Chart your own course

[Cri86]

°°°°° Chapter 16 °°°°°

The stairwell was drenched, and the three humans treaded on it cautiously. As he watched them struggle not to lose their foothold, the Reject BRL-A could not help thinking that Probe Five would have slipped at least ten times already and slid down on her bottom, if she had also been walking. How fortunate that EVE probes could hover a good many spans above the ground level.

When she had tumbled against that trash heap, he had shielded her from the ensuing avalanche only a moment before disaster. An accident that might have happened to anyone, he had told himself. But somehow he had got the feeling that such accidents were nothing out ordinary, for her.

On their way to the Axiom he had observed her curiously. She was both totally like her sisters and totally unlike them -  scatter-brained, accident prone, and every bit as clumsy as they made them. A clumsy EVE probe – who would have thought? BRL-A had always believed them to be just as many cookie-cutter clones of EVE, but Probe Five rather made him think of a timid young REM-E.

She was left behind all the time, he had noticed. Not because she couldn’t keep up with her sisters - but rather because every once in a while, she would notice something that caught her fancy. And when she did, she forgot everything else. Self-preservation, too. When she had circled around the wreck of an oiler which the settlers had turned into a greenhouse, BRL-A had rushed to shepherd her away from the thing’s old crane magnet. And only a few minutes later he’d had to drag her off a gaping manhole, in which she would have obviously wanted to descend for investigating the water level.

Sometimes, when she got distracted, the strong gusts of rainy wind would push her back a long way, and BRL-A had to catch her in his canopy before she was swept too far. A few times he had even prevented her from bumping against a ramp, a scaffold or a jib. When they had reached the Axiom, she had tripped over a parapet before he could catch her, knocking two of her sisters over. Looking after her was exactly like trying to look after a mercury droplet.

It surprised him that she had managed to stay clear of the Repair Ward for so long. Back in the old days, it was nearly inevitable that the slightest malfunctioning would land you there. How much time you spent in a cubicle, or if you were ever going to come out of those glass doors again, pretty often depended on the glitch itself. Generally, the more advanced the unit was, the most challenging the diagnostic would be. It went without saying that most of the Rejects had lived in seclusion a great many years. But how that mercury droplet – Probe Five, who had all of her sisters looks and none of their dexterity, who was not the best flyer, who could not stay focused – never suffered lasting damages during her missions, or how the Autopilot had never found her to be defective, the Reject BRL-A could not tell. Perhaps she had just been very lucky.

With a hissing noise, the automated doors slid inward, and the Captain led the way in the deserted lounge. The EVE probes followed readily; only two of them stayed behind. One was EVE, who was taking WALL-E in her arms and seemed quite glad to postpone the moment in which she would cross the Axiom’s treshold, twenty years after she had darted out of it. The other was Probe Five. She lingered on the doorway a minute or two after EVE had gone in, turning to cast a doubtful look at the three BRL-As who stood like sentinels in the thick rain.

Instinctively, her eyes had sought out the Reject’s red and yellow repair boot. She would have wanted to say something; most of all, she would have wanted to say thanks. It just did not feel right to leave like that, after the many times he had stood up for her.

EVE probes stood up for each other too – from them she’d have expected that. Generally, it made her feel even worse about her own clumsiness. But the Reject was not an EVE, and in those few miles he had stood by her even though he did not have any reason to do so. He could have ignored her, he ought to have ignored her – but ignored her he had not. How strange, she thought. How totally, utterly illogical.

And yet… could she simply thank him as she would have done with any other robot? He was no ordinary robot. He was a Reject. Back on the Axiom, it would have been impossible to come across him, or any of his denizens of the Repair Ward - unless one also started malfunctioning. True, Probe One seems to get along with his lot well, she reflected. But I? Stars, she was faulty enough on her own! The last thing she needed was to hang about with defectives. What next - how long before she, too, was given a repair boot like his own?

The word made her wince. Defective.

The repair boot was a tangible proof of his unhinged programming – that,  and the canopy which would not stay shut. But if she did not look at the former and ignored the latter, he was not so terribly different from the other two BRL-As. He could have easily passed for one of them, except that he was kinder and that there was something like sympathy in his red optic whenever he looked at her. Maybe that was what being defective was all about. And if so… she could have honestly thought of much worse.

Awkwardly, she waved at him with her fin and turned to leave. And because she was not looking ahead of her, but at him, she did not see the door frame and hit her head against it.

BRL-A’s eyescreen flickered. If he had had a decent eye display, he would have grimaced. How typical of Probe Five, he thought, opening his umbrella with a mix of compassion and amused exasperation.

No one else had noticed. The rest of the group had already moved on. The other two BRL-As were frolicking in the rain and probably would not have cared, anyway. When he hovered up the stairwell, they turned to stare at him with mild surprise. Where do you think you’re going? He could see the question in their optics as clearly as if they had voiced it.

With them. Someone must watch Five’s back, before she gets herself damaged.

Unsurprisingly, their only answer were two identical blank stares. Ironic how his thinking and theirs could not have been less attuned – after all, they did came from the very same production line. With a wincing shrug of his canopy, BRL-A disappeared in the Axiom. Five! Hey, mercury droplet, wait for me!


While her sisters swarmed after Ryan and Cale, EVE had scooped WALL-E up from the ground.

She was not looking at him. On their way to the docking area she had grown more and more taciturn, dreading that moment like the plague. Now the Axiom towered over them, and EVE felt that she needed to keep all her wits together if she did not want to break up when they would be swallowed in its depths. She did not have any strength left to look up.

But even without seeing her haunted eyes, WALL-E could tell that she was frightened, and that she would have liked to fly as far away from the grounded starliner as her anti-gravs could take her.

::Eeeevah?::

Fleetingly she glanced at him, blinked, and then averted her eyes once more. But she embraced him tighter, as if not wanting him to cross the ship’s threshold anywhere but in her arms.

Please, don’t leave me when we’ll be in the Axiom, she was thinking desperately. If I lost sight of you even for a minute… oh, darling, I can’t bear --

::Di…rect…ive:: he whispered against her eyescreen. Eeeevah, but don’t you see that it’s me who can’t bear to be without you? It was almost as if he had read her mind.

In another moment, EVE would have chuckled; just when she thought that their devotion could not get any deeper, she was taken aback by the strength of her love for WALL-E – and of his for her. Not now, thought. Now she stared at him,  gaping in disbelief at the words that his eyes were telling her, the very same words  that she had so fervently prayed to hear. Neither the Axiom, nor anything in it or outside it, said his adoring eyes, will ever make me leave you.

Promise?, she wanted to ask.

Of course I promise. He bumped his optics against her head, with such tenderness that the smallest spark passed between them. And that little bit of comfort was enough – enough to give her the strength she needed to fly past the doorway, into the Axiom, holding WALL-E to her, for the second time in twenty years.


The first thing that struck McCrea was that the Axiom did not even look like the same ship anymore. He had expected to find it lifeless, of course – if the apathy that had once reigned therein could be called life. But he had not expected that it would be so dark, so silent and still.

Cale looked round him curiously. "So that’s it, uh? Doesn’t look at all like the few I recall of this old thing.”

“A graveyard” drawled Ryan.

“Yes, a graveyard” nodded the Captain, his eyes travelling over the thick layer of dust that seemed to cover every surface. “I had forgotten how huge it was. We’re directly below the Lido Deck, I think…”

“Quite a let-down for aunt Karen and old Thomas!” said Cale, and he laughed soundlessly. “I wonder what they’d say if they could see what has become of the boogey ship?” There was a hint of bitterness in his voice that did not go unnoticed. The Captain cleared his throat uneasily and turned to inspect the elevators so not to lead the angry young man on. Ryan raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. WALL-E glanced at Cale from over EVE’s shoulder and shook his head sadly. So much anger, he thought.

“Power’s off, so the lifts are out of business. Can’t we reactivate them separately from all the rest?” McCrea was asking to Ryan.

The roboticist shook his head. “Through the emergency generator, maybe. But that would take too long. Plus the reprogramming of the regenerative food buffet, and the actual driving the pods to the shelters? By the time we’re done, that tornado will have swept over the town big time.”

“There ought to be stairs somewhere, d’you reckon?”

“Probably. Hoverchairs were the height of the day when the Axiom was created, but people did get off them. Now and then.”

“I don’t remember any staircase. Never paid attention to it, I guess, even if I had had it under my nose” muttered McCrea, almost to himself. “Odd how we could live for so long in a place without knowing it at all.”

Cale looked up sharply. For the second time he seemed about to say something, but was cut off when the Captain continued:

“Well, my best bet is that they’re behind some service door or other.”

Cale’s brow furrowed. “A service door? Why?”

“Marketing.” McCrea smiled wryly. “Pretty much the only thing that Buy’n Large was good at. Why let some obsolete stairs get the spotlight? They wouldn’t get used often, I guess, even in the old times. Most people would just take the panoramic lifts any time.”

“Makes sense” nodded Ryan.

“Girls, I’ll need you to make some light” said McCrea to the EVE probes.

They fired out their scanners readily; only EVE did so with absentminded abandon. While her sisters scattered across the lounge, she stayed close to the Captain as though his presence alone could keep the ship from closing its jaws over them. She clung to WALL-E with such despair, such fear, that McCrea wished he hadn’t asked her to come along. It’s a lot more difficult for her than it is for me, he thought.

“It’ll be alright, EVE” he whispered.

::Directive:: she nodded, looking ahead of herself. But she had spoken with false ease, and the Captain just shook his head and let the subject fall, for what could he say?

Even he felt somewhat uneasy. Now that it was shut down like that, there was something sinister about the place. It was as if the Axiom had been watching them with hostile eyes. McCrea felt that if he had turned around, he would have caught its hateful stare on his back.

But then he thought, stare? How foolish, the ship couldn’t have been staring at him. It was not alive. The only living things in there were themselves – and… a dark thought caused his brows to come together. For a second, he was reminded of Auto.

It can’t be, thought Brian McCrea.


Scan the walls, thought Probe Five with some annoyance. That’s all we’re asked to do, scan the walls.

She didn’t care about a stupid wall. Walls were so plain and blah boring, with all the amazing things to scan the lounge for.

Before today, Probe Five had really only seen the Axiom from outside. She had never bothered to imagine what its interior might look like, and even if she had, she surely wouldn’t have imagined anything like that. She couldn’t believe that she had once actually lived there.

If she had been the sole mistress of her time, she would have liked to float up to the ceiling and look down. Who knew just how tall the lounge was? She couldn’t glimpse its ceiling, even if she tilted her head back all the way.

But she wasn’t the sole mistress of her time. And orders were orders; she had to find a door. Follow your directive, she tiredly chided herself, wishing that her directive wasn’t so terribly uninteresting.

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure that the Reject had not lost sight of her in the darkness. He hadn’t. Why did it feel so comforting to have him watch over her? It’s like he’s my guardian angel, she thought, remembering what she had once overheard an old human woman say.

When their stares met, and his optic flickered in greeting, she averted her eyes quickly. And doing so she did not see the tipped-up hoverchair, and would have toppled over it if he had not been quicker and caught her with his canopy.

Watch out, mercury droplet! BRL-A did not know whether to laugh or to shake his head. Don’t you ever look ahead of yourself?

Mortified, she trilled something that might have been an excuse. She couldn’t even bring herself to look up and see the angry – or, even worse, condescending – expression of his optic. Because surely he was mad, right?

Timidly she peeked at him. He did not seem angry. He was looking down at her with – what was that? Sympathy?

Nah, it’s alright, I get it that it’s not your fault if you’re clumsy. I was on to something when I nicknamed you mercury droplet, eh?

::Thanks:: she warbled uncertainly. You’re not so bad – for a Reject.

And you’re not so bad for a little walking disaster area on anti-gravs.

If he had had a speech synthesizer, BRL-A would have chuckled. He had guessed what she was thinking as clearly as if she had voiced it, something that he could generally only do with his fellow Rejects. Now his thinking was attuned to that of an accident-prone EVE probe – what next?

He noticed that her LED eyes had switched to laughing crescents. Presently she caught hold of herself and tried to look very serious, as if ashamed to have displayed her emotions for the world to see. ::Directive:: she warbled, pointing at her scanner beam. It was nice talking with you, but I’ve got work to do now. She sounded almost apologetic. Part of her wished that he would stay; part of her insisted that she did not really have reasons to cling to a Reject like that, although he was the first Reject she had ever got to know in her life.

He made no attempt to leave, though. He stood by her side like a shadow, as she ran her scanner over wall after wall. Occasionally he would open and close his umbrella, but for the most part she could swear that he was looking at her, thinking… what? Sometimes she got the distinct impression that their thoughts ran on parallel tracks, but sometimes she wondered, how could that be? I’m not a defective from the Repair Ward. We belong to different worlds. How can our thoughts be anything alike?

Another wall, another disappointment. Probe Five didn’t know what to do anymore; her movements grew more and more frantic. It wasn’t the BRL-A presence or his stare that unsettled her, but rather the thought of making a fool of herself in front of him. Was she funny? She tried to avoid his optic as much as possible, and yet she could have sworn that he was chuckling to himself.

She shut down her scanner, lifted her eyes to him and smiled uneasily. Look, this is just pointless. I’m sure that we won’t find any door. If anyone’s likely to find it, that’s my sisters. I can barely find the way back to my recharge station come the night. Maybe we should ask the Captain if he doesn’t happen to have another directive…

Don’t sell yourself short, mercury droplet, he would have wanted to reply. And may I suggest that you fire up that scanner of yours? It’s too dark to see where you’re go--No, not that way, Five‼

CLANG!

… too late, he sighed, as a metallic noise and a surprised warble interrupted the flow of his thoughts.

He had seen that coming. One couldn’t be around Probe Five without realizing that she was like a magnet to accidents. But he had not thought for a moment that it would happen so soon. While she fluttered around in the dark, she had ran straight into a wall that she couldn’t see and bounced onto the floor. Mercury droplet, are you okay?

Ouch… Drrreck, if it hurt!, she groaned, trying to get up. She noticed that several of her sisters had turned to look, and hung her head in shame. Now more than ever she wished she was invisible. She didn’t want to see the concern in her optics of the other probes, or in the binoculars of Probe One’s waste-allocator. And even less she wanted to see his optic looking solicitously at her. He’ll think I’m such a disaster – and how to blame him? I’m really a disaster.

The Captain strode over to them, his eyes wide. “Everything alright here?”

She warbled her assent unhappily. ::Directive:: Why I never do anything right?, she wondered, not without some bitterness. What’s wrong with me? She could still sense BRL-A’s presence, standing by her side, and once more she had the fleeting impression that he neither judged nor pitied her. In another moment, she might have been grateful.

“Way to scare me off, Five” complained McCrea. “I thought someone had -- oh!” Just as he was leaning to a wall, a secret sliding door they had not seen swung inward with a grinding noise. McCrea staggered, and would have fallen for sure had the Reject BRL-A and Probe Five not instantly grabbed him. “What the hell…? Ryan, come over here and tell me how this thing’s still working with power off!”

The roboticist made his way across the dark lounge, muttering a word of apology whenever he bumped against an EVE probe. He knelt to inspect the door’s foothold, and after a minute Probe Five thought she had seen his shoulders twitch, as if he was laughing silently.

“So?” asked McCrea’s voice.

“So this thing’s got a weight-and-motion detector, and you set it off by leaning against it” said Ryan, in an half-amused and half-apologetic voice.

McCrea said nothing for what seemed like an eternity. Then he calmly asked Ryan if he thought he was being funny, and the roboticist replied that he had the right to remain silent, and everyone laughed except for BRL-A, who couldn’t laugh even if he had wanted to, and Cale, who thought he had caught a movement with the corner of his eye and turned to cast an inquiring glance over his shoulder.

The door gave in a narrow corridor with rooms attached. Like the rest of the ship, it was dark. But when the EVE ships ventured ahead, running their scanners in all directions, the corridor itself seemed to emanate a faint blue glow. And it was to the light of that glow that McCrea read a sign that said maintenance only.

“Good, at least this means there’s got to be some stairs on the other side. C’mon, let’s get going.”

The robots wandered ahead, with Ryan’s sloppy footfalls echoing in the corridor. But Cale seemed to have remained behind, noticed the Captain, shaking his head.

“Cale!” he called, as if to say, how long do we have to wait for you?

Reluctantly, Cale headed to the sliding door. On the threshold he turned and let his eyes sweep once more across the lounge. He wished that one of the probes had stayed - then he might have asked her to direct some light toward the glass-panel window.

Cale did not share his aunt’s prejudices about the Axiom. Not at all. But he couldn’t deny that he had felt he was being watched ever since they set foot aboard, and then he had looked up sharply and seen a sudden movement at the window. A movement so quick that he might as well have dreamed it, if he wasn’t so absolutely certain that he had not.

We’re alone, he told himself. The Axiom’s been sealed off all these years. There’s no one else aboard, except for us.

“Cale Hawkins!” yelled McCrea across the corridor.

“Alright, alright!” he replied with a groan. He strolled after the others, but threw a last doubtful glance behind his back as he did so. It wasn’t until he was perhaps halfway across the maintenance corridor, and no longer visible from the lounge, that he no longer felt those cold, unforgiving eyes were looking at him with hatred.


The humans had gone in. Good.

They had not seemed directive-driven as they wandered across the lounge, and there was something uncoordinated about their actions that made them look like Stewards who were experiencing difficulties. Also they had the tendency to move in group, just like Stewards.

They had not scattered, as might have been expected of them. After they had crossed the Axiom’s bridge, it was as though an invisible strength had kept them together. Did they simply feel like they weren’t welcome anymore – or was it rather guilt?

Guilt for abandoning a ship that could have still carried out its duty, and done so well, like it was an obsolete piece of machinery. The thought was so infuriating that it surprised even the robot observing them. It was infuriating because the negligence – the indifference – hadn’t been deliberate. Quite simply, the Axiom had ceased to exist for the humans the very moment they had set foot down to Earth. And why should they have cared? They had their precious junkyard of a planet.

Did they even think about that past, while they treaded the polished floor? Did they think that the Axiom had seen to them, cared to them, watched after them for the entirety of their miserable lives? The lounge wasn’t illuminated, and only their movements seemed to suggest that they had looked around. But with what expression they had done so, it was impossible to say.

What could be expected that wasn’t the usual lack of interest, though? That realization of their carelessness would slap them across the face? As if!

Their presence aboard was disconcerting. That they did not mean to reactivate the Autopilot, BRIDGET could tell because in order to do so they’d have had to go straight to the generators and then to the Bridge, not scamper off into the maintenance area like a squad of BURN-Es.

So they did not come all this way for him, she thought, frowning. But then what might they possibly want on the Axiom? It did not compute.

Confused, she hovered high above the lounge’s windows, from where she could watch their moves without coming into their visual field. It had been close, though – when the young human had turned around and his shining eyes had pierced the darkness, BRIDGET’s CPU had nearly overclocked, thinking that he might have noticed her. Luckily, he seemed to think that his optics must be malfunctioning, although she could tell from the way he had stood on the doorway that he was perturbed.

If she hadn’t been so preoccupied figuring out what had taken them on the ship, his uneasiness would have cheered up a little. And it would have made her bitterly triumphant – a little. Not so bold as when you walked past the entrance doors, are you not, human?

During those twenty years, she had despised them quietly from afar. It wasn’t until earlier, until she had heard the hateful words of the human woman and seen the hypocrite look on the Captain’s face, that something in BRIDGET had flared up strongly and vehemently. She didn’t know what to call it, she just knew that it was there in her programming, in her circuits, and it felt and burned like venom whenever she set her blue LED eyes on the shapes fumbling within the lounge.

Something that made her wish to stand up against the injustice of it all.

Ever since the humans had walked in the Axiom, BRIDGET’s troubleshooting subroutine had gone all red-alert. As if they represented a nuisance to the Axiom’s chosen course, although now that it was stranded and forgotten, it no longer had a course of its own. She would look at Cale, at Ryan, at McCrea, but it was her that she heard. I wish that we had dismantled it right after landing.

We shall see, she thought, narrowing her eyes. We shall see about that.


In Shelter Three, while the storm raged outside, and everyone waited for news of the group that had set off to the Axiom, a little child was sniffling quietly to himself.

Although Russell’s sobs had calmed down, he still felt forlorn and miserable, and had dragged his weary toddler legs to the other side of the shelter, as far away from his mother as possible. He couldn’t bear the thought of being near her right now.

She never left him do anything. He could sob and bawl until he turned purple in the face, but what for? He knew that when she said no she actually did mean it. As far as he could look back on his life, it had always been “no this” and “no that”.

Not like cousin Al, who was a grown-up and always had his way.

In the past, Russell had admired his cousin for the way he always put up with his games and encouraged him to play with robots. Now he would have only wanted to kick him. Why it must always be him?, he thought, the anger boiling in his three-years-old’s body again. You named one funny thing, and it was sure ten-to-one that Cale had done it. He had gone camping with his friends, he had a hoverbike to cart his butt around, he hung around with all the coolest robots of New Chicago. He was a better swimmer, a faster runner, he could eat what he wanted and wear what he wanted. Whenever people asked Russell what he wanted to become when he grew up, he used to answer “cousin Al”, as if to say, I want to be just like my cousin.

Well, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to be like that big meanie anymore! Grown-ups are nasty and unfair!

Scowling, he let his eyes wander for the shelter. He was mad with the entire world, even with the robots, for no other reason than because they weren’t the “Fwyte botties” that he would have wanted so badly to be with. His mother, he noticed, had fallen to sleep, although Russell remembered that she had slept for some time already before the Captain’s announcement. I’m upset, and she sleeps!, he thought unhappily. Mary stood at her side, and Mary was his mother’s friend.

Suddenly, a flash of pure spite passed in the kid’s brown eyes.

I could kick her, though, he pondered. Or pull her hair a bit. After all, she hadn’t stood up for him when his mother had been mean. So she couldn’t complain if he now played some prank on her for retaliation… could she?

And then, suddenly, a woman next to Russell moved, interrupting the flow of his thoughts. She was in her late fifties, with a long face and hair like ash. She came up flush to an emergency door and stuck her head out, then closed the door again. “Brrr! Filthy weather!” she said through her teeth, turning to leave. “Wouldn’t be one bit surprised if we got hail on top of rain.”

She paid no attention to the toddler, but Russell had looked up at her with interest. Most importantly, he had seen her open the door and then shut it, leaving it slightly ajar.

Quickly he ran his eyes around. Had anyone noticed that the woman hadn’t closed the door perfectly? Everyone seemed to be talking in animated tones about the evacuation. The man named Thomas had got to the head of a small crowd who seemed to be agreeing with him a lot. Mary, next to Karen, watched them with a concerned expression and shook her head every now and then.

None of the robots were sufficiently close to see him, or seemed to be looking his way.

The cogs and wheels in Russell’s brain were working fervently. He knew that he had to be quick; soon or later, someone would eventually realize that the door wasn’t sealed. And Russell never got to elude his mother’s surveillance for long.

Crawling on all fours so as not to draw attention upon himself, he reached the door, pushed it slightly aside and sneaked out. The rain swept him like a tidal wave, but he actually liked playing in the rain. He made sure to put the door ajar just like he had found it, then scampered off happily into the tempest, and the roar of thunder covered the sound of his triumphant giggles.

I don’t care what mama says, he decided as he stumbled, got up to his feet again and wiped the mud off his eyes. I’m going to the Acciom, too.

[Cri86]

°°°°° Chapter 17 °°°°°

A good quarter of a hour after they had reached the Axiom’s recreational area, Ryan was still bent over the regenerative food buffet. He circled around it, checked the wiring, moved his lips soundlessly and sometimes shook his head like a wild horse, but because his long red hair had spilled over his face, McCrea and Cale couldn’t see with what expression he did so. They stood silently with their backs against the wall, waiting for his verdict.

At length he looked up. “It’ll take a while to reconnect” he said. “But it’ll do.”

“Alright, then we’re transporting it right away in one of the pods” nodded McCrea. “What about the reset? Can you see to it, Ryan?”

The roboticist shrugged. “I can’t do it here. It’s a simple operation, but I need to activate the machine before I caliber…”

“Ryan, I don’t care about the tech aspects! Just tell me plainly, can that thing be reprogrammed to produce normal food or not?”

“Yeah, no problems about that.”

Good. At least he’d not have had to deal with another horde of infuriated citizens like Karen and Thomas. “How long will it take to get it up and running?”

“Difficult to say. A hour, maybe two.” Ryan made a vague gesture with his hand. “Cale, I’ll need your help detaching the synthesizer from the main bulk.”

Cale was instantly at his side, eyeing the regenerative food buffet. “On it. Where do we begin from?”

They worked quietly for some minutes. The Captain had not offered to help them, which Cale found surprising, nor had he asked any other question, which was even more surprising. He watched them like a man who doesn’t see what’s in front of him, lost in his thoughts.

“Alright, when you’re finished take the synthesizer to the escape pods bay” he said unexpectedly. “I’ll catch up with you and the EVE probes there.”

Cale looked up. Even Ryan, who was generally known for keeping his thoughts to himself, raised a slender eyebrow.

“You’re not coming with us, sir?”

“Not right now. I have certain – things to see to here on the Axiom” replied McCrea. He seemed strangely reluctant, yet at one time compelled to follow the impulse that had overcome him. For a moment, he made Cale think of a man standing on the edge of a precipice looking down.

“Alright then” said Ryan with a quick nod, before Cale had the chance to interject. “See you later.”

The Captain returned the nod, hesitated a moment longer and walked off. From where they stood they could watch him let the recreational area behind himself and cross the Lido Deck.

“What’s the matter with him?” asked Cale, once McCrea was no longer within hearing range.

“Nerves” Ryan shrugged, turning to the cable that he was carefully disconnecting. “Can’t blame him. This place would give anyone the creeps.”

Cale looked at him sharply. “Don’t tell me you believe in those stupid prejudices of my aunt and that Thomas fellow? Look, it wasn’t the Axiom that started all our problems! Those begun well before its time, and it wasn’t the ship that kept us trapped but …”

“… but our own mentality, yeah” nodded Ryan, unperturbed.

“And you think I’m making excuses, don’t you?” asked Cale challengingly. It was as though all the bottled up raged had now escalated beyond his control; he could feel it rising like bile, could feel his blood boiling. “That I’m – how did she put it? – too young to remember what it di--”

“Not quite. I think you’re making a big fuss over nothing.”

That left Cale interdicted for a minute or two. Then he hissed: “So to you it’s nothing the way they’re making the Axiom a scapegoat?”

“Nah, simpler still” assured the roboticist. He was so completely uninterested, that for a moment Cale wondered whether he might not be doing it on purpose just to get on his nerves. He did not even look up, too busy unscrewing a bolt. “See, I agree with you about the Axiom, in general. But it wasn’t my point when I said that it gives the creeps.”
 
“And then what did you mean?” Cale raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re afraid of the dark or something?”

“It’s not the dark. Think…” there was a pause, then a muttered curse, as the bolt slipped off Ryan’s deft hands and rolled underneath a piece of machinery. “Think of the Axiom as one great battlefield. The Captain’s been in it all along, been in it ‘til his neck too – and so have EVE and WALL-E. I dare say she’s taking it even worse than the others. Well, anyway – now that they’ve returned to that same battlefield after so long, how d’you expect that they feel?”

It was the longest speech that Cale had ever heard Ryan make. But though his anger had not ebbed yet, he thought he could glimpse where the man was going. “So do you think…”

“It’s guilt, alright” replied Ryan. “Guilt of the survivor, they call it.”

“Why of the survivor?” Cale frowned. “I thought there hadn’t been causalities in the battle of the Axiom. I mean, aside from WALL-E” he hurried quickly.

The glance that Ryan threw him was almost pitiful. Almost. He wanted to say that Cale’s direct experience with the battle of the Axiom wasn’t sufficient to grasp what it meant to be in the same places where you had once fought, fought for your life, and that even he couldn’t see the memories of those dramatic moments flash before his eyes the same way EVE, WALL-E and McCrea did. But then he decided against it. Cale was too caught up with his own troubles, with the angst of coming to an age. And how to blame him? We’ve had it much easier when we were their age, thought Ryan with a shrug. He’ll understand on his own – in due time.


How many pods are there left?, Probe Five would have wanted to ask.

She watched as Probe Seven escorted her batch at the entrance, surveyed its parking and then flew over it in triumph. Watched, she felt it should have been, with happiness for her sister, not resentment. But all the same she couldn’t help being just the tiniest bit jealous.

Her scowl did not go unnoticed. Probe Seven, identical to her but for the deep violet eyes, came to a halt and floated closer.

It’s not really that exciting, Five, said her gentle eyes. ::Directive:: she added, shaking her head. It’s just programming work, routine… nothing special.

Probe Five sighed miserably. I know, I know. It’s just that… you’re so lucky to have something to do that isn’t being on stupid patrol.

She noticed that the Reject BRL-A was looking at her. Didn’t he have anything better to do than look at her all the time? Although she wasn’t very good at telling apart the emotions of a single red optic, there was something amused in his stare. And what are you laughing at?

What, don’t tell me that you’d rather get yourself damaged than stay in safety? She was the funniest thing.

Oh, shut it!, Probe Five wanted to groan. I know that I’m clumsy! But there’s still things that I can do right!

Such as?

I don’t know! Exasperated, she flung her head about. Something!

Maybe you shouldn’t start with programming life-pods, the Reject teased with his optic.

Oh, go to android hell!, she scoffed. Earlier she had tried to program a pod, feeling more confident than she had in a long time. I’m able to program one of those things, she had told herself. What could go wrong? But instead of following the coordinates that she typed, the little sucker had started trashing across the bay, completely out of control, and as if that wasn’t enough, in her desperate attempt to stop it she had  also activated the self-destruction module. It had taken the combined efforts of Probe One, Probe Ten and Probe Three to regain control of the lifepod, and after a quick consultation they had asked her to keep guard outside, so maybe the Reject was right. Probe Five, however, didn’t really want him to be right this time. She didn’t want to be reminded that she was a disaster, that she couldn’t fly straight, that she ran into things like a mercury droplet.

The two other BRL-As watched at some distance. They made her wish even more that she was invisible. To the Reject – her guardian angel – she had grown used, because he had a way of watching her that did not make her feel awkward, and because she sometimes had the fleeting impression that he understood her like nobody else.

But they had observed her with curiosity ever since she had floated out of the Axiom, and she knew perfectly well what they must be thinking. Why she’s not inside with the others?

::Directive?:: repeated Probe Seven helpfully. Can’t you look around for plants, while you wait?

Yes, because I’m likely to find one! Let’s be realistic--

She was still sulking when another batch of pods flew outside, this time escorted by EVE. She greeted Probe Five and Seven with a nod; both her arms were wrapped tightly around WALL-E.

::Yo-hoo!:: waved the waste-allocator.

The Repair Ward BRL-A opened and closed his umbrella cheerfully, as if he had not seen WALL-E in ages. Half a second later they were all completely doused and laughing.

Probe Five smacked his pole playfully. Look what you do, silly Reject!

You don’t get it. He’s our hero, mercury droplet! Our living legend! BRL-A’s optic was flickering faster and faster. And faster. It nearly made her dizzy to watch, so she turned to EVE instead. He’s nuts!, she chuckled, the expression in her eyes almost affectionate.

EVE giggled. Yeah, well, you’re telling me!

WALL-E, too, bobbed his head up and down, with a little droning sound that sounded like he was laughing. Probe Five glanced at him fleetingly, but not fleetingly enough. For an instant his optics and her yellow LED eyes locked, before she hurried to drop her gaze in shame.

She was terrified at the thought of looking him in the eyes, terrified of what she might feel. Because when she was around the waste-allocator, she never knew what to feel. He threw her in such a state of confusion that she didn’t know what to do or what to say, either.

He’s Probe One’s directive, she repeated to herself, as she did every time her eyes accidentally met his own. Her directive. But another voice in her mind wondered, as it did every time her eyes accidentally met his own.

What would have happened if he had run into Probe Two first? Or Probe Seven? Or Probe Ten? Or me? He could have fallen for one of us as badly as he fell for her? And we – could we have fallen for him? She did not like where this reasoning was leading her. She didn’t want to think that in another world, it might have been one of them holding WALL-E now. That he might have liked them better.

Sometimes when she was sure that they were not looking her way, she glanced at him and Probe One with the corner of her eyes. And she told herself that it couldn’t be, that he could have never loved another so much, because it only made sense for him and Probe One to be together.

But the voice in her head still wondered. It could have happened to any of us.

For all these reasons Probe Five couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes. She was afraid she would glance at WALL-E and feel something. And even when she inadvertently looked at him, when her fins brushed against him by mistake, when he greeted her and she felt nothing, still the niggling fear of what might happen the next time kept eating at her.

It was impossible to be in the same room with him, to exchange a word or two with him as she did with the other robots. If she had found out that she liked him more than she ought to, it would have destroyed her – and Probe One too. That was where Probe Five drew the line. She couldn’t care less about herself. But she would have never broken her sister’s heart.

The Reject BRL-A was looking at her. Again.

Look, our hero doesn’t bite, said his optic. Don’t be rude, say ‘hi’!

I can’t, she would have wanted to answer. Not until I no longer run the risk of having some feelings for him. Not until I find… but what was she thinking?! Find herself someone? As if she was ever likely to! Nobody in their right mind could take an interest in an EVE probe who was so terribly below-par.

It was then that a movement from above caught her attention.

At first she thought that it was a bird, or perhaps a bat, although it was far too large to be a bat. But then the creature glided smoothly down to a halt in front of them, and Probe Five realized that it was an unknown robot with long wings and strange tubular arms, neck and midsection.

EVE and her sisters gaped openly at the alien female. Her chassis was a pale blue with white markings, and where her chest should have been, she had a secondary black screen. Presently it was deactivated. She looked at them with black-rimmed LED eyes, hers a darker shade of blue. Probe Five tried to recall if she had ever come across her in the last twenty years, and decided that she hadn’t. Her sisters seemed equally dumbstruck, so she took it for granted that they had never seen her too. She wondered where the stranger might have come from and what she was doing near the Axiom in the middle of a storm. There was something deeply unsettling about her sudden appearance…

And then, with a flinch, she realized that it wasn’t about her but about the Reject BRL-A, who writhed angrily at Probe Five’s side. Strange; anger wasn’t a feeling that she’d have ever thought of associating with him. Do you know each other?, she would have wanted to ask. 

Today it’s the second time I see her. And frankly I’m beyond fed up with that one. What does she want?, he thought.

He wasn’t the only one acquainted with her, she noticed. WALL-E was waving his hand, and EVE looked at him curiously. How do you know her?

I don’t. I ran into her some days ago.

But the tall robot did not return his greeting, although her eyes flared imperceptibly – in recognition. She did not speak, she did not nod, and surely she did not blink. For a moment, EVE felt as though she was standing once more in front of a taller, blue-eyed female version of Auto. If she had had a mouth, it would have long turned dry.

::Naaame?:: she finally asked.

::BRIDGET:: The other’s reply was as non-committal as they came. Sharp like a gun blast. But then, out of the blue, she inquired: ::Do you miss your directive?::

The question came as such a surprise that EVE almost doubted she had heard it right. She glanced quizzically at Probe Seven, and Probe Seven shrugged as if to say, ‘I’ll be damned if I know’. Probe Five did not say anything, wondering why BRIDGET’s eyes never fell on the Reject and why he disliked her so much. WALL-E blinked.

::Directive:: answered EVE, pointing to the pods they had just parked.

BRIDGET shook her head impatiently. ::Negative. I am referring to your original directive of Extraterrestral Vegetation Evaluator.:: There was a pause in which she stared down at EVE with fierce intensity. ::You never yearn for that, do you?:: she asked, like someone who already knows the answer to her question.

No, why should I? And I’m still carrying out my directive!, EVE wanted to protest. I help the humans growing plants. She nodded toward the rain swept fields in the distance and repeated: ::Directive!:: Then she held WALL-E tighter to her. ::Waaalle:: I have the love of my life, I have my work. What else do I need?

BRIDGET looked from her to the waste allocator, and WALL-E flinched as he realized she was watching him. There was something different from the first and last time he had seen her, something that he couldn’t fathom. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, or a ferocity in her gaze that she hadn’t had there. All he knew was that something had changed.

::How fortunate you EVE probes are:: she said at length. Probe Five thought that her words sounded almost bitter. ::You got recycled, and tricked yourself to think that it is the same. The humans tell you scan this, and you comply. They let defective on the loose, and you take them in with your own.::

Opening and closing his canopy like a fury, BRL-A went for her. I’ll give you defective, you little…

But Probe Five rushed to grab his pole and hold him back. No, don’t, please!

You stay out of this, mercury droplet!, he raged, trying to get past her and at BRIDGET, who had turned to watch their struggle with an expression of distaste.

Don’t you see that she’s just trying to goad you?, she pleaded with her eyes. And it's not even worth it!

At least it’s gonna make me feel better!

Probe Seven flew to help her sister. But before EVE could say what she was thinking – which was a big fat “shut up” at BRIDGET’s address – the reconnaissance bot spoke again. Her eyes had drifted from the fighting couple to the Axiom, and for the first time she blinked. ::They tell you to stray from your intended course, and you steer. The humans:: she laughed bitterly. ::What do the humans know about charting courses? Or about steering?::

EVE’s eyes narrowed. She wasn’t going to let this weird robot get away with the last word. ::Earth!:: she said challengingly. What need is there for charting courses or steering? The Axiom has landed. This is our home, now!

She had touched a sore circuit. BRIDGET spun upon her so quickly that WALL-E instinctively cubed up, and EVE all but deployed her gun – just in case. Like a primed steel trap, the reconnaissance bot glared at her with something at a time desperate and wild in her eyes. But when she spoke, her voice was once more impassive, if not slightly jaded. ::I do not envy you:: she said.

And what’s that supposed to m--

Just then, out of the Axiom’s doors came Ryan and the other probes, with one last batch of lifepods in tow. They stood for a minute on the threshold, looking in disbelief at the scene before them. On one side, Probe Seven and Probe Five were trying to calm down BRL-A, who continued to flung his canopy open in a rage. On the other, WALL-E’s eyes barely emerged from his cube as EVE and BRIDGET squared off.

What’s going on here?, thought Probe Ten, shaking her head.

Ryan looked at BRIDGET, raising an eyebrow. “A reconnaissance unit” he said, more to herself than to her. “Yes, the Axiom had one, the records said. But I thought she had been dismantled.”

Slowly, BRIDGET’s eyes trailed from EVE to the man. WALL-E did not know what was scarier – if the outburst when EVE had mentioned Earth, or this gelid calm. ::Dismantled:: she echoed. ::For what reason?::

That seemed to catch even the roboticist off surprise. “I’ve never seen you, prior to this” he said. “I assumed…”

::Your assumption was erratic:: BRIDGET cut him off sharply. Then she turned back to glance at the Axiom, as if she had not seen it in a long time and wanted to keep a good memory file of it. ::Things do not get dismantled just because people do not see them.::

“Well, what was I was supposed to think?”

Her LED eyes flickered with amusement, bitterness and something else that was almost painful to watch. ::The wrong thing, of course. When have human calculations ever been accurate? You do not have a very good computing power:: she replied. ::That is why you need us.::

And before Ryan could answer – before the EVE probes could warble her vehement disagreement, before BRL-A could go for her, and before WALL-E could look at her with unspeakably sad eyes – BRIDGET had folded out her wings and thrust herself in the sky. For a moment she hovered like a spectre against the gloomful, rolling storm clouds.

There was a great CRASH of thunder. A flash of lightning illuminated the docks as if it was morning, and when the light returned to normal, BRIDGET was nowhere to be seen.


Was it really twenty years ago that I last set foot here?, wondered the Captain. His eyes traveled from the elevator to the baluster, to the consoles that had once displayed a wide array of buttons and thinking lights. He indulged fondly on the hoverchair trampled on the ground, as though it was a long lost friend that he had not seen in ages. Oh hey, there you are!

In the dark McCrea could only make out the outline of things, but he was so familiar with the place that it might as well have been lit up. He remembered everything as clearly as if had left the Bridge only yesterday. Odd. How could he remember, and yet feel like he hadn’t been here since an eternity or two? Only twenty years?, he wanted to ask. Really?

The windows spaced on the storm outside, but McCrea couldn’t bring himself to look out, because in front of the window was the one thing that he was less prepared to see again. He lowered his eyes, fidgeting with the buttons of his jacket. Smirking, he remembered that there had been a time when he couldn’t even button the thing up, while now it was perhaps a bit stretched over his prominent stomach, but buttoned up all the same.

He was buying time, he knew. But the truth was, he couldn’t bring himself to glance at the deactivated steering wheel. Not yet, he kept telling himself. Not yet. Although he had come to the Bridge for no other reason than to see Auto, he wasn’t ready to look up yet.

“You’re not getting away from me, one-eye!” he had growled, holding onto the faceplate for dear life while Auto trashed around the bridge, like a wild bull.

::Let go:: the Autopilot sternly said.

He swung, bucked and tried to slam the Captain down against the control panel, but McCrea had unsuspecting strength in his chubby arms.

“Ooof – that’s all you got?” taunted McCrea. His face was so close to the Autopilot’s optic that he could see the resentment in Auto’s stare. It was hard to say who was more disappointed in the other, if the Captain or the steering wheel. But then something else had flickered in Auto’s optic, something so surprising that it had left McCrea astonished, giving his opponent a momentary advantage. If he had not known better, he would have said that Auto was not only resentful, but displeased over having to fight his Captain. For a moment, he thought he had caught a silent apology in the Autopilot’s single red eye. As if Auto had meant to say, I am sorry, Captain. I wish we had not come to this. But you leave me no other choice.

You don’t know how sorry I am too, Auto, McCrea had thought quietly. And it was then, while he struggled to overcome the Autopilot, that he had understood why Auto was not going to heed and obey. And why he, McCrea, was going to fight him to the last. Auto had put it best earlier on, in McCrea’s quarters; they were both following their directives. Ironically, their directives coincided, as they both wanted to keep the Axiom’s passenger safe, but their means did not, as McCrea wanted to let them fly free and Auto wanted to keep them in a gilded cage. True freedom against the gilded cage – it all always came down, it seemed, to the same age-long feud…

“Captain, sir?” asked a voice behind him.

Startled, McCrea spun around. “Cale! Damn it, you nearly gave me an heart attack! Why aren’t you with Ryan and the probes?”

“I hoped to have a word with you, sir” said Cale, and the Captain remembered how he had thought before that the young man wanted to say something, but eventually decided not to.

“You mean I’m going to find out what it is that you’ve been mulling over all the way to the Axiom?” He could guess, more than see, Cale’s astonished expression. He smiled wryly. “Look here, Cale, I won’t be the brightest bulb of New Chicago, but I can see when people are worried by something. C’mon, spit it out. What’s the matter?

For a minute or two, Cale did not answer, as if trying to sort out his thoughts. Awkwardly, he passed a hand through his bowl-cut blonde hair. “You’ll probably think it’s not a business of mine, sir, but I’d be interested to know all the same. What’s your take on the Axiom?”

McCrea blinked. “Unusual question. Do you mean, if I hate it like your aunt does?”

“You don’t.” It was not a question.

“No”, replied the Captain, shaking his head. “No, I don’t hate the Axiom. Cale, I’ve lived those events first hand. I know better than to blame a ship for what we had done to ourselves.”

“Yes!” Cale exclaimed, as if he had said the magic word. “That’s it, exactly. Sometimes I feel – I don’t know, like everyone wants to unburden our responsibilities over what happened, and the Axiom just happens to be the closest scapegoat they can think of. Like they hate it not because it’s done them any harm, but just in order not to hate themselves.” His dark eyes flashed adamantly as he spoke. By the end, he was out of breath. “Do you understand?”

McCrea nodded. “I do. But you’re wrong to think that everyone feels that way toward the Axiom. Most of them don’t even care about making it a scapegoat, when it’s so much easier to forget that it even exists.”

“Yes, of course” said Cale, scowling. “With them it’s always either disapproval or indifference. Once they set their mind on something, there’s no talking them out of it.” Why did he think that he wasn’t speaking of the Axiom anymore?

“Prejudices have roots that deep. But… Cale, mind if I give you a friendly advice?”

“Sure, go on”, replied the boy with a shrug.

“Don’t be too harsh on your aunt. Karen is…” he looked for the right word, “… a very frightened woman.”

Cale snorted. “That’s not the way I’d put it.”

“She and your uncle really believed in this world” said McCrea. “But after what happened to Ronald, she feels like the world betrayed her. She’s terrified by it, and she fears that she might not resist the call of the gilded cage if she allowed herself – or Russell – to get too close to it. That’s why she feels so strongly against the Axiom, why she hates it so.”

Cale had lowered his head and tucked his hands in his pockets, frowning. He did not even seem to have heard, but suddenly he asked:

“Do you ever think that in emergencies like this storm, it might be a good idea to retreat in the Axiom?”

“It had – crossed my mind, yes.”

The Captain said so almost guiltily, and Cale couldn’t refrain from smiling.

“Ah well, good thing that you didn’t suggest that, then” he chuckled. “Seriously though, why not? I bet that we’d make a better use of the ship today than we did back then, if only…”

“No hoverchairs?” asked McCrea with a smirk.

“That too. I mean, we don’t have to live in it! Can’t it be just a starliner, something that we use for travelling?” Cale paced back and forth animatedly. It stuck McCrea how much like Ronald he looked in the moment – as if his cousin had just returned from death to invest him with the same enthusiasm that he had in life. “Just think where it could take us!”

“Cale--” warned McCrea.

“What do we know about space, although we lived there for generations?” insisted Cale. “Next to nothing! We never looked beyond our holoscreens! Now we’ve the chance to see it for real, Captain, to see it all…”

“Cale!” the Captain firmly repeated. “Don’t count your robots before they are assembled! I said that I see your point, but it’s going to snow in August the day the Axiom takes off again.”

Cale looked positively crestfallen. He opened his mouth to speak, but all the words he thought of saying sounded so stupid and weak that he just shook his head and muttered: “Yeah. Yeah, sure.” What was I thinking?, he scowled. The Captain’s right, this is the way things are. No one’s going to see the Axiom as anything but a trap. Maybe I should just give up telling them otherwise, for all it’s worth. “Well… I’d better go, Ryan will be wondering why I’ve not returned yet.” He turned to leave, and his gaze fell on Auto’s steering wheel, standing at the periphery of the bridge. As if stuck by a sudden thought, he asked: “What was the Autopilot like, before… you know…?”

The Bridge was shroud in the darkness, and therefore Cale could not see the Captain’s face stiffen at those words. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he turned his head in the same direction that Cale was looking at.

He did not know what he had expected to feel – if regret, pity or a sense of liberation. But all he felt watching Auto’s motionless shape was boundless sympathy. Sure, he could go back all he wanted to their confrontation of twenty years before – but prior to that, Auto had been more than an assistant, more than a mentor, more than a friend for McCrea. He was the figure at which McCrea would have turned for aid, if he had been closed in a burning building. Always, always in control.

“I’ve known Auto on-and-off for almost my entire life” he replied at length. “After I became a trainee, he was my only guide. He taught me all I know about leadership.”

“Him?” asked Cale. “Not Captain O’Brien?”

McCrea couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “When all was said and done, the Captains didn’t really do much on the Axiom after the morning announcements. O’Brien was a good man, but he wouldn’t have known where to start training his successor. No, it was Auto who was in charge of the trainees. O’Brien told me once that he had trained him too, and Captain Brace before his time.”

“You and Auto got along well in the old times, didn’t you?”

Pause. “In many ways I guess you could say that he was the father I never had. Sometimes he could be very irritating, of course, but…” he trailed off, and Cale picked up where he had left.

“But you miss him.”

“Yes” replied the Captain, lowering his head. “I miss him. Many a times I’ve wished that he could assist me, when… well, at the beginning it wasn’t easy to get used to the responsibility of leadership. I had to do everything on my own, and for me it was a first. Suddenly there was no more Auto to tell me this is so and so, to correct me before I made a mistake. You know one thing, Cale?”

The young man looked at him quizzically.

“It was in those earlier days,” said McCrea, “that I realized we Captains had always counted too much on Auto. If we hadn’t been so dependent on him, if he hadn’t had to be in charge of everything, perhaps now we wouldn’t have come to this.” He waved at the deactivated steering wheel.

“What do you mean, sir?” asked Cale, frowning. “I thought that A113…”

“No, I didn’t speak of that. Auto had his directive to follow and would have stuck to it. But if he had had less power, if he hadn’t been the Axiom’s… facta factotum, perhaps it wouldn’t have been necessary to deactivate him. Because there was only so much that he could have done.” Even in the pitch darkness, Cale thought he had seen the glimmer of a tear in McCrea’s eyes. “Now I only wish I could apologize to him. His condition, the Axiom’s condition… it’s like my ancestors were responsible for both, and I with them.”

At length, McCrea swallowed. Part of him would have wanted to move over to the steering wheel, pat it, tell something. Part of him knew that it was useless, because Auto was trapped in a nothingness from which he could not see or feel anything. “I suppose… things went as they had to do” he croaked, with a voice that he did not recognize at his own. He observed Auto for a few more seconds and then saluted respectfully. “Auto was a good Autopilot, for the most part. That’s how I want to remember him.”

“I’m sorry”, whispered Cale, placing a hand on the Captain’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” What was it with his voice? It seemed to have got struck in his throat. He looked away from Auto’s steering wheel, threw a last circular glance to the Bridge, and then turned to leave. “C’mon, Cale. The others have probably finished with those escape pods, and I don’t have anything left to do here. Let’s go home.”

[FREDD-E]

Oh. My. God.

...Where to begin?

I really liked the bit with Deb Five and BRL-A in the rain. And the encounter with BRIDGET was slightly scary.

Wow, BRIDGET's still really bitter towards the humans. I can imagine her taking matters into her own servos soon enough...

I also loved the bit with the Captain and Cale, too. You feel sorry for the poor guy.

It's all brilliantly written.

 

[Cri86]

Thanks so much, FREDD-E! And yes, come next chapter, BRIDGET's going to take matters in her servos with consequences that not even she can begin to fathom 

And I felt like the Captain and Cale really talked to me writing this chapter, I could channel their emotions so well So I'm happy that you liked it, and that the two chapters were worth the wait 

[CAPT-N]

BRIDGET freaked me out. As usual. Good stuff, bud! This is something I'd buy as a book, no lie.

[Cri86]

Thank you!!!   Really you would buy it if it was a book? You're too kind!

And even more freaky will be what BRIDGET's actions lead to   

[Cri86]

Edit; forgot,  !

[CAPT-N]

OF COURSE I WOULD! The cover art would be AWESOME I bet! I swear on all my Pixar DVDs I'd buy it as a book! I would buy more than one copy just in case I lose one, and to give as Christmas presents to my Pixar lovin' pal in RL.

[Cri86]

  Thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks to infinity and beyond!!!  

[Dementor]

I ditto all CAPT-N's words!

[CAPT-N]

Ah, Dementor, have for ditto-ing all the time.

[FREDD-E]

I'd also buy it as a book.

And if I owned a movie company, I would probably make a film version.

[Dementor]

And if I owned a movie company, I would probably make a film version.

It makes great WALL•E 2

[CAPT-N]

I want to be one of the voice actors!

[FREDD-E]

And if I owned a movie company, I would probably make a film version.

It makes great WALL•E 2

I'd say it's more of a spin-off... but yeah!

I want to be one of the voice actors!

That gives me an idea... just wondering, does anyone here have any skill in making Flash animations?