Beyond the arch, the building had its own cheerful sign, saying Welcome Station. Giles headed toward it, gun in hand, and the others followed him. The sound of their feet crunching the grass seemed very loud in the eerie silence. They all had a constant feeling of being watched, but no matter how quickly they looked in any direction, there was never anyone to be seen. As they drew closer, they discovered that the Welcome Station hadn’t escaped the war’s attention either. The inner walls, still remorselessly bright and cheerful, showed the scars and pockmarks of discharged energy guns. There were long jagged cracks in the floor and holes in the ceiling, from high explosives. There were dark scorch marks everywhere, from fires that had been left to burn themselves out. And though the walls still stood, the Welcome Station was now cold and lifeless.
The rebels moved slowly forward, checking every corner and shadow for potential enemies. They all had guns in their hands now, except for Toby and Flynn, who were getting it all on film. The eerie silence hung about them like a shroud as they passed from room to room. The wooden furniture had been broken apart and the pieces tossed aside, like so much kindling. Some of it had been used to start fires, but they hadn’t taken. There were children’s paintings on the walls, damaged by smoke and heat, and curling at the edges. Some were splashed with blood. More unusual were oversize children’s toys, overturned here and there, like a rocking horse large enough for a grown man to ride. As they pressed deeper into the Welcome Station, the rebels found themselves stepping over more toys left scattered on the floor as though their owners had been interrupted in their play, or had had to leave in a hurry. But for all the damage and destruction, the fires and the smeared bloodstains, still the bright colors dominated the rooms, as though the rebels were walking through a violated and abandoned nursery.
But if that was so, where were the children?
And then they came to the gymnasium and had to fight not to look away. They were in the heart of the building now, with bright sunlight streaming through the shattered windows, illuminating climbing frames and vaulting horses and other simple equipment, most of it wrecked or overturned. And there, at the back of the room, on a row of wooden stakes hammered into the floor, were impaled twenty severed human heads. There was no sign of the bodies anywhere, or even that much blood. The shrunken, mummified faces stared back at the rebels with empty eye sockets. Their mouths dropped in silent, eternal screams.
Evangeline moved in close beside Finlay, gripping her gun so tightly her fingers ached. If anything had moved in the shadows just then, she would have shot it without hesitating. It seemed there was no room left in her for anything but anger and rage at what had been done to these men and women. Somehow she knew without a shadow of a doubt that nothing human had done this. This was an affront to Humanity, planned and delighted in by its perpetrators. Giles glared about him, searching for some enemy to revenge himself on, but there was no one. Toby gestured to Flynn, who nodded, and sent his camera forward for a close-up, panning slowly along the row of screaming faces.
“You bastards,” said Julian, his voice thick with emotions he couldn’t afford to release. “You bloody vultures. Haven’t you any feelings? Is that all you can think of, getting good pictures for your ghoulish audience? Doesn’t this move you at all?”
“Sure,” said Toby. “That’s why we’re getting a record of each face, so they can be identified by their next of kin.”
“Oh,” said Julian. “I’m sorry.”
“And because it’s a dynamite shot. It’ll make a hell of an impact on the early-morning news slots. This is the kind of footage that wins awards.”
“Not to mention bonuses,” said Flynn.
“Right,” said Toby. “And if it puts a few people off their breakfast, so much the better. With a bit of luck, someone might even call in and complain. You can’t buy publicity like that.”
Julian didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t involve shouting, so in the end he said nothing. He didn’t want the others to think he couldn’t control himself. He looked to Finlay for his cue. The Campbell was looking at the severed heads, but not seeing them, his brows furrowed as he tried to remember something. Evangeline put a hand on his arm.
“What is it, Finlay?”
“I know this place,” he said slowly. “Summerland. Someone told me about it, long ago . . . This wasn’t just a pleasure planet.”
“What else was it?” said Giles.
“I’m not sure,” said Finlay. “But I think . . . it was a therapy world.”
“There’s someone outside,” Julian said abruptly. Everyone looked at him sharply, except for Giles, who nodded slowly.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “Two of them. Waiting by the entrance.”
Julian looked at him. “Since when have you been an esper, Deathstalker?”
“I’m not,” said Giles. “I just know things, sometimes. Do a full scan, esper.”
Julian concentrated. “Two life-forms. Not human. Definitely not human. But . . . sort of human. I’ve never sensed anything like it. They’re waiting for us to come out. They don’t feel threatening.”
“Then let’s go talk with them,” said Finlay. “And let’s hope they have some answers. Because I’m not in the mood for any more mysteries. I just want something I can hit.”
They moved quickly back through the deserted rooms, still checking warily for ambushes as they went, until finally they reached the main entrance, then stumbled to a halt at the sight of what they found waiting for them there. Standing calmly before the entrance was a four-foot-tall teddy bear, with golden honey fur and dark knowing eyes. He wore a bright red tunic and trousers, and a long bright blue scarf around his neck. He looked warm and lovable and entirely trustworthy. His companion didn’t inspire the same kind of immediate trust. Well over six feet tall, and wrapped in a long filthy trench coat, he looked human enough, apart from the cloven feet, clawed hands, and large blocky goat’s head, with long curling horns and a permanently nasty smile. His grey fur was soiled and matted where it showed, and his eyes had a dangerous wildness to them. He stood slouching before the rebels, half the buttons missing from his trench coat, his ears drooping as though he couldn’t be bothered with them.
Finlay and his party stood very still, crowded together in the entrance. Whatever they’d been expecting, this very definitely wasn’t it. Julian felt like shooting the goat-thing on sight, but somehow couldn’t bring himself to do it. There was something about the goat, and the bear. The Bear . . . Julian pushed his way forward, looking from the Bear to the Goat and back again.
“I know you,” he said hoarsely. “I know you, don’t I?”
“Of course you do,” said the Bear, in a warm and understanding voice. “All children know us.”
“You’re Bruin Bear and the Sea Goat,” said Julian. “Every child’s friend and hero.”
“Yes,” said Evangeline, pushing forward to stand beside him, her eyes fixed on the bear. “I used to have all your adventures, when I was . . . young. Full of magic and wonder and marvelous places. I remember. There were books and cartoons and films and interactive games, all to do with your adventures in the Golden Lands. I remember . . .”
“Yeah, well, we’ve been around for a while,” said the Sea Goat. “Not that we ever saw any royalties, mind. Still, that’s what happens when you’re not real, and you can’t afford a decent lawyer.”
“You’re automatons,” said Finlay. “Mechanical devices with preprogrammed minds, in the shapes of well-loved children’s characters.”
“Nah,” said the Sea Goat. “We’re just toys. We’re all toys here.”
“Welcome to Summerland,” said Bruin Bear. “Or what’s left of it. We’re here to look after you.”
“We have got to make time for an interview with them,” Toby said to Flynn. “Bruin Bear and the Sea Goat, in their own words. People go crazy for this nostalgia stuff. Damn, what else are we going to run into on this world? The mind boggles.”
“I’ve always
liked the word boggle,” said the Sea Goat. “I think it’s the two g’s. I like marmalade, too. Does very interesting things with the shape of the mouth. Maarmalaade.”
Giles looked at the others. “You know these characters? Hell, they were classics, even in my day. If they’re still popular, maybe the Empire isn’t as far gone as I thought.”
“We’re hard to get rid of,” said the Sea Goat. “Never really in or out of fashion, but never really forgotten, that’s us. Some smart-ass always tries to update us, but it never takes, and they always go back to the classics in the end. That’s why we ended up here. Mind you, I don’t think our creator, whoever the hell that may have been, back in the mists of time, ever expected what would happen here. Come on, Bear, let’s get this bunch moving. It’ll be evening soon, and things are always worse once it starts getting dark.”
“Hold everything,” said Finlay. “No one’s going anywhere until we’ve got some answers. Starting with who the hell killed those marines and stuck their heads on sticks?”
“It was the bad toys,” said Bruin Bear. “The bad toys killed everyone here. By now they must know you’re here, and they’ll be coming to kill you, too. Please, come with us. We’ll take you somewhere safe, and explain along the way.”
He smiled at them winningly, and they all had some kind of smile in return. He was that kind of Bear. And because he was Bruin Bear, that most trustworthy of animals, the rebels looked at each other, nodded more or less in unison, and followed the Bear up the grassy slope away from the wrecked Welcome Station. The Sea Goat stayed at the rear, grumbling to himself and looking around him with wild staring eyes, as though he expected an attack at any moment. Even though they could all see for miles across the open grassy plains, and there was no living thing in sight. Bruin Bear led the way, doing his best to remain cheerful as he calmly and evenly unfolded a tale that grew steadily darker and more disturbing. And for all its strangeness and terrors, the rebels believed every word. He was, after all, that sort of Bear.
In the beginning, there was Shannon’s World and Summerland. Shannon’s newly terraformed planet had been designed from top to bottom to be calm and peaceful, and everyone’s idea of heaven. Or to be exact, every child’s vision of heaven. There was no ecostructure, no native life, nothing to get in the way of Summerland. A place where there were no demands, no duties, no necessary boring tasks. Just Summerland, and the toys that lived there. Intricate automatons following simple programs, based on familiar and much-loved fictional creations, from the oldest and most traditional to the very latest fads. This was to be a peaceful world, where men and women could put aside their cares and worries and just be children again. A place of gentle therapy, relaxation and rest, where children of all ages could play and laugh and sleep, secure in the knowledge that they were loved and cosseted and cared for. A place of safety, safe even from pain and stress and responsibilities.
Summerland. One man’s dream, that became every man’s nightmare.
It was very popular. Because it was in the nature of an experiment, Summerland wasn’t very big to begin with, and could only handle a few thousand visitors (or patients) at a time, so there was always a long waiting list. There were no human staff in Summerland, only the toys, so as not to disturb the illusion of the security and innocence of childhood. There was no high tech, beyond the most basic, for food and shelter and weather control, and that was kept well hidden. The toys had orders to prevent bad behavior, and if necessary remove any persistent troublemakers, so that the illusion might not be unduly shattered, but they were rarely called upon to act. Access to Summerland was too precious to risk. And so the adults became children again, and laughed and played and were content.
And then came the rogue AIs from Shub.
Or rather, there came a dozen Furies, metal attack robots in human skins, through which the AIs spoke and acted. They passed through Shannon’s World’s defenses unharmed, as though they weren’t even there, and landed right in the innocent heart of Summerland. The toys clustered around them, fascinated by new visitors who were neither human nor automaton, but perhaps somehow more than either. The Furies seized a dozen toys at random, took them inside their inhuman ship, and upgraded their intelligence, turning them from simple preprogrammed servants into fully fledged independent AIs. The newly conscious toys went back into Summerland, and the change spread like a virus, leaping from toy to toy till every automaton on the planet was awake and aware and truly alive for the first time. A new generation of rogue AIs, in the bodies of toys. But with the change came new Shub programming. With intelligence came a built-in command—to attack and destroy humankind, to wage war with Humanity until no living thing of flesh and blood remained on Shannon’s World. To make a bloodbath of Summerland.
Some toys fell in love with the superior qualities of the Furies and happily slaughtered humans while singing songs of praise to Shub. Other toys found first resentment and then hatred in their roles as servants or slaves to Humanity, and rose up against their masters, determined to be free, no matter what the cost. Some toys gloried in murder, while others fought with cold implacable logic. And some just did what they were told by their new programming, and would not think of the consequences.
The toys fell upon the human guests with Fury-given strength and tore them limb from limb, blood staining furry paws and stitched cloth limbs. There were screams of horror and panic as much-loved and trusted figures slaughtered men and women and laughed while they did it. The humans tried to fight, but they had no weapons, and were greatly outnumbered. They tried to flee, but there was nowhere to run to. The Furies controlled the only landing pads, and had destroyed the few human ships waiting there. People tried to hide, but the toys always found them, and dragged them out into the open so that their deaths could be enjoyed by all.
But not all the toys went rogue. Some still remembered their original character, and simply became more real versions of what they had always been. Created to play the part of Humanity’s friends and defenders, they broke from Snub’s programming and took up their roles in reality. Created to love and care for their charges, some toys were sickened by the slaughter and fought their fellow toys to stop it. And some, now that they were free, refused to obey any orders, even Snub’s, and went their own way.
All too soon, all the humans on Shannon’s World were dead. The rogue AIs on Shub looked on their work and were pleased. The toys warred with each other then, good toy against bad, an endless struggle fueled by rage and hatred and unadmitted guilt. The Furies watched, somewhat disconcerted. This was not what had been planned. It had been expected that they would supply the toys with Shub ships, and they would then leave Shannon’s World to attack Humanity’s other worlds. Shub’s new terror-weapon—death and horror made from humankind’s own most-loved creations.
But by now the toys were split in two. On the one side, those determined to wipe out all Humanity, before they could make the toys into slaves again, and punish them for their rebellion. These toys hated humankind, for being inferior, for making them only property. They wanted to be free and glorious, like the Furies who brought them the gift of reason.
On the other side, toys who saw Humanity as their parents and creators, who loved them even after they stopped being children. These toys still remembered men and women as the tired and hurt patients they soothed and loved and cared for. And so war came to Shannon’s World, as toy fought toy in endless battles. Shub had made them well, and they did not die easily. One side fought to leave the planet and spread its death and terror among Humanity, and the other side fought to stop them, and protect Humanity. The Furies eventually left. They had other work to do, and were not unhappy with what they had achieved.
And so Shannon’s World became Haceldama, the Field of Blood.
“The war goes on,” said Bruin Bear sadly, as he led the rebel party across the wide grassy plain. “The bad toys greatly outnumber the good, but as long as we keep them from leaving this world, we’re winning. Few human
s come here now, and most of them die quickly. Some even kill themselves when they see the awful thing Shub has done. That’s why the Goat and I came to meet you. So you could see that not all the toys had forsaken you.”
“And to try and get you to what passes for safety here, before the bad toys turned up and showed you what your own insides looked like,” said the Sea Goat. “I know what you’re thinking. You’ve got guns and swords. You’re tough guys. It wouldn’t make any difference. We’re really hard to kill these days. In the end, you’d have died screaming, just like the others. And I’ve heard too much screaming in my time.”
“Don’t think my friend is exaggerating,” said the Bear. “The bad toys wouldn’t care how much damage they took from your guns or swords. They’d just keep coming, wave after wave, till all of you were dead. They hate you so very much.”
“And you don’t hate us?” said Evangeline.
“Of course not. I don’t hate anyone. I’m Bruin Bear. And the Sea Goat . . . means well.”
“Thanks a whole bunch,” said the Goat. “You’ll be telling them I’ve got a heart of gold next. Pin a medal on me, why don’t you?”
“Where exactly are you taking us?” said Julian. He was rubbing at his forehead in a slow, bothered way.
“We’re going to Toystown,” said the Bear. “You’ll be safe there. If anywhere can be said to be safe now, in Summerland.”
“Bear, you can name your own price, but we have got to do an interview,” said Toby Shreck. “This story has everything! Death, pathos, tragedy, and new AIs! A whole new form of intelligent artificial life! The first independent nonhuman intelligence since the rogue AIs went to Shub. This is history, people. Flynn, film everything. We’ll edit it later.”
“No problem,” said Flynn. “I’ve got plenty of storage space. Oh, wait a minute. I do not believe this.”
They all paused at the top of a ridge and looked down. In the bottom of a valley, a brightly colored, steam-driven, child-sized train and carriages was waiting for them. The train was scarlet and black, with a big happy face on the front, puffing steam from his funnel in a cheerful sort of way. The open carriages were all different colors, bright and shining, none of them more than eight feet long, the seats just big enough to take four people. Gleaming silver railway tracks stretched away into the distance. The train looked up at the party on the ridge, winked one great eye, and tooted welcomingly. Bruin Bear waved a paw in return. Finlay opened his mouth two or three times, and then shook his head firmly.