Autonoma- Gate 13 Read online

  Facing the flying tin can, I tried to screw up the paper sandwich bags, making as little noise as possible, and knocked them from the table toward Michael’s open dino backpack.

  “You were fast,” I remarked, with a false smile, kicking the paper bags closer to the backpack. “I thought you had to go recharge yourself?”

  “We must leave, Guest.”

  I glanced over to the man with the crying woman as more white orbs swarmed the area.

  “What’s going on?” Michael asked.

  “Apologies, Guest, we must leave immediately,” Henri chanted, turning to face Michael.

  A chime, almost loud enough to deafen most children, resounded in my earpiece. “Attention, due to health and safety requirements, the Food Hall is temporarily closed,” the disembodied voice chanted.

  “What did you do, Henri?” I asked.

  “Apologies, Guest, the Food Hall is closed. Please follow the arrows as indicated on your visor.”

  Whatever had happened, there was a lot of disgruntled people here, and regardless of the demands of the disembodied voice, leaving might not have been such a bad idea.

  “You can’t do this,” the furious man protested, his voice distorted by the swarm of white orbs whizzing across the ceiling toward him.

  “We must allow the Holistic Automated Visitor Observation and Control bots to complete their work,” Henri chimed, like some spaced-out zombie.

  “H.A.V.O.C?” I asked, counting out the words on my fingers. “Those white orbs are called Havoc bots?”

  “Please follow the arrows, Guest. The Food Hall is closed.”

  “Who gives you guys your names?” I ask, astounded. “Some abbreviation mad scientist?”

  “Please follow the arrows, Guest.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I heard you the first time,” I remarked with a sigh.

  Michael climbed down from his seat in pursuit of the yellow tin can, and I looked to the mass of Havoc bots gathering. The loud man was almost hidden among the throng as the woman cried into her hands beside him.

  An electric discharge flashed between the bots as the man cried out through gritted teeth. The walls became bathed in a blue light, flashing and sparking, as the man’s grunts grew weaker.

  A loud thud concluded his howl and I saw him laid out on the floor, as a single Havoc unit turned toward me, its lit eyes a fiery red. I stared back as more turned to face me.

  “Alex?” Michael called out.

  “Yeah,” I responded. “I’m coming.”

  The sight of Michael with Henri hovering at the exit, waiting for me, seemed somehow reassuring. With enthusiasm, I sprinted toward them.

  The Havoc bots dispersed, their eyes a peaceful green, as the man and the crying woman were nowhere to be seen.

  With hesitation, born of confusion, I re-joined the other two.

  “Thank you for visiting the Food Hall. We hope you continue to enjoy your stay at Autonoma Resort,” the disembodied voice chimed.

  Chapter 6

  The Severed Seas

  Caught up in the curiosity of not knowing where we were going, I kept pace with the other two with ease.

  “Our next simulation is one which normally concludes our tour,” Henri declared. “I just know you’re going to love it.”

  “I doubt it,” Michael muttered under his breath.

  “What’s wrong little bro?” I asked, the distraction from the events in the Food Hall welcomed.

  “I’m bored.”

  “How can you be bored? You liked that last ride.”

  “It was alright,” he pouted. “I want your rides though. Yours are better. Mine are for children.”

  How did I break it to him gently? Mom never raised me to be gentle. “But you are a child.”

  Michael glared at me, scrunched up his face, and stomped off.

  I glanced back at the Food Hall and turned to address Henri. “What happened back there?”

  “Was there a problem with your food?”

  “No, well, I mean, there was a man complaining, and those Havoc bots--”

  “Detained,” the bot remarked, his tone a little despondent.

  “Detained?”

  “Correct.”

  “Oh,” I replied, unsure if I was satisfied with Henri’s ‘explanation’.

  “It is for your safety and the safety of the other guests. Violence cannot be tolerated. Autonoma is for the betterment of all, all will enjoy it, and it will remain safe.”

  “Oh, OK,” I responded, unnerved by Henri’s resonance.

  “Autonoma was built for you, we cannot allow the actions of a few to disrupt what continues to be a glorious day,” the bot chimed, hovering off to catch up with Michael.

  At the risk of the antique tin can blowing a fuse, or a gasket, or a valve, I wasn’t sure what he ran on, I decided it better to drop the issue. Besides, I wasn’t sure I liked his answers.

  I stepped down from the last stone of a staircase cut into the face of a cliff, and my foot sank into the immaculate white sand. I watched the waves lap at it, turning it to a deeper, darker brown, as in the deeper water, a boat waits for me, bobbing at the side of a wooden jetty.

  “Oh wow,” Michael gasped.

  “What is it?” I asked, spinning to face him.

  “A boat!”

  “Yeah,” I replied, a little deflated he could see this one-seater boat too. It couldn’t be for both of us, and I was not having him on my lap.

  “Yay,” he squealed, as he raced past me and onto the wooden planks, turning away from the boat and stepping forward toward the water.

  “Wait!” I shouted.

  Disregarding my pleas, he stepped onto a faint outline of a boat on the other side of the jetty materializing on my visor. “Weeee,” he squealed, as the stern of the vessel squatted in the water, followed by a swell of water erupting from the otherwise calm surface.

  The boat sped off toward the horizon, without so much as a bye, as I watched his info bubble update, ‘Michael - The Severed Seas’.

  A smile spread across my face as I drew nearer to the fully formed boat waiting for me. A green arrow pulsated at the base of the seat, as a ‘Start/Stop’, button throbbed with a blue glow on the dash.

  Obediently, I took my seat.

  ‘START ENGINE’, appeared on my visor with a green arrow pointing to the already obvious button.

  Did they think I was that stupid?

  I pressed the button and the engine started. A stick to my right looked like the throttle, and I pushed it forward a notch. The noise of the motor increased.

  ‘RELEASE MOORING LINES’, flashed on my visor.

  I released the boat from the jetty and settled back down in my seat. After a few more prompts from Autonoma, I pulled away.

  As my confidence built, I progressed with speed across the open water. With the warm wind racing through my hair, bringing with it the mist of each wave breaking across the bow of the boat, I felt an almost natural proficiency. Alone, controlling this machine, I felt much more at home than I did in any of the previous simulations; without the cumbersome space suit, or the ridiculous bobsled.

  Gentle turns of the wheel gave way to more aggressive and deliberate maneuvers. I was a master of the seas, who would’ve guessed it?

  Caught in the powerful grasp of a large wave, the boat snapped back to the center, throwing me from my seat and I released the throttle.

  As the engine turned to a quiet tick over, I gathered my bearings, retaking my position at the wheel, a little sheepish and embarrassed. A quick glance around confirmed no-one saw anything. Perhaps my mastery was a little presumptuous.

  I pushed the throttle forward a little, my pride jarred, and my confidence knocked, keeping it to a gentle, controlled jaunt across the small waves for a while.

  Ahead, two islands, complete with palm trees and yellow sand, formed an inviting channel. I turned the wheel to adjust my course as a green arrow materialized at the bow, encouraging me onward, toward a leopard standing on
the shore watching me.

  For some reason, I’m not sure why, I felt the need to wave to it, like I always did when I was out on a walk at home and I saw a dog across the road.

  The animal snorted its displeasure, and I retracted my hand to my chest, hoping again no-one saw me.

  Pushing the throttle forward, I proceeded through the channel, following the green arrows as they lit up.

  ‘WARNING’, flashed on my visor. ‘HOSTILES DETECTED’.

  Hostiles? Like an angry shark, or that displeased leopard riding a raft in hot pursuit of the waving idiot?

  On cue, as the warnings flashed on my visor, the skies turned from a cloudless blue, to a foreboding grey. The wind turned cold and cruel, carrying with it the distant rumble of cannon fire. A shadow, large enough to turn the waters as far as I could see to a smoky black, spread across the surface of my vessel. From the stern to the bow, the darkness took few seconds to engulf my boat.

  I looked behind as a ship, torn from the history pages, charged toward my position.

  What was a ship from the 1700s doing here?

  ‘PREPARE TO BE BOARDED’.

  Boarded? I’m in a small boat! There’s was no way that big old thing could keep up with me.

  I reached for the throttle.

  My visor went black, and my little brother’s scream pierced my earpiece.

  “Michael?” I cried, reaching out, searching for something, anything to help him, as his screams persisted.

  “It’s OK,” I repeated, “I’m here, it’s OK.”

  “Help me, Alex!”

  I saw his eyes, filled with terror and fear. His face, obstructed by the torn and disfigured remains of concrete - twisted and splintered by the rusting iron rods, contorted with anguish and despair. Between the rubble, a hand, his hand, reached out to me. His fingers were strained and outstretched, his nails bloodied as though he’d clawed to get this far.

  I stared back, confused, lost.

  “Don’t leave me behind,” he pleaded.

  My visor went dark and Michael’s face faded to nothingness.

  Autonoma Resort’s logo appeared, except it was not like the others. It was not like the ones I saw on the outside when we arrived in the escape pod. It was not like the ones I saw on the shuttle, or in the Food Hall. It was not like the one on my visor before. This one was red, jagged and displaced, like it was rusted, rotten, or decaying.

  The unknown logo flickered on my screen as the word ‘ERROR’, repeated at the bottom.

  ‘UNKNOWN USER DETECTED’.

  What the hell was going on?

  “Michael? Can you hear me?”

  Nothing.

  ‘SYSTEM REBOOT INITIATED’.

  “Michael?” I cried, my heart racing and my chest tight.

  A hoarse voice pierced the solitude. “Autonoma will prevail. It always does.”

  “Simulation terminated. Welcome to Autonoma Resort,” chanted the disembodied voice.

  My visor lit up, casting me in a cubic room. The white lights overhead glared against the pristine white walls. Broken into squares of plastic or rubber each 4 foot by 4 foot in size, the walls were identical on all sides, blending with the identical ceiling. If it wasn’t for the shadows of the Havoc bots racing across overhead, dashing with haste between the narrow openings at the top of the walls, it would be near enough impossible to distinguish where the walls stopped, and the ceiling started.

  In front of me, half of a wheel stood fixed on top a white block. Either side, grey cubes with vents and openings faced my position. I looked down to the white block I was sitting upon, which stood approximately six feet from the floor.

  “Well that was a let-down,” my little brother remarked, snatching my attention.

  “Michael?” I gasped, “Are you OK?”

  “Of course, I’m OK. It’s just broken, that’s all.”

  “No, I mean I saw --”

  “Apologies, Guest, this simulation is closed for your safety,” Henri chimed. “Please follow the arrows.”

  Disorientated, confused and bewildered, I remained unmoved, scanning my surroundings.

  “Alex?” Michael barked.

  “Yeah,” I murmured, “I’m coming.”

  I watched my little brother climb down from the series of white blocks beside me, as the grey cubes puffed and panted with mist, the sound of waves playing through the speakers, stuck on repeat.

  They must have been the experience blocks Henri talked about.

  “Please follow the arrows, Guest,” the bot chanted.

  “Yeah, I heard you.”

  With care, I used the small ladder to climb down to the floor. A series of blocks on hydraulic lifters twitched as though they were calibrating or stuck. The arrow toward the exit pulsated as the old tin can watched from the exit.

  “What the hell happened there?” I demanded, reaching out to grab the bot.

  “It was just a break down. Why have you always got to overreact to everything?” Michael interjected.

  “That was not just a break down,” I snapped to the bot, disregarding my little brother. “Something happened back there. Something I didn’t much like. So, you better damn well tell me what the hell is going on here?”

  The bot’s painted on eyes stared back at me.

  “Oh, forget it, Henri,” my little brother remarked. “Alex gets angry over everything.”

  The bot turned to face Michael, absent of any words.

  I could feel the anger burn in my chest as I tensed my arms and fingers.

  “Where are we going next?” my little brother asked the bot.

  My lip twitched, and I lashed out at the wall beside me, pounding my fist into the plastic panel.

  Breaking from its path across the ceiling, a Havoc bot flew toward me, followed by three more.

  “Alex,” Michael whimpered, as more Havoc bots turned toward me.

  My attention turned to the dented plastic panel as the broken reflection of Henri’s painted on eyes grew larger within it.

  “Please, Guest,” the bot chimed, calm and proper as he always was, “follow the arrows.”

  “Yes,” I replied, gaining control over my temper. “Yes, the arrows.”

  Offering his hand to me, I accepted Michael’s gesture, as Henri waited behind, hovering between us and the Havoc bots.

  I followed my little brother out of the room, back onto the sandy shore of the beach, looking back as Henri hovered toward us. Behind him, the image of the powerboat bobbed in the ocean as the wooden jetty flickered and rebuilt, concealing the cubes we were sitting on.

  Everything seemed to have been restored, or rebooted, or something. I didn’t know anymore. What is, and what isn’t started to become a blur, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.

  “Central Control have permitted a change in our itinerary, Guest,” Henri declared, catching up to us. “Our next simulation takes place in the jungle.”

  The green arrows extinguished, reappeared, and projected a new route ahead.

  I followed behind in silence.

  “Please take a seat,” Henri chimed, as an old army 4x4 pulled up alongside.

  Michael climbed into the back. “Come on, Alex.”

  I watched the motionless driver for a moment and joined my little brother’s side. The engine fired up, and the old truck pulled off.

  I looked to Henri, watching him hover off, back toward where we came from.

  “Why doesn’t he ever come with us?” my little brother asked.

  “Probably has to go charge himself, or something,” I replied, my mind preoccupied.

  “Maybe.”

  “Hostiles ahead,” the robotic manakin of a driver remarked, his hollow eyes glaring at me. “Take these.”

  Two crates at our feet pulsated with the blue glow synonymous with our objectives.

  I opened mine to find a pistol and a rifle.

  Michael opened his and found the same.

  “Make your way up the track. The rest of the troop are waiting
for you,” the driver declared, as his dead-eyed glare returned forward. The truck rocked to a halt, and the green arrows encouraged us to hop off. We obeyed.

  “This is more like it,” Michael rejoiced, his voice peppered with enthusiasm and excitement, as we ventured into the jungle.

  “I dunno,” I replied, “I’m not really sure this is appropriate for your age.”

  “I’m not scared,” he remarked, confident and sure.

  “Well, I guess Henri wouldn’t have sent us here if it wasn’t appropriate for you.”

  “I’m not a baby.”

  A quiet chortle escaped my lips, the humor welcomed.

  “Well, if you’re sure,” I remarked, pointing my pistol up the slope, “lead the way.”

  Michael’s face filled with a broad smile, and he launched forward.

  I watched him, comforted by the knowledge what I saw in the last simulation was some twisted bug in the system. I had no idea why it did it, and why it did it to Michael, but I was glad it was over.

  The troop launched forward from their position, as the crackle of gun fire pierced the air, my little brother glancing back to make sure I was keeping up.

  “Autonoma will prevail,” the hoarse voice hissed into my earpiece. “It always does.”

  “Wait,” I shouted, reaching out to Michael.

  A Havoc bot crashed to the ground, brushing my fingertips as it fell. My little brother stopped and turned toward me, as another collided with the floor a few paces ahead.

  “It’s not real, it’s just the bad guys firing at us,” he retorted, his innocent eyes filled with the wonder of Autonoma.

  “They’re Havoc bots,” I cried, grabbing him by the shoulder. “This isn’t part of it. This shouldn’t be happening.”

  A third and fourth bot shattered on the floor, as a fifth grazed the white plastic wall, tearing a hole in the simulated trees of the jungle.

  “We have to get out of here, now!”

  Dropping the pistol from my grasp, we raced back down the slope, dodging more Havoc bots as they fell from the ceiling.

  As the jungle around us was torn apart, the fear of what I saw returned to me.