Even Death Must Die comes to us from Miguel Angel Lopez Muñoz. Miguel was born and lives in Madrid, Spain. He has a Bachelor’s degree in Mathematics with a Master’s degree in Quantum Cryptography. He writes fantasy, science fiction and horror and has won awards like the UPC of science fiction Award (in 2006 and again in 2024), and published books related to those three genres. He has been published in Bag of Bones, where he won the “206 Word Story” call, Microverses and Coffin Bell. He is a big fan of video games, transformers and board games, and you can follow his posts on these three topics on his Instagram @magnus_dagon

Miguel’s wonderful story has been [mistakenly] rejected by: Analog, Andrómeda Spaceways, and Ápex Magazine

When asked what he loves about this story, this was his response:

What I like most about this story is that it deals with a subject I don’t often talk about, which is religion. But it deals with it from a point of view that I really like, which is mythology (mythological stories, especially Greek ones, are among those with which I have won the most literary competitions).

I also really like the story from a narrative point of view, as there isn’t much dialogue but somehow the plot isn’t overloaded with descriptions, and also from a visual point of view, with veiled suggestions that focus on the aesthetic tone of the Great Temple and its hard-working builders.

Even Death Must Die by Miguel Angel Lopez

On rainy days, when it was my turn to descend from the tower, I saw the black clouds full of pollution. These same clouds, thick and dark like a great sea, yet dense and soft as velvet, forced us to ascend higher, banishing us from the promised land and made us gods to them — although I doubt the heavens would have wanted someone like me.

            I secured my suit and checked the air cylinder, preparing for the exit to the outside as the glassed-in elevator reached the lowest level. As a precautionary measure, so that my appearance would not be observed from below, the exit at the base of the tower was slightly electrified to clear the area of curious androids. In my opinion, although at the time such a custom may have been of some use, by then they were no longer looking for me, but merely awaiting my arrival. That is understandable. We don’t go looking for her either; we just wait for her to arrive when the time is right. Human culture has represented her sometimes as a faithful friend, sometimes as an executioner of souls; but always as someone we want to have far away.

            According to the reports I had received from the tower technicians, the android I was supposed to bring back had been split in two by one of the mechanical saws in charge of shaping the rocky terrain. In the middle of the downpour I arrived at the factory area, the robots making way for me, looking at me with devotion or fear. But for the first time since I had that macabre function I noticed that some robots were looking at me with a defiant attitude, a brave gesture considering that in the mystical terrain, I was a personification of the end of all living beings, and in the physical terrain, I was twice as tall as any of them.

            I arrived at the place where the disabled robot was and there I found, as it always used to happen, the protective android. It was a robot like the others, but equipped with accessories whose only purpose was to imitate, in a misunderstood way, the accessories of my artificial breathing suit. It looked at me and pointed to what I was looking for.

            “Hello, B33MH,” I said, without any tone in my voice.

            “Welcome, deity Ben,” the android replied solemnly. “We knew you would come.”

            The first time I introduced myself to the androids and told them my name, they decided to anticipate it with the deity treatment. At first I tried to force them to simply call me by my name, but to no avail. To them my name was something as imperishable as space or time.

            “What happened?”  I asked calmly.

            “It was an accident, my lord. It got too close to the saw.”

            “I want the androids who handle saws to stay farther away from them. There’s no need to take such risks.”

            “But sir, that way it will take longer to complete the Great Temple of the deities.”

            “The Great Temple can wait, B33MH. Your safety is more important to me now.”

            “So it shall be done, my lord.”

            I pulled out a tractor beam and put all the pieces of the fallen robot together then placed it in a box of darkness, a handy collapsible container that for robots must have been little less than a coffin. I carried it in both hands with as much respect as I could muster for my actions. B33MH looked at me, fulfilling the function its kind had bestowed upon it, to be a living witness to my actions, and asked me, as it always did, to accompany me back to my kingdom.

            “When it is your time, you will come with me. But first you must not,” I said simply, hoping to settle a matter that was not open to discussion.

            “What will become of our companion, deity Ben? Will it, like the others, have access to your kingdom?”

            “They all have,” I replied. “You can stop worrying about it. It is at peace with itself and everyone else now.”

            “You’re lying!” said another of the androids behind me. Despite my surprise, none of the androids noticed the slightest hesitation on my part. The suit, which they considered part of my own organism, helped.

            “Why do you say that, C22RD?” I asked, trying to appear as calm as possible.

            “I don’t believe you are a deity. You may be powerful, but you are something else. And I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

            I kept quiet. Everyone was waiting for me to speak. I had to give them the opposite. I had to make it seem that my motivations were impossible for their perishable metallic bodies to conceive.

            In response to the silence, C22RD spoke again.

            “I will prove to everyone that you are a plastic god.”

            I turned and walked away, oblivious to its comments, as if I could not hear them. Although I didn’t turn around at any point I know that all the robots were waiting for a reaction that would clarify how I felt about those direct attacks. Instead, I gave them uncertainty. It was the only thing I could give them, for it was the only thing I harbored at that moment.

#

            Now, remembering that day, I know that many things had to happen to get to that point. At the beginning I was a mere observer, just another technician with the only incentive of maintaining direct contact with the androids. It was a poorly paid job and not without its dangers; I would arrive in my suit, take the defective models with me when they stopped working, check a couple of systems to verify programming guidelines, and supervise the progress of the domes that would one day house us. But little by little they began to invest more in such construction, as humanity as a whole began to believe hopefully that this would be the solution, that truly someday the metal slaves would complete a cupular world isolated from the toxic emanations of the clouds. The Great Temple, as they now call it. Paradise on Earth. It is the only one of their biblical expressions that I do not consider exaggerated. Not that the towers were bad to live in, but home, no matter how many generations pass, is still home. It is written as one more mark on our genetic will until there is no way to overlook it.

            It was around those days that I began to think of androids as more than just machines and they began to think of me as something… metahuman. It was always ensured that they didn’t know the truth of their existence, that they would simply work in exchange for having watchmen looking out for their safety. It was never really slavery. It took me a while to realize it, but our situation was very similar to that of the gods in ancient times. They worked convinced that in a way they were honoring unquestionable beings. We were giving them resources, technological help and renewing their population, for them this was greatest gift that we could ever bestow. The only difference with the Greek or Egyptian gods was that we humans did exist and were actually trying to protect them.

            Without missing a beat, the robots were working out answers to questions we did not at first imagine they could ask.

            When the extent of their perception became clear, our superiors decided to specialize us so that they would have a whole legion of creatures and symbols to worship. Thus, from the point of view of the androids, the deity John was in charge of bringing new life among the robots, the opposite of my function; the deity Robin was in charge of the proper functioning of the lesser machines and the deity Carl was in charge of quelling revolts. The relationships we might have with each other and our working style formed a whole complex mythological imaginary for the robots. Thus, for example, for them living and dying were twin processes that for a time were simultaneously hosted by both deities until they decided to arrive on their own to attend to their personal affairs among the non-eternals. Something so complex to explain that my turn and John’s simply ceased to coincide.

            At first we were given instructions and courses so as not to disrupt the pantomime they had so carefully worked out for themselves. In my particular case I was advised to provoke in them the same panic of death that most humans experience. They showed me a multitude of allegorical images, and made hundreds of suggestions about how I should express myself and move in front of them. But I didn’t want or intend to be a clear-cut symbolic thing, I didn’t want to be the quivering thought of those wretched metal entities. For God’s sake, I was an engineer, not Machiavelli or Milton. I believed in knowledge, not in turning the headboard upside down to ward off evil spirits. So I ignored all ethical and aesthetic advice and stuck to my own script. No ankh, no scythe, no huge wings full of eyes. If they must live in the shadows, I thought, I’ll make those shadows a little more pleasant place.

            Sometimes I wish that beings more intelligent than me would burst into my life and, by means of complicated artifices and subtle orchestrations, would suddenly restore the beliefs I had lost so long ago. That an angel would come from the heavens and tell us all, yes, there is life after death, neither emptiness nor nothingness awaits you. That he would disprove all my suspicions. That is what I tried to give to the androids. The hope of continuity against all logic of nature. If in doing so I was right, they would thank me after all; if I was wrong, then they would never feel cheated because wherever they were they would feel no joy, no sadness, no hate, no pain, no nothing. The truth is that it often torments me to think that they might have a chance and we might not. That those who are no longer operative look at me from somewhere we fail to understand and pity me, their false crystal idol, full of doubts and uncertainties, then accuse me, with pointed finger, of behaving as a giver of something that I am not even capable of receiving.

            Not all the idolized technicians shared my point of view, of course. It’s amazing how much misery man is capable of when given the opportunity. Carl Tinerch, the man in charge of quelling riots, enjoyed his task with psychopathic pleasure. He must have been the kind of kid who chased cats on tower roofs with neural lasers. Although the other technicians despised him, they did not feel the same animosity toward him as I did, partly because their job was not to palliate his excesses or to restore the delicate balance between good and evil in the robot pantheon. One fine day I decided to send the balance to hell and descended before my turn with the healthy intention of giving Tinerch a little thrashing in front of the robots, a fight that they added to their list of mythical events, with the sole intention of stopping his cruel slaughter. I made all the robots present promise that there would never be a similar revolt.

            The superiors reprimanded me and reduced my salary, arguing that I might have broken Tinerch’s suit, which is otherwise absolutely true. However, I was not dismissed from my position. They knew I was important down there, and that was not to be changed. The riots, however, soon broke out again. Many robot sympathizers defended their position by saying that there was no society down there. I agree with them on that; the problem is that they thought that had been the intention at some point in the experiment, a kind of peaceful coexistence between creators and creations. I was quickly disillusioned. Anyway, I prefer to see robots as individuals rather than as a mass. Their collective destiny is beyond my capabilities even if I pretended otherwise.

            But that day, at that moment, with the box of darkness in my hands and returning until I was lost in the heights that no android would ever know, I knew that something else was going to happen. I had the same cold feeling as when I went down to hit Tinerch, only that I was no longer the trigger of the events. And sure enough, something happened. C22RD made good on its threats, but not in the way I would have expected.

#

            I had just arrived on the observation floor from my own home. I hadn’t even had time to eat, so I was about to grab the first piece of crap I could find in the vending machines. I was already heading for the one in the hallway with the idea that everything it would have would be out of date when John Redfer signaled me to come in.

            “What’s wrong, Johnny?” I said, not hiding my concern. John would never have bothered me off shift unless it was for something serious.

            “We haven’t received a signal from C22RD since yesterday, and the cameras can’t find it. The last we heard, it was headed for the Grand Temple base.”

            Sometimes among ourselves we used the same religious jargon that the androids themselves, mostly for practical reasons. I walked over to the monitors and made a mental note of the coordinates of the area.

            “I’m going down,” I said as I approached the closet and put on my suit. “I have a bad feeling.”

            “Do you want me to come down with you?”

            “Thank you, John, but I think you’d better not. I’m afraid we’re facing a crisis of ideals. I’ve got to solve this one on my own.”

            “What do I do if Tinerch comes? This looks like his business.”

            “Give him my regards,” I replied, leaving the air cylinder in hand.

            When I reached the edge of the dome, which was already at an advanced stage, I noticed that all the robots were looking at me impatiently. It didn’t take me long to see why. There, where the cameras could not reach because it was normal for new tunnels to be opened every day, was the body of C22RD, motionless and guarded by two other androids. I bent down to get through the tunnel and take it away, but they blocked my way.

            “It was right. You didn’t get there to take it because you wouldn’t be able to find it in time. Its sacrifice was not in vain.”

            I came out of the tunnel to return to the ditch again and met the protective android. It looked frightened.

            “My lord, you were late in coming.”

            “I came as soon as I could, B33MH. As you well know, there are many things I have to take care of.”

            “But this poor wretch, my lord… will no longer receive rest in your kingdom, for several cycles have passed since your last arrival.”

            “It’ll be able to rest like the others, you don’t have to worry about it.”

            Suddenly an android hit me with a stone and broke a tube of the suit. Fortunately it was not serious, but B33MH did not interpret it that way. It activated the tunneling machines and buried the android. I was witnessing the first display of artificial violent fanaticism in history, as well as the first robot suicide. I was really going to have a lot of explaining to do when I got to the surface.

            If I made it, that is.

            Several more androids stoned me until one of them finally hit a carbon dioxide processing tube. The malfunction was not total, but I had to get back to the tower as soon as possible or I would die without remedy as soon as I was exposed to the noxious gases. I grabbed as best I could both the body of the buried android and the body of C22RD and took them away without even having time to use darkness boxes. Some robots began to chase me, and although their stones hardly hurt me, they would soon end up breaking another tube and write a black chapter in their particular myths. After a while, however, Tinerch appeared in his armored suit. Despite hating him and his methods, I was glad of his presence. He merely put a smokescreen between them and us to slow them down, because to the robots, the smoke from the Carl deity carried evil effects on the circuits. I guess he didn’t attack them because he knew that under no circumstances would I be sent to ground level again right after the incident and then it would be his turn to pick up the robots he slaughtered. I was always curious how the androids would have interpreted that.

            My superiors decided that for a couple of days it would be wise for me not to go back down, with John taking over my job. The two days became a week and the week became a month. Finally I was announced that I could no longer go down again. There were enough robots who didn’t believe in me to make my descents dangerous, but I should train my replacements to learn how to do my job in every way imaginable.

            It didn’t work out. None of the substitutes were admitted by the robot community, thinking of them as heretics, as impostors. Part of the fault was that the new ones always tried to be very theatrical, very lyrical, so as to instill awe in them and hold them in check. The experience, at least, helped me to understand that when you want to gain the respect of someone, whether human or robot, you can do it from the path of equality or from the path of superiority, but the second path will never make you truly respected. Feared, adored. But not really respected.

            I seem to remember that after I was relieved of my position I was angry with the androids for having spurned the opportunity I had given them to reconcile their fears of dying. I suppose it is true that it was a beautiful gift, but it is also true that they never asked me for it. Perhaps I should have let them learn for themselves, freed them from that vicious circle that had formed around them, secretly lectured them on how terrible life really was, that they were less than nothing, the offspring of an imperfect culture and race that did not know for itself its own end. That we were not giving them the chance to exist but that it was precisely the opposite. That if there were gods it should be them.

            One fine day, thirty years later, I decided to ask for permission to descend again. I knew I would have no problem in getting approval, and I was curious to see with my own eyes the evolution of the Great Temple, now almost completed. It was fortunate that this happened, because all the technicians were already quite old, and if it was impossible to replace me at the time, it would be even more impossible to do it with all of them at the same time.

            When I descended I noticed how there was a lot of commotion everywhere. Most of the androids did not have to work too hard because of the little that remained to be done, a fact that they had interpreted as the advent of the new order. My arrival only compounded that feeling. That the deity Ben was descending from the heavens again after thirty years was for them an indication that we were very satisfied.

            I wanted to tell them that the reality was that as soon as the dome was finished hundreds of men in armored suits, hundreds of Carl deities, would descend to disconnect them all, by hook or by crook, and melt them down to become part of the Great Temple structure, but I refused to do so. I’m sure they would have managed to concoct some sort of pseudo-Buddhist narrative to justify such an action. A nirvana to which to throw their last prayers.

            The people upstairs had asked me to check that the air levels were correct as I was going down, so I went into the huge, diaphanous dome and took out the measuring instruments. When I had finished, I noticed an old android approaching me, barely able to move, but still able to operate certain devices such as hydraulic cranes. It was B33MH.

            “My lord, you have returned. I have waited so long…”

            At that moment I was sure that, if robots could cry, it would have done so.

            “I have returned, yes. But I must tell you — it is not for long.”

            “Why did you leave us? Some of us were still faithful to you.”

            “I ceased to be necessary, B33MH. Even we must retire when the time comes. Come closer.”

            The android came as fast as it could until it was in front of me. Then I removed the helmet from my suit very slowly. For the robot that must have been a mystical experience like no other.

            “I just want you to know that, believe it or not, deep down we are just like you. We have fears. We doubt our final destiny. I know you will never say it, that’s why I share it with you.”

            “Is that true, my lord?”

            I put the helmet on the ground, so that it would be clear that it was not part of myself.

            “Even Death must die,” I said, my aged face uncovered.