Get ready for a thrilling ride into a future where robots and humans clash for control in RoboNomics, the updated and refreshed version of the 2013 sci-fi classic.
In Toronto, elementary school teacher Andrea Anderson's world crumbles when she's rep...
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"You ready?" Elizabeth asks us as she adjusts the strip of red that obscures her face. She looks around and I take her cue, adjusting the mask on my own face.
The group that surrounds me is made up mostly of strangers. More of these unfamiliar faces - the Anti-Automation League - will join us on the way as we march from Elizabeth's apartment to the courtyard outside the two wing-like metallic buildings that were once the pride of Toronto: city hall.
I recognize only a few faces: Shari, Joe, and Oz, as well as Alexa from the original Movement. It makes me less fearful about striking out on my own and leaving Austin behind.
"I'm going with you," he'd insisted. But Elizabeth protested immediately.
"This could turn hairy," she said - the expression not quite capturing the deep dangers of the day ahead of us. "We just found you and your the League's only doctor. We can't lose you."
"I could be a field medic, sort of," he argued. I winced at his use of a term so tied to governments and their mechanisms. Either way, it didn't work.
"We can't put you in harm's way," Elizabeth insisted.
"But what if someone's injured? They might need help right away."
"You'll have to work on them here. We'll meet back up, bring everyone if we can. You're just too valuable. You need to stay put."
I saw the logic in her argument and know that he did as well. But as he turned and stormed off, flexing his knuckles in frustration, I realized that his argument came from a place of wanting to be with me when the going gets tough. To make sure that I come back okay.
"He'll be fine," I tell Elizabeth.
"And what about you? Can we rely on you tomorrow?"
"Just tell me what to do."
"Find the bots. Tear out their circuitry like you told me you can."
"That was anger. I couldn't control –"
"Oh, you'll be plenty angry. Just look at that asshole and you'll have what you need. Better yet, blast the guts right out of those things. Don't bother using your hands."
She proceeded to give me a half hour tutorial on the use of a black gun-like box that could blast a targeted EMP at the bots and disable them.
When she finished, there was nothing else for me to do but try to sleep and restlessly agonize over the events of the day to come, including seeing Chris in person for the first time in months.
Now, readied with my black anarchist uniform, EMP blaster and red bandanna, I look like one of the crew.
The sound of us is impressive as our heavy, second hand black boots clomp down the narrow staircase and out onto the street. There, others join us as we make our way down Bloor Street from High Park towards the center of town.
