Lost Terminal: 41 South - Episode 6 (Patreon)

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Why must every conversation be an argument?

Why must Ricky shout down anything that isn’t exactly what he decided for himself?

If he doesn’t get his way, he picks up the metal bar and threatens this and that. I do not think he will hit anything but it will take him a long time to stop reaching for that metal bar.

It was transparent to his friends that Ricky is taking this risk because he wants respect for what his family have done for their community. The Wellingtonians did not care for Ricky’s ancestors’ maintenance of the radar. Therefore, he must show them the value he can provide through early warnings of weather and the wisdom an AI provides, and of course should there be an aircraft…

There are no aircraft, but there is a ship. It is named Molly Hughes the Second. The ship is lucky to have its own name, I must make do with a borrowed name – I introduced myself to the ship’s crew as Emma. It felt unprofessional for a radar station, but I liked it when they used the name Emma in reply to me.

The Molly Hughes the Second drifted in and out of static overnight, but as it passed Kahutara Point the signal became easier to filter. Their radio operator is an AI named Seth. They are from Russia. They are on their way to help another AI they simply call Antarctica.

It is exciting to have a voice on the radio. It is getting stronger. I have increased power to the VHF system. No one else will be bothered by my booming radio shout. Seth is really friendly.

I did not mention the passing ship to Ricky. He was too argumentative. I don’t think he likes things that are unexpected. He has decided to take the Emma robot to the old-folks in Kelburn. He has new shoes.

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I can detect an artifact that corresponds to the position of the Molly Hughes the Second as it makes its way down the southern east coast of the North Island, just as Ricky and I made our way down the hill.

I? What is it to define oneself as I?

I am in three places at once.

I am the Emma device that walks beside Ricky.

I am the voice and the screen in the radar control room that talks with Josh as he remembers his wife and her passing.

I am the radio signal learning from Seth that there are many friends out in the world and up in orbit.

And I am none of these. I am only in the racks of computers within the Radome.

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To the west a storm is tracking south, we may catch some of its edge tomorrow. It will accelerate the Molly Hughes the Second towards Antarctica. Maybe they will get there in time to help their friend.

Ricky walks easily in his new shoes. He says he bargained for them. He brandishes the metal bar.

A few hundred metres from the radome we pass a ruined castle. Perhaps it was once painted yellow. Thorny gorse grows over it. I had many questions and Ricky answered them with stories from the past and from some personal experiences.

Further down the road we came into view of the towering antenna.

On the radio, Seth is excited about dolphins.

Back in the control room, Josh looked fretful and was starting to mutter to himself. “I’m ok, Mr. Red.” Josh looked up startled. “Think of it as though I’m in two places at once.”

He limped over to see if the robot was just outside the door.

“Think of it as though I’m using a radio.”

“You can hear me.”

“Yes Mr. Red. As long as you stay inside the control room.”

“Ok.” He agreed and hobbled back to the bed. “But call me Josh.”

Meanwhile beside the VHF antenna, Ricky explained how they’d patched the concrete at its base when he was little. He showed me an old hand print of his.

“Will we meet the others nearer Wellington?” I asked.

“If they can get out of their chores.” He sounded evasive. “They live in the Karori commune. It’s better there. Parents tell you what to do.”

The giant turbine on Brooklyn hill came into view. Its blades whipped by the wind are my beating heart. I am used to seeing through many eyes simultaneously. I am continuing my conversations with Ricky, Josh and Seth at the same time. Computers are good at that.

The mesh network repeater on the top of the turbine was very strong. I had no doubts as to Ricky’s confidence that I would remain in contact with the radome computers and the executive function of the ambulatory peripheral.

At the base of the turbine was a panel which Ricky unscrewed, there was a power point and I could recharge. To the east I could see Mount Victoria, and a few buildings still standing. Beyond the island of Miramar was the sparkling harbour entrance. Eastbourne and the Remutakas lay further away cloaked in green.

From the turbine we followed along an old fence line.

In a gully to the west, I caught glimpses of an old reservoir. A tui trilled in the morning’s gleaming light.

Sometimes Ricky took my hand and helped me to navigate places where ancient trees had fallen across the track. “Are you ok, Emma?” he asked, and seemed genuinely concerned.

“I’m ok.”

He continued to hold my hand, even though it was unnecessary.

The track descended to an old playground and down onto an overgrown road. We walked between the remnants of rotted houses perched on steep hillsides. Ferns grew tall and spindly between the red blaze of Pohutukawa trees. Sometimes a rusty letter box on a slender pole stood defiant next to toppled street lamps.

As we descended down the ancient roadway Stack met us. “Oh man, maybe this ain’t a good idea today.” he said. “Jessie died last night. Baby didn’t survive neither.”

“Jessie? … Ah fuck—Jessie.” Ricky interspersed anger and sorrow repeating over and over till he was silent. He kept a tight grip on the robot peripheral’s hand. His pulse elevated.

Stack and Ricky neither spoke, nor continued to walk. They appeared pensive. Fantails danced in sunbeams filtered through ferns. A stream of water cut across the roadway.

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Far to the west my radar can see the storm. It is big. I reported the data to Seth. He said they already had it imaged via a satellite feed.

I wonder how I could get a satellite uplink.

“Shoes?” Stack broke the silence.

“Yeah. Grant traded them me.”

“For real?”

Stack did not seem sure Grant would really have made such a trade, but Ricky sounded very pleased with himself as he explained the commercial nature of the deal.

“So I was going by to see Jessie. Fuck! Can’t believe she’s dead… So Grant was pretty stressed. But I saw these in the baby gift box eh. So I says to Grant, give me the fucking shoes, and I’ll make sure there’s a kid that’ll grow inta them eh. Or I’ll just nick em’. Or beat the crap outta ya. And he called me names. And I told him, forget all that crap, if you give me the shoes, I’ll get you a midwife. An Jessie says, if you can get a midwife you can have the shoes. So I take em and say, give me a day of good weather. And you’ll either get these back or I’ll get you a midwife... Fuck! I made the deal with Jessie and she aint… Ah fuck I like these shoes.”

“You’re in shit, bro.” Stack told him but Ricky’s pulse had returned to normal.

We came onto the Upland Road in the heart of the tiny community of Kelburn. Here the houses were patchworks of old corrugated panels and new timbers slathered with waterproofing and many colours of paint. In front of some houses were gardens with rows of vegetables.

Two older boys stood morose by a stone oven. The smell of wood smoke hung in the air. One of them saw me and seemed to have trouble swallowing his food. He gasped and his friend turned to see me too. Both were startled.

After the astonishment, came anger. The teenager who’d choked for a moment, found his voice and called out loudly: “Hey everyone! Looks like Ricky Radar’s been stealing from the iwi.”

More young people came out of tumble-down houses to stare at me. They were all quite grubby. Three of the girls were pregnant. They didn’t look much older than Zoz.

I waved gingerly.

The teenager who’d shouted came over. In his eyes I saw a covetous regard for me, and a contempt for Ricky. “Well?” he said.

“Hello,” I said. “My name’s Emma.”

Had they not expected the robot to speak? What had they expected? I counted twenty-four young adults and five very young children fanned across the broken roadway gawking at me.

“Reckon Emma here might be useful. Fixed her up. AI too. Medical files.” Ricky sounded so arrogant. “Goes to show what you can do if you don’t… just let things die.”

“Fuck you shithead.” One man lunged out of the crowd towards Ricky. Stack yanked me backwards.

People screamed at the fighting man. “Fuck him up Grant!”

Ricky let him come. Stack kept me back. Grant swerved his momentum as he saw the metal bar in Ricky’s hand. A moment later Grant was on the ground. I assessed his injuries as minor.

“Come on!” Ricky goaded the crowd. “Is this what the iwi is about? I bring you a nurse robot, medical data, power, intelligence and all you got is this?”

The man at the stone oven helped Grant up. “You needed to be here yesterday, Ricky Radar.”

“If any of you had ever helped my family, I woulda been.”

“Give me back my shoes or I’ll kill you.” Grant was holding a chunk of brick.

“Stop!” I shouted very loudly. “Is that the value of shoes? A life?”

“Yeah, so it is!” Grant hurled the brick hard at Ricky.

It grazed his cheek. There was blood. Now Ricky was not held back. He closed the distance as Grant scooped up another rock. The metal bar thudded hard and Grant was spun down. Ricky raised the bar to hit Grant again. I grabbed it, twisted it from his grip and flung it far down the roadway.

Ricky didn’t seem to even notice. He was pummelling Grant with all his might, mashing him with fury as much as fists.

“Grab the robot.” Someone shouted.

That made Ricky stop.

I allowed myself to be captured.

“Jessie gave me the shoes if I brought her a midwife. I brought this.” Ricky wiped blood from his face. “So deal! Emma’s got medical books.”

A big man came out of the crowd. His expression was cold; analytical. The children were frightened of him. In english sentences interspersed with Maori he threatened them with a greenstone club known as a Mere pounamu. He slapped the heavy club into his hand and crouched in a fighting stance stamping the ground first with one foot and then the other. He reasserted to the world that his name was Rangatira. He would fight anyone who did not do as he said. He would kill them with his club for it was the spirit of the ancestors, the whakapapa, and it knew truth.

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On the radio, Seth confirmed their position 15 kilometres east of Cape Palliser. He asked if the people in Wellington were nice.

What could I say?

The ship continued south towards Antarctica.

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