Droids And Bots

Chapter 3

He held his left wrist toward her, embedded with his ID chip, but Nora waved a gloved hand at him. “No, thank you. It will be my honor. ”

Princewill Arthur looked about to protest but then let his hand fall. “I don’t suppose there’s any hope of having her done before the festival?”

Nora shut the Droid’s panel. “I don’t think that will be a problem. But without knowing what’s wrong with her—”

“I know, I know. ” He rocked back on his heels. “Just wishful thinking. ”

“How will I contact you when she’s ready?”

“Send a comm to the palace. Or will you be here again next weekend? I could stop by then. ”

“Oh, yes!” said Tim from the back of the booth. “We’re here every market day. You should come by again. That would be lovely. ”

Nora flinched. “You don’t need to—”

“It’ll be my pleasure. ” He dipped his head in polite farewell, simultaneously pulling the edges of the hood farther over his face. Nora returned the nod, knowing she should have stood and bowed, but not daring to test her balance a second time.

She waited until his shadow had disappeared from the tabletop before surveying the square. The Princewill’s presence among the harried crowd seemed to have gone unnoticed. Nora let her muscles relax.

Tim rolled to her side, clasping her metal grippers over her chest. “Princewill Arthur! Check my fan, I think I’m overheating. ”

Nora bent over and picked up her replacement foot, dusting it off on her cargo pants. She checked the plating, glad that she hadn’t dented it.

“Can you imagine jany’s expression when she hears about this?” said Tim.

“I can imagine a lot of high-pitched squealing. ” Nora allowed one more wary scan of the crowd before the first tickle of giddiness stirred inside her. She couldn’t wait to tell jany. The Princewill himself! An abrupt laugh escaped her. It was uncanny. It was unbelievable. It was—

“Oh, dear. ”

Nora’s smile fell. “What?”

Tim pointed at her forehead with a pronged finger. “You have a grease splotch. ”

Nora jerked back and scrubbed at her brow. “You’re kidding. ”

“I’m sure he hardly noticed. ”

Nora dropped her hand. “What does it matter? Come on, help me put this on before any other royalty stops by. ” She propped her ankle on the opposite knee and began connecting the color-coordinated wires, wondering if the Princewill had been fooled.

“Fits like a glove, doesn’t it?” Tim said, holding a handful of screws while Nora twisted them into the predrilled holes.

“It’s very nice, Tim, thank you. I just hope droid doesn’t notice. She’d murder me if she knew I’d spent 700 avits on a foot. ” She tightened the last screw and stretched out her leg, rolling her ankle forward, back, wiggling the toes. It was a little stiff, and the nerve sensors would need a few days to harmonize with the updated wiring, but at least she wouldn’t have to limp around off-kilter anymore.

“It’s perfect,” she said, pulling on her boot. She spotted her old foot held in Tim’s pincers. “You can throw that piece of junk awa—”

A scream filled Nora’s ears. She flinched, the sound peaking in her audio interface, and turned toward it. The market silenced. The children, who had switched to a game of hide-and-seek among the clustered booths, crept out from their hiding spots.

The scream had come from the baker, Redcap. Baffled, Nora stood and climbed on top of her chair to peer over the crowd. She spotted Sach in her booth, behind the glass case of sweet breads and pork buns, gawking at her outstretched hands.

Nora clamped a hand over her nose at the same moment realization skittered through the rest of the square.

“The Cursed!” someone yelled. “She has the Cursed!”

The street filled with panic. Mothers scooped up their children, masking their faces with desperate hands as they scrambled to get away from sach’s booth. Shopkeepers slammed shut their rolling doors.

Ramy screamed and rushed toward his mother, but she held her hands out to him. No, no, stay back. A neighboring shopkeeper grabbed the boy, tucking the child under his arm as he ran. sach yelled something after him, but the words were lost in the uproar.

Nora’s stomach churned. They couldn’t run or Tim would be trampled in the chaos. Holding her breath, she reached for the cord at the booth’s corner and yanked the metal door down its rail. Darkness cloaked them but for a single shard of daylight along the ground. The heat rose up from the concrete floor, stifling in the cramped space.

“Nora?” said Tim, worry in her robotic voice. She brightened her sensor, washing the booth in blue light.

“Don’t worry,” Nora said, hopping down from the chair and grabbing the grease-covered rag from the table. The screams were already fading, transforming the booth into its own empty universe. “She’s all the way across the square. We’re fine here. ” But she slipped back toward the wall of shelves anyway, crouched down and covered her nose and mouth with the rag.

There they waited, Nora breathing as shallowly as possible, until they heard the sirens of the emergency hovers come and take sach away.

The howls of another engine rumbled into the square. The market’s silence was split by feet thumping on the pavement and then someone spouting commands. Someone else’s guttural response.

Slinging her messenger bag across her back, Nora crept across the dusty floor of her booth and pushed past the tablecloth that draped her work desk. She slipped her fingers into the gap of light beneath the door and inched it open. Pressing her cheek to the warm, gritty pavement, she was able to make out three sets of yellow boots across the square. An emergency crew. She peeled the door open farther and watched the men—all wearing gas masks—as they doused the interior of the booth with liquid from a yellow can. Even across the square, Nora wrinkled her nose at the stench.

“What’s happening?” Tim asked from behind her.

“They’re going to burn garry’s booth. ” Nora’s eyes swept along the square, noting the pristine white hover planted near the corner. Other than the three men, the square was abandoned. Rolling onto her back, Nora peered up into Tim’s sensor, still glowing faintly in the dark. “We’ll leave when the flames start, when they’re distracted. ”

“Are we in trouble?”

“No. I just can’t be bothered with another trip to the quarantine centre today. ”

One of the men spouted an order, followed by shuffling feet. Nora turned her head and squinted through the gap. A flame was thrown into the booth. The smell of gasoline was soon met with that of burned toast. The men stood back, their uniforms silhouetted against the growing flames.

Reaching up, Nora grabbed Princewill Arthur’s Droid around its neck and pulled it down beside her. Tucking it under one arm, she slid the door open enough to crawl through, keeping her eyes on the men’s backs. Tim followed, scooting against the next booth as Nora lowered the door. They darted along the storefronts—most left wide open during the mass exodus—and turned into the first skinny alley between shops. Black smoke blotted the sky above them. Seconds later, a hoard of news hovers buzzed over the buildings on their way to the market square.

Nora slowed when they’d put enough distance between them and the market, emerging from the maze of alleys. The sun had passed overhead and was descending behind the skyscrapers to the west. The air sweated with August heat, but an occasional warm breeze was funneled between the buildings, picking up whirlwinds of garbage from the gutters. Four blocks from the market, signs of life appeared again on the streets—pedestrians pooling on the sidewalks and gossiping about the Cursed outbreak in the city main square. Onlinescreens implanted into building walls showed live feeds of fire and smoke in downtown New Ireland and panicked headlines in which the toll of infected mounted by the second—even though only one person had been confirmed sick so far as Nora could tell.