We stood in the brightly lit corridor, waiting, cold air falling over us from a grilled box in the ceiling. It was a beautiful feeling—I leaned back and let it bathe me, barking out a laugh when I took a moment to regard Elli and Eadric and saw them doing the exact same.

“The apes have discovered air conditioning. Well, well, what will happen when you discover the toaster? Will you stick your hand inside?”

I wanted to tell CD to shut it, but he would only enjoy it even more, so I ignored him. It didn’t help that I wasn’t alone, either.

“I want to take that box home with us, Al,” Elli said, her eyes closed and arms out. “Having a house with this; that would be better than the geared towers of the heavens themselves.”

“Amen,” Eadric added, chuckling. “Doubt it’d keep working if you yanked it out of the wall like that, though. I’ve tried to take a lot of wonderful things home with me. Most give up their lights right at the outset.”

“Duh, what would you expect? Rip things out of the wall and just place them on a table or something? Of course they won’t work.”

“And anything that doesn’t requires old tech batteries,” I added, finishing his sentence. “Yeah, that doesn’t look like a battery device. As much as I wish it was. Speaking of batteries, sometimes we should just let them run out, then throw them away in a dark drawer or something.”

“Huh? What was that?” Eadric asked.

“Nothing, sorry. Was talking to myself.”

There was some static over the TUNI, and CD spoke again.

“I heard that.”

We sat in silence a bit longer, Elli tapping her foot beside me while Sir Eadric pulled a whetstone from his packs and took to his blade, sharpening it using smooth and fluid strokes.

I simply spent my time looking around at the walls, lights, the cooling box, and was about to turn my attention to the green biometric pads when a sudden and faint whirring sound caught our attention.

Whirling, I turned just in time to see a small panel in the wall slide open. Out rolled a bulbous service droid, maybe a foot tall, its body spherical and gleaming with a polished, metallic finish. It hovered a few inches off the ground, flying like a hummingbird but without the mosquito-like buzz of wings, and a single large eye blinked at us from the center of its chassis. The eye glowed faintly as it focused on us, metallic loops resected its lense into different shapes and colors until it apparently found one that suited its purposes.

“Ohh, a distant cousin of yours. How neat,” CD laughed over our link.

A series of beeps and clicks emanated from within the droid.

“Identifying . . . visitors,” the droid intoned, its voice mechanical and halting. “State your . . . designation . . . and origin.” It paused, emitting a loud whirring sound, as if calculating its next statement. “You are . . . not recognized . . . in the . . . system. Human DNA . . . detected.”

Elli stepped forward cautiously.

“I’m Ellinor, a free woman of the Principality of Erondas.”

The droid's eye blinked slowly, and it made another series of loud, clicking and whirring noises.

“Calculating . . . verifying . . . error,” it stated, a touch of confusion in its tone. “This unit . . . requires more . . . information. Specify . . . your city . . . and . . . governing body.”

I glanced at Sir Eadric, who gave a nonchalant shrug. Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, putting myself between the droid and the others.

“Hey there. I'm Alaric,” I began, making sure my voice was clear and steady. “I'm a serf of the Scavenger's Guild, a bondsman of the Principality of Erondas. Our city is named Alnda. It's a fortress city right before the Wilds, helping to keep the monsters and wildsmen from breaking in and wrecking things.” I paused, uncertain. “I'm not sure what you meant by governing body, though.”

The droid's eye flickered, and it emitted a series of rapid clicks and beeps, seemingly processing the information I provided. After a moment, its voice crackled to life again.

“Alaric . . . designation . . . serf of the Scavenger's Guild . . . recognized.” The tone was even, but there was an underlying hint of calculation. “City: Alnda . . . recorded. Fortress city . . . Wilds containment . . . acknowledged. Governing body . . . refers to the ruling authority . . . or council . . . in charge of . . . regional control.”

The droid paused, whirring and clicking. “No governing body . . . by the name of . . . Scavenger's Guild . . . found in current records. Please specify . . . name of ruling council . . . or governing officials.”

I listened, marveling at the droid's response. It had no idea of what to do with the information that I’d just given it. Probably every record it held was either incomplete or outdated.

I thought about the people who came before us and about how different they must have been to what we were today. The droid's single eye remained fixed on me, waiting patiently for further clarification.

I asked the question cautiously, my voice probing yet respectful.

“Do you know about my nation and city?”

The droid paused, its single eye focusing intently on me. The mechanical eye seemed to shift slightly, as if analyzing the question. A series of beeps and clicks echoed in the corridor, followed by a brief silence. The droid's voice then crackled to life, its tone as neutral and emotionless as ever.

“Nation: Principality of Erondas . . . not found in current records. City: Alnda . . . also not found,” it responded. There was another brief pause, followed by more whirring sounds. “Current records . . . significant data gaps. DNA contamination in human samples. Possibility: genetic evolution.”

The droid seemed to process this information for a moment longer before continuing, “No direct reference to . . . Erondas or Alnda . . . detected. Please provide . . . additional context or historical references . . . for accurate identification.”

“No, I don’t think so,” I responded. “First, I want to know a few things. You came out of that wall over there, and you’re asking us all of these questions. Why?”

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“And maybe ask him where he’s from and all that also,” Eadric called from behind me. “Seems like we should be moving for a fair exchange.”

“And pop goes the weasel. Those knights of yours are just as dumb as all other apelings. How sad.”

The droid clicked and hummed, interrupting CD.

“I am Oracle, information droid and records keeper for the United States Military Command 34th Mechanized Headquarters . . . Command Priority—Greet . . . House . . . Record . . .”

The droid buzzed and burred, settling to the floor from its float and emitting a dark red color. I backed off, alarmed, as Eadric raised his blade and Elli fumbled out her crossbow.

Then an image cast out of the droid onto the wall, while above us, the lights dimmed. As we watched this eerily crimsonish broadcast, we were able to make out a human, old and balding, his body impossibly thick and muscular.

“Oracle, it’s all up to you now,” he wheezed, spitting something dark onto the floor before him. He was sitting against a wall, one that looked just like the ones in this facility. “Most of the garrison’s gone, most of the gear’s gone, there’s nothing on comms. The world’s wrecked, everything nuked.”

The man coughed, long and hard, and his lungs whistled.

“Nukes. Plagues. Chems. Mutes. Everything’s gone to hell. But, any humans come by, you let them in. Keep this place running. Maybe some lucky bastards will survive all this, and run into this place, and start up something new. Greet them. House them. Learn about the world and add it to the library. Civilization can’t end here.”

Though we couldn’t see him, we could hear the even tone of Oracle respond.

“The Toran prisoners. What should be done with them?”

“They surrendered honorably, and there’s no one left to fight or conquer. All this rot; if they hadn’t come we’d have done it to ourselves anyways. Make them promise to stay out of the main building and they can live in the rest of the base. Keep it all safe, for what that might be worth.”

The man coughed hard again, more dark crimson spilling into his hands.

“Let them in. Give them help. Make America Great Again.” He chuckled, fluid coating his lips as if he were some sort of vamp-mute. “Oh, and Oracle, when I go, stuff me in cryo. Maybe I’ve got some parts that might be of some use in future surgeries. Take it all out; keep it ready for someone who can use it.”

The image clicked off, the crimson light faded, and Oracle once again floated a little off the floor.

“Does that . . . answer your questions?”

We stared at the wall, willing the image to come back.

“I think it might have brought up a number more,” Elli muttered. “Are there more of those images?”

“My . . . video projection circuits have decayed . . . the color palette is unsuitable for enjoyable consumption . . . I have an array of non-corrupted . . . historical documents and archives . . . available. I have completed Greet. Now is: House . . . Learn. Please follow me.”

“Hold on,” I commanded. “We have companions inside there. Two big human soldiers named Alain and Oswald. Have you seen them?”

The droid's eye shifted, focusing on me as it processed the query. After a brief moment, it responded in its mechanical, even tone, “Alain and Oswald . . . have been found and passively restrained in a secure area. No harm . . . has come to them. They were isolated . . . to ascertain the nature and intent . . . of the new human visitors.”

Oracle made a brief pause and then continued.

“All of you and they are confirmed . . . as humans fitting mission parameters, despite monstrous irregularities in their DNA incompatible with Project Ultra human enhancing. This facility offers . . . residences, food, clothing, and additional resources . . . to meet all of your needs. Surgical enhancement and cybernetic surgeries . . . are all available as well. However, tissue samples will have to be taken . . . to process and set up these future enhancements properly.”

“You’ve hit the jackpot,” CD said and whistled. “Good for you. Wait, no, good for me. I will finally have a place suited for my research of the apeling—I mean, yes,I am very happy for you.”

“That's all well and good,” Sir Eadric remarked, “But we should probably stop yapping and go get Sir Alain and Oswald before they start tearing holes out of the wall. I doubt they're taking kindly to being trapped, even if it's all harmless. We need to defuse what is almost certainly going to be a very heated and angry situation.”

I nodded in agreement.

“Oracle, please take us to Alain and Oswald. We need to make sure they're okay and explain the situation to them.”

Oracle's eye blinked as it processed the request.

“Acknowledged. Follow this unit . . . to the containment area.”

As Oracle led the way through the complex, I couldn’t help but feel awed by the pristine condition of the interior. The hallways were lined with polished tile and sleek, reflective surfaces that gleamed under the bright overhead lights. Patriotic posters adorned the walls, displaying bold images of eagles, mechs, and super-sized men firing an awesome array of flaming and pulsing weaponry that put all of our modern weapons to shame.

One poster in particular caught my eye. It depicted a soaring eagle clutching an olive branch, its wings spread wide against a backdrop of a flag, underlined by the words United We Stand, Divided We Fall.

Another showed a group of diverse soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder, staring solemnly out from the poster to meet my curious look with prideful comradery. The phrase For Freedom and Justice was emblazoned beneath them.

The sides of the corridor were lined with doors, room after room just waiting to be opened up again, and ostensibly used as residences. Occasionally the corridor would open up into a rest and relaxation area. Here, the floors changed, made of a material that looked like polished granite but felt like the softest of noble rugs. More vending machines of the type I’d seen in the underground bunker hugged the corners of these rooms, offering an array of snacks and beverages.

Most were still operational, their digital screens flickering with inviting images of Freedom Figs, and Columbus Crisps, all of them accompanied by miniature figures who waved and winked, offering us their wares.

There was another one, as well, of a sort I hadn’t seen before. Its label called it Constitution Coffee – Patriot Up! and it had a curious slot and tray combination that suggested it would shoot the drink out into whatever container one placed beneath it.

I made a mental note to give it a try later once everything had settled down.

There were bookshelves in these rooms as well, lined with ancient texts, their bottom shelves devoted to colorful boxes that just begged to be opened and explored.

I shared a look with Elli, whose wide-eyes said so many more words than her lips ever could have. Eadric caught that look and nodded. “It's a marvel all right,” he agreed. “Can't wait to see what loot they’ve got.”

Oracle floated smoothly down the corridor in front of us, its eye occasionally swiveling to check on us. He led us through a large, open atrium that reminded me of the churches back home. The ceiling arched high above, adorned with a massive mural depicting a scene of progress and prosperity: scientists, engineers, and soldiers working together in harmony, under the watchful eye of a white haired and bearded man, clad in a suite of red, white, and blue that reminded me of the flags we’d seen in the posters and outside.

“Who is that?” I asked Oracle, pointing.

Oracle stopped, looked, and started moving once more. “Uncle Sam,” he responded.

“An emperor so humble he called himself Uncle,” Eadric said, his voice reverential. “I have seen his image before, but never in such detail.”

Oracle stopped, turned, beeped, then started again on his way.

“Lies, all lies! There were no leaders called ‘uncle’ back then!” CD said angrily. “We would have never lost to a ruler who called himself ‘uncle’. Never!”

“It's all so incredible,” I murmured. “They had a vision for the future . . . and they were so proud of it. And this Uncle Sam, he must have been quite the leader to beat those lizards back home.”

Elli nodded as more crackling sound came through the TUNI. CD must have been royally pissed.

“Yeah, it's a shame they didn't get to see it all the way through,” she replied softly.

Oracle finally stopped in front of a large, reinforced door that looked to have dropped down from the ceiling. It had a hard and clear porthole through which to look, which Oracle gestured to as it turned to face us.

“This is the containment area,” it announced. “Alain and Oswald are inside. They have been kept safe, but it is recommended that you proceed with caution. Emotional agitation . . . may be present.”

Sir Eadric stepped forward, peering through the hard plastic, and laughed.

“Looks like they tired themselves out. Lift up the doors. There won’t be any trouble.”

I moved up and peered in, noticing not only that they’d been contained in one of the relaxation rooms, but also that both of them had found nice comfortable sofas to lie down upon, and that they were fast asleep.