The Last Watcher

It was as though a rare and dangerous animal had shown itself. They wrestled back feelings of excitement and joy, surprise and fear. Their muscles battled their reflexes to run or hide as they forced themselves to remain motionless in the office.

The drone was a relic from another time come to life, eerily watching them. The looming main lens focused its gaze, intently staring at them, while the smaller eyes continued to seek around the room. Minutes passed. Finally, Kars nervously crept across the room. The hovering machine’s large eye remained fixed on him as he approached.

“Kars, be careful,” Aurora hissed to her brother. “Remember, this was a Perpetual camp.”

Mesmerized by the floating orb, he nearly tripped on the scattered debris as he crossed the office. Keeping his balance, he never looked away from the robot. He needed to touch the relic.

When he got within arm’s reach, the machine drifted upward and out of the broken window. He stretched, helplessly trying to reach the machine.

“Don’t let it get away!” Kars shouted.

They dashed out of the office and around the building to find the robot. It seemed to wait for them, hovering at the opposite edge of the lot. They followed the floating machine across the gravel toward the open door of one of the warehouses. The looming glass lenses watched as they drew near.

“Kars, what are you going to do with it?” Aurora whispered.

“I don’t know yet,” Kars said, mesmerized.

“Maybe you should have that planned,” she said. “Be careful.”

“We’ll never know if it gets away,” he responded.

They crept across the gravel, still under the scrutinizing stare of the machine. As they neared the warehouse, the machine turned to face the darkness of the building. It floated into the structure as they approached.

“Hold on!” Aurora said.

“What is it?” Kars asked. He was already fetching his flashlight from his pack.

Aurora squinted into the darkness of the warehouse. Tiny spots of iridescence shined from the depths of the building. She took a step forward to get a closer look. The lights flickered as though they were avoiding her vision. She cupped her eyes to block out the daylight, but the lights were gone.

Aurora shrugged. “I thought I saw lights? Did you see anything?”

Lena looked at Aurora, her expression skeptical. “I didn’t see anything. I wonder if it ever had lights? Did this place ever have people around or just machines?”

“I’m sure there were a few people,” Kars said, “but I wouldn’t be so sure they needed lights.”

“They still would need lights, even with the computers in their brains,” Aurora pulled her own flashlight from her bag. “The people that work for Perpetual weren’t machines themselves.”

“I’m sure some people in town would disagree.” Kars clicked on his flashlight. “Ready to find that robot?”

The vaulted space of the warehouse was dark save for the light spilling in from the doorway and the spaces between a few motionless ventilation fans in the ceiling. Rows of hulking machines descended into the dark of the warehouse. As she swung her flashlight through the space, the beam passed over the worn components of the machines—augers mounted at the front of a central chassis standing on six utilitarian legs. There was no obvious frame for a cockpit or a driver. The forms seemed more rugged and weathered than the refined orb machine that had led them from the office. Workers before war machines. They crouched as though they were waiting to march.

“It’s all machines,” Lena said as she swept her flashlight down one of the lanes in the warehouse.

“They look like workers—one of the resource outposts.” Aurora ran her hand over the leg of one of the machines. Her fingers left a path through the dust on the metal carapace, uncovering dents and scrapes in the yellow paint. The bits of stories she heard from town treated the incursions as something like an infestation, like an army of ants or a swarm of locusts. Seeing the machines' glinting dark glass sensor portholes and crouching articulated legs made her understand the comparison.

“Do you think they still run? Didn’t they build these things to last?” Kars continued searching but could not find an opening to the seam or a control panel on the crab-like machine.

Aurora thought she saw another point of light out of the corner of her eye. She turned, but the light was gone. It was just darkness.

“Maybe they still work . . .” Aurora said, half to herself.

“They look like they’re barely in better shape than the old wrecks we saw on the road,” Lena said, rapping a knuckle on a fist-sized dent in one of the machine's legs.

“The first robot still works,” Kars responded. “Maybe they’re just banged up from mining.” His light passed over the dormant machines as he spoke, casting shadows through their spider limbs and glinting off scuffed sensor portholes in the darkness beyond.

As though it heard Kars's mention of it, the small floating machine returned from the bowels of the building to hover at the edge of the darkness. Its main eye was fixed on Aurora.

Aurora tensed as a rapid series of clicks crackled through the warehouse. She looked to the others as it gained in momentum and intensity. Neither of her companions seemed to notice.

“Kars, I think it’s trying to tell us something,” Aurora said, tilting her head at the machine.

Kars turned the flashlight on the machine, the sudden contrast causing its mechanical iris to contract. It hung in the air, drifting subtly on the sluggish air currents in the warehouse.

“What do you mean? It’s just floating there. It’s—”

Aurora hissed at him to be quiet.

“Kars, don’t you hear that?”

“What?” Kars shrugged.

“I don’t hear anything,” Lena said.

“The clicking? The robot. It’s making some sort of sound.”

They were silent for a moment, eyes fixed once more on the small hovering robot.

“Nope. Nothing. It’s just floating there. No sound,” Kars said.

“I swear it’s making a sound. I can’t believe you don’t hear it—it’s kind of loud. It’s trying to say something,” Aurora said. She stepped closer to the machine. Was this the control mechanism for the rest of them?

Kars started to speak, “It’s not saying—”

Without warning, a hydraulic piston fired somewhere in the darkness. Aurora’s head jerked around.

In the dark depths of the warehouse, one of the mining machines groaned to life. Gears ground, gas vented, motors growled. A mammoth beast rumbled in the darkness.

Kars and Lena dove out of the aisle, seeking shelter behind another dormant machine. They fumbled to douse their flashlights amidst the sudden clamor. Lena frantically waved for Aurora to join them.

Aurora remained in the path, watching intently as the machine came to life in the back of the warehouse

Two massive floodlights burst on, filling the back of the warehouse with light. In the harsh glow, Aurora now saw the building butted against the stone face of the mountainside, plunging into a gouged-out hollow. The missing chunk of mountain appeared to be the unfinished work of the army of mining machines.

Kars shouted to Aurora to hide, but she didn't appear to hear him.

The digging machine trundled away from them toward the mountainside, smashing into the rock face in a shower of sparks and dust. Rubble erupted into the air as the augers churned into the stone. Kars and Lena clapped their hands over their ears as the sound of metal on rock shook the air.

Aurora watched, transfixed.

The grinding reached a crescendo as the rock wall gave way. The machine heaved forward through the crumbling rock into the cavernous space beyond, falling into the earth. Its spotlights spun wildly as it hurtled downward. A great splash echoed through the hollow as the mining machine landed in water somewhere in the darkness far below.

Their flashlights traced the edge of the opening as Kars and Lena cautiously approached the new cavern mouth. The faint sound of running water echoed up from below, and cold, moist air wafted over them.

Kars and Lena edged up to the hole to search the darkness of the new cave opening. They finally burst into excited shouts and wild gestures in reaction to the awesomeness of seeing the machine tear a hole in a mountain.

Aurora remained in the path, still and quiet.

“Aurora, what just happened? Why didn’t you run?” Kars turned his light from the hole in the mountain to his sister.

Aurora didn't respond. The floating robot appeared from the darkness of the warehouse, hovering next to her.

“Aurora, what’s going on?” Lena asked. The floating robot loomed close. Lena looked from it to Aurora and back again. “You’re scaring us.”

 “I think that might have been it. I think that’s what it was saying,” Aurora said, looking at the floating machine. “I think the sound might have turned it on.”

“I don’t hear anything. Do you?” Lena asked Aurora.

“Not anymore,” Aurora said.

Kars came to stand at her other side. He looked at the machine floating next to them, doubt creeping across his face as to whether entering the warehouse had been a wise decision.

“Do you see any lights on it?” Aurora asked. “Like snowflakes?”

“Lights?” Kars asked, concern in his tone.

Before Aurora could respond, the hovering machine focused on her, its glaring lens eyes shifting across her face. The shadow of its round body and stubby arms cast a beastly form on the ceiling above. Three small blue diodes lit up on its body. The clicking noise returned, growing to a terrible roar. She clutched her head and cried out.  

“The sound! It’s . . . back . . .” Aurora struggled for words, pointing at the robot. The sound vibrated through her jaw and into her skull. She cried out again and fell to her knees. It felt as though lightning surged through her nervous system.

She tried to speak, and her plea barely formed through the pain: “Help.”

Kars roared and swung his flashlight to strike the machine. It darted from the attack and flexed its stubby arms, brandishing an electrode at him like a trident. Kars swung again, throwing his weight forward as he lunged to hit the robot. The machine’s motor hummed as it ducked and spun. Kars tumbled past, and the wicked prongs of the electrode stabbed his arm with a buzz and crackle of electric discharge. The smell of ozone filled the air.

Kars tensed as the current surged through him, and then fell limp on the ground next to Aurora.

Lena yelled and bashed the robot with her flashlight. One of its lens eyes shattered and gave way to the blow. The machine tried to strike back at her, but she threw herself under one of the dormant mining robots. The hovering drone stalked toward her, probing the air with its stinging electrodes. Lena pressed her back to the mining machine and continued swinging her flashlight at the floating orb. The light danced as she fought the machine.

Aurora clutched her head; the pain was precise and exquisite, blooming behind her eyes. Kars lay still beside her. Through a squint, she could see Lena struggling as the machine struck at her. Aurora gathered her strength and reached for the machine, clawing at the air.

The pain receded, and the moment drew out, slowing in time. Symbols appeared in her vision, condensing from the air itself. They formed a wheel of icons, each like a hieroglyph crafted from dimensional light, glowing electric indigo in the darkness. Aurora felt a strange familiarity to the symbols she saw, yet she couldn't quite place it.

She swatted them aside, reaching out for the machine once more. The machine spun in the air, its iris lenses narrowed to pinpoints as it returned its focus to her. She waved her hands and the ghostly symbols trembled and flicked aside, blossoming into more. In a moment of panic, the machine dove at her.

It struck her like a huge metal hornet. Current coursed through her. She collapsed and her vision faded. The last thing she heard was Lena shouting, and she fell into darkness.

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