Outbound Dream

Outbound Dream by Joshua Allen

Umer braced himself on a bulkhead between cars as the train chased its way up a hill like a wolf after a rabbit. The darkness of his skin hid him, but he had to remember to breathe. He stuffed his hand inside his coat and felt his chest. He was

on fire. A pit of molten lead sat inside his chest, nearly hot enough to scorch the flesh on his palm. He would never pass for human if he didn't breathe. Breathing also kept his chest temperature regulated. They would know if he was too hot. A hot chest was an easy tell. When humans greeted each other, they touched hands to hearts--always the right hand. Hearts, lungs, guts, organs--those things made a man a man. Umer had none of it. He concentrated on breathing. He forced himself to draw air in, activating the servos that caused his chest to rise; then, slowly, he exhaled. If someone were to catch him with his chest this hot, they would know he was a robot. Umer calmed himself. His chest began to return to normal temperature. His hand slipped into his inner pocket, certain that his gun had fallen out, somewhere in the dining car when he'd taken his coat off to eat. The metal, warmed by the intense heat of Umer's chest, greeted him. He traced the outline of the thing. Retromark 8000 series blast gun with a full complement of aluminum powder packages. Not a new gun, but known for its reliability, loved for the ease of finding ammunition. Anything aluminum could be turned into powder with a little tenacity. The gun was there. It was complete. Umer took a few more deep breaths and opened the door to the coach car.

He was in there. Umer had seen the man with the curly, golden locks board at Substation Yankee/Old Chicago. A drifter from the wastes, by the looks of him, but too immaculate. The drifter image was a mere disguise. Like the train, coursing through the night after invisible prey, this guy was a hunter. Umer tried making eye contact with the man briefly as he passed. Goldilocks pretended to be more interested in the midnight blur outside his window. Umer smiled. The hunter was trying to calm the prey by pretending he wasn't hungry. Umer hurried through the next joiner into the bedroom car. He stuffed his hand into his inner pocket. The gun was there. He hurried to his room. The door opened when he was close and Umer shuffled inside sideways. He put the bed down, stuffed it with pillows. A schoolboy's trick Umer had learned reading contraband books. This was why they were contraband. Robots started to feel, to realize right and wrong. Next, the robots would want to escape the dungeons. Umer had. Umer hurried out the door, around the corner and into a dark pocket. Now was a matter of waiting and listening. A door opened ten seconds later at the other end. Umer stuck his hand into his pocket. This time he brought the gun out. He would have to wait for the bedroom door to open. The footsteps paused, then retreated, heading back toward the coach car. Umer forced himself to breath. He pushed himself

up. The wolf was circling. Checking for witnesses, making sure it could make a clean kill on the hapless little bunny.. The footsteps returned. Umer heard the door open. Sometimes even rabbits fought back. He almost went, forced himself to count two full seconds. He went. He fired his gun three times when he saw the darkened mass with streaming golden locks of hair in front of him. The person turned, surprise frozen forever on her lovely face. Her. Not Goldilocks at all. She wasn't even at his door, but one two doors down. Umer felt the train slowing. He stopped breathing. He barely noticed. He bent down, checking for a pulse. The train was at a crawl now. They knew. This had been reported. They were coming for him. The woman was dead. Her cigarette still smoldering. She'd been checking for witnesses all right. Smoking on a train was illegal. Umer put his hand on her head. He told himself he should breathe, but couldn't do it. He didn't deserve it. "Substation 17, Melonia/East Pittsburgh. Melonia and East Pittsburgh Last stop until New Bangor," the voice on the intercom said. Umer breathed. They weren't after him. They were stopping for some breakwater town. He pocketed the gun. He waited, standing there over the body of the poor woman he'd killed.

Someone would come through that door this second and see him. He didn't know if it would be Goldilocks, but he had a pretty strong suspicion it would be. Goldy had done this to him. Set him up. Goldy was probably hiding at the end of the hall right now, biting back the laughter at how easy Umer had been to fool. Umer covered his mouth, feeling for his breath. How could he just leave her here, dead? It wasn't fair. She was young and beautiful, nothing like the women who had come to the Pleasure Dungeons at Tahoe, on the coast. Nothing like the things that had called themselves humans but had really been something like monsters in rubber human masks. Umer shook his head. When no one appeared in the car, he knew he would be able to get away with what he had done. He had killed yet again. It was his lot in life. Always causing pain, never being punished. The emotions of humanity dogged him, but none of the restraint. He'd been designed by other robots to fulfill the fantasies of humans, which meant he couldn't hesitate to do whatever people wanted. Now that he was free of the dungeons, he was free of the control, but training was harder to overcome. This was not the first person he'd killed, but Umer vowed she would be the last. The train was nearly stopped. Umer closed her eyes with the heel of his hand and lifted her up into her sleep room with a sense of numb duty. He backed away to let the door close. There

wasn't even a spot of blood in the hall. It had all gone inside her room or stayed inside her body. Lucky break. Umer pocketed his gun. His chest was on fire now. He hurried back the way he'd come, still not convinced that Goldilocks wasn't lying in ambush for him. He reached the bulkhead just as the train jerked to a stop and the airbrakes hissed. He exited the train onto waystation platform. Bright blue arcs of electricity zapping up twin antennas over the open concession stands lit the platform. Umer hurried to the first. He didn't have much money, but he had even less time. "Large cup of ice." "Seventy-five." The man behind the counter was missing half his face. He'd had a nanotattoo of the Virgin Mary put in the flap of skin where his face should have been. The mark of the Christers. Not a man to be trifled with. Umer forked over seventy-five, three quarters of his holdings and got back a cup no taller than the width of two fingers containing two ice cubes. "I said large." The man snarled. "You got two, didn't you? Ice don't grow on stems." "Trees." "'Scuse me?"

Umer sighed. "It's 'doesn't grow on trees.'" The man reached under his booth. Umer didn't wait around to see what the man kept there, because he already had a pretty good idea. The Blood of Christ, most likely. Not that Umer had anything to fear, directly, from the blood. But his lack of reaction would probably be worse for him. Umer hurried away and dumped the two ice cubes into his shirt. He rubbed them around, trying desperately to cool his chest. The door to the local branch of the OCB could be close, and he couldn't go in there hot enough to fry bacon on his chest. It would be a dead giveaway. This town wasn't where he wanted to be. He wanted to get to Centrailia, or maybe all the way to Atlanta, on the southern coast,

Umer hid on the edge of

the waystation booths. No one else debarked. Umer forced himself to breathe, feeling like he had just dodged a bullet. The train started to move, electricity zapping between the solar-static collectors on top of the train and the electric arcs lighting the platform, making an artificial lightning show--beautiful and deadly. Someone jumped off the train onto the platform just before the train was gone into the wastes. Goldilocks. Umer felt his gun. He didn't know the man. As far as he knew, the man was visiting home. People still lived even in places like this. Not just Christers and Scavengers either, but

real people. Umer looked down through the alley. Lights dotted some of the windows closest to the platform. A candle flickered in one window, burning on rendered fat from some unfortunate beast out in the wastes. In another a cold fusion powered bulb provided meager light on whatever scraps its owner could pull from the empty apartments around him. Umer looked back. Goldilocks was talking to the Christer, who pointed to where Umer was hiding. Umer had run out of time to decide. It was fight or flight. He put his hand on the shaped handle of his gun. Shaped for someone else's hand. Shaped for a human, one who had lived long ago when such antiques were the rule rather than relics. An image of the woman in the train flashed through his mind. Umer remembered how she looked in death. No longer beautiful, but it was obvious she had been. All the death he had caused against his will. It ended now. Goldilocks approached. Umer turned and ran. * * * Umer hid out in an abandoned multiplex housing unit in Melonia whose seals were still relatively intact and would provide adequate protection in case some of the radioactive sand decided to kick up in a tornado and slam the town. Radioactivity had little effect on Umer or any robot, but too much of anything toxic was bad for the central neural net.

Umer sat on the floor of the empty room. He blocked the sounds of the roaches skittering across the floor, and the sounds of the spiders that stalked them. He blocked sound of the wind outside, spreading and diffusing the poison of the world. He focused on controlling himself. Breathing slowly in and out. He no longer had the capability of seeing a visual readout of his core temperature, as his robot eyes had been replaced with real ones. In the dungeons, internal warmth had been no disadvantage. The dungeons were ice caves. The warmth had been a physical comfort to its visitors. His artificial warmth forced them to try to be as close to him as possible to combat the cold around them. The cold, in turn, had kept his warmth manageable. Umer didn't know if there was an Outbound Control Bunker still functioning in the area, but it was a good bet. The Federation, the conglomeration of planets that constituted the majority of human settlements, had brokered a deal with the Machine Intelligence that no matter what, people would always have a way of getting of Earth. Not everyone could abandon Earth, of course. No matter how things had gotten, there would always be holdouts. The Federation had decided not to judge any of those people. They simply kept the OCBs open and sent regular envoys to each and everyone. Like a patient parent, they waited with arms open.

The robots were another matter altogether. There weren't many robots on Earth. Earth no longer had the resources or facilities to produce its own, so the ones that were there had been put there by the Machine Intelligence for very specific reasons. Most of them were like Umer, were pleasure bots from the dungeons. A few were HKs, Hunter Killers designed to enforce a kind of justice. A smattering of service robots, usually some variation of HK or pleasure bot, dotted some of the more successful remaining colonies. All of them were hated by all but the elites who still lived on Earth, but more to the point all were hated and feared by the Federation. They wanted no part of Earth's HK justice, and they wanted no part of Earth's supposed pleasure dungeons. Robots were not allowed off Earth in any Outbound slipliner. Unless... Umer put the thought aside. He didn't need unless..., because of what he had done to get the modifications he had. His modifications would pass him as human, at least long enough to get him Outbound. Once he was on his way, he was certain, even if they discovered his true identity, they would let him stay. He would prove to them his worth, his kindness, his changed ways. They would not be able to destroy him. Their hearts would not let them.

First, Umer had to get to the OCB, then he had to convince whoever was running it to send the subspace signal for pickup. That meant he had to be very careful. Goldilocks was out there. Goldilocks was most likely not an HK, but a human working for the elite, charged with tracking him down and punishing him for the crimes of murder and passing. Umer relaxed his neural network. The thought of Goldilocks upset him, but he had to be calm. If he had to kill Goldy, he would. He didn't want to. He would give Goldy every opportunity. But he would be Outbound. He had to be. * * * Umer was alert of himself and of his surroundings as he trekked through the broken, wasted streets of Melonia. He has scoured the town and had become convinced of two things: Goldilocks had lost him, and there was no OCB in Melonia. Umer wasn't worried. It meant simply that he had to push through town to East Pittsburgh. The towns were adjacent, so the OCB had to be there. East Pittsburgh, was separated from Melonia by a wide, dry riverbed, over which a collapsing bridge spanned. Umer opted for crossing under the bridge. He would feel too exposed up on the open space of the bridge, or crossing the wide, empty flat riverbed. The bridge offered his only protection. He crossed at a run, forcing himself to breathe heavily. He would be hot from

the exertion, but it was a necessary exertion. He hoped there weren't too many humans on the other side who would have cause to be suspicious. Many, such as the Christers, were wary of robots. These outlier communities felt nothing but hatred for robots, much like their kindred in the Federation. They wouldn't hesitate to kill him. Then there were the Scavengers. Everyone had to watch their ass around those guys, or so Umer had been told. On the other side, Umer found a building he could hide from the sun and cool himself. He slipped inside. Several eyes turned up toward him. Umer's hand went for his gun on impulse, but he stayed it without pulling his weapon. The eyes were all vertical. The people were lying on the floor. There were maybe a dozen people, all lying there. None of them moved when Umer entered. For a long moment, no one moved. They stared up at him, Umer scanned them, waiting for something to happen. Umer realized with a jolt that if there was going to be movement, it would have to be he that made it. These people were infirm. Umer finally let his hand fall away from his weapon. He crossed the room lightly, tip-toeing through the people who were unable to move on their own. A woman entered the far side. Their eyes met and they froze. "No!" she said suddenly. "No! You leave them alone."

Umer put his hands up. "I'm not an HK," he told her. HKs were known to kill the infirm. Law of the land. Certain diseases received no treatment. In the Federation, of course, there were no such diseases. Her eyes narrowed. "What do you want?" "I'm just looking for the OCB. That's all." The woman, middle aged, had streaks of gray running through her hair that gave her a ghostly appearance, like Umer had read about in a contraband book. She was striking, nonetheless. Beautiful in a matronly way. Umer's human neural core longed for her to hold him and pet his hair. It was a feeling he'd never experienced before. "The OCB? Why would you want that? No one leaves from East Pittsburgh anymore." Umer was aware that occasionally OCBs had ceased their original functions and had become, simply, places where criminals tried to escape punishment. They were bastions of technology, light, and power in the wastes. They were holy ground, of a sort. There were stories of Scavengers and others trying to assault or lay siege to or even penetrate with subterfuge, but such attempts always ended in death. Whether the OCBs were defended by the Machine Intelligence or just very diligent humans was a matter of debate, if not outright legend.

"I want to be Outbound. This is where I ended up. Do I need further explanation?" The woman finally broke her stalemate. She offered water to one of the infirm. She approached him. She looked into his eyes with scrutiny. "Come with me," she said at last. Umer followed her out, through an alley filled with dust. She led him to a building that looked destroyed from the outside. There was a wooden door on the ground. It might have been discarded there years ago. The only thing that might tip someone off to its true nature was the fact that no scavenger had dared to touch it. The woman pulled the door open. There were steps. Lights along their ridges illuminated when the door opened. Umer crouched and could see the gun-metal gray door with a ring of lights arching over it. "I though OCBs weren't to be hidden like this." "As I said, no one comes here looking to go Out. Only criminals come to this area. Criminals and Christers. And the occasional HK. All hate my work here. I lost three poor souls last month to Scavenger." Umer heard a noise. When he looked up, he found himself staring into the barrel of a gun. It was not any kind of gun he'd ever seen. It was enormous and appeared to use some form of

chemical propulsion. It looked like it would smash through walls and gouge flesh. "When you defended yourself, your reaction was to claim you were not an HK. Why would you deny being an HK before anything else?" Umer breathed. "I have heard that HKs come and exterminate hospitals such as yours." "You're a robot." "No." "Open your coat, slowly." Umer did. She took his gun and stuffed it into the pocket of her dress. She pressed the barrel of her hand cannon against his temple and reached for his chest. He grabbed her hand, preventing her from touching him. He felt the gun press deeper into his temple. "Please," he begged. Her hand was insistent. He relaxed his grip, letting her arm pass through his cupped hand. Her fingers splayed, she pressed her hand against his chest where his heart should have been. Umer forced himself to breathe. She held her hand against his chest for a several long seconds. He was still warm from the running. He was too hot. "You're sick," she said. He shook his head slowly.

"You're sick," she repeated with more emphasis. Umer looked up into her eyes. "You're sick," she said a third time. "I'm sick." "I'm Lucinda," she said after she lowered the gun. "Follow me." She led him down the stairs. She punched some keys on a pad. She covered the keypad with her body, but Umer could tell by the sound what the code was. 6817. She passed him and motioned for him to follow. Inside, the OCB was in a sad state. There was a long hallway. Most of the lights had been burned out. She led him past closed dorm doors to an ancient bathroom. There were two, one for each sex, but one had the fixtures ripped out and was little more than stray pipes and a pile of broken glass. "What happened?" Umer couldn't help but ask. The woman pressed her finger to her lips. "I had to sell the fixtures to Scavengers," she whispered. "But why?" "The people here are not going to leave. They will stay until the Federation finally decides to have done with Earth. It was more important to help them than to keep this place in tip top condition." Umer followed her inside the functioning bathroom.

She indicated for him to sit on a padded chair that was by the sink. He did so. "You're from Old Chicago?" she asked. "Tahoe." "The dungeons?" she asked. Umer nodded. She sighed deeply, the pain of all humanity, it seemed, forced out between her lips. "And you want off-planet?" "More than anything." "Is anyone after you?" she asked after washing her hands. He shrugged. "I have people in here. I need to know." "A man. He has long blond hair. I've been calling him Goldilocks after a girl in a book I have read." "Book, huh? At least now I see why you're here. You got a little bit of knowledge and couldn't live with it anymore. That about right?" "Please don't belittle me," he said. "I'm going to go lock the door. Run your head under this water. You haven't been breathing properly." Umer did as instructed. He listened patiently for her return while the cool water flowed over him. Water was a scarce commodity, but OCBs had enough of it. Enough to give it to everyone on the planet, it seemed. No one knew where it came

from. Some supposed elaborate underground pipes leading from glaciers, some guessed a system of geothermal condensation. Others thought the Machine Intelligence could simply make it, artificially. Umer opened his eyes and pretended he could look through the ceiling of the OCB, out to the deep space, and the stars. What wonders did the Federation hold? What technology did they possess that Earth did not? He knew only supposition, only hints. Lucinda returned. She brought carried a sponge with her. She used it to clean him. "We all have heard stories of robots trying to pass as humans to get off planet. Take off your coat and your shirt." Umer took of his shirt. Lucinda sponged him, washing away the grime and dirt of his travels, the filth of the things he'd done to get to here. "Your pants." Umer hesitated, then removed his socks and shoes, and finally his pants. He sat down on the plastic chair, feeling the texture on his skin. Uncomfortable because she was still clothed. She cleansed him, cooled his chest. "Breathe," she reminded him. He breathed.

"You thought you'd come out to our little breakwater and get the hicks to call in the Outbound slipliners to haul you out, how right am I?" I wanted to hide in the city. "Then you're a fool," She laughed. "They'd have seen you coming a mile away. Breathe. You have to work on that. You have to, if you're going to pass. How long on a slipliner before they figure it out and jettison you." "They won't," Umer said. "I will show them my humanity. They won't." She put the sponge down and extracted his pistol from her pocket. It fit her hand perfectly, as though it had been designed for the hand of a woman or a young man. In a flash, she stripped it, put it back together faster than he had ever seen anyone do. "Aluminum powder charges? Where did you find this antique? Haven't seen one of these since the NATO-PAC war." "You were in the NATO-PAC war? You'd have to be..." "Fifty-seven. Ancient for a human on this planet, right?" "It's a reliable piece," Umer replied, "We don't have much choice on the West Coast." She set the gun on the counter, near his head. "They say in the Federation, people live centuries." "You want me to take you with you?" Umer guessed. "You want me to find someone to replace you here?"

"You ever killed?" she asked Umer nodded slowly, his eyes cast down. He was aware of his nakedness. Shame was a new feeling, one he'd learned quickly, from fragments and stories of other worlds, and other people. Lucinda leaned down next to his ear and whispered. "Then why shouldn't I kill you?" "You need my help." Umer was still guessing. "Yes." He rolled his head toward her and let her kiss him. There was no pleasure in it for Umer. There were bad dreams. Associations. Horrible, horrible associations. But there were also old habits, tricks his body knew, things he could do if she asked the right questions. She took him into a private bedroom that had the warm smell of comfort. Her room. She asked the right questions. * * * Umer woke up. He felt his chest. It was a little warm. It cycled up and down like a real chest, the silent servos reproduced the sound of lung activity realistically enough to fool even a doctor, assuming he was inclined not to listen too closely. Umer felt the mattress next to him. The space was empty and cool to the touch, but not cold. A light, probably an artificial Sun, shone through the window. He could hear activity lilting

down the hallway. Voices. Confused he arose, naked. She had told him there were people here, and yet she had been suspicious of his motives. A clean change of clothes lay folded next to the door. Umer put them on. He scanned the room briefly for his gun. It wasn't there. Umer felt his chest again. He was breathing, but too warm. Maybe something was wrong. Maybe all the modifications he'd gotten were burning him up. In the hallway, Umer followed the smells of food--nothing like the meals he used to smell in the dungeons, during the bacchanalian feasts, but something passable. He entered a dining room which contained one very long table lined with children. Two young people a little older than the others were sitting on the opposite end of the table, holding hands. The boy was maybe fourteen and the girl thirteen. The others eleven or twelve at the most. A little girl stood up. She waved her hand at Umer. She ran toward him and threw herself up at him. He caught the little ball of energy. "Is your name God?" Umer found the question too perplexing to answer. "I heard Mother saying 'God, God, God' last night. And you are the only new one here."

Umer set the girl down. He beamed a look at Lucinda, who was ignoring the conversation, though the blush in her cheeks betrayed the fact that she'd heard. "Sit and eat children. New Friend and I have to discuss something in private," Lucinda told the crowd of children. They obeyed, with some additional prodding from the two oldest. Lucinda motioned and once again Umer followed. In the bathroom again, Lucinda gave him back his gun. "I will vouch for your humanity." Umer couldn't believe it. This was the unless... he had never allowed himself to hope for. Outbound slipliners would take any robot who was vouched for by an OCB controller. Only no one had ever heard of it happening. Even with his mods, his illegal knowledge, and everything else--this woman vouching for his humanity cleared him. It was a free pass off this world, to another place. His choosing. "Why?" "Because of what you're going to do for me." "And what is that?" "You're going to take those children with you." "Surely they don't need me," he said, confused. "You're afraid of sending them out alone?" She shook her head. She showed him a device he had never seen before. "Watch."

She led him back down the hall. At the door to the dining room, she stopped. Umer could hear the sound of the children through the door. They were laughing, eating, and enjoying life like no robot could. Lucinda entered a code on the pad. The noise on the other side of the door ceased suddenly. Umer heard a plate crash to the ground and smash into atoms. Lucinda opened the door. The oldest boy held a spoon of gruel. It dripped slowly off his spoon, landing on his lap. He was frozen in that pose. One child was frozen with a complex mixture of laughter and disbelief painted on her face. Umer entered the room. He put his hand on a child's face. The face was warm to the touch, lifelike. He put his hand on the boy's chest. Warm, but no warmer than a normal human. But the child's joints were stiff, his body frozen. "Robot children?" Umer tried to envision an explanation, but couldn't. "How?" "I'm a stupid old woman is how. I got so tired of the killing and the death, I joined the NATO-Gov-Ops to try to help put an end to the war. I was young. I though I could singlehandedly save Earth. We could end the war, get Federation membership once and for all." She entered the room. She touched a small girl's hair. She kissed it lightly. "We made them as decoys to fight the PAC."

"I never knew that." "No one did. Because I didn't let it happen. I made excuses why the project wasn't ready. The truth was they are the best, most human robots ever made. Human eyes, human organs. Neural nets buried in simulated brain tissue." "Then send them Out," Umer said. "You don't need my help." She shook her head. "Why?" "We've been hiding here for the last ten years. I'm scared. If I signal the Outbound slipliners, it's like putting a flag up. None of them will make it, because before they someone will come in here and kill them." "Weren't you afraid that I was here to kill them?" She shrugged. "You're a robot. I can deal with robots." She waved the device in her hand. "I was a designer. We all know rumors of the multidimensional robots and Mind Brains designed by the Machine Intelligence that supposedly powers the slipliners and communication centers in the Federation, but here on Earth, robots are not made for those functions. They're made to look human. For that, I was the best. I could shut you off now. I could reprogram you. Yes, even with all your mods. But I would destroy the work you've done. You're close." Umer nodded, understanding. "Close to being able to pass, you mean?"

"Yes." "I still don't understand." "It's like you said, Umer. You can convince them, through your humanity. You know you're a robot. You know what you'd have to do to make them believe that you will not hurt them. Even with me vouching for you, you will have to convince them. I will help you learn what you don't yet know. Once you are Outbound, you will teach them." "They don't know they are robots, do they," Umer asked. Lucinda could only shake her head. "And they can't. I can't tell them. They can't know until they are away." She burst into tears. "They can't know until they are far enough away from me never to look at me and accuse me with their eyes. I can't bear to feel their hatred on me." Umer lifted Lucinda up into his arms and hugged her while the unanimated children sat frozen, staring at them. "I will try to help. As best I can." * * * That night, Lucinda sent out word for an Outbound slipliner. Number of passengers: 12. She gave details only of Umer. She hoped it would be enough to keep them hidden. She then put the children to sleep, and again deactivated them. She told them in the morning a ship would come in about a week and take them away. She cried as she put them to sleep. The ship would

take a month, at least, to arrive. But to them, it would be less time. The next day, Umer began lessons. There was much to learn and little time. Lucinda first set him up on breathing exercises. He had to learn to breath consistently. He had the equipment for breathing, but lacked the training to use it properly. For hours, while she tended to her infirm in the hospital above, he breathed. When Lucinda was satisfied with his breathing exercises, which she tested by laying next to him all night long. If he stopped for even an instant, she would awaken. Her ability was uncanny. Years of training in developing the robots to be human she told him as they made love. Umer learned that it could be good. For all his negative associations, all his experiences, he could found he could enjoy sex, and that he still had things to learn. He had to learn to be vulnerable, to connect with the other person's vulnerability. At night he learned intimate connection with someone he came to knew very well. In the day, he learned how to have compassion with strangers. He began to help Lucinda in the infirmary, nursing the sick, comforting the dying. He wore a mask and pretended to take precautions against their diseases, though he had nothing to fear from any organic virus or bacteria.

The time passed, longer than they had promised. A month came and went, then two. Lucinda began to worry that they weren't coming at all. Umer comforted her. They would come. They would be there very soon. She was worried, but happy at his progress. She told him he was human. He wouldn't even need the voucher. He would pass without. In fact, it was a good idea for him to keep the voucher a secret as long as possible. The voucher would bias them. "Teach them to love you, to need you with your humanity. If it comes down to showing them the voucher or being ejected into space, show them." Umer nodded, understanding. "How long should I wait to tell the children?" "One week. No longer. They will need to know soon. You will have much to teach them. They will be shocked. They will hate me. Tell them everything. Then teach them everything." Umer nodded. He kissed Lucinda. That night, while they made love, the lights on the communication boards switched from red to blue. The slipliner was near. * * * Lucinda woke the children when she saw the array of blue lights. They had a week, maybe less, before the slipliner arrived.

Umer had other worries. That morning also brought back feelings of dread in Umer. He remembered his train trip and the man he called Goldilocks when he exited the OCB that morning and found a single strand of golden hair on the steps. He knew it had been no accident. Goldy was letting him know he was still around, waiting. Lucinda insisted it was a coincidence, that they were too close to fail. Umer was worried. He scouted the area, looking for some hint of the man, but found nothing. Goldilocks was nearby, but too well hidden. Umer patrolled at night, looking, watching, planning their escape. The slipliner would land out, away from the buildings, in a space of open ground. They would have to cross the mostly barren zone to get to the ship. There were several crumbling buildings they could use as cover. They would have to keep as much brick between them and the main part of town as they could. If Goldilocks had a sniper rifle, they would be easy pickings as they crossed the savannah. The boy, who's name was Todd, warmed to Umer quickly. Umer knew that the boy would be valuable when they got on the slipliner. Umer would tell Todd the truth first. Todd would help him teach the younger ones. Umer didn't sleep, and showed no after effects from his lack of sleep. Lucinda was worried.

"You can't do this on the slipliner. Not sleeping will be a dead giveaway." "I'll be okay. I'll sleep when we are on the ship." "Umer, these habits will get you and the children killed." "Lucinda, you have to trust me." * * * The slipliner came into view over East Pittsburgh and caused a little commotion, but not of people coming to see, of people evacuating. Slipliners were considered bad luck to Scavengers and Christers. Some people thought slipliners came to capture people and put them into slavery. They saw the people who willingly left via the OCBs as sucker who would be sold into slavery as soon as the doors closed. Umer watched the slipliner descend. The first wall they could use for cover was seventy-three yards from the OCB door. The next was another twenty-five yards. They would be in the clear after that. The first seventy-three yards would be the worst. If they were going to be attacked, Umer felt it would be in that first leg. He scanned the area, checking the buildings, but found no trace of Goldilocks. He felt no comfort in this. The man was there, hiding somewhere. Umer was certain. Umer went inside the OCB. Lucinda was there with the children, wishing them a goodbye.

Umer pulled her aside and gave her his gun. "You'll need this. I won't be able to take it on the slipliner." "No, Umer." "That gun you have is more likely to blow up in your face. When is the last time you used it?" She shook her head. "It doesn't even have ammunition. I hate death. I hate war. I hate it all. I won't take your gun." "The HKs might come for you, when word reaches them that this is where you are. They won't care that the kids escaped. They'll come to punish you." "I don't care, Umer. I've lived long. If you and the children escape, then whatever happens to me will have been worth it. Only the hope that I could somehow get the children off this planet has kept me going all this time." Umer kissed her. She kissed back. "Come with us." "I can't." The ground shook. The slipliner had landed. "Go. They won't wait long." Umer hesitated. How could he leave her? But he knew he had to. She wanted it this way. He had to help the children. Maybe they wouldn't make it without him. Umer stood by the door to the OCB. He opened it. He squatted a moment, waiting. Todd put a hand on his shoulder. "I know you're a robot, Mr. Umer."

Umer froze. He looked at Todd. "How?" "Mother Lucinda told us. Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. To me, you are a human." Umer looked the boy in the eye. His words caught in his throat. He wanted to tell Todd the truth, but couldn't. Time was short. There would be plenty of time in space. Time enough. Umer broke out. He drew his weapon, scanning the building. No shots came. He motioned for Todd to bring the children out. They broke in a single-file line for the first shelter. Seventy-three yards. When the last child was past him. Umer spun. Lucinda was at the door, face wet. "Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone." She nodded, but he knew she would emerge again someday. The infirm nearby needed her. The door closed. Umer sprinted across the savannah, keeping low. The children huddled behind the shelter like he'd shown them the previous day. Umer reached the wall and spun. He aimed, looking for a glint of metal, something that would signal a rifle scope, some indication that Goldy was onto them. Nothing happened. Umer motioned for the children to go. They made the next cover. Umer looked back. Something was wrong. Something wasn't sitting right in his gut. They were close now. They were practically home free.

But something was wrong. Then Umer saw it. A man emerged from the infirmary, dressed in the rags of the infirm. The man had his head shaved to look sick. Umer recognized him as a man he'd helped, a man who had been there as long as he, suffering, sick, coughing blood. All an act. It was Goldilocks. His head shaved. He'd been there the whole time, biding his time, waiting for the opportunity. He wasn't coming for them at all. He was making straight for the OCB. Had Lucinda locked the door? He had a feeling she hadn't. Goldy didn't need to attack them outright. He could go into the OCB, kill Lucinda, and tell the slipliner the truth. They would jettison Umer and the children before they were even out of the Earth's atmosphere, voucher or no. Umer grabbed Todd. "Wait here. Lucinda is in trouble." "No, Umer. Don't leave us." "I have to." "Please. We won't know how to pass." Umer looked Todd over. "You know?" The boy nodded. "The others?" Todd shook his head. "Wait here, Todd. There will be other slipliners. Wait here for me. If the ship leaves, wait."

Umer sprinted across the sand as quickly as he could, which was plenty fast. He hit the door of the OCB. Locked. He punched in the code. 6817. She had known then what he was even then, he remembered. She had told him the code on the first day. She had let him hear it. She wanted this. The door clicked. It didn't matter her motivation, Umer needed her. He burst through the door. Down the hall he ran, gun extended. He went through the door. He saw golden locks of curly hair reflecting in the artificial sunlight. Umer fired, turning gold into crimson. He held his breath as the scene birthed itself to him. Golden locks of hair. Her hair. He saw the rictus of surprise painted on her face as she fell. But no. That was a bad memory. The figure fell to the floor. A man's face. Surprise yes, and the face was effeminate, but a man's face none-the-less. The golden locks hadn't been shaved, but hidden. Shaking, Umer dropped his gun. Lucinda was cowering by the oven in her ancient kitchen, her white hair undone, flowing down her back. Untouched. She looked up to Umer. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't die at the end. I called for you. To come and save me. 'Umer,' I said. 'Please come.' And you came."

Umer spread his arms. She ran to them and embraced him. The ground shook. She looked up at him. "The children." The went to the door. The children were gone. They had gone on their own. "They won't make it," she said. "They will be found out." "No," Umer said. "Todd knew. He figured it out on his own. If he can figure that out, he can teach himself what he needs to know. You said it yourself that no one knows of any children robots. The slipliner won't be suspicious." "I'll send a signal in the next cycle, Umer. We'll get you off the planet on your own." Umer embraced her. "I don't need to go. You need my help here. You taught me how to be human, now it's all I want." He kissed her. She touched his chest. It felt normal. He was breathing hard from exertion. "Maybe we taught each other," she said.

THE END