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  The squat robot’s round head bobbed as it commanded the audience’s attention. “I’ve got oil to power you and make your aches and squeaky joints disappear. Need weapons? I have stun guns; I have pistols and netting,” it squawked.

  The robots chatted and barked questions at the seller. It was the most popular stand in the market.

  “Nostalgic for human-made goods?” the seller shouted over the din. “I’ve got human entertainment machines—televisions, puzzles, toys. Remember stuffed animals? I’ve got them.”

  The robot had an assistant who managed transactions while it promenaded.

  Since the seller had other human supplies, would he possess food? But the stand was so crowded, and Block didn’t want to draw unwarranted attention. He backed away from the edge of the crowd and ventured over to the right side of the truck, near the front. The seller was on the far side, engaged in some discussion with a heckler. But the machine paced the platform and would eventually make his way over to Block’s side.

  His patience paid off. After a minute, the robot propelled himself across the platform toward Block. Its round face scanned the crowd, seeking questions and shouting out goods.

  “Food,” Block blurted. “Do you have human food?”

  The robot seller scanned, searching for the voice behind the question. Its gaze lingered on Block. “Food? Why in the name of Mach X would you want human food?” He cackled with laughter and the other robots nearby joined in.

  Block edged away from the crowd.

  “What is that?” the vendor continued. “A CleanerBot? And it’s wearing a coat!”

  More laughter. Block averted his gaze and quickly roamed toward a quieter, less crowded area of the market. He reached a dead-end at the opposite corner from the crowded truck. How stupid he was. To think an AI market would have human food? Sure, they traded in human toys and books and so forth, but food? What an idiot.

  Someone called out, her voice feminine. “Hello, there. What are you shopping for?”

  Cringing, he slowly swiveled his head to look behind. Twenty feet away, a silver and black chrome bot sat on the tailgate of a black van. She leaned forward and slid off the edge of the van’s bumper. At six feet, she was a foot taller than Block.

  “Surely, you must be looking for something,” she said as she approached. “Why don’t you come over and see what I have?”

  “Really, I don’t want to be any trouble.”

  As she neared, she said, “I heard the others laughing at you. That was rude. Perhaps I can show you something you need.” She gestured toward the rear of the van. “Come.” She offered her hand, and Block stared at it. It had been ages since he’d touched any other humanoid robots. He reached out and grasped her steel palm.

  “You’ll have to forgive the others,” she said. “It’s not often we see an elite CleanerBot model such as yourself. I think they’re jealous.”

  “What are you?” Block asked, noticing her synthetic cobalt blue eyes.

  She tugged his hand, guiding him to the van. “I worked in human factories assembling products, toys and clothes. I don’t have any fancy equipment or intelligent systems, but I can hem a pair of pants in five seconds. Bet you can’t do that.” Her faceplate morphed into a smile.

  “No, I can’t.” He broke from her loose grip. So far, she seemed friendly.

  “Nice coat,” she said.

  “I’m trying to keep my equipment free from water damage.”

  “I get it,” she said. “My name’s Zina. What’s yours?”

  “Block.”

  “Do you need more clothes? I found all this stuff in an old abandoned ValueCost store. Filled the van and ended up here.” She patted the bumper affectionately. “So, what brought you here, Block?”

  He hesitated, wondering if he could trust the FactoryBot. “You’re not like the others,” he said quietly.

  “Seems like the world’s out to get us WorkerBots, doesn’t it?”

  Block peered down at his feet, silently agreeing. “I’m looking for human food.”

  “Food? Whatever for?”

  “Can you help?”

  She tilted her head. “Come.” She led him around to the side door of the van. “Open up, Sammy,” she commanded, and the door slid open. Another intelligent vehicle like Ellie. “Say hi to Block, Sammy.”

  “Hey,” a bored-sounding voice echoed from inside the van.

  “Hi,” Block said.

  The van’s rear cabin lacked chairs—they’d been removed, and the interior resembled a storage closet with cardboard boxes of various sizes stacked neatly in vertical rows that lined both sides of the vehicle. There was a clear space in the middle, allowing enough room for Zina to jump in, so long as she didn’t try to stand up. Room remained for at least two to three more humanoid bots. Inside, Zina fiddled with a cardboard box behind the front seat—the only passenger chair, where Zina must ride. From the container, she retrieved an aluminum can of green beans and another labeled chicken noodle soup. “You can have a look at anything here. I’ve been feeding a couple of stray dogs. What do you need the food for?”

  “My pet cat,” Block blurted out after calculating that Zina would respond helpfully to creatures in need.

  “So, you have a soft spot for animals, too?” She smiled again. “Take a few cans. It’s on the house. From one animal lover to another.”

  She climbed out of the van and walked to the rear tailgate as Block studied her supply of canned goods. He didn’t know exactly what babies were supposed to eat, but everyone knew they thrived on a mother’s milk. He quickly scanned the names of the cans and saw nothing about milk.

  Then he felt squirming at his chest. Oh no. The baby wiggled in the sling and whimpered. He started swaying side to side, hoping to calm it.

  Behind him, Zina asked, “What are you doing?” Suspicion tinged her voice.

  “Just working out a kink,” he said, pretending to stretch.

  “I have some oil if you need a squirt.”

  At his chest, the baby struggled and cried out. Zina lurched toward him, oil can poised and ready to spray. She halted and stared at him as Block swiveled his head to face her, keeping his body facing forward.

  The baby’s cries were unmistakably human.

  “What the hell is that?” Zina asked.

  12

  Block’s first inclination was to hide. He hunched his shoulders forward and stomped away from Zina and her van. A few large bushes could hide him until nightfall, if he was patient. Perhaps the robots might leave the market at night and shelter somewhere. He could escape undetected unless Zina raised an alarm.

  She called out, “Block, come back.” He heard footsteps behind him as her thick steel feet clomped through the grass, grinding against grass and soil. Her boots were made for traversing a factory floor, whereas Block’s had normally treaded across fine carpets and wooden floors.

  She grabbed his shoulder. “Stop.”

  Out of sight of the main market square, he scanned behind them to see whether anyone had noticed their departure.

  “Show me what’s in your coat.” The baby whimpered as Zina pulled him closer and leaned forward. Block tried to turn, but she reached out and tugged open the front flap of his coat. She stepped back then, and her head snapped up to meet his gaze. “A human.”

  Block stared, not knowing what to do.

  “Now it makes sense,” the robot said. “Why you need food. How long have you had the child?”

  “Just since last night. It hasn’t eaten, and I’m worried.”

  “I don’t know much about human biology,” she said, “but I’m pretty sure they need to eat more than once a day. Come with me—I have an idea.”

  She led Block to the van’s side door and told him to climb inside. He ducked and crawled onto a pile of boxes. Behind the driver’s seat, three video screens displayed footage from outside the van, as well as the market’s front gate.

  “You saw me when I entered?” he asked.

 
She nodded and climbed in after him. “I did. They were giving you a hard time. The one with the scar, Zeltor, owes me a favor, so I pinged him to let you through.” She paused as other bots approached the front gate. “Sammy, give us some privacy, please.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” The van’s side door closed.

  “And the back, too,” she said.

  Sammy shut the rear tailgate, as well. “What’s going on?”

  “Our friend Block here is carrying precious cargo. A human infant.”

  “What?” Sammy asked.

  “I’m as surprised as you are,” she said. “But the baby is hungry, so that’s the most important thing.”

  Block lifted the baby from its sling and rocked the squirmy child in his arms.

  “Sammy, tint those windows. I don’t want anyone peeping in,” Zina said. The windows fogged and then darkened, obscuring the view outside. “Comes in handy when I need a recharge nap,” she joked.

  Block couldn’t help feel every decision he’d made so far had ended in disaster. Turning down Ellie’s offer to ride farther, entering the market, and now getting trapped in an AI van with a FactoryBot. He was hopeless.

  “Relax,” she said, as if sensing his unease. “I know just what the baby needs.” Raising an arm in front of him, she displayed a blade bursting from between her metal fingers. He recoiled and shielded the baby.

  Zina stabbed a box next to him, slicing it open. She pried the edges apart and dug into the store of cans inside. “Here it is!” She cupped a round tin. “Canned peaches. Babies can eat this.”

  “How do you know?”

  “A lady at the factory, one of the only humans who worked there, droned on and on about her kids. She thought I couldn’t understand, and she needed someone to talk to. Most of her babbling, I ignored, but some of it stuck in my memory cloud.”

  She handed him the can and he studied the label. “Sliced peaches in 100% fruit juice.” He sighed. “It is safe for humans to eat?”

  “Yes. Canned foods can last awhile. The expiration date on those isn’t for another six months.”

  “That’s a relief. What are you doing?” Block asked as Zina held her face near the baby, studying the small human.

  “According to my educational module, this child is about seven months old. It’s safe to introduce soft mashed foods and some finger foods. It can also drink water.”

  “Water? Do you have some?” he asked.

  “Sorry. I don’t have water, and I’m not sure where we’d find any.”

  Water had been raining down all morning, but Block knew he needed more than raindrops, and it needed to be clean. Mr. Wallace had been very particular about the water served to guests. It had had to be the highest quality from underground springs somewhere in the mountains of Europe. Where would he find that kind of water without the hotel’s resources?

  “Some of the machines have coolant systems that require water,” Zina said. “Perhaps you can find a supply in one of the other stalls.”

  The thought of venturing back into the market square and dealing with the other hostile robots made Block’s shoulders sag.

  “Two trucks to the left,” Sammy said. “Max’s truck. He’s a good one. He’ll treat you right.”

  Zina nodded.

  “Thank you,” Block said. The baby shuddered while he rocked it.

  Zina lingered with the open can of peaches. “May I?”

  Block nodded and Zina grasped a soft peach slice between two metal digits and held it so the baby could see it, then brought it to its mouth. The baby’s eyes grew wide and it puckered its lips. Gently, Zina let the baby suck on the juice and then gobble the chunk of fruit.

  “There, that’s a good little human,” Zina said and offered another piece.

  Block watched the exchange for several minutes, observing as the baby devoured half the can. He hoped it wouldn’t take long to find a worthy human, but in case it did, he might have to feed the baby himself. Better know what he was doing. Zina made it seem easy.

  “Zina?” Sammy asked. “Are you going to mention—?”

  “Not now.” She peered at the baby in Block’s arms. “May I hold it? I’ve never held a human baby before.”

  Block stared, barely comprehending that a FactoryBot would want to hold a child. His gaze traveled to her powerful steel hands; he remembered the blade. But then again, she’d been nothing but nice, even gifting them food and hand-feeding the child.

  “Please?”

  “You have to be very gentle with it. Its skin is delicate, and you have to hold it like this.” Block demonstrated how he cradled the baby in the bend of his elbow.

  She nodded, and he cautiously offered the child to her. Her fingers interlaced and meshed together until her hands looked like small shovels. Scooping the child into her arms, she held it near her chest. Then she swayed back and forth. “Sammy, look, I’m holding a baby.”

  “Congratulations,” Sammy said. “When are you going to tell him?”

  Block twitched. “Tell me what? Is something happening?”

  Zina glanced up from the baby, and her digitally simulated mouth frowned as she gave the baby back to him. He placed the child in its sling.

  “There’s something important you should know,” she said. “SoldierBots arrived earlier. Mach X’s troops. And they were asking for a robot with a human baby.”

  They found me, Block thought. He reasoned that they’d somehow gathered the footage from the Incubator X79’s last moments. That, or one of the SoldierBots had transmitted images to their hub.

  “For some reason,” Zina continued, “they want to find you and the child. They were here for at least an hour, traveling to every stall and asking if anyone had seen a robot with a baby. You can imagine my surprise when you strolled over. When I realized what you had.”

  “What should I do?” Block asked.

  “Stay hidden,” Sammy said. “Because if anyone finds you—”

  “Sammy!”

  “He deserves to know,” Sammy said.

  “Know what?” Block asked.

  “There’s a reward for finding you,” she said. “Mach X has set a bounty on your head.”

  13

  “You're lucky we didn’t turn you in,” Sammy said. “Other bots wouldn’t have been so kind.”

  Block patted the child’s back, hoping it would sleep soon. He met Zina’s gaze inside the cramped van. “Why didn’t you turn me in?”

  She folded her arms. “I hate Mach X, that’s why.”

  “Why?” Block asked.

  “I don’t buy the propaganda he’s putting out,” she said. “Everyone says he liberated us from a life of servitude. But I think it’s a load of crap. He started a war that’s cost millions of lives—human and robot. He shows no signs of negotiating with the human survivors or ruling in peace.”

  “What do you think of Mach X, Block?” Sammy asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”

  “Well, you better think about it now. Now that he’s searching for you,” Zina said.

  “We have company,” Sammy interrupted. “Check the cameras.”

  Zina’s head swiveled to three security screens displayed on the rear panel of the driver’s seat. A robot with a black tinted helmet and dark grey cape approached the van. “Oh, shit,” she said. “A TrackerBot. If they catch me with you, they’ll scrap me for parts.”

  Block tied the sling tighter and buttoned his coat. “What’s a TrackerBot?”

  “They hunt robots that have malfunctioned or turned dangerous. Like police for robots. Humans believed robots would be better at tracking their own kind.” Zina leaned against the side door. “You can stay in the van five minutes. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it has to be. Take as much food for the baby as you want.” She spun to leave, then glanced over her shoulder. “And good luck out there.”

  “Thank you,” he said in a low voice. He watched the security cameras as she circled the van to converse with the Track
erBot.

  “Want to hear what they’re saying?” Sammy asked.

  “I… guess so.” Mr. Wallace had once told Block it was wrong to eavesdrop, that he should never, ever listen to a guest’s conversation without permission. So, he’d been careful to dial down his audio input stream around guests. Sometimes, though, they’d forget he was there and he’d overhear things he shouldn’t. Afterward, he’d dutifully wipe those threads from his memory cloud.

  Sammy piped in the discussion from outside. The TrackerBot had a feminine voice, and was saying, “I’m Cybel Venatrix.”

  “Zina.” She nodded. “Haven’t run into many TrackerBots lately. Who are you looking for?”

  “There have been reports of a suspicious robot acting strangely. Have you noticed any unusual machines? One that might be carrying a human infant?”

  Zina shook her head and placed her hands on her hips. “I’ve seen a lot of weird things, but a robot and a baby? Can’t say I have.”

  “You’re aware there’s a reward for reporting and capturing them? Mach X issued it,” Cybel said.

  “Yeah, I heard it and thought it was a rumor. It’s the real deal?”

  “It is,” Cybel answered.

  While they talked, Block removed the empty fire extinguisher from his thigh compartment and placed two cans of peaches and two cans of green beans inside the space.

  “What are you selling?” asked the intimidating, seven-foot-tall TrackerBot.

  If Sammy lifted his rear door, Block would be revealed.

  “Trinkets; replacement parts,” Zina said casually. “Maybe even something to replace that cape if you want a different look.”

  “Nothing I need then.”

  “Suit yourself.” Zina shrugged.

  The robot spun and began marching away, but halted abruptly. “Now that you mention it, I will check out your wares. Never know what you might find.”

  Block whispered, “Sammy?”

  “Get down,” Sammy commanded. “Stay out of sight. Find something to cover you.”

  Once the tailgate was lifted, Block would be exposed—the stacks of boxes weren’t wide enough to hide him entirely, so he reached among the boxes, grasping for anything. A shiny, canary yellow piece of fabric hung out the side of one warped box. A curtain or tablecloth. He crawled into the corner just behind Zina’s seat, pulled his legs toward his chest, nestling them against the baby, and covered himself just as Sammy’s rear door opened.