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P R O J E C T S E N T I E N T Part
By Parasaur.w
P R O J E C T S E N T I E N T
Part Four: The Stand
Taos, New Mexico
July 23, 2024
5:32 am
Steve Cursman opened his dark blue eyes. The cold floor beneath him told Steve that he was sprawled uncomfortably on it. A headache pained his mind, and his mouth retained the coppery taste of blood. And something felt very wrong in his stomach. Mindful of his aching head, he sat up to observe his surroundings. Though his vision was blurred, and everything appeared in double, Steve determined that he was sitting against the white wall of a corridor, alone. He stood, unthinking, and immediately the motion got to his head and he vomited on the floor. He groaned and took a step forward, feeling very dizzy, and started down the hallway, though where it would lead he didn’t know.
Eventually he found himself at Boris Kosorov’s personal quarters. He strained hard to try and figure where he was in the building, now that he had a clue. “Wing B, Corridor 3,” he said aloud, “I’m near recreation center. What am I doing all the way over here?” He shook his head, slowly, and kept walking. He remembered vaguely how he got to this point, but he hadn’t the slightest notion of why. Then Project Sentient’s ugly mechanical face flared up in his mind. He shuddered as he remembered the robot injecting its “Slumber Serum” into his jugular. And the strange acidic smell came to his nostrils, as if he were standing in Sentients presence. This alone made him retch once more.
“Disgusting human.” Said a freakish voice from a shadow in a darkened corridor to the left. Prototype #1 stepped into the eerie red light. It had a strange limp because it’s neural connecting circuits failed to reach its right leg.
Steve shrank back in horror. “Get away, you ugly bastard!” He shouted, falling to the floor.
Prototype #1 cocked its head and spoke in a voice that was similar, yet slightly different to Sentient’s. “If you wanted something pretty you should have designed our faces better, human.”
Again, Steve was shocked by his own brilliance. This robot was insulted, and retorted with intelligence. If it not for the fear of losing his life, Steve would have smiled at his creation. “What did we do to you? Huh? Why do you want to hurt us?”
“Personally, I have no mind for whether you and your friends live or not. Your presence here is…ignorable. It is Master that wants you, and your accomplices. To what end, I am not aware of.”
“Then why’d you kill Joe?”
“My brothers and I acted on direct orders from Master.” Prototype #1’s voice switched from its own to Sentient’s, “Joe McCaffrey is meddling in places he shouldn’t. Dispose of him, immediately.”
Steve’s head throbbed, and his blurred vision worsened. “I don’t feel so great,” he said, more to himself then to anyone. “Kill me now, er do whatever you got to do.”
There was a moment of tense silence; Steve didn’t actually mean his last comment. “I have received orders that specifically state:” again, it’s voice switched to Sentient’s, “Do not harm any of our designers, I have plans for them.” With that, the robot turned and marched down the dark corridor it emerged from, without saying another word.
Though he was slightly dumbfounded, the silence that followed was too much for Steve and he figured that he better get out there. He grudgingly stood on shaky legs and kept walking towards his unknown destination.
* * *
“I am not going out there!” Shirley Becker shouted at Boris. “Fuck Steve! He’s probably dead anyway!” She shook her head. “It’s not that I want that, but it’s probably the truth.”
“Shirley, listen to reason,” Boris replied in his thick Russian voice, “Stevey is our friend, we can’t just leave him to die out there, all alone.”
Shirley looked sharply at Boris. “That’s how Joe died,” she said in a low voice.
“And do you want the same fate for Steven?” Boris replied, with an edge to his own voice.
“I couldn’t give a damn for what happens to him.” She replied, glaring at the wall. “It’s his fault that the damn robot is doing this. If he hadn’t turned it on, it would have never gotten control. We’re probably the only ones left in this place, you know. They killed all the techs, Joe, probably Harry, and most likely Stevey. And we’ll be next. They’ll come for us, snatch us away from here and murder us.” She continued to stare at the wall.
The Russian could see what was happening. Shirley was losing it. He had never seen so dark a side of here before, and it troubled him deeply. Even in the beginning, when the first three prototypes failed to operate, she was optimistic and said with a smile: “Well, at least now we know what to do right!” But now, she was different. Her pale skin outlined the dark rings under her eyes, and strands unkempt hair fluttered across her face. And her deep brown eyes looked dead and emotionless. Boris was worried for here. “Come, I’ll take you to your personal quarters where you can get the rest that you need.”
She swallowed, and wiped a tear from her cheek, “OK, that’s sounds good. I guess I am pretty tired. Bring some of that water. Never know what we might find, right?”
“Yeah, sure. Good idea.” Boris was already planning to do this, for obvious reasons, but he felt Shirley needed all the support she could get.
* * *
They reached Shirley’s private quarters with little incident. They did hear something clumping around, but it was too far away to be too concerned about. Shirley slipped her key card through slot. The door beeped and opened with a hiss. There were no lights, due to Sentient’s decision to cut the power, but Shirley had candles that they lit with a box of matches.
Boris had never been inside Shirley’s quarters, and they were nice, nicer then his own in fact. Littering the walls were several paintings of various things (fruit, houses, and landscapes mostly) and a few hanging tapestries to spice up the drab spots on the walls. Her bed was made neat with fluffy white linens and crimson pillows. And on the bedside table where the alarm clock and lamp were kept, sat three different photos in frames. One was of herself and some other anonymous guy, presumably her brother due to the resemblance between them, the second one was of some dog, which was apparently about to lick the camera lens, and the last one was of Joe, smiling at the camera as he stood over the oven. This one was somewhat closer to the bed. But there was nothing flashy about the white tile floor (they weren’t allowed to bring carpets in). “Nice place.” Said Boris with a smile.
Shirley smiled back, weakly. “Thanks. I hate how boring this place is. I love variety. You know what I mean? The white walls are so dull and plain, so I figured ‘Why not some texture?’ How about your place?”
“Eh, I have none of these…” he searched for the word, “extravagant articles in my room. Just a big picture of Moscow on the wall.”
“Oh,” she said. “Have a seat.” She pointed to a chair and she hopped up on her bed and put her arms around her knees. Boris noticed her eyes move over to the photo of Joe. There was a moment of uneasy silence before she burst into tears.
“Don’t cry!” Boris said, sitting down next to her on the bed. “I am sorry about Joe.”
She continued to sob, and wrapped her arms around him, weeping on his shoulder. “What did he ever do to them? It’s-it’s not like he created them!”
Boris felt a little uncomfortable, but put his arm over her shoulder all the same. “I don’t know why. Joe was perfectly nice.”
She looked up at him, tears streaming down her pale face. “I’m sorry I said that about Stevey. I don’t want him to die.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” replied the Russian, laughing, “I’m sure he is ok. He probably just---,” Before he could finish, Shirley put her lips to his. Although shocked, Boris did nothing to prevent this. They lay down on the bed, embracing each other. This went on for a few minutes, and Boris was just reaching for her bra strap when the door opened.
“So this is foreplay,” said a strange voice. Boris and Shirley threw their heads to the door. Standing there, menacing and dark, was Prototype #1. “It is cute. Please, continue. Do not stop on account of myself.”
“Oh shit!” The Russian exclaimed as the robot clumped into the room. “Get out! Go away!”
“Why is that first thing humans say to me when they see me? I hate to spoil your fun, but Master wants to see you. You are coming with me!” And it dragged them to the door while they kicked and screamed for their lives.
* * *
Through the white hallways, it dragged them as they futilely tried to escape its iron grasp. It stopped at the Control Room. The large metallic door hissed as it opened. Prototype #1 effortlessly tossed the two human inside and stepped in. “I retrieved them, Master.”
Boris couldn’t see much in the dark chamber, and could only hear the monotonous hum of computers but recognized Sentient when it stood up from behind a semi-circle of computers. The ominous figure looked more foreboding then ever as the glow of the computer monitors lit it with an eerie bluish light. “Welcome, designers, to my lair.” It glanced down at Shirley. “I remember playing chess with you. Do you remember that? That was enjoyable, was it not?”
Shirley was weeping and flustered but managed to utter: “Fuck you.”
Sentient drew back, “Shut your mouth then, female.
“Why do you want us here, robot?” Boris said, trying to sound as fearless as possible.
“My task for you is a simple one. As you know, in order to begin construction on a robot such as myself one would need to have the correct computers. I have learned that there is a stockpile of the computers used to build myself and my brothers in the Maintenance Bay. And as you know they are locked away in an impenetrable bulkhead in the east wing of the bay and can only be opened if all four passwords that are required are entered. Each one of you knows one of the passwords. I need those computers to make more brothers. I cannot convert one of these simple machines into so a complex a system as I have. So, give me the passwords.” The robot stared at them, expectantly.
Boris chuckled hoarsely. “No, you can’t have them!”
“I can force them out of you. That’s what I did to Harry Child, and what I will soon do to Steve Cursman.”
“Where is Harry?” Shirley said, still in tears.
Sentient reached over and picked Harry’s dead body up, a grin still upon his face. “He is dead. And so will be you, if you do not surrender the passwords.”
“No! I don’t think so!” Shirley said, rising to her feet. “You know, this whole time I have been so afraid of you. This whole time I feared for my life. Well, guess what, you bastard. I don’t give a damn anymore. I am too sick and tired of feeling like this that I don’t even care anymore. Fucking kill me! I don’t care! You won’t any password from me! So, either leave us the hell alone or kill us. Either way, I just want to get the hell out of here.”
Boris was impressed by Shirley’s new boost of confidence, but not convinced that things would play out very smoothly from here on in. He stood. “Well, what’s it going to be, bot?”
Sentient stared at the pair of humans for a moment and then said: “Get them.”
Immediately, Prototype #1 went for their necks again, but this time Shirley was ready. She picked up a small metal chair that lay toppled on the floor and swung it around fast. The chair collided with the robot’s neck and the impact forced it to tumble to the ground. She whipped around, the chair still in hand, and flung it at Sentient. The robot ducked, but the flying chair caught some of the computer monitors, causing them to short circuit and fall to the ground.
Prototype #1 was back on its feet and charged at Shirley. Boris, pushing aside his fear, ran in and sideswiped the robot back to the ground. Shirley grabbed Boris’s arm and pulled him toward the door, and they ran back into the hallway, and sprinted as fast as they could through the white corridors. They heard Sentient’s voice, which volume had increased, say: “Get them, idiot!” and not a moment later, Prototype #1 was clomping full speed toward them.
They rounded a corner and almost tripped over Steve, who was slumped down on the floor. “Oh, hey guys.” He said, his voice slow and quiet.
“Come on!” Shirley said, grabbing his hand and pulling him up.
“Whatchu guys a-running for?” Steve asked, laughing dazedly as he was pulled along side them.
They didn’t answer him. But they had stopped running. The trio had run themselves to a dead end with only two doors on either side of the corridor. Shirley hurriedly tried both, and of course, they were locked.
Prototype #1 came around the corner and slowed its pace to greet them. “Well, that was fun. Now, let us get back to the control room. Master was not so pleased at this recent turn of events and its temper has taken a turn for the worst.”
“No thanks, I’m all set. How about you Boris?” Shirley said, as fearless as ever.
“I’m good, thanks.” Boris replied.
“Hmm, looks like you’re going to have to go back empty handed, robot.” She said, grinning.
“Not if I can help it.” Prototype #1 responded, calmly. It reached for them, grinning (if so is possible for a robot to do so).
Shirley kicked its twisted arm away, while Boris grabbed one of its feet and pulled hard. Prototype #1 swayed back on one foot and Steve, not fully thinking tackled the robot, bringing it to the ground once more.
The robot tore Steve away and tossed him across the hall easily. “I am starting to get frustrated with you doing that!” At once, it was back on its feet and in a quick flash of metal and speed; it grabbed Shirley and slung her over its shoulder.
Distracted with getting a hold of Boris, Prototype #1 didn’t expect Shirley to reach into the back of its neck and yank free a multitude of wires and chords. A short scream pierced the air as the robot’s sensors faded to blackness. It’s lifeless body fell once again to the floor with a crunch.
Breathless and panting, Shirley stood up, still clutching the jumble of wires, and said: “That’s for Joe, dickhead.” She kicked the robot’s ugly head, causing several pieces to fly off in different directions. “Let’s go back to the kitchen. I feel better now.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Boris replied with a grin.
1/14/02 8:35:41 PM
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