Autonomy: Part Two

The Black Country was one of the places that was hit directly by a nuclear warhead during the war. As a result, a huge chunk of land stretching from Bloxwich to Blackheath and Great Barr to Dudley was annihilated entirely. For anyone who isn’t familiar with these world-renowned locations, it’s about 29 square miles between them all.

The walk past Bloxwich towards Newverhampton along the A4124 was, to put it mildly, depressing. Even CF6’s interest in most anything he could see began to waver as the group trudged through mile after mile of desolate concrete and dirt. Rows and rows of levelled houses adorned the sides of the road, huge estates that used to be full of life and laughter and joy (or as much as could be expected in the suburbs). Skeletons scattered the pavements, frozen in time on the way back from the corner shop to grab some crème fraîche because a stroganoff can’t be made with milk for crying out loud! God, it was depressing wasn’t it.

The group rambled along the A4124 until they found Newverhampton. It had miraculously survived a fair chunk of the nuclear blast and as the party got closer to the city limits, the skeletons grew less frequent and the levelled houses less levelled. “Have you got any history of Newverhampton?” inquired CF6 to SUSIE. SUSIE didn’t, there wasn’t any mention of Newverhampton in her audiobook collection. 

“I think it used to be called Wolverhampton,” Biff claimed. “They renamed it New Wolverhampton; Newverhampton for short. I visited here a few times on a job with some other skips, it was always great fun. CW would always try to scare humans who walked past her outside the YMCA on Temple Street. I wonder what happened to her.” Biff paused for a moment before continuing. “Damn, I’m glad to stretch my wheels again, Bakewell was getting so boring.” Biff took in a deep breath and yelled “Freedom!” to the sky. CF6 copied him, not quite sure of what freedom meant. It felt good to yell it, though.

Nelly leaned into SUSIE. “That reminds me SUSIE, we need to be quick while we're here. Get back to looking for the Johnsons as soon as we can. I’m worried we’re getting too distracted.” SUSIE calmed Nelly’s concerns. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about them.” This was a lie. SUSIE had begun to forget about the Johnsons. “I promise we’ll be fast.” This was also a lie. 

The outskirts of Newverhampton were guarded by a crude wall of corrugated iron. Nelly looked up at the sign above their heads. Welc me to Newverhampton. “I wonder if they’ll have any fans here?” she thought. The four machines trudged through a front gate and into the city. Well, it was less of a city and more of a large collection of stick and mud houses, many of which were crudely constructed and drooping heavily.

“I wonder why the humans made houses out of sticks,” pondered Biff. “They’re not very good for keeping out acid rain.” SUSIE tried her best to explain. “Well, throughout history, humans mainly made houses out of sticks. There was a biography about three pigs that explained the origin if I recall correctly.” CF6 listened intently and proceeded to retell the story many a time throughout the rest of the trip.

There was not a human in sight in Newverhampton. The party rummaged through the stick houses, with SUSIE explaining to CF6 the classical “three pig” method of construction. Nelly gave up looking for a fan after a few hours, and after finding a half-destroyed clothes-hut, instead opted to stare at herself in a cracked mirror. She even dragged CF6 along to put different outfits on her.  Nelly eventually settled on a tartan-designed scarf which she wrapped around her temperature knobs. CF6 told her it looked great on her. “The colours pair well with your temperature probe.” Nelly smiled at the compliment as she checked herself out in the mirror one last time. She was beginning to enjoy herself more as the trip went on.

Biff took a huge number of items from various houses. As the group got to know him, they realised he was something of a kleptomaniac. Every time they stopped somewhere, he was sure to find at least half a dozen things to store away inside him. “Human artefacts,” he called them. Nelly and CF6 reckoned he was just a hoarder.

As the first night fell, SUSIE, Biff and Nelly decided that they would treat themselves and all sleep in the nicest stick house. SUSIE came across what she presumed was the former leader of Newverhampton’s house. “It’s slightly larger than the rest of the stick houses,” SUSIE reasoned. “Plus, it’s decorated.” SUSIE was right. The edges of the house were indeed adorned with a smattering of plastic flowers, and inside there was a slightly nicer straw and breeze block bed. However, the biggest giveaway that it was the leader of Newverhampton’s house was the sign above the door:

Leader of Newverhampton’s House.

The four of them settled in for the night, though Nelly couldn’t sleep thanks to the awful drone of Biff yawning. It sounded much like a skip being dragged along concrete. 

SUSIE didn’t get much sleep that night either; the creaks and moans of the raggedy stick houses were much scarier in the dark. In the end she put on a sleep story narrated by Stephen Fry IV, and tried to ignore the sounds.

As day broke, a tired SUSIE yawned that the gang should try and look for any signs of the Johnsons. “We need to be thorough and efficient,” explained SUSIE. “Newverhampton is a large and dangerous place, they could be anywhere right now. Everyone, keep your head on a swivel.” 

“But I don’t have a head?” said Nelly. 

“I meant more just keep alert. We don’t know what’s out there in the wilderness, and it’s important that we don’t lose our heads.” 

“But I don’t have a head,” repeated Nelly.  SUSIE gave up with the metaphors. “Just be careful.” Nelly nodded her not-head.

The search party tiptoed around the hundreds of stick houses that made up downtown Newverhampton, heeding SUSIE’s warnings about the potential dangers. However, now it was daytime again the creaking and moaning of the stick houses was far less intimidating, and before long the group had all split up to explore downtown Newverhampton.

SUSIE stumbled across a group of skeletons huddled in the corner of a worn-down stick house, along with the tattered remains of a diary. Through a fair bit of deduction and guesswork, as well as help from CF6, she summarised that Newverhampton had been something of a haven after the war. A few thousand survivors had huddled here to form a new micro-society, which had promptly imploded on itself (in more ways than one) when it was discovered the leader was hoarding mini nukes. Turns out the leader loved football and was a diehard Wolverhampton Wanderers fan. She planned to blow up West Bromwich for winning the last derby.

“I don’t understand why humans used nuclear weapons!” exclaimed SUSIE. “They never did learn from the Cold War.” CF6 asked why it was cold and SUSIE explained that it happened in the coldest time period of the last three centuries, before global warming had ruined the planet.

After night fell on the second day in Newverhampton, the gang agreed they’d seen all there was to see in Newverhampton and decided to start trekking south towards the Cotswolds. “I’m sure we had a reason why we were there beyond Nelly’s fan,” pondered SUSIE, though she couldn’t put her finger on what the reason was.

As the stars came out, the group set off, Nelly wrapped up in her tartan scarf and Biff full of “artefacts” from the town.  SUSIE warned them that the trek would take at least a day, as long as everyone was alright not stopping for a break. They all agreed to the terms.

The route down to the Cotswolds was arguably worse than the one into Newverhampton. It was just mile upon mile of bland, grey motorway with nothing of interest to look at. SUSIE put on Now That’s What I Call Music! 695 and the four of them sang in unison to ‘Fastest Car’ by Theresa Chapman as they tried to keep the boredom at bay.

Morning, then afternoon, then evening came and went, with SUSIE rapidly getting through the Now! collection of albums. The trek seemed to be never ending and Nelly began to complain that she wanted a break. SUSIE, though annoyed, agreed and they all stopped for a break in the Strensham services just before junction eight. After a short rest and a wander around W H Smith, during which CF6 and Nelly found an audio-chip containing a series of H. P. Lovecraft stories, the group collectively decided to detour off the motorway and head down some of the smaller roads. This was all in the hope that they could see something more interesting than abandoned cars and greyness. 

CF6 hopped into Biff at one point for a few miles. They’d detoured along a filthy dirt track and CF6 felt queasy at the thought of it clogging up his rollers. Nelly asked SUSIE to play the H. P. Lovecraft audio-chip, but CF6 demanded it be switched off after the first story. The rest of the journey he was a little more subdued, and checked every signpost for “Innsmouth”.

Finally, they saw a sign for the Cotswold District. “Let’s crack on,” said SUSIE above the collective cheer, now even more unsure as to why they were cracking on.

The first stop they made was Bibury, where SUSIE explained the beauty of the Cotswolds to Biff. Nelly lost interest and wandered off, though she struggled to shuffle herself along the cobbled streets on her sack truck. CF6 only half-listened to SUSIE talking about the Cotswolds, as he had stumbled across what looked to him like a big metal box. “Hey, any idea what this is?” he shouted back to SUSIE and Biff. The two of them wandered over to the box, which as it turned out was a homemade bomb shelter. Biff explained the purpose. “They were somewhere for humans to hide when other humans tried to blow them up. Mad if you ask me.” There was a big circular door that was slightly ajar, covered in rusty bolts and rivets. CF6 tentatively pulled it open and peered inside.

The shelter was cramped and dark, with a few busted lightbulbs hung around the edges. CF6 crept along the left-hand wall into the shelter, nozzle leading the way, as SUSIE followed. Biff had to stay outside as he was too large to fit, though not for lack of trying. His smashing and crashing ended up rendering CF6’s careful creeping somewhat redundant. CF6 continued into the darkness as Biff continued to bash into the front door, trying, figuratively and literally, to force a square peg into a round hole. 

“HELLO?” squawked a voice in the dark. SUSIE jumped and ‘I Drove All Night’ by Cindy Lauper started inadvertently playing from Mister Johnson’s collection of Road Trip Anthems.

“W- who’s there?” tentatively squeaked CF6.

“Me!” replied the disembodied voice.

“Who’s me?”

“Eh?”

“W- What’s your name?”

“Mike.” Mike’s voice was harsh and raspy. 

SUSIE managed to stumble across a torch in the darkness and shone it towards Mike’s voice. As it turned out, Mike was a Microwave.
“Oi, watch where ya shinin’ that thing,” moaned Mike.
“Sorry,” said SUSIE.
“What are ya doin’ in my home?” asked Mike. SUSIE shrugged as CF6 apologised for coating Mike in dust.
“I just get scared easily, you know.”

By this point Nelly had just about managed to re-join the group, having almost fallen off the sack truck at one point, and was looking at Mike with what could only be (and shouldn’t be) described as lust. Never in her life had Nelly seen such a beautiful appliance, 4000 watts of raw power encased in brushed aluminium and deep maroon buttons. She felt weak at the sack truck wheels. Mike and SUSIE continued their riveting discussion about why she was in his home and eventually got onto the topic of what they were doing in Bibury. “I need a new fan,” blurted out Nelly, whose complexion now matched Mike’s buttons.
“I gotta loada spare stuff in here if ya want any of it,” Mike said. “I like that scarf you’re wearin’. Tartan suits ya.” Nelly blushed harder.

CF6 and SUSIE proceeded to search around the bunker for a fan, rummaging through a huge collection of old electrical parts. Biff looked longingly through the door at the massive hoard of circuit boards and other computer paraphernalia, all perfect for his collection. He’d have licked his lips with excitement if he had any.

Eventually, CF6 and SUSIE found a shiny new fan as Mike and Nelly got better acquainted. Mike suggested that they stay for the night, which they all agreed to, bar Biff, who still couldn’t get through the front door. CF6 agreed to sleep outside with him to keep him company. Nelly suggested to SUSIE that she do the same. Nelly also suggested that it would be best if they shut the door while they all slept, so Mike could keep warm. CF6 found it odd that a microwave would need to keep warm. The following day, SUSIE, CF6 and Biff explored the sad remains of Bibury, while Nelly and Mike stayed in the shelter together. Most of the village was a crumbled mess covered in ash, lacking any sort of vegetation at all. A stark contrast to the intense trees and bushes of Bakewell. It was a shame noted SUSIE, considering that she had read that the Cotswolds used to be world-renowned for its lush nature and wildlife. 

At one point while they were strolling along the bank of the River Coln, they had a tense encounter with an unnaturally large and mutated horse. The beast had three eyes, and when SUSIE tried to measure it with her hands it started aggressively neighing and kicking at CF6. As it chased them through the village, CF6 questioned SUSIE’s methods of measurement. “Why on earth did you use your hands?!” asked CF6 as he dodged an attempt by the horse to take a bite out of his hose.

“It’s how the humans used to do it!” explained SUSIE.

“Well it’s no wonder most of them are extinct!”

The three appliances (though you or I may not consider a skip an appliance, Biff would argue that he most certainly was) managed to escape the horse by hiding in an old church. After they were sure the three-eyed horse had gone, they decided they may as well have a wander around. Biff remarked that the humans had an odd sense of decoration – most of the windows were painted. “There’s loads of wall space,” he remarked to himself.

SUSIE proceeded to try and explain the intricacies of religion to a talking vacuum cleaner. If they had remembered why they were in Bibury, SUSIE and CF6 may have recalled that the Johnsons were a deeply religious family. But by now the memory of the Johnsons was long gone, replaced with a new excitement about all the things they’d missed out on being stuck in a house for decades. Things like Bakewell tarts and tartan scarfs and scary mutated horses. Well, maybe that last one not so much. CF6 left the old church with a new understanding of religion. Biff left with a huge statue of Jesus.

Later in the afternoon, the three explorers regrouped at the bunker. “Guys, guys look, Mike and I installed my new fan!” Nelly did an awkward twirl on her sack truck and opened up her oven door. “Crikey, looks fancy,” exclaimed Biff. “I’m so glad you managed to find a new fan,” said CF6. Nelly thanked them all for helping her as they all embraced in a mishmash of temperature knobs and nozzles and speakers and wheels.

After the hug, Nelly asked SUSIE if Mike could join them all on the road trip. The answer was a resounding yes – after all, the more appliances the better.

After a little back and forth, the now five of them decided to leave the broken village of Bibury, though Biff made them all load the electronics from the bomb shelter in him before they left. “Don’t ask,” said CF6 to Mike, hauling a motherboard into Biff. “He’d throw you in if you stayed quiet for long enough.” Nelly led the group out of the village, with her newfound fan and a mischievous grin on her face. Mike had the same look on his. One daren’t think what the grins were in aid of. “I reckon we should go to Cirencester next,” SUSIE suggested. Seemed like a sensible suggestion to everyone.

SUSIE began to explain to CF6 and Biff all the interesting humans that had settled in Cirencester, which included the 1900’s poet Pam Ayres and her great, great, great, great granddaughter Cam Ayres, who also happened to be a poet. The group left Bibury behind them as the sun rose, the next adventure waiting for them in Cirencester. “Freedom!” yelled CF6, grinning at Biff. SUSIE and Nelly laughed and joined in. “Freedom, freedom, freedom!”group left Bibury behind them as the sun rose, the next adventure waiting for them in Cirencester. “Freedom!” yelled CF6, grinning at Biff. SUSIE and Nelly laughed and joined in. “Freedom, freedom, freedom!”

Stefan Matthews is a screenwriter and graduate from Bournemouth University. He is a dream=smith, an illusion-weaver, a forger of fantasia. Well, that’s what he claims.