Axel spoke in his best classroom voice.
‘Penrose is made of many elements, but the five most abundant are oxygen, silicon, iron, aluminium and calcium.’
‘Well done,’ said Karel, impressed. ‘Hold on there.’
They paused at an iron bridge that spanned the gap between two buildings, waiting for two robots that were walking against the flow of the pedestrians to cross.
Axel and Karel looked down into the street below, saw robots riveting the last few slats into place on a metal fence. A fire glowed red beneath the rivet bucket. The robots were hurrying to finish their job, eager to be off.
‘So tell me,’ continued Karel. ‘What are those elements used for?’
Axel chanted as he watched the scene in the street below.
‘Oxygen is useless to us and always will be,
Silicon hides its mind,
Iron is the living element, it marks our birth,
Aluminium hides its face, it is the mythical element, and calcium completes the circle, useless like oxygen.’
‘That’s very good,’ said Karel. ‘But we use oxygen, you know. We use it to extract iron from ore.’
‘I know that,’ said Axel. ‘But it’s an old verse. Aluminium is just a story too, like Oneill. I know that.’
‘Well done. So, where do we find these elements?’
Axel began to chant again.
‘The elements are bound into minerals.
A solid mass of mineral grains is a rock.
Orthoclase is the most common,
Then sulphides and oxides and carbonates.
Magnetite and haematite contain iron.
They are mined from beneath the central mountain range of Shull.
This is from where the robots came.’
‘Good! And what about here? What about Turing City?’
‘There are mafic igneous rocks beneath Turing City.
From sulphides and oxides such as these we get nickel and cobalt and copper.
And gold and silver, platinum and palladium,
Which help make the metal out of which we twist minds.’
Axel smiled. ‘We have more of these metals than anyone else. That’s why the robots of Turing City are cleverer and more skilful than other robots.’
‘Not necessarily…’ laughed Karel.
‘No, Dad, it’s true. Deanne’s dad said that it was treason to say anything else.’
‘It’s not treason to state facts, Axel.’
But Susan was staring at him again.
‘What?’ said Karel.
‘You should be careful,’ she said. ‘You know what they say about you.’
‘No?’ said Karel, folding his arms. ‘And what exactly do they say about me?’
‘Anyway, it’s true, Dad,’ continued Axel, oblivious to his parents’ simmering argument. He was lost in a world of super robots, of perfect minds and the flashing silent blades of the City Guard. ‘Other robots may have more iron, they may have bigger bodies and more lifeforce, but they don’t have our minds.’
‘It’s not about minds,’ said Karel. ‘It’s about what those minds think. But Axel,’ he said, noting Susan’s glance again. ‘We were talking about Artemis. Why do they want to attack us? Can you tell me?’
‘Well,’ said Axel, carefully. ‘I suppose they want our metal.’
‘Partly right,’ said Karel. ‘Artemis is a barren country. They have had to fight for everything they need. That has been their weakness… and their strength.’
At last they approached the circle of brushed stone that immediately surrounded the parliament arena. Axel stamped down the steps, making the metal ring as he went. Other robots glanced at him and then looked away, and Karel became painfully aware there were few other children attending. Or was the look given because he, Karel himself, was attending? He placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.
‘Gently,’ he said.
Now they walked over bare rock towards the arena itself.
‘You know, this was one of the oldest parts of Turing City,’ said Karel to Axel. ‘Metal rots, but rock endures. The parliament is sited on one of the first mines dug here. When that mine was emptied, they dug down to the galleries and opened them to the sky. They peeled back the earth and carved away the stone to leave this. They wanted to make a point, Axel. What do you suppose that point was?’
‘I don’t know, Dad.’
‘That this place was important. That the parliament is a part of Turing City, that it is the very centre of Turing City.’
‘Yes, Dad.’
‘That’s important, Axel. Remember that. No matter what people say today in this meeting, no matter what they may say about Artemis, just take a look around you. It takes a lot of time to work stone. The people who made this place obviously thought that our parliament was important.’
Deep beneath the earth, Maoco O was dancing.
Long ago, the miners of Turing City had wormed their way down through the rock, following the deposits it contained. The galleries immediately beneath the city had long since been emptied of copper and nickel and silver, so the miners had turned their attention to the coast, eventually tunnelling out beneath the seabed.
Now the City Guard had requisitioned the excavated spaces beneath their own rocky outcrop. They had chiselled and filed the passageways smooth, they had widened them and filled them with armour and weapons and, all the while, with the efficient silence of their duty.
Stone corridor after stone corridor filled with polished bodies, sanded stone, oiled machinery and emptiness. The robots that moved through those quiet passageways did so without disturbing the peace that had taken hold therein, and they barely stirred the air. They passed almost unnoticed, except by the other robots that shared those deep places. No wonder each robot found itself alone, reflected Maoco O. No wonder they felt themselves separate from the city above, separate from their companions, separate even from their own selves in these perfectly engineered bodies.
The only sense of connection the robots felt was like now, when they danced. All war was a dance, he understood. The dance of two combatants moving around each other, seeking the perfect stance from which to swoop forward for the climax. Two robots, two sides, it was all the same thing. And so Maoco O and the others danced in the darkness; moving with grace and elegance through the silent spaces, they practised their craft.
In the silent darkness, Maoco O chassed and spun in perfect synchronization with his partners.
Karel
Karel and his family made their way down the grey tiers of the parliament and found a place to stand on the third terrace. Looking up, they could see the brightly painted robots still spilling over the rim of the bowl.
‘Susan!’
Karel recognized the robot who had called out as one of Susan’s work colleagues. He was beckoning to her from a nearby set of steps that led to the base of the arena. He was an effeminate sort, his body constructed too thin and covered in flimsy steel.
‘Susan, there is a place reserved for you on the first level. You must join us.’
Susan glanced at her husband. ‘No, Shear,’ she said after some hesitation. ‘Go ahead without me. I’m not really needed. My mind is full at the moment. I’ll stay here with my family.’
‘You go,’ said Karel, gazing hard at Shear. ‘You know they need you. I’ll stay here with Axel.’
Susan sounded tired. ‘How long are you going to stay annoyed with me? I told you I was sorry.’
‘I’m not annoyed.’
They stared at each other, neither willing to back down. Reluctantly, Susan made her way along the row and then followed Shear down to the first terrace. Karel saw her take her place amongst other robots from the Statistics office.
And now three robots walked into the centre of the bowl.
‘Pick me up,’ said Axel.
Karel did so, impressed at how heavy his son was getting. To think that he could control that much metal already. His boy was growing up.
‘Look at them, Dad,’ said Axel in a hushed voice. Karel understood why. Their golden skins had been brilliantly polished; they reflected the sunlight in giddy patterns.