Twisted Metal Read Online Free Page A

robot. You have all the necessary figures delivered to you on metal film.’
    ‘I know what makes a successful robot in Turing City,’ conceded Susan. ‘But is that the right way? You can see what it says . . .’
    She read the notice again:
     
    WOMEN OF TURING CITY
    RAMAN AND BORN. BETHE, SEGRE AND STARK. AND NOW WIEN.
    The Artemisian model has again proven to be the superior philosophy for building robots. Do you want your line to continue? Do you want your children to build children of their own? Then consider Nyro’s design. Nyro’s children are successful. Nyro’s children now populate almost all the southern continent of Shull. By any measure, Nyro has woven the most flourishing pattern of any robot mind currently existing on Penrose.
    Does your husband agree? Or does he still cling to the outdated practices of Turing City? It’s easy for men to talk about the nobility of a certain philosophy. All they do is produce the wire. But, come the night of the making of a mind, it is you that hold in your hands your child’s future well-being. Are you going to throw it away on some arbitrary belief, some vagary of fashion, or are you going to make a mind that really works?
    Think about it, Mother. You owe it to your child .
     
    ‘I didn’t know they had taken Wien!’ said Susan.
    Deya laughed dismissively. ‘Don’t believe everything you read, dear.’
    ‘I don’t care,’ said Susan weakly. ‘It makes a good point.’
    A diesel engine revved once, twice, somewhere behind them.
    ‘I can’t believe you’re talking like this,’ said Deya. ‘How many robots are there in Turing City at the moment?’
    ‘In the city itself, or the state as a whole?’
    ‘The city.’
    ‘Thirty-three thousand, one hundred and nine.’
    ‘And how many of them are built according to Artemisian philosophy?’
    ‘Twenty-one.’
    ‘Twenty-one! Hah! Well there you go.’
    ‘That we know of, anyway. But this time last year there were only four.’
    ‘So what? There’s no choice, Susan. Who is going to sacrifice their child to Artemis in this city? We have so much more going for us. Look!’
    She pointed to the high-vaulted roof of the station, the way that the thin, white-painted metal joined in delicate curves, the way that patterns of sunlight coloured by the glass illuminated the scrollwork of the wrought iron.
    ‘I bet they don’t have that in Artemis,’ said Deya.
    ‘I bet they don’t. But I wonder if they were saying the same in Wien, just before the invasion.’
    ‘I told you, Wien has not been invaded. That notice is lying. Anyway, we’re stronger than Wien.’
    ‘But are we strong enough? It makes me wonder whether it’s worth even making a child any more . . .’
    ‘It’s never been a good time to make a child! But you know you’re going to, Susan. You have the capability. You’re not like Nicolas the Coward.’
    ‘Am I not, Deya? I really don’t know if that’s true any more.’
    Susan stared out through the big empty end of the station, out across the wide valley, with its low railway bridges crisscrossing copper-green rivers, looked out at the deep blue sky that covered Shull, and she felt terrified. Some days she had felt as if the rails that emerged from this station were carrying Turing City’s philosophy out to an entire continent. Today she felt as if they were like an open door inviting in whatever darkness was now waiting beyond its borders.
    Karel
     
    Everything in the isolation area was painted white: new paint daubed on old, forming uneven patterns and waves on the metal of the floor and walls, white paint gathered on the bolts and rivets holding the building together. The sea could still be heard booming and crashing outside, but now the sound seemed more distant, muffled.
    There was a click as Gates locked him in. Now Karel was alone. There were three cells in here, each sealed with a heavy metal door, a tiny porthole placed in its centre. There was a sudden bang, and a rapid staccato