Free Proxy by Alex London

the nature of your difficulty,” the robot asked in an oddly gentle female voice. Syd was thrown off for an instant.
    “I . . . ,” he started. “My stomach . . . it hurts!” He groaned. “I think something ruptured. I need medical assistance.”
    “I am fully equipped to evaluate prisoner medical emergencies. Please stand,” the bot requested.
    “I can’t!” he groaned.
    The bot approached. Syd’s biodata appeared in holos in the air around it, monitoring his heart, his blood pressure, his brainwaves. For a moment, he was afraid the machine could read his mind, but, like Mr. Baram said, data was not the same as reading.
    Once the Arak9 was in front of him, he reached his hand underneath its armor-plated base and found the emergency reset exactly where it was supposed to be. He pressed his palm against it and mumbled a thank-you to Mr. Baram and the blessings of an informal education. They’d had the manual for the Arak9 Model 6 for months. His biodata vanished.
    “Now,” Syd told the bot when its active light came on again. “Program override. Recognize speech pattern alpha. Accept voice commands from this pattern only. Confirm.”
    “Pattern confirmed,” the bot replied in its metallic default voice.
    “Take me to the nearest exit,” Syd told it. “Disable any resistance with nonlethal means. Confirm.”
    “Nonlethal. Confirmed,” the bot said and walked into the hallway. Syd followed close enough to keep a hand on its back.
    The hallway was empty. They clattered toward a corner with a panel projecting a 3-D image of a white sand beach. It was meant to be soothing. Syd was not soothed.
    As they neared it, the image changed to a drone’s-eye view of Syd and the Arak9 moving down the hall. A silent alarm had been triggered. The lights in the hallway went out. Guardians could see in the dark. Syd couldn’t. He grabbed on to the bot with both hands.
    “Don’t lose me,” he told it.
    “Confirmed.”
    They moved quickly through the dark hallway. Syd’s body ached and he struggled to keep up. He was totally blind and going on faith that the Arak9 hadn’t been linked back to the network to lead him right into a trap. That’s what he would do if he were trying to catch himself right now.
    The Guardians’ plan, however, was much simpler.
    “Stop!” a female Guardian commanded from up ahead. A panel behind her lit up brightly, framing her in silhouette. A half-dozen more identical silhouettes appeared next to her. All of them armed.
    “You are in breach of contract,” the Guardian said. “And you have vandalized company property.”
    Syd heard the hum of EMD sticks charging up. The silhouettes raised their weapons. Syd braced for the painful convulsions. They never came.
    The Arak9 fired thick foam from its cannons, which flooded the hallway and surrounded the Guardians. The foam hardened instantly and absorbed the charge from their EMD blasts. The robot moved past the mountain of foam and headed toward the exit.
    Within minutes they were outside. It was night and the neon glow of the Upper City shone just beyond the high walls of the compound. The upper offices would have a clear view down into the center. Syd shuddered to think of the things those offices’ workers could see, the things they learned to ignore.
    Syd’s bot fired sonic blasts up to the guard towers that stood silhouetted against the neon lights. He heard the screams of Guardians as they were hit with a wall of concentrated vibrations, enough to shatter their perfectly designed eardrums. Male and female Guardians rolled on the ground in anguish ahead of him. His new toy had disabled every living thing in their path. He didn’t even hear so much as a ringing. This thing knew how to aim.
    He liked having his own bot. Maybe he could bring it with him into his new life, like a pet and a bodyguard all in one, the way people used to keep dogs. He’d need some company, anyway. He wasn’t about to ask Egan to go on the run with