89 - You Needn't Add My Name

The wall glowed brightly and evaporated into golden sparks that grew brighter and brighter and Terry threw up a hand abruptly before the screen polarized. “Ow.” 

 “My screen reactivity is recalibrated. Apologies from the company for your discomfort. Tunnel depth now forty metres.”

The golden wash receded from the machine with the speed of a bicycle rickshaw, it looked like, glittering. “Won't the sensors above catch this?” Terry asked the machine as if it were Station, used to addressing a disembodied voice. 

“Negative.Current surface temperature varies from 1600 degrees C down to 500 degrees C. All emergency crews are here.” A small screen came to life on the dashboard, showing what looked like a target. “The central red circle indicates the remains of the building and all flaming debris. The outer circle is the limit of the fire-fighting machines and where they are maintaining their perimeter.” A dotted line from the centre directly out toward the edge of the continent began to strobe. “The digging machinery is calibrated for twenty kilometres before I shall be required to surface.” 

“Twenty...kilometres.”

“Yes. Engaging drive.” The squeezed-together, wrinkled machine rose up on its legs and flattened itself out, stretching smoothly into the tunnel. Terry wasn't sure why the manual was so adamant about staying in the crash couches. He could barely feel that they were moving. 

“Can you give me a rear-view?” He asked. 

“Affirmative.” A third screen activated, below the main screen. The glow from the tunnel being formed in front cast wildly black shadows behind the Mark VIII but gave him enough light to see what was going on. As they oozed out of the tiny space carved out for the sand-flea, the rock was coalescing, growing into and filling the space with what looked like natural rock.

“How should I... um... talk to you, machine? Do you have a designation?”

“I am Medical Over-Ride Module Mark I.” 

Terry blinked. “M.O.M.M.I? I simply cannot call you 'mommy'.” 

The machine voice never varied in timbre or speed but somehow managed to convey complete disapproval. “Mom will be an acceptable short form.”

Terry sighed. “A RAMTUFF evacuation vehicle with a nanny. Just what I need.” Apparently it did not have the nuanced human detection mode engaged.

“Yes. Exactly correct. At current speeds we shall be emerging from under the ground in two hours. On emergence at midnight I am instructed to await your direction. When I have been informed of the appropriate destination, my progress will be considerably faster than our current crawl.”

“Destination...I guess I should wake up my guide and convince him I'm getting him and his brother out of here.”

“Correction,Terence Arthur Cameron, this machine is getting all of you out of Xanadu code space.”

“Yes, Mom.” He couldn't help rolling his eyes. 

“My cabin sensors detected an additional facial twitch. Inexperienced driver subroutine. Engaging sarcasm and irony detection modes.”

“Just call me Terry, all right?”

“As you command, Terry.”

He pressed his lips together, not answering, and tried to rise from the couch a second time. This time there was no impediment and the cabin, now that Mom was underway was large enough that he could stand straight without smacking his head, though his top-hat would have been too much. The bunks were now full size and he went to the one holding the older, unloyalized boy. “Mom. Would you be able to restrain this boy, should he become violent towards me?”

“Yes,Terry.” 

“Please restrain him, as a precaution, and then over-ride the stasis he's been fed.”

“As you command, Terry.”

“Thank you, Mom. You needn't add my name to every utterance.” 

“You are welcome, Terence. Understood.”