Chapter 13: Finding Bob Polion

Remember them, remember the tenants of our organization.

Roger seemed to be having some visions of a distant memory, far distant than his own. It was not even a memory, just a few instances of hearing men and women lurking in the shadows with modified echoing voices. They spoke in an intensive deliberate manner, following each word with its dedicated space to imply the true meaning, to give it its proper weight. He was sitting on a rail, watching the hideout from afar before he fell into a bewildered state. He rubbed his eyes before spotting Tamara coming from afar, she wore a coat. He could no longer focus on her; it was difficult to define what she was anymore other than an asset, a means to an end.

"You're late," Roger spoke, the gray hood shrouded his head. The young lady stood panting; she seemed to be rushing through the streets of Garlem before getting to the site. She ignored him, pulling the keys from her bag. Roger knew Bob would keep a double at the house. He took the key from her hand, striding towards the entrance of Bob's workshop.

The workshop was the first location in the 3D map.

He turned the keys and pushed the door, walking inside through a court of dust. He stepped in a slow manner, head rotating in search of a lead. Tamara followed him through, pulling her feet across a rummaged mess of wood on the floor. Roger's recreational ability was not developed yet, still it was apparent that a conflict took place.

"I reckon there was a fight here," Tamara said with a sting of concern in her voice while searching the corridor before getting to the room.

"Abduction, your father fought back. Apparently, he even used some help," Roger concluded, standing at the center of the room with torn parts of smaller bots. It was hard to know which part belonged to which. The young lady squatted beside a turned table, attempting to lift it as a dried liquid caught her attention. Roger stood behind her. Tamara winced at the sight of the blood.

"Something's happened to him," Tamara said.

"Don't worry, I believe he is still functional otherwise they would have left his body here," Roger said, coldly walking past Tamara. Roger pulled himself away from the wall towards the other desk. He sat on the chair while his eyes beamed scanners throughout the files, some even accumulated on each other. There were reports, daily reports on the development of an experiment, the implantation of the chip. There were also pictures from Bob's youth, pictures that each contained a shady figure standing nearby. There was no doubt that Isaac and Bob's work was not only monitored by Owinson's technology, but by the ideology of the secret group that sat atop the hierarchy of both Red Tech and the city. Tamara had picked up a file from the desk's ridge before she sat with her back facing the wall; her hands plunged deep into the pages while she read the report on the possible effects, the sharp dark ones, on the chip's carrier. She would glance at Roger. The last page contained the picture of that rabbit, that one rabbit which was controlled by the chip's algorithm rather than its own instincts. There was a last note at the bottom of the page, written by Isaac himself.

"After months of research, I have always been compiling a set of reports on how dangerous this experiment can be. We were right to warn the organization, but dead wrong when we yielded to their requests. Connecting the neural interface to a human mind through the plantation is as dangerous as a tumor on the brain, only this one doesn't only rob the user of her health. For animals, they have lost their self of instinct because the chip attempted to introduce rational thought to the poor soul. For human beings, they will lose their sense of humanity, their ability to perceive the world other than it may seem to be, other than what was presented to them through analysis and designed methods. Bob wants to withdraw from the project all together, to take his family away from Garlem--"

"Oh dad…" Tamara whispered, her eyes watering.

"--But I genuinely believe that my next model, my last model, if carefully used, will give its bearer the ability to retain free will and choose regardless of whatever the chip urged him or her to do or to be. I just hope that I get to make the right decision of who should inherit this ability. Isaac Garaldson, March 2033," the last note said before the ending dot. Tamara started to link the facts all together with Roger's current state and his descent into something less than human while attempting to be more. It was not even his own choice, his response were just preferences of his own chip and not his own. Roger was a literal half bot, but none could realize it as no side of him took control of the other, which was the essence of what makes his own chip special. Tamara looked at him, either in pity or in fear, no one could really tell as the distortion in her face intensified. Roger put the files aside, as most of them spoke of the chip's development. The only one that was missing was Owinson's. Roger turned to the left to spot the one thing that pulled his true conscious off the virtual darkness of the chip, an emotional motivator.

The metal puppy's head was rolling on the floor between the tables, one of the eyes was turned off while the other kept blinking. Roger squatted, held the metal skull at the palm of his hand. This time, however, he was shaking and Tamara noticed it.

"This one's called Briggsby," she said, standing close to the young man. "Dad made him for me when he realized that I was allergenic to dogs. I used to play with him all the time, I didn't know he fixed him."

"This is all my fault," Roger said, collapsing on the chair before slumping on the floor and flipping the wooden thing in the process. He rolled on the floor; Tamara did not come to his help as she watched him sink in a repeating cycle of madness.

"How is it your fault?" She asked.

"I used the dog during a fight, I didn't know they'd be able to track your father with it. I should have known that those shady people during the fight pit were members of this… this… secret organization. Now they're going after him, they took him!" he said, raising the tone of his voice. When he had started to calm down, she roamed around the room for more evidence. There were papers and pamphlets hung on the walls, most of them containing pictures of vague people in a far background. There were other pictures of Theodor Brinkins, the old mayor and Lester Hubbins, a former Red Tech employee and whistle blower.

"I think you're wrong," Tamara said. Roger turned towards her, face all red and dark in depth. "It seems like my dad was the one tracking them. These pictures are somehow connected to the organization, he was looking for them. The question that remains is why."

Roger stretched his hand to hold unto the table's ridge, apparently touching a sticking device under the wooden thing. It was still glowing. Tamara and Roger surrounded it, watching its light striking and fading every few seconds. Roger moved a forefinger towards the device. In an instant, the trademark on Roger's chip was used as a code to activate the device's holographic footage. Roger stepped away, resting on the wall as if a stream of high voltage passed by his body. Tamara stepped closer, observing how the scratching image rested on the old man's image, Bob Polion himself.

"If this message is unlocked, it means that none other than you, Roger, came to find out why I suddenly disappeared," the holographic figure said, it was easy to notice how tired his eyes were. Tamara was not surprised; he had always pushed himself to a certain limit.

"The reason behind my disappearance is the group known as The Future Dictators. Your father and I have worked with them since Owinson started laying the first stones to this city. We were hooked into their vision. They believed that the world will run out of humans one day, that if we could link our consciousness to the machine, we can both live and govern a society of metal that was subject to the power of an unchanging algorithm. We'd liberate them from slavery by enslaving them ourselves. Maybe with time you'd understand why such a cause, something of this greatness convinced us of doing those surgeries, the vile things we did that you saw in that file. With time, and I know you probably heard this a lot, we left them because it was all a matter of control, a matter of the present and not the future. It was never about preserving human consciousness, leading the robotic society to a level of greatness, daringly surpassing the human race and keeping their legacy as the creators. They cared only about controlling current technology, Ah… how shallow!"

Bob sighed.

"Look, they found the puppy and they traced its source back to me. They started threatening to hurt my family, and thus I went after them. Only now I realized I can't stand toe to toe with them, and they'd eventually hurt Tamara and Cindy if I didn't agree to comply with their orders. With my dying brain, I think I can endure a bit of suffering. I will give myself to them as part of this deal, to preserve my family. Do not come looking for me, Roger, they are dangerous people. A darker future will come, that's for sure, but at least they won't meddle with you personally. Leave this city, go away, back to Florida maybe," Bob said, losing himself in the moment. The holographic image could not portray how watery his eyes were.

"Before I go, tell… tell Cindy and Tamara that I love them. You'd know when I die, so please tell them that. That girl, Tamara, I don't know if that's gonna make her love or hate me more. It sure hurts, that I spent all those years working and striking only to realize now it was a dirty trick all along. I don't even know if she'd understand. Maybe one day she will, she's a clever girl. I love you honey, I always will," Bob said, his eyes had met Tamara's. The young girl raised her hand, as if about to touch her father before the holographic image was sucked back into the device. Roger looked at the desperate Tamara, unaware of what should be done or said. The whole thing was bleak.

"We can't quit, we have to find him," Tamara said, catching her salty eyes.

"It's done, they've put something to disorient my tracking. He'd be dead by the time we find him," Roger said, careless of who was speaking, him or his chip.

"But we have to keep hope, we can't give up without at least trying!"

Roger sighed, noticing a glowing line, a line only he could see. He activated the visualization of the map again, spotting the other three locations where Bob had went.

"Tamara, we made a mistake. We came at the end of the line, not at the beginning. We thought he came to his workshop before he visited the other locations, but it was quite the opposite."

"Meaning? How is that supposed to help?"

"It means that he did progress in trying to find a way to break the organization before he gave himself up. We just need to follow the trail properly this time, if we get the organization, we'll get to him," Roger said, closing the map and sitting facing the desperate Tamara. He raised her chin.

"Listen to me, we will go find him and bring him back. If he's alive, and I know he is, he will spend his last days with his family. Either that or at least you'll be the one who gets to bury him, not them!" Roger said; there was sternness in his face. Tamara nodded as a tear fell off her face. She took a glimpse at the real Roger behind the black eyes, not his chip, not the algorithm, only him.

"Good," he said, "Now let's go find the old man!"