Machines of Eden Read Online Free PDF Page A

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grunt, brushed the moist earth off his hands, and straightened up. Through a
break in the trees he could see the hill. He was much closer. The
ground should start rising soon. He took a step forward.
    A twig snapped somewhere in the trees . He froze. There was no movement
from the jungle. His eyes raked the foliage.
    He smelled it before he saw
it, a mix of silicone, hot electrics, and plastic. A shape moved
behind some palm fronds, and then it lurched from the jungle three
meters away and paused, analyzing. The ASKALON-9 was obsolete these
days, but you still saw them in the backwaters and sinks, and it
enjoyed a reputation as a dependable service bot. The 9’s were
androids, humanoid in shape and size and designed to interact with
humans.
    This one was a
mess. It hadn’t been cleaned or serviced
in a long time; moss and mud-stains covered its carapace, and he
noticed exposed wiring at the joints where the rubber seals had
torn away. Its sensory apparatus, located on the bulbous head, was
damaged; one optical bulb was smashed and its antennae were snapped
off half their length.
    He raised his hand to hail
it in the standard greeting, smiling for the benefit of whoever was
monitoring its cams.
    The ASKALON did not
respond.
    John felt a frisson of unease. Standard programming was either
erased, or malfunctioning. Neither option inspired
confidence.
    The ASKALON remained
motionless, coolant vents softly whirring, staring at him. He
hailed it again, more slowly, passing his hand clearly in front of
its remaining optical sensor.
    No response.
    He forced himself to
breathe calmly and focused on slowing his heart rate. It was
difficult. The pre-war ASKALON units had been harmless enough, but
the war changed everything and it was amazing what a techie with
some nasty hardware and a blowtorch could add to even the most
mundane bots. The ASKALON units weren’t originally designed to
kill, but they more than capable of doing so when programmed that
way. Most machines were , and there was a
chance this one was preparing to kill him .
    Sweat trickled down his
back as he studied it. There was no way to tell what it would do.
It seemed stuck in analysis mode, and he hoped its sensory damage
had limited or even disabled its logic centers. This one had no
overt weapons systems, but there could be some concealed under the
carapace, and even when unarmed the ASKALON-9’s were incredibly strong .
    Gnats whined in his ears.
One bit dangerously close to his eardrum, and despite himself he
flinched.
    The ASKALON charged, arms
outstretched.
    John ran. There was nothing else to do; he had nothing in his
hands and no time to find anything. He plunged into the jungle,
leaping over fallen trees and bursting through nets of creepers.
The maintenance track along the fence provided a clearer escape
route, but he knew he couldn’t outrun the bot on the
straightaway.
    The high rasp of Sergeant
Wiley echoed in his head: Duck and dodge,
and you can beat the bots. Sprint in the open, and you’re dead.
It’s that simple.
    And it was that simple.
They said the day would come when bots could do anything a human
could do and then some. Bots far outclassed humans in speed and
strength, no question. Flesh and neurons couldn’t beat steel and
motherboards. But humans still had a few edges; superior agility
and the ability to anticipate enabled a human to navigate an
obstacle course faster than any bot ever
made. B efore any
were developed that could outdo humans in agility
and intuition, manufacturing had ground to
a halt . The war
took care of that.
    John’s lungs were on fire. Behind him came the whine of servos and
gears. The 9’s were much lighter than their predecessors, but still
weighed close to a hundred kilos, and he chose the most dense and difficult terrain to enhance his advantage. He was jumping like a gazelle over
a fallen tangle of branches when he realized the sounds of pursuit
had stopped, and he risked a glance over his shoulder. The bot