Two white eyes blinked in a world of black, their soft glow painting the barest outline of Bob’s metallic head. His footfalls sent an eerie echo across the otherwise empty room. He stopped, a shuffle and click bringing a quartet of overhead bulbs to life. Bob stood at the entrance of a makeshift gym - two tired treadmills faced a mirrored wall to his left; an assortment of dumbbells, Swiss balls, yoga mats, and a lopsided laundry hamper filled the space to his right. Bob’s eyes locked on a pink, rectangular object that rested on a rickety plastic table in front of him - an aged, overused CD player.

A stack of equally worn CD cases rested beside it, from which Bob made his selection. He tapped a button atop the CD player and it yawned to reveal a translucent disc, covered in faded neon purple scribbles. Out it came, replaced by Bob’s choice - a white CD with the words "Derek’s mega mix" scrawled in lime green. Bob shut the lid, pushed the play button, and made his way to the closest treadmill.

The irresistible 80s pop intro of Cyndi Lauper’s Girls Just Wanna Have Fun filled the room. Bob stepped onto the treadmill, his robotic shoulders bobbing in time with the beat. He waved at himself in the mirror and tapped the machine’s faded plastic buttons, adjusting his steps as the speed gradually increased. The song’s intro reached its crescendo and Bob began his duet with Cyndi.

"I come home, in the morning light. My mother says when you gonna live your life ri-ight? Oh mother dear we’re not the fortunate ones, and girls they wanna have fu-un. Ohhh girls just wanna have fuuuuun." Bob reached a medium jog and removed his finger from the button.

"The phone rings, in the middle of the night. My faaaather-"

The music cut out, Bob left singing a Scottish acapella. He peered over his shoulder to find Nina, all grown up at 24 years of age, sporting short cropped hair, Derek’s Bowie tee, and cream-coloured cotton short shorts. She plucked Bob’s disc from the player, the tip of her finger through its central hole. She pointed at him with the same finger.

"I warned you."

"That was Madonna."

"Same goes for Cyndi." She placed the CD back in its case with the utmost care. "In fact, I’m revoking your DJ privileges indefinitely."

She dropped the purple-covered CD back into the open player, slammed the lid shut, and punched play. The gentle strumming of the Pixies’ hit, Where is my Mind?, rolled from the speakers. Nina sauntered across the room behind Bob, her head shaking to the drums. She claimed the spare treadmill and shook her head in Bob’s direction until he looked her way, her finger finding the increase speed button.

"Today you lose, Bobarino," she uttered, matching his speed before racing past it.

"When will you learn? You cannot outrun me."

"Keep up, old man."

"I do not age either."

"Your joints get stiff, same as mine."

This shut him up, and he tapped his own buttons to catch up with her.

--

Nina snatched a dry towel from the laundry hamper, gave it a solid sniff, and mopped her sweat-sodden face. She shook her hair and dabbed the towel on her chest before hitting the hamper with a 3-pointer. Bob continued to sprint on his treadmill, the pounding of his rapid feet the only sound in the room. Nina pulled the damp Bowie shirt over her head and tossed it at him. Bob twisted and caught it, never breaking his stride. Typical, she thought, picking a loose thread from her black sports bra.

"I’ll be in the lab, if you get tired."

Bob tapped the treadmill button and slid off the back, landing smoothly on the gym floor as though he’d barely been walking. He joined Nina in a few long strides and hit the wall switch as they exited together.

"Chemistry or physics?" he said.

"How will I ever decide?"

Bob continued straight down the corridor, but Nina ducked to the right and into the AV room. With a hop, step, and jump, she flopped onto a tattered sofa, collecting the remote control from a side table made of welded metal. She retrieved another tee from the edge of the sofa; this one dating back to The Cure’s 1986 Beach Party tour, a neon impression of lead singer Robert Smith staring out with hands on hips. She slipped it over her head and nestled in as she brought the projector to life.

Up on the screen, the golden Universal Pictures logo bent around an animated Earth, complemented by the constant hum of crickets. The screen faded to black, the words "Universal Pictures Presents" appearing in an orange to white faded typeface with a thin red inlay. The words faded out, replaced with "An Amblin Entertainment Production". Nina snuggled deeper into the sofa as the film’s iconic title emerged: Jurassic Park. She hugged a cushion as rustling leaves filled the screen. Behind her, Bob shuffled into the room.

"This is not scientific study, Nina."

"Nonsense. This is a biological documentary," she said, eyes firmly on the film. "With the odd sprinkle of chemistry and physics. It’s actually quite the scientific mother lode."

"It is pseudoscience at best, cheap entertainment at worst."

"Spielberg is a cinematic god, Bob, and I won’t hear you say otherwise."

A loud thump made her jump. On screen, a man struggled as his legs were dragged into a cage by an unseen creature. As the unlucky victim’s life slipped away, a park warden, Robert Muldoon, cried "Shoot her!" over and over.

"Genius," Nina said as she patted the space beside her.

Bob slumped next to her, claiming his dedicated position of the last 17 years. Of all the films that adorned the wall before them, Jurassic Park was without doubt Nina’s favourite. This was screening number two hundred and eleven by Bob’s count, yet Nina accepted every frame as though it were their first. She leaned forward to examine an ancient mosquito, trapped in a block of solidified amber. Suddenly she grabbed the remote control and paused the film.

"Do you think that’s actually possible?" She stood up and ogled the screen, running her hand across the frozen mosquito. "I mean, I know this is a work of fiction, but could they really extract dino DNA from a million-year-old mosquito? Theoretically speaking."

"Theoretically? No."

"What makes you so certain?"

"Science."

"Bah. Next you’ll tell me Marty couldn’t actually travel back in time to make out with his mum."

"Time travel is not possible either."

Nina poked her tongue at him and laughed, bouncing back onto the sofa. She collected the remote and prodded Bob with it.

"You’re a robot."

"Very observant of you."

"Built by humans."

"Evidently."

"Neither of us have ever seen the surface, never experienced the real world. Our entire education consists of what my parents programmed into you, and what this magnificent media library has gifted us."

"Well, yes, I suppose that is true."

Nina paced across the room to the rows of paperback books. She retrieved one - Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. She flipped through the pages briefly then tossed it to Bob. His right hand shot up and snatched it with ease.

"So who’s to say one of these books isn’t non-fiction, rather than fantasy? Perhaps there really are men, wizards, dwarves and orcs duking it out up there, while we chill in our hobbit hole below the surface?"

"That is highly improbable."

Bob considered the cover of the book as Nina walked her fingers along more paper spines. She stopped, close to the end, and removed another tattered title. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. She held it up for Bob to see.

"Or maybe the world is overrun with billions of Dr Frankenstein’s monsters." She monster-walked straight past Bob, arms stretched before her, and dropped the book in his lap. "My parents created you, after all. And humanoid robots feature pretty heavily in science fiction, yet here you sit, in the flesh. So to speak."

Bob blinked, a blank face the only response he could manage. Nina crouched before a huge wooden chest and popped its rusted latch. The lid squeaked like a hungry hamster as she lifted and rested it against the wall. Inside, a treasure trove of well-maintained tools filled the chest. There was a wooden-handled hammer, shiny stainless steel spanners and screw drivers, bundles of rope - thick, thin, plain and colourful - plastic boxes overflowing with nails and screws, and beneath it all, a heavy canvas backpack. Nina gripped the backpack’s visible strap and wrestled it from the clutches of the tools. She stood and scrutinized it for an age, patting it down, pulling its corners, and testing the straps. Bob watched as she swung the bag over her shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

"As the walrus said, Bob, the time has come."

"To return to the lab? Yes, I quite agree."

"Not quite."

She tightened the straps and jogged on the spot, her arms swinging high and fast.

"Another workout? I suggest you eat first, your energy is likely depleted from this morning’s session."

"Wrong again, Bob."

Nina removed the backpack and knelt beside the chest. She gathered the hammer, a Phillips and flat-head screwdriver, and half a dozen spanners. She also collected a bundle of rope, but as it rose from the chest it brought with it a bird’s nest of knotted threads. Nina sat on the carpet and began plucking at the various lines. Bob left the sofa and stood over her.

"We’re bustin’ out of this joint."

"You mean to breach the surface?"

"Like it’s never been breached before," she said, her fingertips fighting a particularly stubborn strand of teal twine.

"We don’t know if it’s safe out there."

"We don’t know it’s not."

She lowered the rope and met his gaze.

"We don’t know anything about out there, Bob. But what I do know, is the time for living like antisocial moles is over. There could be dinosaurs, dragons, dwarves, or demons roaming the Earth. Whatever the outcome, I’m going up."

"Even if it means death?"

"Better to live a little than not at all."

Nina pulled the thickest rope free and shoved it into the open bag.

--

Bob’s blinding eyes lit up the inner wall of the manhole. He stepped inside and tilted his head back, sending two beams up and into the inky abyss above. Crunchy footsteps echoed up the manhole as Nina came to a stop behind him. She stood there in the doorway, sporting a helmet remarkably similar to the night vision goggles seen in Jurassic Park. In fact, these bore the exact same colouring - green camouflage on the body, yellow casing around the black eye holes. A green-tinted Bob looked back at Nina.

"What are you waiting for?" Nina said.

"It’s a long climb."

"A fear of heights isn’t in your programming."

"No, but there may be unidentified structural damage above. If I fell, I would surely crush you as we hit the ground. Perhaps you should take the lead."

"Or you could just not fall on me."

Nina pushed him into the manhole and shut the door behind her, killing the corridor’s additional light.

"If there is structural damage, or if something heavy lies on top of the lid, I won’t be able to shift it. That’s why you’re going first."

"As you wish."

Bob took hold of the first rung and began to climb, his eyes scanning the walls and upcoming rungs carefully. Nina waited for him to reach high enough before following, her canvas backpack hung low on her back. This is it, she thought. After 24 years of underground living, she’d finally see what the rest of the world had to offer. Would it be worth it? Would there even be a world? And could she survive? And what of her mother? Her body was never found down here, so maybe, just maybe she had found a life worth living somewhere else. Nina had learned to repress such thoughts over the years, but here it was, giving her a twinge of hope and a whole lot of pain. She hugged the next rung tight as her head spun. If she had escaped the shelter on that fateful day, if she was still alive after all these years, would Nina be able to find her? Would she even want to?

"Nina?"

Bob’s charming voice tugged her back to this moment. She loosened her grip and looked up into his eyes, blinking to adjust to the sudden brightness.

"Carry on, Bob. This tunnel is the least exciting place we’ll see today!"

Bob watched her a moment longer before continuing his ascent. Nina shook her head and squinted. Hard. Rogue tears escaped, but were quelled quickly by the back of her hand. She snatched the next rung and focused on nothing but the word ’up’. After twenty minutes of monotonous climbing, Bob’s hand connected with the underside of the dense steel lid. He tapped it with his carbon fibre knuckle, sending a metallic thud echoing down the length of the manhole.

"The lid’s integrity remains. However, the seal appears to have hardened with time."

"So cut it open, Tin Man."

"I still recommend we assess the pros and cons of departure. At least once more."

"My arms are tired, Bob. If you waste another minute on your precious pros and cons I might just tumble to my loud and goretastic death."

Bob nodded reluctantly and raised his left index finger until it was an inch away from the lid’s seal. The tip of his finger snapped backwards, and a blazing blue laser cut through the seal’s surface. Taking his time, Bob moved his finger around 80% of the lid’s outer rim, the laser slicing right through. He flipped his fingertip back into place and braced his palm beneath the section of the lid that he had cut free.

"When you are ready, Nina."

Outside. The real world. Endless possibilities flooded Nina’s imagination - some wonderful, some too terrifying to dwell upon. She shut her eyes. Deep breaths. A pair of faces faded into view. Young and full of hope. Derek and Mags smiled down on her, as healthy and happy as when she was 6. Nina opened her eyes and focused on Bob’s hand. Her own fingers found the side of her goggles and pressed a button twice, killing the night vision and reducing her sight drastically.

"Ready as I’ve ever been."

Bob pressed a little harder on the lid and it spat out a faint cracking sound. He tensed his arm and pushed up, easing the lid higher in tiny increments. As he did, Nina caught her first glimpse of true daylight as it winked into the manhole. She felt electric, her twitchy muscles threatening to throw her off the ladder. Deep breaths. Bob bent the lid all the way back, heaven’s chandelier bathing them in a warm glow.

At last, they were free.

Next Chapter: CHAPTER 3