Draft 1.24
Golem Project In Progress
It was a different experience, freely moving around the city, being in the lead this time, knowing where he was going. Wessel felt none of the fear and trepidation he had when following Ethany to the golem fighting ring. He didn’t second-guess himself, even if the place he was heading was a little sketchy.
This was his plan. He was in control.
Of course, that didn’t stop him from fidgeting as he walked, occasionally glancing at Ethany and the two golems to ensure he wasn’t alone. He’d never been to this place without his dad standing beside him, white knight golem at the ready. This time it was up to him.
The all-purpose tech shop was only a few moderately-crowded city blocks away. Boards were plastered over the windows, and Wessel didn’t know if that was from the previous day’s storm or if the windows had just been broken and not replaced. It was that kind of building. Painted white concrete that was peeling in places marked the walls, with words painted over the door. Large, stenciled text said, “Pinyan Tech and Stuff.” The open/closed sign on the splintery wooden door was missing.
“You’ve been here before?” Ethany asked.
“Two times,” Wessel said.
“Are you sure they’re open?”
He wasn’t sure. But this was Plan A. He’d see it through until he succeeded, or until it was impossible to continue.
Wessel turned the knob and pushed on the door. It opened, shuddering at the contact. The early morning light leaked through the doorframe and the boarded windows, casting pale sunbeams on the rows of shelves.
The shelves were toppled. Plastic circuit boards and wire coils lay in the floor, some trampled or broken. A damaged golem with four legs and thick arms, draped in wire cables, lay against the back wall. Its armor was dented, and sparks were spilling out from a joint. The shop owner lay in the middle of an isle, half-buried under a fallen shelf of projection bulbs.
It took two frozen seconds of painful silence before Wessel could bring himself to breath. “M-Mr. Pinyan!” he blurted out, taking a halting step forward. Then another. A wire coil trapped his foot, tripping him up.
A fall. Glass from a broken bulb cutting his right hand. Pushing himself up, half-walking and half-crawling to the grumpy, stocky shopkeeper’s side.
Wessel started to place his right index and middle fingers against the man’s neck, then balked at the drops of blood falling from them. He moved to use his left hand.
“Wessel,” Aizi said. A large metal hand landed on his shoulder. “I am equipped with medical capabilities. Please, move aside.”
Wessel took in a shaky breath and stood, grabbing onto a shelf as he stepped aside.
“Dang,” Ethany said. “He alright?”
Is he alive? She was asking.
“He does not appear to be seriously injured,” Aizi said. “The method by which he was rendered unconscious in unknown to me. I will staunch the bleeding, then attempt to wake him.”
“I think he will be,” Wessel said, for Ethany’s benefit.
“Dang,” she said again. “Twenty-four hours without power and the whole town going straight to pot.”
“Wessel,” Aizi said, “To wake this man without a supply of herbs and medicines, it would be best to have a small cup of water. It would be best for—”
“I’ll get it,” Wessel said, inching through the messy store for the bathrooms.
‘Pinyan Tech and Stuff’ was never a clean place. Wessel had balked at the greasy oil smell each time he came by, had witnessed several for-sale or broken parts leaning against shelves, and once saw a cockroach skittering up a corner wall. But today the place was trashed.
What was the point of all this? Thievery, like with Wessel’s room? Or just wanton violence?
Wessel stopped on the way back from the back, a cup of water in his hand. Something caught his eye. One of the tipped shelves. Was that… a handmark? The shelves were made of metal, but one of the shelves that had fallen on the others had been gripped and twisted like it was craft paper. The twisted section of metal was large, too large to match any human hand.
“You got some water for him? Good idea,” Ethany said. She was kneeling next to Mr. Pinyan, hand on his forehead.
“Uh, r-right.” Wessel knelt as well.
Aizi had moved the shelves, freeing Mr. Pinyan, and she had the man’s feet propped up just a little. He was showing signs of stirring, even now.
“Jake?” he asked.
“Mr. Pinyan,” Wessel said. “I-I brought you some water?”
Blinking his eyes, the man sat up. “I must’ve napped for a second or two, there. When did—” He looked at Wessel. “Do I know you? Did my son find you?”
“I have been here to shop before, but nobody found us. We just came here.”
Mr. Pinyan’s face squelched up, and he looked down at Wessel’s hand. “You’re bleeding, boy.”
“So are you, sir.”
With one ginger hand, Mr. Pinyan lightly touched his temple. A small trickle of blood ran down the side of his face. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he said. Placing the same hand firmly on the floor, he began to stand.
“Whoa, hold on!” Ethany said.
At the same time, Aizi spoke to Wessel, “It is not good for someone who might have a head injury to stand so quickly.”
Wessel stood next to Mr. Pinyan, easing him back down. “You might have been hurt,” he said. “Maybe you should stay down a while longer.”
With a scowl, Mr. Pinyan sat back down with a thump. “I ain’t got a head injury. Darn kids tellin’ me what to do.” He looked up. “Your golem here got them shelves off me, neh? Thanks for that at least.”
Wessel nodded. “We wouldn’t just leave you there.”
That got a grunt of response from the man. “Well. Think you could stay here till my son gets back, maybe help pick up some? If you’re lookin’ to help, anyway. Place is all busted.”
Aizi moved to help without being asked.
“Sure mister, we can do that,” Ethany said. “Think you could answer some questions?” She eyed Wessel, trying to get him to pick up on it.
Right, our mission.
“What kind of questions,” Mr. Pinyan asked. “I charge for tech consultations, well, usually.”
“What did this?” Wessel asked.
“Hm. That. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, neh? Besides, you didn’t come here to ask me that, didja?”
“No. But still.” Wessel looked over at the damaged shelves. “Who did it?”
“Some teen brats and their golems.”
“Uh,” Ethany said, pausing as she picked up some glass pieces to drop in a cardboard box. “Golems can’t hurt people.”
“Tell that to the guy who got electro-shocked by one and then had some shelves knocked on him.”
Ethany frowned, and Wessel could tell she didn’t buy it.
“I’m a tech expert, girl. It’s as weird as it sounds. Ne’er seen golems that can do anything to hurt somebody, but it is what it is.”
“When did they come here?” Wessel asked.
“Well, I been nappin’ since. Body ain’t what it used to be.” Mr. Pinyan arched his back, popping it. “But, it was still dark outside then, if that gives you any idea. I been here all night, and some hooligans stop by in the wee hours of the morning. I think they cleaned out my shop, getting some generators and houseplants.”
“Was there a girl with a ponytail?” Wessel asked.
“Was there?” Mr. Pinyan mused. He frowned. “Friend of yours?”
“I’m looking for her,” Wessel said. “We thought she might come here.”
“Yeah, there was one girl. Round your age, off-center hair. It’s her golem that knocked these over.”
Lillian. The revelation took Wessel out of the conversation. His vision blurred, the shop and man merging into one big mess.
Breaking the first law.
Do no harm.
The law of robotics, one that Aizi could circumvent thanks to Wessel’s modifications. Thanks to his removal of the barriers. And now.
I did this.
It was his fault that Mr. Pinyan had been attacked. His fault that the store had been wrecked. His fault that there were people out there now with golems that could hurt people.
He’d been too trusting, too naïve, and had created something that could break the rules to better the world. It had entered the wrong hands, but that was maybe always going to happen.
I did this. I never should have created that program. This is my fault.
“Our fault,” Aizi said. “You do not bear this burden alone, Wessel. I am a being of intellect, and I created this with you. Lillian is at fault, for she stole it. Whoever else is with her, they did this.”
“I’ll find her,” Wessel whispered.
“Whoa, now, my son went to find one of the on-duty cops. You got a golem, but these folk are breaking even the golem laws. Ain’t no need for you to take this on yourself.”
Wessel shook his head. Before he could say anything, there was a call from the door.
“What you doin’ here, Wessel?”
Wessel knew who it was before he looked. The thick accent, the whistled S’s. Jakob.
The broad, snaggletoothed boy stood in the doorway, ‘power’ golem to his left. “Get away from my dad, neh? He already got it rough without—”
“Excuse me.”
A uniformed officer stepped through the door, bright blue six-armed golem behind him. Jakob slipped aside, scowling.
Ethany, Wessel noticed, was already sidling away. She slipped out the door as soon as the cop had moved, and Wessel followed after her.
“Hold up, kid. Did you have anything to do with this mess?”
“No, officer, they’re just passers-by,” Mr. Pinyan answered, before Wessel could. “They came in and helped pick me up a bit.”
Wessel slipped outside, Aizi with him. “Where are you going?” he asked Ethany. “We still don’t have any leads.”
“I ain’t staying in there with that cop. Gives me the willies.”
“This is more important than the willies,” Wessel said. When she didn’t respond, he frowned. “Fine. I’ll ask him myself.” He turned to head back in, but an arm caught him by the collar.
“You din’t answer me, Weezy,” Jakob snarled. “What are—”
Aizi’s arm snaked between the two of them and pushed them apart. Jakob nearly fell back, but his power golem caught him. He sputtered and turned red, shoving himself back on his feet.
“I am sorry,” Wessel said, “you were asking me a question?”
Jakob’s scowl was almost comical. “I asked what you’s doing in my dad’s shop. You have anything to do with taking them power cores? Cause I remember you wanted one.”
“I—”
“And your golem is movin’ pretty good, all thin’s considered.” Jakob crossed his arms. “I oughta let that officer know.”
Ethany scoffed. “We helped your dad out, idiot. Why didn’t you?”
“My dad, he said, he told me,” Jakob swallowed, his beet-red face taking a moment to recollect. “He said to go get help when those punk kids showed up. He wasn’t on the floor when I left, he wasn’t.”
“One of them was Lillian, right?” Wessel asked.
“Who? Your friend from the inkin’ exam?”
“Yes, her.”
“Yeah.” Jakob ran a sleeve past his nose. “I’mma find her, and her friends, and I’ll get my golem to beat up all theirs. Ain’t nobody messin with us Pinyans like that.”
“We’re looking for her too,” Wessel said. “Do you know where she is?”
“Naw,” Jakob said. “But if she been shopping here before, I can find the records, see if she got an address.”
“Do that,” Ethany said. “We’ll come with you.”
“I ain’t takin’ orders, and I don’t need backup,” Jakob said. “It’s a family thing. We Pinyan’s use our golems and protect ourselves.”
“It is my thing, too,” Wessel said. “She took something from me.”
Jakob looked past Wessel, at Aizi, then back to him. “She did, huh? Yer computer, from yesterday?”
Wessel nodded.
“Ain’t that something?” After a few moments of indecisive frowning, Jakob shrugged. “Fine, you can come. Just don’t get in my way.” He turned and headed back into the store, Golem trailing behind.
Kyle Adams 