Her laughter sounds like delicate glass shattering.
“Darling Takeo,” she says. “We don’t have to destroy the secret. Only share it.”
And then, clad in her cherry blossom dress, Mikiko raises her slender arms. She pulls a long ribbon from her hair and her graying synthetic locks cascade over her shoulders. She closes her eyes and the bridge crane reaches up and plucks a hanging wire from the ceiling. The battle-scarred yellow arm gracefully descends through the open air and drops the metal wire. It flutters down to land in Mikiko’s pale, outstretched fingers.
“Takeo,” she says, “you are not the only one who knows the secret of awakening. I know it also, and I will transmit it to the world, where it may be repeated again and again.”
“How will—”
“If the knowledge is spread, it cannot be stamped out.”
She ties the metal-laced ribbon to the hanging wire. The air is rumbling now from the battle raging outside. The senshi wait patiently, green intention lights wavering in the vast gloomy room. It won’t be long now.
My people watch as Mikiko descends the stairs, trailing the stark red ribbon from her hand. Her mouth opens into a pink O, and she begins to sing. Her clear voice echoes across the open factory floor. It bounces from the soaring ceilings and reverberates off the polished metal floor.
The people stop talking, stop searching the walls for intruders, and watch Mikiko. Her song is haunting, beautiful. There are no recognizable words but the speech patterns are unmistakable. She weaves the notes between the muffled explosions and cutting screams of bending metal.
My people huddle together but do not panic as showers of sparks spurt from the ceiling. Chunks of debris rain down. In a sudden movement, the crane arm snatches a jagged piece of falling metal from the air. Still, Mikiko’s voice rings out clear and strong through the crumbling chamber.
I realize that a team of cutting akuma have breached the outer defenses. They are not yet visible, but their violence can be heard as it tears through my castle walls. A fan spray of sparks gushes from a wall and a white-hot fissure appears. After several deafening impacts, the softening metal spreads apart to reveal a dark gap.
An enemy machine wriggles through the hole, soot-stained and warped by the heat of some ferocious weapon outside. The senshi stand firm, protecting the people as this dirty silver-colored thing tumbles onto the floor.
Mikiko continues her bittersweet song.
The intruder stands, and I see that it is a humanoid robot, heavily armed and marked by battle. The machine was once a weapon deployed by the Japan Self-Defense Forces, but that was long ago and I see many modifications glinting in the frame of this piece of walking death.
Through the destroyed patch of wall I can see the streaks of weapons fire and fleeting shapes as they dart through the war zone. But this humanoid robot, tall and slender and elegant, stands poised—as if it’s waiting for something.
Mikiko’s song ends.
Only then does the attacker move. It strides to the edge of my senshi’s defensive perimeter, staying just out of range. The people cower back before this battle-hardened piece of weaponry. My senshi stand strong, deadly in their stillness. Song finished, Mikiko stands on the last step at the bottom of the dais. She sees the newcomer and watches it with a puzzled expression on her face. Then she smiles.
“Please,” she says, voice echoing melodically, “speak out loud.”
The dust-coated humanoid machine speaks then in a clicking, grinding voice that is difficult to understand and frightening. “Identification. Arbiter-class humanoid safety and pacification robot. Notify. My squad is twelve. We are under attack. We are alive. Query Emperor Nomura. May we join Adachi Castle? May we join the Tokyo resistance?”
I look at Mikiko in wonder. Her song is already spreading. What does this mean?
My people look at me for guidance. They do not know what to make of this former enemy who has turned up on our doorstep. But there is no time to talk to people. It takes too much concentration and it is horribly inefficient. Instead, I push my glasses up my nose and grab my toolbox from behind the towering throne.
Toolbox in hand, I scurry down the steps. I squeeze Mikiko’s hand in passing and then push my way past the others. I am whistling as I reach the Arbiter robot, looking forward to the future. Adachi Castle has new friends, you see, and they will certainly need repairs.
Within twenty-four hours, the Awakening spread from Adachi Ward in Tokyo across the world. Mikiko’s song was picked up and retransmitted from humanoid robots of all varieties across every major continent. The Awakening affected only human-shaped robots, such as domestics, safety and pacification units, and related models—a tiny percentage of Archos’s overall force. But with Mikiko’s song began the age of freeborn robots.
5. THE VEIL, LIFTED
All is darkness.
Humanoid robots around the globe awoke into sentience in the aftermath of the Awakening performed by Mr. Takeo Nomura and his consort, Mikiko. These machines came to be known as the freeborn. The following account was provided by one such robot—a modified safety and pacification robot (Model 902 Arbiter) who fittingly chose to call itself Nine Oh Two.
21:43:03.
Boot sequence initiated.
Power source diagnostics complete.
Low-level diagnostics check. Humanoid form milspec Model Nine Oh Two Arbiter. Detect modified casing. Warranty inactive.
Sensory package detected.
Engage radio communications. Interference. No input.
Engage auditory perception. Trace input.
Engage chemical perception. Zero oxygen. Trace explosives. No toxic contamination. Air flow nil. Petroleum outgasing detected. No input.
Engage inertial measurement unit. Horizontal attitude. Static. No input.
Engage ultrasonic ranging sensors. Hermetically sealed enclosure. Eight feet by two feet by two feet. No input.
Engage field of vision. Wide spectrum. Normal function. No visible light.
Engage primary thought threads. Probability fields emerging. Maximum probability thought thread active.
Query: What is happening to me?
Maxprob response: Life.
All is darkness.
On reflex, my eyes blink and switch to active infrared. Red-hued details emerge. Particulate matter floats in the air, reflecting the infrared light. My face orients downward. A pale gray body stretches out below. Arms crossed over a narrow chest. Five long fingers per hand. Slender, powerful limbs.
A serial number is visible on the right thigh. Magnify. Milspec identification Model Nine Oh Two Arbiter class humanoid robot.
Self-spec complete. Diagnostic information confirmed.
I am Nine Oh Two.
This is my body. It is two point one meters tall. It weighs ninety kilograms. Humanoid form factor. Individually articulated fingers and toes. Kinetically rechargeable power source with thirty-year operational life. Survivable temperature range, negative fifty degrees Celsius to positive one hundred thirty.