Doctor Who - Nuclear Time Page 10
He watched intently as his creations were escorted to their deaths. Every one of them, every personality, had been designed and created by 151
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him. There was Mr and Mrs Sanderson, the happily married couple, Dave Jones the gardener, that woman in the paisley dress who he'd modelled on his mother - Miranda. The line began to ebb and, as he finished counting the androids off in his head, he knew that there was only one more citizen left to be unloaded.
He tapped the nearby captain on the shoulder. 'I'll take it from here,' he whispered.
The captain looked around sternly, before recognising
the
scientist.
He
acknowledged
Albert's authority with a curt nod and moved aside.
'By the way, Captain, do you know where my bag is? I think I left it in the driver's cabin. Do you mind fetching it for me?' Albert used his most disarming of smiles. The captain frowned, annoyed at being ordered about by a civilian. 'Now please?'
Albert added. Without a word, the captain disappeared around the front of the truck.
The interior of the vehicle was bathed in a soft red glow that made the smooth metal walls feel close and intimidating as Albert walked through the now-empty racks where the androids had been hung for the duration of their transportation. Only one was still occupied, deep in the far corner of the structure where the scientist knew she would
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be. He grimaced as he gently undid the clasps around her wrists and let her fall softly onto his shoulder.
'There there, Isley,' he whispered. 'Let's get you out of this abattoir.' A gentle pressure on her neck and her motor functions re-engaged, allowing her to stand without support. He took her by the hand, and together they walked out of the lorry and into the harsh sunlight where the captain was waiting impatiently by the steps with Albert's shoulder bag.
Albert nodded appreciatively. 'Cheers.'
The remaining soldiers still stood at attention, flanking either side of the route towards the central courtyard. But rather than follow the escort, Albert ducked to the right, pulling Isley with him. There was a quickly hushed chorus of protests, but the scientist ignored them and fixed his eyes straight ahead as he led the android to a small cluster of barrels in the corner of the car park that semi-obscured the pair from the platoon's condemning eyes.
He sat her on one of the small crates within the semicircle and perched next to her, his long legs making his knees bend awkwardly. 'Do you remember who I am, Isley?' he asked carefully.
The android's head swivelled and turned groggily. 'Hello, Albert,' she said.
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Albert's eyes watered. 'That's my girl,' he whispered.
`Do you want to talk to me, Albert?' Isley's intonation circuits had yet to reboot, despite the extra complexities and improvements of a system that had been active for so much longer than all the others.
Her voice was flat but feminine and shocked Albert with memories of the computer lab in Michigan over eight years ago.
'Yes, Isley. Yes I do.' He reached for his bag and snapped open the clasp to rummage inside. 'Now, you're about to go on a long journey, sweetie. We're going to take you to a brand new house, built just for you.' He looked around nervously and lowered his voice. 'You remember? Like the one we talked about?'
'The one where you said we could live together and mind our own business as long as everybody else minded theirs.'
A tear rolled down Albert's bristled cheek. 'Yes, exactly, Isley, that's the one. But you're going to have to go there first, on your own, you understand?'
He sniffed loudly. 'But I'll see you later. I promise.'
Before the android could respond, Albert's fingers closed around the object in his bag and he smiled through his grief, drawing out a small metal box wired to a pair of headphones. Gingerly, 154
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he took Isley's hands and turned them over before ceremoniously placing the Walkman into her open palms.
'Happy fifth birthday, Isley,' he said.
She examined the device impassively. 'My song?'
she enquired.
Albert held up his hand. 'Not this time. The Walkman's only half the present - there's a new song for you today.' Another rummage in the bag produced a small cassette tape. 'Now be careful with this,' he continued. 'It's my only copy.'
Isley turned the plastic case over in her hand and slipped it into the open slot of the player. She moved to place the earphones over her head as Albert had done with her so many times before. Albert touched her wrists gently before she could do so and carefully rested the earphones back onto her shoulders.
'Not this time,' he said, reaching over to the box and spinning up the volume dial before pressing play.
The tinny power chords of a piano cut through the silence as the scientist stood up and proffered a hand to his companion - an invitation to dance. She took it solemnly.
Hand in hand, the pair walked together into the long undercover walkway of the corridor. Strip lighting flickered erratically above their heads, 155
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and the soldiers glared angrily at them from the alcoves between the ribbed supports.
A pair of reinforced double doors swung open in front of them just as the vocals kicked in, and Albert slid one foot forward in an atrocious attempt at a slide whilst making gun-fingers at his partner.
'Just a small town girl. Living in a l000nely w000rld!' he sang as they moved through the second gate.
The soldiers guarding the final doors that would open
out
into
the
courtyard
looked
on
in
astonishment at the sight that confronted them. The ageless young girl in her creator's souvenir Star Wars T-shirt, pale jeans and trainers, alongside the greying scientist with his combed-back hair, spectacles and lab coat made such a ridiculous pairing that one of the men couldn't help but grin as they approached.
The scientist winked at him as he began an elaborate air guitar display, legs bowed out sideways as he strode forwards, strumming the air, his partner nodding in time.
But the other guard was less impressed. He scowled as he slid the huge bolt across the steel doors and began to haul it open, revealing the large open space beyond, and the mass of cybernetic bodies that were standing there.
Albert and Isley stepped towards the threshold.
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'A singer in a smoky room — the smell of wine and cheap perfume!'
'Android lover,' the guard spat.
A second later he fell to the floor, his neck snapped instantly.
Isley withdrew her hand. 'Gotcha,' she said coldly.
Albert had been two steps ahead of her when it happened and turned back in horror, mirroring the action of every single head in the courtyard, android and human alike.
'He said android,' Albert whispered hoarsely, speaking aloud the panicked thought of the surrounding soldiers.
There was a hail of noise as every rifle in the compound was cocked simultaneously and aimed squarely at the suburban mass in the middle of the dusty courtyard. The mass fanned out into a perfect circle, facing their attackers head on.
Nobody moved.
Albert gently edged the door behind him closed as Isley walked out in front of him. It squeaked painfully in the silence.
Suddenly, someone broke. From up above, on the wrought-iron balcony that spanned three-quarters of the courtyard perimeter, a stream of bullets spasmed wildly into the centre of the circle. Clouds of dust pricked up around the android's
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feet as the bullets buried themselves in the dusty ground.
But the citizens were too fast.
There was a blur of motion that made Albert feel sick and suddenly, without any physical c
hange, the innocuous civilians switched over to their military protocols, transformed instantaneously into killing machines. Corduroy trousers covered piston legs as they pounded into the stomachs of the nearest soldiers, bonded titanium-alloy fists crushing human arms as they tore the weapons from their weakened grip, fingers still randomly twitching at the triggers.
Even Isley herself had disarmed the once-grinning guard beside her and stood, feet planted firmly on the ground as she raked the upper level with cold, precise bursts whilst her victim writhed in agony on the floor.
Barely a bullet missed its target at the hands of his creations.
Albert stumbled blindly through the panic, hands waving at the air in protest as he begged the robots to stop. The butt of a rifle smacked him in the back of the head and he was sent sprawling across the ground, his body dragged several metres before he regained awareness. Looking upwards and through grit-filled eyes he could see Mr Sanderson standing over him, casually ripping a magazine from the belt of a dead soldier as his
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body flew past him through the air. There was a soft series of clicks as he reloaded and aimed the barrel squarely at Albert's head.
'No.'
Albert flinched, but the bullet didn't come. He opened his eyes to find Isley standing in the android's place. He looked around, and spotted the man stumbling backwards with some surprise at the force of the shove the young woman had given him. But his microchip brain was not built to bear grudges, and tactical considerations soon took over as he swivelled his head in search of a new target.
With one hand, Isley hauled the prone man into the air, and pushed him into a corner where a small, tarpaulin-covered object had been tucked away. 'Hide,'
she stated simply.
Albert cradled his head in his hands, confused more than terrified. 'But why? You're not programmed to save my life. I've known about you, what you are. I built you! I've always known - surely that's all you need to hear!'
Isley paused and tilted her neck. 'I know,' she said.
'But I need you.'
Then she turned away, the muzzle of her rifle flashing almost immediately as she finished off a soldier mid-fall as his body plummeted from the balcony.
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Albert reached a hand to his cheek and realised that he was blushing. 'I need you too,' he whispered.
Then the alarms went off.
160
Chapter
13
Colorado, 28 August 1981, 2.47 p.m.
Geoff cannoned onto the balcony just in time to dodge a hail of bullets that sent him scrambling for cover behind a nearby crate. The nervous sergeant and his prisoner joined him soon after.
'What happened?' He grabbed a pistol off a nearby soldier who was desperately trying to patch up a wound in his arm and fired off a few covering shots.
'It was Dr Gilroy, sir,' the soldier panted through clenched teeth. 'He was... singing or something.'
Geoff blanched. 'Albert did this?' But there was no time to dwell. He turned to his comrade. 'Quick, sergeant. Where's the EM generator?'
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'The what, sir?' The sergeant was shaking with fear, jolting as bullets rattled on the underside of the steel floor beneath him.
'The EM generator! You must have been trained to set it up!'
The sergeant pointed directly in front of where they were crouching. 'In the crate, sir.'
That was all Geoff needed. A few well-placed shots, and the padlock disintegrated. He tossed the weapon over to the sergeant and began clawing at the splintered wood, tearing the front panel open. The interior was a mess of wiring and bolts, but the familiar shape of the iron core and its metal spiral were fully intact.
He began fiddling around inside, desperately guessing at which wires needed to be hooked up to which sockets, his calloused fingers unused to such delicate movements. 'How do you switch this thing on?' he growled.
'I don't know, sir.'
'I wasn't looking for an answer, soldier! I could have guessed you wouldn't have a clue!'
The screams of his men below were lessening. There were so few of them left now that even the soft groans of pain were becoming audible. With a howl of exasperation, Geoff stood up and kicked the machine, hard.
It was then that he heard an entirely different 162
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noise altogether: a kind of soft, buzzing sound, like that of a mechanical insect. He turned his head slowly to see the strange man with the strange clothes holding a strange device - a hefty, bronzed tool with an emerald light at one end - which he was pointing at the generator.
'Sabotage!' Geoff mouthed over the noise. He turned quickly, grabbing the stranger and heaving him over the iron railings with a brutal yell of exertion. There was a dull thud as the body hit the ground below, and Geoff braved a glance downwards to inspect the damage. The man had landed awkwardly but the drop hadn't been far enough to injure him in any visible manner. Not that it mattered anyway - the androids were already surrounding his prone figure in preparation for the coup de grace.
Geoff spun around and returned his attention to the crate. It was humming now - the prisoner's device had charged the mechanisms inside, overloading the circuits so that the coil glowed a deep red.
It crackled.
Geoff felt like someone had just handed him a grenade and pulled the pin. His mind flashed back to Vietnam, and he had a sickening feeling of fragility, like his bones were hollow.
Mustering all the strength he could manage, he 163
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heaved the device up and into his arms until it was balanced precariously on the edge of the rail, suddenly overcome with a desire to get the device as far away from himself as possible. He inched it forwards slowly and felt the wood splinter further in his grip.
Below, forty-seven rifles were cocked instantly. Geoff pushed one last time.
All eyes tracked the trajectory of the crate as it plummeted down into the courtyard. It just missed the stranger and shattered instantly.
Silence.
A smell of burning sawdust drifted lazily through the stifling summer air as the shavings that coated the heap of exposed metal began to smoulder.
Then the generator detonated.
The electromagnetic tsunami that ensued was invisible, but every man in the room could feel it as it radiated out from the ruined device at the speed of light and crashed against the walls of the courtyard with a violence that was expressed only in the suddenly flopping figures of the androids. Like a line of dominos, the future citizens of Appletown stumbled and fell as their programming was brought to an abrupt halt and a state of reset was resumed.
The sound of falling weapons and bodies 164
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pattered around the silent compound like a soft drizzle as Geoff carefully pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes with a trembling hand.
The massacre was over.
'It was you.'
Time was of the essence, and Geoff had had no time to sympathise with his wounded men as he'd strode into the courtyard, a tight ball of fury, spitting orders in all directions. The survivors were allowed only the most rudimentary of first aid before being set to work, grouping the docile citizens in preparation for the embarkation before they recovered from the shock of the reset.
The huge iron doors to the compound had been opened and, silhouetted against the vast sandscape beyond, the three army trucks hummed reassuringly with the power of their own personal EM fields. A cluster of soldiers gathered around them as they checked off the populace, careful not to stray too far from the dead zone, just in case.
Geoff fixed Albert with a stare that was filled more with disappointment than anger.
'You killed my men. Thirty-seven soldiers dead, more wounded, and all because of your feelings for her.
Because you couldn't keep it professional. Yet again!'
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woman in the battered T-shirt as she was loaded into a vehicle. 'For God's sake, Albert, she's just a, a, a thing!' he finished pathetically. He drew a palm over his face and composed himself. 'You got too close.
You were always too close. To me and to the project.
I should have made you shut her down the minute you started implementing those "improvements" over the other models.'
Albert opened his mouth to respond, but Geoff waved him into silence.
'I don't care what you have to say. This is it, it's over, and this is goodbye. Just get on the truck.' He turned away so that Albert couldn't see the tears in his eyes and looked over his shoulder. 'Guards? Take it from here, will you?' His gaze alighted on the prisoner. 'And put that freak in with him.' He gestured. 'They can keep each other company until the nuke goes off.'
The sergeant stepped forward and took Albert by the shoulder. 'Sir?' he said.
'Yeah, let's go,' Albert muttered. He turned and began walking towards the central vehicle.
Every soldier in the compound stopped to watch him board. Every solder staring at him with hollow, condemning eyes that made Albert shrink in his coat as he shuffled to the back of the van. And every soldier was certain in their heads that this was the punishment the scientist deserved.
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Every soldier, except Geoffrey Redvers.
By the time Geoff had finished with the observation room it had been almost completely destroyed, and the broken man sat huddled amongst the splintered wreckage of the foldout table, walled in by upturned cabinets, nursing his bruised hands and weeping like a child.
Blinded by tears, he reached out and began scrabbling through the papers and folders that littered the room on his hands and knees until he found what he was looking for: the parcel, in its brown Christmas wrapping paper, torn and peeling away at the edges. He clutched it to his chest and squeezed.