breathing more distinctly than usual. Muzak seemed to be playing faintly in the deep background somewhere. All over the factory, dark remotes had come out of hiding and were straightening up… dismantling the dead boppers and remotes, lining up the work-tools, soldering loose wires back in place.

“You’re not leaving here alive,” GAX’s voice said smoothly. “Not in your present form.”

“Fuck that,” Sta-Hi exclaimed. “I push this button and you’re gone. _I’m _the one in charge here.”

A high-pitched synthetic chuckle. “Yes… but my remotes are programmable for up to four days of independent activity. On their own they lack a certain intelligence… spirituality if you will. But they obey. I suggest that you reassess your situation.”

Sta-Hi realized then that there was a loose ring of perhaps fifty remotes around him. All were seemingly at work, but all were acutely aware of his presence. He was hopelessly outnumbered.

“You see,” GAX gloated. “We enjoy a situation of mutual assured destruction. Game-theoretically interesting, but by no means unprecedented. Your move.” The ring of robots around Sta-Hi tightened a bit… a step here, a turn there… something was crawling towards the wires!

“Freeze!” Sta-Hi screamed, gripping the trigger-cell. “Anything else in here moves and I’m blowing the whole goddamn… ”

Abruptly the factory fell silent. There were no more sidling movements, no more vibrations except for a deep, steady grinding somewhere underfoot. Sta-Hi finished screaming. There was a little blue light blinking on his wrist. Air warning. He checked the reading. Two hours left. He was going to have to stop breathing so hard.

“You should have gone with Ralph Numbers and Dr. Anderson,” GAX said quietly. “To join the ranks of the immortal. As it is, you may become damaged too badly for effective taping.”

“Why, GAX? Why do you cut people up and tape their brains?” Surges of mortal fear kept gripping Sta-Hi’s guts. Why weren’t there any pills inside the suit? He sucked greedily at the drinking nipple by his right cheek.

“We value information, Sta-Hi. Nothing is so densely packed with logically deep information as a human brain. This is the primary reason. MEX compares our activities to those American industrialists called… culture vultures. Who ransacked the museums of the Old World for works of art. And there are higher, more spiritual reasons. The merging of all… ”

“Why can’t you just use EEG’s?” Sta-Hi asked. The grinding vibration underfoot was getting stronger. A trap? He moved back a few meters. “Why do you have to chew up our brains?”

“So much of your information storage is chemical or mechanical rather than electrical,” GAX explained. “A careful electron-microscopic mapping of the memory RNA strands is necessary. And by cutting the brain into thin slices we can learn which neurons connect to which. But this has gone on long enough, Sta-Hi. Drop the trigger-cell and we will tape you. Join us. You can be our third Earth-based robot-bodied agent. You’ll see that… ”

“You’re not getting me,” Sta-Hi interrupted. He was standing now and his voice had risen. “Soul-snatchers! Puppet-masters! I’d rather die clean, you goddamn… ”

KKKKAA-BRRUUUUUUUUMMM

Without quite meaning to, Sta-Hi had pushed the button on the trigger-cell. The flash of light was blinding. Pieces of things flew past on hard, flat trajectories. There was no air to carry a shockwave, but the ground underfoot jerked and knocked him off his feet. Clumsy again, but numerous, the pre-programmed remotes moved in for the kill.

The whole time he had been talking with GAX there had been that steady grinding vibration coming through the floor. Now, as Sta-Hi stood up again, the vibration broke into a chunky mutter and something burst through the floor behind him. A blue and silver nose-cone studded with black drill-bits… a digger!

It twittered something oily. A wrench flew by. The remotes were closing in. Without a second thought, Sta-Hi followed the digger back down the tunnel it had made, crawling on his stomach like a shiny white worm.

It’s a bad feeling not to be able to see your feet when you’re expecting steel claws to sink into them. Sta-Hi crawled very fast. Before long, the thin tube they were in punched through the wall of a big tunnel, and Sta-Hi followed the digger out.

He got to his feet and brushed himself off. No punctures in his suit. An hour’s worth of air left. He was going to have to stop getting excited and breathing so hard.

The digger was examining Sta-Hi curiously… circling him, and reaching out to touch him with a thin and flexible probe.

A small rock came rolling out of the shaft they had come down. The killer-robots were coming. “Uuuuunnh!” Sta-Hi said, pointing.

“To be rresstfulll,” the digger said. He humped himself up like the numeral “2″ and applied his digging head to the tunnel wall near the hole they’d crawled out of. Sta-Hi stepped back. Moments later a few tons of rock came loose, burying the digger and the hole he’d made.

A second later the digger slid effortlessly out of the heap of rubble, leaving no exit behind him. “To commme withh mme,” he said, wriggling past Sta-Hi. “I willl showw you thinngs of innteresst.”

Sta-Hi followed along. Once again he was breathing hard. “Do you have any air?” he asked.

“Whatt iss airr?”

Sta-Hi controlled his voice with difficulty. “It’s a… gas. With oxygen. Humans breathe it.”

Sta-Hi’s radio warbled strangely in his ear. Laughter? “Of courrsse. Aairr. There iss plennty in the pinnk-houses. Do yyou needd aairr in the presennt tensse?”

“In half an hour.” The tunnel was unlit, and Sta-Hi had to guide himself by following the blue-white glow of the digger’s body. Not too far ahead was a spot of pinkish light in the side of the tunnel.

“To be resstfull. In hallf a kilometerr iss a pinkk-housse with nno nurrsies. But llook innto thiss one firrsstt.” The digger stopped by a pink-lit window.

Sta-Hi peered in. Ralph Numbers was in there with a portable refrigeration unit plugged into his side. Warm in there. Ralph was standing over a thing like a floppy