Cryo-Man (Cryo-Man series, #1) (34 page)

Mom’s eyes widen, for once not due to fear or anger. Instead, I think I recognize a look of hope.

“Are you associating any past memories with it?” she asks.

“I… I don’t know. I think there’s something but I… I just can’t grasp it,” I say.

Some of that hope vanishes but she still smiles; I can’t tell if it’s forced or not.

“That’s good. I mean, it
has
to be good, right? If seeing this place is helping, then opening your Heaven Box
must
unlock your memories,” she says. “Well, depending on what’s inside it, I mean.”

“
You
recognize this area?” I ask. “From the pictures you saw?”

Mom nods. “Ahead of us is a high ridge. If I’m correct about where we are – and I’m certain I am – your box should be somewhere beyond that ridge. We need to be on the lookout for a river and a large tree on the other side of the hill.”

For a moment I feel light-headed, like I’ve been holding my breath too long. Excitement courses through my metallic limbs. It takes every ounce of restraint I possess to stop from running – full speed – across the rest of the fields. I peek above the crops long enough to see the ridge. It’s only a few hundred feet away, a few hundred feet until I end the odyssey that’s taken nearly six years to complete. For that matter, this journey really began
hundreds
of years ago when I died.

I don’t know how many hundreds of miles I’ve traveled but I feel like I can cover the rest of the ground in a few leaps. Mom pulls me down, once again proving how well she can read me. My lone memory comes to mind – Henry’s smiling face as I chase him – as does the photograph of both sons from my folder. It’s been years since I saw it. For a long time, the memory of what the photo looked like had faded from my mind. Now, I remember it as clearly as ever. If being in this strange land is already helping my memory, I can’t imagine what crossing that ridge and digging up the Heaven Box will do.

“More than anything, I want to remember the time I spent with my sons and my wife,” I say, hoping she’ll understand the reason for my excitement. “Anything else I learn about their lives would be icing on the cake.”

This is usually where Mom tells me to slow down, not to take any foolish risks. But now she simply nods. The longing in her eyes has returned, as well as the glistening of tears.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I should be more sensitive about your past. I just wish there were a way you could – ”

Mom shakes her head. “Don’t apologize, I’m not upset because of that. I just want you to get your memories back. I’ve been in this as long as you, it’s the end of a long journey for both of us.”

The old woman once again shows a softer side. I’m not sure how to respond. Despite her constant criticism and foul mood along the way, she’s put just as much into getting here as I have. She’s undoubtedly living her life vicariously through me, for which I’ll be eternally grateful, yet also sad. My Heaven Box might be close but I vow at this moment that our journey together won’t end here.

“I promise we’ll find a way to learn about your past, too,” I say.

Mom smiles and begins to push her way through the crops. I follow slowly, at our normal pace, but I soon fall behind. Mom moves faster than usual, so fast that she apparently doesn’t hear the robot that intercepts her. I hear the crush of metal and rush to catch up. She looks at me, eyes wide with fear, as she holds the severed metallic head of a field worker.

The robot’s body still tries to move, creating a louder ruckus with every second that passes. I spring to action, ripping out its core with a single swipe.

“What do we do?” she asks, for once at a loss.

I listen for the sound of other robots but hear nothing.

“Maybe we got lucky and none of the others are around,” I say. “Look at it, it’s an older model, that’s probably why it got stuck working out here instead of going with the army. Nobody is going to miss it.”

I drop to my knees and begin to dig, moving enough dirt in a few seconds to shove the metallic body inside. I quickly fill in the hole before taking Mom’s hand and moving on. A part of me still expects a rush of robots to head our way but we reach the bottom of the ridge without incident. The crops come to an end, which also brings an end to our cover.

“Should we wait for the sun to set before moving on?” I ask.

I figure there’s only about an hour of light remaining. Sure, it’ll be the longest hour of my life but staying hidden is clearly the most cautious possible decision.

“Nobody’s around,” Mom says. “And if the other robots realize one of their own is missing, we’ll want to be as far from here as possible.”

She surprises me again by stepping into the open and heading up the steep ridge. She only needs a few leaps to reach the top. I follow suit, my mind racing about the endless possibilities I’ll find beyond the ridge. But I no sooner reach the top when I see Mom standing still, mouth slightly agape as she looks at the ground below. Though the smog is heaviest in this stretch of land, I still see enough to experience the phantom feeling of my stomach sinking. I’m so shocked that I barely hear Mom whisper a pair of words.

“Oh, no.”

An explosion of anger erupts within me, bred from months of suppressed worry. My sudden disappointment is crushing and feels like it’s been ripped out of my worst possible nightmare. Words of rage spew out of my mouth before I have a chance to consider what I’m saying.

             
“Did you bring me here on purpose?” I snap at the old woman. “Did you set me up?”

             
But a single look is all I need to realize that Mom is just as shocked as I am. Despite what’s on the landscape beneath us, I focus on the rest of the ridge and Robot Road, which cuts through the ridge several hundred yards to our right. Worried this might be a setup, I search for any sign of a raiding party. Instead, I find the ridge empty and the road mostly so. Only a few random robots – all of them busted in one way or another –limp slowly in the direction of the walls below.

             
Those walls are huge and enclose a massive compound that looks like a mini-city, which contains several dozen large buildings. The first building I notice is the largest of all, a factory directly in the center. Smoke billows from nearly a dozen stacks atop the building; it doesn’t take a genius to figure out where all the smog comes from. Smaller buildings litter the grounds and countless beings – robot and human alike – move among them. Though it looks like a metropolis, there’s no concrete on the ground, which is made of dirt and dust that hangs at ground level like an earthen fog. There’s no doubt in my mind that we’ve reached the place that E called Robotropolis.

But it’s not the man-made – or robot-made – features that interest me most. The river Mom mentioned cuts through the city. Even from far away, I can tell that the water is filthy, heavily polluted from the factories. Spanning the river is a small footbridge, which leads to a smaller area of land that includes a mansion. Though the huge house seems out of place, my eyes are drawn to what’s next to the river at the far end of the compound.

A single large tree remains standing, though it’s tilted at such an extreme angle that I wonder how gravity hasn’t dragged it down yet. Large roots have exploded from the ground near the tree’s base. The exposed roots pulled away part of the riverbank, leaving a small pool of water gathered near the base of the tree. With water eroding the dirt, I imagine it won’t be long until the tree collapses and is swept downriver.

I’ve seen thousands upon thousands of trees during my journey and didn’t pay attention to the majority of them. That’s why I’m so confused that my gaze remains on the lone tree. The spot where my heart once was feels sadness knowing the tree won’t survive much longer.

While looking at the dipping tree, the fog in my brain clears for a split second. In my mind, I see the tree standing upright, I see the river water blue and sparkling in the sunlight, I see the compound gone, the area replaced with green grasses and rows upon rows of vines growing in perfectly straight lines. But it’s the tree I remember most clearly, standing beneath it, watching the sun shine through the branches as my skin – and my heart – are filled with a warmth unlike any I’ve ever –

“How dare you accuse me?” Mom says, snapping me back to reality. “You know how much I’ve gone through to – ”

I hold up a hand. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I
know
this place. I… this used to look different, didn’t it?”

I look away from the tree long enough to see anger melt from Mom’s face, hope instantly returning as she nods.

“There was never a robot factory here if that’s what you mean,” she says.

“That tree,” I say, not needing to point. “That’s the tree where I’ll find my Heaven Box, isn’t it?”

She still nods over and over. “Yes,” she says, her voice cracking. “I mean, that’s the area where the coordinates indicate.”

I’m certainly no map-reader but I can’t imagine my list of coordinates were so accurate that Mom could pinpoint a single location beneath a tree. I don’t want to seem overly suspicious but I still wonder how she knows exactly where to find my box. Was there something else in my CIFPOL folder that gave the Heaven Box’s specific location? I resist the urge to ask, hoping that if she brought me this far, she doesn’t want me to blow it now.

“Do you remember anything significant about the tree or this area?” she asks. “Why your box might be buried here?”

I shake my head. “I could really care less about that now. I just want to get in there and get the box.”

“How do you expect to do that?” Mom snaps, suddenly angry.

I was wondering the same thing. For several minutes, I watch the land surrounding the compound. Several damaged robots limp toward the compound wall, stopping in front of the only gate I can see. It’s about the size of doorway and has a light atop that flashes either green or red as the robots take turns heading in.

“I guess we try blending in and walk through the front door,” I say, the plan sounding ridiculous even as I say it. “It’s not like we have a wealth of other options.”

As the sun dips lower in the sky, we watch the compound and gates. Though Robotropolis is huge, there appears to be no security at the gates, no robot sentries guarding the wall. Plenty of activity swirls within the small city but none of the robots seem to pay attention to what’s going on outside their walls.

“They must figure no human would be foolish enough to try breaking
into
their compound,” Mom says.

The robots seem too focused on shepherding bedraggled humans from one building to another, most heading toward the main factory. At one point, a large group of people stops when one of their own collapses. The robots don’t like when their horde isn’t moving. The other humans try to help the one that fell but it’s no use.

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask. “Or is it a her? They all kind of look the same, don’t they?”

“They’re all wearing the same rags. Slaves, I’m sure,” Mom replies. “Hopefully, they have some sort of medical help in one of the other – ”

Before she finishes her sentence, one of the robots approaches the person and shoots him or her in the head. Mom chokes on her words. I expect the rest of the humans to revolt against their captors but nobody reacts. Instead, they lower their heads and slowly march forward, leaving the body behind.

Neither Mom nor I say another word, though I’m sure she watches the dead body as much as I do. We’re both relieved when an older model robot eventually shows up and drags the body away. Soon after, a squad of larger robots emerges from the main factory, walking in a square-shaped formation. In the center of their protective pattern is a lone man. Instead of being scrawny and clad in tatters, this person is dressed in elegant purple robes and has hair that’s long and flowing. It might be easy to assume it’s a woman but even from so far away, I see his strong jaw and sense his fearless masculinity. He shows no concern about the robots surrounding him. He’s a chilling reminder of another powerful man I once knew.

              As the man and his metallic guards stroll through Robotropolis, every robot and human within the compound comes to a complete stop. He eventually crosses the small bridge and heads inside the large house, the robots fanning out in protective formation around the mansion. The front door no sooner closes when the flurry of Robotropolis activity starts again.

             
“Who was
that
?” I whisper, more to myself than Mom.

             
“How am
I
supposed to know?” she snaps, though her temperament immediately softens. “But whatever’s going on down there, I really wish E told us more about Robotropolis.”

              With night approaching anyway, we decide to wait until dark to proceed toward the city. We’ve still seen no evidence of the gate being monitored – and the mysterious purple-clad man has not emerged from his mansion again – but it seems smarter to be safe than sorry. The moon is full tonight, giving us enough illumination to find our way down the ridge and toward Robot Road. We join the rest of the damaged robots heading for the front gate, though we’re ready to turn and run at the first sign of danger, at the first sign that any of the robots realize we’re not like them.

             
“Keep your head down,” Mom whispers to me. “And it might be a good idea to fake a limp or something else that’s not right with you. If you really want them to think you’re busted, just show them your face.”

             
I look up to see a grin on her face; once again she shows a sense of humor at the strangest time. If I’d made a joke, I have no doubt she would’ve shot me a glare that could wither a flower. I open my mouth to answer back but she shakes her head to shut me up. Her grin is short-lived. Her brow furrows and eyes widen in fear. I walked among robots plenty of times but this is exactly the type of situation Mom has avoided since leaving CIFPOL. It’s not lost on me the amount of risk she’s taking for my benefit.

             
As we limp forward, the compound wall looms larger with each step we take. I reach out and take her metallic hand, give it a gentle squeeze.

             
“It’ll be fine,” I whisper. “They sense heartbeats so they won’t think we’re different from them.”

             
Her eyes narrow at the sight of my hand in hers. I expect her to push it away but she forces a grin before gently letting go. Heavy footsteps stomp in front and behind us as we join the line of damaged robots limping toward the front gate. It’s hard to stop from looking behind us – from making sure we’re not about to be attacked – but I do as Mom does, I keep my head down and eyes up. I stumble along like the rest of the robots, like that’s exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.

When we reach the front gate, I realize there’s no turning back. Half a dozen robots are in line in front of us, robots of differing size and model and condition. None are as impressive as those from the large squadron that passed earlier. The robot directly in front of us is covered with dirt and grime and scorch marks. Its left foot has been blown apart and its right arm dangles by a single wire. I have no idea how it survived so long but it hobbles forward like the rest.

The robot at the front of the line appears to be in the best physical condition but by no means does it act normally. It’s about ten feet to the left of the gate entrance but it walks straight forward, bumping into the wall before taking two big steps back. The robot does this over and over, slowly inching closer to where it’s supposed to be. I watch for the next robot in line to take its turn but it doesn’t budge while waiting for the malfunctioning robot to makes its way through the gate. I don’t know how much time passes. I begin to count how many times the robot bumps into the wall but stop when I reach a hundred.

Mom is in line behind me. Her foot begins to tap quicker and quicker as we wait. I sense nerves getting the better of her. Without turning around, I reach my hand back to her. She doesn’t take it but the tapping stops.

The robot in front finally stumbles its way into the gate. Now that we’re so close, I finally see that this is no simple passage. As soon as the robot enters, bright blue lights shine around its body, slowly sweeping up and down. The lights suddenly shut off and a red light illuminates above the gate. A wall inside the gate opens and the robot stumbles inside the compound, heading to the left. The next robot in line steps in and the rest of us shuffle forward.

“What’s that gate doing?” Mom whispers.

Fear is evident in her voice, though she’s not afraid to risk talking while in line. Luckily, no other robot reacts to the sound of her voice, nor do they budge when I turn just enough to see her.

“I think the gate is reading the robots somehow, maybe assessing their damage?” I guess. “I think… yeah, there are definitely sensors within the gate.”

The light shines green for the next pair of robots, who turn right upon entering Robotropolis. The damaged robot in front of me goes next. It no sooner limps into the gate when the blue light sweeps over it a single time and the light above turns red. The robot turns left as it passes through.

“It must be assigning them where to go,” I say. “I wonder if they recycle broken robots. They can’t risk a shortage of materials.”

“Do we follow them?” Mom asks in a panic.

We don’t have much choice. The line of robots behind us has grown several dozen long during the time we’ve been waiting. Every robot steps forward, all but pushing me into the gate.

“This was a bad idea,” Mom says as she’s shuffled forward by those in line. It sounds like she’s on the verge of panic. “We should get out of here.”

“If you don’t feel comfortable then go, really, I totally understand,” I say, slowly taking the last few steps, trying to draw out this moment as long as I can without arousing suspicion. “You’ve done more for me than I ever could’ve imagined. But I have to do this; I’d walk through Hell to reach that box.”

“You may just have to do that,” Mom says.

She reaches forward and takes my hand. At first, I nearly pull away, wondering if she’ll try dragging me away, force me to find a more cautious route. But she only gives me a gentle squeeze. Though her metal hands touch my metal hands, I feel a warmth in my body and mind. I’ve always felt grateful for what she’s done – at some moments more than others – but this quick squeeze sends a swell of emotions through me.