Jarvis
What appeared to be the unbroken surface of the ground was ten-foot squares of aluminium that the designers had laid so seamlessly that it was impossible to see the join. I watched as two adjacent squares opened up like trap doors, and Rogers and McCloud tumbled in. The doors instantly returned to their original position, and I was suddenly alone on a gigantic chessboard. There was no sign of Sol, and I had no idea what to do other than walk over to the place where my comrades had disappeared. I pressed down on the surface, but the aluminium did not budge. Kneeling and putting my ear on the floor revealed an absence of sound or vibration. It was a hopeless situation, and I blamed myself for not putting safeguards in place and allowing the whole group to walk out into unknown territory in what was now an alien world.
I stood up and again searched the horizon for any sign of Sol, but I could see nothing. I was thinking what to do next when the ground suddenly opened up, and I slid down an incline to land on my feet about twenty feet down.
A male voice came from the darkness: "No te preocupes, estás seguro." At least they were the modern Spanish Argentinian words, but his speech was heavily inflected. It was different from the dialect learned during my original ten-year stay on the base, but I understood enough to know that he was saying, "Don't worry, you are safe now."
The speaker stepped out of the darkness, and we stared at each other in fascination.
He was about five feet tall with pale skin and wore a simple tunic with bare arms and a knee-length skirt made from what appeared to be the fungi I had seen dyed brown. From a narrow belt around his waist hung a large pouch, and on his feet were close-fitting open-toe sandals with a flexible, ridged base that firmly gripped the rough terrain. His headgear was remarkably similar to the Kepi Blanc worn by the legionnaires of the French Foreign Legion; it had a wide brim and a fabric that hung down at the back, presumably to protect his neck from the sun when he was on the surface.
When the mutual inspection was over, he led me down a long passage that carried faint traces of chlorine in the air, and I guessed correctly that the machines had been trying to gas them out, rather like a farmer would clear a rabbit warren. We stopped at a wooden door and entered a small private chamber, spartanly furnished with a desk, four or five hardback chairs, and a locked cabinet. Hung on the walls were a variety of unfamiliar weapons. There were electric lights powered by generators, which also provided an efficient form of air conditioning, and I did not find any problem with the temperature or air quality.
He introduced himself as Marco and assured me that Rogers and McCloud were safe. He began the conversation by saying that they had spotted us under the guard of 'El Gigante, ' the robot and were preparing to come up and free us when they saw it walk off in another direction. I tried to explain that Sol had a human mind and was a friend, but he was politely sceptical. The conversation was friendly, but we had to repeat what we said and occasionally resort to mime. I countered by saying that we were grateful for their desire to come to our assistance, even if it were unnecessary, but how could they have hoped to overcome the mighty Sol?
He grinned and unhooked from the wall a bolas, an ancient throwing weapon consisting of a length of cord with a weighted ball on each end, which the assailant whirled about his head and hurled at an enemy to bring him down by wrapping itself around his head or legs. It was my turn to be sceptical, but Marcos showed me that the cord on the bolas was of heavy-duty metal wire, and he pointed to the balls and said la electricidad.
The wire wrapped itself around an android's neck, allowing the strong electrical current flowing through the wire to temporarily disrupt the machine's command programme and stop it from functioning. It was an ingenious idea, but I would not have liked to put it to the test with a hostile robot the size of Sol.
We talked a little more, and he briefly explained what their historical records revealed about the rule of machines in the two thousand years since they conquered Earth and the ways humans had adapted to life under AI.
The sound of an alarm bell a short distance away caused Marco to pause.
"Breakthrough," he said. "Follow me."
He made for the door, stopping briefly to take down a three-pronged spear from the wall that resembled the Trident held by a mythical Neptune, but with blunted points. As we moved into the corridor, we could hear loud shouting and the sound of people running. About fifty yards down, the corridor turned sharply to the left, and scuttling around the corner, coming straight towards us, were a group of what looked like chimpanzees, with teeth bared, screaming in anger and terror.
When they saw us, or rather caught our scent, they slithered to an abrupt halt, and the screaming intensified. I could see them more clearly now, and with shock, I saw they were not chimpanzees but human dwarves. Fine black hair covered their bodies, and they wore a primitive shift made from a cloth-like material. There were six of them, and all carried various disfigurements. One had an elongated head, another had a withered arm, and all had hideous faces with deformed or non-existent features. They were barefoot, and I could see that the nails on their toes had mutated to become long and bone-like, with the tips bent over to serve as claws for digging.
"Trogs," said Marco. "Let them pass; they are more afraid than hostile. I will keep them at bay with the trident. They are virtually blind."
As the sound of pursuit behind them increased, the group shuffled forward, slowly at first and then at a gallop, as a group of Marco's people appeared at the corner.
The dwarves came close to crashing into us, but Marco pushed them away with his trident, and we watched as they vanished one by one down a narrow hole in the ground twenty yards away. Marco turned to face the pursuers and lifted his hand to indicate it was all over. They waved back, and we returned to Marco's office.
"The human species has split up into different groups," said Marco, " and we are not the only ones living beneath the surface. Far below us is the primitive race you have just seen, who have adapted to living deep underground in interconnecting warrens. They are savages who periodically come to the surface when their numbers become too great. It is a form of self-regulated population control; the beasts launch suicide attacks on any android craft they can find on the ground, and the machines kill them all. They regard us as spirits and are frightened, but we are glad they keep away from us, although the machines class all of us underground dwellers as troglodytes, vermin they must eradicate."
"Why did the humans split up into different groups?" I asked.
"Over a thousand years ago," Marco replied, "AI devised a way to reduce our numbers. They devised a super concentrated form of the radioactive gas, Radon-2222, that was strong enough to kill people and pumped it into localised areas, initially towns and later cities, when they perfected the technique. The gas has a relatively short half-life, has no colour, odour, or taste, and is ideal in the fact that it leaves the real estate intact. Humans who survived and reproduced had a high incidence of mutated offspring, and these branched off into subspecies. Those who bred true had to be pretty ruthless and weed out any mutants to preserve the purity of the line. A necessary task, but it was not humanity's finest hour. Both the pure-bred humans and the mutants developed further subspecies, and we are a group that adapted to living underground. AI modified other humans to become serfs, suited only for menial work."
Marco smiled. "That is enough history for today. I know you want to see your friends and find out what happened to your robot. We can talk some more tomorrow."
I agreed. The survival of the group was my responsibility, and Sol, including Steven, of course, would be in great danger from the patrolling drones Marco had told me about and whatever else wandered the silver plain. Before we left, we had opted not to carry personal communication devices because the machines would detect them, and there was no way of contacting Sol.