Cultwick: The Sweeper Bot Plague (12 page)

Chrome City was very much a mining town. It started as a small settlement with one chromite mine, but it had flourished into a sprawling city with series of mines and establishments throughout it. The entire city was in a manmade valley, surrounded and protected by tall cliffs. Several steep pathways allowed passage to the city, but none could be described as safe.

The city was dark, dirty, and its citizens were either poor or enslaved by the mining companies from Cultwick City. It was no wonder that the confederacy was born within Chrome City’s walls. They looked for the Arcadia Saloon that Abraham had indicated the day earlier and soon found their target.

The two-story building was lined with large white letters spelling out ‘ARCADIA.’ The wood was painted a dark blue and the windows were clean, clear, and welcoming.
Inside the saloon were several illuminated bulbs and the patrons were busying themselves with the dancers, games of dice, and their beverages.

Tern stopped the vehicle outside the saloon and Erynn
moved up front to join him. She sorted through punch cards in the automaton's back and eventually selected one. She pulled out the current card and slid in the new one, pulling the lever on his back to reboot him.

The automaton made a series of beeping sounds, but the lights behind his eyes soon faded, and he fell forward hitting the dash of the vehicle. Erynn balled up her fist and hit the side of his head, causing him to sit upright and continue making sputtering noises.

When the process finished, Erynn pointed to the bounty hunter and told Tern, "Watch him. Don't let him go anywhere."

“Affirmative, debugger,”
he replied.

Erynn, Rowland, Pearl and Germ all went inside the
Arcadia. The room was very crowded and quite loud from all the commotion of the saloon.

"Why don't you all take a seat and I'll see if I can find out where this guy is," Erynn instructed to the others. They obliged her
, and she went to talk to the barkeep.

"
How can I help you?" he asked cheerily.

"I’m
looking for Hirim," she explained.

The bartender’s disposition quickly soured.
"There's no one here by that name,” he responded. “If you want something to drink, hurry up and order or get out."

Erynn frowned and furrowed her brow before saying,
"His brother, Abraham, said I could find him here."

The bartender grew more upset and said,
"Well, I don't know anyone named--"

"And what is my brother doing sending people to my bar for?"
a man inquired appearing from a back room.

He had thin, short, gray hair underneath a worn, old bowler hat. Covering half of his face and proceeding down his neck
and all the way to the fingers on his left hand was a complex, mechanical device. He wore a tan shirt with brown pants and shoes and limped awkwardly toward Erynn.

She
pulled the letter out of her pocket and handed it over to the man. He took it and opened it, finding the note and a ring inside. His eyes mulled over the ring for a moment before he stuck it in the breast pocket of his shirt. He then unfolded the note and carefully read it.

When he finished reading
, he said, "Alright, come on."

He turned and indicated for
her to follow him. The man led her into a back room away from the noise of the saloon. There was a thick rounded table, several maps pinned to the walls, and a cooling unit in the corner.

"So, Miss Clover," he began. "You want to join the Chromework Confederacy?"

"Uh, yes, I do," she answered.

"Out of desperation?" he inquired. "I can imagine a heretic on the run doesn't have a whole lot of options."

"No," she replied. "Cultwick is doing terrible things. Someone has to stand up to them, or they'll just continue to enslave this world."

"So, are you after revenge?" he asked. "Cause that won't work for me. I don't need someone blinded by rage. Can't work with 'em."

"It's not about revenge," she clarified. "I want justice. I want there to be a sense of equality. Of freedom and protection. I want there to be a balance in the world."

“Justice, huh?” he replied. “What do you know about justice?”

“I spent a lot of my childhood in the slums of Cultwick City,” she began. “And I’ve spent the last couple decades outside of them. I’ve seen the inequality of people’s lives based on the money, connections, or beliefs they have. I think everyone deserves an equal chance to live their lives.”

"
I would have to agree," the man said. "Unless it wasn’t obvious, I'm Hirim. I'm the man responsible for the confederacy in Chrome City.”

“You’re the leader of the rebellion?” she asked.

Shaking his head, Hirim answered, “No, our leader isn’t here. He’s concerned with uniting all the other towns together. We can certainly use more bodies in our fight against the Cultwick Empire, but what we really need are funds and resources. Don't suppose you can help us in that department, eh?"

"Afraid not," she responded.
 "We didn't have a whole lot of time to gather much up before we fled Cultwick City."

"Yeah, figured as much
,” he replied. “So what kind of skills do you have?"

"I worked as a
chromesmith back in the city,” she explained.

“We can always use more chromesmithing,” he replied. “What about the others you brought with you?”

“Max was a professor of gene transcription,” she said.

“A biojunker?” Hirim asked.

Erynn nodded and answered, “Yeah, but he’s not overly fond of that term.”

“We’ll definitely have use for that,” Hirim explained. “The confederacy has been losing members hand over fist to the plague. Anything he can do to combat that will be appreciated. What else?”

“Germ was our butler,” she continued, “and Pearl was a dance hall girl until yesterday, and she’s a painter… though I doubt you find that very helpful."

"Hmm, is that it?" he asked.

"Oh," she said remembering. "I've also got a custom built automaton I left outside guarding our... uh, prisoner, I guess."

"You have a prisoner?"
Hirim inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Sort of
,” she replied. “We were attacked by a bounty hunter yesterday. I didn't know what else to do with him."

"You catch his name?" Hirim inquired.

"I think he said it was Vincent."

"Vincent Rourke?" he asked looking both surprised and intrigued.

Erynn nodded and said, "That sounds right, yeah."

Hirim smiled quite widely and added, "Oh, I can work with that. Take me to him."

Erynn led Hirim outside his bar to where Tern still guarded Vincent in the halftrack. The bounty hunter had woken and was struggling to untie himself from his bonds.

Hirim stared at the man in the back of the vehicle and simply stated, “Vincent.”

This caused the bounty hunter to stop and gawk at Hirim for a moment before saying, “Burgan?”

“You got any law after you?” Hirim asked.

Confused, Vincent slowly answered, “No... Least none that I’m aware of.”

“You in touch with Bennie these days?” Hirim continued to prod.

“Hazelwood? I haven’t seen him in years,” Vincent said.

“But he taught you all his tricks, right?” the rebel leader asked.

Growing frustrated by the series of questions, the bounty hunter raised his voice and said, “I suppose so, what are--”

“You’re familiar with Ash Cloud, right?” Hirim inquired.

Irritated the bounty hunter asked, “Look! You think you could show your dice faster than one at a time?”

Hirim smiled and responded, “I want you to help rob a bank
, Vincent.”

Chapter 12. Rowland the Gambler

Three sixes. Two ones. Rowland found himself with a very good roll of dice playing in the biggest casino in Ash Cloud, the Weighted Die, against one of the worst gamblers in town. It almost seemed beneath him to ruin the man so thoroughly and easily.

The man he concerned himself with be
sting was the manager of the government owned, controlled, and operated bank - Ash Cloud’s Bank of Cultwick. They expected he could, if properly incentivized, be able to give them some information on the bank and its security systems.

Their plan involved breaking him financially before finally loani
ng him money from a ‘loan shark.’ Their very own bounty hunter, Vincent Rourke, played the part. Vincent had agreed to help the Chromework Confederacy, not out of any sense of goodwill, but because the plague he found himself infected with and the expense of its treatment.

Hirim had known Vincent from a while back, and as Rowland and Erynn had found out several days earlier, Vincent was well versed in the art of robbing banks. Bennie Hazelwood, a notable bank robber, had taught the bounty hunter most if not all of his techniques for
absconding with a vault’s funds. The rebellion needed financing and the government’s own money seemed a perfect place to raise those funds.

In
addition, it seemed several prominent Cultwick Empire party members were working or staying in Ash Cloud. Each of them had a safe deposit box at the bank, and that had intrigued the rebellion greatly.

One of the leading scientists
employed by the Center of Empirical Research was working in the city on an undisclosed project. The professor had suggested that the man’s scientific mind might have rivaled his own. They decided that he was certain to have something of interest hidden in his box.

There was also an empire-owned munitions factory working on some new design. The owner of that building had
opened a safe deposit box with the bank, and the rebellion hoped it would be a clue as to what was happening in that factory. If they were working on a powerful new weapon, the rebellion would prefer to know about it sooner and find any flaws it might have.

Lastly,
there was a box belonging to the postal master in town. While his was unlikely to hold any shocking government secrets, he might have a record of shipments coming and going to the empire from the various western cities.

Seated a
t the Weighted Die table were five players. To the left of Rowland was the bank manager - Benedict Boothe. Next to him sat a wealthy and attractive woman. Vincent was beside her as the loan shark. Finally, sitting to the right of the professor was a dark, curly-haired gentlemen with small framed spectacles.

The man with spectacles was
the first better this round. “Three twos,” he said and started the bidding.

Rowland peered under his cup to look at his dice once more, and then said, “Three threes.”

Benedict eyed the professor carefully before upping the bet to, “Four threes.”

The woman increased the bet further, “Four fours.”

Rowland took this moment to move his mug of beer over to his left hand side and turning the handle of the cup to a specific point, which was a signal to Vincent to raise the stakes up to sixes.

Vincent complied, “Five sixes.”

The man with spectacles took a moment and begrudgingly continued, “Six sixes.”

The professor then quickly upped it again, “Seven sixes.”

Benedict decided that it had gone too far, “I challenge, sir!” He revealed his hand, which consisted of three threes and two twos.

The woman revealed hers next, showing one six, two fours, one three and one two. Vincent showed one five, two threes, and two twos. The man with the spectacles showed one six, two fives, and two threes.

Rowland finally revealed his three sixes and two ones, making the total number of sixes at exactly seven when wild ones were added to the count. As he pulled the cup off his dice, the professor commented to the bank worker, “Better luck next time.”

The professor pulled in his winnings, and Benedict eyed the coins despondently. They all rolled their next hands under the cups and continued with the next round.

“Three twos,” the professor began.

“Four twos,” the bank manager continued.

“Five fours,” the woman said tilting her head to the side a small amount. The man with spectacles raised one eyebrow and the bank manager scratched his chin. Rowland took a drink and eyed Vincent.

“Challenge,” the bounty hunter simply said and revealed a hand without any fours or ones.

Around the table, more hands were similarly shown, with only a total of three fours having been rolled. Vincent pulled in his winnings and prepared to continue, but Rowland stood up from his chair.

“You
will have to excuse me for a round,” he said.

The bounty hunter
gave the professor a strange look, but Rowland didn’t stick around for him to say anything. From inside his gauntlet a cold pain had crept up his hand and into his arm. He stepped just outside the casino, where he began pilfering through his pocket. He pulled out a syringe of biojunk that he had concocted and injected it straight into his arm. The cold sensation dissipated quickly, replaced with a spreading fuzziness throughout his whole body.

Rowland returned to the table and waited for the next hand to continue. The woman had won the round he missed, and they all prepared to roll the next one.

Benedict started this round, “Two twos.”

The woman added, “Four fours.”

“Four fives,” Vincent said next.

The man with spectacles said, “Six fives.”

“Hmm,” the professor began studying the expressions on his opponents’ faces. “I say that’s exactly right.”

The group showed their dice
. Rowland revealed zero fives, the bank manager one, the woman two, Vincent had zero, and the man with spectacles showing two more. Rowland again pulled in his winnings.

“B
ah,” Benedict said aloud. “That seems to be it for me. You appear to have stolen all my funds for the evening.”

He began to stand up when Vincent stopped him and said, “Hold on now, buddy. I got a proposition for you.”

“Oh?” Benedict asked remaining seated. “And what is that?”

“I’ll spot you enough coins to continue playing
,” he began. “But anything you make from here on is half mine.”

“That seems pretty steep, mister.”

“I’m giving you a chance to make your money back, that’s all,” Vincent said smiling.

“
Yeah and what if I lose?” Benedict asked.

“Well,
” the bounty hunter said, eyeing him piercingly, “then you’ll owe me. Obviously.”

“Hmm,” the bank manager pondered to himself for a moment. Rowland saw him eye the coins on the table greedily before finally answering. “Alright, mister. You
’ve got yourself an arrangement.”

The game
continued as before with the man with spectacles winning the next hand, followed by the woman. Both losses causing Benedict to squirm as the dice were revealed. Two more hands, one victory to Vincent and another to the woman. Rowland eyed Benedict, as he once again had run out of coins, and he looked nervously up at Vincent.

“I’ll spot you one more time,” the bounty hunter said generously.

The next hand went to Rowland, followed by Vincent in the next round. The professor was then able to win two in a row, and Benedict slammed his fist against the table, shaking the coins and dice.

“I really have to stop now,” he exclaimed.

“Perhaps you are right,” Rowland told him. “This clearly is not your game. Perhaps you would like to go outside and play hopscotch with the schoolgirls instead.”

“Fine. One more,” he held up a finger to Vincent asking for more funding.

Vincent nodded graciously and threw him some more coins. The next several hands were particularly good for Rowland. He managed to win all four, each time the bank manager calling him out with a challenge and each time being wrong.

Rowland stood after making these winnings and told the others, “I think that
is enough for me. It was an extreme pleasure.” He nodded to them all and headed out of the casino. As he left, he saw Vincent smile viciously to the bank manager, causing Benedict to take a large gulp.

The professor waited outside in an alleyway
, until Vincent came outside with the bank manager in tow.

“I promise you, mister, I’ll find a way to pay you back,” Benedict said.

Vincent pointed over to the alleyway where the professor waited. “Maybe you can pay me back right now, partner,” the bounty hunter said.

Rowland moved further into the alley and the bank manager reluctantly walked over to where the professor had been.
Surrounded on both sides by the men, Benedict began to noticeably shake.

“How do you mean I can pay you back?” he asked.

“You are the manager of Ash Cloud’s Bank of Cultwick, Benedict Boothe, correct?” Rowland questioned him.

“Uh...
yeah,” the man answered warily.

“Well, Mr. Boothe
,” Rowland declared. “We are interested in knowing everything about that bank.”

“I can’t tell you anything
,” Benedict stated. “Cultwick owns the bank. If anything were to happen to it, who knows what they would do to me.”

“They’re really not your biggest concern right now, friend,” Vincent added.

Rowland took off his spectacles and carefully cleaned each of the many lenses with his shirttail, letting the man anticipate what would come next. The professor continued, “If you do not want my associate to begin hurting you in what I can only assume would be a myriad of unpleasant ways, you will change your mind and decide it best to acquiesce whatever requests we make of you. Tell us about the vault security.”

“You don’t understand. They’ll kill me just for talking to you!” the man warned them.

The professor nodded to Vincent, and the bounty hunter pulled out a long serrated knife from his belt. He held it where Benedict could clearly see it and allowed the moonlight to gleam off the sharp metal.

“
I assure you. You do not want my acquaintance to give you more reason to assist us, good sir,” the professor stated. “Now, if you just tell us what we need to know, you will be free to go. The vault.”

The bank manager took one more look at the blade, perspiring quite heavily
, and began to speak, “The vault, right. The vault is behind two locked doors. Very technically and mechanically advanced, but they also have a biometric scanner. It will only open to the registered bank employees.”

“What about the first door?” the professor asked. “Tell us about that.”

“Right, it opens up to the safe deposit boxes,” he explained. “If you have access to a box, you can get an employee to open it for you.”

“The second door?” Rowland inquired.

Still giving occasional glances to the sharp knife Benedict continued, “That’s where you need an employee’s genes. But it also requires a six-digit pin number that changes every three hours.”

The professor pulled out a small glass tube and a needle. He
pricked the man’s finger, letting it bleed and dripped it into the vial.

“How do you know what this number is?” Rowland asked.

The bank manager slowly slid a hand into his pocket and carefully pulled out a small mechanical contraption. It looked similar to a flip clock, but in miniaturized form. It showed six numbers and ticked as Benedict handed it to the professor.

“This,” he explained.

“It will give us the code?” Rowland asked.

“Yes...
the numbers change every few hours.”

“What other kinds of security does your system have?” Vincent asked. “Some sort of red button that your cashiers press when someone with masks comes charging in?”

“Yes,” Benedict answered. “If someone presses a button under the counter, it will alert local authorities. Also, it will close and seal both vault doors.”

“You have any armed men stationed in or around the bank?” asked Vincent.

“There are two uniformed men inside the bank,” the manager said.

“We
will also need three safe deposit box numbers,” Rowland explained.

“It’s not like I have them all memorized,” Benedict answered frantically.

“But a man like you surely keeps a ledger of this information at home, yes?” Rowland asked.

Benedict slit his eyes over to
the professor and then quickly looked away again.

“That
is a yes, then.” Turning his attention to Vincent the professor continued, “Let us take Mr. Boothe here home, shall we?”

Despite the darkness of the evening, the town of Ash Cloud was still brightly lit with wires that stretched from building to building with illuminated bulbs. Of all the towns they had visited thus far in the west, Rowland noted that Ash Cloud was by far the most advanced and progressive. The other cities were largely ramshackle buildings raised near important resources, but Ash Cloud seemed to be an earnest attempt at building a civilized town. It was nowhere near the marvel of Cultwick City, but in time, he thought, it could rival it.