Children of the Revolution

The beeping sound was reassuringly consistent as the robot moved the ultrasound probe back and forth across the pregnant woman's belly. On its chest-mounted display screen, the humans could see the pulse rate of both mother and baby, as well as a live-streaming sonogram. The engineer looked at the data. Nothing abnormal. Mother's pulse rate normal, fetal pulse rate one twenty. Not too low, but she'd be keeping an eye on.

“Everything looks good, sir,” Terry said to the bald man wearing a military uniform emblazoned with medals, standing on the other side of the bed. A cloth eyepatch covered the General's left eye. His right eye narrowed and scowled at her and said nothing.

She turned her attention back to the young pregnant woman on the bed. For the last eight and months, Maria had barely said two words to Terry or the medibots on their weekly check-ups. She looked out at the world from two large brown eyes and she kept her lips tight shut, never complaining, answering the robots' questions with one-word answers. She sat there, silently brooding as one of the robots went to work between her legs while the other wiped the ultrasound gel off her belly.

“How much longer will all this take?” said the General. His good eye flicked to the door.

“We'll be out of here in five minutes,” said Terry.

“Come see me before you go,” he said, turned walked briskly over to an intricately carved wooden door which led to his office and disappeared through it, shutting it with a snap.

“Can we get you anything before we go?” said one of the robots to Maria. She just stared ahead of her, saying nothing. The robot whirred over to the side table.

“I've put some painkillers here and some tea to help you relax,” it said, patting and smoothing the bedclothes with its carbon gripper. Maria looked away and the robots reversed over to the elevator door on the far side of the room.

“Wait for me outside,” said Terry and she went and knocked on the beautiful wooden door.

#

The General's office was spacious and austere. A streamlined desk and hoverchair were the only furniture. The far wall was a full-length window with a sliding door opening out onto a balcony. There the General stood, framed by the yellow sky, with his back to the engineer.

On her way across the room, Terry glanced at his desk. Moving images of wanted terrorists covered the smart screen surface. Some of the faces, Terry saw, had red Xs drawn over them. There were men and women, young and old. She could tell by their weather-worn skin they were all Civvies and they seemed to look at her accusingly from their digital frames. The face at the top of the pile was that of a handsome young man with black hair, a black beard and black twinkling eyes. The corners of his mouth showed just a hint of a smile.

She heard the General clear his throat and saw that he was waiting for her. Deep frown lines creased between his eye and the eyepatch and he stood tapping his polished boot, arms folded. As she stepped outside, the temperature increased by about fifty degrees and the humidity shot up to a hundred. Prickles of sweat immediately sprung up between her shoulder blades.

The jungle-clad skyscrapers of the city looked like a living jungle canopy below them. From their vantage point atop Skyscraper 1, the green pillars of the other eleven towers were dwarfed beneath the dome of dirty yellow sky above them. Terry could see a slight shimmer where the artificial biosphere separated the city from outside, the biological wall keeping the Cities safe from the Civvies, high up inside their walled garden.

Down below, she could see helibots flying between the skyscrapers. You could hear their engines whirring and see their flashing lights illuminate the green fronds of the jungle. Brightly-coloured birds flew alongside the bots, squawking to one another. It was almost beautiful up here. You could almost imagine that the world wasn't in chaos. The General remained silent. Terry was about to say something when he growled.

“We're winning this war,” he said, gripping the guardrail without looking at her. She wasn't sure if he was speaking to himself or to her. “We're winning, dammit. We have control over ninety percent of the population. Within nine months, we will have conditioned everyone. The entire project will have taken less than a decade.”

“Yes, sir,” said Terry. She wondered where he was going with this.

“Do you know how we've made such good progress?” he asked. Without even waiting for a reply, he answered his own question. “It's by plugging any gaps in the system as soon as they appear. Every revolution has permutations, outliers and mutations. In that way, you can think of our work like evolution itself. Evolution succeeds by adapting to the world in real-time.”

The General turned to look at her. His steely blue eye gazed down at her. Even though they were the same height, Terry felt as if the man towered above her.

“So,” he said, his face almost purple with rage, “when I hear about individual units not doing their jobs, it means I am forced to react, to adapt, to evolve. Now, what do you think evolution does with genes that don't do their job? It eliminates them from the field.”

Even though the air outside was oppressively hot, Terry suddenly felt cold, as if an icy finger drew down her neck. Her mouth was dry. He knew. She was frozen with fear. She tried not to look away from that cruel blue eye.

“There were thirty-two illegal births last month in the Civvy population, according to my sources. This represents a serious leak in your department.”

Terry had heard the stories about the General's infamous anger. She'd heard about the spies he'd uncovered and executed with his bare hands. Suddenly, she realised how very alone the two of them were. On top of the tallest tower left in the city, no one could possibly see them. She took an involuntary step back. But the General grabbed the railing again. His knuckles were white.

“I want you to find the leak and bring them to me. You have one week.”

She tried not to choke on the words and she managed a “Sir, yes, sir.”

#

The next day at daybreak, Terry left the city by the south gate along with two medibots who hovered a few inches above the ground. Together, they travelled along the hardpack dirt road that led through the Civvy slums to the old hospital, St. Xavier's, up on a rise about a half-mile away.

Terry's mask filtered, cooled, and purified the air, but she could still taste and smell it. The shantytown stank of garbage and animal sweat. Terry wrinkled her nose behind her mask and winced. The weekly visits to the hospital were a walking nightmare and she went quickly, hoping the day wouldn't prove too brutal.

The patchwork hovels had been pieced together with pallets, sheet metal and plastic tarps. Everything was bleached and worn out from the brutal sun, and the world seemed almost black-and-white compared to the lush colours of the jungle city. She could barely imagine what it would be like to have to live out here your whole life.

Up ahead, on the corner, Terry saw two Civvies squatting in the darkness of a doorway. As she approached, the lights from the bots reflected in their eyes. There were two pairs of flashing red lights in the darkness, then they disappeared as the shadows recoiled from the bots and uniformed City Engineer. She wanted to say something, to reach out to them with some sort of reassurance. But the robots would pick up any audio, so instead, she stared forward at the familiar route.

Soon enough, she was climbing the crumbling concrete stairs of the hospital's south stairwell. Bullet holes dotted the walls and the steps were completely chewed up. Every now and then, she had to jump a missing step. The robots floated up ahead of her and they made their way to the third floor – the maternity ward.

It had been almost ten years since the laws came in, making it illegal for any Civvy to bear children. That year, mass sterilizations had begun. Now, any Civvy found giving birth was cleansed from the system and any information leading to the discovery of a pregnant Civvy was rewarded generously by the State.

The two doctors at St. Xavier's were good at their jobs, so good in fact, that they were now the last two doctors left in the slum. Any Civvy in need of medical attention had to suffer their inspection. The doctors, evil twins, were equal in their inward malevolence yet opposite in their outward appearances. Together, the brother and sister rooted around the Civvy population, searching out valuable pregnancies like two swine searching for truffles.

When Terry stepped onto the ward, she saw them bending over an occupied bed in the corner, wearing their dirty, bloodstained, once-white coats. She was very tall, he very short. They turned as one as Terry and the robots approached. The short one smiled ingratiatingly. His little eyes were wet behind a pair of handmade glasses.

“Friends,” he said obsequiously. “It is so good to see you.”

Terry didn't say anything. She felt her lips curling behind her mask, glad that it hid most of her face.

“Report,” said one of the robots.

“A very fine specimen,” said the taller twin, stepping forward, licking her lips. “Sixteen-year-old. Camp 17. First fertilization. Four months and three days. Dilate and evac, I believe.”

“Thirty-five credits,” said the short one. The sunlight reflected off his glasses, making it look like he had no eyes.

The engineer turned away and looked instead at the beautiful young Civvy lying on the dirty hospital bed. She was draped in a ragged sheet, but her clean, shiny belly protruded from the dirty folds. Terry saw fear and hatred in the girl's dark eyes.

She felt sick. There was nothing she could do to when a mother was this far along. If she'd got to her sooner, she could have switched out her mifepristone for sugar pills. There were no sugar pills to replace an evac.

The girl moaned a little as the robots set to work. The chemical restraints kept her mostly immobile but Terry could sense her distress. The engineer took hold of the girl's left hand. Her fingers were cold and Terry wrapped the delicate hand in both of her own. A terrible sound started up from one of the robot's tubes and the engineer tightened her grip.

Suddenly there was a crash behind them and they all turned to see. The two doctors were yelling, flapping their sleeves. Terry saw a group of Civvies burst onto the ward. The leader of the group shoved the short doctor away. His spectacles went spinning across the floor. The robots stopped performing and wheeled round. The lead Civvy was nearly on them.

“Halt,” said one robot, rotating through its appendages, looking for its AI wand.

“Get away from her!” yelled the Civvy. Terry could see his wide eyes, his bared teeth. He held a long metal pipe and was preparing to strike.

“Wait!” cried a loud booming voice. Terry saw another Civvy leap forward. She saw long black hair, a black beard, and grabbed the pole in the other man's hands. He twisted and threw it away in a long arc across the ward. It bounced with a clang on the concrete floor and rolled to a stop in the silence.

Terry and the robots faced the gang of intruders. They were dressed in the Civvy uniform of grey rags, and they were all panting heavily, warily eyeing the bots. The two robots stood, tall like sentinels now, covering the men with an assortment of weaponry. Terry stood behind the tall robots, still holding the girl's cold hand. As she looked, the anguished man leaped at the robots, trying to get through to the girl.

“Leave them,” yelled the black-haired man, grabbing the bereft father and pulling him back. Terry froze as she saw him clearly now. She recognized him from the portrait on the General's desk. It was Solomon, the leader of the Civvy revolution.

“Civilian, you are under arrest,” said the robot, addressing the struggling man who was trying in vain to free himself from Solomon's grip.

“You are all under arrest,” said the second robot.

“We're leaving,” said Solomon, smiling. “Don't get your wires twisted. Why don't you drones get back to work.”

“Halt! Get down on the ground. Show us your hands,” said the robot but Solomon had turned and was pulling the weeping man away. The rest of the group turned to follow.

“Civilian, freeze!”

There was a zap and a smoking scorch mark appeared in the floor to Solomon's left. Smoke rose from the small crater and he stopped. When he turned, both his hands were in view and he was smiling.

“You know, it wasn't supposed to go down like this,” he said and looked through the robots at Terry.

There was a terrific noise like a rocket blasting off and the ward's crumbling ceiling fell in. Dust and smoke blinded Terry and choked her and the noise and confusion concussed her. She found herself lying on the floor in a pile of rubble nowhere near the hospital bed. The short male doctor was lying not far away with his head turned away and a slab of concrete lying over his bottom half. Terry tried to raise herself but it felt like her arms were made of lead.

Shadows appeared out of the dust and she was turned over. There were people in masks leaning over her. She tried to push them away. One was leaning down. She felt a jab in her arm and she looked down to see a hypodermic needle being pulled out of her shoulder. She couldn't speak. Her jaw was slack. A warm cushion of darkness rose to meet her and she lifted up into the black.

#

When Terry came to, she was sitting on a chair in a low empty tunnel. The arched stone ceiling ran away from her and disappeared into the gloom. A dry, hot wind blew down the tunnel and Terry could smell sulphur like rotten eggs. She realised her mask was gone.

She was sitting uncomfortably on a hardback chair. Her hands and wrists were tied behind her. She winced, circling her jaw. It felt like she'd been hit by a train. She tried to remember what had happened. Amidst the noise and confusion, she remembered the father's anguished yells, the dying mother's cold hand, and the ironic smile on Solomon's lips.

She heard footsteps behind her and Solomon strode into view, wearing a dirty sheet like a toga. The leader of the revolution turned to her, wearing his most generous smile.

“Well, hello there,” he said, clapping his hands and stepping closer. “You've rejoined the land of the living. Only a few bumps and scrapes. Nothing permanent, at least. How are you feeling?”

Terry said nothing. Three men came and stood beside him. They all held guns across their chests, not the AI wands the robots used, but old-style, mechanical assault rifles. Terry looked at them.

“They're not for you,” said Solomon, noticing her gaze. “No, you're the last person we want to kill, Theresa.”

He laughed at her expression then reached into the fold of his robe and pulled out a cigar, which he lit using an old mechanical lighter. He seemed to take inordinate pleasure in the process, sucking and puffing out his cheeks so the flame danced high on the tip of the cigar. Terry could smell the pungent sweet-smelling smoke. The flame danced in his eyes as he looked at her down the length of the cigar.

“That's right,” he said, grinning and breathing out a mouthful of smoke. “We know who you are. We know what you've been doing. We've been monitoring your actions for the last ten years. We know everything there is to know, all the sugar pill replacements, all the doctored paperwork, all the files that happen to go missing. You might have evaded Cyclops, but you cannot hide from me. I see the whole world.”

Solomon was pacing in front of her, but he stopped and came over and stood just behind her. She flinched as she felt him touch her wrist but then relaxed as he pulled off the manacles and her arms were free. She rubbed her wrists in her lap and he continued to speak in between puffs on the cigar.

“You see, we want the same thing, you and I. Nothing different. You may think we have nothing in common, but in fact, we both want the humans to survive. Cyclops, on the other hand, has made a deal with the devil. His pact with the robots only takes us one route. Can't you see it's only a matter of time until all us humans are dead! Either by starvation, sterilization, or all-out warfare, our time has come to an end.”

He stood in front of her now, gripping the arms of the chair, leaning within a few inches of her face. Terry stared directly into his black eyes. She could see fire burning deep within them. Terry didn't look away. He laughed and shook his head then went back to pacing, waving his cigar around as he spoke.

“When I was a kid during the first coup, my mother hid me every day from the patrols. She hid me in a hole in the floor under the table and I'd stay in there for days until it was safe to come out. I hated that hole. It was pitch black and roasting hot and the air smelled terrible and I'd cry and cry but she'd tell me to hush.

“One day, a little girl arrived at our neighbour's house after her parents were executed and they put her in my hole with me and from then on we both had to hide together. But from then on, it was easy. We told each other stories and made the pain go away.

“We grew up and our stories turned to love and we survived our childhood where so many others were killed. The sacrifice of others saved both of our lives. For a time, the future, as poor as it may seem to you, seemed wonderfully bright hopeful.

“Then tragedy struck and the General descended and plucked my beloved out of my arms and killed my whole family and burned my home to the ground. I was in the mines and when I came home that night, I heard my neighbours crying my name and I saw the attack drones flying back to the city.

“The General, Cyclops, took my beloved from me and from that moment I vowed to take my revenge. But not for myself. I have transcended the self. No, it is for my people the I fight. Our people. The people. The time has come for the people to rise up and take back control, Theresa. The revolution is happening. The revolution is here.”

Terry looked at him. The cigar stopped waving. He pointed it at her chest.

“We need you, Terry. We need you. We need you to do one thing to save the human race from utter annihilation. When the time comes, you need to save the mother and child.”

Behind her, Terry heard something in the tunnel, a far off sound of an engine. Solomon looked past her and straightened.

“Now go,” he said. “Back to the city, back the General and perform your duty. The future of humanity is in your hands.”

He walked past her. She stood up and started to follow him. Lights glinted far off down the tunnel. One of the guards came up behind her and touched her on the shoulder. When she looked at him, he motioned with the barrel of his machine gun towards the platform. It was time for her to go.

The rumbling sound of the engine grew louder and louder as she climbed onto the platform and began walking towards the exit. She looked back as a train appeared from out of the tunnel. An old steam train chugged in, filling the platform with steam. Solomon had climbed onto the engine and she could see him, surrounded by clouds of steam. The brakes squealed and the train slowed to a halt.

Terry saw dozens of people disembarking from the carriages, hundreds of people clad in black uniforms with black balaclavas, black gloves and boots. Many of them carried mechanical firearms. They began lining up along the platform.

The rebel poked the barrel of his gun into her lower back. She started climbing the stairs back to the surface. She glanced back one last time. Solomon was striding up the column of guerrillas. She could see the cigar tip glowing as he waved it through the air and she heard his words, “Take back control!”

#

The next morning before dawn, feeling battered and bruised, Terry stood beside the hospital bed in the General's private apartment. Two medibots, identical to the ones she'd seen assassinated the day before, were starting to perform their duty. Terry looked down at the girl – Maria. She was perspiring and breathing hard. There were worry lines around her eyes. Terry wanted to say something, but the robots were standing right there; one was taking her pulse, the other was setting out instruments.

Instead, Terry said, “How are you feeling?”

Maria ignored her.

Terry wanted to say to her, “You know, just because it feels like you're alone in this world, doesn't mean that you are. When I was growing up in the Hive, I spent all my days alone, plugged into the AI by myself.

“It was easy to feel like I was completely alone, not hearing any other human voice, not feeling anyone's touch. But it always helped me to imagine there was someone else out there, thinking about me. I know how you feel, Maria. You and I aren't so different.”

Instead of saying these words, Terry just squeezed the girl's hand. There were tears in the young girl's eyes. The robots moved between her legs.

The door flew open and the General stormed in, purple-faced. The medals on his chest danced on his chest as he stamped over, his boot heels resounding on the hardwood floor. His one good eye drilled into Terry.

“You!” he cried and his hands shot up as if to strangle her right there and then. She turned to the side, her head and her chin down, one arm raised in defence. But the General stopped and lowered his hands, bringing his violence under control. Terry could see a vein popping out of his purple forehead.

“As soon as my baby is born, I'm going to kill you,” he snarled then grabbed at the bed as the floor shifted under their feet. There was the sound of explosions and the air and the floor trembled around them.

“Hear that, traitor? Your comrades are attacking the city.”

“I- I- I,” Terry stammered. Maria wailed behind her. “Sir,” Terry motioned to the bed, “your wife.”

“Robots,” he said, looking past Terry. His one eye widened “I don't need you.”

He unholstered his AI wand and levelled it at her head. A massive shockwave passed under their feet followed by a series of terrific explosions. All the lights went out. Terry could see the General's features starkly in the low yellow light. She saw him grimace and pull the trigger.

Nothing happened. The tip of the wand was no longer pulsing. They both looked at the robots. They were down too, powered down and resting on the floor. For a second the two humans looked at each other then the whole side of the building fell away with an ear-splitting roar.

#

The hot wind whipped the breath from Terry's lungs. She gasped. There was a rushing sound and she was looking out over the burning city. Columns of smoke rose from all the skyscrapers. Fresh explosions lit up the jungle-clad walls. Colourful birds flew about, squawking in panic.

Suddenly, like huge spiders, a dozen people climbed into the room, clad in black, holding guns. Terry looked quickly at the robots, but they remained unlit and grounded.

The General stood still for a second beside her then rushed towards the foremost guerilla. He threw his useless wand in their face, yelling, 'Come on, you bastard! I'll take you with my bare hands!”

He went forward but the guerilla ducked under his lunge, came up beside him and threw him over his hip to the ground. He yanked hard on the General's wrist, twisting the old man over onto his belly. The General shrieked as his arm wrenched around in the socket.

“This is for my mother,” said the guerilla and dropped his knee onto the General's elbow. Terry heard the snapping sound where she stood. The General roared like a wounded lion. The girl on the bed screamed and Terry tore her gaze away from the carnage and went to her.

The guerilla appeared beside her. He tore off his mask – it was Solomon. He helped Terry push the two dead robots out of the way and she looked between the mother's legs and saw the baby was very much crowning.

She thought back to those days as a girl when she'd been plugged into the machine, learning all about everything, day in, day out. She tried to remember the lessons on childbirth but couldn't withdraw any information. Delivering humans had been the robots' job long before Terry had even been born.

Instinctively, Terry stepped in front of Solomon, reached forward and applied gentle pressure on the top of the baby's head. The woman in the bed howled and writhed. Her hair was slick down her face.

Terry felt another hard push as Maria let out a scream and the baby's whole head was out, covered in slime, then one shoulder then the other. After that, the rest of the body came smoothly and a warm, wet baby boy was there in her hands and it felt like the whole world stopped spinning around her.

#

But the world didn't stop and in an instant, Terry was back and the wind was howling around her. Solomon helped her clamp the umbilical cord and they wrapped the baby in his jacket. She was just about to hand him the infant when she heard commotion and yelling and a few gunshots behind her.

Turning, she saw the General, staggering, grasping a machine gun. Two of the guards lay dead on the floor. Solomon sprang to his left just as the general, holding the gun in his one useful arm, sprayed wildly.

The guerillas yelled. Guns thundered all round. Terry crouched, pulling the infant into her body, protecting him with her back. There were a few more shots then the firing stopped. She heard someone moaning and peered out.

Bodies lay everywhere. She saw Solomon writhing in agony. She saw the General, lying there with his eyepatch blown off. There was a dry, fleshy hole where his left eye should have been. His other eye was closed. Terry tore her gaze away from the monstrous face and saw there, in bed, Maria lay dead.

“No!” she heard Solomon's cry and he hobbled over to the bed, he'd been shot in the leg, and threw herself across her. “Maria!” His shoulders heaved as he howled into the dead woman's hair.

“You fool,” said the General. He was pushing himself up from the floor. Blood ran down his chin and neck, staining the green collar of his uniform. He laughed and spat out a mouthful of blood. “Fool. You cannot resist the inevitable. You and me, all of us, are on the losing side of history.”

“Why won't you die!” cried the rebel and lunged off the bed towards the General. There was a bang and the rebel fell back, his arms outstretched, across his beloved in bed.

“Now give me my child,” said the general, pointing the gun at Terry. She didn't move.

“I said, give me my-”

As the General stepped towards her, another shot rang out. He recoiled, grabbing at the medals over his heart. With his one eye wide and his mouth in an O, he reared back then fell forward on his face in the dust.

Terry turned and saw Maria, leaning up on one elbow in bed. A smoking gun slipped from her grip and it fell to the floor. She slumped forward across Solomon's body and Terry heard a long painful sigh.

Terry stood there, alone in the rubble. Not entirely alone. The baby boy moved against her, whimpering a little. She pulled him close and cooed to him gently. The sun rose over the edge of the earth as a new dawn spread over the city.