Capítulo 147: Vol. III Chapter 22 “A true company man.”
Chapter 22 "A true company man."
Two days later, he headed south. Suzette told him not to go. She'd outright refused to tell Bill, having already turned him down. Most of the scavenging had taken place close to the tower. Along with the rejuvenated low cost housing to the south.
Even now as he walked by the deserted buildings, he saw so much potential. Bricks, piping, wiring. Floor tiles, roof slates, sinks, bathtubs. All of it perfectly salvageable.
The breeze picked up into a wind outside of the ruins. Rolling across the empty space and mounds of rubble. He'd been following the twisted and cracked roads most of the day. He knew he had to be close, but couldn't see anything but trees and rubble.
"Not much of an outdoorsman are we." Mr. House appeared walking beside him.
"Says the shut in." He shot back.
"The difference is I have everything I need, because I think ahead." Mr. House grinned and he almost swung for him.
"The difference is I actually give a shit about other people." He tried to focus on what mattered most.
"Since when?" Mr. House yelled behind him as he walked in the opposite direction.
The trees gave way to a vaguely straight line. A strip of concrete not yet fully claimed by the encroaching forest. Soon husks of cars dotted the road. It grew wider, and before long he saw it. A drab, long, rectangular building. A folding steel door painted with Robco Industries sign.
"You know there was a time I'd have paid a small fortune to watch this place burn." Virgil felt excitement at seeing the building still standing. This had been a most grating irritation to him in the world that was. An immovable reminder of the old man. It seemed positively benign now.
"I would have rebuilt it twice as big." Mr. House responded, grinning at the barely profitable factory.
Virgil made his way round the back. He heaved a dumpster under the fire escape and climbed to the roof. "So it's common thievery is it." Mr. House chimed in as Virgil worked a crowbar into the door jamb.
"I'm just getting started." The door creaked, and a forceful shoulder charge burst it open. "Besides, it's not like you need any of this stuff." He clicked on his torch, and headed down the stairs.
"How do you know?" Mr. House questioned him as he walked the darkened hallway.
"What?!" Virgil snapped, startled in the dark.
"How do you know that I no longer require what is mine?" Mr. House continued. "How do you know that this very facility is not an integral part of my plans?" Virgil ignored the egomaniacal ranting.
He found the head office and kicked the door open. Behind a wooden desk, a skeleton glared at him. The top of the skull had a jagged edged hole. A nickel plated ten mil pistol on the stained carpet. "He died at work." Skeletons weren't uncommon, but this one drew a pang of empathy. Especially when he saw the well stocked bar trolley.
"A true company man, working till the end." Mr. House sounded proud of his long dead employee. "Unlike some." Mr. House sneered as Virgil drank from a bottle. He offered Mr. House the bottle, just to see the look of disgust.
Virgil pulled the chair round and extended the wire from his prosthetic. The fusion cell within his arm powered the terminal. The encryption brought a smile to his ravaged face as it crumbled in seconds.
He had access to everything. Inventory, shipping, customer address. Even backups of the core operating systems for each model of bot. He dumped the data on to the memory drive in his arm, gathered the bottles and pistol, then headed downstairs.
The instant he stepped on the factory floor, he became transported to the world that was. Workers attached limbs to bots on the assembly line. Arc welders sparked. Presses thumped up and down. Then his mind drifted and everything vanished. Life and noise replaced with stillness and deathly quiet.
The layout looked identical to a hundred other Robco Industries factories he'd been in. Although this had been retrofitted for the war effort. He realised what the last act of the skeleton had been. Locking down the secure section of the factory. Anything that even looked mean locked away behind foot thick blast doors. With real encryption this time.
Still, there were enough civilian model bots to be useful, most of them still in parts. He made one final stop, finding Bill's locker and taking the photographs from inside the door.
By now the sun had risen and the way back became a good deal easier. The sun set by the time he reached the tower. Most of the work had stopped for the day. The handful of bars were busy. Lights shining from the residential windows.
Virgil paused outside the door, still feeling he should knock. He went in, seeing Suzette working at her desk, as expected. He slumped into the battered armchair by the window and waited. "You made it back then." She didn't look up from her papers.
"It was worth it." He saw that was a poor answer as she glared at him.
"It was worth risking your life for junk?! If half of the shit I've heard is true…" She looked away, staring out across the wastes. "It's not like it was, there's people out there now. Lunatics who'd kill you for fun. Ignorant bigots that'd shoot you on sight. Not to mention whoever's out there looking for the great Burt…" She stopped herself before saying his old name.
"I'm sorry." He could see she'd been worried. The overflowing ashtray and crossed out mistakes gave it away. "I have a plan, it'll mean going back out there, with more people."
"Were you not listening?!" Suzette slammed her palms on the desk as she stood. "I have to keep them safe!" She yelled, then fell back into her chair. Her wrought nerves had loosened her tongue. Virgil poured her an extra large brandy from the bottles he'd brought back. He'd have made the journey just to see her smile in that moment. "They survived the end of the world. I'm not getting them killed because they trusted me."
His own conscience weighed heavy with the lives he'd destroyed. With his part in fuelling the ruinous war machine that burnt the world. He'd spare her even a fraction of that if he could.
"Tell her Burton." Mr. House stood at the window. "Tell her what I taught you."
"When I was working for the old man he taught me one thing above all. Empires require sacrifice." He saw a sneering grin in the reflection. "He's an egomaniac and a weapons grade prick. But he's not wrong. If we want to build something that lasts, we need to be prepared for risk."
"He sounds like a monster." Suzette reached out and took his hand.
"He is." Virgil answered, as Mr. House turned from the window.
"To whom are you referring, Burton Blake?" His fractured psyche lashed out.
"Is?" Suzette asked with a smile. "You really think he's still around?"
"He is. People like him, like me, we'll do whatever it takes to get what we want." He waited for the cutting remark, none came.
"That doesn't sound like the man I know." Suzette's faith in him, in who he could be, made him believe it too.
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