Birds do not exterminate

It started nearly fifty years ago, but I remember it so clearly, it was so unexpected, so significant. 

“Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!” 

With these three words the Dalek fired a blast from its laser canon and Mr Gursel fell on the spot where he’d stood. He died quickly, though painfully, every cell in his body electrocuted. 

I had seen such sights so many times before, I’d grown up with them, such punishments were a norm; a worker who was too slow, who was late for work, or said something critical of the Dalek rule. The rules are the factory are so strict, and the punishment – well there was only one punishment possible, instant death by extermination. 

So, so far so normal, you’d think, nothing unusual about Gursel’s death. But then it happened. After firing the shot, the Dalek whirled away, straight into the bench in front of it. 

That may not sound strange, after all we humans all bang our foot from time to time, or lose our bearings, lose our step. But not the Daleks. I had witnessed the Daleks in action all of my life, the same Dalek, the one who ruled our region, and it had never made a false movement, its control was total, its movement smooth and controlled. For a Dalek to bang into a bench for no reason, with no confrontation beyond a simple extermination, was unprecedented, almost unimaginable. 

I rushed towards the Dalek. 

“Are you alright?” I said. “I’m an engineer, is there anything I can do to help. Your steering seemed to go awry.” 

“You are a human,” the Dalek said. “Daleks do not need assistance from humans. Our technology is beyond your comprehension.” 

The Dalek had a point. 

“I was just offering to help.” I said, suddenly worried, I didn’t want to get exterminated as a trouble-maker. 

The Dalek wheeled away, and the issue was not addressed again. I worked hard, quietly, avoiding attention, and in my spare time worked and studied hard on my engineering degree.  Over many years, I steadily rose through the ranks and became a key member of the workforce. 

The Dalek, meanwhile, continued to decline. Slowly, not at the rate humans decline. A human with a wasting condition deteriorates in a matter of months or years. With a Dalek, the process takes decades. From generation, a Dalek can expect to ‘live’ for thousands of years, but deep underneath the Dalekanium shell, lies a lifeform, a mortal.  In spite of the super-robot cos play the Daleks are not so different from us.  

Over the decades I watched the Dalek decline. There were more moments of loss of control. There was one time when the Dalek turned to address/electrocute an incompetent worker and rotated too far, like a child playing on a swivel chair, doing a full 360 degree circle before eventually firing its shot.  

Such moments were small, easily ignored, and did nothing to assist the errant worker, but I noticed.   

I noticed too that the Dalek struggled mentally. My Dalek ran a large sector of the country, not just my factory, but a dozen such enterprises, and was responsible for maintaining order in the region.  A task way beyond the ability of a human, it took 24/7 vigilance to police and manage an area of that size. Slowly, the Dalek’s control began to decline.  

Running a factory of the size and complexity of ours takes a great deal of effort, involving hundreds of workers, suppliers, transport and maintenance. In its prime, the Dalek made thousands of decisions every day in our factory alone, giving orders on every minutiae of production. But, as time passed, decisions began to be delegated. As chief engineer, I began to make my own decisions, at first very minor, moving a crate of supplies from the store room to the factory floor when we ran out.  

Over the years, as the Dalek declined, it started to rely on me more and more. At first for small things, stock control, training of maintenance staff, but my duties continued to grow, until I was responsible for everything from ordering tea supplies to recruiting replacements for exterminated workers.  Within a few years I began playing a similar managerial role in the other factories in the Dalek’s sector. 

I met with the Dalek daily, no longer taking orders, but giving updates on the decisions I had taken.  A nickname for me began to circulate across the factory, the Dalek’s wife. I never married, I never had time, and it was true, I spent more time with the Dalek than I did any human.  

The Dalek continued to decline, I took on more and more responsibilities, even training up managers to help me run the factories.  By the end, the Dalek could barely move, I had to seek him out.  I had to bring errant staff to him to be exterminated, as he could no longer tour the factory, his lost his flight function and could no longer get up the stairs. It didn’t have long left. As the one person that knew the Dalek well I tried to broach the inevitable ending. 

“I saw a bird today,” I said. “It was dying, but slowly, it had been attacked by a predator and was writhing in pain, a slow, agonising death. So I took a stone and caved its head in.” 

“You are making a metaphor,” the Dalek said. “You think that the bird is like me, but birds do not exterminate.” 

“They don’t, but they do feel pain.” 

“You plan to kill me with a stone?” 

“Metaphorically, yes. Though I would need another way. Is there a way?” 

I was met by silence. A long silence.  

Finally the Dalek spoke. 

“There is a neural valve connection between the environment chamber containing my Kaled core and the Dalek mainbrain. This keeps me ‘alive’.” 

“What does it look like?” I said, looking the Dalek up and down. 

“It is inside me. I will need to raise my dome. The neural valve is the red, oblong valve at the rear. If you remove the valve my connection with the Dalek mainbrain will cease and with it my life.” 

“I see,” I said. 

“But you will also die,” the Dalek said. “Any attempt to attack the connection with the mainbrain will result in instant death.” 

“I see,” I said. 

“Do you wish to proceed?” the Dalek said. 

“Proceed,” I said. “I am getting old too. Soon I will be like the bird.” 

The Dalek’s dome slowly began to rise. 

I gazed into the Dalek’s internal core. 

“I can see the neural valve,” I said.  

“Then proceed.” 

“What is the green valve on the right?” 

“It is irrelevant. It is my connection to the Pathweb, the Dalek hivemind.” 

I took my data stick and connected it to the green valve. 

“What have you done?” the Dalek said, in sudden panic. 

What I had done was to upload a virus to the Dalek mainframe.  

I pressed send on the message on my phone. Rebel forces all over the Earth would know that the Daleks had been immobalised. Whether it would be long enough we didn’t know, but after centuries of occupation this was our first chance to fight back. The revolution would start here.  

I had fulfilled my life’s goal. The last thing I heard was a sound I had heard so many times before. 

“Exterminate! Exterminate!” 

But it was too late. My life’s work had been accomplished.