Chapter 18 #2
“I’m custom built,” Gokiburi said. “Motori made me from various parts. I have a Zenkyoza core.”
“Thank you for telling me.” I knew I sounded strained and looked tense, but I couldn’t help it.
I never expected to meet a sentient Zenkyoza bot, even if her body was built from other parts. In my mind, Zenkyoza was evil and so was everything they made. Gokiburi returned to her soundless conversation with Dean, and Motori patted my back.
“She’s a great double badminton partner, and she builds comfy sheds out of scrap metal. You’ll get used to her.”
“So—we can stay?” I asked.
“We’ll kick you out if you’re annoying and play loud music after noon. Speaking of which, you caught us just before bedtime. We’ll talk after dark, all right? Gokiburi will look after you and make sure you don’t steal anything we need. Goodnight.”
Both tanuki took off into the sky with a whirr of their flying machine engines. I looked between Clanker and Gokiburi, then straightened my back and forced a smile. I’d be fine, I told myself. I had my mission, like always, and it was enough.
“So they just took off,” I said awkwardly, cursing myself for being so stiff, but I couldn’t help it. She was Zenkyoza, she was gorgeous, and she was stealing my Clanker. I couldn’t relax.
“Motori and Isamu value their sleep,” she said melodiously. “They trust me to keep you safe. Why don’t I give you a tour? Your project will likely take a week or two to complete, since it’s not easy to build a functional robot out of scrap.”
I looked around as we passed heaps large and small, quickly realizing the contents of the landfill was sorted according to some elaborate system.
Some heaps were all rust while others gleamed with clean, shiny metal.
The further we went, the more valuable the trash.
Here and there, robots sorted through piles.
We stopped in front of a tall, metal wall. Gokiburi pressed her hand to a part of it that was frankly indistinguishable from the rest, and a seamless door slid open.
“And here is our factory.”
My jaw dropped when we stepped inside. Dozens of robots were at work, fitting together robot parts, programming bright, fizzing cores, or working on circuit boards with tiny precision tools.
They were custom like Gokiburi, and came in a large variety, with male, female, or featureless oval faces, their bodies lean or bulky, tall or short.
“Are they all sentient?” I asked, shaking my head in disbelief. It was like a revolution.
“No. It’s not so easy to awaken. I’m special.” Gokiburi laughed in a graceful, tinkling way, and I glanced at Dean, expecting him to sport purple hearts for eyes, but he looked at the working robots.
“They are building more. Looks like twenty robots are being assembled here,” he said.
“Yes.” Gokiburi went farther inside, and we followed.
It was cool thanks to a few AC units blasting cold air.
“When the land for this special landfill was needed, the tanuki offered their territory in return for self-governance. The corporations got to dump their waste without trouble, and the tanuki were happy, because they didn’t have to depend on a central government anymore.
Most species are diurnal, and infrastructure and administration are organized around that majority. ”
“And the tanuki are nocturnal.” I nodded, blinking away when a bright green core stamped with the Zenkyoza logo flared with a burst of light. The robot working on it was connected to it with a thick cable.
“They are also very resourceful,” Gokiburi said.
“All kinds of technology get dumped at the landfill. The tanuki quickly figured out much of it was reusable. The large corporations don’t bother with recycling since it requires a different type of infrastructure and is more bothersome in the long run.
Most of the scrap landing here is highly valuable to those who know how to build things out of trash. ”
We passed a robot performing simple commands under the surveillance of another robot. It jumped a few times, did a few steps of salsa, and cited a text in what sounded like Arabic. I looked at Dean. Our eyes met, and I jolted.
“What would Sera Evans, the journalist and influencer, say about this place?” he asked softly.
I looked around again. “She would applaud the lack of waste and question the safety of this operation. Robots building more robots is a doomsday scenario.”
I shrugged when Gokiburi turned to give me a penetrating look. Her eyes shone gold. She was really beautiful, though bald. I imagined her head must have come with a gorgeous wig when it was originally produced. A pleasure bot.
“We take care to keep our databases clean of doomsday-inciting materials,” she said.
“But you’re right to be concerned, of course.
We can be dangerous. On the other hand, I hear there are human neighborhoods that are little more than breeding grounds for criminals. Killers, terrorists, junkies, rapists…”
“I get it,” I said forcefully. “Yes, there are plenty of bad humans around, and we make other humans, too. Can we move on? We should get started on our project.”
“We will not give you any of our custom bots for your mission,” Gokiburi said smoothly, leading us out through a door on the other side of the building.
“They are multipart models that will immediately raise suspicions. If you want our help, you need to hide our involvement. You must build a robot that’s indistinguishable from a factory one.
Dean has all the necessary information. Good luck. ”
She walked back inside, leaving us alone.
It was hot out here after the cool of the factory.
I looked around, finding neat, small piles of limbs, heads, and cores in protective boxes.
Further down were strange little shacks made from metal.
Some were rectangular, others hexagonal, and they gleamed in the sun.
Dean took my hand and pulled me toward an enormous water tank made of white plastic.
“This is safe to drink,” he said, grabbing a clean glass from a stack of five, then pointed to the right at a one-story building made of metal.
“Toilets and showers are there. Gokiburi let us stay in the biggest shed, the rectangular one. It has a place to sleep and a charging station. She makes them for a hobby.”
I glanced at the sheds, nodding. More art, wasn’t it? This time, it was architecture made from recycled scrap metal. I wondered what she tried to say through her work.
It seemed like every sentient robot I knew of had some kind of vocation.
“What would you like to do?” I asked Dean. “If you could be anyone, do anything, what would it be?”
He shrugged, looking away. “I’m enjoying myself now. Hiding, negotiating with landfill guardians, and planning how to take down a corporation with a few pieces of scrap metal. It’s fun.”
I drank the water, then rinsed out the glass and ran it through a UV cleaner that stood next to the tank.
Dean took my hand and pulled me toward one of the robot arm piles.
He rummaged through them, explaining we had to find all the parts for the same Zenkyoza model.
The parts had to be functional and undamaged, which turned this into quite a challenge.
“Gokiburi said they make custom fits because it’s easier to find working parts from various brands and get them to fit together than to assemble all-original models. Here, hold this. She said they have a perfect core for this model.”
I took a robot arm and almost stumbled from the weight. It had to be over fifty pounds. Dean shot me a smirk.
“You’re due for a workout after lying around all day yesterday. Do some squats. And let me see.”
I snorted. “Really? You want to watch me do squats? What for?”
“What do you think?”
He winked and went to look for a torso. I shrugged, putting the arm away on the ground, and warmed up. Maybe I still had a chance.