The door would not budge.

“Let me try.” Ceeron reached past me with its huge metal arm. It took hold of the door. And—

Still nothing.

Ceeron tried with both hands. An electronic groan escaped its speaker port. Its white eyes dimmed. The effort to open the door was draining its system, but still—it was not enough.

The door would not open.

Emma was trapped inside.

SkD rolled around in a tight circle, bright question marks filling its screen.

My response came in a verbal loop. “I do not know. I do not know. I do not—”

My voice stuttered to a halt. An update blinked across the Hive.

Cargo Infiltration by Unknown LifeForm.

Container Lockdown in Effect.

Each container must have its own security system. Sensors and auto_locks to protect its cargo against animals.

I should have known this would happen. Should have predicted it. How could I have been so unprepared?

An instant later, the answer took shape:

Because I had never done any of this before. Neither had my coworkers. We had spent our entire lives following the exact same routine. Home/Work/Sleep/Repeat. Every day looked like the one that came before/after. We had never stepped outside the boundaries of our programming, our purpose, our jobs.

Until yesterday.

Until Emma.

Now all the algorithms that controlled our actions were unraveling. And we were left with unpredictable situations.

Situations like this.

We were on one side of the thick metal door.

And Emma was on the other.

As I processed this, another update was added to the Hive.

Removal Underway.

A shadow sliced in our direction. I looked up just in time to see a crane’s arm swooping overhead. A single clawed hand dangled at the end of the arm.

The crane was coming for Emma.

00110010

I peered up at the huge claw in the sky. Two massive/metal fingers forming an upside-down U. As it swept in our direction, I calculated distance/height/velocity/trajectory.

Thirty-two seconds.

That was how long we had until the claw grabbed hold of Emma’s container. Until any hope of saving her was lost.

I spoke to my coworkers. “What should we do?”

Ceeron let out a low hum of uncertainty. “I do not know.”

More question marks filled SkD’s screen.

Time ticked away. We were down to twenty-eight seconds.

My system was overwhelmed by flashing lights/blaring alarms/warning messages. My internal drives were overheating. Too much was happening at once.

I disabled all the alerts. The distractions vanished. I returned my attention to the sealed container. My focus zoomed closer/closer/closer.

The locked door . . .

. . . slides on a metal track . . .

. . . that is attached by twenty screws.

I knew what to do.

I pointed to the metal track. “This is the weakest point. If I remove these screws, we might be able to loosen the door.”

SkD spun with excitement.

“Great idea!” Ceeron said.