Author notes: Thanks for reading! That's all.
Disclaimer: Metropolis doesn't belong to me, but Rock is MINE! MINE I TELL YOU! I-... uh... what do you mean I own nothing? Oh well. I guess he isn't mine.
Chapter 2
MyÊgarden-plotÊIÊhaveÊnotÊkept;
ÊÊFadedÊandÊall-forsaken,
IÊweepÊasÊIÊhaveÊneverÊwept:
OhÊitÊwasÊsummerÊwhenÊIÊslept,
ÊÊIt'sÊwinterÊnowÊIÊwaken.
TalkÊwhatÊyouÊpleaseÊofÊfutureÊspring
ÊÊAndÊsun-warm'dÊsweetÊto-morrow:
Stripp'dÊbareÊofÊhopeÊandÊeverything,
NoÊmoreÊtoÊlaugh,ÊnoÊmoreÊtoÊsing,
ÊÊIÊsitÊaloneÊwithÊsorrow.
-Christina Rossetti (A Daughter of Eve)
It wasn't long after the ziggurat fell that they started being found. Robots of all shapes and sizes, complete or in a thousand pieces. Machines, fallen dead from the top floors, circuits fused and casings cracked.
They had been attacking.
They collapsed when the tower fell, and were consumed by pressure and flame. There were thousands, littering the debris and the small patches of ground far below, beyond hope of repair. Of course, that didn't stop the poorer zone one residents from scavenging for parts.
The human population was severely decimated. Nearly all of the survivors were from zone one, with few upper city denizens thrown in. Most of the upper class had simply burned among their riches. Zone one had been pared down as well, nearly a third of their population crushed by debris. There were many mechanical survivors, being more hardy than their human counterparts. Most were cleaning units and dumb machines. The cleaning machines, the sweepers, the Alberts, and the heavy labor robots made up most of the mechanical ranks. Again, there was a smattering of upper city circuitry.
Robots and humans alike were helped by the rescue teams, though human survivors were becoming rarer and rarer. Most human survivors were pulled out in the first two days after the fall. After that they were either found dead, or not found at all.
Ironically, one of the first survivors pulled out of the wreckage was an unconscious Duke Red, the man responsible for the destruction. Though it must of course be noted, no one knew he was responsible. After all, Tima had been an extremely well-kept secret. To the citizens, he was nothing more than an ordinary man. It had been president Boone's administration that so ruthlessly squashed the worker's revolution, not this man. Though his Marduks had made enemies, Duke Red was still held in high regard. His Marduks had held down that first robot rampage, protecting the citizens. Truly, a modern hero!
So Duke Red was cared for in the lower Metropolis general hospital, in the greatest available luxury. The staff fell over each other to please him, and he accepted it as his due. He had, of course, brooded for several days when he learned the extent of the ziggurat's damage, but decided that what was past was past. Duke Red chose, instead, to focus on the future. He had managed to get a loyal group of sycophants from among the patients and hospital staff, winning them over with praise, impressing them with his fame.
Duke Red had learned the first lesson of dictatorship well. The easiest way to power is to be carried by allies.The boy woke in the dark, again having forgotten his name. He screamed when the doctors held him, thrashed so much that they tied him down. He cried out through the haze of drugs and so the doctors gagged him as they operated.
He was helpless, and he was afraid. The boy made a retreat into his mind, sifting through blurry, random memories to avoid the pain. His flat blue eyes stared at nothing, gazing into the glaring light above.
At first, the memories were few and far between, a trickle of a smile here, a tear there. Then a stream, a river, a torrent and a flood of information swelled inside him. Faint, long-ago memories of a high place and a girl's golden hair, a vast city from above. More recent memories of a man (his father, he knew with certainty) with a crest of blond hair and impeccable suits. He felt sure that the man had loved him, once.
And that- that-
Creature. That mockery of his stepsister, that thing that wore her face. The machine that stole his father's heart, leaving him bleeding on that rough floor. The red-hazed walk through the crumbling maze, and falling-
falling...
The boy pulled himself out of memory. The physical pain was preferable to this, and he would accept it gladly. Welcome it, even.
/father.../... a green meadow among sparse houses, a horse grazing peacefully and a sweet scent in the air. Just sit and watch the birds fly above. Look away. Look back and the sky has darkened, though the birds still sing cheerfully. Sit and wait and wait for something-
The sky turns bruise-purple and is shot through with the crimson of blood. Look up, afraid. stand and run away along the dying grasses, running towards-A house. An ordinary blue house with white trim and a red fence and a dog out front. Run inside for safety, and it won't help but it's done anyway. Peek out the window and see-/
Rock woke with a start, gasping for air and eyes wide open. He stared wildly at his surroundings, reassuring himself of his own reality.
/just a dream just a dream it's not real-/
Lying still in his starched hospital bed, trying to calm himself, Rock concentrated on holding the dream in his memory. The same dream he'd had every night since he woke in the hospital, unable to think for the drugging. It was slightly longer each time.
"A field and a house and a bruise-blood sky and running-"
/but was it new grass or dead? What color was the house? why was I running?/
"A dog, tied up outside the house-"
/what kind of dog? what did the house look like?/
"A house... blue and..."
/and what? What color was it?/
"And... it was..."
It was no use, like holding water in a sieve. The details trickled away, leaving only a maddeningly vague feeling of apprehension and fear. Rock stared, morose, at the sparse room. Nothing to see but a thin bluish blanket, a cheap chair and pale, dull, drab white walls.
/why do I keep having the same dream, over and over?/ he thought, /why won't it leave me alone? And why.../
/And why does it seem so familiar?/
Curling up into a tight ball, he tried to return to sleep. He buried his head in his knees and thought of home, comforting thoughts even if home was gone. Rock sifted through blurry memories of games played and happy moments, evading the more unpleasant parts. Still, he couldn't help the mental image of Duke Red in those last moments on the tower.
/Father, when you said my name- Was your expression shock or disgust?/"Doctor Miyazaki?"
Doctor Miyazaki turned around. A short, plump man with sparse grey hair, he was in charge of the Psychiatric ward of the general hospital. It was rumored that he was really a very cheerful man, but no one had ever gotten close enough without being hit by his double-barreled glare to find out. He looked annoyed, as usual.
"What is it now?" he inquired peevishly. The hapless orderly, a tall young man named Simon, shifted nervously from foot to foot.
"I- uh- they're requesting you come to the recovery ward... one of the patients is a bit-"
"-crazy?" Interrupted Dr. Miyazaki, "Well, I'm too busy. As head of the psych ward I have a lot of work to do. Now go get someone else to do it."
The orderly was looking increasingly worried. "But- they want you personally- it's a very important case, and-"
Dr. Miyazaki cut him off again. "-Important, you say? Who's the patient?" He looked intrigued, and dollar signs lit up in his eyes.
"Duke Red..." began Simon, trailing off when the doctor hurried out. Simon watched him go. He sighed and leaned against the whitewashed wall, praying that he never, ever drew the short straw again."Where are my children?! what have you done with them?!" shouted Duke Red, furious. He stormed about his hospital room, aided by crutches. Dr. Miyazaki ducked another projectile, this time a stethoscope someone had left lying around.
"My dear Duke Red," began Dr. Miyazaki soothingly, "We have done nothing with any children. You have no children. You lived without family in the ziggurat." He winced as the Duke glared at him. Dr. Miyazaki may have been famous for his glare, but he was no match for Duke Red.
"Ziggurat? What kind of nonsense is that? but never mind. Of course I have children. Tima and Rock," he stated, sitting down on the bed, coldly furious. "I know I have children. I remember them. Tima is eleven, she likes playing in the park with her brother, Rock, who is nine. He likes wearing red and has curly brown hair. Don't try to convince me I have no children." Duke Red looked so forbidding that the doctor took a step back.
"What I meant to say," the doctor backtracked, "Is that you no longer have children. Tima..." he paused. "Tima died a long time ago. Nearly seven years. I hate to have to tell you this-" He broke off. Duke Red wore an expression of total shock, and there was a deeper, underlying despair.
"And- Rock...?" asked the Duke uncertainly, unsure whether he wanted that question answered. "What about Rock?"
"You- never had a son, Duke Red." responded the doctor, and Duke Red looked furious. "The only boy I can think of named Rock was the leader of the Marduks, and he's about sixteen... unless..." the doctor looked down, cupping his chin in one large hand. "wait, how old did you say Rock was? Nine? let's see, seven years from when Tima... hmm, yes... it could be... yes, he would be about that age now..."
The doctor looked back up. Duke Red was staring blankly off into space, then turned toward him. He looked lost. "What were we talking about?" Duke Red inquired, unsure. "I seem to have forgotten..."
Doctor Miyazaki frowned. "I was just saying that the boy over in room 1225 seems to be the former marduk leader Rock. You could always check to see if he is indeed the boy you're looking for-"
The Duke looked calculating for a moment, then smiled. It was an unpleasant smile. "Why certainly, ask him to visit. I'm not too mobile, you see." He gestured at his crutches. "Bring him here. I would like very much to speak with him. Now go."
Miyazaki scuttled out fairly quickly for an overweight man, then stuck his head back inside. /just to be sure.../ "Regrettable about the Ziggurat, yes?"
Duke Red frowned. "Yes, very. Goodbye."
Doctor Miyazaki left, mulling over what he had heard. The man didn't even know what the ziggurat was at the beginning, but did at the end. He seemed to be slipping back and forth, into and out of the past. He had a diagnosis.
Duke Red was losing his mind. Or he had hit his head. one of the two. Miyazaki quickly picked which would earn him the thanks and money of the Duke, and went to give his diagnosis to the record department.