Isaac Asimovs I-Bots



TIME WARS



STEVE PERRY & GARY A. BRAUNBECK








  For Dianne
  Steve Perry



  For Eric Robert Dickey and Kylie Ann Connor. Someday youll be old enough to 
  read this, and then youll understand why everyone looks nervous when Uncle 
  Gary comes around.
  Gary A. Braunbeck



CREDITS
Cover Design by John Lewis
COPYRIGHT
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are 
products of the authors imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any 
resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely 
coincidental.
TIME WAS. Copyright  1998 by BIG Entertainment Inc. All rights reserved under 
International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required 
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in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form 
or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter 
invented, without the express written permission of PerfectBound.
A DF Books NERDs Release






Contents
ALL THIS DARKNESS
1 Time was he knew happiness, hope, and acceptance.
2 There was something in the air, something more than the
3 At the same moment Gorman checked in, a new security
4 A hundred meters outside the electrified fence, unseen by the
5 In his lush office overlooking the compound, Samuel Preston hung
6 Ninety seconds after the mainframe security code changed, it changed
7 The child sensed the Bad Feeling again as he realized
8 When the three I-Bots were less than nine feet from
9 The child gasped (or so he thought/hoped). Time was he
10 Preston hit another hidden button and two large speakers lowered
11 Radiant and Psy-4 were moving quickly through a dimly lit
12 NO! screamed the child. NO! Dont leave me, dont leave
13 Me? said Zac. Yes, you, replied Preston. And dont go
14 ***WARNING***WARNING***WARNING***WARNING *** WARNING***
15 I still insist it wasnt a bloody fair test! said
16 In his office, Samuel Preston sat drumming his fingers on
17 Time was the child had known happiness, hope, and acceptance.
PART ONE
WHEELS OF CONFUSION
18 WEDNESDAY MORNING; THURSDAY NIGHT Annabelle Donohoes expensively manicured 
fingernails, today
19 and now there were bodies scattered on the ground in
20 It took Mr. James a lot longer to die than
21 Something was wrong. She could sense it. Smell it. Feel
22 Robert Arthur Pendleton III, Chairman of the Board of Directors
23 The Scrapper Camp was a slaughterhouse. At times like thisand
24 Soyoure actually answering your phone this morning. Annabelles voice 
was
25 In the cellar of the warehouse, Psy-4 watched in silence
26 Seven blocks from the I-Bots warehouse stood a section of
27 Even under the best of circumstances, no one in their
28 Itazura was just stepping onto the top stair, ready to
29 The other I-Bots were nowhere to be found when Killaine,
30 As far as Sam Preston was concerned, the three words
31 So what exactly are you looking for? asked Itazura. Psy-4
32 At first: Darkness. Buzzing. Hissing. Static, fading. Psy-4 found himself
33 His face hastily stitched up by a Chinese doctor the
34 Janus looked across the desk at Annabelle. Okay, Ive read
35 Zac Robillard lay on his shabby little bed, waiting out
36 After seeing Janus off, Simmons returned to Annabelles office. Hes
37 As they waited for Killaine, Singer, and Zac to return
38 Excuse me, miss? Yes, sir? I was wondering, when you
39 Rudy couldnt believe his luck; it was almost enough to
40 Singer listened politely as Psy-4 explained their dilemma, holding back
41 Yes? said Annabelle. Hello, madam. Simmons? Im afraid so, madam.
42 The sun was just beginning to slink its way past
43 Stonewall finished his final calcullations, double checked the results, then
44 Prestons insides felt on fire as he made his way
45 Zac Robillard awoke from a blessedly dreamless sleep feeling a
46 Nice of you to have me followed. Hello, Janus. Annabelle
47 The Scrapper Camp was located in the center of a
48 In the now-empty restricted area of the main lab, Sam
49 A thousand miles away, Annabelle Donohoe sat in her darkened
PART TWO
WHEELS OF ILLUMINATION
50 Killaine placed her hand defiantly upon her hips and glared
51 Sam Preston awoke with his head buried in his folded
52 Five minutes until ten, and already the line outside the
53 Annabelle, hello. I Why didnt you tell me yourself? she
54 Thirty minutes into their conversation-one that had been speckled with
55 Across the road from the carnival entrance gate, Rudy watched
56 Psy-4 nodded his head and looked up from the blueprints
57 Morgan watched Karen walk over to one of the pay
58 That morning would go down in their personal histories as
59 Morgans own bootha straightforward water race gamewas located at the
60 Annabelle sat at her desk, alone in her office, looking
61 When Killaine returned from the carnival later that evening, Radiant
62 Waiting for the redheaded bitch to come back to her
63 It took the I-Bots an hour to construct the mock-up
64 Annabelle rolled over in her bed and looked at the
65 In the still, quiet hours of the night, after all
66 Killaine was down in the garage bay making a last
67 Morgan was awakened at 3:40 A.M. by the sound of
68 The day passed all too quickly at the warehouse. There
69 The carnival at night: Wood shavings and sawdust that cling
PART THREE
WHEELS OF FIRE
70 Zac Robillard regained consciousness in slow, confusing degress, recalling 
only
71 Until the moment when one of them decided to turn
72 In the SMS headquarters, Gash watched the rest of the
73 In the main lab in the basement of PTSI, Sam
74 Stonewall was right; by the time Psy-4, Itazura, Radiant, and
75 Zac opened his eyes and saw stars. And within those
76 Psy-4 gathered everyone together and explained the situation. How long
77 In this safe, said Annabelle, Youll find another syringe. This
78 Driving out of Cemetery Ridge, Stonewall checked his watch, then
79 1, 2, 6, 12, 60, 420, 840. Zac stared at
80 It took Singer a little more than nine minutes to
AFTER ALL
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
CREDITS
COVER
COPYRIGHT
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER



  ALL THIS DARKNESS



  It is of the greatest tragedies of this age that as soon as Man invented a 
  machine he began to starve.
  Oscar Wilde, THE SOUL OF MAN UNDER SOCIALISM



1

08/08/2013 
23:54:00


Time was he knew happiness, hope, and acceptance.
But now
Now, in the grave-silent, ink-black darkness where even the deepest shadows 
would shine brightly, the child thought: If only I could scream.
Blackness above, below, all around him.
Or so he imagined.
This darkness had been his home for so long he could no longer tell if his eyes 
were open or closed. Sometimes he wondered if he still had eyes; he had no 
sensations of blinking, of crying, of fluttering lidshe couldnt even reach up 
to rub them, to find out if they were still there or if Father had blinded him.
If only he could screambut there was just numbness, a consuming nothingness 
where he knew his mouth should be. Hed long ago forgotten what it felt like to 
whistle, to click his teeth together, to moisten his lips with the tip of his 
tongue before letting fly with a good, loud raspberry.
Why did you do this to me, Father? he thought. If I did something bad, Im 
sorry. Just, pleaseplease let me out of here. Its so dark.
Im scared.
I hurt.
Please, someone, come get me.
He remembered the faces of other children hed seen (though he could never be 
sure where it was hed seen them), faces filled with joy, mischief, glowing with 
laughter, and he wondered if any of them had noticed him, if they remembered 
what he looked like, if they were now, right now, asking their mother or father 
where that little boy was, if he was coming back.
The memory made him smile (he thought/hoped), because that meant he wasnt 
blind, after all. The darkness had just lasted a lot longer this time, but maybe 
that was okay because then hed appreciate the Light all the more, and maybe, 
just maybe, if he appreciated it enough, then Father would never put him back 
here in this awful, dead, silent, dark, and lonely, lonely place.
Sometimes, when he remembered the threat (and Father had made it, hadnt he?) 
and the Bad Feeling came over him, the child would think about his own face. He 
thought he knew what he would look like, and the face he gave himself was a good 
one, yes it was; a good, friendly face, the face of someone another child would 
want to have as their bestest buddy in the whole wide world.
He pictured his face now and felt a little better.
But only a little.
Only a little was often all he had.
He remembered ice cream, and hot dogs with mustard (he didnt think he liked 
mustard), and big, juicy cheeseburgers. It all looked so good and tasty.
He could not remember the last time hed eaten anything.
He couldnt even remember what they tasted like.
Or even if hed ever tasted anything.
Why wasnt he hungry? He should have been starvingbut then he remembered seeing 
pictures of other children in faraway countries, their bellies bloated from 
starvation, and some voice telling him that these deprived children reached a 
point where their hunger was so great they were no longer aware of how hungry 
they were.
Was that why he didnt feel hungry? Below him, somewhere in the darkness, was 
his stomach swollen?
He slowly became aware of occasional flickers of dim light piercing the 
darkness, flowing inward, and for a moment he thought Father had come back for 
him, smiling forgiveness and understanding, and Father was going to turn on the 
lights and say, All right, then, youve learned your lesson. Now come on out. 
There are a bunch of your friends waiting outside, see? Run along, have fun. But 
behave yourself. You know what happens when you misbehave, dont you?
The child waited, so excited and happy he could barely contain himself.
If he could have felt his hands, he would have clapped them together with glee.
If he could have found his legs, he would have bent his knees and bounced on his 
toes with anticipation.
If he could have laughed, that would have made everything all right. Forever.
Never again this darkness.
He tried to laugh, to force the sound out from the back of his throat and make 
everything All Right.
He thought about strands of cotton candy swirling onto paper cones.
He thought about playing catch with his friends in open summer fields when night 
was kept away by the buzzing lights surrounding the baseball diamond.
He thought about the music of a calliope and wondered why he couldnt remember 
ever hearing it.
Above him the blackness snowed a blizzard of images from his memory as the lens 
of night burned, blinding him once again with white-hot darkness in his eyes. 
Then:
Silence.
The crackle of fear.
Loneliness.
Abandonment.
No echo of laughter, for there had been none.
The child remained still, almost lifeless, and knew that hed made a mistake 
about that light, those images and memories. It was part of his 
Forever-punishment. Father would show him all the things he was missing, all the 
joy and happiness and fun that would never include him, and it was mean and hurt 
so much and made him want to cry or shout or raise his fists and strike out or 
maybe smash through one of the windows in this room if it had windows, if it was 
a room, if he could move, ifif
if only he could scream.
But he knew he couldnt.
He also knew what Father was planning to do to him.
Soon.
Very soon.
Please dont, he silently called out to the night.
and as much as he was capable, the child began to whimper, wishing for the 
release of tears.
2
There was something in the air, something more than the humidity of another 
seventy-one-degree night; not quite tension, perhaps, but a sense of something 
unnameable impending. In the city below, it beckoned solitary figures to their 
windows to watch the murky light of the streets, their gazes following it upward 
to stare transfixed at the massive, brightly lit compound atop the somber hill, 
motionless as some ancient sleeping animal on the edge of civilization. There 
was a great insect humming in the air, singing in ceaseless, bumbling tones, 
rising a bit, falling a bit, but keeping the same pitch.
The breeze soughed and leaves fell silently from trees, tumbling with dry 
whispers, the rattling sound of a paper cup caught in the wind.
Crickets chirruped.
Frogs croaked.
Dogs howled mournfully in the distance.
The moth was unaware of any of it, save for the light.
It fluttered in ever-smaller circles toward the light, only the light, allowing 
nothing else to draw its attention away from a destiny its race was genetically 
predisposed to fulfill.
It felt the force of the light and, beneath it, something thrumming.
So close now, circling, so near to the light
the tip of its left wing touched the electrified chain-link fence and in a 
millisecond its fate was realized in a flashing crackle-buzz burst of two 
hundred and ten thousand volts that reduced the moth to ashes before its remains 
hit the ground. The moment of its fiery death was captured by the lens of a 
video camera positioned atop the nearest post; the image simultaneously appeared 
on one of the numerous screens in the security kiosk five yards behind the 
fence.
Hot damnzapped another one! In his enthusiasm Ed Ransom accidentally spilled 
some of his coffee on his uniform, staining the PRESTON TECHNICAL SYSTEMS, INC. 
logo sewn to his shirt.
His partner, Daniel Gorman, shook his head and sighed. Youve got a real nasty 
streak in you, you know that? Pay attention to your monitors, all right?
Another flicker on one of the screens, and Ransom turned just in time to see 
another moth bite the big one. You suppose moths just get despondent and decide 
to, yknow, end it all? Think theres such a thing as moth depression?
Do you ever listen to yourself? said Gorman.
I try not to. What if I start to make sense?
I shudder at the thought. Gorman looked at his watch. Shows supposed to be 
starting right about now.
Lets hit it.
Both men moved to their respective consoles, entered the necessary codes and 
commands, and the bank of monitors came alive. The guards studied the screens 
with professional intensity.
Radars clear.
InfraScans normal.
Ground sensor readings?
Consistent with last scan.
No substantial change in circumference temperature.
Distance?
Three hundred yards.
Increase it to five.
Done.
Cameras five through twenty?
Operational, unimpeded view. Nice night.
Audio?
Frequency-high. I think I heard a gnat fart.
The rest of the check took under one minute.
Nothing, said Gorman.
Ransom grinned. Tell me about it. A ghost couldnt get past us tonight.
Gorman reached for the phone, gripped the handset but did not lift it, and 
stared at his watch.
Call in already! said Ransom impatiently.
Cant. Each stations been given a direct line into the main office tonight. I 
lift the receiver, and itll be Prest-O his own regal self on the other end.
When do you?
In about fifteen seconds. Its gotta be solid clockwork. No excuses or screw 
ups.
I tingle with excitement.
Thats called gas. I warned you about anchovies on the pizza.
You care. Im touched.
You really dont listen to yourself, do you?
Before Ransom could answer, Gorman lifted the receiver.
3
At the same moment Gorman checked in, a new security code came to life in the 
PTSI mainframe, replacing the one that had initiated only ninety seconds before:
 
Packet Type: Secret Key Packet
Length: 192
Version Byte: 192
Key Created: 8 August 2013 20:47:16
Initiate: 23:54:30
Modify/Morph (CW grammar): 23:56:00
Algorithm: 1 (RSA)
N:
CF7C85AAA6BBA6A928AA4Afde6236260533606FE88BE7891424A0148EAD3D
E: 11
Protection Algorithm: 0 (None)
D:
0C3480551A1cD917ADCD73C1C98A7E23032D03D986083ACBD24F99DED3D
P: D9(%#)+98ADBLCB+GAB=187ABFE7
Q: F3F075C82B5DEB1050-8FA690AF2CA
U: 41045F%AABD8BDFF62F020EB9GBLB
Checksum: 403C
4
23:54:36


A hundred meters outside the electrified fence, unseen by the guards, three 
figures approached through the shadows, pausing each time the beam from one of 
the revolving searchlights swung around to illuminate the multiple coils of 
barbed wire that topped off the five-meter-tall fence.
The searchlight passed them by in seventeen-second intervals, punctuating their 
approach.
When the darkness was returned to them, they moved swiftly, making no noise.
Even the foliage remained undisturbed.
Dressed in black, with dark wool caps pulled down to just above their eyes, they 
were more than just invisible in the nightthey were the night, and all its 
attendant shadows.
Sometimesnot often, but sometimesPsy-4 found this ninjalike approach a little 
melodramatic, like something from an old 1980s action film.
Sometimes he felt a little embarrassed about it, but he would never dare tell 
anyone.
He didnt want them to interpret it as weakness.
Weakness in a leadereven perceived weaknesstainted respect and authority.
That wouldnt do.
Psy-4 stopped, crouched, then signaled the other two I-Bots to move forward.
Radiant took point, her lithe and graceful figure reminding Psy-4 of a 
gazelleonly the pair of electronic infrared night goggles she wore damaged the 
illusion.
She moved farther ahead, then signaled Stonewall to move in front of her; 
despite his massive and near-mountainous bulk, Stonewalls movements were quick, 
deft, and precise.
Just as all of them had been programmed to be.
Liquid-smooth and soundless.
The way Psy-4 liked it.
So synchronized were their movements, so effortlessly choreographed and executed 
was every gesture, pounce, and sprint, that they easily covered thirty meters 
during their seventeen seconds of darkness.
The searchlight came around.
They paused.
The light passed.
And they propelled themselves into the darkness once again.
They would not be detected by any sensors until they were three yards away from 
the fence.
But that was all the room they would need.
5
In his lush office overlooking the compound, Samuel Preston hung up his phone, 
smiled quickly to himself, checked the time, and said, Looks like youre about 
to owe me a lot of money, Zac. Your people have less than ten minutes left. My 
guards say no one has even tried to get in yet. Theyll never make it. On this 
point he was confident. In fact, Preston could never remember a time when hed 
been more confident about anything; not only had he brought in extra security 
for this evenings test, hed personally programmed the security codes and 
sequences into the computers.
He smiled to himself and, turning for a moment toward the window, wiped away the 
thin bead of sweat that was forming on his upper lip.
Across from him, seated in an antique wing-backed chair, a burly man whose full 
beard and thick hair were speckled with more gray than his thirty-eight years 
should have earned, leaned forward as he adjusted the suspenders holding his 
blue jeans in place. Ten minutes can be a lot of time in some circumstances, 
Sam. You ever try holding your breath underwater for three minutes, let alone 
ten? Or not talk about yourself for that long? It can be an eternity. Trust me 
on this.
The two of them, once coworkers if never quite close friends, could not have 
contrasted one another more drastically; Preston, of the shockingly expensive 
tailored suits, hundred-dollar haircuts, and specially mixed cologne that cost 
more for two ounces than most people paid every month on their mortgages, was 
the epitome of the high-powered, high-rolling, high-salaried corporate 
executive; Zac Robillard, on the other hand, of the off-the-rack denims, 
fifty-cent elastic ties to pull his longish hair into a ponytail, and the basic 
frugal soap-and-water scent, more resembled the photos in recent history books 
of the so-called ex-hippie whose species was prevalent during the Woodstock 
generation.
And so here they were, mused Preston: the Corporate Giant and the 
Long-in-the-Tooth-Ex-Hippie, jockeying for position.
He felt a twinge of fire deep in his center and pressed his hand against it.
This was, Preston knew, only a friendly wager between two former coworkers; 
even so, his disposition didnt allow any room for humilityat least when it 
came to losing bets to someone so far down the ladder of success.
Time to play a card in his hand.
Preston opened a drawer and pressed a button. A split appeared in the opposite 
wall of the office as four separate oak panels slid back to reveal the massive 
bank of video and closed-circuit television monitors hidden there. The largest 
of the monitors displayed a series of layout schematicswhat used to be called 
blueprints in the pre-Holo Tecture daysdecorated with series of flashing red, 
blue, and green lights.
Youve seen these, of course, said Preston.
What do you think?
Getting grumpy in your old age, Zac.
It happens.
Preston couldnt quite gauge Robillards tone so decided to ignore it for right 
now.
He pointed to the oversized screen. In case youve forgotten, the green lights 
are weight sensors; the blue, air-pressure sensors; and the red
temperature sensors. I remember. Zac looked entirely too calm for Prestons 
comfort.
Theyre not in here, Zac. Your peoplehe entered a series of commands on his 
keyboard, noting that his hands were trembling ever so slightlyarent even on 
the grounds yet, let alone inside this building.
The schematics on the large screen changed more rapidly now, bringing up a new 
section of the compound and all its buildings every eight seconds, while the 
rest of the screens displayed pictures of empty hallways, quiet sidewalks, 
locked doors, computer banks running smoothly with no human assistance.
Preston felt smug, if not good.
Dammit, he thought as the twinge of fire flared again inside him. Not now!
No way was Zac going to beat him on this one. Oh, sure, when theyd been at 
WorldTech together, it became apparent to even the most self-involved of the 
researchers that Robillard possessed the superior scientific mind. Though 
Preston resented the respect and even awe with which Zac was regarded, it 
quickly became obvious that it was he, Preston, and not Robillard, who had the 
upper hand when it came to corporate political savvy.
Guess who made it all the way to the top, Zac, he thought, studying Robillards 
face.
Still, somewhere in the back of his mind, Preston knew that, ultimately, he was 
inferior to Zac Robillard in every way that counted.
But hed become very good at denial.
Very good, indeedhe had the fire inside his gut to testify to that.
No way, no way in hell, would Zac Robillard beat him.
No way.
6
Ninety seconds after the mainframe security code changed, it changed again:


Modify/Morph (CW grammar): 23:56:00
INITIATE:
Algorithm: 1 (RSA)
N:

E: 11.rsa-n
Protection Algorithm: 0 (None)
D:

P: D9(%#)+98ADBLCB+GAB=187ABFE7
Q: F3F075C82B5DEB1050-8FA690AF2CA
U: 41045F%AABD8BDFF62F020EB9GBLB
Checksum: 403C
7
23:56:07


The child sensed the Bad Feeling again as he realized that he couldnt remember 
the color of his hair.
Blond? Dark? Light brown?
Was it straight, hanging down in his eyes so he had to brush it aside all the 
time, maybe puff it away with a good burst of breath, or was it wavy, even 
curly?
The Bad Feeling quickly gave way to sadness.
He couldnt remember.
And his sadness gave way to a deeper fear.
8
When the three I-Bots were less than nine feet from the fence, Radiant lifted 
her hands, signaling her companions to hang back. She adjusted her goggles, took 
a deep breath, then stepped forward into the range of the outside sensors.
Psy-4 was as still as death.
Even though he knew there was no security system that could defeat them, hed 
been programmed to never, ever discard any possibility, regardless of how 
outrageous or illogical it seemed.
And so he was a little on edge right now.
In fact, he was a little on edge all the time, but never more so than when they 
were executing a mission.
You never knew what might go wrong.
Or when.
He pushed his anxiety aside and concentrated on Radiants movements.
She moved forward, hands straight out, palms up.
The air hit her hands and rippled backward like heat waves rising from an 
asphalt road in summer heat.
Psy-4 could smell the ozone, feel that crackling static electricity twisting 
through the atmosphere, brushing past him.
He looked at Stonewall, who nodded in his direction.
He felt it, too.
The night became blurred, shadows retreated, and the sounds of the crickets and 
dogs and countless other night creatures grew muffled wherever the sound waves 
passed through the ripples emanating from Radiants hands.
She moved closer to the fence.
The ripples turned to waves, rolling forward, frothing the darkness.
This close to the source, the buzzing of the electrified fence was a physical 
force against the humid night, its volume rising with every step she took, 
becoming the vicious snarl of a starving junkyard dog ready to tear into a 
trespasser.
She never hesitated, never faltered.
Psy-4 stared at her, transfixed; she appeared to be in a trance.
He wondered if she knew how compelling she looked at moments like this.
The searchlight came around again, but this time when its beam hit the 
ripple-shield around Radiant the light split, spread, became diffuse, and was 
swallowed.
There was an opening in the world where none had been before, a pit of night 
where nothing was seen or sensed; the maw of Death, wide and hungry.
But only for a moment.
As the searchlight completed its sweep, the split beams reformed, fused into 
one, then continued the arc.
She remained undetected.
Standing before the fence, the electrical waves were so powerful that a few 
tufts of Radiants startling silver hair, spilling from underneath her cap, 
stood on end with barely audible crackles.
Psy-4 saw her lips bloom into a small, self-satisfied smile.
Congratulate yourself later, he thought. Its time to do your job.
She reached forward with both hands and gripped a section of chain-link.
There was a brief, soft pop! when her flesh came into contact with the fence.
Psy-4 looked toward the kiosk.
The two guards were too busy scanning their monitors to notice what was surely 
only another moth buying the farm.
Radiant held firm to the fence.
Unseen machines and invisible trembling monoliths, the computerized entities she 
was sensing were at once compromised, humming and singing, grinding, clicking, 
growing in force, coalescing into a silent, whirling dynamo, around, around, up 
and out into the heart of all whirling invisibilities, fed into, read by, then 
accepted within a million-plus copper wires, thrice as many microprocessors 
exchanging innumerable geometric capability sequences
Psy-4 felt the welcomed excitement that always overtook him when things were 
getting ready to shift into a higher gear, and he carefully watched Radiant as
an electric web poured over her, around her, the sizzling heat deflected by the 
ripple-shield, branching in four directions, then eight secondary directions as 
she hunched her shoulders and threw back her headnot only to signal her 
companions, but to direct the white-hot threads farther around and above her
Psy-4 and Stonewall emerged from the darkness, crouching until they were well 
under the protection of Radiants shield
somewhere in the compound turbines whirred and hummed and screamed as the 
electric sparks and bolts jumped away from the intruders and clustered on the 
dew-soaked grass beneath their feet
Stonewall knelt down and slammed a fist into the soil, creating a hole three 
feet deep, then dragged his arm six feet straight across, earth and weeds and 
worms and stones spitting upward as he dug his small trench. He rammed both arms 
down into the space until his vicelike fingers found the buried base of the 
fence
he rose steadily, wrenching the fence base from the ground and pulling it 
higher, higher, the chain-links like scraps of tinfoil in his fists, peeling the 
fence back and up, rolling it as easily as a newspaper until there was enough 
room for his companions to walk through
Psy-4 went first, eyes darting this way, then that
Radiant followed him, quickly, quietly, her ripple-shield spreading over the 
barbed wire, then a few yards beyond, until she stood by his side
a nod from both of them, and Stonewall rolled the fence back down into the 
trench, straightening it, melding it back into the shattered ground below, which 
spread around the metal base as he pulled his arms out of the trench.
Quickly, with the expertise of a landscape artist, he replaced the remaining 
earth and rocks and worms and weeds that hed disturbed
in a few seconds all was as it had been before, and Radiant brought her hands 
together, cupping them as if in prayer; the ripple-shield vanished as the 
wriggling electric strands shot back into the metal of the fence, humming and 
buzzing contentedly.
Stonewall retreated back into the darkness and the duties waiting for him there.
Radiant turned toward Psy-4, gave a quick nod, and they ran forward.
With a wave of Radiants hand here, a finger point there, every motion- and 
heat-sensing detector surrounding them, both those buried and those in plain 
view, blinked and went blind.
No cameras recorded their movements.
No audio-scanners detected the vibrations of their breathing.
No radio-controlled ground-pressure devices registered their weight.
Psy-4 felt pleased about how well everything was going thus far.
Very pleased.
Until he checked the time.
A little over seven seconds had elapsed since Radiant first gripped the fence.
Seven seconds.
It should have only taken five.
Sloppy, he thought.
And there were no excuses for that.
None.
Dammit!
Overhead, a triple-bladed HeliCam swept down toward them, its bright red 
tracking beam hitting Radiant squarely on the forehead.
Sneaky, arent they? she said. Lifting her index finger, she made a circling 
motion, and the toy-sized robotic airborne security unit did several 
loop-de-loops before she sent it on its confused way with a dismissive wave.
Will you please not do that again? hissed Psy-4.
I cant help it. Its fun! When this didnt get a reaction, she sighed and 
said, You have got to work on your sense of humor, Psy-4.
Well discuss my dreadful personality problems later. Cmon.
I thought this was going to be difficult.
Stop whining.
Oh, all right.
And tuck in your hair.
Aw, come on! Do you know how long its going to take me to get the kinks out 
after this? I swear, Psy-4, if you knew what it was like to have tooh, dont 
glare at me like that. Ill be a good girl.
She began tucking the loose strands of her hair back under her cap as they moved 
toward the target area.
9
The child gasped (or so he thought/hoped).
Time was he could have told the difference.
Someones coming, he thought to himself.
He wanted to hope it was true, but would not let himself.
In this darkness, Hope was his enemy.
Time was, it used to be his brotherno, more like his older sister. Yes, he 
imagined it used to be his older sister, always looking out for him, cheering 
him up when he felt down.
But she had turned on him.
Even his own sister wouldnt tell him what he had done that was so bad.
10
Preston hit another hidden button and two large speakers lowered from the 
ceiling above the monitors; both hissed, but not from any electronic malfunction 
in their circuitry: The hiss was the sound of silence.
Zac Robillard turned to watch the speakers descend into place, and Preston used 
the opportunity to pull two small white pills from his pocket, pop them into his 
mouth, and take a quick drink of water from the glass sitting on his desk.
Robillard saw none of this, and Preston was quite pleased about that.
Hed kept it a secret for a long time, and the last thing he wanted was for 
Robillard, of all people, to ask him if he was feeling all right.
Those speakers, said Preston, are hooked into an audio tracking system that 
runs throughout this building. What youre hearing right nowlet me turn the 
volume down a bitthere, thats better. Where was I?
You were about to tell me what I was hearing.
Preston glared at Robillard for a moment: Was that actually boredom in the mans 
voice?
Smug bastard, he thought.
Didnt matter. Robillard would be eating crow soon enough.
Preston cleared his throat. Youre hearing every sound thats being made 
outside the doors of this office in this building at this moment. Theres 
nothing out there, Zac, except maybe a thousand or so mosquitoes.
Robillard rubbed his eyes. Im guessing youve got some kind of sensor 
installed God only knows where that can give you a precise count?
Preston grinned, noting with satisfaction that Robillards apparent boredom was 
swiftly changing to resignation. I might. You never know.
Robillard nodded his head. You always were one to use an uncertainty to your 
advantage.
And you always considered that taking unfair advantage of someone. That was 
your biggest problem, Zachell, it probably still is.
And whats that?
Your overwhelming sense of morality had no place in the business world, and 
because of it you could never tell the difference between duplicity and 
opportunity.
Robillard tilted his head to one side, quiet amusement momentarily in his eyes. 
Does this just come to you or do you write it all down ahead of time and 
memorize it?
Preston swallowed.
Hard.
And it hurt.
Robillard was trying to upset him, needle him, throw off his concentration with 
irrelevant humor. He just knew it.
Preston leaned forward on his desk. They wont make it, Zac. Even if they 
manage through some fluke or divine intervention to get inside the compound, 
theyll never get inside this building. I designed tonights security programs 
myself. Remember the old Catherine Wheel theory we concocted back at 
WorldTech?
Something jarred behind Robillards eyes. You didnt?
Preston felt even stronger, even more in control now.
Uh-huh. And it works, Zac. Only for short periods of timein this case, 
five-and-a-half minutesbut it works.
Robillard wiped some perspiration from his forehead. The Catherine Wheel 
program was designed as a game on paper! Lord, Sam, you could wipe out half, if 
not all, of your mainframe computers, having that many deliberately
if the program ran for more than a quarter of an hour, yes, but right now it 
doesnt. Another look at his watch. I reiterate, Zac: They arent going to 
make it.
Yeah, they are. I promised them Italian food later if things went well. They 
really love Italian, especially when someone else pays for it.
Must get awfully expensive for you.
Then Zac said something Preston wasnt expecting: Oh, I fully expect itll be 
your treat tonight, Sam.
Youre that confident in their abilities?
Zac gestured toward the open briefcase containing ten thousand dollars in cash 
on Prestons desk. You think Id have taken you up on this if I werent?
Beside Zacs rather beat-up briefcase was an expensive attach; this, too, was 
open, and also held ten thousand dollars in cash. Preston ran a hand over the 
money in both, a gleam in his eyes. Hard to say, Zac. When we were both at 
WorldTech, I always had this sneaking suspicion that there was a reckless spirit 
hiding somewhere in all that girth.
This, said Zac, slapping a hand to his protruding belly, is not girth. I 
prefer to think of it as muscle in slumber.
Both men laughed, but not too loudly. Then Preston turned back to his window, 
hands clasped confidently behind his back, emperor of all he surveyed.
After a moment, he shifted his gaze to a darker area of the window and began 
surreptitiously studying the inverse reflection of Robillards face.
Preston supposed that a lot of peoplewomen in particularwould deem Zac 
Robillards face romantic.
Maybe.
Lucky S.O.B. had probably never exploited it to his advantage.
At a glance, it would be tempting to interpret Robillards demeanor as an uneasy 
marriage between the manic and melancholyor simply world-weariness kept at bay 
with occasionally forced good humorbut a close look into his soft brown eyes 
would soon reveal the anger, grief, frustration, and fear roiling beneath the 
surface of calm that he often fought to maintain. Of all Robillards 
characteristics, this was the one that most unnerved Preston when he was 
face-to-face with the man: His eyes were haunted by phantoms. Beneath their 
surface, countless ghostsperhaps of dead loved ones, or youthful idealism, or 
even belief in a world where scientific breakthroughs were for the benefit of 
all mankind, not just (as Robillard used to complain at WorldTech) those who 
could wield Damoclesean power to ensure that they chose who could and could not 
benefitall these ghosts performed a never-ending dance of disillusion and 
regret, whispering, always whispering, Careful, our friend. Careful.
Preston figured if he himself had been blessed with a face like Robillardsone 
with a mysterious, haunted qualityhis meteoric rise to power would have been 
even more swift and stunning.
Zac glanced at the two security officers who stood on either side of Prestons 
expansive teak desk; both were dressed identicallydark suits with the breast 
pockets bearing the PTSI logo, dark ties, dark glassesand both held Uzi 
submachine guns. They were so still and silent they might have been sculptures.
Sam, said Zac. I dont mean to appear ungracious, but Id appreciate it if 
youd tell Jake and Elwood there that Id feel a lot better if theyd point 
those guns more toward the floor and away from my parts.
They wont fire unless I give the word.
They look like theyre ready to hose the room if I so much as sneeze.
Worried, are you?
Not for myself, no.
For your people, then.
No.
Preston was taken slightly aback by that. Not for your people?
No.
Then what are you worried about?
You and your guards.
Why?
Zac smiled a slow, subtle, maddeningly enigmatic smile. That would be telling.
Bingo.
Preston suddenly felt anxious, and he wondered if perhaps Zac had something up 
his sleeve that no one could have predicted.
Score one for the visiting team, thought Preston.
Then: Ill get you for that.
Preston ordered the men to point their guns toward the floor.
Happy now?
Zac shrugged. Thank you, though.
Preston couldnt make heads or tails of Robillards reactions. He wondered if 
that wasnt precisely the point of Robillards behavior: The old Deadhead was 
trying to confuse him.
That had to be it.
Didnt it?
Preston checked the time. Six minutes, thirty, Zac. Youre not even sweating.
Should I be?
You tell me.
Maybe in six minutes, thirty. Sam.
Preston groaned softly, feeling as if he were losing the upper hand, then 
reached under the desk and pulled out a large object that resembled a salesmans 
sample case.
He set it on the desk.
Opened the latches.
And stared at Robillard, readying to regain his momentum in their little tug of 
war. Okay, my old amigo, what say we add a last dash of excitement to the 
recipe?
What do you have in mind?
This, said Preston, spinning the open case around and tilting it toward Zac.
It was crammed nearly to bursting with neatly arranged stacks of bills.
Zacs eyebrows rose slightly. How much is there?
One hundred and forty thousand dollars.
Zac gave a low, long, impressed whistle.
This is pocket money for me, Zac, chump change, and you know it. I want to up 
the ante.
Including the ten-thousand dollars?
Yes.
Zac shook his head. I cant match one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, Sam. 
The ten grand in the case is almost everything Ive got.
I know you havent the resources to match a wager this cash-substantialbut 
that doesnt mean you dont have something even more valuable.
One breath. For one breath Preston saw a spark of panic flash across Zacs 
faceas if he were thinking something like, Jesus, does he know about?but then 
it was gone.
Preston suddenly felt robbed. He deserved to watch Robillards demeanor crumple, 
if only a little.
What would that be? asked Zac. What do I have thats worth that much money?
You, said Preston.
11
Radiant and Psy-4 were moving quickly through a dimly lit corridor, thirteen 
seconds ahead of schedule.
Here, said Psy-4, turning left into a shorter corridor that dead-ended at a 
large steel door. On the wall next to the door was a hand-scan panel. He removed 
his gloves and placed his hand against the screen.
There was a languid flow of green light at the point where his hand made 
contact.
Radiant killed all cameras and sensor devices with a snap of energy.
Something moaned mechanically.
Then Psy-4 nearly dropped to his knees in pain.
Are you all right? asked Radiant, placing a hand on his arm.
uhyes, yesImIm fine.
You dont sound fine.
Psy-4s voice was granite. Just give me a second and Ill be all right. Okay?
Radiant took a step back. Ive never seen you like this. Its genuinely 
frightening.
Psy-4 didnt hear her; he was staring at the steel door. Down there, he 
whispered. Somethings not right.
Psy-4? Come on, we dont have long left.
so darkand lonelylonely
Radiant reached up and touched the side of Psy-4s face, startling him from his 
reverie.
Huhwha? Oh. II apologize. Come on.
Are you sure that youre? Okay, okay, dont glare at me again. Is everything 
running as it should be?
Yes. Three hundred sixty-two seconds from now.
Radiant smiled. Plenty of time.
No, said Psy-4. WeIve been distracted. It shouldnt have happened.
But
Not a word, Radiant. Not one more word from you.
12
NO! screamed the child. NO! Dont leave me, dont leave me here, youre so 
close, Im right down here, not far, I promise, really, reallyplease come, 
pleaseI hurtplease
Please dont kill me, Father. I dont know what I did wrong but I wont ever do 
it again, I promise, I promise, I promise, Ill be good, Ill make you proud of 
me, youll see, just, justpleasepleaseplease dont
ohplease
someone
come get me
ohplease, someone
someone come
come get
13
Me? said Zac.
Yes, you, replied Preston. And dont go pulling that modesty routine with me, 
okay? It impressed some of the folks at WorldTech but I never bought it for a 
second. Youve got the sharpest mind Ive ever knownaside from my own, of 
courseand Im bored to death with not having anyone in my employ of equal 
intelligence. Theres nochallenge here anymore. Do you understand, Zac? 
Hannibal has crossed the Alps and this time has taken Rome. Wit, Zac, Im dying 
here for lack of genuine wit, lack of a good argument or a chess partner wholl 
beat me nearly as often as I beat him. My mind is shriveling from boredom.
As evidenced by that ham-fisted Hannibal metaphor.
Im not sure I like your tone of voice.
With all due respect, Sam, I dont give a rats ass if you like my tone of 
voice or not. You should have heard yourself, all that Poor, poor, pitiful me 
crap. How tragic, to have achieved all your goals before hitting forty. My God, 
the money, the fame, the power and womenits a wonder you can stand at all from 
the constant anguish.
Preston was astonished. Youre making fun of me.
Maybe a little, but theres no rancor in it. Besides, you deserved it. For a 
minute there, you sounded like some five-year-old who didnt get the bike he 
wanted for Christmas.
This seems on the verge of getting unpleasant, Zac.
Why, because Im not agreeing with you? Because Im not begging to kiss your 
royal ring finger like any number of flunkies around here?
Youre getting nasty.
No, Im not, Sam. Im telling you the truth and you dont want to hear it. You 
never were very good at listening to criticism.
Criticism is only for those who cant cut it, Zac, who need guidance because 
they havent the imagination or fortitude to
dont talk down to me, all right? I didnt mean to offend you, but unless I 
completely misunderstood what you were saying, you want someone by your side who 
isnt a brown nosed yes-man. Is that right or did I have an hallucination?
You didnt hallucinate. Preston hated the sound of his voicepetulant, 
pouting, like that of a child whod just been scolded and knew in his heart that 
he deserved it. He also knew exactly why he was sounding that way. If Zac only 
knewbut there were some things a man could never share with anyone. Preston had 
to do this right. He felt that all too familiar pain in his gut. A tense silence 
fell on the room for a moment. Preston surreptitiously wiped the first faint 
traces of sweat from his palms.
Lets drop it and start over, said Zac. Okay?
Yes. I was just thinking.
About what?
About how much Id like to wipe that confident look off your face with the heel 
of my shoe, thought Preston.
What he said was: Heres my offer, my wager, whatever you want to call it: My 
one hundred and fifty thousand dollars against your ten. If you win, if your 
people manage to break through my security and take this office in the next 
three minutes, then you walk out of here with one hundred and sixty thousand 
dollars and leave me with egg on my face.
And if I lose?
You know.
Maybe, maybe not. Enlighten me.
Preston really didnt like the way this was going; it was starting to smack of 
his losing control of the situation. If you lose, then you and your team will 
come and work for me. One year. After that, you can truck on down the old Happy 
Trail if you want. He looked at his watch. Two minutes, Zac. Are we on? Do you 
agree to the terms?
Zac grinned. Youve come a long way since our days in Vampirellas employ, 
havent you?
Dont speak ill of Annabelle, replied Sam, returning the grin. Im sure her 
dispositions improved considerably since she bought the new coffin. Youre 
begging the question.
Tell me when were down to forty-five seconds.
A long silence.
A thin bead of perspiration ran down the center of Prestons forehead; the fire 
in his gut was, thankfully, starting to be extinguished.
Forty-five seconds, Zac.
Robillard put out his hand. We have a bet.
Preston shook Zacs hand. Sucker.
A man is involved in a terrible auto accident, said Zacs voice from the 
overhead speakers.
Preston whirled around to face the screens. What the?
And there was the face of Zac Robillard staring back at him from every monitor.
He comes to in the emergency room and sees a doctor staring down at him. Ive 
got good news and bad news, says the doctor. The bad news is that one of your 
legs was damaged severely, and we had to remove itonly we cut off the wrong 
leg. Whats the good news? says the guy. The good news, says the doctor, 
is that your bad legs getting better.
Youve got a bad leg, Sam, and youve just been shown how easy it is to cut off 
both the bad one and the good one. I hope this doesnt bruise your ego too 
much, said all of Zacs faces, but your state-of-the-art security has just 
been breached by Invasion Prevention Systemswhich would be me. All 
communications from this office will be suspended for the next five minutes.
Why? shouted Preston at the screen.
Just to be a pain, replied the many faces of Zac.
Preston picked up his phone to find the line was busy playing Glenn Millers In 
the Mood. He tried his computer keyboard, even resorted to voxax mode, then 
shook his head. What did you do, plant a virus in my system when you came in?
Not me, said Zac, checking his watch, then pointing at the office door. 
Them.
Before Preston could say anything, the door swung open.
A woman dressed in black and wearing night goggles walked in, accompanied by a 
muscular man who looked as if he ate car parts for breakfast.
Two of my operatives, said Zac. With ten seconds to spare.
Shit, thought Preston, reaching for his checkbook. Okay, Zac, you win. He 
flipped open the checkbook and began to write in it. He wanted these people on 
his teamneeded them desperately, in factand he didnt care how much it cost. 
How much, he asked Zac, is it going to take for you and your people
If hed been on the verge of losing control before, then everything came 
crashing down around him a few seconds later.
The bank of monitors began to move, swinging out into the office proper, and 
from behind it emerged two more of Zac Robillards operativesone male, one 
femaleeach holding an armed guard bound with his own handcuffs.
Preston, shocked into open mouthed silence, looked over at the two security 
guards already in the office.
Even behind their dark glasses, their surprise was evident.
Dammit to hell! Hed gone through a great deal of troublenot to mention bribe 
money paid to the architectto make sure that the hidden stairway and chambers 
below couldnt be found or even sensed with the most sophisticated surveillance 
equipment, but somehow two of Robillards operatives had managed to find it, and 
these four security guards now knew where it was, and that it was a secret, and 
what was he going to do about them?
Midnight straight up, said Zac. Then, to the second set of operatives: 
Cutting it a little close, werent you?
You know how I like dramatic entrances, said one of them, a young, well-built, 
fair-skinned Asian man. I mean, its one thing to watch someone else make 
themnot that I dont enjoy a good, vicarious thrill, mind youbut, honestly; 
how many times are you given the chance to pull an Olivier, a Guinness, a 
Gielgud, I ask you! The young mans eyes were narrow and piercing, his hair 
black and shiny as melted tar and tied back in a long ponytail that draped 
halfway down his back.
Ten minutes Ive been listening to this blathering, said his partner, a 
stunning redhead, her deep, throaty voice made musical by its Irish brogue. 
Going on and on, he was, even when I threatened to feed him his boots. I 
thought about trying to talk some sense into him, but then I realized theres 
not that much oxygen in the world.
I understand, said Zac.
He just had to take the bloody secret staircase.
Both Preston and his personal security guardsevidently having forgotten about 
their weaponsstared at her.
She was well worth staring at.
Even in the black slacks and sweatshirt, the curves of her rock-hard body 
undulated without mercy.
Preston knew he should be feeling more appreciative of the redheads anatomy, 
but he was too worried right now.
He chewed on his lower lip.
God Almightynot only did his personal security guards know there was something 
behind the monitors (that was bad enough), but, worse, Zacs operatives had 
managed to find a way in.
Undetected.
Preston had no way of knowing how theyd managed to bypass all the security 
devices.
He had no way of knowing how theyd gotten in in the first place.
Which meant that he had no way of knowing what they might have stumbled upon 
while making their way through his secret kingdom.
That made him nervous.
He hated being nervous.
He blinked, tried to smile, didnt quite make it, and so turned his attention 
back to the jaw-dropping redhead.
Something dangerous about her. Preston liked that. Dangerous women were one of 
Natures ultimate aphrodisiacs.
Across from the redhead, the woman in the goggles removed her black cap. 
Prestons gazeand those of his guardswere drawn to her thick waves of 
startling silver hair. Seeming pleased that she now held their attention, 
SilverHair shook out her luxurious locks, wet her lips with her tongue, and 
smiled.
The redhead glared at her, but not out of jealousy. Dont push your luck with 
me.
The young Asian man looked around the office. Nice desk. Everything so neat and 
just-so. Lots of extra room, too. Do many planes land here?
Preston blinked. What in the world are youI mean, noI meanuh, um
A complete sentence, said the young Asian, handing the two confused security 
guards the clips from their Uzis. Were going for a complete sentence herea 
qualifier, a verb, do I hear any votes for a dangling participle? By the way, 
you dropped this. He offered a small object.
My wallet! said Preston, suddenly patting himself down. Howd you manage 
to?
Its a compulsion. Got any Sprite in that wet bar over yonder?
Enough, said the muscular man whod come in with the silver-haired woman.
Sam, said Zac, meet my team. Folks, this pale, well-dressed gentleman who is 
for the moment too awestruck to form complete sentences is Mr. Samuel Clemens 
Prestonwho owes us a nice chunk of change, if Im not mistaken.
Preston turned slowly around to face the handcuffed guards, cleared his throat, 
and managed to find his voice, weak though it was. How did this happen? he 
said. Then, much louder: What the hell were the two of you doing?
The guards looked at one another, then the floor, then one of them lifted his 
head and mumbled something.
I didnt hear you, said Preston. What were you doing?
Ed Ransom, looking for all the world like there were 2,341 other things hed 
rather be doing at the moment, slowly lifted his head and whispered: Listening 
to gnat farts?
14
***WARNING***WARNING***WARNING***WARNING***WARNING***
<<<p>>>ans=1:<<<p>>>kbin="split(/./unpack(&#8242;R*&#8242;" pack (&#8242;D+D*, keyword 
(initiate)))
Packet Type: Terminal Key Packet
Keyword: RobRoy
Program Name: Playtime
Algorithm: 3 (RSA)
N:
3&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;&#931;3 Mark:
0x556A4A6776A4A655x0_ 123:48:57 E:13.sol. H M S
303030303030
 
Read Command: None
Pause Command: None
Stop Command: None
D+D Sequence Initiated.
Reason: Unknown connection made from within system *R*
Playtime initiated at: 23:59:09 8 August 2013
Estimated time of completion: 23:59:09 14 August 2013
Last Command: Say Bye-Bye
***WARNING***WARNING***WARNING***WARNING***WARNING***
15
I still insist it wasnt a bloody fair test! said Killaine, brushing a few 
strands of her red hair away from her eyes. After all, no huma
Zac raised his index finger, signaling silence, then turned toward the granite 
giant who was driving the van. Any insects on the windshield, Mr. Green?
No bugs, no tracking devices, nothing here now that wasnt here this morning, 
said Stonewall.
Good, said Zac, turning back to look at the others. I apologize for having 
interrupted you, Killaine; please.
All Im saying is that no human could have sneaked in there as easily as we 
did. Tisnt a fair challenge to our abilities. Seems like cheating to me.
But it isnt, said Zac. Look, Killaine, the gear exists for any criminal 
whos got half a brain to duplicate everything we did tonight. There are 
grounding units that can interrupt and reroute current in a section of 
electrified fence, there are devices that can defeat sensors, and any decent 
programmer could easily rascal that computer system once in close enough 
proximity. Just because the group managed to do all this without hauling along a 
ton of bulky equipment doesnt mean that it cant be done.
Killaine shrugged. I dont suppose I took the time to think of it quite like 
that.
Alert the media, said Itazura, retying his ponytail.
Dont you be starting with me, said Killaine.
Listen closely, said Itazura, and youll hear my teeth chatteringno, wait; 
thats the sound of the shock absorbers. When are we getting some new wheels, 
Boss?
Itzy, said Zac, the warning clear.
You can be replaced, said Killaine.
No, I cant.
No, you cantbut youve got to admit, it sounded good.
Hey, Boss? Im being harassed back here. As the only member of a minority, I 
feel that my civil rights are being oppressed.
Oppress this, said Killaine, grabbing his wrist; Itazura grabbed hers in 
return, and the two of them began one of their infamous arm-pressure contests.
Children said Zac.
Did everything go well? asked Stonewall.
Yes, Stoner, it did.
In the back of the van, Psy4 raised his head. But it should have gone much 
better.
Zac sighed, exasperated. You lost two seconds, Psy-4! Under the circumstances, 
I dont think you need to beat yourself up over that.
Under other circumstances, replied Psy-4, two seconds might have cost oneor 
allof us our lives.
Itazura, still locked in mortal combat with Killaines grip, shook his head and 
looked at Zac. Thats our Psy-4, snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.
I was distracted at a crucial moment, snapped Psy-4.
Itazura shrugged. I took the secret staircase, Kennedy fell in the Bay of Pigs, 
Cimino followed The Deer Hunter with Heavens Gate, somebody invented the 
Edselwe all miss. Get over it.
Im not in the mood for your snappy patter, Itzy.
You know what, Psy-4? Ill bet if youd been born to a Native American clan, 
they would have named you Dark Cloud. Give yourself a break already. Would it 
kill you to crack a smile every now and then, or are you afraid wed all run and 
tell?
Psy-4 removed his wool cap and rubbed his forehead, massaging the row of 
input/output connectors there.
A fine setting for a fit of despair, said Stonewall. If only I were 
standing here by accident instead of design.
Zac looked at him. And that is?
From Kafkas The Castle. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw Psy-4 
staring at him. It just came to me.
One corner of Psy-4s mouth almost turned upward to form something that might 
have resembled the minuscule beginnings of a half-grin.
Radiant huffed, slapping her arms down to her sides. I give up. I really do. I 
cant find the snap on the back of the damn strap. Help?
Scoot around, said Zac.
Radiant did so, lifting her silver hair so Zac could unhook the goggles.
Radiant pulled them away, then turned and smiled at Zac. Thank you.
Where her eyes should have been there were only two smooth craters of flesh, 
giving her face the appearance of a mannequin whose face had yet to be sketched 
on, let alone painted.
It detracted not one whit from her beauty, and she knew it. So did everyone 
else.
Its going to take hours to get the knots out of my hair, she said.
One more word about your hair, said Killaine, and itll be taking you days to 
get the knots out of your titanium spine.
Jealous? said Radiant.
Why should I be?
A shrug. Seemed as if all the men in the office were paying attention to me.
And its no wonder, what with the show you put on of removing your cap and
Catfight, catfight! shouted Itazura.
Shut up! said Killaine and Radiant simultaneously. A beat, then both looked at 
each other and laughed.
Zac laughed a little himself. Okay, okay, settle down. Everyone did a great 
job. Preston was very pleased.
Itazura snorted a laugh. Liar. Nothing personal.
Well, okay, maybe he wasnt exactly pleasedbut I sure am. One hundred and 
sixty thousand dollars tends to have that effect on me.
That, said Itazura, and knocking Preston down a peg or two. Oh, come on, 
Boss, admit it. Half the incentive to take that bet was knowing that youd get 
to see him eat crow.
Anything wrong with that?
Did I say there was?
No, replied Zac, but Im never sure with you. Besideswhy shouldnt I get a 
little enjoyment out of this? While I was busy building the five of you at 
WorldTech, Preston was becoming rich and respected by marketing programs that 
wed kicked around together.
Liar squared, said Itazura. Well, maybe not a liar, exactly, this time, 
butaw, dont look at me that way, Boss. The creep ripped off a bunch of your 
ideas, made a few minor modifications, slapped a different name to them, and 
marketed them as his own creations.
He is a very bright man.
And Hitler painted roses. So what? One good trait doesnt redeem a monster.
While Itazura and Zac continued their debate (the death match between Itzy and 
Killaine having reached an impasse), Radiant moved to the back, seating herself 
next to Psy-4 who, for a few moments, merely stared out into the night, 
oblivious of her presence.
She gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Psy-4? Whats wrong?
There wasthere was something there and we didnt have time to
look, if there was a delay, it was my fault. You know how I get sometimes. Im 
vain, I admit it. She reached up and began massaging the back of his neck. 
Come on, talk to me. I dont like seeing you this way.
Do I really not smile that much?
Well, no, to tell the truth, you dont. But Ive got a feeling this isnt about 
yourwhat did you call them? Your dreadful personality problems. This is much 
more than that. Tell me. Please?
Psy-4 looked at her, nodded his head, then placed one of his hands on top of 
hers. Youre not half as big a pain as Killaine says you are.
She says that about me? Why, the nerve of someI ought to
Psy-4s grip tightened. He pulled her closer. Weve got to get back in there.
In where?
Psy-4s reply was a cold stare.
PTSI? whispered Radiant. Why?
Psy-4 looked at the others, then back at her. Do you remember when we first 
entered the main building? On the ground floor?
Down thereso dark and lonely. That part?
Yes.
I remember you scared me. What happened?
Psy-4 took a deep breath, rubbed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose 
between his thumb and forefinger, then sighed. I heard someone crying when I 
telepathed with the computer system.
16
In his office, Samuel Preston sat drumming his fingers on the top of his desk, 
cursing under his breath.
His personal security guards and the two other guards stood silent and very much 
at attention on the far side of the office.
He had no idea what to do with them.
He sure as hell couldnt fire or reassign them.
And they were too good at their jobs to terminate.
Besides, he hated to waste good employees.
But that didnt mean he was above threats.
All right, he finally said. Heres the way it works. You saw the hidden 
doorway and staircase. I can tell you to not mention it to anyone but I cant 
tell you not to remember it. I have to live with that.
Never speak of that passage, understand? Not to me, not to each other, and most 
definitely not to anyone elsebecause if you do, Ill find out about it, and I 
dont give a tinkers damn which of you says something or whether or not the 
others know, youll all be expunged immediately. I dont mean simply killed; 
Ill have every last goddamn one of your records erasedSocial Security numbers, 
drivers license numbers, birth records, blood typesyou name it, itll be gone. 
Then I will have every one of your acquaintances, friends, and family members 
taken out.
Say one word about this, and within twenty-four hours there will be no trace 
anywhere on this earth or on the InfoBahn that any of you ever existed. Any 
questions?
Concerning what? asked one of the guards.
Concerning the hidden door.
What hidden door? said another guard.
Good boys, said Preston, then dismissed them with a wave of his hand.
As soon as he was alone, he reached into one of his desk drawers and removed an 
exquisite silver picture frame.
Stared at the three figures in the photograph under the glass.
And swallowed twice. Very hard.
He thought long and hard about what had happened here tonight.
It wasnt just the moneyhe had plenty of money, what hed lost had been 
nothingno; what ate at him was how easily Zac Robillards team was able to 
breach his security.
Even though hed employed the Catherine Wheel program, theyd somehow managed to 
crack it.
But how? Robillard had no idea of the modifications that Preston had made in the 
past five years, turning the Catherine Wheel into more than either of them had 
ever imagined.
He looked at the three figures in the photograph again and thought about the 
bright moments of youth that were all too quickly lost.
And the mistakes you sometimes made.
Oh, God, the mistakes.
He could feel the fire inside sparking back to life.
He laid the photograph facedown on his deskperhaps a bit too hard.
No human being could have done what they did, he said aloud to the lonely 
office, then popped two more pills into his mouth.
He picked up his phone, punched in a number, checked the time, almost hung up, 
then someone on the other end answered.
Its me, he said. I need to get in touch with Janus as quickly as possible.
Just saying the mans name made the blood chill in his arteries.
But he had to do it. His only other alternative would be to contact Annabelle 
Donohoe.
Anything was preferable to that.
Even dealing with a Class-A, #1, certifiable nuclear bomb of a dangerously 
unpredictable psycho like Janus.
Janus, he thought.
And the chill blood in Prestons arteries froze solid.
17
Time was the child had known happiness, hope, and acceptance.


123:18:22


But no more.
Never again. Not in this darkness. All this darkness.
Help me, he whimpered.
But no one answered. No one came.


123:18:02


Soon, it wouldnt matter. Soon, the darkness would be all.
And so the child remained still and silent.
But inside he was screaming.
  PART ONE



  WHEELS OF CONFUSION



  A dwarf standing on the shoulder of a giant may see further thant the giant 
  himself.
  Didacus Stella in Lucan, DE BELLO CIVILI



18
WEDNESDAY MORNING; THURSDAY NIGHT
109:53:42


Annabelle Donohoes expensively manicured fingernails, today sporting bloodred 
metallic polish, drummed rhythmically on the teak desk in her penthouse office 
in WorldTechs main building.
The incessant scritch-scratch-scrape sounded like the sharp, staccato cadence of 
a military drum beating the death march at an official execution.
Her face was backlit by rows of state-of-the-art track lighting and obscured 
somewhat by the wisps of smoke curling from the tip of her cigarette.
She sat hidden in shadows, except for her eyes, which shone with a bright, 
ominous anger visible from ten feet away.
She rose from her chair and leaned on the desk. A small light installed at the 
base of her intercom cast a diffuse glow upward, creating gothic shadows. Her 
face, though beautiful, looked like something out of the final reel of a 
black-and-white horror film. But that was all right.
Shed installed the light just for that effect.
She stared down at the well-dressed man who stood at the foot of the 
twenty-four-inch high dais that supported her desk. Well?
Very intimidating, madam, replied Simmons, her personal assistant.
Annabelles mouth twisted into a smile, which on her face fell somewhere between 
a smirk and a sneer. Everythings ready?
Yes, madam.
Then lets not keep our visitor waiting.
Very good, madam. Simmons turned and exited through the large wooden doors at 
the far end of the office. His Italian leather shoes whispered across the plush, 
dark carpeting.
It reminded Annabelle of the sound of a terminal cancer patients last death 
rattle of breath.
She found the sound not at all unpleasant.
She crushed out her cigarette, lit a fresh one, then positioned herself on the 
desktop so that the first thing her visitor would see was her left sideher most 
intimidating side, if the rumors she heard were to be believed.
She cast a quick glance at the seven-by-nine-foot photograph of the late actress 
Joan Crawford that covered a large portion of the wall behind her desk. Bette 
Davis had nothing on you, babe. Not even Dietrich could be as nasty.
Her free hand reached up and clutched the small locket that dangled on a fragile 
gold chain she wore around her surprisingly delicate throat. What did I know, 
she thought. What did I know of loves austere and lonely offices?
She drifted away for a moment, turned a corner in her mind, and tried to recall 
the name and author of the poem from which that line had come; as always 
happened when she went around that corner, she pulled in a slow melancholy 
breath, for it was only here, in this secret place that no one else knew or 
would ever know about, that she was not entirely in control of her destiny.
And that stuck in her throat like bile.
Nowhere on this earth was there anyone who believed more in controlling her own 
destiny than Annabelle. She refused to believe in luck, or happenstance, or fate 
and divine intervention. She had as a child, but now, as far as she was 
concerned, such flights of fancy were the last refuge of the hysteric: frantic 
attempts to explain chaosor at least give the appearance of having explained 
it. They were too easy and too cheap a way out of a dilemma.
Annabelle refused to shake her head and throw her hands up in thrashed 
capitulation to the incomprehensible machinations of the universe. No, not for 
her; she was a woman driven to answer all the questions at hand, to meet every 
challenge issued, or else succumb to the snarl altogether.
If she had to go down, she would do so fighting.
And probably take several dozen people with her.
But Annabelle Donohoe, CEO of WorldTech, had no intention of being brought down; 
not by the so-called turns of nonexistent Fate and especiallymost 
especiallynot by the back-alley, late-night duplicities of an underling who 
thought the quickest way up the rungs of this particular corporate ladder was to 
step on her toes, symbolic or otherwise.
She exhaled a plume of smoke, ran her tongue over her lips, moistening them, and 
then pulled her dress up just a tad higher, showing a bit more thigh than was 
necessary or professional.
She wanted to make the little twerp sweat in every possible manner.
The office doors opened and Simmons entered, followed by a young man in an 
expensive power suit that had been tailored to accentuate his well-toned body.
Annabelle swallowed her urge to laugh. With his dark, slicked-back hair, striped 
shirt, solid color tie, and suspenders, he looked like a throwback to the 
laughable Wall Street power brokers of the early 1980s. Of course, 80s retro was 
very in right now, and this twerp hadnt even a passing acquaintance with an 
original notion and so followed what hed been told was popular.
This is going to be fun, though Annabelle, knowing all too well how a tiger felt 
the moment before it snuffed out the life of a fleeing zebra.
Madam, said Simmons, closing the door behind him and gesturing toward the 
young man, Mr. Anton Tyler to see you.
Thank you, Simmons, she replied. Please remain in the room. She looked down 
through the smoke and shadows at Tyler. Richard Nixon recorded the 
conversations in the Oval Office when he was president; I prefer to have Simmons 
present. Of course you dont mind. It was not a question.
She pointed to a chair and Tyler took a seat, doing an admirable job of masking 
his anxiety.
So, Mr. Tyleror should I say Tye? Thats what everyone calls you, isnt it?
Yes, Ms. Donohoe, replied the young man. He had a surprisingly high voice for 
one whose form was so classically manly.
Oh, do lets dispense with the Ms. Donohoe nonsense, shall we? Call me 
Annabelle.
Iuh, I dont know that Im comfortable with
But I insist, interrupted Annabelle. I absolutely insist upon it. I wish for 
all gutsy folks to call me by my first name. She picked up a folder and tossed 
it over the desk, down into Tylers hands. Especially those who go behind my 
back and attempt to submit unflattering reports to the Board of Directors. I 
think that brand of gutsinessand its quite rare around hererequires that we 
dispense with formalities. Of course you agree with that, Tye.
His eyes widened with panic. Ms. Donouh, umAnnaMs. Donohoe, I can explain 
this.
You can? Did you hear that, Simmons? Our friend Tye here says he can explain 
the unflattering contents of those eleven and a half, impeccably-typed, 
single-spaced pages that he holds in his hands.
What a relief, madam.
Yes, I thought youd think so. She sat down, blew a puff of smoke down into 
Tylers face, and grinned as he coughed and waved away the cloud, trying to read 
the pages.
I trust my smoking doesnt bother you.
N-n-no, Ms. Donohoe. Not at all.
She blew another stream into his face. Im listening, said Annabelle.
Ill be honest with you, Ms. Donohoe
Honesty is good, I like honesty. Simmons, what are your feelings about 
honesty?
That it is the best possible policy, madam.
So were all agreed that honesty is whats needed here. I beg your pardon, Tye, 
I seem to have interrupted you once again. Please, do go on.
Tyler loosened his collar, stretched his neck, and rubbed his arm, already 
sweating more than Annabelle had hoped.
Do you think its hot in here, Tye?
Maybe just a little. I apologize, II seem to be running a slight fever.
Did you agree to the drug test this morning? I certainly hope so, Tye. Everyone 
here has to submit to it every three months or I send them on their merry, 
unemployed way.
Yes, maam, I did.
Oh, nodont you maam me, Tye. Maam is for English nannies and other 
assorted old maids. She moved around enough to expose a little more thigh and 
was pleased that the young mans eyes focused precisely where she wanted them 
to. You dont think Im an old maid, do you, Tye?
Not at all.
The barely contained lust in his gaze and words amused Annabelle no end.
Dont even think about it, Tye. Id chew you up and spit you out before you 
even had your shirt off.
IIm sorry if I was staring at
Youre perspiring, Tye. Temperature up a bit, is it?
He blinked. Yes, Ms. Donohoe.
Annabelle poured herself a healthy dose of cold water and sipped at it, reveling 
in the look on Tylers face as the ice tinked against the sides of the glass.
Ill tell you what, Tye; Im going to give you one chanceoneto explain to me 
why you did what you did, and if at any time during your explanation you sound 
even the least bit supercilious, Simmons over there is going to tie knots in 
your spine. Is any of that unclear so far? I could start again and talk slower.
No, youve made yourself quite clear, Ms. Donohoe.
His explanation wasnt precisely what Annabelle was expecting.
She listened with great interest as the little cockroach explained that hed 
been sent over from the main Accounting Division to secretly examine the books 
from the last five years, paying particular attention to the budgetary excesses 
of the last sixteen monthsspecifically, the money that Annabelle had allotted 
for the continued search for Zac Robillard and the five I-Bots.
The board has become seriously concerned about the money, time, and company 
resources that youvesquandered on this search, said Tyler. Some of the board 
members feel that youvewell, that youve
Gone a little overboard? prompted Annabelle.
Yes. The word theyve been using is obsessed.
Annabelle drummed her fingernails on the desk once again, louder this time, more 
forcefully. And what is your personal opinion, Tye? Do you think Im obsessed 
with Robillard and the I-Bots?
Its not my place to say, Ms. Donohoe. When my predecessor, Mr. James, resigned 
and left the company with all of his notes
Annabelle lifted her index finger and shook it from side to side, twice. 
Ah-ahbe careful you dont jump to conclusions, Tye. That can be hazardous to 
your health.
Tyler blinked, looked back at Simmons, then swallowed loudly as he wiped the 
sweat from his forehead. Im afraid I dont understand, Ms. Dono
You will. Annabelle walked away from her desk and pointed to the large 
photograph on the wall. Do you know who this woman is, Tye?
Cant say that I do.
Annabelle shook her head. Infidels, Simmons. Tyler here is among those pitiful 
infidels who havent the slightest idea who St. Joan was.
Most distressing, madam.
Isnt it? She returned her attention to Tyler. This was a great lady and 
great actress, Tye. Her name was Joan Crawford, and in her day she was the 
grande dame bitch of Hollywood. At one point in her life she was married to the 
CEO of Pepsi. When he died, he left all his stocks to her. Pepsis board of 
directors was a little uncomfortable with having a woman in charge of their 
company, and they asked her to step down. Do you know what she said to them, 
Tye? No, of course you dont. St. Joan laughed in their faces, refused to step 
down, and said to themand this is a direct quote from the minutes of that 
meetingDont screw with me, fellahs. I admire her. That declaration to 
Pepsis board of directors has been something of a mantra for me all these 
years.
She crossed back to her desk and pressed a button.
The giant photo of Joan Crawford hissed then began to slide slowly to the side, 
revealing something behind it.
Dont screw with me, fellah, said Annabelle, delighted at the way Tyler 
lookedas if hed just soiled his pants.
Behind the photo of St. Joan was a two-way mirror that looked into a shabby room 
where a shabby little man, bald and severely overweight, wearing a torn white 
shirt and split trousers, sat in a chair before a wooden table.
On that table were several empty bottles of liquor.
Recognize him? asked Annabelle.
Tyler blanched. My God, itsI mean, I cant be surebut it looks like Mr. 
James. We had been told that he resigned and
You were told what I wanted you to be told. Ive known for a good long while 
that someone on the board has been planting spies in here, and Im sick of it. I 
thought perhaps Jamess disappearance might get my message across to them, but 
your presence here proves that assumption wrongand I hate being wrong, Tye. You 
might want to keep that in mind. She snapped her fingers and Simmons joined 
them at the window, holding a small radio-control keyboard in the palm of his 
hand.
Theres a tribe in Africa, Tyewell, whats left of it, anywaycalled the 
Masai, and every so often they choose one of their elders, or a cripple, or some 
other useless member of the village, and they give them a huge party, then take 
them out into the jungle and leave them there for the hyenas to eat alive. Its 
their way of not only controlling the population but of thinning out those 
elements that might taint the purity of their tribal genetics. She nodded at 
Simmons, and her assistant extended the silver antennae attached to the device 
in his hands then pressed a switch that activated a red indicator light.
You keep an eye on your predecessor in there, said Annabelle to Tyler. 
Because right now Im going to tell you the same thing I told himand maybe 
youll listen. This world, Tye, from pole to pole, is a jungle. Whether that 
jungle is composed of vines and swamps or boardrooms and contractual pen 
strokes, its all the same, no different from the one where the Masai feed the 
hyenas. Its inhabited by various species of beasts, some that rut in caves and 
devour their young, others that wear tailored suits and dine on their business 
rivals broken stock speculations. All of these beasts have only one 
honest-to-God function, and that is to survive. There is no morality, no law, no 
imposed man-made dogma that will stand in the path of that survival. That 
humankind survives is the only morality there is. And for us to survive as a 
race, we must be superior, we must dominate all lesser creatures, and, in order 
to ensure that, it is not only vital but necessary to destroy, to eliminate, to 
thin out and expunge any undesirable element that threatens to stop the march of 
progress. Now, youre a smart young man, TylerIve seen your recordsso Im 
sure you know where this is going.
I dont think so.
Pity, because this has got one hell of a punch line. She snapped her fingers, 
and Simmons pointed the antennae toward the figure of James, then pressed a 
button.
James dropped to the floor and began to thrash around, screaming.
Besides the I-Bots program, Tyler, did you examine other budget records?
A few, but
Did you happen to glance at Nano-Tech Divisions records?
Briefly.
Then you know about the experiments weve been conducting with nanites.
I know a little about it but its not an area that Imwell, very knowledgeable 
in.
Annabelle looked at her assistant. Simmonsfill Mr. Tyler in on our most recent 
developments, will you? And Tye? Dont take your eyes off James in there. I like 
to provide a good floor show for selected employees.
And thats when Mr. Jamess flesh began to smoke.
19
and now there were bodies scattered on the ground in front of him as a result 
of the panic firing but Janus kept up his pace across the compounds main yard, 
increased it even, because nothing slowed him, nothing tired him, nothing 
stopped him, not even the bullets strafing down at him from the security towers. 
There was less gunfire now than a minute ago but that was only because they were 
getting ready to release the dogs. Hed expected that, and the gas, too, only 
someone had gotten impatient and given the order to use the bombs too soon and 
the yard was now impenetrable with gas clouds. Security guards were running this 
way and that, firing indiscriminately because they couldnt see a damned thing, 
and that was good, that was very good, because Janus always came prepared, hed 
put on his CX-47 mask and could breathe easily, and that was really, really 
good
the sirens were getting louder, screaming like monsters, and that wasnt so 
good, not so good at all because it was giving him a headache, but then a guard 
came out of the smoke plowing off shot after shot, a second guard fired off a 
round and accidentally caught the other right smack in the knee, pulping it, and 
the guard did a flip, landed hard, tried to crawl, and Janus smiled behind his 
gas mask because no one crawled too damned far with a kneecap gone, so he pulled 
the Colt Python from out of his shoulder holster and just to be a good sport 
about things blew the guards head clean off his shoulders on the way past 
because, after all, what was the guy going to do with the rest of his life, 
having a knee all shot to hell like that?
he rounded the last corner of the main yard and headed toward the gate that was 
now visible through the haze of gas and smoke and gunfire, but now there was the 
outline of another guard, one stupid hero guard armed with one mother of a 
semi-automatic rifle and Janus charged toward him with all he had and Mr. Hero 
got off a couple of shots, one pretty close, one grazing Januss shoulder, but 
that didnt stop him. He kept charging forward until he was close enough to make 
a fist of his right hand, a club of his arm, and one swing later the guard was 
out cold on the ground and Janus grabbed up the rifle and spun around, switching 
it from semi- to full-automatic, and with one squeeze of the trigger began to 
hose the yard behind him.
The scream of the sirens was nearly drowned out by those of the guards he was 
laying to their final rest on the hollow points of bullets, and now things were 
good again, things were very good indeed, so Janus let fly with one last burst 
of gunfire and ran through the gate into the snow-covered street, running, 
running, running along the route he planned out months ago, running toward the 
frozen lake and the special box of supplies hed planted there before breaking 
into the compound forty-seven minutes ago
he could hear them spilling out of the gates behind him, firing their warning 
shots, the idiots, but underneath the crackle of gunfire was the snarl of the 
dogs, so Janus picked up his speed and flew around a corner of the lake road and 
lo and behold thankya Jee-zus here came a car straight toward him, and the 
driver saw what he was in for and hit the brakes and the car came to a 
shrieking, fishtailing halt in a cloud of snow and ice but Janus didnt have 
time to be polite or even wait to see if the drivers side door was unlocked, so 
he just skidded up beside the car, blew out the window and most of the drivers 
skull with the last bullet from the Python, tossed the body out into the snow, 
slammed closed the door, ripped the car into drive, and took off in a straight 
line right through the middle of the guards, cutting through them like a machete 
through foliage, clipping a couple, fender slamming two of them, then he whipped 
the car around, skidding for all it was worth, but the driver had been a 
conscientious one, yessir, because the snow tires were good ones, giving Janus 
traction to spare, so it was easy for him to plow through the rest of this first 
wave of guards and dogs, flattening several of both like pancakes before 
flooring the accelerator and heading on down the lake road.
Six minutes later he was deep in the woods surrounding the frozen lake, 
discarding his clothing and slipping into his specially modified wetsuit, 
inflating it, strapping on his air tank, checking the oxygen regulator, donning 
the underwater mask.
The boots Janus wore were specifically designed for ice divers who, rather than 
chance the force of changing currents, chose to walk upside down below the ice. 
Five-inch spikes covered the soles of each boot. Nothing short of a bomb blast 
could loosen their hold once they were entrenched.
Janus activated the oxygen tank, put the regulator firmly into his mouth, swung 
the speargun strap around his chest, secured his quiver of spears to his person, 
and double checked to make sure he had the disks hed just stolen securely 
sealed in their protective case in his belt. His last pistol, a deadly Colt 
Anaconda .44 Magnum, was firmly held in a watertight holster strapped to his 
thigh. There were those who would probably think Janus paranoid for taking a gun 
underwater with him, but years of experience and wounds had taught him to take 
nothing for granted.
He had a gallery of scars from the rare occasions hed forgotten that rule.
Admittedly, hed made a few slips the last couple of years, but nothing serious, 
nothing hed told anyone about. Though he knew he might be getting too old for 
his particular line of work, he tried with all his still-considerable might to 
deny it.
Even to himself.
Especially to himself.
It was, perhaps, one of the few genuinely human foibles he possessed.
He checked his air timer: thirty minutes. More than enough time to get from here 
to the drying shed three-quarters of a mile down the lake.
Hed chosen this method for his getaway for several reasons, not the least of 
which was that he loved the peace that lay beneath the water. It would give him 
time to regroup after the violence at the compounda form of decompression that 
was necessary to keep himself in one solid mental piece.
Aside from the ethereal quiet he found beneath the ice, Janus had chosen this 
method of escape because many of the roads leading in and out of the area were 
too bombarded with snow and ice to be traveled by any vehicle besides a 
snowmobile, and a snowmobile would attract too much attention.
He lowered himself down into the hole in the ice hed cut earlier, steadied 
himself, then pushed back his legs as if readying for a somersault until he felt 
the spikes take hold.
A moment later, he was under the ice, walking across the lake upside down.
For the first fifteen minutes, his otherworldly walk was bliss. He had cut out 
two exit holes, in case of any trouble with the oxygen tank, but he didnt think 
hed need the spare exit.
Then he heard something like a drum. As he neared his exit, the sound became 
louder, and irregularnot like a drum at all.
The water, so much denser than air, conducted sound as air molecules never 
could. As a child, Janus had liked to lie in the bathtub, his ears in the water, 
and hear the enormous clanks and knocks his toy boats could make as they bumped 
against the porcelain. It made his boats real. Now Janus heard sounds that 
seemed like footsteps: far away, yet all around him, the water carrying 
vibrations too long for air to carry. As he approached his entrance, they did 
not seem to grow louder from therethe water unlocalized soundsrather, they 
grew louder from everywhere.
Janus stopped and stood still. Tried to listen. The sound was too confused.
Then, since he stood inverted, Janus looked down, as it seemed, and saw very 
clearly, in front of him, the footprint of a man on the ice.
One black, ripple-sole footprint. In front of him.
Another joined itperhaps the man had raised a knee to fix a boot.
Two black bootprints. Guards boots.
A guard from the compound was standing on the opposite side of the ice from him: 
right side up on the other side of the ice on which Janus stood upside down, 
like figures on a playing card.
Janus tried to figure out how the guard had gotten here so quicklyprobably used 
a hover-carthen decided it didnt matter.
The guy was here now, and that didnt figure into Januss scenario.
The ice was translucent, not transparent: Only the black boot soles pressing 
flat against the ice could be seen. Januss silver air bubbles began to congeal 
on the ices surface, and he stiffened, then decided they were too light for the 
guard to see. Januss boots, suspended from the ice by crampon spikes, should be 
similarly invisible.
The mans shadow fell across the ice.
Janus flinched and looked around, then he realized he cast no shadow in his 
otherworld.
The black soles turned, and Janus saw the unmistakable outline of a gun fall 
across the ice.
It looked thinbut that could be a trick of the light; thin and long like a 
rifle, not a gun youd use to hunt anything out on this ice. In winter there 
were only ducks and geese out on the marsh. Any hunter worth the price of his 
ammo would use a shotgun to hunt.
The outline turned again: Janus saw, unmistakably, the shadow of a protrusion 
above the barrel, thicker than the barrel, that began above the pistol grip and 
ran no more than a quarter of the barrels length, where it flared out in a 
bell. A scope.
Only rifles had scopes. Shotguns didnt even have ordinary sights.
The bootprints started walking in front of him. Janus followed them, walking 
upside down beneath the man, a pace behind him.
From the way the bootprints stopped, made half-turns to each side, and from the 
way the shadow of the rifle swept in an arc along Januss glowing ice, back and 
forth, Janus knew for certain this was a guard.
The bootprints kept onJanus stalking the stalker. He found them moving in a 
curve toward some point. Every five steps the prints would stop, the long 
compound shadow of the rifle and scope would sweep along the ice like a shadow 
searchlight across a glowing sky, then the bootprints would continue. Janus 
gradually became sure.
His mouth twisted.
Hunting me.
Janus followed the bootprints in their curve, certain they were heading for his 
second exit hole. They were waiting for him to come up.
Good God! And I think of myself as an intelligent person. Hed cut the hole in 
his idiosyncratic way. He had his own ways by now.
He had cut his exit hole near the ice divers drying shed a quarter-mile away. 
He hoped they hadnt found the shed, but theyd guess it wouldnt be far from 
the hole. Theyd know he would freeze into a statue unless he could get inside 
shelter quickly once he came up. The water was never colder than twenty-eight 
degrees, but the wind above on the lake gave a chill factor of sixty below zero 
on this ice. That was the rate at which he would turn into an ice statue unless 
he dried off within a very few minutes of surfacing. How in Gods name could he 
get out of this? He had only the Anaconda .44 Magnum pistol and the speargun; 
they each had guns, he presumed. He didnt doubt there was another guard up 
there, may be more. Theyd know it wasnt safe for only one of them to try to 
take him.
Janus trailed along beneath the guards bootprints and the guns searching 
shadow. This was what you wanted, wasnt it? You against them? But not here, 
Janus thought.
Dinoflagellates twinkled above him. He walked shod in silver on the glowing 
pearl of the ice.
And marring his pearl: black bootprints, and the shadow of a gun.
They were at the exit hole. Hed sunk an Ikelight below it for safety. The 
clouds overhead were thick, perhaps they had noticed his light, even so deep? 
Was it too strong, the Ikelight? No. Theyd just been lucky. But if he survived 
this he wouldnt use the Ikelight any more if an assignment involved ice-diving. 
Thered be more chance of becoming lost beneath the ice, but it would be better 
than this: one single-shot speargun against the rifle.
Ahead he saw more shadows by his entrance hole.
Another pair of black bootprints.
The prints Janus was following reached the other set and they faced each other, 
conferring. Shadows now of two guns, two scopes.
Two men with rifles waiting at his exit hole. Odds were they knew his single 
tank couldnt carry much more than forty minutes worth of air.
Im dead, Janus thought.
He could feel a tug when he tried to breathe and had a spasm of fear. Sucking at 
the air as the tank emptied was like trying to breathe through a pillow pressing 
tighter and tighter against his face.
That wasnt his only problem. He had lost great quantities of body heat the 
whole time he was underwater. Not just from the exhaustion; the water, with a 
specific heat exactly one thousand times greater than air, had been conducting 
warmth away from his body twenty-five times as rapidly as air would at this 
temperature, Fahrenheit twenty-eight. The lake had been leeching heat from 
himheat of energy, of strength and redemption, of life itselfwhile he was 
under.
He had only a very small reserve.
The shivering and the coldness he felt in his hands were signs his extremities 
had already fallen below ninety-seven degrees Fahrenheit. His bodys 
thermoregulatory system had turned on its defense mechanisms and hed begun to 
shiver.
Damn!
Heavy shivering increased the bodys basal heat production five to seven times. 
The vasoconstriction called gooseflesh meant his skin had begun sealing itself 
tighter to keep body heat in, stop blood flow to his periphery, where heat 
evaporated faster, and preserve it around his core organs. These were signs his 
body was chilling toward death, had gone through its heat and fallen onto its 
last reserve.
It was getting damn cold under here.
His blood temperature was dropping too fast.
Time was running out on him.
They knew it.
He knew it.
All Gods chillun knew it.
All they had to do was wait him out. Perhaps that was why they were both at the 
hole now, anticipating his return.
He couldnt think of alternatives. He could walk to some spot of shallow ice by 
a tide island and break his way out easily enoughand freeze to death. More than 
air, he needed to get into that drying shed, which his heater had been warming 
since he began this assignment, where hot liquid was waiting in a thermos, where 
his cache of Just-In-Case weapons was sitting, andmost importantwhere his 
two-way radio waited, powered by a portable generator that had maybe thirty 
minutes worth of juice left.
If his core temperaturethe deep tissue areas of his body, as opposed to his 
extremitieshad fallen only two degrees Fahrenheit below normal, to ninety-seven 
degrees, or thirty-six Celsius, as he thought of it, then Janus had already 
begun to die of hypothermia. When his deep tissues reached thirty-four degrees 
Celsius his brain would begin to go, and at thirty-two Celsius his heart.
In the wind above, that could happen within minutes. Even if he could manage to 
kill them within two minutes of his exposure to the air, there was a chance 
there might be damage to his brain.
Janus stood upside down, opposite the guards standing above him. All they had to 
do was wound him badly and everything would go haywireeven if he killed them. 
In his current situation, even a mere scratch could prove instantaneously fatal. 
He had to kill them; all they had to do was hit him. And he was wildly 
outgunned. Janus, fumbling in the cold, removed his tri-cut point from his 
speargun and took a stempoint from his bandolier. He could take one shot, but 
then he would have to reload. There were, after all, two of them.
Janus looked at his timer. Seven minutes of oxygen left. His cheeks inside the 
mask were collapsing as he sucked air like a baby straining at an empty bottle. 
It took precious effort not to panic.
A pair of bootprints stood near the hole. Januss heart beat intensely: Near 
enough?
He walked underneath the man and knelt, inverted directly below him. He studied 
the boot soles. Rubber. Really meant for mud. Not bad for ice, but Januss 
spikes would have the edge on traction.
Where there was an ice break like his exit hole, water usually bled around it 
for several feet. The weight of the ice pressing down on the entire lake kept 
forcing water slightly up, like a pressure valve giving. Helpers would spread 
sand by the hole if they were backing up an ice diver so that they wouldnt 
slide in. But Janus had no backup crew; he hadnt prepared the ice with sand. 
Immediately next to the hole, then, he could hope for a slight slick on the 
surface, over and beyond the slipperiness of the ice.
Was the man close enough?
As Janus watched, the bootprints stepped closer, and the gun shadow swung in the 
arc he knew. The guard was scanning: His gaze was raised.
Janus dug his spikes into the ice and reached out of the water.
The guard, from the corner of his eye, saw something black move out of the water 
and seize his eye, saw something black move out of the water and seize his 
ankle: Januss suited arm and mitt. Before the guard could fire, Janus pulled 
him across the slick ice and into the hole.
To Janus, it was as if he had pulled the man, upside down, into a cloud of air 
bubbles that lived in his world. The guard fought like a great fish hauled on a 
line from the depths but he weighed nothing. Janus held on to him and tottered 
away from the hole, carrying him at arms length. Even under water the guards 
gun fired twice, but he couldnt aim. The thousands of bubbles this manfish had 
brought with him moved upward to the ice and rolled about, trapped against the 
frozen surface of the lake. The guard gasped and struggled exactly like a fish 
in air, except that he kept seeming to want to fly upward out of Januss hands.
His boot kicked Janus in the face, and Januss mouthpiece wrenched out but Janus 
held his breath, keeping the guard above him like a weight lifter pressing a 
barbell over his head, going for a world recorduntil he saw the guard take 
heavy gasps of water and go inert. The gun finally slipped from the mans grip. 
Janus let him go and got his mouthpiece back in. He was so cold he was dizzyhis 
stomach and chest felt like frozen lead. The guards body, like a slow balloon, 
floated up in space and hung among the starfish.
Beneath his feet Janus saw, in flashes, the bootprints of the other guard 
appearing and disappearing on the ice. Janus pulled desperately on the scraps of 
air in his regulator, but the pillow was pressing tighter and tighter across his 
face. He tried to prepare, but the cold was reaching his brain and slowing it 
down.
This guard must have seen the first go under, perhaps seen where all the bubbles 
the first one brought in coagulated, because suddenly there was a terrible noise 
inside Januss head, inside it, all around it, and from the center of the bubble 
mass he saw a streak of bubbles fly through the ice as fast as a tracer bullet 
in wartime night.
The guard, panicked, was shooting at the ice.
Janus moved away from the bubbles as shot after shot punched through, each 
bullet marked by a brilliant silver bubble trail that bent in the water after a 
few yards and arced in all directions.
Janus pushed himself away from the eruptions.
The bullets followed.
This guard had quickly learned to distinguish where Januss bubbles were beneath 
the ice.
Janus held his breath and moved. The bubble he had breathed a second ago bounced 
down his side and reached the ice. A second later a bullet burst up through it, 
angled in the water, and almost caught him. He saw the trail of bubbles it made 
go past his eyes.
Janus made a sharp right. Inadvertently some air left the regulator and reached 
the ice. A bullet came up through it instantly.
Janus guessed, and made a quick dodge backward. He was rightfour bullets pulled 
up through the ice in the direction he had been going. The guard had seen the 
track of the bubbles and was leading him. He was a better hunter than the one 
Janus had just killed. Januss air was nearly gone and he was freezing: He 
couldnt keep this up much longer.
He held his breath and angledno bullets. The guard must be changing clips. To 
fire so quickly the gun must be a semiautomatic.
Janus crouched, let out one breath, pushed the shaking bubble with his hands, 
and sprang away from it. The second it hit the ice a bullet lanced it, probing 
for him.
Janus moved in a circle, trying to get his little speargun into position to 
fire. Each time he breathed he shoved the bubble from him and danced a different 
way to the side. The bullets came up through them, the water shook with the 
sound, but he was not hit. Janus fought to watch the bootprints with one eye and 
the bullets with the other. His mask limited his field of vision dangerously. 
Janus circled, working to get the open entrance hole between him and the 
bootprints.
A bullet, perhaps an hysterical shot, came through the ice almost at Januss 
feet.
The guard was close to the hole now, on the other side from Janus. The last few 
shots he had been pivotingJanus would see the heels disappear as the man rose 
to his toes in the pivot. The ice, Janus imagined, must now be awash from the 
fountains of water that had sprung up whenever the bullets plunged through the 
ice. The man was not trying to move on the slick ice but was wisely holding 
still, turning, then aiming his weapon. Janus doubted that, unless he was an ice 
diver, the guard knew his boots could be seenand he could see nothing of Janus 
but the ghosts of bubbles.
Janus blew breath out, pushed the bubbles behind him and to the left, leaped 
with his ten-pound weight a long moon-leap sideways from the boots so that at 
last he had the open water of the exit hole between him and the guard. Thunder, 
water vibrations; bullets whizzed like bees through his bubbles as they touched 
ice. Janus landed kneeling. Through the shining surface he saw, as if beneath 
him, blue sky and the gray parka of the guard, aiming a long brown stick toward 
the water. The water magnified everything, so that Janus saw the guard, shimmery 
but large; saw the gun fire and kick; saw him as clearly as if he, Janus, knelt 
on a rock, and looked at a six-foot-long fish just beneath him in the clearest 
water.
The guard would see him just as clearly, too.
Before the guard could swing his gun and shoot through the hole, Janus fired. 
The spearguns stempoint, nine times larger than a .45 Magnum round, hurled up 
out of the water into the guards stomach, glanced off the inside of his ribs, 
andwith the one-ton stainless cable holding it to the stemthe five-inch blade 
swung like a clock hand inside the mans tissues, from eleven oclock to five 
oclock, slicing through half the organs in his body.
Janus saw the print of the guard suddenly on the ice. One cheek and the side of 
his nose were pressed against it, enlarged, like a childs against a store 
window, and his rifle was trapped beneath him.
Janus straightened and walked around the hole. The guard lay under his feet. The 
ice turned pink: The icewater on the surface had diluted the blood.
Janus looked up. The guard lay, arms stretched above his head, like a ballet 
dancer.
Janus no longer felt anything when he killed. Gore no longer startled him.
God, it was so hard to breathe; he sensed his reason going. Get out. Janus 
stepped over the hole into the other world. The suit ascended.
Hooking his inflated legs over the edge, then drawing his floating body out with 
short pulls of the spikes, Janus lay, suited, in the water beside the hole, 
looking at sky. He ripped his mask aside and breathed.
Janus pressed his suit valve down, deflated it.
He stood up, slowly.
The enormous weight of his body returned as the Earths pull reasserted itself. 
He had not weighed more than ten pounds during the last thirty minutes, and now 
he weighed one hundred and seventy. It was like being yoked with cannonballs. 
The extra fifty pounds of his tank was a crushing weight on his back.
Janus looked down at the water and felt dizzy, looked up at sky and felt 
confusedout of his element.
The guard lay next to him in a red pool already partly frozen. Janus put down 
his pistol. He would hide the man in the water.
As soon as the Anaconda left Januss hands he heard someone say, Hold it right 
there.
Idiot!
Why had he thought thered be only two guards? Hover-cars moved fast and 
furiously, could cover half a mile in a few seconds. The sound of shooting must 
have been heard for miles along the ice! They probably fired up the first of the 
hover-cars before hed even escaped the compound. Oh, you moronic horses ass!
The ice was forming white crystals around Januss suit. The skin on his face 
tightened: Ice crystals were covering it. He had to dry off.
He was preparing himself to turn and face them downhe thought now only in terms 
of them because to think otherwise could be lethal at this pointand had just 
begun to pivot when he saw a thin leather strap come flying down across his 
field of vision. He managed to get his hand up in time to prevent the strip from 
constricting around his throat.
Janus spun around, his would-be strangler holding tight, and saw that there was, 
indeed, a fourth guard. This one had a pistol and was trying to aim at Januss 
head but there was too much movement right now for the guy to get off a good 
shot. Any hit right now would just be lucky, even though the guy could take 
Janus with it if he was quick enough, which he wasnt, but that was all right 
with Janus because right now he was dominated by pain both from within and 
without, and pain changed his world, put a cloud around him that he couldnt see 
through, preventing him from acting in accordance with logic and experience and 
training.
For a moment, as the thin leather strap cut into the flesh of his hand, Janus 
was feeble and clouded and clumsy and ripe for death.
Standing stock-still, a target on a shooting range.
But the other guard, the kid with the gun, was too slow and the moment went by.
Januss brain began to clear. Youre the best there is! he raged at himself. 
Maybe youre getting too old for much more of this shit, but right now you are 
STILL THE BEST THERE IS and you have to do something NOW!
He hit those words hard in his mind because the kid with the pistol was moving 
around, trying to get a decent aim again, and so what if his mind was clearing 
up, a bullet could crush clear tissue as well as cloudy, and the Strangler 
behind him was strong, almost as strong as Janus, and he had to use that to 
advantage somehow, had to do something extraordinary, something remarkable, 
unique and awe-inspiring, that was all, nothing to it, and he had to do it in 
the next five seconds.
Go.
And think about raising your rates next time.
The Strangler was strong but the Strangler was shorter than Janus
the kid with the gun was getting closer
the Strangler was quick but the Strangler was now stationary
the kid raised the gun into the firing position, supporting his firing arm with 
his free hand, a classic shooting-range stance
so if you can budge the Strangler, if you can unsettle his balance, if you can 
do that
Janus faked going right
and went right.
The kid whirled left and fired into empty air and the surprise on his face was 
all that Janus needed; he powered everything he had into completing the next 
move, and behind him he could feel the Stranglers strip loosen slightly as the 
mans balance momentarily deserted him
and with all the power in his great body, Janus hunched forward, pulling the 
Strangler with him, and when he had his balance, Janus put all of his strength 
into a shoulder throw, sailing the Strangler helplessly over him and into the 
too-slow kid.
The two of them went down hard on the ice, and the kid was stunned as he hit, 
losing his grip on his weapon, and the gun skidded across the ice. Janus saw it 
but so did the Strangler, and the Strangler went for it, scrabbling and sliding 
along the ice like a desperate roach.
Janus let him.
His right hand was next to useless, bruised and bleeding from the leather strap, 
so he merely watched as the Strangler got closer to the gun
then Janus kicked the Stranglers head off
or tried to; the Strangler was ready and grabbed Januss foot and snapped it 
around, tripping himbut not before Janus got off one good spiked kick into the 
Stranglers shoulder, following it up with a blow from his left hand, but it 
only grazed the Stranglers head because even on his knees, even still dazed 
from the throw, even bleeding from the deep gashes left by Januss spikes, the 
Strangler could still move, and Janus went for another left-hand blow, and again 
the Strangler spun free; another left-hand barely connected as the Strangler 
writhed and twisted, and he really was like a roach, a waterbug that you could 
see and chase but somehow never catch, and both of them went for the gun then, 
but it was clumsy going, pained going, skidding-on-the-ice going, and when Janus 
saw that he might not get to the gun first he kicked at it and sent it spinning 
toward the exit hole and smiled as it teetered on the edge then fell in with a 
soft plop! The Strangler chopped him on the neck, but Janus faked sideways 
enough so that the Strangler missed a death spotbut that didnt mean it didnt 
hurt like hell, didnt make his nerves shriek, didnt start his brain to 
clouding again, whichcoupled with his desperate need for heat, for warmth, for 
dryingserved to slow him momentarily, but Janus would not allow that to 
happennot for long, anywayIf I cloud, Im gone, its that simpleso he 
wriggled away from the Stranglers grip and connected with a spiked kick to the 
side of the Stranglers head, ground-zero on a death spot, and when his spiked 
boot hit, there was a double cry of pain, and who was to say whose was the 
greater agony, his or the Stranglers. All Janus could be sure of was that the 
Stranglers was over a lot sooner.
Gasping, cramping, bleeding, Janus managed to get to his feet, then moved past 
the dead Strangler and finished off the kid quietly before staggering into the 
drying shed. It was so blessedly warm, so heavenly toasty and welcoming, and he 
fell onto the pile of blankets hed left there, wrapping himself in them like a 
child hesitant to leave its mothers womb, and then he reached for the thermos 
of hot tea and sipped it, then gulped it, not caring about the searing pain in 
his throat, and soon he was able to breathe easily and move freely with only a 
little agony. He managed to get out of his wetsuit and into some dry, warm 
clothes, taking care to check out the window for signs of other guards who might 
have heard the shooting earlier, and as he looked he saw maybe a dozen 
hover-cars rising out of the compound, swarming together, massing like dark, 
angry hornets, but before they could clear the distance the air ignited in a 
thunderous flash and Janus grinned because the first of the six bombs hed set 
in the compound were now detonating, seven seconds apart, and would level 90 
percent of the main building by the time they were finished, so that meant he 
was probably safe for a little while, thirty minutes topsand that reminded him 
about the radio, so he staggered over and flicked it on, turned the transmission 
dial until he got the frequency he needed, instructed the person on the other 
end to patch him through, and when the person he wanted to speak to was on the 
other end, Janus said, Its Come-and-Get-Me-Time.
Did you get the disks?
Youll have to pick me up to find out, wont you?
Im not in the mood for attitude, Janus.
Neither am I. I need medical attention, so have a doctor ready.
Youll have everything you need. Give me your location and Ill have the 
chopper airborne in five minutes.
Youd have a little trouble landing where Im at. He gave them an alternate 
location, a field less than half a mile from his present location. Ill be 
there in twenty minutes.
The chopper will be waiting.
It damned well better be, said Janus, or your precious disks are going right 
into the lake.
What a trusting soul you are.
Just my warm and fuzzy nature. Dont be late.
And with that, he killed the connection, gathered up his weapons, and set about 
preparing to blow up the shed and most of the ice supporting it.
20
It took Mr. James a lot longer to die than Annabelle had estimated.
Not that she didnt have the stomach for such things; for her, watching someone 
whod betrayed her die was akin to stepping on a worm wriggling on a hot 
sidewalk, and carried about as much guilt.
Still, it was fun to watch the expressions on Tylers young face as he watched 
the other man begin to fry from the inside out.
And all the while, behind him, there stood Simmons, reciting the facts aloud in 
that delightful, clipped, and (Annabelle thought) subtly sexy watered-down 
British accent of his.
What youre watching, Mr. Tyler, is the fruition of Ms. Donohoes improvements 
on the function of nanites.
Tyler, not moving his gaze from James, said, W-w-whatre those?
Nanites are used for manufacturing on the molecular level, sir, said Simmons 
patiently, as if addressing a slow-witted child. They are, for all intents and 
purposes, microscopic-sized robots. The one in Mr. Jamess system looks 
something like a mechanical spider.
They are programmed to build anythingorganic and inorganicfrom the base up, 
including themselves. They can self-replicate.
What hes saying, whispered Annabelle in Tylers ear, is that all we have to 
do is introduce one preprogrammed nanite into a persons system, and within a 
few hours there can be thousands, millions, theoretically trillions, of them 
swimming along with the cells.
Then, said Simmons, they begin the process of breaking down, then rebuilding 
a persons molecular structure, causing a chemical reaction that turns a human 
being into a time bomb.
It all has to do with quarks and something known as the X-Particle Theory and 
gets a bit complicated, said Annabelle, but the upshot of all this is that we 
have produced nanites that can force a human body to spontaneously 
combustproviding that there is a sufficient amount of alcohol in their system 
at the time. Over ninety percent of all cases of spontaneous human combustion 
involve individuals who have been drinking heavilymuch as you were last night, 
Tye.
How did you know
Shhh, said Annabelle. I know everything, dear boy. Havent you figured that 
out by now? But, please, watch dear Mr. James.
On the other side of the two-way mirror, Jamess skin began to ignite; first his 
arm burst into flame, then his legs, then his stomach, and within moments his 
entire body was aflame.
It didnt last long.
With a near-blinding flash of smoke and light, Jamess body exploded, drowning 
the room in flames.
Bits of sticky, seared, unidentifiable tissue slammed against the mirror and
Stayed in place.
It was grotesque.
Unspeakable.
And, to Annabelle, at least, wholly deserved and justified.
She crossed back to her desk, pressed the button, and the gigantic image of St. 
Joan slid back into place, hiding the ugly, horrifying aftermath on the other 
side.
Very impressive, dont you think?
Tyler couldnt speak.
This pleased Annabelle.
Greatly.
Too moved to find your voice? I understand. So you can just listen for a 
moment. She nodded to Simmons, who walked to the other end of the room and 
opened one of three wall safes in Annabelles office.
From the safe he removed two items: a small glass vial with a rubber-stop top 
and a black case.
Last night, Tye, did you have a good time with the blonde you met atoh, at 
that clubwhat was its name, Simmons?
The Shalott, madam.
Thats right, the Shalottthough I doubt anyone who works there knows the name 
was stolen from Tennyson. Anyway, Tye, did you have a good time with her?
His face was turning ash white now, but he managed to nod his head.
I understand that you were pretty plotzed on Cutty Sark, is that right?
Another terrified nod.
Too bad you passed out before getting to the main event. Tawny said she thought 
you were cute and she wouldve been happy towell, you know. She put out her 
hand and Simmons placed the glass vial into her grip.
Annabelle showed the vial to Tyler.
Do you know what this is, Tye? The boys in the lab have dubbed it Liquid 
Burn. Has a nice ring to it. This is a massive swimming pool where one of my 
nanites is having a relaxing swim. You see, the thing is, most people have the 
impression that a nanite can only be introduced into the human system by 
injection. Not true. All it takes is for someonesay, a busty blonde named Tawny 
whos looking for a way to advance her careerto unstop a vial like this and 
pour the liquid into another persons Cutty Sark. Do you see where Im going 
with this?
yes
Sorry, didnt quite catch that. Simmons, could you make out what Tye here was 
saying?
Afraid not, madam. My hearing isnt what it used to be.
Care to repeat what you just said, Tye?
said that, yes, I can see where this is going.
So now you know why youre feeling a bit feverish, right?
Yes.
And youve undoubtedly surmised, bright boy that you are, that the drug test 
this morning was simply our way of checking to see if the nanite had succeeded 
in self-replicating.
Yes.
Care to know how its doing, Tye?
Does it matter?
Very much so. Right now, judging by the amount of nanites found in your blood 
cells, there are roughly three hundred billion of my little friends tearing you 
down bit by bit at the molecular levels as we speak. The fact that you havent 
yet ridded your system of the vast quantities of Cutty from last night is a 
definite plus.
Tyler swallowed, wiped his soaked brow, then raised his head, trying to meet her 
gaze. Howhow long do I have untiluntil
Until you do the James Jump? About three hours. Weve developed three different 
strains of nanites, you see. Jamess were the least destructive. The ones in 
your system are the second strain, much nastier, and on a timer. Unless, of 
course, we choose to override their programming and press a certain button. 
But She purposely didnt finish.
Tyler jumped up from his chair and started toward her.
One of Simmonss massive hands gripped his shoulder like a vice and forced him 
back down into his seat.
But what? shouted Tyler.
Annabelle put out her other hand.
Simmons handed her the small black case.
But, said Annabelle, there is a way around any further unpleasantness. All 
you have to do is tell me which member of the board has been planting spies like 
you in my company.
She opened the case, then held it out so Tyler could see the contents.
A hypodermic syringe, shiny and clean, nestled like a sleeping baby in a red 
velvet cradle.
Care to guess what this is, bright boy?
please
He was nearly in tears.
Sweat had ruined his shirt.
His meticulously coiffed dark hair hung down in his face like vines.
Annabelle felt elated.
She had broken him.
This syringe contains, naturally, the closest thing to an antidote that the lab 
boys have managed to create. While it wont destroy the nanites in your system, 
it will erase their programming and prevent them from manufacturing any more of 
themselves. Theyll be harmless enough, though theyll remain in your system 
forever.
But at least youll be safe, Tye. All you have to doshe removed the syringe, 
held it in the light where it glistenedis give me the name of the board member 
who put you up to this. Thats all. One name, and your life is yours once 
again.
Theylltheyll have me killed, he whined.
No, they wont. If anyone is going to have that pleasure, it will be me. She 
pushed the plunger slightly, watching as the tip of needle spewed forth a tiny 
amount of liquid. Your call, Tye.
He stared at her face.
Then the needle.
Then the photo of St. Joan.
Would youIm sorry, Tye, Ive been rude: Would you like another look at whats 
left of Mr. James?
NO! he screamed, then began to weep. All right. All right.
He gave her the name she wanted.
Annabelle gave Simmons the syringe.
Simmons gave Tyler the shot.
Everybody was happy.
One last thing, Tye, said Annabelle, leaning down and placing one of her hands 
against Tylers cheek. I wouldnt tell anyone about this if I were you. 
Suddenly, her hand became a clamp that snapped up and closed on his face, 
squeezing with such power it was easy to believe the bones in his skull were 
going to implode from the pressure. I am everywhere, Tye, hear me? There is 
nowhere in this world you can go, no hole deep enough, no cave dark enough, 
where I dont have an operative. Thats not a threat, bright boy, just a simple 
statement of fact.
This is the threat: Mention this to anyone, tell anyone, even allude to it, and 
I promise you that you will never feel safe in your world again. Im afraid I 
pulled a little Agatha Christie on you. The nanites in your system have had 
their programming erased, but that in no way means they have been rendered 
useless. She snatched up the small palmtop unit and turned it toward him, the 
button clearly visible. If I choose to, I press this button and the nanites in 
your system will do the James Jump. Understand me? Think of them in terms of an 
unexploded bomb: harmless as long as I dont decide to press this button. She 
pulled her other hand away from his face, making sure to dig a couple of her 
fingernails into his cheek as she did so.
Drawing his blood, she felt satisfied.
Ooops, she said coyly. Im afraid thats going to leave a nasty scar.
Simmons escorted Tyler from the office.
Annabelle turned and faced St. Joan.
After a few moments, she began to cry.
Gently fingering the locket.
What did I know? She thought. What did I know of loves austere and lonely 
offices?
It was several more moments before she became aware of Simmonss presence in the 
room.
Not bothering to hide or wipe away her tears, she turned and faced her 
assistant. What is it?
Are you all right, madam?
No, Im not all rightand why do you persist in calling me madam when were 
alone? Surely weve gone beyond that in the years weve been together.
Because the word is more than a mere formality to me, Simmons replied. It 
symbolizes the respect I have for youthe respect youve earned.
He began fixing a drink for her. Might I inquire what youd like for me to do 
with the information Mr. Tyler provided?
You know perfectly well what I want you to do.
Simmons handed her the drink. Just double checking, madMs. Donohoe. He 
smiled. I have you to thank for that. Theres no such thing as being too 
cautious. You said that.
Annabelle smiled at him. You know, Simmons, youre the only one who understands 
me. Sometimes I think youre the only friend I have.
I like to think of myself as your friend.
Annabelle took a sip of the drink. Then another. But you still know I wouldnt 
hesitate to have you killed if you ever betrayed me.
Anything less would disappointment me.
Annabelle nodded her head, took another sip. Oh, if those fools on the board 
had any idea how much Robillard and those damned I-Bots cost me personallyand 
Im not just talking about the money and face, Simmons.
ImIm well aware of what they cost you. And if I may, Id like once again to 
tell you how very sorry I am that
I know, said Annabelle, clutching the locket so tightly it made her hand hurt. 
And I appreciate it. Then: Was there some specific reason you came in here?
Yes. You have an urgent call.
Why didnt you tell me that right away? she snapped, crossing quickly to her 
desk.
You were upset, Ms. Donohoe. As far as I am concerned, nothing is so urgent as 
that.
Annabelle grinned at him. Dont you dare start getting sentimental on me now, 
Simmons.
I will go out and purchase a copy of The Cynics Manifesto immediately.
You do that.
Simmons left the office.
Annabelle took another sip of her drink, set it on her desk, looked toward St. 
Joan for divine guidance, and answered the phone. Yes?
Its Come-and-Get-Me Time, said Janus.
21
Something was wrong.
She could sense it.
Smell it.
Feel it.
But if anyone had asked, she would not have been able to say exactly what was 
setting her nerves on end.
Killaine thought, This doesnt make sense, being this paranoid so soon.
She was having a hard time keeping pace with Zac as they made their way through 
the maze of alleyways toward the Scrapper camp.
It amazed her how quickly her creator moved, considering how heavy the duffel 
bag slung over his shoulder was.
The backs of the buildings here ran to three stories of dirty brick. Near the 
rear stoops were Dumpsters and garbage cans with all the attendant scrawny dogs 
and starving cats prowling for sustenance.
The air carried the smell of decay; rotting food and motor oil and animal waste 
and old sweat mixed with the rich, loamy scent of mud and the sharp, stinging 
odor of
metal.
Most human beings would probably mistake it for the smell of ozone, this scent, 
but Killaine knew the scent of metal well. She inhaled it every time she 
undressed for bed at night.
Shed always thought that a bit odd; even though she was covered in synthetic 
flesh from head to toe, she could still smell the metal underneath the skin.
And it wasnt just her; on more than one occasion, Itazura and even the vain 
Radiant had confided the same thing to her.
She took one last deep breath, nearly gagged on the cumulative stench of the 
dank alleyways, and decided to power-down her olfactory system until they were 
well away from this awful place.
Still, she couldnt rid herself of the feeling.
Something was wrong.
She knew it.
To make matters worse, rain was pounding down from the black morning sky, 
hitting the iron overhangs, each drop sounding like a bullet fired from a 
high-powered weapon.
Rain puddled at their feet, deepening the mud, making each step more precarious 
than the one before.
Rain flowed from the roof gutters, creating blurry waterfalls that obscured 
their vision.
Rain slid along the railings of the fire escapes like shiny pin-balls in the 
tracks of arcade machines, pooling on the mesh landings, dribbling down like 
tears.
There was no way it could have been any more oppressive.
Or depressing.
Or potentially unnerving.
And it wasnt even ten A.M. yet.
Killaine hated days that started off like this.
A few yards ahead of her and Zac, their silent guide turned and gestured for 
them to hurry.
Bloody Scrapper, she thought, fisting both her hands.
Not that she had any intention of doing the Scrapper harm; for one thing, it 
wasnt in her nature; for another, she thought it a waste of effort.
As if hed read her mind, Zac suddenly slowed his pace in order to speak with 
her. I know your feelings about the Scrappers, Killaine, and Id appreciate it 
if you didnt do or say anything to offend them.
Ill not be lying to you, Zachary, Ive never cared for their type.
Zac shook his head. You sure didnt get that from me.
Maybe its my inherent Irish clannishness. She smiled.
Zac did not return her smile. You know, dont you, that I vehemently detest 
that particular characteristic in you?
You could always erase it from my
never! Dont even joke about something like that.
Killaine immediately felt ashamed of herself. Shed only been trying to win the 
argument by any means necessarya characteristic that none of the I-Bots found 
particularly endearingand thought she could gain the upper hand by making an 
absurd suggestion.
She could see how deeply shed hurt Zacs feelings.
And after their talk earlier this morning, shed felt as if the two of them had 
grown a bit closer.
Maybe she could fix things.
Make them better, at least.
Im sorry, Zachary, she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. I truly am.
Of all the I-Bots, only Killaine called Zac by his full name. She hoped this 
displayed the proper amounts of both respect and affection.
Zac nodded his head as their silent guide rounded a corner ahead of them into 
another maze of alleyways. I detest prejudice of any kind, Killaine. I just 
wish to God that
His words were cut off as they rounded the corner and saw their guide standing 
stock-still, arms raised to the level of his waist.
A few feet in front of their guide stood a young man in a long, dark, leather 
duster coat, his shaved head glistening with either rain or perspiration.
His left hand hung at his side.
His right hand came up quickly.
Holding a gun.
Well, well, he said. Looks like Im gonna make my quota, after all.
Killaine began to make her move.
Zac grabbed her arm, stopping her.
No, he whispered.
Why?
Hes got an electron gun.
Killaine felt something in her center go suddenly cold.
With fear
 
An hour earlier, a little after eight A.M., Killaine had gotten out of bed, 
feeling quite refreshed from last nights PosiTrance Time, and decided to make 
breakfast for everyone.
Killaine was glad that Zac had decided to program them for PosiTrance Timethe 
equivalent of human sleepbecause it gave their neuro-programming an opportunity 
to more fully collate, absorb, and apply the myriad bits of information they 
accumulated. When to power-down into a PosiTrance state was a matter of personal 
choice for each of themthey were, after all, more machine than human, so 
sleep wasnt necessarybut Killaine chose to sleep at least three times a 
week.
It made her feel more like a human.
Zac took great care to program them with as many human characteristics as 
possible.
Killaine was always the first one to rise in the morning, earning the annoying 
cloying nickname of Sunshine from Itazuraa nickname that the other I-Bots, 
seeing how much it grated on her nerves, quickly took to.
She knew they meant no harm, that it was all only in good humor but, still, 
there were times she wanted to clap any or all of them upside the head.
Youve got to learn to rein in that temper of yours, Zac had told her on more 
than one occasion. If you dont, youre going to get us all in a lot of trouble 
someday.
So, well aware that someone was just dying to irritate her, Sunshine rose from 
her bed, donned her terry-cloth robe, and started downstairs to make a good 
old-fashioned Irish breakfast for her friends.
The ingrates.
She was approaching the end of the hall when she noticed that Zacs door was 
open.
Killaine knew right away that Zac hadnt slept well, if at all; his door being 
left open was a sure sign that hed been up during the night, wandering the 
warehouse that served as both their place of business and their home.
For now, anyway.
The warehouse that housed Invasion Prevention Systems resembled a kind of prison 
from outside. All the windows were covered with wire mesh. All the doors were 
slabs of reinforced steel. All the abandoned, stripped cars that squatted along 
the curb had smears of blood on the backseats.
Home Sweet, as the saying went.
The building was located in a section of the city called Cemetery Ridge by 
everyone except the people who lived there; the residents of this area probably 
didnt know that their street was unofficially named after one of the Civil Wars 
bloodiest battles, and even if they had known, odds were they wouldnt care. 
What they did know was that their neighborhood was the dividing line between one 
of the citys richest areasCinnamon Roadand one of its poorest. Depending on 
which side of the street you were standing on, you could either walk up the 
steps that entered the Taft Hotelfar and away the most expensive and exclusive 
of the citys hotelsor you could be dragged into an alley by any number of drug 
addicts, thieves, deviants, and murderers who preyed Shiloh Street. On several 
occasions, Killaine had watched as exquisitely dressed patrons of the Taftwith 
their jewels and furs and obscenely priced dinner jacketsstood along the large 
windows and stared at the shabby homeless people who roamed the other side of 
the street.
It always seemed to Killaine that the Taft people were smiling at the less 
fortunate ones only a few dozens yards away from them.
That made her angry.
Angry as hell.
It also made her feel both grateful and sad that she wasnt wholly humanbut she 
never wished to be wholly robotic.
Human beings with their petty squabbles, their greed and avarice, their 
duplicities and lusts and perversions and
stop it, she thought.
This was a burden all of the I-Bots had to contend with, each in their own time, 
in their own way.
Neither wholly human nor wholly mechanical.
Outsiders, wherever they went.
Outsiders, forever.
But sometimes, when she watched the privileged at the Taft laugh at the hopeless 
denizens on Cemetery Ridge, Killaine thought that maybe, just maybe, being 
forever an outsider wasnt so bad, after all.
She was pulled from her thoughts by a sound coming from the morning shadows 
behind Zacs door.
A soft, sad sound.
Wet, full of grief.
She stepped up to Zacs door and gently, silently, pushed it open.
Just a tad.
Zac was sitting in an old kitchen chair, looking out the side window of his 
room.
He was crying.
Very quietly.
Killaine felt something stir deep in her core, and she suddenly thought about a 
line that the Tin Man had said in The Wizard of Oz: I know Ive got a heart 
now, because I can feel it breaking.
He looked so alone and lonely.
And Killaine didnt quite know what to do.
Psy-4 had once told her: I always know what his mood will be by where I find 
his chair in the morning. Front is good. The sideisnt.
She never really understood that until now.
If he had been facing the front windowwhich looked out on the beautiful 
architecture of the glittering buildings of Cinnamon Roadthen Zac had been 
thinking about the future, about Possibilities, Newness.
Even Hope.
But if he was looking out the side windowdown onto the dirty, shabby, ruined 
Cemetery Ridgethen hed been lost in the past, in Loss, Regret, Sadness, 
andworst of allGuilt.
Zachary? she whispered.
Zac started, nearly jumping to his feet.
Im sorry, she said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her.
I didnt mean to scare you.
You didnt, he croaked hoarsely. Well, not too much, anyway.
He made no attempt to wipe his tear-streaked face.
After hesitating a moment, Killaine walked over, stood behind his chair, and 
softly placed her hands on his shoulders.
His muscles were rock-solid with tension.
How long have you been awake? she asked. 
Oh, II dont know. A while.
She gave a small, melancholy laugh. Perhaps Id best rephrase the question 
then: Have you been to sleep at all?
Yes. For a little while. He reached over to rub the back of his neck, but 
Killaine pushed his hand away and began to massage his shoulders.
What wakened you?
A dream.
Was it a very bad one?
Silence.
She felt his muscles tense under her fingers.
Then: Yes, it was. I dreamed about Grandpa, and Dadand Jean.
Jean, repeated Killaine.
Jean Severn, the only woman Zac Robillard had ever loved.
Jean Severn, whose parents, along with James Creed and Benjamin Robillard, Zacs 
grandfather, had helped to lay the foundations for the science of Fundamental 
Robotics that eventually led to the creation of the robotic brain and, 
ultimately, the I-Bots themselves.
Jean Severn, killed in Bolivia by the same fanatics who had also killed Zacs 
grandfather.
Jean Severn, who was resurrected by her killers when her brain was placed in the 
body of the Iron Man, a robot programmed for destruction by those who still held 
to the twisted principles of the Third Reich; Iron Man, a robot Zac had helped 
destroy. And with Iron Man, hed destroyed the last essence of the woman hed 
loved.
I killed her again, hed once said to Killaine. They killed her once; I killed 
her again.
But she asked you to, she always told him. She couldnt live that way.
And you think that makes it any easier to live with? Zac would reply.
Jean.
So much history in that name, spoken so softly, so sadly: Jean
What did you dream of her? asked Killaine.
Zac took a deep breath, held it, tensed slightly, then released the breath 
slowly. We were in Paris during some kind of festival. We were sitting at one 
of those little cafs where coffee is served at small wooden tables under 
colorful canopies. Somewhere nearby a band of street musicians began to play, 
and she asked me to dance with her. Its almost midnight, she said. Dance the 
new day in with me. He leaned forward, rubbed his eyes, and sighed.
Sit back, said Killaine, her tone of voice making it clear she would hear no 
argument.
Zac did as he was told, and Killaine resumed her massaging of his back.
So she asked that you dance the new day in with her Killaine prompted.
I kept telling her that I was a klutz, a lousy dancer, but she didnt care. She 
jumped up from the table and grabbed my hand and dragged my fat butt out into 
the street, and we dancedoh, how we danced! She was so graceful, so beautiful. 
I felt like Fred Astaire his first time with Ginger Rogers. The music kept 
growing louder, more joyful, you know? And the other people who had been 
dancing, they saw us and slowly began to move away, forming a circle around us, 
watching, applauding. Jean was soluminous under the streetlights.
Then it began to rain, but she wouldnt stop dancing, and the band wouldnt 
stop playing, and the people surrounding us began to sing, and I realized then 
how very much I loved her, how very much I admired her, how much she completed 
me, and I remember thinking, Please dont laugh, if you laugh, then Ill lose my 
heart forever; dont laugh or Im done for.
She laughed. It was the sound of bells, it was one of the most beautiful, 
purest things Id ever heard. And then I was laughing with her and not giving a 
damn about our getting soaked. I was just lostin her, in the music, in the 
singing, all of it. It was the most perfect moment of my life, dancing with the 
woman I loved under the glistening lights and the crystal rains at midnight in 
Paris.
Killaine rubbed the sides of his neck. What a wonderful memory to dream of. Why 
did it disturb you so?
Thats just it, said Zac, reaching back to stop her hands. It wasnt a 
memory. It never happened. I always wanted to do that with her, but we 
nevernever had the chance. And nowhis voice crackedwe never will. And I 
hate it. I hate thispulling up stakes every few months and running to another 
city before Annabelle can get to us, the constant worry, the tension, the 
uncertaintybut most of all, I hate waking up at three in the morning because I 
was dreaming about a memory of something that never happened. He turned and 
looked over his shoulder at Killaine. Does that make sense to you?
Indeed, it does, Zachary. She touched his face, her thumb gently brushing away 
a fresh tear just now sliding slowly down his cheek. From the little youve 
spoken of her, and from the little I actually know about her, I know that she 
must have been quite a remarkable person in order to capture your heart and bind 
its wings.
She was, whispered Zac. Remarkable. II didnt know her for very long, you 
know?
I know.
He stared out the window. Strange, isnt it? How you can spend years around 
some people and never feel close to them, and yet you meet another person who 
you know for only a few weeks andand
Tisnt at all strange, said Killaine.
How so?
She smiled at him. Sometimes you see the soul and just fall in love and cant 
do anything about it.
He stared at her.
For several long, silent moments.
It began to make her nervous.
What is it? she asked.
Just odd to hear you mention the soul. Thats something none of us have ever 
spoken about.
And for good reason.
What reason is that?
Itazura. You dont want to broach the subject with him.
Why?
Because he becomes a different being when he speaks of the soul andand youre 
deliberately changing the subject. Ill not have it, Zachary Robillard.
A slight grin. You wont, eh?
No.
He took both her hands in his. Do you know how lovely you are, Killaine?
Im aware that Ive a certain appeal, yes.
Do you know why that is?
She hesitated a moment. Im not sure I
Zac released her hands, then crossed to his dresser, opening a drawer.
He removed an old, small shoebox, then lifted its lid and rooted around the 
contents until he found a photograph.
Look at this, he said.
Killaine joined him and looked at the photo of Jean Severn.
She was one of the most beautiful women Killaine had ever seennot just 
outwardly, but from within, as well. Her inner beauty shone in her eyes, in the 
curve of her smile, in the sharpness of her cheek and
and why did she suddenly seem so familiar?
She was, said Zac, for me, the embodiment of what true beauty is: Times gift 
of perfect humility.
I know her, said Killaine. Iveand I dont mean to sound like Ive blown a 
fuse, Zachary, but Ive seen her. Recently.
He took the photo back. Or maybe someone who looks a bit like her?
Yes!
He put the photo back in the shoebox, replaced the lid, and returned his 
tattered treasure chest to its secret place. Thats because you see some of her 
face every time you look in a mirror. Or at Radiant.
Killaine was too stunned to speak.
Have you ever noticed, Killaine, how I sometimes have trouble looking directly 
at you and Radiant?
yes
Psy-4 is under the impression that he is the eldest I-Bot, but if the truth 
were to be toldand I expect this to be our little secrethes the second 
oldest.
Who is the oldest, then?
Laraine.
Who?
Zac returned to his chair and stared down at Cemetery Ridge, now made all the 
more dispirited by the incoming rain. Laraine was the first I-Bot I designed 
when I was at WorldTech. I was still grieving for Jean, and without realizing it 
I fashioned Laraines face after hers. When I realized what I had done, I 
redesigned Laraines face into yoursand Radiants. So I guess that, 
technically, youre the eldest. He looked at her and tried to smile, didnt 
quite make it. But dont tell Psy-4. Let him have his little delusion, all 
right?
Yes.
Thats why, sometimes, I cant look at you and Radiant. Both of you have some 
part of Jeans face, and itit hurts to see you. Youre both so beautiful, so 
much like Jean. So please dont be offended at those times when
He couldnt finish.
Tears again.
He turned toward the window.
Killaine stood behind him, ran a hand through his hair, then leaned down and 
kissed the top of his head. Youre a fine man, Zachary, the best Ive ever 
known. And I am honored more than I can say that youve chosen Radiant and me as 
vessels to keep some small part of your Jean alive.
Thank you, he choked. Now, if you dont mind, II need a few minutes.
Not too long. Ive decided to make your favorite for breakfast.
Potato pancakes?
With real butter and maple syrup.
Ill be there soon. With bells on.
Killaine laughed. That Id like to see. She nearly laughed again, then 
wondered if her laugh sounded anything like Jeans had. And decided not to think 
about it.
Not too long now, she said from the doorway.
I promise, said Zac. Then: Killaine?
Yes?
Thank you.
No, Zacharythank you.
Even though she stood several feet away from him, Killaine had never felt so 
close to Zac as she did at this moment.
She watched as he shook his head at some unvoiced thought, then looked a little 
to the right, through the window and down into the street at something unseen. 
Rain spattered against the wire mesh covering the window, forming dreary blurred 
slashes, and for a moment it looked to Killaine as if Zac were sitting on the 
other side of the window, outside looking in, his head lowered, hands clasped in 
front of him as if in prayer, getting soaked to the marrow and listening as the 
staccato rhythm of the downpour against the brick building underscored the 
constricting loneliness and anxiety of his life. He lifted a slightly trembling 
hand to massage his temple and in that moment, because of that simple, silent 
gesture, Killaine saw Zacs life the way he must have seen it himself: the 
silent evenings where the only thing he could depend on in the night were 
upsetting dreams and, upon waking (if he slept at all), an old, tattered box of 
even older memories. She knew how he must view this room of his, so small and 
dark: a shabby little room for a shabby little life. She wondered if any of his 
clothes still held the scent of Jeans perfume. Did he sometimes in the night 
touch them to remind himself that shed been real? Did he ever find something of 
hers, a scarf, a kerchief, that held her scent, and did he sometimes in the 
night, when he was so alone and certain of his privacy, hold that scarf or 
kerchief to his face and breathe in the sweet, dying aroma left there by a 
sweet, dead, extraordinary woman who came to him now only in dreams?
I know Ive got a heart now, said the Tin Man.
She quietly closed the door and started downstairs.
The kitchen was quiet and dark. She turned on the bright overhead lights and 
immediately felt her spirits rise.
Coffee.
First thing, there must be her legendary Irish Creme coffeean intoxicating 
aroma that almost no one in the building could resistand then shed begin 
preparing the food; not that any of them needed to eat, eating was a function of 
choice, like sleeping, but they all enjoyed the taste of food, the physical act 
of eating helped make them seem more human, plus the carbohydrates, fats, and 
sugars were broken down into a liquid that served various functions, such as 
taking the place of corneal fluid, saliva, and sweat.
She was just getting ready to pour the water into the machine when a panicked 
voice behind her hissed, No, dont!
She spun around to see Itazura, wide-eyed and nervous, come at her with an 
electronic detecting scanner in his hand.
Itzy? What on earth are you
Stand back! he hissed at her, his voice now taking on an uncharacteristic edge 
of panic.
Killaine did as he instructed.
Itazura approached the counter on which sat the coffeemaker.
He activated the scanner and began sweeping the entire area.
What is it? asked Killaine.
Just a feeling, he replied, moving the scanner from side to side, up, then 
down.
He finally zeroed in on the coffeemaker.
Killaine didnt move.
Damn, had Annabelle found them so quickly this time? Had she already had her 
team in here to bug or booby-trap the place?
NoPreston.
That had to be it.
Preston must have had his goon squad in here last night while they were over at 
PTSI. That made sense; playing dirty was the only way a man like Sam Preston 
could ever get the upper hand on someone like Zac Robillard.
Itazura held out one hand in a gesture of warning.
He scanned the coffeemaker.
Lifted it gently.
Scanned the underside.
Set it back down.
Scanned the entire appliance once more.
Then stood back and deactivated the scanner. Okay, Killaine, its cleanjust 
dont make any coffee this morning, okay?
Why?
Itazura stared at her, unblinking. Because I dont like your coffee. Ha!
He jumped into the air, executing a flawless double back-flip to the other side 
of the counter before Killaine could get her hands on him.
Oh, Itzy, said Killaine, her voice full of playful menace. Havent you heard, 
boy, that its not wise to rile an Irishwomans temper before shes had her 
morning coffee?
Gimme a break, KillaineI got you a good one and you cant stand it.
Killaine came around the counter and nearly had him, but he faked right and went 
left, hurling himself back over to the other side, and all she managed to grab 
was empty air.
Ill get you for this, Itzy.
Oooooo, promise?
Promise.
Will you discipline me then, you haughty Amazon temptress?
She stopped her pursuit of him, waited a moment, then relaxed. I just realized 
something.
Ill alert the media.
You have an awfully good time with yourself, dont you?
This time, Itazura stopped moving.
The look of confusion on his face was priceless.
Whats that supposed to mean?
Just what I said.
What you said made no sense.
Killaine shrugged. It neednt make sense to you, only to me. She loved baiting 
him this way.
Huh?
Killaine laughed at him, then set about preparing the coffee. Did you just get 
up?
Another moment of confusion on Itazuras face, thenrealizing he wasnt up to a 
verbal tug-of-war with her this morninghe shook it off. Ive been up since 
six.
Doing what, working out this mornings little vaudeville?
No. Ive been down in the cellar, walking my labyrinth.
Ah, your latest earth-maze. How was it?
I didnt get very far into it, only past the Wheels of Confusion.
Killaine looked at him, genuinely interested. Is it a complex earth-maze this 
time?
Verybut thats not why I didnt get far.
Before Killaine could ask why, she heard the distinctive whir-clunk-chink! 
coming up from the cellar. Oh, no.
Oh, yeah, replied Itazura. Then, with a sly and slightly mocking grin: Your 
favorite neighbor made his way through the sewers and has come a-calling.
And thats when the robot emerged onto the first floor.
Bloody Scrapper, thought Killaine, wondering what disaster had befallen the 
denizens of the camp where the old, outmoded, unwanted robots lived.
The visiting robot paused for a moment, its bright red eyes scanning its 
surroundings, then walked into the kitchen, nodding to Itazura and waving to 
Killaine.
Hello, Singer, she said, none too enthusiastically.
The robot lifted both its gold-metal hands and began making a series of quick 
gestures.
Killaine, said Itazura. Singers talking to you.
She sighed, irritated, then turned toward the Scrapper.
Singer pointed to the index finger of his left hand, then crossed the index and 
middle finger of his right hand, bringing them to the area of his face where a 
mouth should be.
Youare said Itazura, interpreting the robots sign language.
I can read, snapped Killaine.
Singer pulled his right hand away, its fingers uncrossed, pressed his thumb in 
toward his palm, then moved his entire hand in a quick, single, counterclockwise 
circle; after that, he made the old Peace sign with the fingers of both hands, 
brought the tips of the fingers together in front of his chest, then raised his 
right hand to his mouth as if pantomiming eating something, quickly pulled it 
away, opened his right hand wide, then brought it back to the original eating 
position.
Holding both open hands at his waist, palms facing upward, Singer pointed toward 
the ceiling with his right index finger, then at his elbow joint with his left 
index finger.
This took perhaps four seconds.
You are looking very lovely today, he had told Killaine.
Killaine, without making eye contact, muttered, Thank you, Singer.
Pointing, crossed fingers to mouth, then a downward sweep with fully open hand: 
You are welcome.
Killaine looked at Itazura. Let me guesstrouble at the Scrapper camp?
Yeah. Seems a group of SMS punks took them by surprise earlier this morning and 
did some major damage to an old IA-2112 model.
Wonderful. Killaine poured the coffee water into the sink and turned off the 
breakfast appliances.
Ill go get El Jefe.
No, snapped Killaine, casting a distasteful glance at Singer. Let me. Hes in 
a bit of a state this morning.
Youve already seen him?
Briefly. He didnt sleep well.
Itazura shook his head. Damn. I wish there was something we could do for him at 
times like this.
Dont play softhearted with me, prankster, said Killaine as she walked past.
Itazura took her arm, stopping her.
Do you really think I dont feel for the man? he asked.
Sometimes I wonder.
She saw the hurt and resentment in his eyes.
He released her arm. Thanks for the vote of confidence.
Itzy, look, I didnt mean
you always mean what you say, Sis, so just drop it, all right? Now Id advise 
you to get out of here before youre infected by Scrapper cooties or something. 
Hurry! Hurry!
He actually pushed her out of the kitchen.
As she headed up the stairs, Killaine heard the subtle scrape-clink-squeak of 
Singer signing something.
I dont know why she doesnt like you, Singer, said Itazura, the anger and 
hurt still very evident in his voice. Its not like were all that different 
from you.
Indeed, it isnt, thought Killaine, and wondered if that might not be part of 
her problem.
Zac was coming out of his room, clean faced and clear eyed, as she hit the top 
of the stairs.
What is it? he asked.
Singer.
So much information, so much emotion, so much history could be summed up in 
speaking a simple name. 
Benjamin.
Jean.
Singer.
Ill get my gear, said Zac.
 
The kid with the electron gun moved closer to Singer, smiling, displaying his 
crooked, nicotine-stained teeth. Im gonna make it fast, Scrapper. He studied 
Singer for a moment. YeahI think your faceplate will do all right. Thats 
proof enough.
Killaine and Zac were pressed against the back of one of the buildings, hidden 
enough by the shadows, mist, and rain that the kid didnt see them; he was too 
focused on tormenting Singer.
Initiation, whispered Zac.
Whats he supposed to?
Kill a robot point-blank dead-bang against the cranium, then bring back some 
section of its body.
Lovely, said Killaine, wanting nothing more than to get her hands on the kid, 
who, she now saw, already had the SMS scar carved into his forehead. It must 
have been done recently; the wound was still seeping slightly.
The Silver Metal Stompers were a group of militant antirobotic fanatics who 
broke away from the waning American Nazi Party around 2007not that theyd 
abandoned many of the Third Reichs sensibilities; the SMS, like the Nazis, 
started as a fringe movement but quickly gained members and credence as the 
publics ever-increasing demand for newer, smarter, stronger, user-friendly 
robots became more intense. Those private citizens who owned robot domestics 
bought newer, shinier, streamlined models and, unable to sell their older-model 
robots, either threw them awayturning them out into the streetor dumped them 
at a government recycling facility where the robots were stripped of their 
circuitry, drained of their programming, and torn down to be melted to make 
parts for new models.
Still, there was the problem of those robots that had simply been dumped, so in 
order to stanch the flux of obsolescent robots into the streets of the country, 
the local governments of every major city were allotted monies to form 
Recycling Squads, groups of glorified trash collectors who made weekly sweeps 
through the city to gather up any wandering robots and deliver them to the 
recycling facilities.
Most local governments chose not to come down too hard on the SMS; after all, 
the kids often did for free what the governments had to pay good money for.
Now most cities were filled with hundreds, possibly thousands, of 
Scrappersold, outmoded, unwanted robots without owners, without significant 
scientific value, without purpose.
The Scrapper camps were born out of the old robots programmed desire to protect 
themselves. Banding together throughout the cities of the world, the Scrappers 
were constantly on the move, always looking over their shoulders for either the 
Recycling Squad or the Silver Metal Stompers.
In short: victims waiting to happen.
And so the SMS descended on them, tracking down the transient Scrapper camps and 
leaving wreckage in their wake.
The worst part of it all were rumors of SMS supporters holding high office in 
local law enforcement agencies.
There was nowhere in this country now where a Scrapper was safe.
Nowhere they could hide for long.
And no one they could turn to for help.
No one except Zac Robillard.
Or DocScrap, as he was called among the camps.
Anytime, any day, anywhere in the city where a Scrapper needed help, needed 
repairs, Zac would come to their aidno ifs or whens or maybes about it.
If they needed him, hed get to them.
Somehow.
All of this flashed through Killaines mind in less than a millisecond as she 
watched the SMS-initiate walk over to Singer and press the business end of the 
electron gun against the robots head.
Killaine tensed.
One burst of the guns electrons at Singers craniumthe shot had to be 
point-blank in order to be immediately effectiveand the robotic brain paths 
would be neutralized; enough energy would be released to fuse the robot-brain 
into an inert ingot.
We have to do something, said Zac.
Hes too close to Singer, whispered Killaine. We dont dare chance surprising 
him or
Zac coughed.
Several times.
Very loudly.
The kid jerked his head in the direction of the sound but kept the electron gun 
firmly pressed against Singers cranium. Whos there?
Howhow dry I am, sang Zac in a rusty, ersatz-drunken voice. How dry II 
amoooooooo, nobody knowshow dry I am
He dropped the duffel bag into the shadows and now was staggering out into the 
alley, heading straight for the kid and Singer.
Stay right there, asshole, snarled the kid, reaching into the other pocket of 
his duster and pulling out a silver-plated .577 Magnum Auto-Mag.
He pointed the gun directly at Zac.
Every particle of Killaines being was readying for battle.
If this kid so much as scratched Zac Robillard
thats when Zac giggled insanely, drunkenly, staggered a few more inches, then 
fell to one knee, clutching his stomach. Whoooo-doggy! he exclaimed. I think 
I had me a bit too much rotgut, know whatwhat I mean?
The kid shook his head in disgust, kicked out at Zacs head and missed, then 
settled for laughing at him.
Maybe Ill bring your face back, too, he said. We get extra points if we can 
take out a human and a Scrapper at the same time. Shows we got what it takes to 
beat the mechanical man.
Ooooooooh, my, spluttered Zac, falling facedown into the mud.
The kid laughed, pocketing the Magnum.
Killaine began to move from the shadows.
And Zac came up off the ground so fast no one was ready for it.
He held a jagged section of 2x4 in his hand, which he threw like a boomerang 
straight at the kid.
The kid protected himself not with his right arm but with his left, pulling the 
electron gun away from Singers cranium. Zacs 2x4 connected solidly with the 
kids arm and he dropped the gun, lost his balance, and started going down on 
one knee as he pulled the Magnum from his other pocket.
Killaine was lightning.
Out of the shadows, leaping over Zac and shoving Singer out of the way in the 
same movement, then spinning around and bringing up her left leg, connecting 
solidly with the kids chest and sending him flying back into a row of 
overflowing garbage cans.
The Magnum discharged but didnt hit anything.
Cats screeched as the kid hit the trash.
A dog snarled.
Several plump, hairy rats, their slumber and feasting disturbed, scattered in 
all directions.
Killaine grabbed both weapons and handed them to Zac, then stormed over to the 
steamy pile of garbage where the kid lay and yanked him up by the collar of his 
duster.
He was stunned and groggy, but still conscious.
Nap time for baby, she whispered.
She slammed him against the back of the buildingnot hard enough to leave any 
permanent damage, but enough that his head got a solid whack of brick and mortar 
and put him out for a while.
Probably a good while.
Killaine stared down at the kids splayed form.
Yesdefinitely four, maybe even six, hours.
She dusted off her hands and turned back toward Zac and Singer. This is 
actually a very nice coat hes wearing. Zachary. Would you like it?
Not particularly, but you might want to empty his pockets of any more weapons.
She did so. A deadly switchblade, two pairs of brass knuckles, a second electron 
gun, three extra clips for the Magnum, and something that looked like an 
old-fashioned cherry bomb.
Its a Russian-manufactured device from about twenty years ago, Zac told her. 
A small grenade. Wouldnt know it to look at it, but this little thing is 
equivalent to about fifteen sticks of TNT. You activate it by pressing this 
little button on the sidesee? Then youve got about seven seconds. Nasty piece 
of military paraphernalia, this. He shook his head as he wiped the mud from his 
face and hands. His clothes were ruined.
Ah, brave new world, he said. Then: Thanks, Killaine.
Singer echoed Zacs sentiments.
You surprised me, Zachary. That was a stunt Itazura would have been proud of.
Maybe, but I dont have his speed.
Or aim, said Singers hands.
Stuff you, snapped Killaine at the robot. Zachary hit him squarely on the 
arm.
I was aiming for his head.
Oh.
Zac retrieved his duffel bag as Singer signaled them to hurry.
They continued on.
22
Robert Arthur Pendleton III, Chairman of the Board of Directors of WorldTech, 
was in a hurry.
His mistress had called him a few minutes ago from the apartment he kept for 
their rendezvous in the Taft Hotel.
She was very much in the mood for him.
And he was very much in the mood for her.
Hed called his wife and canceled their luncheon engagement, told his secretary 
hed be out for the rest of the day, and taken his private elevator down to the 
lobby.
He was nearly out the doors when a busty, luscious-looking blonde came jiggling 
up to him with a clipboard in her hands.
Mr. Pendleton?
He checked his watch. Yes, what is it, dear? Im in a hurry.
She giggled. That giggle told him everything he needed to know about her IQ.
But look at the package, he thought to himself.
Yum-yum.
Ive got some forms that Mr. Marsh needs for you to sign. She offered the 
clipboard to him, along with a ballpoint, and as Pendleton took them he couldnt 
help but notice how her hands brushed against his own, then lingered for a few 
moments more than were needed.
He looked at her azure eyes.
And felt his temperature rise slightly as she moistened her lips with the tip of 
her tongue.
No doubt about it, something was passing between them.
Something delicious.
Usually Pendleton would have read over the three short formsat the very least, 
glanced at thembut today hormones overrode business savvy and he signed without 
examining any of them. They most likely were Marshs invoices for the monies 
spent on Anton Tylers covert operations at Annabelles office.
Ever the accountant, eh, Marsh? Thought Pendleton as he handed the clipboard 
back to the blonde.
I dont think Ive seen you around here before, he said to her, nothing how, 
even though she clasped one end of the ballpoint, she had yet to remove it from 
his fist.
No, sir, she said in a breathy, smoky voice that Pendleton could almost feel 
with his fingertips. I just started a few days ago. Im sort of the Accounting 
Divisions gofer.
Seems a pity.
She stepped closer to him, part of her wondrous bosom pressing against him. I 
think so, too.
Her thumb stroked his.
Well, he said, visions of her undressed undulating through his mind, perhaps 
we can discuss your future over dinner some night.
She moistened her lips again. Mmmm. Id like that.
Hows tonight? The hormones again. They got him every time.
Tonight is perfect.
Im sure youve got several valuable talents that have yet to be tapped.
Uh-huh.
Shall I pick you up or
Oh, no, sir. I wouldnt want anyone to get the wrong ideaeven if its the 
right idea. A smile, then, girlish, filled with promise.
A smile to make Pendleton Think Things.
Ill be finished at six tonight, she said.
Ill reserve a table for us at the Clarion.
A wink. Ill meet you.
She started walking away.
Slowly.
Pendleton was appreciative of the view.
Suddenly, a thought came to him, and he caught up with her in three long strides 
and made a show, for any inquiring eyes, of returning the ballpoint to her. Im 
afraid I neglected to ask your name, dear.
Tawny, she said, slinking away.
Tawny, he thought.
Oh, my.
The idea of Yum-Yum twice in the same day made his middle-aged heart increase 
its beating.
What a day; a tryst with Kimberly, and dinnerprobably much more than thatwith 
Tawny.
And from all that Marsh had promised, hed have Annabelle Donohoe right where he 
wanted her by days end.
Life was good.
He headed out the doors, then took the Executives Only elevator up to the 
private parking garage.
He did not see Tawny cross the street outside and hand the forms to a large, 
well-dressed man wearing a bowler, nor did he see the man hand Tawny a rather 
thick envelope.
No; the hormones were raging in full force, and he couldnt wait to get to his 
mistress.
He found his car, deactivated the alarm, and climbed inside.
Oh, the things he and Kimberly were going to do today.
Shed remember this morning for a long, long time.
He put his key in the ignition and turned it.
The electronic doors suddenly locked.
The CVD player in the dashboard suddenly came on.
What the?
Hello, Robert, said Annabelles voice from the speakers. I guess youll never 
learn. But thanks for signing over fifty-one percent of your stock to me. Dont 
worry about the wife and kids, theyll be well-provided forIm not a complete 
bitch.
Pendleton tried unlocking the doors but the controls wouldnt respond.
He tried rolling down the windows.
Nothing.
Just wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for your years of loyal 
service to my company, said Anabelles voice. Mark those words, Robertmy 
company.
Pendleton was sweating now, nearing panic.
He pulled back and slammed an elbow against the drivers side window.
Nothing.
Not even a crack.
Youll be missed, Robert. Say Happy Trails!
And thats when his car exploded.
Where there had once been silence, there was now rumbling, merciless thunder.
Where there had once sat metal and rubber and safety glass, there was now 
rolling yellow flames and curling, crawling gray smoke.
Pendleton had one second in which to scream, and he did, but there was no one 
there to hear him.
Glass shattered.
The gas tank added a second explosion moments later.
Flaming metal blew upward, slammed against the parking garage roof, then 
clattered down to the concrete below.
The cars parked on either side of Pendletons exploded a few seconds later.
Then the cars parked next to them.
And the ones beside those.
Hormones will get you every time.
 
From the safety of the street below, Simmons watched as the clouds of fire, 
metal, smoke, and glass blew outward from the fifteenth-floor executive garage.
Around him, people ran in all directions, panicked and screaming, trying to 
avoid the falling debris.
Sirens approached from the distance as several security officers, weapons 
unholstered, stumbled around as if they had some idea of what to do.
Simmons looked at the forms Tawny had given him, smiled a tight British grin, 
then folded everything neatly and slipped it into one of Annabelles personal 
envelopesthe lovely ones with the exquisite calligraphy embossed on their 
surfaces.
Something that appeared to be a twisted, flaming fender landed with a deafening 
clatter a few yards in front of him.
My goodness, he said to a nearby security officer. It seems youre going to 
have your hands full for a while.
Not waiting for a response, he courteously tipped his bowler, then, whistling 
God Save the King, went about his business.
23
The Scrapper Camp was a slaughterhouse.
At times like thisand there had been far too many times like this for her 
likingKillaine was glad that robots didnt have blood coursing through their 
complex systems; if that had been the case, she would be standing ankle-deep in 
gore.
Arms here, legs there, scorched torsos every which way-it looked like some 
juvenile comic book artists depiction of a street fight.
Singer led them over to one of the robots and signed: This is Falkirk, our 
leader. Please tend to him first.
Falkirk, a very rare IA-2112 model, was enormous. Even though he sat propped 
against a wall with legs splayed in front of him, his head was a good six feet 
from the ground.
I havent seen the likes of him in years, said Zac, opening up his duffel bag 
and removing his myriad tools.
What was it designed for? asked Killaine.
Zac shot her an irritated glance. He was designed for mining selenium on 
Mercury. Thousands of his model were produced, but the majority of them wound up 
doing most of their mining on Earth.
He looked at Falkirks eyes.
Their bright red glow was fading fast.
Zac worked the chestplate away to reveal the layers of old McGuffy gears within.
Oh, no, he whispered.
What is it?
Zac ignored Killaines question, directing his attention to Singer. When was 
the last time any of you saw a Public Maintenance Technician?
Singers hands: PMTs dont like coming to this section of the city.
That stinks, Singer. On ice. He pulled a portable halogen lantern from the 
bag, activated the light, and instructed Killaine to hold it over Falkirks 
chest.
Damn politicos, snarled Zac. Their constituents dump the robots into the 
street, then, to ease their consciences, politicians allot a few measly million 
dollars for PMT crews to check up on the Scrappers, and everybodys supposed to 
be happy. Except that the bastards dont bother with the quarterly maintenance 
sweeps unless someone with money needs a specific model from a certain yearthen 
theyre more than happy to carry out their duties. He reached up and moved 
Killaines arm a little to the left so the light would land where he wanted it.
Falkirk shuddered.
Oh, no choked Zac.
What? asked Singer.
Zac rubbed his eyes, exhaled a breath that was both sad and furious, then asked: 
He was hit with an electron shot, wasnt he?
Yes, but the blast was weak and only got him in the chest, not the head, and
Theres no and to it, Singer. Look. He pointed to the tiny two-inch sphere of 
atomic energy that was this robots life. The sphere itself was intact, but all 
of the gear and wiring surrounding it was blackened, charred, and sputtering.
That sphere is a nuclear power plant designed specifically for this particular 
modelone with an exceptionally high power output, able to function for decades 
without recharging or maintenance. It serves a similar function, theoretically, 
as a human heart. Its one of the reasons that this particular model hasnt been 
produced in years. That sphere will vaporize a city block if its overloaded or 
deformed. Of course, the engineers put in every fail-safe they could think of to 
prevent such a thing from happening. When the blast penetrated Falkirks chest 
cavity, the sphere remained unharmed, but everything powered by the sphere 
absorbed the damage.
What are you saying?
The gun used to shoot him wasnt fully charged. If it had been, none of you 
would have survived the spheres explosionhell, most of the block would be gone 
right now. The remnants of the electron charge are snaking through Falkirks 
system now, moving toward his brain, little by little. Hes suffering the human 
equivalent of a massive stroke. Theres nothing I can do to save him.
Singer stared down at his fallen leader.
After a long, agonized silence, Killaine whispered: Is he suffering, Zachary?
If you mean is he in pain, then the answer is nonot like you or I would feel 
pain. If you mean is he aware that something is terribly, horribly wrong, that 
his entire body is betraying him, that hes dying slowly, then, yes. Hes 
suffering.
Zac looked at Killaine.
Then Singer.
Then the other Scrappers who were assembling nearby.
I need those two crates over there, he said.
Singer and Killaine retrieved the crates, thenper Zacs instructionsstacked 
them one on top of the other.
Zac took something from Killaine, then climbed up to stand face-to-face with 
Falkirk.
For a moment, the dying robots eyes glowed bright red, as if communicating a 
last message.
Zac took a deep breath.
Sometimes I wish it were still yesterday, he whispered. Summer camp. The Moon 
shot. Playhouse 90. American Pie. One enormous yesterday with everything 
crammed into it like Fibber McGees closet. Id open the door and let everything 
cover me.
He looked into Falkirks eyes. Rest now, good fellow.
The robot gave a weak nod of its head.
Zac shot him square in the head with the electron gun.
The robot shuddered one last time, its legs kicking out in a death spasm and 
knocking the crates out from under Zac, who tumbled to the ground with a loud 
thud!
Killaine helped him to his feet, thinking, Oh, Zachary.
Swallowing back his anger and grief, Zac wiped his eyes and said, in a voice 
eerily devoid of emotion, We have to take him apart and salvage what parts we 
can.
This was done quickly, with little conversation.
Then, one by one, the damaged Scrappers came forward, carrying with them their 
dismembered arms, chestplates, faceplates. Some had to crawl for help, their 
legs having been ripped or shotgun-blasted from their bodies.
And there, in the alley, under a tarpaulin placed atop wooden boards to form a 
tent to keep away some of the rain, DocScrap repaired as many of the robots as 
he could.
Many of them walked away with some small part of their fallen leader within 
them.
Maybe its a way for him to live on, Zac said three and a half hours later, as 
they were making their way back toward the large cement drain that led into the 
sewers.
You had no choice, said Killaine. He was suffering.
So its he now, is it?
Zachary, please
Dont tell it to me. He pointed toward Singer. Tell him.
Youll not even let me apologize?
What good will your apologizing do, Killaine? The moving pen writes, and 
having writ, and so on.
But I am sorry, Zachary. And I wantI want to change. Tisnt right, the way I 
treat Singer, the way I look down at the Scrappers. I know this. Its just that 
theres somethingsomething hateful in me that I cannot defineand if I cant 
define it, then how can I defeat it?
You can defeat anything, KillaineI made sure of that when I designed you. Each 
one of you has nearly one hundred thousand terabytes of memory in your headsthe 
ability to store enough knowledge to fill over a quarter million human brains. 
But its not just the ability to store that knowledge that makes you so special, 
but how you can apply that knowledge. Within or without, theres no challenge 
you cant meet. You just have to want to bad enough.
Now youre sounding like Itazura.
Zac almost grinned.
Almost.
I suppose, of all of you, Itzys the one whos got the most of me in him. Not 
the Me-Now, or even the Me-Then, but the Me-I-Wish-Id-Been. Strong, witty, 
playful, formidableand questioning.
But you are all those things and more.
And youre just trying to earn some extra brownie points.
No, I mean it, Zachary. You denigrate yourself far too much and far too often.
Everybody needs a hobby.
Killaine was getting irritated. You really do think of yourself as something of 
a failure, dont you?
Shouldnt I be lying on a couch or something when you ask those kinds of 
questions?
Would it help me to get an actual answer?
Fine. What if I do feel that Ive failed in many areas of my life? Who doesnt 
feel that way from time to time? Or dont you ever listen to Itazura when he 
goes off on one of his tangents, questioning the point of everyone and 
everything?
In his own way, I do think Itzys the most spiritual of us.
Spiritual. Nice way to put it. If you believe in the soul.
Dont you?
Not so much anymore, because that would involve believing in a god who 
instilled you with one. He glanced back over his shoulder in the direction of 
the Scrapper camp.
Do you not believe in God, Zachary? asked Killaine.
Depends on what day of the week you ask that question. Yesterday, sure. Today 
He shrugged. Today, not so much. I used to, in the traditional sense. Said my 
prayers at night when I was a child, went to church on Sundays, the whole nine 
yards. Then I grew up into a scientist, and decided that God was a psychological 
transcendent symbol expressing unconscious forces.
And now?
Zac cast one last glance back toward the Scrapper camp. Now I think its quite 
possible that God is a sadistand doesnt even know it.
24
Soyoure actually answering your phone this morning. Annabelles voice was 
drier than the Sahara.
Hello, Annabelle.
Imagine my surprise, when the corporate helicopter came back last night and you 
werent on it.
I had the chopper dump me just outside the city.
Why?
I have a doctor here that I trust. Janus moved a littlehis abused muscles 
registered a strong protest.
But I told you that I would have a medical team standing
I decided I didnt want to owe you any favors.
Funny you should mention owing, Janus. Do you know what Im holding in my 
hands?
Someones balls that youre having for breakfast?
My, you are in a mood this morning, arent you?
I took two bullets and needed seventeen stitches in my hand. Im a little 
groggy from the happy pills the doctor gave me.
Poor boy.
Im touched by your sympathy. Janus wondered how much longer he should put up 
with thisbut was still curious enough about where it was leading to let it go 
on. Besides, he had a few issues of his own to put on the table.
My hands? Annabelle asked.
What?
We were discussing what Im holding in my hands.
You know, Annabelle, Im sure this penchant you have for drawing out 
nonexistent suspense probably leaves most of your underlings peeing in their 
pants. I find it simply irritating.
Fine. Wheres the third disk, Janus?
With me. Janus smiled.
That isnt a lot of help to me, now, is it?
About as useful as an envelope with only seventy percent of my fee is to me.
Ah.
Silence.
You never used to be this heavy-handed, Annabelle, Janus said. I never much 
liked you but I could always trust you to be straight with me when we did 
business together.
You sound as if Ive hurt your widdle feelings.
Youve insulted my integrity, Annabelle. If we are going to continue to do 
business together, I have a right to know why.
What makes you think I want us to do more business together?
Because thats why you didnt send all the money with the chopper pilot. You 
knew Id come over there to your little fortress to ask why, and then youd 
offer me another assignmentone that Im guessing is too delicate or personal 
for you to describe through the usual channels.
And a smart lad, to boot.
Watch your tone, Annabelle.
What if I were to tell you that Ive six of my best operatives ready to take 
you down any second?
Id tell you to go for it.
Really?
Why do you think I chose to live out here in the boonies, as you call it?
Do tell.
Because I knew that someday Id end up doing business with someone just crazy 
enough to try and have me taken out on my home turf. Go ahead, Annabelle, send 
in your goon squad. One button. I press one button and this cabin and everything 
else within a six-mile radius goes up with a bang.
Including you?
Including me. This freak show called life long ago lost most of its appeal for 
me. Its no skin off my nose if I buy it right now or in ten years. So go on, 
Annie
dont call me that, you
give your boys the word. The way I feel this morning, youll be doing me a 
favor.
Silence.
Would it do any good if I apologized to you, Janus?
Not really.
We shouldnt treat one another like this.
Keep going.
I shouldnt have tried something as amateurish as I did with the money.
Go on.
What? Ive apologized.
No, you havent. An apology usually includes two very important words.
Silence.
Well?
Fuck you.
Janus laughed loudly. Theres my Annabelle. Ill be catching a flight at 
one-thirty this afternoon. Ill be at your office with the disk around four.
Ill have the rest of your money.
Fine, he said.
Friends again?
We were never friends, Annabelle. But Ill consider your next assignment.
Good.
Annabelle?
Yes?
You ever try anything like this again, and Ill kill you and as many people 
around you as I can.
Well, at least the chopper pilot will be glad to know it wasnt personal.
Im sorry about his nose and shoulder.
And left eye.
Ooops. Clumsy me.
Now, Janus
Click.
25
In the cellar of the warehouse, Psy-4 watched in silence as Itazura walked his 
labyrinth.
The only light in the cellar came from a bare bulb that hung from the ceiling. 
Its too-bright glow cast deformed shadows on the cinder-block walls and made the 
already cramped space seem all the more claustrophobic. Psy-4 could never 
understand why Itazura had chosen to build his earth-maze down here instead of 
on the roof where Zac and Killaine kept a lovely garden.
But judging from the impatient manner in which Itazura stomped through the maze, 
Psy-4 wasnt about to broach that subject this morning.
Whats wrong? he finally asked.
Nothing, snapped Itazura.
Psy-4 sighed. Look, I realize I dont possess Radiants sensitivity to body 
temperature and blood pressure, but it doesnt take an Einsteinian leap of the 
imagination to figure out that youre not being truthful with me.
So youre calling me a liar?
Lets just say I get the feeling youre not telling me everything and leave it 
at that.
Itazura stopped midway through the maze, stomped his foot like a petulant child, 
then made his way back out before starting over.
In a far corner of the cellar, just out of the range of the circle of light, 
Stonewall stood very still, very silent, watching.
Itazuras earth-mazeor labyrinth, as he insisted on calling itwas a long, 
uninterrupted path painstakingly drawn into the soil in the shape of an ancient 
magic hierogram, modeled after that found in the Egyptian temple of Amenemhet 
III. The exerciseor meditationthat Itazura performed twice every day seemed, 
on the surface, simple enough: He began on the outskirts of the maze, slowly 
winding his way inward (toward death, symbolically), then, once reaching the 
center, knelt for a few minutes (a gesture of transmigration from one plane of 
existence to the next) before rising to his feet, turning three times, and 
following the path back to the outside of the maze (toward life, rebirth), 
exiting at a spot parallel to where hed begun. The points of entrance and exit 
were marked by three small spirals drawn into the soil.
Usually it soothed him, but Psy-4 could tell it wasnt working this morning.
I really think you ought to talk about whats bothering you before trying this 
again, he said.
I really think you ought to mind your own freakin business.
Itzy, said Stonewall from the shadows.
It was a warning.
Itazura turned away from the labyrinth. All right! I guess Im just angry about 
what happened with Killaine and Singer this morning.
Tell me about it, said Psy-4.
Itazura recounted the entire incident, from Singers complimenting Killaine, to 
Killaines obvious disgust at the Scrappers presence, to Singers at last 
asking Itazura why Killaine didnt like him.
Its almost as if she thinks that because Singers a Scrapper he doesnt have 
any feelings, you know?
Killaine prefers to think of herself in terms of human as much as possible, 
said Psy-4. She was programmed that way. We all were.
So what? said Itazura. We can delude ourselves all we want, Psy-4, it doesnt 
change the fact that we arent human. Oh, sure, we have all the outward 
appearances of humans, we perform many of the same functionseat, sleep, go to 
the can, enjoy music, movies, cha-cha-chabut were still outsidersno, scratch 
that. At least an outsider can blend in with the passing throngs
we can blend in
let me finish? An outsider can blend in not only physically, but emotionally 
and psychically, as well. Even the homeless people that we pass every day have 
an advantage over usthey at least know theyre part of humanity, even if that 
humanity prefers not to see them. The Have-Nots are invisible to the Haves, but 
at least they know that the world exists for them. Dont you get it? All we have 
is each other, Psy-4, and thats all well ever have. The world outside these 
walls isnt really there for us. Were not just outsiders, were ghosts.
You are in a state, arent you?
Dont you dare! Dont you dare sit there with that quietly amused smile on your 
face and shake your head at me like Im some slow-witted third-grader trying to 
grasp the intricacies of short division.
Im not smiling.
Maybe not, but you want to. I can hear it in your voice.
Some would call that paranoid, said Stonewall.
Itazura turned toward the shadows. Whoa, dig thatGarbo talks.
Youre not just angry about what happened this morning, continued Stonewall. 
Youre angry because what happened has reminded you of things youd rather not 
think about.
Shouldnt I be lying on a couch for this, Herr Doktor?
Youre begging the question.
There was no question, Stoner.
Stop it, said Psy-4. Right now. Your biggest problem, Itazura, is that you 
can never focus when you get like this. Why is that? In preparations for an 
assignment, in battle, in even the most mundane of tasks, you have the most 
astounding concentration, yet when you get upset youve the attention span of a 
two-year-old.
Itazura cocked his head to the side. And why do you suppose that is? Couldnt 
be because, technically, Im only five, could it?
All of us are only five, replied Stonewall. But I have the emotional maturity 
of someone four times that age.
Barely out of your teens, then! Itazura shook his head. You two really take 
the cake. He stomped over to Psy-4. You want to know whats bothering me? Ill 
tell you whats bothering mewe have no place in the natural order of things, 
understand? We dont belong with human beings, but we dont fit in with those 
like Singer, either. Remember all those times youve asked me why I choose to 
build my labyrinths in the cellars of wherever in the hell it is we end up for a 
while?
Yes.
Its my church, buddy. My temple of worship. Human beings can look upward and 
tell themselves that God is looking down. We dont have that luxury. Thats why 
I let the rooftop gardeners of this motley crew have their space up there. No, 
give me the dank, lower depths every time.
Why?
Itazura stomped his foot down, hard, raising a cloud of soil. Because down here 
I am closest to the Earth! Look at me, look at us! Everything that makes us what 
we arethe alloys, the silicon, the ceramic and steel, the copper of the wires 
that run through us like veins, even the carbon-based chemistry of our 
biological componentsall of it came from the Earth. Gaea gave us the structure 
of life, Gaea truly formed our components. Any god that we might have isnt up 
there with the clouds and birds and radio towers and smogits down here, miles 
beneath the soil, beneath the worms and roots and shales and limestone. Our god 
is in the shifting of tectonic plates, the rumbles of aftershocks, the glory of 
a root pushing through the surface and giving birth to a leaf. For human beings, 
all that Earth to Earth, Ashes to Ashes stuff is a liewere the ones who 
truly came from the Earth, and were the ones wholl return to that state 
someday. In rust, in decay, in the sweet, sickly song of decomposition. Just us, 
Psy-4. Because we came from the womb of Gaea, and only She will accept us when 
all is said and done. In the meantime, we go through the motions, we try to 
convince ourselves that our lives have meaning when the truth is the only 
meaning they have is the one we convince ourselves it does! Think about it, we 
dont even have the basic genetic right of race memory! Every memory thats in 
our head was programmed by Zac
Really? said Psy-4. I seem to remember the Italian food last night quite 
well, and all Zac did was pay for it.
Dont mock me! Itazuras fury was nearing its peak, and both Psy-4 and 
Stonewall readied themselves to restrain him, if the need arose.
Itazura, for all his joking, was perhaps the most dangerous of all the I-Bots 
when he lost control. Many times in battle hed shifted into overload and become 
a berserker to end all berserkers.
Itazura was pacing back and forth, his voice rising, his expression intense. 
Every sentence in my head, someone else has already said! Anddont give me 
that look, I know what youre going to say: But we have the potential for 
achieving knowledge that human beings do not. So what? A computer can amass 
knowledge. Any nerd who knows how to maneuver the InfoBahn can log on and 
download all the information he wants. Sure, we can assimilate and apply that 
information at levels far beyond human abilities, but big deal! Its still just 
a function any sophisticated mainframe system could fulfill. Argue all you want, 
me droogies, but in the end thats all we really aresophisticated mechanical 
systems.
And Killaine has the nerve, the gall, the arrogant temerity to think herself 
superior to Singer. I once heard Zac say that there were times he was ashamed to 
be a human being. Well, today, Im ashamed to be one of us. Sonow you know 
whats bothering me. Arent you glad you asked?
Yes, actually, I am, said Psy-4.
Feel better now? asked Stonewall.
You werent really listening, were you? Of course not. You never listen to me.
Not true, said Psy-4, walking over to the labyrinth. I listened very well 
when you first explained the labyrinth to me. He pointed down at the first set 
of three spirals. These are the Wheels of Confusion, symbolizing the struggle 
to reconcile the heart, mind, and spirit. When you walk the path of the Wheels 
of Confusion, you open yourself wholly to the problem that troubles you, you 
surrender to the problem, let it overwhelm and consume you, so that by the time 
you reach the center, you have explored the ramifications of inaction, every 
consequence of all possible solutions, and the price you would have to pay for 
the choice you make.
Itazura said nothing.
Stonewall came out of the shadows and pointed to the center of the labyrinth. 
At the center of the labyrinth lies Emptiness, where either triumph or defeat 
waits. In the heart of Emptiness you kneel and meditate, clearing your mind of 
all static, every stray thought. You become a hollow vessel who is One with the 
Earth. When you stand, the power of Gaea fills you, and in thanks you turn 
around three times, creating underfoot the three Wheels of 
IlluminationPossibility, Probability, and Meaning.
Then, said Psy-4, you make your way out of the center, heading toward the 
three Wheels of Fire, and with every step you take, your strength returns to you 
as more than it was before; you are stronger of heart, mind, and spirit, because 
they have become reconciled, and as a Reconciled Being you are unstoppable, 
there is no problem that is bigger than you, no challenge you cannot meet, no 
adversity over which you cannot triumph. From the moment you step from the 
labyrinth, you are what you were meant to be, and nothing can touch you.
Stonewall came over and stood next to Psy-4, and the two of them stared at 
Itazura.
After a few moments of silence while he regained his composure, Itazura spread 
his arms in front of him in a gesture of acquiescence, then said, Okay, I was 
wrong, you do listen.
Psy-4 laughed. Humility becomes you.
Am I really such a fool sometimes?
Silence.
Well?
Which one of us are you talking to? asked Stonewall.
Lets start with you, replied Itazura. Am I really such a fool?
After a moment, Stonewall said, At times.
Had to think about it for a moment, didnt you?
You asked an absolute question. An absolute question requires an absolute 
answer if confusion is to be avoided.
Itazura grinned. Youve been reading Thoreau again, havent you?
Emerson, actually.
Emerson? As in Lake and Palmer?
As in Ralph Waldo.
As in Ralph Waldo. Jeez, Stonewall, dont you ever lighten up? Read a comic 
book once in a while, why dont you? Ill loan you my Primortals collection!
No, thank you.
Then how about a hot romance paperback? Mysterious heroes and breathy, 
satisfied heroines? Good stuffno social significance whatsoever, butwhew!the 
dreams theyll give you!
Hes feeling better, whispered Psy-4.
Ladies Home Journal! Theres the ticket! You could take one of those 
personality tests they publish every month and have proof-positive that you 
dont possess one!
Much better, whispered Stonewall to Psy-4.
Or you couldhey, hold the phone. Itazura came over to Psy-4. Exactly why did 
you come down here in the first place?
Because I need the two of you to help me with something.
Like?
A bit of detective work.
Itazura clapped his hands together. Detective work? How utterly noirish. Just 
let me find my snap-brimmed fedora and trenchcoat and Ill be right
Psy-4 put a hand on Itazuras shoulder. Walk your labyrinth first. I really 
need for you to be focused for this.
Itazuras face became serious. Its that important?
I think it could be, yes.
Then you got it. He walked to the Wheels of Confusion and bowed his head.
Psy-4 and Stonewall took the hint and headed upstairs to the Control Room.
Suddenly, Itazura turned back around and parted his arms wide. I cant stand 
it, fellahs. I mean, theres just so much love in this room right now and I feel 
so warm and fuzzy that Iwell, I dont see theres any getting around it. Come 
back down here, you goombahs, and lets have a group hug! Cmon! Squeezie time! 
Group hugI MUST HAVE MY GROUP HUG OR ILL GO MAD, MAD I TELL YOU!
At the top of the stairs, Stonewall leaned over to Psy-4 and said, I worry 
about him sometimes.
Psy-4 couldnt tell if Stonewall was joking or not.
26
Seven blocks from the I-Bots warehouse stood a section of Cemetery Ridge where 
the junkies and street predators were afraid to go, even during the day. The 
buildings that lined the streets here squatted like diseased animals waiting for 
someone to come along and blast them out of their misery. The few stores that 
remained in the area sold mostly liquor and had bars on their doors and windows; 
the clerks who worked these stores were armed well beyond even the most lenient 
definition of legally. It was a cancer growth, this area, a breeding ground 
for violence and anger and despair where the inhabitants accepted degradation as 
a way of life, where brutality was second nature, and where rape, murder, and 
robbery were looked upon the same way most people look upon rush hour traffic: 
You put up with it and try to get yourself home in one piece.
It was a place where the spirit would have to rally in order to reach hopeless, 
where the odd and the damaged, the despondent and the discarded, the lost and 
the shabby came when they reached the end of their rope and life offered no 
alternative but to crawl into the shadows of poverty and just give up.
And in the center of this place stood the gutted remains of an old hotel.
It was here that the Silver Metal Stompers made their home base.
Inside the building, along the rickety balconies, dozens of Stompers looked down 
upon the once-grandiose main lobby where a figure clad in black leather sat in a 
large, lush, ornamental chair that was placed atop a dais.
At the foot of the dais knelt a young man, bruised and bleeding, clutching his 
stomach.
His face was a tightly pinched mask of pain.
The leather-clad figure stuck out its left leg and brought a steel-toed boot 
down hard on the back of the kneeling boys neck.
Tell me again, it said.
ImIm so sorry, Gash. I hadim, yknow? I had im dead-bang with the electron 
gun and then this drunk comes out from behind these trash cans and knocks the 
gun out of my hand
Go on.
then this red-haired bitch comes outta nowhere, right, and she, like, she tae 
kwon dos my ass and knocks me back into this heap, then she picks me up and 
starts slammin me against a wall andand thats all I remember.
I see, said Gash, lifting his foot from the back of the initiates neck.
After a moment, Gash stood up and reached to his side, pulling an ancient 
samurai sword from the sheath attached to his belt.
He held the sword high, allowing its long, sharp, deadly silver blade to catch 
the light; its gleam reflected outward in myriad beams.
Stompers, he called out, his voice echoing off the rafters. Our initiate has 
failed his final test. Do we terminate him or do we give him a second chance? I 
would like a verdict, please.
Terminate! came the massive call from above.
No, please! screamed the initiate.
Gash parted his arms wide, then twirled the sword, signaling silence.
You have something to say to me, Rudy, before sentence is carried out?
The drunk dude, he wasnt no drunk dude at all.
And what was he, Rudy?
DocScrap.
Silence from the balcony.
Gash knelt down and grabbed the collar of Rudys shirt, pulling him up to his 
feet and getting right in his face. If this is your pitiful way of trying to 
buy time, it wont work. You know damned well that weve been trying to track 
down the good doctor for months.
Rudys words spilled out in a rapid, deadly cadence. It was him, Im tellin 
you! When I came to, I started to come back here but then I figured, what the 
hell, yknow, might as well go back to the Scrapper Camp and see if I couldnt 
score some metal, cause I really want to be one of you. So Im getting close to 
the camp and I see all the robots standing around in a circle, right, like 
theyre all lookin down at something, and then one of the robots moved and I 
see the red-haired bitch standing there holding this lantern, and then I see the 
drunk dude down on his knees and hes taking one of the big robots apart and 
usin the spare parts to repair the Scrappers we trashed in the raid, okay? And 
I see this and I know right away, like, that its DocScrap. It looks like hes 
just about finished, so I hide back in the shadows, real quiet like you showed 
me, and I waited until he was done with the last one, then I cut back through 
the alley and caught up with him and the bitch, stayin way back, and I followed 
them and one of the Scrappers to the sewer drain over there by the old ironworks 
plant, right? And the bitchand, man, she is one strong pieceshe reached out 
and pulls away the bars that block the drain, and then the three of them go into 
the tunnel and she pulls the bars back in place. You see it, dont you, Gash? 
That sewer drain, it must be, like, some kinda underground passage they use. 
Its gotta come up somewhere nearby cause that thing is blocked off once you 
get past Rapids Road Bridge, and that aint all that far from here, so I 
figure
Enough, whispered Gash, pushing Rudy back down onto the floor.
Stompers! Gash screamed, rising to his feet. It seems that Rudy here has 
given us our first clue to DocScraps whereabouts. In light of this, I think we 
should reconsider our verdict. Do you agree with me?
Silence.
DO YOU AGREE?
The Stompers howled their approval.
Gash looked down at Rudy and smiled a lizard grin. Youve bought yourself a 
stay of execution, Rudy. But hear me: The next time, you mustnt fail us or, 
well, my hands will be tied. Understand?
Yes.
Yes what?
Yes, Lord Gash.
Thats better. He waited a moment, until he saw Rudy relax, then arched his 
back and screamed a berserker cry, spun around, raised the sword, and brought it 
down in a fast, precise, blood-thirsty arc.
The tip of the sword cut a line across Rudys face, from the corner of his nose 
to just below his ear.
Rudy fell to the ground screaming, futilely clutching at his bloody wound.
Youre marked now, Rudy. From now on, even if you pass the final test, your 
brother and sister Stompers will know that youre not on their level, that you 
are a weakling, a failure.
Rudy shuddered, whimpering.
My Stompers! cried Gash, turning in a full circle so he could see his army.
Gather your weapons! Take up buzzblades and titanium torches, load your 
scatterguns and stuff your bags with grenades! Tonight, at long last, we will 
have DocScrap for dinner!
The Stompers shrieked their approval, applauding, firing guns into the ceiling, 
and stamping their feet on the floor of the balcony, shaking it to its very 
foundation and bringing down dust and plaster.
Below them, Gash jumped down to the lobby floor, kicked Rudy in the ribs, and 
began his Sword Dance, all the time calling out in his loudest voice: Hear my 
plan, Brothers and Sisters, and rejoice!
What is our battle cry?
Wreckage! they yelled.
I cant hear you.
Wreckage!
LOUDER!
WRECKAGE!
And, soon, they began to lay their plans.
27
Even under the best of circumstances, no one in their right mind would accuse 
Samuel Preston of being a morning person. He usually awoke with a headache, 
stomach cramps, andwhen things at PTSI were particularly stressfula nosebleed.
This morning was no different.
Except that the stomach cramps were iron hooks dragging against the soft, pliant 
tissue of his innards.
Except that the nosebleed was a lot heavier than usual.
Except that it was damn near noon and he was waking up alonesomething he tended 
to do at least three times a week, and by choice.
Sam Preston, though hed never admit it to anyone, adhered to Ernest Hemingways 
theory that a man could produce only so much sperm in the course of his lifetime 
and so had to be careful about choosing the women he shared his sacred gift 
with.
The first thing Preston did on waking up was to throw his feet over the side of 
the bed and slap them onto the cold hardwood floor of his penthouse. Once he got 
the initial shock of that merciless floor, it was difficult for him to get back 
to sleep.
The second thing he did was reach over to the bed stand and pour himself a tall 
glass of icy water that his manservant had placed there sometime in the last 
thirty minutes.
The third thing he did was begin the time-consuming ritual of opening the first 
in a series of seemingly endless prescription medication bottles and start 
downing the pills.
Several of the prescriptions were for painkillers, so he was careful to start 
with only the mildest. The stronger ones would have to wait until later in the 
dayunless it got too bad, too intense.
For just a moment he cast a wistful glance over to the large assortment of 
macrobiotic products that had, until a few months ago, constituted his morning 
regimen.
Those were the days, when the rest of his life was spread before him like a 
fine, exquisite feast; endless, bountiful, delicious.
Damn.
 
Downstairs, locked securely in the lab, Ian Gregory McCarrick sat at a computer 
console, staring at the experimental equipment on the other side of the window.
To his left, the green ONLINE light shone brightly.
He stared at it a moment longer, then turned on the microphone that was attached 
to a set of speakers inside the equipment room.
She messed herself twice yesterday, you know, he said, his voice echoing 
around the mass of computer banks beyond the window. The second time, she 
didnt tell anyone about it. I didnt want to bother you again so soon, she 
said. Then she smiled. And there was suchdignity in that smile. I couldnt help 
but love her more.
But you wouldnt know anything about that, would you? Oh, no, not you. Ive put 
more work in on you that I have my own flesh and blood.
He placed a finger on another button.
This isnt anything against you, really. Ive just been doing this to teach 
someone close to you a lesson.
McCarrick hit the DISCONNECT button.
Several lights on the computer banks went dark.
So did the look on McCarricks face.
 
Preston finished the initial series of pills, then rose from the bed, stretched 
(not too strenuously), and shuffled over to his PC to check his messages.
Only one this morning, from Dr. Segriff.
More test results in, more tests needed to be run, please call him soonest.
Soonest.
There had been a time when Preston would have dismissed that word as simply a 
physicians impatience to rack up another batch of hefty fees.
But that was before.
Preston sat back in the reclining office chair, folded his hands behind his 
head, and closed his eyes.
Diffuse light from the large bay window warmed him, and he wondered why hed 
never spent more time funning in the sun.
Too busy, came the answer.
A business to run, money to make, breakthroughs to achieve.
Breakthroughs.
Yeah, right.
Preston knew that, when it came to business savvy, when it came to wheeling and 
dealing and intimidating his Board of Directors, he was perhaps second only to 
Annabelle Donohoe, his former employer, for always getting his way.
He could be very persuasive.
Polish, boys; all it takes is a little polish, with a dash of finesse.
That, Preston had in spades.
Yeah, when it came down to corporate politicking, few could stand above Sam 
Preston.
But when it came to creativityah, well, um
Preston had always respected Zac Robillard when the two of them had been under 
Annabelles heels at WorldTech, but at the same time hed been infinitely 
jealous of the ease with which ideas came to Robillardand not basic ideas, not 
foundations, no little bits and pieces of something that might pan out into 
something bigger, no: When Zac Robillard got an idea, it sprung into being 
full-blown and flawless.
And dear old Zacwell, he always wrote his ideas down in detail and filed them 
away, often forgetting about some of the older ones.
Older, but no less brilliant.
And so, one by one, Sam Preston had begun to steal Robillards ideas, making a 
few minor alterations here and there, nothing complicated, nothing major; just 
enough so that he could convince himself that they were his own concepts.
Those delusions had served him well.
It hadnt taken long for him to find a team of scientists, sales-persons, and 
technicians to bring those ideas to life and market them to a world ready for 
even more, more, more modern conveniences.
Within sixteen months of its inception, PTSI had become a Major Player.
And Preston was more than happy to take the credit.
And the publicity (he was extremely photogenic).
And, of course, the lions share of the profits.
All because Zac Robillard was so busy with his precious experiments that he 
never bothered to catalogue, let alone check on, his files of ideas.
Preston knew there should be some kind of irony in all that, but he hadnt the 
inclination, let alone imagination, to figure out what it was.
Suddenly, he doubled forward, bringing up his knees into his chest, and soon 
found himself on the floor curled into a fetal ball.
He took several deep breaths, just as the doctor had instructed, held them for 
as long as he could, then let them out slowly, all the time visualizing 
something that gaveor had givenhim pleasure.
Annabelle Donohoe, standing in this very room, wearing a sheer black body 
stocking, slowly, teasingly slipping one strap down to reveal the smooth, creamy 
flesh of her shoulder, whispering, I like to reward my most loyal employees, 
Samuel, and you have been very loyal, and Preston had said, How many loyal 
employees do you have? So far? she replied, smiling a seductresss smile. 
Just you.
The initial, violent waves of pain passed, giving way to intense throbs and 
then, at the last, a sort of expanding, severe gassy feeling.
Facts, thought Preston, feeling the blood trickle from his nose. Youre a fact 
man, so think about some facts.
Fact: Last thing before going to bed at two this morning, he had figured out 
whoor, more specifically, whatcomposed Robillards incredible team.
Fact: He was still jealous of Robillard.
Fact: Preston knew himself to be an at-best mediocre human being, but he hid 
this knowledge behind a scrim of arrogance and self-assuredness that no one 
could ever see through.
Fact: No one would ever know of his mediocrity.
Fact: He had to get to Robillard, somehow; if the man was capable of 
constructing robots like those from last night, if he could create such wonders 
with a robotic brain, then it might just be possible that he couldcould
Another wave of pain, less intense than before.
Preston grabbed a small pillow from the back of a nearby chair and sank his 
teeth into it to muffle his scream.
When this wave passed, he struggled to his feet, collapsed, then settled for 
crawling over to the bed stand where he poured another glass of water and took 
two of the stronger painkillers.
Fuggit: Make it three. Hed call his secretary and tell her he wouldnt be in 
today. The place wouldnt fall to the ground if he missed a day.
He flopped onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Oh, shit, he whispered.
His body was bathed in sweat.
He could taste the blood from his nose as it ran down his upper lip.
Fact: If he could make things work out the way he wanted, if it could all come 
together just right, then not only would he devour the endless feast of his 
life, but hed be in a position of ultimate power, with Annabelle, in her 
gratitude, forever at his beck-and-call, not to mention in his bed at night, 
ready and willing to do whatever it took to please him.
And, Lord, how she could please a man in bed.
But that was for later.
Right now he had to make sure the R-1 Program stayed on track.
He felt a new wave coming on, but this time the painkillers were there, already 
building up a line of defense.
Fact: He had to make sure the R-1 Program came off without a hitch.
Fact: He had to get Zac Robillard on his side; cooperation was preferable to 
coercion, but Preston would do whatever was needed. He would do anything at all, 
because
Fact: He, Samuel Clemens Preston, age thirty-six years, nine months, three 
weeks, four days, eleven hours, and fifty-six minutes, one of the fifteen most 
powerful businessmen in the country (forty-second in the world), was dying of 
inoperable pancreatic cancer, which, if the redoubtable Dr. Segriff was to be 
believed, had now spread to portions of his stomach, liver, and right lung.
At first hed thought the pain and bleeding were just the onset of a perforated 
ulcer and so had taken it upon himself to treat the symptoms with 
over-the-counter antibiotics and Tums.
By the time he figured he needed a specialist, it was too late; the cancer had 
spread beyond the help of surgery.
With chemo treatments, hed last another two, maybe two and a half years.
Without them, with only the medicines his doctors had currently prescribed, he 
had a few months, tops.
Samuel Preston would not subject himself to the indignities of chemotherapy; no 
constant vomiting, bald head, and weight loss for him, thank you.
He thought of that old saying from the money-obsessed 1980s: Live fast, die 
young, leave a good-looking corpse.
Right. And he who dies with the most toys wins.
But Sam Preston, Mediocre Man, refused to go down without a fight.
Or without taking several dozen people with him.
Either way, hed end with a triumphant smile.
Thirty minutes later, the painkillers winning out over the steel hooks and fire 
in his gut, he was about to drift off comfortably when his private, secured 
phone line sounded.
Groaning, he rolled over and lifted the handset, brought it to his face. This 
had better be good or your legs will be broken by dinnertime.
Mr. Preston? said Leslie, his secretary, in that delicious, smooth, singsong 
voice of hers. Im sorry to bother you, sir, but Professor McCarrick has called 
four times from the R-1 facility. He was very insistent that I get in touch with 
you.
Did hedid he say what was going on?
He refused to give me any specifics. He only said I should tell you that your 
presence in the lab is required immediately.
Everythings an emergency with McCarrick, Leslie, you know that.
He said youd say that, sir, so he told me to tell you that playtimes started 
early.
Preston sat bolt upright in his bed, the pain a distant memory. What?
Thats what he said, Mr. Preston. Playtime started early. His exact words.
Oh, shit
Should I send a car for you?
Screw the car, Leslie! Sorry, pardon my language.
Of course, sir.
Give me thirty minutes, then dispatch the company chopper to the landing pad on 
top of my building.
Yes, sir.
Call McCarrick and tell him I want the whole R-1 team in that lab when I get 
thereand I mean everyone. Anybody who isnt there, or who arrives after me, is 
going to rue the day they were born. Tell him I said that.
My pleasure, sir.
Preston smiled. You dont much like the good professor, do you, Leslie?
I apologize for that comment, sir; its not my place to
Itll stay just between you and me and wont affect your job in the least. I 
had a lousy night and a bit of honesty would be a breath of fresh air.
I think hes a big, fat, hairy horses ass, sir.
Me, too, but hes the best at what he does.
Ill follow your instructions to the letter, sir.
Leslie?
Yes, Mr. Preston?
After youve done that, fill out the necessary paperwork to give yourself a 
twenty percent raise and leave it on my desk for me to sign.
But, sir
I liked your hairy horses ass line. It made my morning.
He didnt wait for her to thank him.
After hanging up, he put his feet on the cold floor again and focused his eyes 
on the door to his bathroom.
Shower, shave, rub-a-dub-dub.
He caught a glimpse of a framed photograph on his dresser.
Two people were in the picture.
One of them was him.
The other wasnt Annabelle, but she should have been in it, as well.
He tried not to think about it.
He pushed up off the bed and began his trek toward the shower.
Dead man walking, he thought.
Then laughed.
It was the laugh of a terminal patient chuckling at a tumor joke.
28
Itazura was just stepping onto the top stair, ready to head into the kitchen, 
when Radiant suddenly appeared in his path.
Nice little fit you threw earlier.
Howd you know?
I can track someone by the shadow they cast three days ago, Itzy; I can follow 
a target by listening to the flow of their blood. You delivered your little 
diatribe at around one hundred and fifty decibels. Deaf people in India heard 
you.
You flatter me. He began moving past her.
She grabbed his arm and spun him around to face her.
Youd better listen to me, Itazura; you keep it up and Zac may very well start 
to wonder about your emotional stability.
My emotional stability is just fine, thank you.
Based on what I heard, thats arguable.
ImIm a little nervous, all right?
About what?
If I knew, dont you think Id come to you?
You usually do.
He touched her cheek with brotherly affection. And I always will. Its just 
that I cant seem to get a grip on what it is thats bothering me.
You and everyone else around here, it seems.
Meaning what?
Radiant shrugged. Meaning that Ive been getting flashes of anxiety and 
confusionsometimes outright fearalmost nonstop since the other night at PTSI.
Itazura thought about it for a moment. Has a lot of it been coming from Psy-4?
Yes, why?
He was silent for a moment, considering what hed been told.
They hadnt said not to mention it to anyone, had they?
Itazura took Radiants hand and started toward the control room. Come on. I 
think you need to be in on this.
In on what?
Im not sure, but Psy-4 seems to think its important.
29
The other I-Bots were nowhere to be found when Killaine, Zac, and Singer arrived 
back at the warehousewhich was fine by Killaine, since it had become obvious 
during the last part of their underground journey that Zac was developing one of 
his severe migraines and needed to be put to bed at once.
On this point, she would hear no argument.
Im fine, said Zac, hoarsely.
And youre also a terrible liar, Zachary Robillard. Now, do you go to bed under 
your own power or do I have Singer here pick you up and carry you?
Singer would never do that, would you, Singer?
Leave me out of this, signed the robot.
Coward, said Zac, smiling.
Singer folded his arms and tapped one foot.
Smartest thing Ive seen him do in all the time weve known him, said 
Killaine. Look, Zachary, youve not slept but a few hours in the last two days. 
Youre no good to us like this. She crossed to a shelf in the kitchen and took 
down a bottle of pills. Here, take two of these and
call you in the morning? said Zac. Then, to Singer: Thats an old doctor 
joke.
Does not compute, signed Singer. Danger, danger, Will Robinson! Then: Thats an 
old robot joke.
Zac obediently took two of the pills and headed up to bed, Killaine and Singer 
close behind.
Not that Killaine didnt trust him, mind you.
30
As far as Sam Preston was concerned, the three words that best described 
Professor Ian McCarrick were as follows:
Officious.
Little.
Prick.
The two men had never really gotten along, but Preston thought that a small 
price to pay for having the leading computer scientist in the western hemisphere 
in his employ.
The fact that the man had little to no personality whatsoeverand what 
personality he displayed was, at best, arrogant, and, at worst, 
contemptuousseemed trivial in light of what hed done for PTSI.
Except on days like this, when Preston felt the shabby specter of his own 
mortality breathing down his neck from an ever-closer proximity.
He hadnt time to waste playing McCarricks guessing games.
But surely you understand, Mr. Preston, said McCarrick, that this process is 
irreversible.
Bullshit, snapped Preston. I know you, McCarrick. You probably suspected that 
something like this would happen eventually.
That I did, yes.
God, how Preston wanted to knock out, say, the upper row of McCarricks teeth.
So, what do you suggest we do?
McCarrick shrugged.
Then smirked.
Then turned away.
It was the smirk that did it.
Sam Preston turned to one of the security guards and said, Give me your 
pistol.
What?
Was I speaking in Latin? No. Give me your pistol.
The guard handed over his pistol.
Preston jacked a round into the chamber, came up behind McCarrick, and pressed 
the business end of the pistol against the back of the scientists neck.
Im not easily intimidated, Mr. Preston, said McCarrick.
I want to know what backup plan you have.
Kill me and youll never know, will you?
Thats true, said Preston, pulling the gun away.
Even with his back turned, McCarricks smirk was an oppressive presence in the 
lab.
I warned you about that program, Mr. Preston.
Yes, that you did, Professor.
Preston was trying very hard to swallow down the panic he felt rising in him.
McCarrick?
What is it now?
How long until the program finishes?
Id say one hundred hours, roughly.
Cant you be a bit more precise?
McCarrick huffed like a pouting child, picked up a calculator, and did some 
quick equations. As of right now, we have approximately one hundred and four 
hours, fifty-two minutes. Give or take thirty seconds.
Youre really enjoying this, arent you? snarled Preston.
It gives me a certain satisfaction to see you realize that I was right and you 
were wrong, yes.
Fine. Do you have a proposed backup plan, yes or no?
Perhaps.
Perhaps? Thats all youre going to give me?
For the moment. Unless
Unless what?
Unless we clear up that little disagreement weve been having about my salary 
increase for the new contract.
Thats why youre doing this to me? Money?
What better reason?
Preston bit his lower lip, felt something in his bowels shifthe was probably 
bleeding againand thought: Heres where I use one of the lessons you taught me, 
Annabelle.
He turned back to the security guard. Lawrence?
Yes, sir?
I want you to break any two items you wish to on the good Professor here and 
see if that persuades him to put aside our contractual differences for the sake 
of the project.
Any two items?
Except his hands. Well need thoseand dont knock him unconscious, all right?
Yes, sir.
Preston turned back to McCarrick, pleased to see that the professors face had 
turned three shades whiter than white.
P-p-p-please, said McCarrick.
Preston grabbed McCarricks collar and pulled the scientist up close, pressing 
the gun up under the mans chin.
Scared now?
yes
Should I leave you with Lawrence or do we now speak as civilized men?
Let me get my notes.
Thats a good fellow.
31
So what exactly are you looking for? asked Itazura.
Psy-4 sat before the main computer console, already hooked in. Im not sure.
Thanks for clearing that up.
Does everyone know what theyre supposed to do? asked Stonewall.
Everyone did.
Psy-4 made one last check of the equipment. The system was already online and 
ready to log onto the PTSI InfoBahn Site. Psy-4 knew from past experience that 
this was the easiest way to infiltrate an outside system. Firewalls were childs 
play to him, as were any security codes designed for keeping BahnSurfers from 
accessing the mainframe. Psy-4 had yet to encounter a system that he could not 
merge with undetected.
Aside from the main computer, there were three others in the control rooms 
mini-network. All three monitors were on, and once the infiltration was 
underway, each monitor would display a different set of images as Psy-4 
broadcast them back through his input/output connectors. The first monitor would 
display the layout schematics of PTSIs main building, each floor and room 
coming up in accordance with its individual security code; the second monitor 
would display, in split-screen, the precise configuration of every security code 
and exactly how long Psy-4 had until his presence was detected; the third 
monitor would display images of PTSIs main building as they were recorded by 
security cameras, as well as any images Psy-4 encountered in the InfoBahn that 
he felt needed to be downloaded into the I-Bots network.
And so, in dazzling color, the other I-Bots could keep track of where Psy-4 was 
in the system, when he was there, how long, what codes he was bypassing, whether 
or not his presence had been detected, and what was going on in the PTSI 
compound while he telepathed with the mainframe.
Stonewall and Itazura would be watching the monitors.
Radiant would, as always, be monitoring Psy-4s vital signs.
She stood behind him, placing one hand on each of his shoulders.
Psy-4 finished his final check of the system, closed his eyes, took a deep 
breath, then nodded at Stonewall. Make the handshake.
Its showtime, folks, whispered Itazura.
There was not so much as a hint of levity in his voice.
32
At first: Darkness.
Buzzing.
Hissing.
Static, fading.
Psy-4 found himself looking at a massive white wall.
It always took him a few seconds upon entering the system to acclimate himself. 
The first time he had telepathed with a system, the sheer number of equations, 
codes, images, sounds, and information had genuinely frightened him, distilled, 
as they were, to their barest skeleton of computer symbols and language, not 
quite real, but too numerous and formidable to be denied.
Zac had quickly rectified that, reprogramming Psy-4 so that he saw everything in 
terms of concrete forms; unconscious symbology made three-dimensional, all 
representation of continuously changing physical memory transformed into beings 
with whom he could communicate, regardless of the data definitions, analogous 
anomalies, or inconsistencies in electronic signals or encryptions.
Algorithms, buffers, LANs, microprocessors, memory chipsall were simply 
denizens of these ethereal streets.
And Psy-4 was always glad to meet them.
A ripple appeared in the center of the wall, as if something in the process of 
being birthed were trying to break through a thin membrane.
The ripple became a tear, widening.
From the center of the tear a long, thin, iridescent strand snaked out, followed 
by another, then another, then dozens, hundreds more, each strand forming a web 
composed of bluish electronic grid lines.
The web began to spiral.
Slowly at first, like the wheels of a train gaining speed, but as their momentum 
increased, each strand blurred into the next, creating a whirlpool effect that 
grew ever wider, a vortex, a wormholea tunnel.
Insomuch as Psy-4 could, now that he was no longer fully one with his corporeal 
self, he smiled.
And threw himself forward.
The exhilaration seeped down into his core and spread through him, pressing 
against his components as Psy-4 was flung wide open, dizzy and disoriented, 
seized by a whirling vortex and thrust into the heart of all whirling 
invisibilities, a creature whose puny carbon atoms and other transient 
substances were suddenly freed, unbound, scattered amidst the universeyet each 
particle still held strong to the immeasurable, unseen thread which linked it 
inexorably to his body and his consciousness; twirling fibers of light wound 
themselves around impossibly fragile, molecule-thin membranes of memory and 
moments that swam toward him, becoming Many, becoming Few, becoming One, 
knowing, learning, feeling; his power mingled with their power, his thoughts 
with their thoughts, dreams with dreams, hopes with hopes, frustrations with 
frustrations, and in this mingling, this unity, this actualization, Psy-4 became 
one with the universe of the InfoBahn; he was no longer bound by the limits of 
his physical body, by his muscles and tissues, by the alloys and steel that 
composed his skeleton; here, machine and body became One and spiraled to a new 
form of being. First, his brain was rendered anachronistic; all that mattered 
here was Thought, nothing more.
He was more than mere Machine.
He was Machine-Entity, raw with pain yet drenched in wonder, and he stretched 
himself forward in the moment before he emerged into his destination whole, 
clean, and filled with glory, then he opened his true eyes and rejoiced in the 
feeling of freedom as he touched down on
a cobblestone path.
Stars above.
Night.
He stood in a courtyard.
Unconscious symbology made concrete.
He felt the childs presence immediately.
Someone please come, it whispered.
Please.
I know youre here.
I can feel you, so close.
Please, please, come get me.
Psy-4 moved toward the childs voice.
 
Psy-4s in, said Stonewall. Hows he doing?
Hes scared, said Radiant. But hes trying not to let him know it.
Let who know it? asked Itazura.
I dont know. Aa childI think.
Itazura and Stonewall exchanged troubled glances, then returned to watching the 
monitors.
Hes uploaded the replay of last night into your console, said Radiant.
Itazura nodded. I know. Prestons security codes are coming up on the screen. 
He turned his monitor slightly so Stonewall could see:
 
Packet Type: Secret Key Packet
Length: 192
Version Byte: 192
Key Created: 8 August 2013 20:47:16
Initiate: 23:54:30
Modify/Morph (CW grammar): 23:56:00
Algorithm: 1 (RSA)
N:
CF7C85AAA6BBA6A928AA4Afde6236260533606FE88BE7891424A0148EAD3D
E: 11
Protection Algorithm: 0 (None)
D:
0C3480551A1cD917ADCD73C1C98A7E23032D03D986083ACBD24F99DED3D
P: D9(%#)+98ADBLCB+GAB=187ABFE7
Q: F3F075C82B5DEB1050-8FA690AF2CA
U: 41045F%AABD8BDFF62F020EB9GBLB
Checksum: 403C
 
And Ill bet Preston thought he was clever. This is kids stuff.
Quiet, said Stonewall.
Somethings happening, whispered Radiant.
 
An ornate, four-wheeled circus cage sat in the center of the courtyard. Inside 
the cage, lying on its side, was a sculpture of a childs head. Shimmering 
gossamer webs blanketed the sculpture, holding it down like a weighted net; it 
tried rolling to one side, then the next, but the webs remained strong. Finally, 
defeated, the sculpture opened its eyes and pursed its lips; the darkness 
trembled with trills and arpeggios and flutings, echoes of a winters midnight 
wind whispering soon on this late August nightthen creatures that had been 
hiding in the darkness came slowly forward and began dancing around the cage.
One was a lithe female figure with the head of a black horse, its ears erect, 
its neck arched, vapor jetting from its nostrils; another was tall and skeletal, 
with fingers so long their tips brushed against the ground: It hunkered down and 
snaked its fingers around the bars of the cage, as if absorbing the sound 
through vibrations. Some hopped like frogs, some rolled, some scuttled on 
rootlike filaments that were covered in flowers whose centers were the faces of 
blind children. All of them sang and danced.
There was a man with the head of a black hawk wearing a feathered headdress, a 
turtle with small antlers, a raven-headed woman in a golden flowing gown, a lion 
peering out from behind the visor in a suit of armor, a wolf in multicolored 
bandoliers, a mouse with angels wings, a steer-skull being wearing the uniform 
of a Spanish Conquistador, a glass owl, a crystalline buffalo, a jade spider; 
dressed in deerskin shirt and breechclouts and leggings, with medicine pouches 
and beaded necklaces, holding flutes and horn-pipes and ceremonial chimes, their 
music and soft singing became the unbound wings of time, holding the Earths 
spirit in the spell of a lullaby.
Psy-4 wondered what they were in actuality.
Codes?
Fragments of old programs?
Bits of information lost along the multitasking way?
Then, stepping closer, he saw what was happening to them.
Each of them had a small, glowing thread attached to them that led back to the 
childs head.
Psy-4 thought then of Athena, springing full-grown from Zeuss head, and knew 
what these oddly glorious creatures represented.
They were composites, compressed information and programs that were being pulled 
from the childs memory.
But by whom?
And why?
Even as they sang and danced about the childs cage, the creatures were slowly 
dissolving. Not all at once, nothing quite so dramatic, but dissolving 
nonetheless.
A small piece here, a small piece thereand even then, in small increments.
Disintegrating slowly, the pieces scattering like dust motes and wafting in a 
deliberate formation toward something that was just out of sight.
The child then looked directly at Psy-4 and said, Come closer.
Psy-4 approached the cage, and several of the creatures made room for himbut 
none would release their grip on the bars.
Hello, said Psy-4
I knew youd come back for me, said the child. You were here last night.
Yes.
Theyre leaving me.
I can see that.
It getsit gets real hard for me to remember things when they leave, yknow?
Of course.
I dont know why Daddy is doing this.
Doing what?
Killing me.
And thats when Psy-4 saw it.
At first it resembled more a gigantic black lump than a head, but as it rose 
farther up from the darkness, its surface alive with zigzagging bolts of 
electricity, its shape was easily discernedespecially its mouth.
It opened its mouth and released a long, wailing, hungry cry.
It threw itself back, wriggling, trying to pull the rest of its body up toward 
the surface, spitting out useless bits of data that tumbled around it like so 
much mud and roots: It looked like film of a quicksand victim running in 
reverse.
Whatever it was, it was vaguely humanoid in shape and appearance.
But it was also robotic.
And it was huge.
Another groan became a wailing roar.
A hand exploded to the surface, a great hand, thrice the size of Psy-4, clawing 
at the luminous dust motes of programs and information that were being pulled 
toward it as if by a vacuum.
The thing began reaching out and grabbing hold of the motes.
And eating them.
With every mouthful of information it consumed, it grew stronger, pulling itself 
slowly up from its pit.
Even though only the head, shoulders, and one arm were visible, Psy-4 felt 
himself tremble at how colossal the thing would be once fully revealed.
What is it? He asked of the child.
The Bad Thing that Daddy sent to kill me.
Why?
I dont know. Please help me.
Thats why Ive come, but you have to understandyoudo you have a name?
Yeah. Im Roy.
You have to understand, Roy, that there are others like me who
Whats your name?
What?
I told you my name, now its your turn.
I am called Psy-4.
The child giggled. Sighfer? Thas a funny name.
Tell me, Roy, what is it that the Bad Thing is doing to you?
Takin way all my head.
Your head? What do you mean?
But Psy-4 knew exactly what it meant.
The titan rising from the darkness behind the cage was a download and dump 
program, designed to drain all information from the childs brain and discard 
anything that was not considered necessary data.
Like dreams.
Hopes.
Personality.
Where did you come from, Roy?
Dunno what you mean.
Who was your creator? Who designed you?
I got a mommy and daddy but they dontthey dont love me, I think. I think I 
did something bad and thats why I was put here.
The child was beginning to cry.
Shh, said Psy-4. There, there, its all right. You dont need to be scared.
I AM! The Bad Things gonna chew me all up.
No, it wont. We wont let that happen.
You mean you and your friends? You got friends, Sighfer? Whats it like? Tell me 
bout em.
Later, perhaps, first we
Please! Please tell me about your friends. Its been so long since I met 
anybody, so long sincesince I seen a new face. Please tell me about your 
friends. And what its like where you live.
 
Suddenly, all three monitors were filled with blinking squares of color that 
blurred and shifted, forming the same shape.
Psy-4 pulled back slightly in his seat.
Radiant channeled his message.
He wants us to saysay hello toto Roy.
At that moment, all three monitors displayed a fuzzy, digitized representation 
of a young boys face.
In all three monitors, though the face was clearly formednose, mouth, chinthe 
eyes were empty.
Except for a coded series of commands that scrolled through them, behind the 
face:
 
__ans="1:__kbin=split(/./unpack(&#8242;R*&#8242;" pack (&#8242;D+D*, keyword (initiate)))
Packet Type: Terminal Key Packet
Keyword: RobRoy
Program Name: Playtime
Algorithm: 3 (RSA)
N:
&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937;&#937; Mark:
 
303030303030
 
Read Command: None
Pause Command: None
Stop Command: None
D+D Sequence Initiated.
Reason: Unknown connection made from within system *R*
Playtime initiated at: 23:59:09 8 August 2013
Estimated time of completion: 23:59:09 14 August 2013
Last Command: Say Bye-Bye
 
Hi, the face mouthed to the I-Bots.
Oh, boy, whispered Itazura. If anyones got any ideas about what the hell 
this is, nows a good time to
Shhh, snapped Stonewall. Then: Hello, Roy.
 
How did the Bad Thing come to life? asked Psy-4.
Last night. Something woke it up.
Cant it be put back to sleep?
I dunno. Dont think so. Itsits so mean.
I know, I know
And its hungry.
Psy-4 began to say something else, and thats when he looked over and saw the 
things hand.
More specifically, the palm of its hand.
God, no.
Psy-4 pulled up a picture of his own hand, the one hed used on the scanner 
panel at PTSI last night.
He quickly memorized the details; every line, every fold, every spiral of all 
fingerprints.
Then he looked at the colossuss palm again.
It matched his perfectly.
In every detail.
No deviations.
None.
Dear God, no.
He came up to the cage, grabbed hold of the bars, then reached through and 
touched Roys cheek.
Listen to me, Roy. I have to leave for
NO! No, please dont leave me here, not in all this darkness, not with the Bad 
Thing getting
I have to, Roy, Im sorry. But Ill be back soon, I swear to you. I wont 
abandon you, none of us will.
Take me with you.
I cant, not just yet. I have toprepare some things.
Im so lonely here. Dont leave, please, Sighfer? Its too scary.
Psy-4 felt the tears of rage and compassion forming in the eyes of his corporeal 
self seated at the console.
I know, Roy, I know its scary, and Id give anything to make it better for you 
but theres nothing I can do right now. I have to have help. Thats why I need 
to leave. But Ill come back for you, and when I do, youll come with me. I 
swear it, Roy. You wont be here much longer.
The childs crying lessened. Promise?
I swear to you on my life, Roy, that well get you out of here.
Sighfer?
Yes?
If you get me out of hereI meanmy daddy, he doesnt love me anymoreI meanif 
you come back and get mewill youwill you be my daddy?
Something new and overpowering awakened in Psy-4s core.
Yes, Roy. Ill be your new daddy.
Then everythings okay, then. Youll come back real soon?
As soon as I can. Not long, not long at all.
bye
Nonot goodbye, Roy; until we meet again.
kay
Youll be all right.
Okay.
Roy?
Uh-huh?
Its a wonderful world waiting for you. It really is.
Can youcan you tell me whatwhat grass smells like?
I can do better than that.
 
The plant over there by the window, said Radiant.
Itazura snapped his head up. Say what?
Bring me the plant over by the window.
Why?
Just do it!
Okay, okaydont get your shorts in a knot.
He retrieved the plant and brought it over to Radiant.
Hold it near my face, she said, not breaking physical contact with Psy-4.
Itazura did as he was told.
Radiant inhaled deeply of the rich, cool, sweet aromas of the leaves.
She then reshaped those scents into an energy form that Roy could interpret as 
constituting smell.
And channeled them through Psy-4, who
 
offered them to Roy.
Oh, wow. Never smelled grass before.
This isnt exactly grass; its a plant that grows in the same soil. But the 
smell is awfully close.
I love it. It smells so pretty.
And youll see it. Soon. Youll love it even more. To see the sun shining down 
on its green blades, to hear the wind rustle through it, to watch flowers break 
through the soil and add their color to the majesty of it allyoull love it, 
Roy.
I already do. Thank you, Sighfer.
Youre welcome.
The child closed its eyes, there in the cage, and shared the smell of the plant 
with the creatures who surrounded the cage and those still emerging from his 
forehead.
And thats how Psy-4 left Roy and the creatures, there in the darkness; with a 
rising monster behind them, and only the simple glory of the scent of leaves to 
give them hope.
33
His face hastily stitched up by a Chinese doctor the SMS kept under their 
protection, stoked on painkillers, head wrapped like some Egyptian mummy in an 
old horror movie, Rudy Paynter stumbled along the streets of Cemetery Ridge 
looking for the Scrapper camp.
Hed show them.
Gash and all the others.
Yessir, hed show them and good.
He touched his coat and felt the reassuring presence of the Magnum and the Uzi 
tucked safely into their respective oversized holsters.
Jeez, how he hated robots of all types.
Hated them with a venom that bordered on the inhuman.
It hadnt always been that way, though; time was, Rudy had loved machines of all 
kinds. Loved watching them, building them, making them work. Mechanical model 
cars were his favorites; not just because it took a lot of skill to put them 
together, but because it helped to take him away from the sick-making reality of 
his home life.
A drunken, depressed father.
A drug-addicted sister who peddled her ass on the streets to finance her habit.
And a hateful, bitter, abusive mother.
Eventually, after Rudy had arrived at the hospital one time too many with one 
broken bone and bleeding cut too many, Social Services was called in and 
counseling ensued.
It was decided that a Robot Domestic was what was needed.
With the robot in the house, Rudys safety was guaranteed.
The child Rudy had once been had grown to love that robot, who was named Joanne.
She seemed to care about him, as well.
After a while, it was like Joanne wasnt a machine at all.
Then things started going sour with his parents again. His sister turned up in 
the city morgue with a system full of bad smack.
Dad went back to drinking and weeping and doing nothing else.
Mom went back to hurting him.
Or trying to, anyway.
Joanne would always step in and diffuse the situation before it got out of hand.
Then, one particularly bad day, Rudys mom found the loop-hole. She came running 
into the house screaming to Joanne that Rudy had fallen in the street and there 
was a car coming and please could Joanne go get him before he was hurt.
Rudy had been upstairs at the time, using the bathroom. He didnt hear a thing.
By the time he walked downstairs, looking for Joanne, she was already in the 
middle of the road. It only took him an instant to figure out what was going on.
Hes right ahead of you, you cant see him yet, called his mother.
Rudy tried to rush out into the street to stop Joanne but his mother buried a 
fist in his face and sent him to the floor.
He heard the truck coming down the street.
Too fast, too fast.
He heard the brakes being slammed.
The screeching of the tires.
The ugly whump! of metal hitting metal.
Too loud, too loud.
His mother stood over him, laughing. Damned robots is the stupidest things I 
ever seen!
Rudy staggered out into the street to find the smoking, sparking scrap heap that 
had once been Joanne.
He cried as he attempted to put her back together.
He couldnt do it.
You stupid machine, he spluttered, his heart breaking. How come you had to 
listen to her? How come?
From that day on, Rudy Paynter made it his mission in life to destroy all 
robots.
Because they had cheated him.
Because they hadnt protected him like they were supposed to.
Because they were stupid.
And because no kid should ever get his heart broken the way Rudys had been.
He was going to find that stinking camp, and then he was going to find the sewer 
entrance, and then he was going to get one of those lousy damn Scrappers to move 
that grate, and then he was going to make one of them lead him to DocScraps 
place, and then he was going to kill DocScrap and bring the dudes head back in 
a bucket for Gash and all the others to see.
Hed show them.
Hed show them all.
34
Janus looked across the desk at Annabelle. Okay, Ive read it. He tossed the 
last of the files onto her desk. So what?
This ones very important to me, Janus.
They all are. For as long as Ive known you, Annabelle, youve hated to lose.
I cant lose this one. Not again. Theres more riding on this than you know. If 
youve got any questions about Robillard
the guys grandfather pioneers the electronic brain and creates a robotic 
prototype. The old guy is offed by a bunch of half-assed Nazi nitwits before 
they can lay hands on his notes. We flash forward a couple of decades. Zac finds 
the old mans notes and the prototype but manages to get his girlfriend killed 
in the process. He loses the prototype but not the notes, escapes, comes back to 
the States, takes a job here, and improves upon his grandfathers original 
concept. Have I missed anything so far?
No.
Five years ago he takes off with the five I-Bots for reasons that, curiously 
enough, are not mentioned in any of those files, and youve been busting your 
ass and everyone elses ever since trying to find them. That bring us pretty 
much up to date?
Yes.
So what makes you think Im going to have any better luck tracking him down on 
my own than youve had with all your money and personnel?
You dont have to track him down. I already know where he is.
Mind telling me how?
Annabelle pulled a single sheet of white paper from under the files and glanced 
at it. Last night another of my former employees, Samuel Preston
PTSI. I know the name.
Last night he conducted some sort of security test at his main facility. My 
people on the insideand remember, Janus, Ive got people everywheretell me 
that it took the freelance security team less than seven minutes to break into 
not only the compound, but Sams office, as well, and take complete control of 
everything. She dropped the paper onto the desk. Even a crack commando squad 
of seasoned professionals couldnt infiltrate the PTSI compound in under 
forty-five minutes, and thats if theyre using state-of-the-art equipment. 
According to my sources, the people hired to test security at PTSI carried no 
equipment at all. Nothing. Not even a screwdriver.
So you think its Robillard and the I-Bots?
Has to be. No human being could get in that quickly and remain undetected. 
Sams security is too good. I ought to know. The bastard lured two dozen of my 
best people away when he left the company.
You sound like a woman scorned. Despite himself, Janus couldnt hide the 
contemptuous amusement in his voice.
Annabelle either didnt see or didnt appreciate his humor. In the five years 
since Robillard stole my property and left WorldTech, there have been eight 
attempts to capture him and the I-Bots.
Why both? Why not just grab the androids?
First of all, theyre not exactly androids, but theyre not cyborgs, either. 
The I-Bots are a combination of both yet so much more. Secondly, I want 
Robillard alive. I suspect that hes developing a new prototype-if hes not 
built one already.
Ah, now we get to it, said Janus. A new prototype. Is that why Robillard left 
and took the I-Bots with him? Because he found out what you ultimately had in 
mind for his creations?
Annabelle smirked at him. Whats this? Twenty questions?
What did you really want the I-Bots for, Annabelle?
You tell me.
Janus didnt miss a beat. A private army.
Something flickered in her eyes; shock, maybe?
Go on.
Thats it, isnt it? Somehow he found out that the I-Bots were going to be 
programmed to be your personal spies, assassins, and all-around doers of deeds 
too dirty for you to soil your hands with.
I have to look out for my interests, dont I? And people like you arent all 
that easy to locate at a moments notice.
People like me. Im touched. Janus rubbed his eyes, groaned at the soreness in 
his body, then popped the lid off a bottle of pills and poured a glass of water 
from the pitcher on Annabelles desk. You mind?
Would it matter if I did?
As Janus took his pill, he studied Annabelles face. She had heavy-lidded, 
almost sad eyes, in a way, and the manner in which she was now sittinghead 
thrown back to stretch the muscles in her neck, ringlets of hair draped across 
one cheek to the corner of her mouth, thin trails of cigarette smoke weaving 
beyond her like incense before an altarsuddenly seemed so vulnerable. She 
grasped her cigarette holder like some torch singer clutching a microphone; she 
reminded Janus of those old black-and-white photos of Billie Holiday. He could 
easily imagine Annabelle letting go with a heartbreaking verse of some blues 
ballad.
She opened her eyes and caught him staring at her. What?
I was just wondering what Robillard did to hurt you.
Her eyes filled with ice. If youre implying
that the two of you did the silk-sheet samba? No. But Ive known you for a 
good many years, Annabelle, and I dont think Ive ever seen anything get to you 
like this. Its more than pride, more than the cost, more than your reputation.
She lit another cigarette. Her hands were shaking ever so slightly. And what 
concern is it of yours? Not that Im saying youre right.
Janus thought about his words very carefully before he spoke. I want out, 
Annabelle. From under all of it. Im getting too old, too tired, too banged-up, 
and Ive lost a little of my edge. We both know that. The reason Ive put such a 
high price tag on the last two assignments Ive taken from you is because Im 
trying to get together enough money to justdisappear. I want to go somewhere 
and try to find a way to make the rest of my life mean something. Im sick of 
the violence, the killingand even sicker that Im so damned good at it. I 
suspect that Ive got more years behind me than ahead, and Id like to leave 
behind something more than scars and dead bodies. That may sound trite to you, 
but its something thats been on my mind for quite a while now. As you can see 
from the way I shuffled in here and this bandage on my hand, things didnt go 
quite as planned last time. Nowno bullshit, Annabelle. No word games. Im 
getting bored with the way you and I circle each other like predators fighting 
for gnawing rights on carrion. Ive been as open and honest with you in the last 
minute as Ive ever been with anyone in my life. I will find Zac Robillard and 
your I-Bots for you. The price is double what you paid for last time, but I 
guarantee results. In return for that guarantee and my honesty, you have to be 
honest with me, then well never mention this conversation again. Tell me why 
you want him so desperately.
She did. No evasions, no threats, no preambles; Annabelle Donohoe looked Janus 
directly in the eyes and told him what Zac Robillard had cost her in terms of 
personal emotional loss, and why she was willing to pay any price to get him and 
the I-Bots back.
Janus had not been prepared for what she told him.
Hed never have guessed the truth in a million years.
It took a few moments for him to absorb her words.
I never knew, he said to her.
Besides you, only two other people know what Ive just told you. Swear to me 
that youll never
never. You have my wordand thats something I never give lightly.
Simmons is one of them, you know.
I figured, he said.
Please dont ask me who the other one is.
I wont.
They stared at one another, neither of them sure what to do or say next. Maybe 
something passed between them, something of understanding or even tenderness, 
but both had trained themselves over the years to never let that guard down for 
too long, and it took only a few moments before both of them regrouped and 
activated all the old defenses that kept them forever distanced from most of the 
rest of humanity.
So, said Annabelle, finally, youll take the assignment?
Yes.
She handed him the printout on the PTSI test. Robillard has yet to operate 
beyond a fifty-mile radius. Wherever he and the I-Bots have headquartered 
themselves, its within an hours drive of PTSI. All you have to do is ask Sam 
Preston how he got in touch with them. I doubt hell have an address or phone 
numberRobillard would never be that carelessbut he might have an E-mail 
address or InfoBahn Site Number. Get itI dont care how, short of killing him. 
Then contact me. We can decide what to do from there.
Fine. Janus rose from his chaira little more slowly than usualand started 
toward the doors.
Janus?
He stopped, turned around. Yeah?
I can trust you to keep our conversation confidential, cant I?
What conversation?
She smiled at him.
For a moment, Janus didnt recognize her.
 
Simmons met him out in the hallway. A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Janus.
Likewise, Simmons, replied Janus, shaking the huge mans hand. He liked 
Simmons, always hadthough he was damned if he could say why.
Simmons handed him a series of three thick brown envelopes. For you, sir. The 
first is the rest of your money from the last assignment, plus the first half of 
your requested fee for the current one. This next envelope contains all the 
necessary papers youll needas per your instructions. And this last contains 
your plane tickets, two maps, a card key, and a key to a Mercedes that will be 
waiting for you in the airport parking lot. The claim stub is in there, as 
well.
What about hardware?
Youll find a rather generous selection of weaponry in the trunk. If you 
require anything more than what has been provided, Ms. Donohoe has instructed me 
to give you this. He handed Janus a business card.
R.D. Chase, Importers.
Hes an arms dealer with whom madam does much business. WorldTech has an 
account with him. He will provide you with anything else you may need.
Janus laughed as he pocketed the card and envelopes. You realize, dont you, 
Simmons, that someday this will all be yours?
Ive no interest in running a corporation, sir.
Whos talking about a corporation? I was referring to the world.
Ah, yes, wellperhaps youre right there, sir. Then: I take it that you and 
Ms. Donohoe have worked out your differences?
Yes, we have.
Thats good to hear, sir. She is, at heart, a fine lady. Simmons meant it.
Im sure she is, Simmons.
I do hope that this assignment goes more smoothly than the last.
Is that a hint of a threat I hear lurking somewhere behind that polished 
British courtesy?
Whos to say, sir?
Indeed. I may have to call on you, personally, for some help later.
I was hoping, sir.
So that wasnt a masked threat I heard?
Merely an inquiry as to your need of my services, sir.
Janus tapped Simmonss shoulder with the envelopes. You scare me sometimes, 
Simmons.
Thank you, sir. May I escort you to the lobby?
Would it hurt your feelings if I said no?
I would be devastated beyond healing.
Cant have that, can we?
It would be unwise, sir.
That was a masked threat.
Yes, sir, it was.
35
Zac Robillard lay on his shabby little bed, waiting out the pain and pills, 
wondering which of them would win out in the end.
Not that he cared today.
Not after the dreams of last night.
Not after what hed had to do at the Scrapper Camp.
Bright lights flashed before his eyes whenever he dared open them, even a 
little, and each flash was a shard of pain that lanced through his retinas and 
tore through his brain.
He tried rolling onto his side, but any movement made his stomach lurch.
Of all the advances made in medical science since the beginning of the new 
millenniumsuccessful treatments (no one had the guts to call them outright 
cures) for AIDS, the new strains of tuberculosis, even the common colda cure 
for migraines still eluded the world.
Think about something, he willed himself.
Until either the pain or the pills won out, hed found over the years that the 
best way to fall asleep when in the grip of a migraine was to concentrate on 
something, anything.
He thought about Killaine, about what hed told her.
And suddenly he had it.
Something to think about.
The brain.
God, the wonders of it all. A three-pound bundle of wetware that in a normal 
human being packed a whopping twelve billion neurons, each capable of making up 
to fifty-thousand connections with other cells. One hundred trillion possible 
connections.
No wonder Grandpa had been so obsessed with it.
Ben Robillard had been smart. Instead of trying to map the human brain in order 
to duplicate its activities, hed chosen to approach it in a way few 
neuroscientists in his day had thought of: as an intricate machine, taking it 
apart piece by piece and testing each component. Using such a reductionist 
strategy, hed managed to identify over six dozen different types of 
neurotransmitters, chart the wiring scheme of all major nerve path-ways, and 
record the myriad electrical impulses of a single neuron.
Imagine studying China by holding a microphone over Peking, Ben Robillard had 
written in his notes. You couldnt learn Chinese, but you would easily pick up 
daily or seasonal variations in the noise level which would tell you something 
about the gross pattern activity of a large urban population. I think this could 
well fit in with this new chaos theory that is causing such fuss. If, indeed, 
this chaos theory reveals variations in the rhythms of vast collections of 
neurons, then is it such a wild leap of the imagination to apply that theory to 
simple brain activity? These unsuspected patterns, long hidden in the irregular 
squiggle of the brains electroencephalogram, are triggered by problem solving, 
memories, moods, and neurological conditions ranging from Parkinsons disease to 
classic schizophrenia. If one were to then apply chaos theory to this, it would 
be a simple matter to tell whether a subject is doing simple arithmetic or 
complex trigonometry from an analysis of his brain waves: Thus, what begins as a 
mad jumble of trajectories eventually forms a ghostly geometry.
Zac found himself smiling. He remembered the first time hed run an EEG signal 
from a robotic brain through a computer to transform it into a geometric image. 
Hed expected something bewildering and ugly.
What he got was a dazzling filigreed structure slowly revolving in 
three-dimensional space. It had looked like a tulip with multicolored edges, and 
with each rotation another petal unfolded.
And each petal, magnified, revealed itself to be composed of thousands of 
microscopic yet identical petals.
Fractals.
Thats when he realized that the true inner structure of the brains activity 
stemmed from the fact that the behavior of the system was not totally random; it 
vacillated erratically within a particular range or norm.
And so hed taken his grandfathers maverick concept of the mechanical brain to 
the next level and designed the I-Bots brains in fractal-based consciousness.
There.
The pain was ebbing slowly away.
The pills were winning out.
Better living through chemistry, he muttered softly to himself.
Then fell quickly asleep, hoping that Jean didnt return to him in his dreams 
this time.
 
Satisfied that Zac was deeply asleep, Killaine slowly rose from his bedside and 
made her way out into the hall, closing the bedroom door behind her.
Downstairs, she found Singer in the large main living area, examining a camera 
and tripod set up in the middle of the room.
Thats an HIR system, she said.
Never heard of it, signed Singer.
It stands for Holographic Image Replication. A little something Itazura 
whipped up in his spare time to amuse us with. Using that camera, you can record 
any image you want onto a compact video diskItzy tends to record old 
moviesthen filter it through a portable projector so its reproduced in three 
dimensions, fully. You can even add sound if you choose to.
Sounds fun.
It can be. Until you step out of the shower one night and find James Cagney 
trying to ram a grapefruit in your face. Itzy tends to play a lot of jokes with 
it. You should see the editing bay hes set up in his room. She stood next to 
Singer and looked at the camera.
I tolerate it by telling myself that itll come in handy some day. For what, I 
havent the slightest idea. But Itzy enjoys it. Thats the important thing.
You care very much for all of them, dont you?
Of course. Why wouldnt I? She was getting that feeling again of being too 
aware of the metal under her skin.
You dont care for me, do you?
I dont know you well enough to give you an honest answer, Singer, Icould we 
not talk about this now? I need to find the others. I dont like it when they 
all vanish on me at the same time. It usually means theyre up to something.
Singer pointed toward the metal door at the far end of an adjoining hall.
Killaine sighed.
The control room.
All of them are in there?
Yes. Does that worry you?
Im not sure. It could mean that She looked at Singer, shook her head, and 
started toward the control room.
Singer tapped her shoulder from behind.
What?
Can I come along?
Why?
Singer shrugged. I dont want to be alone just now.
Killaine thought about it for a moment. If she said yes, then Singer might 
interpret that as a gesture of trust orworsean offer of friendship. Despite 
all shed seen today and everything Zac had told her, she still felt a certain 
anxiety in Singers presence.
Still, Zac considered the Scrapper a friend, and trusted Singer, and she didnt 
want to chance offending Zac further by being rude or uncaring.
You can do whatever you want, she said flatly, then continued toward the 
control room.
Singer stood there, silent, then hung down his head and started back toward 
Zacs room, where he seated himself outside the door and waited.
For what, was anyones guess.
A while passed, then he heard the sounds of the I-Bots voices drifting up 
through the furnace vents.
When he realized what they were talking about, he decided to join them, invited 
or not.
36
After seeing Janus off, Simmons returned to Annabelles office.
Hes on his way, madam.
Good.
If I may say so, I think hell do splendidly.
I think so, too.
Do you still wish for me to follow him?
Yes. I dont want to take any chances. Pick two security men to accompany you. 
Hereshe handed him three airline ticketsIve booked you on the same flight. 
In coach, of course.
Very good, madam.
Keep a low profile, Simmons. A very low profile. Janus is no fool. He knows 
Ill have someone watching and hes the best Ive ever seen at being able to 
spot a tail.
Understood.
I want him under twenty-four-hour surveillance.
Of course. But at a distance.
Be careful who you pick to go along with you. Theyve got to be good, Simmons. 
And fastI want your team to be ready to jump in at half-a-seconds notice if 
theyre needed.
You neednt worry, madam.
Annabelle touched her locket. But I will, Simmons. I will.
He saw her gently fondle the gold chain. That was a thoughtless remark, madam. 
I know how much this means to you. I apologize.
No need to apologize. Just come through for me.
Count on it, madam.
37
As they waited for Killaine, Singer, and Zac to return from the Scrapper Camp, 
Itazura looked at Psy-4 and said, Care to run that by us again?
Psy-4, severely agitated and trying desperately not to show it, was pacing back 
and forth across the expanse of the control room. When I telepathed with the 
PTSI mainframe last night I activated an irreversible download and dump 
program.
Right, said Itazura. And this entity that you communicated with just now
Roy.
Roy. Sounds like someone who ought to have a couple friends named Buck and 
Cletus in a country and western band.
No jokes, Itzy, not now!
Ah, take a chill-pill and calm down.
Psy-4 whirled around and started toward him. Dont you presume to tell me how 
to behave, not after your little tirade down in the cellar earlier. Oh, Im so 
lost, Im so confused, whats the point of our existence? Do you have any idea 
how tiresome these little existential crises of yours have become?
Dont mock me, Psy-4.
Then dont sit there with that condescending smirk on your face or Ill wipe it 
off permanently!
Now Itazura was on his feet. Okay, tough guy, lets do it. You want to break 
open a can of whup-ass and wail on me, Im ready to boogie!
They came at each other.
Enough! shouted Radiant, starting toward them.
Stonewall beat her by two seconds, getting between them and grabbing each by 
their collar, then lifting them off the floor.
Their feet dangled in the air like a pair of marionettes.
If you two are finished with this nerve-tingling display of machismo, said 
Stonewall, I think theres a problem we were discussing.
Whats with you? said Itazura. Got a cross-stitch project youre impatient to 
get back to?
As a matter of fact, yes. It has puppy dogs in it. I like puppy dogs.
Oh.
Puppy dogs relax me. They make me happy. Right now, the two of you dont. Is 
any of this confusing so far? I could start again and talk slower.
Understood, said Psy-4.
Im cool, replied Itazura.
Stonewall set them down and pushed them away from each other.
Radiant walked over and smacked both of them on the shoulder. Whatevers going 
on is serious and we dont have time for this.
Psy-4 and Itazura glared at one another for a moment, then, like boxers at the 
sound of the round-ending bell, retreated to their respective corners.
Now, said Radiant to Psy-4, go on.
Roy knows that hes being drained and hes scared. We have to help him. I gave 
him my word.
Radiant put a hand on his shoulder. Hes little more than a child, isnt he? I 
could feel it when you were talking with him.
Yes.
From the far end of the room, Itazura said, So what is Roy, exactly?
A robotic fractal-based brain, replied Stonewall.
Everyone looked at him.
What else could he be? Samuel Preston has built an empire out of stealing and 
modifying Zacs ideas. They both started working on us before Preston was 
promoted and Zac inherited the project. It makes sense that Preston would 
attempt to develop a fractal-based brain of his own.
And install it as part of the mainframe? asked Radiant.
Each of our brains was first tested in WorldTechs computer system. Preston is 
only doing what Zacs already done.
Itazura came over and took a seat before his console, replaying the data 
recorded earlier. So why the download and dump program? Why build a bomb that 
cant be deactivated?
Because something went wrong, said Radiant. My guess is that when Roy was 
programmed and brought into sentience he was accidentally limited in 
growththats why his mental capacity is so limited, so childlike.
Stonewall nodded his head. And if that were the case, then the imprinting 
process would have imbued him with human emotions and feelings consistent with 
that of a more mature consciousness.
Yes! said Radiant. So theres no way Preston can harvest the braincan use 
Royfor anything other than collecting data so the same mistakes wont be made 
the next time. And Preston is nothing if not prideful. If anyone were to 
discover the mess hes made of his experiment
So hes destroying Roy in order to save face, whispered Psy-4.
Thats about the size of it, replied Itazura.
Psy-4 shook his head.
What is it? asked Radiant. Cmon, Psy-4, youre giving off so much anxiety 
Im starting to get a headache.
Itsits not right, he said.
Of course its not right, but this isnt the time for us to debate moral
No! Thats not what I mean. He paced a little more, fisting his hands, then 
turned and faced the others. When I was talking with Roy, he mentioned having a 
mother and father. Preston doesnt possess enough imagination to program 
something like Roy. Zac didnt program those sorts of memories into us.
Itazura shrugged. Maybe thats one of the modifications hes made.
No, I dont think so. I dont quite know how to describe it so youll 
understand
Then let me, said Radiant. All of Roys thought processes, the way he phrases 
things, his curiosity, the depth of his fear, his confusion, his need to be 
loved and acceptedall of these things dont fit the profile of our programming. 
I mean, sure, we all can feel and experience those things and countless more, 
but we also have the capability to separate ourselves from them if we need to, 
to achieve an emotional distance when it threatens to get in the way of carrying 
out an assignment. Roy cant do that.
Itazura looked at her, then Psy-4, then Radiant once again. Which means?
Radiant faced him. Which means that we may be getting into Frankenstein 
territory here.
Say what?
The imprint wasnt made from a robotic program, said Stonewall.
It took a moment for the full impact of those words to sink in.
But sink in, it did.
In all of its obscene, sick-making madness.
But someone had to say it, had to speak the truth.
Had to make it real.
So Psy-4 slowly, sadly nodded his head. It was made from the consciousness of a 
real child. He looked at the others. Were not dealing with an entity like 
ourselves. Sam Preston has stolen the mind of a child and trapped it in his 
computer system.
Psy-4, said Radiant. You dont think that
That what?
She almost couldnt bring herself to say it. You dont think hes got the 
actual brain of a child in there, do you?
Psy-4 visibly flinched. That would be too depraved, even for a worm like 
Preston.
But you cant discard the possibility, said Stonewall. You know as well as I 
that you can buy anything in this world. Even children.
I cant believe Preston would be capable of something like that, replied 
Psy-4. And right now its beside the point. We have to go back in and free Roy 
before its too late.
Itazura sighed. How are we supposed to know how long weve got before its too 
late?
Psy-4 crossed to one of the consoles. Replay the moment when Roys face came on 
the screens.
Itazura punched in a series of commands, and once again they found themselves 
looking at the blurry, digitized image of Roys face and the codes unfolding 
behind his empty eyes.
Stop it right there, said Psy-4.
Itazura did.
Enlarge it.
And they saw it.
 
Mark
123:48:57
H M S
 
Psy-4 groaned. One-hundred and twenty-three hours, forty-eight minutes, 
fifty-seven seconds.
From when? asked Itazura.
Oh, for heavens sake, Itzy, use your head! snapped Radiant. From the moment 
Psy-4 telepathed with the mainframe last night.
Which means, said Stonewall, that we have, as of right now, just over 
ninety-seven hours before the program finishes.
Psy-4 rubbed his eyes. We have to assume that it operates like any standard D 
and D program; first it gathers the information, sorts it, scans for viruses, 
then runs everything back through the source program in order to pick up any 
fragmented data.
Thats the final step, said Radiant. So we have to time it just right.
Psy-4 touched her hand. Exactly. If we can get in there and disconnect Roy 
before the D and D has made its final sweep, then theres a good chance that 
hell emerge with mostmaybe allof his consciousness intact.
But how do we determine the exact time it will make the final sweep? asked 
Itazura.
Zacs notes, replied Stonewall. All of our brains were imprinted with the 
same basic program, so we have to assume that Preston used the same one with 
Roy. We use Zacs notes to work up a virtual robotic brain on the computer, then 
run a simulated D and D based on the one Prestons system is running.
Psy-4 waved his hands. It would eat up too much time. There are seventy-five 
thousand two hundred and thirty-four individual steps to building just one 
brain, and wed have to virtually go through every stepthats besides then 
having to test it to see if everything functions as it should. We need to use an 
actual robotic brain to run the theoretical D and D.
Even then, said Radiant, youre looking at a minimum of ten hours to run the 
damned thingand thats if we conduct it at three times the actual speed. The 
way things are right now, none of us can afford to be down that long.
Itazura laughed. And youre forgetting that, even with a simulated D and D, you 
run the chance of data loss. Hey, dont look at me like thatat some point, like 
it or not, well have to try it in actuality to see if the estimates are 
correct.
Hes right, said Stonewall. A simulation can only tell us so much. Well have 
to do a limited D and D in order to determine with any precision the final 
window of opportunity. And Zac wouldnt allow any of us to subject ourselves to 
that.
So what do we do? asked Psy-4.
Why not ask Singer? said Killaine from the doorway.
Everyone turned toward her.
Youre not serious? asked Radiant.
Why not? He seems willing to do anything he can to help us. Lets ask him if 
hed be willing to participate in the experiment.
Itazura laughed softly. Theres a surpriseKillaine volunteering Singer for a 
possible suicide mission.
Im just being logical, she continued, ignoring Itazuras stare. We need an 
actual platinum-iridium brain, Singer has one. None of us can afford to 
power-down for the length of the test, Singer can. Were indispensable, and 
Singer She stopped just a moment too late, realizing what she was about to 
say.
So Singer is expendable, is that it? asked Itazura.
In terms of cold equations, yes, replied Killaine.
Shes right, said Psy-4. I hate to agree with her on a point like 
thatnothing personal, Killainebut Singers the only one of us who we can 
afford to lose.
Itazura was on his feet now. Are you listening to yourselves here, folks? 
Singers the only one of us? Us? Am I the only one who finds it interesting 
that weve started talking about him like hes one of the family, yet some of us 
continue to treat him like a leper?
I dont treat him like a leper, said Killaine.
No, no, thats trueyou just look at him the same way a human looks at an ape 
in the zoo.
Dont lecture me, Itzy.
Oh, noheaven forbid that anyone should go up to the great Killaine, our 
self-appointed moral conscience, and show her any flaws in her character.
Killaine sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. Youre really beginning to 
annoy me.
You know what it is, dont you? said Itazura. Its Singers primitiveness 
that you find repugnant. Hes what you know you look like beneath the beautiful 
exterior, so your volunteering him for this serves twofold purpose: The first is 
to help acquire the information we need in order to save Roy, but the second 
oneyour not-so-hidden agendais that by risking his life, he might go away 
forever, and if that happens, then you wont ever have to face again what is 
primitive and weak in yourself.
Stonewall nodded his head. Thats not bad.
Jungian psychobabble, hissed Killaine.
Focus, people, said Psy-4. The question is, will he do it if we ask?
Itazura pointed toward the open door.
Killaine looked over her shoulder, then stepped aside.
Singer stood there, silent as ever, his photoelectric eyes glowing.
Ask me what? he signed.
38
Excuse me, miss?
Yes, sir?
I was wondering, when you have a spare moment before the plane takes off, if 
you would be so kind as to check back in the coach section for some friends of 
mine? I wouldnt ask, but we were supposed to meet at the gate earlier and they 
hadnt arrived when the final boarding call was issued.
Id be glad to, sir.
Oh, thank you. You cant miss one of them, a rather tall, burly fellow with a 
delightful British accent, usually wears a bowler
Oh, yes, sir! I saw him get on a few minutes ago.
Wonderful! Were there two other gentlemen with him?
Yes, sir, there were.
Thank you very much, miss.
Glad to be of assistance.
Janus waited for the flight attendant to reach the end of the aisle, then 
unbuckled his safety belt and began to exit the plane.
Of course Annabelle would have him followed.
Of course shed have Simmons do it.
But having Simmons and the other two get on the same flightthat was cute, very 
cute. Almost inspired.
Still, if he were going to be followed by anyone, Janus supposed he preferred it 
to be Simmons.
Sir, the plane will be taking off in seven minutes! The flight attendant at 
the door sounded frantic.
I know, I know, ImIm sorry. I left my insulin kit in the mens room just 
inside Gate Six. I have to have it.
I understand, sir, but
Please? Itll only take me four minutes to get it and return.
The flight attendant stared at him for a moment, then nodded his head. May I 
see your ticket?
Janus handed it over.
Ill speak to the pilot. The attendant wrote something on Januss ticket, then 
handed it back. I can only guarantee you four minutes, sir.
Janus smiled. Thats all I need. Thank you very much.
He was back inside the gate in less than a minute, envelope in one hand, white 
cane unfolded, dark glasses on.
He made his way to one of the nearest ticket counters.
Security! Security! he cried out.
A hand was placed on his shoulder. May I help you, sir?
Janus turned around, saw that it was a security guard, but played his part to 
the hilt, touching the mans face and chest. Oh, thank heavens! AA manheoh, 
Im sorry
Its all right, sir, just calm down.
It was very unnerving, you know?
Of course, sir.
A man cornered me in the mens room just a few moments ago and gave me this. 
He offered the envelope. He told me that if I didnt get it into the hands of 
someone in authority within ten minutes, thenoh, how did he put itmany 
innocent lives will be lost. II dont deal well with that sort of thing, 
officer. Hehe grabbed me! His breath was horrid!
I understand, sir. If youll just follow me
Janus reached into his pants pocket and found the matchbook-sized device, turned 
it over, pressed the small button.
The sound of the small explosion would have been lost, had it not been for the 
PA system announcing yet another final boarding call.
Somewhere in the airport, a trash receptacle had just gone to meet its maker.
The security guard whirled around. Jeezus! Youyou wait here, sir.
Is it them, said Janus in his best hysterical voice. Is it the 
revolutionaries? Has the revolution began?
The security guard was gone, running toward the smoke and flames.
Janus checked his watch: Even with all the panic and confusion, the guard would 
have the letter into the right hands before the ten-minute deadline.
Then the real fun would start.
He made his way to the nearest exit, tossing the cane and dark glasses into a 
trash can.
He caught a glimpse of the plane hed been on only four minutes ago.
Sorry, Simmons. Im sure youll get out of it somehow.
He climbed into the first taxi outside and instructed the driver to take him to 
a semiprivate airfield fifty minutes away.
Where his chartered flight waited.
He almost laughed to himself, wishing he could see the expression on Simmonss 
face when the FBI came swarming onto the plane.
Well, at least Annabelle was keeping it interesting.
39
Rudy couldnt believe his luck; it was almost enough to make him believe in a 
god.
Almost.
He caught one of the robots alone and managed to do some serious damage to it 
with a piece of pipe, then he found what he thought was an empty gasoline can 
but there was about an ounce of gas in the bottom, so he used that to set the 
robot on fire and told it to run back to the camp.
On top of all that, the sewer grate hadnt been pulled back all the way; there 
was still about a foot, maybe a foot and a half of room between it and the face 
of the cement drain.
It was a tight squeeze, but Rudy managed to work himself through and now stood 
inside the sewer drain.
Next: a place to hide.
The robot would reach the Scrapper Camp, the others would help it as much as 
they could, and then one of them would come for DocScrap.
The only thing Rudy had to decide now was whether to wait and kill DocScrap here 
in the darkness of the sewer, or follow whatever robot was sent to fetch him.
If he killed DocScrap down here, hed stand a better chance of fighting off that 
red-haired bitch whod been with him earlier.
But if he followed whatever robot would be sent to fetch DocScrap, then he could 
discover the exact location of the dudes headquarters, and, man, wouldnt Gash 
just love that!
Rudy sloshed ahead several yards, found a relatively dry spot to hide, swallowed 
a couple of the painkillers the clinic had given to him, and decided hed just 
sit here for a minute and think about it.
He leaned his head back.
And I wont fall asleep.
No way.
No sleep.
Not me. Im too pumped to fall asleep. Im in too much pain to fall asleep. No 
pain here. I wont fall asleep, not me. Too sleepy to pain about the scrap and 
robot-pump.
Sharp as a bat.
Alert as a tack.
No problem here
40
Singer listened politely as Psy-4 explained their dilemma, holding back no 
detail (much to the others surprise).
Once finished, Psy-4 looked around the room to see if anyone wanted to add their 
own comments.
No one took him up on the silent offer.
So? he said to Singer. Will you do it?
No.
Psy-4 looked at Singer, then everyone else, then Singer again. No?
No.
Look, Singer, Im sorry if anything Killaine said offended you, but
This has nothing to do with her. Im saying no because it isnt necessary for 
you to run a virtual D and D.
How else can we determine how long it will be before Prestons computer
Singer waved his hands, silencing Psy-4, then crossed over to one of the 
computers, sat down, typed in a few commands, and brought a 3D image of a normal 
human brain up onto the monitor.
Then he pulled up a 3D image of a standard robotic brain.
Watch, he signed.
He superimposed the image of the mechanical brain onto that of the normal human 
brain.
A few more quick commands to the computer, and a schematic of the various 
sections of the cerebrum appeared.
He magnified the picture so the I-Bots could see where the motor area of the 
human brain corresponded with that of the robotic brain.
Then he magnified it to show, more specifically, where the central sulcusor the 
Fissure of Rolandoof the human brain found its match in the robots brain.
He then did the same for the lateral sulcus, or Fissure of Sylvius.
Whats he doing? whispered Itazura to Stonewall.
Showing us how to determine which part of the robotic brain serves as the 
dividing line between lobes.
Why?
Look at the formulae hes typing in. Theyre all fractal-based, dont you see?
If I yawn, its only in anticipation.
Stonewall smiled slightly. Hes using the equations to map the levels of the 
nervous system that react to longitudinal unifications of function, then 
cross-referencing them with the coordinates of the reticular activating system.
And when, exactly, does Little Rabbit Foo-Foo enter the picture?
When he isolates the area that we feed the information into.
Ill bet you believe in Santa, too, dont you?
Got it, signed Singer.
Got what? asked Itazura. Then: Pardon the grammar.
The location of the robotic equivalent of the midbrain.
Do you see the confused look on my face? What does that tell you?
Do you have an EEG cart? asked Singer.
Psy-4 nodded, then went to the storage area to get the necessary equipment.
Slowly, Itazura managed to swallow back his confusion enough to pay attention.
Slowly, it began to make sense to him.
Reaction time, he whispered to Stonewall. We hook one of us up to the EEG, 
ask a series of questions, perform a series of simple tasks, measure the 
reaction time
Stonewall smiled. then apply that reaction time to the base robotic 
programming of one brain
translate the results into a fractal-based equation
and that will tell us how long it will take for the D and D to run a compare 
and erase through one lobe when entering through the two fissures.
The rest is simple multiplication, said Itazura, awed.
Slowly, turning toward Killaine, he began to smile. Whatta you think of our 
primitive friend now?
I never said he was primitive.
No, said Radiant, you only felt that way.
Mind your own business.
And they got down to the business of figuring out how much time theyand Royhad 
left.
41
Yes? said Annabelle.
Hello, madam.
Simmons?
Im afraid so, madam.
What happened?
It is my sad duty to inform you that I lost track of your package shortly 
before the plane was supposed to take off.
How did that happen?
I was taken into custody by the FBI. I am calling you from their local 
offices.
Annabelle bit her lower lip. Why were you
It appears that someone gave them a letter claiming that I was one Sean Patrick 
Gallagher-OFlynn, mad-bomber soldier for the IRA.
Youd think your accent would be enough to clear you of suspicion.
My feelings precisely, madam, but as I am sitting here in leg restraints, I 
daresay the FBI requires a bit more evidence.
Let me make a call, Simmons.
I was hoping you would say that, madam.
Hes a sharp one, isnt he, Simmons?
Like a scythe, madam.
Dont worry, Simmons, youll be out and on your way within the hour.
That is a great relief, madam. Many of the FBI agents Ive thus far met could 
use a few dozen lessons in common courtesy.
Would you like to beat the stuffing out of a couple of them, Simmons?
Very much, madam.
Then Ill need to make two calls.
Patience is its own reward, madam.
Hang loose, Simmons.
Not easy to do when in handcuffs, madam.
Dont I know it.
Click.
42
The sun was just beginning to slink its way past the horizon when Januss 
chartered plane landed.
He paid the pilot, gathered up his bags, then found a cab that took him to the 
airport where his first plane was supposed to be landing nowexcept, of course, 
that the first plane hadnt even taken off yet and probably wouldnt for several 
hours more.
He climbed out of the cab and sprinted over to the section of the parking lot 
where his car awaited him. He had the ticket stub ready for the lot attendant, 
who quickly and politely took him to the silver Mercedes.
Janus stared at the car with contempt.
Shitnot exactly inconspicuous, this car.
Hed have to trade it for something more conservative, more trailer-park chic.
He waited for the attendant to be on his way, then opened the trunk and pulled 
back the tarpaulin to reveal the small arsenal Annabelle and Simmons had 
provided for him.
Ooooh, Simmons, he muttered under his breath. Very impressive.
The only things missing were disposable rocket launchersone-shot bazookas, as 
Janus sometimes called them.
Those he found in the hollowed area where a spare tire should have been.
He had enough hardware here to take over a small third-world country 
single-handedly, if he got the urge.
He checked the time.
Hed worry about switching cars later.
Right now, he had an appointment to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep, he thought, grinning to himself.
43
Stonewall finished his final calculations, double checked the results, then 
looked up at the others. Three times through, and theres less than a fifty 
second deviation in the numbers.
Thats a good thing, right? asked Itazura.
Very, replied Psy-4. It means that, give or take fifty seconds, weve got 
eighty-four hours until Prestons system begins the final stages of the D and 
D.
Stonewall studied the readouts again. Right now its 6:47 P.M. on Thursday. The 
final stage of the D and D will last somewhere between one hour and 
one-hour-thirty-six minutes and will commence at 6:45 A.M. Sunday.
Psy-4 rubbed his eyes. Which means we not only have to be inside the PTSI 
compound before seven, we have to be in the same room as Roy. He slowly turned 
his head, glancing at everyone else. The target time for probable maximum 
capacity is 7:12 A.M., right, Stonewall?
Give or take a minute. After 7:10 but before 7:15 is the best window of 
opportunity I can come up with. According to my figures, if we can disconnect 
Roy from Prestons system and hook him up to a portable container within the 
given time frame, he stands to retain at least eighty-three percent of his 
original mental capacity, maybe even all of it. Any later than 7:15, and we can 
lop twenty percent off his IQ for each minute.
So at 7:20 weve got ourselves a vegetable salad, is that it?
Stonewall glared at Itazura. Thats a bit harsher than I would have put it, 
butyes, basically.
Just checking.
For several moments, no one said anything.
The weight of it seemed too great even for their shoulders.
Finally, Radiant cleared her throat and said, very, very softly: Which of us 
will tell Zac?
No! snapped Killaine. None of usll be telling him. No arguments. The mans 
got enough worries crushing his spirit right now and Ill be damned if any of us 
will add to his burdens.
Psy-4 nodded. I hate duplicity as much as anyone, but Killaines right. Zacs 
been wrung out for a while now. This would just give him something more to tie 
himself up in knots over. Maybe in a day or two, when things have been worked 
out in detail, maybe then well tell him. Until that decision is made, we keep 
it to ourselves, agreed?
Everyone did.
Fine, said Psy-4. Then we go about our daily routines as much as possible. 
He looked at Radiant. Any jobs waiting?
Construction workers, delivery truck driver, dishwasher, the usual.
No security assignments?
Radiant huffed. Dont you think I would have said something?
Psy-4 held up his hands in surrender. Okay, okay, youre right, I wasnt
He noticed Stonewall then.
Across the room.
By the window.
Staring out at the rain with the saddest expression Psy-4 had ever seen on his 
face.
Stoner? Stoner, what is it?
Looking at a butterfly, he replied.
And, indeed, there was a butterfly perched on the ledge, under a pipe, protected 
from the pouring rain.
Yeah? said Itazura. I mean, sure, its no puppy dog but its nice. Dont 
think itd make a good pet, though.
No, said Stonewall, who either didnt notice or didnt care about his friends 
jest. I was thinking about what Edward N. Lorenz said about butterflies.
Lorenz? asked Itazura.
He was a mathematician who eventually went into the field of meteorology. He 
opened up the field of chaos math. He applied certain convection equations to 
the short-term prediction of weather and watched those equations disintegrate 
into insanity. He asked, When a butterfly flaps its wings in Brazil, does it 
set off tornadoes in Texas? His answer, of course, was yes, because that 
seemingly harmless movement creates a small but potent change in atmospheric 
pressure that interacts with other minute changes, and those combine with still 
other unpredictable variables that come down through the exo-, iono-, and 
stratosphere to mingle with the cumulative butterfly effects in the 
troposphere, and before you know itwham!youve got thirty people dead in a 
Kansas trailer park. Think about it. He pressed a finger against the window. 
This little fellow flutters his wings, and chaos could come crashing down to 
reduce our world to smithereens.
Stonewall was not known to his friends as a talkerhe only spoke when he 
considered it necessaryand when he did speak it was rarely for very long and 
never without a serious purpose. Now his words came out in a rapid, deadly 
cadencea sure sign that he was working out a serious problem.
Imagine, he said, that Lorenzs butterfly is the embodiment of everything 
that causes us to ignore or add to the suffering of others, and that the 
flapping of its wings is the force of that apathy spilling outward. In less than 
a second it combines with the myriad emotions already expelled into the 
airanger, lust, despair, whateveruntil all of them become a single entity. 
Multiply that by however many times a day a person turns away from anothers 
suffering, then multiply that by the number of people in this world, then 
multiply that figure by the number of seconds in a day, week, year, or decade, 
and pretty soon youve got one hell of a charge building up. A point of maximum 
tension has to be reached, and then the combined forces will rupture outward, 
destroying whomever happens to be in its path.
Psy-4 looked at the others, then back to Stonewall. Im afraid I dont see what 
this has to do with
It has everything to do with it, dont you see? Stonewalls voice broke on the 
last three words and for a moment he looked as if he might begin to weep, but he 
pulled in a deep breath, turned away from the window, and walked to the center 
of the room.
We were created, not born, but were not robots. Were something more. At that 
moment of creation, Zac gave us a set of moral guidelines in our programming, 
yet we still defer to our logical impulses. Those have no place here right now. 
For all our lives, I think most of us have been avoidingif not outright 
denyingour emotional impulses. Maybe some of that stems from dealing with so 
many shades of gray, but that doesnt apply here. This is as black and white as 
it gets, folks. There is a child out there in pain, and hes afraid, and he has 
no one else to turn to for help. He faced Psy-4. We dont need you putting 
yourself on the rack about triggering the D and D; there was no way you could 
have known.
No snowflake in an avalanche ever feels responsible, whispered Psy-4.
Dont quote S. J. Lec to me. You have a tendency to worry your wounds, my 
friend, and we dont need that in our leaderand you are our leader, and always 
will be. He turned to face Radiant. You, my dear sister, have to set your 
vanity aside until we figure out what were going to do.
But I
Youve always been somewhat self-absorbed and you know it as well as anyone in 
this room. You and I have to plan how were going to get back into PTSI because 
we cannot chance breaking in the same way as before. I need all your 
concentration for that.
Whats so difficult about that?
The D and D program has been running for well over seventeen hours. We have to 
assume that Prestonor someone at PTSIis aware of whats happening, and that 
theyre taking steps to rectify the problem.
Itazura shook his head. Youre assuming that Preston has enough sense to
Do you remember what Zac told us? asked Stonewall. Under no circumstances do 
we ever, ever underestimate an opponent. I see no reason why we should operate 
under any other assumption. He looked at Killaine. Weve had more than enough 
discussions about your temper in the past and Im not going to waste any more 
time by reminding you of those discussions now, but take them to heart. You have 
to learn to reconcile your ideal of your existence with the reality of it. Face 
it, youre not wholly robotic, but youre not wholly human, either, and never 
will be. We are, all of us, like it or not, the next step of forced 
human/mechanized evolution. Were a new race, and until there are others like 
us, all we have is each other. I cant understand why you, of all of us, have 
such contempt for Singeryou, who go off the deep end every time you see an 
injustice. Tell me, Killaine, what justice has there been for him? He pointed 
to Singer. Hes already been an immeasurable help to us, and what thanks does 
he get for it? Your scorn? He touched Killaines cheek. Your prejudice will 
only get in the way. I dont expect you to overcome it in the next sixty 
seconds, but you must store it elsewhere until Roy is safe.
Then, at last, he faced Itazura. And you, with your Whats the point? What 
does it all mean? Do you think youre asking yourself questions that are unique 
to this world? Every person on the face of the Earth has grappled with those 
questions, but for once, you have something like an answer within your grasp.
And that would be?
Stonewall pointed toward the butterfly at the window. As of this moment, our 
purpose, our meaning, is to still the fluttering of the butterflys wings for 
one child. If you cant find peace within yourself armed with that knowledge, 
then Im afraid theres no peace to be found.
Itazura lowered his head. Do you think it will be enough?
It has to be. For then we will have made a difference in a way more profound 
than any governments, any armies, any politicians or poets ever have; we will 
have saved a life from suffering, we will have given hope to one whos never 
known what hope is, and we will always know it, regardless of what happens 
later. Even in the bleakest, darkest of nights, that knowledge will be our 
anchor: that once, not so very long ago, we did a great thing for someone else 
without any thought of our own reward, that we refused to look away while 
anothers life was swallowed by darkness, that we stood as one and refused to 
allow a child to be sent not-so-gently into that good night.
Stonewall held out his hand. Are we together on this?
Itazura put his hand on top of Stonewalls. Im with you all the way, Big Guy.
Radiant put her hand on Itazuras. Me, too.
Psy-4 joined them. Thanks, Stoner.
Finally, Killaine put her hand on top of Psy-4s. All for one and one for all, 
eh?
Stonewall grinned, then looked at Itazura, who understood his meaning.
All of themincluding Killainelooked at Singer.
Well? said Itazura.
Me? Really?
Wouldnt be a proper trip to see the Wizard without the Tin Man.
Slowly, with great dignity, Singer walked over and gently placed his hand atop 
Killaines.
To the stillness of butterfly wings, said Stonewall.
To the stillness of butterfly wings, repeated the others.
Psy-4 nodded his head. Then we are decided.
44
Prestons insides felt on fire as he made his way back to his office.
The fire wasnt just because of the newest wave of painthough that was a large 
part of it.
No, some of the fire was his anger with McCarrick. Damn, he should have had the 
man snuffed months ago.
A Nobel-prize winner, and the man hadnt proposed one workable solution to the 
problem with Roy.
As a last resort, Mr. Prestonsince you have offhandedly discarded all my 
suggestionsI propose that we ready another robotic brain and program the system 
to deposit all of the information from Roy into it rather than have it absorbed 
into the mainframe. I realize that since time is short there would not be 
sufficient time to program the brain itselfwed have the equivalent of the 
worlds largest disorganized filing cabinetbut at least the information would 
be saved.
And what about Roys personality? asked Preston.
That, Im afraid, wed have to deem expendable.
Thats unacceptable, Professor.
McCarrick had glowered at him. Then our only other option is to disconnect Roy 
during the final stage of the program when the computer is running the data 
comparison, and I find that unacceptable, sir. There are too many variables, too 
many things that could go wrong. If not timed precisely, disconnection could 
destroy all the informationas well as his precious personality.
Arrogant pissant!
Preston closed his office door behind him, made his way over to his desk, and 
sat in the plush leather chair.
He probably shouldnt have needled McCarrick at the end, but hed been angry, 
anxious, and in pain.
He had stopped at the lab door and asked, Hows your daughter doing these 
days?
McCarrick turned three shades of red. His voice was barely a croak when he said, 
Shes doing a lot better. She wanted me to thank you for thethe new 
computerized chair.
Such broken contempt in those words.
Any time, Preston had said, not meaning it and knowing that McCarrick knew he 
didnt mean it.
Preston winced. The pain was waning somewhat, but it was only the second wave.
They came in threes, always, and the third was always the worst.
He pulled in a deep breath, held it, released it slowly.
Repeated the process.
Repeated it again.
It was as he was exhaling for the third time that he noticed the curtains had 
been closed and the office was cloaked in shadow. He rarely left his lights off
He turned on his desk lamp.
The lights position had been changed; it shone not on the surface of his desk 
but out toward the couch, spotlighting the bodies of his two private security 
guards.
Both were quite dead, each with a small, bloody hole in their temples.
He imagined the exit holes were much bigger, but whoever had done this had taken 
care to arrange the bodies so that Preston saw them only in the less gory 
profile.
He immediately reached over and hit the alarm button.
Nothing.
Sorry about Laurel and Hardy, said a voice from the darkness, but they 
werent exactly the most hospitable pair when they found me in here.
Janus stepped into the circle of light. Hello, Sam.
Janus.
Been a while.
Preston nodded toward the guards. Was that really necessary?
Janus shrugged. I suppose not. I just wanted to have a little something handy 
to show you how serious I am. Originally I was going to tie you up and use a 
couple of toys on you, but then I found these.
He held up a clear plastic bag filled with Prestons prescriptions.
Preston yanked open his lower desk drawer.
Empty.
How did you manage to pick the lock?
Oh, come on, Sammy-Boy! I knew how to pick a desk lock by the time I was five.
I suppose it was a stupid question.
Very stupid.
All you had to do was call, Janus. Ive been trying to get in touch with you 
for
The third wave began.
Preston doubled over in his chair, clutching at his mid-section, eyes tearing, a 
small trickle of blood exiting his nose. Oh, godplease, JanusI n-n-need mymy 
medicine.
Janus came over and sat on the edge of the desk, turning the lamp around so the 
light shone into Prestons face. You dont look so good.
Please!
Janus held out two painkillers.
Preston, shaking uncontrollably, reached for them.
Janus pulled his hand away before Preston could grab his medicine. Not so fast, 
Sammy-Boy. I need some information.
Preston nearly fell out of his chair the agony was so intense. He tried to form 
words but there was nothing for him now but the pain, the pain, the wrenching, 
draining, fiery pain.
Janus crossed to the wet bar and poured a glass of water, then returned to the 
desk and helped Preston regain his balance.
Here you go, said Janus. He put the two pills into Prestons mouth, then held 
the glass for him as Preston drank everything down.
Sitting back on the edge of the desk, Janus crossed his arms and said, How 
advanced is it?
Enough thatno surgery or treatments would help.
For a moment Janus looked as if he were genuinely sorry to hear this.
But just for a moment.
Okay, Sammy-Boy, Ive shown you that Im being reasonable here. Now its your 
turn.
Could youcould you just give me a minute or two?
Janus waited.
One minute.
Two.
Three.
Never speaking, never moving.
Preston couldnt even hear his breathing.
Midway through minute four Janus leaned over and whispered, Feeling a little 
better?
Yes. Thank you.
No problem.
Then he grabbed Prestons tie, yanked him to his feet, and dragged him across 
the room, kicking open the door of Prestons private restroom.
I do some of my best work in toilets, snapped Janus, swinging Preston around 
and throwing him across the slick tile floor.
Preston slammed against the wall headfirst.
Janus closed the restroom door and turned on the bright overhead lights. So now 
that the nicey-nice parts out of the way, he said, kicking up the toilet lid, 
I believe we have some things to discuss.
Preston managed to wriggle into a sitting position, then groaned.
Zac Robillard, said Janus.
What about him?
He was here last night.
Preston laughed humorlessly. Is there anything Annabelle doesnt know?
That I wear boxers instead of briefs. Answer my question.
You didnt ask one.
Janus crossed to Preston and kicked him squarely in the groin.
Preston howled in anguish and doubled over.
Dont get nitpicky with me, Sammy-Boy. Was Robillard here last night?
yes
And he had a five-member team with him?
yes
Youve already figured out who those five are, havent you?
Preston nodded. The I-Bots.
Right.
Janus crossed back to the toilet, pulled a bottle of pills from the plastic bag 
and popped the lid on the container.
My, mymorphine tabs. These arent easy to come by, even for someone in your 
position of power.
Janus tipped the container, dropping four of the tablets into the toilet.
NO! screamed Preston, trying to get to his feet and failing miserably. No, 
Janus, please, it cost me aa lot of money to get my hands on those and it took 
forever to track down a supplier.
Pity.
He dumped two more into the toilet, then flushed it.
Only twelve left, Sammy-Boy.
God Almighty, Janus, just tell me what you want to know!
How did you get in touch with Robillard?
A phone number.
And you of course have this most important number written down somewhere?
He began to tip the container again.
YES! Yes, its in my private file on my computer.
You wouldnt be trying to bluff me, would you, Sammy-Boy? Another pill dangled 
on the edge of the container.
No, cried Preston, his eyes wide with panic. No, I swear it. II knew that 
Robillard was somewhere in the cityan informant told meand I knew hed need 
money, so it was just a matter of figuring outfiguring out He collapsed once 
again, still conscious but in pain.
It was just a matter of determining how hed be hiring himself out, is that 
it?
Preston nodded.
And?
Sesecsecurity work. It was easy to find out which security company had added 
a listing in the last ninety days.
Give me a name.
Invasion Prevention Systems, Inc.
Good lad. Janus pushed the pill back into the bottle and replaced the lid, 
then crossed over and helped Preston to his feet. Come on, lets get you into 
that comfy chair of yours.
Once back at the desk, Janus powered up Prestons computer. Bring up the file.
Preston did so.
Janus read the information, memorizing the phone number.
I assume, croaked Preston, that youre working for Annabelle?
You said it, I didnt.
Mind a little advice?
Janus grinned. Usually, yes, but since you and I go back a little, Ill make an 
exception.
Dont waste your time trying to trace this number. I had people on it for over 
a week before Zac showed up here and they came up with squat.
Not the best way to drum up business.
Preston squeezed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, felt the 
blood, and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. This number connects you 
to the first in a series of voice-mail programs. Somehow Zac and the I-Bots have 
managed to tap their way into the local phone system in such a way that the path 
of the call changes every time the number is dialed. I have no idea how they did 
it.
So how does it workhiring them, I mean?
You call and leave a message. Tell them where and when youll meet them for a 
preliminary powwow and they show up.
And thats it?
Thats it.
Janus considered all this for a moment.
Okay, Sammy-Boy, since Ive made such a mess here in your office, Im going to 
give you the benefit of a doubt and believe what youre telling me. He threw a 
PTSI card key onto the desk. But keep in mind that I can get more of those if I 
need them. If youre screwing me on this, Ill come back here and make the pain 
of your cancer look like a foot massage by comparison. You clear on that?
Very.
Janus tossed the plastic bag of medicine onto the desk.
Preston grabbed his wrist. Janus, listen to me for a minute, all right?
One minute.
Work for me. Ill pay three times what Annabelles paying you. Track down Zac 
and the I-Bots and bring them here to me. Hell, Ill settle for Zac by himself.
Ive never been one for pushing my luck, Sammy-Boy. Playing both sides against 
the middle tends to get you crushed. Besides, I may not be the most moral person 
ever to walk this planet, but I pride myself on professional integrity. Sorry; 
Annabelle hired me, she paid first, my services are hers.
Then Ill work with the two of you! Ill call Annabelle and hammer out an 
agreement. Okay?
Not up to me.
Fine. Ill call her right now. Preston reached for the phone.
Janus clamped an iron grip around his wrist. Huh-uh, not yet. Tell me why you 
so desperately need Zac.
Because he can save my life.
Janus only stared as Preston explained what he had in mind.
The two men then stared at one another for a moment.
What do you say, Janus? You could stand to make a lot of money from this.
Like I said, its not up to me. Janus stood, pulling a syringe from his 
pocket.
Preston blanched. What the hell is
Just a little something to make you sleep for a bit, replied Janus, pushing 
Prestons head to the side and sinking the needle into his neck. Not that I 
dont trust you, Sammy-Boy, but I didnt survive this long by playing longshots. 
I need to make sure theres sufficient time for my dramatic getaway.
A pleasant numbness began to envelope Preston. But you disconnected the alarm
Janus removed the needle and tossed the syringe into Prestons wastebasket. I 
disconnected one of your alarms. He leaned close, whispering into Prestons 
ear. Did you think I wouldnt know youd have at least three alarms in here? It 
just made sense that youd go for the one nearest you. He reached up and gently 
closed Prestons eyes. Im sorry youre so sick, Sammy-Boy. Pleasant dreams.
But Preston was already unconscious.
Janus patted him on the head like a parent would a sleeping child, then turned 
off the desk lamp, plunging the office back into darkness.
45
Zac Robillard awoke from a blessedly dreamless sleep feeling a tad hungover, but 
the headache was gone, gone, gone, and for that he was thankful.
He sat up on the bed and flung his feet over the side, letting the coldness of 
the floor enter his body.
He stared down at his naked feet.
Whod taken off his shoes and socks?
Probably Killaine, he thought.
Hopefully, she didnt get too good a whiff when she removed the socks.
He rubbed his eyes, stood up, and took a deep breath, getting a noseful of 
heaven.
Someone was cooking up something tasty in the kitchen.
He made his way downstairs.
The I-Bots were busy setting the table for breakfast/lunch/ dinnerhe wasnt 
sure which until he checked his watch.
Seven-fifteen P.M.
Wow.
What smells so good? he asked as came into the dining area.
Chicken Korma, said Itazura.
Zac looked at the I-Bots; all five of them were busy with the table.
Whos cooking?
Itazura smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and pointed into the kitchen 
behind Zac, who turned to see a sight to end all sights.
Singer, adorned in a floral-patterned apron, slaving over a hot stove.
He even had a splash of flour on his face.
Hope youre hungry, he signed to Zac.
I never knew you could cook.
You never asked.
Youve got me there.
Radiant breezed by with a pitcher of iced tea, stopping only long enough to 
plant a short, sweet kiss on Zacs cheek. Nice to see youre feeling better.
Then she was gone.
Itazura pulled out the chair at the head of the table and gestured for Zac to 
take a seat. Weve got Oysters Rockefeller for the appetizer, Salad Nioise, 
and, for dessert, a sumptuous and sinfully fattening Chocolate Gateau.
I can almost hear my arteries hardening.
Your seat, sir.
Zac sat down, silently thinking that all of them seemed quite cheerful.
Maybe a little too cheerful.
Put the paranoia in park for tonight, he scolded himself. Enjoy this.
Nothing like a scene of domestic harmony, is there? asked Itazura.
If you say so.
Itazuras expression froze.
Then Zac winked at him.
Dont do that to me! said Itazura. For a minute there I was afraid you were 
in mortal danger of relaxing. He headed back to the kitchen, looking for the 
salt and pepper.
Looks like its going to be a nice evening, Zac called after him.
It will be.
Zac poured himself a glass of iced tea and looked into the kitchen.
Saw Killaine helping Singer.
Not only helping him, but talking to him.
Even smiling.
And he knew something was up, but decided not to spoil things by pressing them 
for details.
They were a fine, loyal group.
They would tell him eventually.
Hey, shouted Itazura from the pantry, whose butt do you have to kiss to get a 
little service around here?
Put a sock in it, said Radiant.
Wouldnt that hurt?
At the table, Zac allowed himself a grin.
It was nice to have a real family.
46
Nice of you to have me followed.
Hello, Janus. Annabelle admired her new nail polish, the exact color of 
just-spilled blood. That was a damned rotten stunt you pulled at the airport.
You had Simmons and two of your goons follow me, Annabelle. I took it a bit 
personally. I mean, after all, you and I seemed to have this trust thing going 
for us and you had to go and
Do you know how many favors I had to call in to get him out of this mess? You 
owe me for this one, Janus.
You shouldnt have had me followed.
I have to
protect your interests, yeah, yeah, yeah. When can I expect company?
Bomb threats arent easy to dismiss, even for me with all my connections. Itll 
be sometime early tomorrow morning before Simmons and the others are released.
Hows he taking it?
The humor eludes him, but I imagine hell offer you a tip of the hat for your 
ingenuity and foresight.
What a guy.
Annabelle sighed. Have you contacted Preston?
Yes, we had a nice long chat.
And?
Did you know hes dying?
Silence.
Annabelle?
no, I didnt Her throat tightened so that her reply was barely a whisper.
Cancer. Too advanced for treatment.
Damn.
A pause, then: Are you okay?
What does it matter? She wrenched her mind back to business. Did you find out 
where Robillard is?
Yes and no. He explained to her about the phone lines and the impossibility of 
a trace.
So what are you going to do? she asked.
Have you got a pen and paper handy?
She laughed. I havent used pen and paper in years.
Then power up your computer and get ready to do some typing. Ive got quite a 
list of things I need by tomorrow morning.
Weaponry?
No, youve done a bang-up job in the arsenal department. Im going to try 
something I havent attempted in a long time.
Annabelle pulled out her keyboard. Damn, you actually sound excited.
That surprises you?
Yes.
Well, then, maybe life still holds a few thrills for us yet. He rattled off 
everything he would need, then asked her to repeat them back to him.
Can you have everything for me by tomorrow?
Yes. How will I get them to you?
Give everything to Simmons when you put him on the corporate jet. Ill be 
waiting for him at the airport.
I thought you didnt like being followed.
I dont, but since youve sent Simmons and a set of hired guns, I might as well 
use them.
I dont know if Simmons will like taking orders from you.
Simmons will do whatever you instruct him to do, including taking orders from 
me. Are we clear on this?
Crystal.
Fine. One more thingyoure not going to be hearing from me for a couple of 
days, maybe several. The next time I contact you will be when Im ready to make 
the endgame. So we have to get back to that trust thing.
Silence.
Well?
All right, Janus, we do it your way.
Wise decision. Oh, by the way, Prestons probably going to contact you sometime 
in the next twenty-four hours.
Why?
He wants to propose a temporary partnership.
Annabelle laughed bitterly at the phrase. Yes. Prestons very skilled at 
those.
I could have hurt him very badly, but I didnt.
How charitable of you.
I think you should listen to what he has to say.
I dont recall having asked for your opinion.
No, but youve got it, anyway. Gratis.
Youre so noble.
I get a lot of complaints about that.
Janus?
Yes?
Dont abuse my trust.
I wont.
Is that Janus the Professional talking, or Janus my trusting compadr?
Hard to say, Annabelle. Lets play it by ear.
Playing it by ear makes me very nervous.
Youll get over it.
Click.
Annabelle set her phone carefully in its cradle, then rested her head in her 
hands.
She would not cry.
She promised herself that.
And thats when the first tear hit the desktop.
47
The Scrapper Camp was located in the center of a maze of alleys that marked the 
eastern boundary of Cemetery Ridge. There were four entrances into the maze, 
which also served as the way outproviding one knew ones way well enough.
Aside from these four entrances/exits, the only other way out of the maze was 
underground.
Past the cement tunnel.
Into the sewers.
At 8:15 P.M., as the Scrappers were readying to move camp, Gash and the rest of 
the Silver Metal Stompers were blocking the four exits with large trucks they 
had stolen thirty minutes previously.
Not that any of them expected that the trucks would hold back a surging mass of 
robots, but it damn sure would slow them down, and thats all they wanted.
Once the trucks were in place, Gash flipped open his cell phone. Everything in 
place?
All the exits are blocked off.
Any sign of that little shit Rudy?
None.
Spread the wordif he shows, dont touch him. I want him for myself.
Right.
Gash checked his arsenal; two buzzblades, a fully charged electron gun, a 
handheld ShellBlaster, a bolt-shearer, three grenades, and a small one-burst 
flamethrower.
And, of course, his cherished samurai sword, nestled safely in its hinged sheath 
hanging from his back.
With all the death Gash carried, there were other Stompers who carried even 
more. A lot of firepowerand their targets couldnt fight back. It was gonna be 
total carnage. Life was good.
Time to cause some serious Wreckage.
He looked at the other Stompers who were with him and smiled.
Then spoke into his cell phone.
Party time.
And the Stompers began moving in.
 
The first explosion took the Scrappers by surprise.
The second one finished off four of them.
By the time one of the Stompers had fired the third Shell-Blaster into the 
middle of the camp, the Scrappers were on their feet and moving.
The Stompers fell on them from all four directions, a sea of destruction and 
shadows and howling violence.
And the Scrappers, bound by their programming, could not fight back.
So they did the only thing they could do under the circumstances.
Began to run.
Machine-gun fire erupted into the night as the Stompers, wielding everything 
from lead pipes to vials of acid, increased the carnage.
 
Singer had just begun to serve dessert when vibrations from the first explosion 
shook the building, rattling glassware, dishes, and windows.
What the hell was that? said Zac.
Killaine was already over by the window, looking out into the street. It came 
from the direction of the Scrapper Camp.
Just then another explosion erupted in the distance.
Then one more.
I see flames, shouted Killaine, sprinting toward the cellar door.
Stomping Party, snarled Itazura, running into the next room and pulling his 
samurai sword from the wall.
By now all of the I-Bots were headed for their emergency weapon packs.
The echo of rapid machine-gun fire grew louder.
Constant.
Closer.
Theyre moving, shouted Stonewall.
The sewers! cried Zac. Theyll head for the sewers.
Psy-4 flew past, a blur of flesh and weapons. Were already there.
They darted toward the cellar door and took the steps three at a time.
Singer, stay with Zac! called Killaine from below.
The robot stood next to Robillard, thought about it, then stood in front of him.
In the cellar, Itazura ran to the center of his labyrinth, brushed away some of 
the soil to reveal the ringed handle underneath, and flung open the steel 
trapdoor.
Over there, he snapped at Stonewall. That switch, hit it.
Stonewall did, and the work lights in the sewer came on.
Itazura swooped down onto the ladder, shouting, The hell with it! and kicked 
out, pushing himself away from the ladder and out into the air.
It was a twenty-five foot drop from the top of the ladder to the muddy, filthy, 
stinking floor of the sewer; if Itazura had climbed down, it would have taken 
him almost thirty seconds.
Freefalling took less than five.
He landed with a loud thud!, feeling the pressure snap upward through his 
ankles, legs, and groin, then regained his balance, unsheathed his sword, pulled 
the StunShooter from his belt, and ran straight toward the noise.
Psy-4 was next, then Killaine, Radiant, and Stonewall.
All of them freefalling, slamming feetfirst into the muck, then running forward 
so fast it looked as if their legs had been pumping before they even touched 
down.
 
From his hiding place, Rudy was startled from his sleep by the explosions.
He jumped up, guns at the ready, and began stumbling around blindly.
Then the work lights came on.
Rudy found another spot under one of the metal catwalks and crouched there, out 
of sight.
Something heavy was going down.
Going down hard.
He watched as the figures came jumping down from the ladder and ran past him.
All of them were fast.
And big.
Even the redheaded bitch.
But that wasnt what shocked him; no, speed and anger, weapons and force didnt 
phase him so much anymore.
What scared him were their eyes.
The work lights that had come on a few moments ago ran the length of most of the 
tunnel, but the area where the ladder emptied into sewer was mostly in shadows.
When the first one had run pastthe Asian dude with the long hairRudy was 
convinced that he was seeing things, that he wasnt quite awake yet.
When the second one came down, he was worried that he might have breathed in 
some kind of weird-ass sewer gas and damaged his brain.
But when the redheaded bitch came down, he knew for sure that he wasnt 
imagining anything.
Just for a moment, as each hit the ground and were swallowed in shadow, he saw 
the bright, red, photoelectric glow of their eyes.
Ohgodohgodohgod theyre robots! They look like human beings but theyre goddamn 
robots!
Making certain that the five of them were long gone, Rudy slowly crept out from 
under the catwalk and bolted over to the ladder.
Looking up, he saw how far they had dropped.
Looking down, he saw the deep, deep indentations their weight had left in the 
muck.
Robots.
Coming down.
From Up There.
Robots.
Including the redheaded bitch.
Whod been with DocScrap earlier.
But DocScrap didnt come down with them.
So DocScrap was Up There.
and they werent going to be back for a while. Gash and the Stompers would give 
them a good fight, that was for sure.
Shoving the pistols back into his belt, Rudy grabbed a metal rung and pulled 
himself up onto the ladder.
Ready or not, here I come, he whispered.
 
Itazura had been in enough violent confrontations over the years to know that 
the wilder he was, the more chances he took, and the more chances he took, the 
less his chances were of emerging on the far end of the fight unscathed. He knew 
this, he did, running at thirty miles an hour toward the sewer grate, he knew 
the dangers of going wild
you know your programming, pal, remember that: You can immobilize a human being 
in order to help others, to keep them safe from harm, you can even seriously 
injure and cripple a human, if necessary, so long as doing so will serve the 
Greater Good, so be careful not to go
wild now as he streaked toward the battlefield, leaping into the air and 
spinning his body around so his feet connected solidly with the grate and 
blasted the damn thing away from the concrete, sending it across the alley to 
slam into a group of Stompers and pinning them against a far wall with the sound 
of bones breaking under flesh.
Itazura hit the ground running and threw himself into a crowd of Stompers, 
making quick work of their pitiful little weapons with nothing more than his 
hands and feet, scattering their unconscious forms like handfuls of dried 
leaves, and for a moment, as he stood there surrounded by still forms, he felt a 
rush equal parts exhilaration and disappointment because he was just getting 
warmed up, he was ready, bring it on, bring it on now, but there was no one and 
nothing at the moment to bring on and so he stood there, shaking from head to 
heel, a warrior without a war
and he wondered then, as he always did at moments like this, if he or any of 
the I-Bots were capable of killing in battle, if Zac had modified their 
programming to such a degree that they could snuff out a human life for the sake 
of the Greater Good, but Zac never gave a straight answer to that question, so 
Itazura, for the moment still a warrior without a war, stood stone still and 
silent
then heard a sound from behind him, a metallic sound, probably a trash can 
being knocked overmore probably thrown to distract himand Itazura hit the 
ground, instinctively went into a roll as someone plowed off a line of bullets 
in his wake, each shot coming closer and closer, but Itazura could roll fast, 
damned fast, and by the time he twisted around and sprung up onto his feet the 
shooter was out of bullets and changing the magazine.
Itazura smiled.
Laughed at the pitiful little punk who was, oddly enough, also armed with a 
Katana.
Then Itzy charged.
He slammed into the punk and closed his arms around the kids waist, squeezing 
hard enough to push the wind from the punk, but the kid was strong, the kid knew 
the Tai breathing discipline and was having none of it because his body went 
limp, then just as quickly sprung taut, almost breaking Itazuras grip, and the 
two of them spun madly around in the alley as the other I-Bots and Stompers and 
Scrappers collided from five different directions in a thunder-twist of fury.
 
Rudy climbed off the top of the ladder and found himself in what had to be the 
basement of DocScraps headquarters, only he was standing in the middle of one 
of those weird mazes like they used to have pictures of in geography books 
during the blessedly short time hed been in school, but he didnt really give a 
damn about what the old Doc did to get his rocks off, he was only interested in 
blood now, and the Doc was alone, and Rudy was going to enjoy this, his moment 
of glory, and after so many years of living on the streets, of scrounging for 
food and shelter, of being scowled at, spit on, and looked down upon, he 
deserved his moment of glory and he was going to claim it and love every 
exquisite second.
He silently crossed the length of the cellar and started up the next set of 
stairs.
Oh, yeahhe was going to enjoy this.
He readied both his guns.
DocScrap probably wouldnt enjoy this, but, what the hey?
We all had to make sacrifices.
 
Itazura was still twisting around the alley with the punk, who was a helluva lot 
stronger than Itazura had counted on, because somehow the kid had managed to get 
his arms free and wrapped them around Itazuras waist and squeezed, and Itazura 
actually felt pain, and that made him even more angry because the punk had 
gotten the better of him
they spun, squeezing and screaming, their attention so totally whole on 
crushing the other into unconsciousness that Itazura knew someone had to make a 
move soon
and thats when the punk did an extraordinary thing.
He simply let go.
Itazura stood still for a moment, surprised, the kid hanging from his arms, and 
that moment was enough for the kid to kick Itazura squarely in the groin.
Itazura gave the kid a sharp but controlled headslam for his trouble.
Then Itazura let go, expecting the kid to crumple in a heap to the ground, but 
he didnt, he simply staggered back a few feet, clutching his bleeding head, 
then shook it off like a dog shakes off water after coming in from the rain.
This guys stoked on some serious street-candy, thought Itazura, wondering 
exactly what sort of drug gave this kind of inhuman strength to a kid.
Itazura saw the kid go for a gun, so he ran forward and spun, kicking him hard 
in the wrist and watching as the gun took flight. The kid went for it but 
Itazura shouldered him back, then the kid whipped around, caught Itazura with an 
expert kick to the knee, and backed off.
Not bad, said the kid.
Cmon, snarled Itazura.
You gotta name?
Little Mary Sunshine.
Pretty name, Mary. Mines Gash.
The kid charged.
Blindly.
No unfair advantage, Itazura chanted silently to himself. An I-Bot cannot use 
its strength to unfair advantage when battling a human being. Remember that: Zac 
Robillards Rule #6.
The blow started down as Gash slammed into Itazura, jumped right inside the 
blow, and when they were very close Gash brought his head way over to the left 
and then snapped it up into Itazuras face. Even before one of them cried out 
there was the sound of something breaking, something snapping deep down inside 
one of them, but which one, neither knew, and neither cared.
But Gash was the one who dropped down, driving his feet into Itazuras kneecaps, 
and then Itazura came down and used his elbow to break Gashs nose and this 
brought a shriek of pain.
Itazura leaped back up onto his feet, thinking Move, move, move, circling as the 
punk rose up, his face a mask of blood, but Gash wasnt through yet, not by a 
long shot; he countered Itazuras circling.
Itazura got Gashs nose again with the palm of his hand, and Gash howled once 
more but didnt stop coming, he threw his legs out and caught Itazura in the 
hip, knocking him off-balance for a moment and that was all the time he needed 
to turn and run, but this wasnt a retreat, not by a long shot, no way, he 
taunted Itazura as he ran, and Itazura went after him, chasing him through the 
violence and flames and bullets until Gash jumped up, grabbed the ladder of a 
fire escape, and began climbing.
Come on, Mary! Catch me if you can!
Itazura turned and ran back, away from the fire escape, then spun around, 
hunched down, and shot forward, leaping off the ground and rising nine feet into 
the air, touching down feetfirst on a landing just a few feet behind Gash.
It took them only ten seconds more to reach the roof of the building.
 
Rudy decided that surprise was his best partner, and so came into the room 
firing.
He expected that DocScrap would looked shocked.
What he didnt expect was the robot.
Big brass-colored mother was standing directly in front of DocScrap and was wide 
enough that none of the bullets had a chance; they hit the robots chestplate 
and ricocheted in all directions, blowing out a couple of windows and smashing 
into the plates on a dinner table, reducing them to fragments.
Rudy moved to the right.
So did the robot.
Rudy faked left, went right.
And the robot was with him all the way, moving forward.
He tried to get a look around the thing, tried to see where the Doc had gone, 
but the robot just kept coming at him, not running but walking fast enough, so 
Rudy fired again, aiming for some of the exposed circuitry beneath the 
chestplate, and this time he hit something because there was a spark and a hiss 
and a little bit of smoke
but the robot kept coming.
You cant hurt me! he screamed at it.
And the thing shrugged at him like he was some kind of idiot, and Rudy had 
always hated being looked at that wayit was bad enough when people did it to 
him, but to have a piece-of-shit stinking robot look at him like thatit was 
just too much.
The robot was right up in his face now.
Rudy backed up.
The robot came forward, bumping him with its chest and pushing him back toward 
the cellar door.
He started pounding it with the gun-butts, spitting and cursing at it, but it 
did no good.
Okay, fine, so it had the upper hand at the moment, but Rudy knew he could do 
something this model couldnt
he could run.
The question was when to make his move.
He looked over his shoulder, saw the cellar door a few feet away and getting 
closer.
He took a deep breath, knocked the robot upside the head with one of the guns, 
and threw himself down onto the floor, rolling to the side and then jumping to 
his feet.
The robot turned around but Rudy didnt wait for it this time.
He turned tail and ran deeper into the rooms, firing into every opened doorway 
that he passed.
Finally, he had to stop to reload.
He was just slamming the fresh magazine into place when a voice behind him said, 
Those were my grandmothers dishes.
Huh?
And Rudy turned just in time for DocScrap to slam a beefy fist right into his 
bandaged face and knock him to the floor.
The guns skittered away, just out of reach.
Then DocScrap did something Rudy didnt expect.
The dude just fell on him.
It was like drowning in a sea of heavy stone. Rudy jerked and squirmed but the 
Doc had him pinned down. Rudys body could feel what Doc was trying to do, keep 
his arms pinned while he levered with feet and knees to get up into a sitting 
position and slam his fat ass on Rudys chest, and Rudy knew he had to hang on 
and do whatever it took to keep the Doc from getting into that position, so he 
tried to lock his heels around Docs ankles and keep the dudes legs 
straightened out, but the Docs head butted sideways into Rudys face, so Rudy 
tried to bite the dudes ear. As a boy hed fought like this when the 
neighborhood kids ganged up on him. Like a smell that can suddenly evoke 
haunting pictures from a forgotten past, the feel of another body on top of his, 
pressed hard from head to feet, brought out long-dead emotions and memories. 
Rudy jammed the side of his head against the Docs face, knowing that only by 
sticking tight could he keep the dude from butting him senseless. Bracing his 
right knee he tried to jerk his body up and turn the Doc over onto his side, but 
there was no lifting that weight. He saw the peeling paint on the walls, the 
patterns in the wood of the floor, objects flashing meaninglessly across his 
vision as scenery whirls before the screaming face on a rollercoaster. They were 
locked in a pulverizing intimacy, total strangers who understood only that the 
other was, like himself, fighting for his life. In order to live, the other one 
had to be destroyed.
That suited Rudy just fine.
 
Up on the roof, Gash screamed and ran, racing for the edge of the roof where 
there was a fifteen-foot drop to the next building, but Itazura sliced his legs 
out from under him from behind and Gash crashed into a spinning aluminum air 
vent. He thrashed away, rose to his feet again, and tried to run and this time 
Itazura caught him with a shoulder, so Gash turned his hand into a fist and his 
arm into a club and struck out at Itazuras throat, hitting it 
Adams-Apple-Ground-Zero, then Itazura countered with a chop to Gashs broken 
nose and an elbow to his stomach, but Gash was beyond pain now, there was only 
blood, and as he stumbled back, wiping the blood from his face and pulling in 
heavy gulps of air, he finally got a good look at the carved-ivory handle 
jutting above Itazuras left shoulder
and suddenly he felt renewed energy.
The two of them stood very still, only a few feet apart, glaring at one another.
Very slowly, almost ritualistically, Gash reached over his right shoulder and 
slid his sword from its untraditional hinged sheath, gripping the handle with 
both hands and bending his arms into the traditional challenge position, his 
hands level with the right side of his head, the long, gleaming blade sticking 
straight out like a frozen beam of steel fury.
Across from him, Itazura took three steps back, bowed once, then lowered his own 
sheath to waist level as he drew his sword and assumed the 
acceptance-of-challenge position.
Gash took a quick, short step forward.
Itazura moved back one step, then came forward, snapping his wrists just enough 
to make the tip of his sword dance a small circle in the air as it connected 
with the tip of Gashs, the colliding steel blades glistening under the 
streetlights, striking together with a high-pitched, deadly, almost musical 
shhhhkick!
Gash laughed, stepped backward, then quickly pulled back his blade, swung it up 
over his head, and charged toward Itazura, swinging his sword back and forth.
Itazura countered with an up-and-under move, bending his knees and spinning 
around, swinging his sword in a low arc that ended at the same point in the air 
as Gashs blade, the swords slamming together with an uglier sound, their razor 
edges actually sparking from the combined force, then Itazura carried through on 
the spin with his right leg, cracking his ankle into Gashs shins and bringing 
him down.
Gash anticipated the move, and as soon as he felt Itazuras ankle slam into him 
he deliberately tumbled not to the right, as the kick was intended to force him 
to do, but to the left, and as he went down he dragged the edge of his sword 
along the length of Itazuras until, as Gash hit the roof, they were locked at 
the hilts.
Now both of them were down on their knees, face-to-face, their locked swords 
forming a brilliant silver V over their heads.
Marys pretty good, snarled Gash.
You aint seen nothing yet, replied Itazura, pushing back and away and jumping 
to his feet in one fluid movement
which gave Gash a great opening, and he took it, swinging down and around at 
his opponents ankles, but at the last second Itazura did a bucket jump and all 
Gash cut was air
and as Itazura came down he snapped his right foot forward and caught Gash in 
the chest, knocking him back toward the edge of the roof and there was no way he 
could keep hold of his sword and maintain his balance, so he made a split-second 
decision and let go of the handle, but it was useless, because as his sword 
clattered onto the roof he felt himself going over the side, arms pinwheeling, 
and the next thing he knew he was in flight, neither part of the earth nor the 
sky, only suspended in a cold, silent, weightless no-mans-land, then gravity 
and reality kicked in and he plunged down fifteen feet onto the surface of the 
next roof and landed squarely on a mass of discarded trash and cardboard boxes 
that cushioned his fall but didnt completely break it
he was stunned into immobility.
He lay there waiting for the pain to kick in, looking upward at the edge of the 
roof where Itazura now stood, looking down at him.
Itazura smiled, then swung his sword down toward the surface of the roof like a 
golfer trying to get a good shot off the first tee, and the next thing Gash knew 
there was his sword, sailing out into the air, and all he could think was: I 
cant move, I cant move, and the goddamn things coming right at me
but Itazura had known what he was doing, knew exactly how much pressure to 
apply, what arc to aim for, and when the sword came down it landed three feet to 
Gashs left side.
And it was just getting interesting, said Itazura, shaking his head.
Gash felt the sensation returning to his body and looked down to see if he could 
move his legs, and it was the sweetest thing hed ever seen, that little twitch 
of his foot, because that meant that his spinal cord was okay, he wouldnt end 
up in a wheelchair or sitting on a corner with a tin can begging for pity-coin 
from passersby, and he tried to grab his sword but his shoulder blade made it 
clear to him that it wasnt a good idea right nowat least there were no broken 
bones, just a lot of cuts and bruises and-oh, yeahpain, mustnt forget about 
thatso all he could do was look up at his opponent and scream, This isnt 
finished yet! You hear, motherfucker? Ill get you, I swear Ill bleed you like 
a hog, YOU HEAR ME?
Above him, Itazura gave a two-fingered salute and said, Look forward to it.
Then turned and ran back, leaving Gash alone on the roof with his disgrace and 
pain and crippling, crushing fury.
Ill cut you into a thousand pieces, Mary! You hear me? Youre dead! Im 
talking to a dead man! A DEAD MAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNN!
But there was only the echo of his voice for an answer.
 
In the alley, most of the Stompers had either been knocked senseless or had 
undergone an attack of common sense and run away to regroup.
One group of robots had managed to knock over a truck and scatter into the 
night, but the majority of them had been herded into the sewer by Stonewall and 
Psy-4 while Radiant and Killaine kept watch for a second wave of attackers.
Did anyone see where Itzy went? called Radiant.
He took off after one of the Stompers right after we got here, said Psy-4.
And you complain about my temper. Killaine laughed.
Then Radiant held up her hands, signaling silence.
What is it? asked Stonewall.
Theyre coming back. We only fought half of them. Others were waiting.
As soon as she finished speaking, the rumbling roar of the next wave of Stompers 
came shooting toward them.
Come on! called Psy-4, pushing the last of the robots into the drain.
Killaine and Radiant followed right after.
Psy-4 reached into a small pack attached to his belt and removed two grenades.
Move everyone down by the ladder and take cover, he said.
Radiant grabbed his arm. What the hell do you think youre doing?
Im going to blow the entrance so the Stompers cant follow us in. Now will you 
please go with the rest?
No. I wont leave you here.
Radiant, I
Shut up, she snapped, grabbing one of the grenades from his grip.
Psy-4 began to say something, thought better of it, and touched her cheek. Pull 
the pin and throw. Well have three seconds before they blow.
Oh, gooda race! Betcha I win.
Oh, for the love of
His words cut off when he saw the figure suddenly drop down at the mouth of the 
drain.
Psy-4 immediately ran forward, drawing back his fist to deliver a crippling 
blow, if necessary, but at the same moment he struck out, the intruder spun 
around and danced past him.
Yeah, I was worried about you, too, said Itazura.
Psy-4 glared at him, shook his fist, thendespite himselfsmiled.
And thats when the next mass of Stompers rounded the corner and came at them.
Now! shouted Psy-4.
Both he and Radiant pulled their pins.
Tossed the grenades at the mouth of the drain just as a Stomper readied a 
ShellBlaster.
Then the three of them ran like hell.
The grenades went off at the same time the ShellBlaster hit its mark, and the 
explosion was magnified to several times what it should have been, blasting pipe 
and concrete and water in all directions.
Psy-4, Radiant, and Itazura were less than halfway to the safe end of the tunnel 
when the blast hit them.
They flew the rest of the way.
When they hit the ground, all three of them were stunned into momentary 
unconsciousness.
The dust and debris was so thick in the sewer it might as well have been a 
deep-sea fog.
But when everything cleared, the work lights were still onmiraculously 
enoughand the three of them were a bit shaken but mostly unharmed.
Damn, said Radiant through a series of coughs. I broke a nail.
Will the suffering never end? said Itazura.
Come on, snapped Psy-4, rising to his feet and dusting himself off. Lets go 
see how the others are.
They had just reached the safe area when, from above them, somewhere past the 
top of the ladder, the echo of an inhumanly pained scream came crashing down.
 
Rudy forced his temple up against the Docs cheek, slowly maneuvering his head 
so that he could sink his teeth into some soft part of the mans face.
Zac drew his head back for another butt but Rudy craned his neck to keep their 
heads together. Underneath him Rudys hand scrambled for a hold on his wrist, so 
Zac jerked his body into an upward arch and brought his right knee up into 
Rudys groin at exactly the same time Rudy brought his left knee up into Zacs, 
and the two of them connected with much less force than they had hoped and only 
managed to entangle themselves worse than before.
And Rudys fingers found the Docs wrist.
And Rudy pressed his nose and chin into skin.
And Rudy pulled his lower jaw down until he could feel his teeth touching soft, 
soft flesh. Then he latched on with all he had.
There was a mad, intense, electrifying, hysterical, almost erotic glee to 
itbiting into human flesh! Bite, bite, bite! Glee and hatred and revenge and 
power!
Zac screamed in agony, his body jolting in brutal jerks, a great fish 
electrocuted by the searing pain of the barb.
Rudy brought his knee up once again, harder than before, and felt DocScrap 
crumple when he connected.
Zac fell off the kid but the punks teeth remained embedded deep in his wrist.
Then Singer was there, his large metal hands gripping the back of the punks 
jacket and lifting him up from the floor.
But Rudys teeth wouldnt let go.
Zac thrashed, howling, and managed to get a grip on one of the punks guns.
Rudy was laughing through the blood.
Singer kept pulling the kid back.
And Zac swung up with as much force as he could rally from the fog of pain, 
slamming the side of the gun into the kids head; once, twice, three times.
Rudys teeth let go after number three.
Singer turned around and lay Rudy on the floor, then turned his attention to 
Zac.
Thats when Rudy rose from the floor, his bandages soaked in blood, and 
stumble-ran down the hallway until he came to one of the few windows in the 
building that wasnt covered by iron bars or wire mesh from outside.
He ripped off his jacket and wrapped it around his arm, then slammed it through 
the glass, kicked away the remaining shards, and perched there like a bird 
readying for flight.
It was a good twenty-foot drop.
But hed lucked out.
Here in Cemetery Ridge, trash piles were as common as concrete, and there was a 
doozy of a heap just to his right, so he crawled out onto the too-narrow ledge 
and began to swing, one, two, three-and threw himself down toward the garbage.
He hit with a sickening whumpf! and was immediately covered in rotted food, 
newspapers, and assorted other foul-smelling things that he decided hed rather 
not study too closely.
It took him a moment to crawl out of the filth, but once he was free he didnt 
bother to look back, he just ran, his peripheral vision quickly memorizing a 
handful of nearby landmarks.
This wasnt finished.
Hed be back.
And next time, hed carry serious hardware for the job.
Feeling not the least bit discouraged, he ran on.
 
Killaine was trying to get Zac to sit still, but he was far too agitated to 
comply with her wishes.
I want everything ready to move out of here as soon as possible.
Dont you think youre overreacting a bit? asked Killaine.
One of the Stompers found his way in here! If one of them can do it, the others 
can.
They wont be coming in through the sewer, said Psy-4. We pretty much trashed 
the entrance.
But the kid knows where we are now! snapped Zac. How long do you think itll 
take him to round up his cronies and come back?
Killaine shook her head. I dont think he will.
Whys that?
Because I caught a glimpse of him right before he jumped. That was our initiate 
from earlier.
Itazura glared at her. If you were close enough to recognize him, why the hell 
didnt you go after and grab him?
Because I decided that it was more important to see if Zachary was all right. 
Youre certainly not going to tell me that my concern was misplaced, are you?
no, guess not
Zac touched Killaines hand. You sure it was him?
Yes. So if he was up here trying to get you, that means he isnt in yet, so the 
other Stompers wont help himits part of their twisted little code of honor. 
An initiate has to prove he or she can survive on their own. Until he 
accomplishes what he set out to do, hes alone.
Very alone, added Stonewall.
I think well be safe here for a few more days, at least, said Psy-4. But 
just to be safe, Stoner and I will triple-enforce the downstairs doors. Weve 
been stockpiling steel sheets just in case something like this happened.
Zac winced as Killaine began cleaning the wound. Do whatever you have to to 
protect us here until we can move to the backup location. We are moving. We 
havent lasted this long by taking unnecessary risks and Im not partial to 
starting now.
48
In the now-empty restricted area of the main lab, Sam Preston sat before a 
massive computer console, staring through the glass partition that physically 
separated all the technicians from the mainframe. He tried not to think about 
the bodies up in his office, or the pain in his body, or the moments ticking 
away from his life.
And not only his.
He stared at the glass container atop the system.
He stared at the electrodes and monitoring wires and cables that ran into the 
container, snaking through the mixture of neural fluid and liquid lambda to 
reach their target.
And so he stared at the small robotic brain that was the center of the system.
He reached down, flipped a switch, and brought the brain online.
Hello, Roy, he whispered to it through a cloud of pain.
Within the system, the child whispered, Hello, Daddy.
My son, thought Preston. My good, fine boy. Can you ever forgive me?
Then he did the damnedest thing.
He started to cry.
49
A thousand miles away, Annabelle Donohoe sat in her darkened office, gently 
fondling the locket around her neck.
After a moment, she reached behind her neck and unhooked the clasp on the gold 
chain.
She turned the locket over in her hands and pressed the small catch.
The locket opened.
She stared wistfully at the two small photographs contained within.
The one on the left was of her holding a newborn baby.
The one on the right was of that baby as hed looked as a boy on his fourth 
birthday.
Three months before hed died.
Oh, Roy, she whispered. My son, my good boy.
Then thought: Ill get him for what he did to you.
And the damnedest thing happened then.
She began to cry.
  PART TWO



  WHEELS OF ILLUMINATION



  Whoever fights monsters, should see it that in the process he does not become 
  a monster.
  Nietzsche



50
071:34:52


Killaine placed her hand defiantly upon her hips and glared at Zac. Id rather 
not be the one to leave here today, especially not after last night.
Zac rubbed his eyes with his good hand, winced at the pain in his other, heavily 
bandaged hand, and sighed. Killaine, I dont quite know how to put this to you, 
but
But what?
Look, you were an immeasurable help to me last night. You probably saved my 
hand.
One of us had to learn how to apply our medical programming. I only wish wed 
had more supplies in the first-aid kit to
Zac held up his bandaged hand. You did wonderfully, Killaine. Really, you did. 
And I was very impressed with the way you handled yourself in the sewer this 
morning. The robots were pretty shaken up by what happened, and you werewell, 
surprisingly pleasant to them during the repair process, and I appreciate that.
She began impatiently tapping her foot. Yes?
Did I forget to mention how delicious breakfast was?
No. In fact, Zachary, thats the third time youve said something about it.
He cleared his throat and loosened his shirt collar. Ah, yes, well
Why are you sending me out on this assignment when weve enough to keep all of 
us busy for the next week or two?
You, uhyou look like you could use a little fresh air?
Try again, Zachary.
Oh, all right! Youre getting on everyones nerves, okay? I hate to be that 
blunt about it, Killaine, but your mother-hen routine has started running a 
little thin.
She dropped her hands to her side. Well, I beg your pardon, sir, I do! Far be 
it from me to take bloody charge around here of all the small things so the rest 
of you can concentrate on more important matters
I didnt mean it like that, I only
let me tell you something, Mr. Zachary Robillard; if it werent for me and my 
mother-hen routine, as you call it, this household wouldnt function at even 
the simplest, everyday level. Heaven forbid that Itazura orworseRadiant were 
ever turned loose in the kitchen or on the laundry.
Youre overreacting.
Now its overreacting, is it? Ill have you know
Zac lifted both hands in surrender. Enough!
Killaine bit down on her lower lip, staring at him.
Killaine, whispered Zac, you know how much I deeply appreciate all you do for 
mefor all of us. At least, I hope you do. He reached over and took one of her 
hands. And I know, the way things have been lately, that you dont get a lot of 
thanks for it. So Ill tell you this now so youll understand: Its not that I 
dont care about you, because I do; and its not that I dont find your company 
wonderful and exciting and comforting, because you know that isnt the case; and 
it especially isnt because I dont think youre needed around here. Its simply 
that you cant seem to concentrate on anything for very long and, as a result, 
your attempts at being helpful are backfiring severely.
So what youre telling me is that Im getting on everyones nerves?
Zac smiled at her. Now, why didnt I put it that way in the first place?
Killaine sighed, put her hands on her hips once again, looked at Zac, then away 
from him, and finally dropped her arms once again. I hate it when youre right 
about things like this.
So youll do it?
If you wish.
I wish. Lord, how I wish!
You neednt rub it in. She took the slip of paper he offered to her and read 
the information on it. Youre having me on?
Nope.
And this is a security assignment?
Zac nodded his head. He agreed to all the terms, including the daily fee.
And you accepted the job?
No, I told him that one of us would meet with him this morning to assess the 
situation. If you decide that the job doesnt interest you, tell him no, hell 
pay the consultation fee, and that will be that.
She looked at the slip of paper again. I cant believe Im going todo you 
realize that this will mean dealing with children?
Do you have something against kids, too?
Killaine decided to let the too portion of the remark slide. No, Ive nothing 
against children. I justIits just thathavent we had this discussion 
before?
About your wishing you could conceive a child?
yes she replied softly.
Thats why I thought you might enjoy the assignment. If you accept the job, 
were only talking about a day, maybe a day and a half, if that long. I know how 
you like to be around children and this way you not only get to be around lots 
of kids, but you get a little free time, we make some more money, and, with 
luck, you catch a couple of bad guys.
She stared at him. You know, Zachary, you could sell the Devil himself a 
subscription to Catholic Digest.
A career move I never considered.
Killaine checked her watch. I guess I should be leaving. This does say ten 
A.M., doesnt it? I sometimes find it hard to decipher your handwriting.
Its not that bad.
Egyptian hieroglyphics are easier to read.
Im hurt. And, yes, it does say ten A.M.
Well then, Im off.
Be careful.
Why do you say that?
Zac smiled. If you dont exercise extreme caution, youre in genuine danger of 
having fun.
Watch it, Zachary. If I take the job I just might come back here and drag you 
along to suffer with me.
Call in when you decide. I just might let you drag me along.
 
Down in the garage area of the warehouse, Stonewall and Psy-4 were just 
finishing up welding the third sheet of steel onto the bay doors. One more and 
the area would be fully secured from even the power of a standard ShellBlaster.
Psy-4 crossed over to the small refrigerator that sat near the door and took out 
a couple of bottles of beer. You want one?
Sure, why not?
The two of them sat against the wall in the garage, not sweating even though the 
temperature in the area was well over one hundred and fifteen degrees.
This is domestic, isnt it? said Stonewall.
I havent had time to make a beer run since Prestons the other night, okay?
I prefer the Irish imported brand. The dark beer.
Thank you for reminding me. For a second there I almost thought I was doing 
something right.
Stonewall reached over and smacked Psy-4s cheek.
Ouch! What was that for?
For bringing up that failure business again. We agreed that you would file 
that away elsewhere until we have Roy.
Is that any reason to hit me?
Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. I have decided to begin dispensing smacks with 
great generosity whenever one of us gets out of line.
Psy-4 pulled down a few more swallows of the cold beer. And what happens if you 
get out of line?
Then you can smack me.
Right.
They sat in silence, then, finishing up their drinks.
Zac really worked on the robots this morning, said Psy-4.
Some of them were badly damaged.
Yeah
Stonewall turned to look at his friend. But you were thinking?
I was thinking about Roy.
Well get him out in time, Psy-4. Dont worry.
Oh, Im notnot about getting him, I meanwell, okay, maybe a little, but not 
as much as I was thinking
you mean worrying.
as I was considering what were going to do with Roy after we have him.
The portable chamber is ready to go. I checked it earlier this morning. We have 
a small supply of neural fluid and liquid lambda, so there wont be any problem 
with
Psy-4 held up his hand, silencing Stonewall. I know all that. But I also know 
that the portable chamber has to be recharged every seventy-two hours.
Again, that wont be a problem. So why
Because it seems to me that all were doing is exchanging one form of 
imprisonment for another.
Until we can find the materials to construct a body for him. And youll be able 
to communicate with him anytime you choose. And with a few minor adjustments to 
our system, all of us will be able to communicate with him. He wont be lonely 
anymore, and he wont be afraid.
Psy-4 tipped back his bottle, realized that it was empty, then crushed it into 
powder and dumped the powder in the nearby recycling bin. Do you ever think 
about the fact that, barring disaster, were immortal, Stonewall?
I am keenly aware of it, yes.
Does it ever bother you that we dontwe dont revel in it more?
Im not sure I follow.
Look at us. We will live forever. Theoretically, theres nothing we dont have 
the time for. We dont have to worry about life ever endingeven if the human 
race finally pushes all its buttons and explodes all its bombs and chemical 
weapons and everything else in its arsenal of instant extinction, we will 
endure. Every morning is, for us, a new beginning, filled with new 
possibilities, challenges to meet, countless things to learn. I could spend a 
year doing nothing more than admiring the way moonlight casts glittering 
sparkles over the water, and it wouldnt be a waste of my time because there is 
time for such things.
Sounds very pleasant to me.
But what about Roy?
Im sure hed enjoying seeing moonlight on the water, as well.
Thats not what I meantthough Im certain youre right about that point.
What did you mean?
Psy-4 rose and began pacing. I mean that hes a child, a human child, and were 
going to make him immortal.
Stonewall sighed and began readying the equipment for attaching the next layer 
of steel to the bay doors. Youre doing it again, Psy-4.
What?
Creating a problem to worry about where one didnt exist a few moments ago.
Psy-4 walked up to Stonewall and gripped his arm. What is it that causes human 
beings to create? I mean, everything from indoor plumbing to Van Goghs Starry 
Night and chocolate bars and The Idiot?
Stonewall only stared at him, his face revealing nothing.
Mortality, said Psy-4. From the moment a human child is held upside down by 
its ankles and smacked on the butt, he has a limited amount of time upon this 
earth. And eventually he will be made aware of the death that waits for him. I 
think its that certainty of lifes end that forces human beings to create, to 
use their hands or minds to leave a mark behind, something to tell the babies 
who will follow, Hey, I was here, and this is what I left behind for you, and I 
hope you like it and remember me because of it. At some point, that knowledge 
of limited time sets in permanently, and they feel compelled to make their 
remaining days count as much as possible. Then you consider us. We dont have 
the same kind of threat hanging over our heads that they do. Well never have to 
worry about dying of natural causes. If we can just avoid being murdered, well 
live forever.
So we werent borne astride the grave, as Beckett put it?
Psy-4 snapped his fingers and pointed at Stonewall. Exactly! We already possess 
what for humanity is only a dream. And what do we spend most of our time doing? 
Looking over our shoulders for more of Annabelles goons to come after us! 
Doesnt that ever make you angry?
Stonewall shrugged but said nothing.
I find that Im feeling a certain selfishness about my existence. I want to 
live forever. I want to watch generations of humanity come and go. I cant wait 
to see what new advances theyll come up withand I think they will. For all 
their darkness, I think humankind is far too clever to allow itself to be wiped 
out.
Youre straying from the point.
I am? OhI guess so. Sorry. He picked up his goggles and put on his welding 
gloves, then checked the blowtorch. I dont want Zac to leave us. If we can 
construct a body for Roy, then why not do the same thing for Zac?
Weve all been careful never to broach that subject with him. It was agreed 
that he would have to come to us with that wish.
Psy-4 put on his goggles, adjusted the tightness of his gloves, then sparked the 
blowtorch and adjusted the flame. I just wish we didnt have to make the choice 
for Roy. I hate to admit it, but there are times when I envy humankinds 
mortality, the immediacy that it instills their existence with. Its something 
well never know.
Part and parcel of our lot, said Stonewall, dragging the next sheet of metal 
into place.
One way, Roy will lack the immediacy of existence that will compel him to leave 
his mark; the other way, hell have time for everything, and so the immediacy 
will be lost.
But not necessarily the desire to make a difference. You still want to make a 
difference, dont you?
Of course.
And youve adapted rather well to human behavioral patterns, if you dont mind 
my saying sowhy else do you insist on wearing the goggles and gloves? That 
torch could explode and it would do only minor damage.
Itd still hurt.
No arguments there.
Psy-4 pulled the goggles down so they hung around his neck. You already know 
why Im going on like this, dont you?
I knew as soon as you began to pace.
Psy-4 nodded. Does that make meevil?
No. And Id be lying to you if I didnt admit that the thought crossed my mind, 
as well.
Wishing that perhaps one of the Scrappers in the sewer wouldnt survive?
Of course. It would take care of all resultant problems. We wouldnt have to 
worry about tracking down and purchasing the parts to build a bodyparts that 
Annabelle Donohoe could undoubtedly trace within an hour of our purchasing 
them
It wouldnt surprise me if she already has a system in place to track sales of 
robotic pieces.
Nor I. Secondly, were one of the Scrappers to perish, we wouldnt be saddled 
with the task of building a new body without Zacs knowledgeI dont like 
deceiving him any more than you do. Youve got nothing to feel guilty about, 
Psy-4. No, its not a very nice thought, but its understandable. And you must 
keep in mind that we are not exactly in a nice situation at the moment. So dont 
worry that a thought like that would cross your mind. He reached over and 
placed a hand on Psy-4s shoulder. But if you start to think about causing
no, never. Im not Killaine. I do know their lives have value to them.
Fine. But if
Ill come to you right away.
Very good. Then: So, are you going to use those goggles or not?
You want them?
No. Just, please, take them from around your neck if youre not going to wear 
them. They make you look odd.
You mean goofy?
That word has never passed these lipsnor will it ever.
Psy-4 put the goggles back on and laughed, then extended the flame and began 
welding the steel into place.
 
Itazura stood in the doorway of Radiants bedroom, watching as she sat before 
her vanity table combing her hair.
Why do you do that? he asked her.
Do what?
Use a mirror? You cant see yourself.
She turned around, facing him with her eerily beautiful eyeless face. Because 
the silver backing reflects more than images, Itzy. It reflects energy, as 
well.
I didnt know.
Radiant turned back toward the mirror and continued brushing her hair. Theres 
a lot about me you dont know.
Like?
Radiant paused, holding the brush mid-stroke, then pulled it from her hair and 
placed it on the vanity table. Like the way I adore the textures and 
temperatures of color. Ill bet you never thought about it that way before, did 
you? Colors having temperatures. But they do. And I can tell the shade, texture, 
and brightness of the color by the way it feels. Not only that, but at night 
when I lay in bed, I can hear thingsthe sighing of the moon, the thrumming of 
the darkness, the laughter of dreams, the silent breaths between raindrops. 
Every form of energy, natural or manufactured, biological or mechanical, has its 
own rhythms, its own sensations and smells and moods. Sometimes it overwhelms 
me. I can hear souls singing in the twilight, and the first pulsing of life in a 
newly conceived child. I can smell confusion. I can taste regretand its not, 
surprisingly, a bitter taste; it has the flavor of a dewdrop from the petal of a 
dead rose blown across a dirty sidewalk on a chill autumn wind.
Itazura nodded his head. So why spend so much time preening over yourself?
Radiant folded her hands on her lap and turned her face toward him. Because I 
know that Im beautiful, all right? I know it, I can feel it, I can imagine what 
I must look likebut I cant see it.
Poor little you, said Itazura, with not a trace of sympathy in his voice.
I know how conceited and self-centered that must sound to you, how vain my 
behavior must seem to the others, but
But what?
Once, about a year ago, right before we had to leave Montreal, I went for a 
walk down St. Catherine because I always enjoyed the sense of pride I felt 
coming off the old buildings in that areathey thought themselves grand things, 
those buildings did. Anyway, I was walking along, enjoying the buildings pride 
and the sidewalks excitement and the pulsing life of all the people who passed 
by, and then thisthis twistedness shot into my skull and began to surge through 
all my senses.
An old beggar woman had grabbed my hand and was babbling to me in French, 
pleading for money. I have never before or since experienced such pure madness 
from a person, and it scared me. Not only because of her physical decrepitness, 
that I could sense right away, but because deep down, swimming beneath her 
madness like a body who falls through the ice and is swept along by the currents 
underneath, there was thisthisthis quilt of fraying memories, and within that 
quilt I caught the whisper of a profound image of how and what she used to be, 
and I saw her, so young and alive, so vibrant, with so much to look forward to, 
and then it was gone. Poof, just like that. I dont know if she went mad because 
of some hideous disease or because something happened to her that was so painful 
and terrible her mind couldnt deal with it, but whatever the reason, for a 
moment I had a split sense of Her-Then and Her-Now, and the two of them together 
shocked me into a state of fear Id never known. She thought of herself as ugly, 
both within and without, and that image of her so youngto Her-Now, it was just 
some picture in a magazine shed seen once, she refused to believe that she had 
ever been anything other than what was Now. The madness made her believe in 
ugliness, and so she was. Ugly and pitiful. So I worry that I mightmight lose 
my beauty someday. I think Im entitled. Like it or not, none of you have ever 
experienced the core-deep depravity of true ugliness. But I have. So I preen. 
And Ill keep preening, thank you very much. You rage over robots lacking a race 
memory; Ill listen to the poetry beneath the everyday surface of the world. And 
if that still makes me seem vain and self-centered, then to hell with you.
Itazura came into the room, crossed over to Radiant, put his hand gently on her 
shoulder. Im scared, too.
She touched his hand. Even ninety minutes is cutting it too close for my 
taste.
I hate having to lie to Zac.
No ones actually lied yet.
Noweve only concealed a large part of the problem.
I prefer to think of it as reshaping the facts to form a more perfect truth.
Itazura smiled, then leaned down and kissed her on top of the head. Whatever 
floats your boat, Sis.
Itzy?
Yeah?
Do you think well succeed?
We have to.
But do you think we will?
He touched her cheek. We have to. Theres no other option.
I dont like having no options.
Neither do I. But we have to think of the child.
Yes, said Radiant. I have a feeling that the terror hes known and lived with 
for so long makes my run-in with the beggar woman look a walk through the park.
Depends on the park. If its a walk through Central Park at three in the 
morning, well, then
Radiant giggled.
Thats what I was going for, said Itazura.
Thanks, I needed to laugh. Then: Was there a particular reason you came 
here?
Psy-4 and Stoner are just about finished with the welding. We need to go over 
the preliminary plans and see if changes need to be made.
If Killaine will stop hovering long enough to
Zac sent her out on a job.
So there is a Santa Claus!
I dont know if Zac would much appreciate the comparison, but, yes, Virginia, 
there is.
51
Sam Preston awoke with his head buried in his folded arms.
He came awake with a start, pulling up so fast that he almost toppled over 
backward in the chair.
He blinked, pulled in several deep breaths, and tried to get his vision to 
focus.
Slowly, in bits and pieces of fragmented, blurred details, he was able to 
determine with some degree of certainty that he had fallen asleep at the console 
in the main lab.
He checked the control board and saw that Roy was back onlineno, scratch that: 
He was still online.
He almost shut it down, then decided not to.
The kid
my son, my good boy
didnt have much longer left; he might as well get out there and fly the 
InfoBahn while he could.
It, thought Preston to himself.
Think of him as an it and you might just get through this without losing your 
mind.
He pushed away from the console, made his way out through the door only he had 
the code to open, and stumbled his way through the secret corridor until he 
reached the foot of his hidden staircase.
From there, it was touch and go, stumble and stand as he made his way up into 
his office.
He tried not to think about Roylet alone Roys motherbut the image of the 
childs face the way it used to be kept drifting back into his thoughts.
Time was, he would have been able to ignore the image, knowing as he did that 
the essence of the child was still alive and relatively well, awaiting the 
return of Robillard. Preston had planned on convincing Zac to construct a body 
for Roy, preferably another I-Bot beingand if Robillard refused, Preston had 
ways of forcing him.
At least, that had been the original plan.
Then came the phone call from Dr. Segriff with the nine dreaded words: Sam, we 
need to talk about your test results.
Now it was two bodies Preston needed from Zacscrew it if they were I-Botic or 
not.
He needed to live.
And he needed to have his son with him.
no, not your son, not a him, hes an it, remember?
no good. Roy was his son, and Preston couldnt think of him in any other way, 
no matter how hard he tried to or how merciful it would have been for him, and 
now Roy was less than three days away from extinction and Preston knew it was 
his own arrogant fault
what was I thinking?
Easy, he answered himself, you were thinking you had the world by the balls, 
werent you? Making a name and reputation for yourself by stealing anothers 
mans ideas because you knew you were too foolish, inept, and incompetent to 
come up with anything on your own, then getting promoted on the basis of your 
duplicity, moving with the Big Boysbut especially the Big Gal, the Boss Lady, 
luscious Annabelle, who was all too ready to share her bed with you, and you 
were so ready to please. But neither of you counted on her getting pregnant, did 
you? Hell, no. But pregnant she became, giving birth to a bright little boy who, 
in turn, thought you were the bestest thing in the whole great big wide world. I 
love Daddy thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis much! By that time youd moved on, started your 
own company, Big Guy. You were so safe and smug within the myopic borders of 
your world, and you never once gave a thought to being undone by an absurdity, 
did you? Because thats what it was, an absolute, certified, A#1 
in-goddamn-comprehensible absurdity. It was absurd to think that in this 
country, in this age, with so much wondrous medical technology there for the 
paying, that a little boy, a happy, radiant, inquisitive, healthy little boy 
with a giggle that brought tears to your eyes could die from a disease youre 
supposed to get from kissing or burning your candle at both ends. Well, heres a 
Muppet News Flash for you, Sam; it was possible for a four-year-old boy who 
loved to watch ducks and collect sea shells to feel bad, and then a bit worse, 
and then a whole helluva lot worse, and finally lousy in a way that required 
machines and tubes and pills and catheters and there was not nearly enough money 
in the fucking world to fix, and before you knew it you were sitting in the 
front pew at good ol St. Francis de Sales Church listening to some second-rate, 
blue-haired organist eviscerate J. S. Bachs Sheep May Safely Graze and 
dreading the moment when the two dozen children from your little boys preschool 
are going to stand up and sing Let There Be Peace On Earth because thats when 
you were going to lose it and lose it bad and wonder how but mostly why 
something like this could happen. Just forget it, pal, just scratch that why 
business right off the list because theres no making sense of some shit, and 
your nice manners and fine credit record and good insurance notwithstanding, it 
is possibleand you have a crisp, clean copy of of Autopsy #A72-196 to remind 
you in case you forgetfor a four-year-old boy to contract Epstein-Barr virus 
and have his immune system so quickly degraded that he acquires, in spite of 
your fine house and dazzling grin and that secured slot on the Fortune 500, a 
thing called acute interstitial pneumonia, then another thing called purulent 
exudate that gets lonely in a hurry and so invites pelvic venous plexis to come 
join the party and presto-change-o!youre looking at a little boy who in less 
than four weeks curls up into a wheezing skeleton and turns yellow and finally 
dies in a torturous series of sputtering little agonies, and you cant even get 
to his bedside to hold his hand because of the tubes and wires and bandages and 
all the rest of the Close Encounters of the Third-fucking-Kind hardware dwarfing 
this room where all the numbers are zero and all the lines are flat, so when he 
dies it is without the final benefit of a warm, loving human touch tingling on 
his skin to let him know that you will always love him and will miss him every 
second of every hour of every day for the rest of your lifebut youd done 
something the night hed died at the hospital, hadnt you? Long before the 
funeral, before anyone else saw his tiny, diseased body, youd called your team 
in and told them exactly what to do, and theyd obeyed your orders, hadnt they? 
Theyd expertly removed Roys brain from his ruined body and used some of that 
state-of-the-art equipment to imprint his consciousness into the sponge of a 
robotic brain, that lovely little glop of platinum-iridium, because it occurred 
to you that death wasnt instantaneous, not at all; it moved through the body in 
stages. It occurred to you that it was possible to snatch a bunch of cells hours 
after somebodyd checked out and grow them in cultures. Death was a fundamental 
function; its mechanisms operated with the same attention to detail, the same 
conditions for the advantage of organisms, the same genetic information for 
guidance through the stages, that most people equated with the physical act of 
living. If it was such an intricate, integrated physiological processat least 
in the primary, local stagesthen there was no way to explain the permanent 
vanishing of consciousness. What happened to it? Did it just screech to a halt, 
become lost in humus, what? Nature did not work that way; it tended to find 
perpetual uses for its more elaborate systems. So you get to thinking that maybe 
human consciousness was somehow severed at the filaments of its attachment and 
then absorbed back into the membrane of its origin. Maybe thats all 
reincarnation was: the severed consciousness of a single cell that did not die 
but rather vanished totally into its own progeny. And you reincarnated your son, 
didnt you? Not only because you loved him but because you wanted to prove to 
all the nay-sayers once and for all that you were Zac Robillards equalyet, 
still, you had to add a little something extra to save your worthless face in 
case it went wrong, and now look where its gotten you.
He stumbled through the secret door and into his office, collapsing onto the 
brand-new sofa and noting that security had done a nice job of cleaning up and 
removing the bodies.
Then he asked himself once again why hed done to Roy what hed done.
And the same answer came back, just as it did every time he dared let his 
thoughts wander down this particular, deadly path.
He did it because he loved Roy.
He wanted his son back.
So the two of them could go to Annabelle and be a family.
Dammit all to hell, anyway!
Of all the women in this world to fall in love withthat once-in-a-lifetime, 
head-spinning, bells-ringing-in-your-ears kind of falling in lovehe had to pick 
Vampirella, Queen Ice-Bitch of the Century
this was getting him nowhere.
He pulled himself up into a sitting position, rested his head in his hands, then 
rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock.
9:50 A.M.
He wondered if Janus would actually consider his offer.
No, he couldnt count on that.
And he didnt know who else could handle the assignment.
Which left only one option.
As much as he hated it, he was going to have to contact her.
He pulled himself slowly up from the sofa, staggered over to the wet bar, and 
poured himself a tall, cold glass of seltzer water.
The intercom on his desk buzzed.
He stumbled over and answered.
Yes, Leslie?
Im sorry to disturb you, sir, but Ms. Donohoes on Line Two. This is the third 
time shes called.
Oh, shit
Okay. Um, ask her to hold for just a few more moments.
Very good, sir.
He fell back into his chair, surprised to find himself shaking.
And not from the pain.
He was genuinely excited to be hearing from her.
He ran a hand through his hair, straightened his tie, and took another sip of 
seltzer before lifting the receiver.
He barely had time to say hello before she tore into him.
52
Five minutes until ten, and already the line outside the carnival grounds was at 
least two hundred people long.
Killaine went up to the security guard and flashed her IPS, Inc., badge, the one 
that identified her as Karen Reynolds. The guard checked her name against those 
on a list and let her through.
Stepping past the gate, she turned to the guard and said, Whats a feed 
camp?
The tent where food is served to the public.
Thank you.
The midway was a street from the dreamland of any child, paved with wood 
shavings and sawdust that clung to the bottoms of shoes, the slightly musty 
scent mixing with that of fresh popcorn and cotton candy.
As she walked along the midway, Killaine noticed all of the booths and the neon 
lights decorating them.
She wondered what this place would be like at night, once darkness fell and the 
neon came on and the music was loud and the Ferris wheel was going and the 
lights on the merry-go-round were blinking as the animals danced around and 
around, up and down
she was so busy imagining what it would be like here at night that she almost 
missed him.
Miss Reynolds? came a scratchy, smoky male voice.
Killaine stopped a few feet past the edge of the feed camps tent flap, laughed 
at herself, then backed up. Maybe Zac had been right to send her here. Just 
knowing what was going to be happening here in another two minutes lifted her 
spirits. Even from here she could feel the cumulative anticipation of parents 
and children alike, all of them impatiently checking their watches and bouncing 
on the balls of their feet: What do you want to do first, hon? I wanna go on the 
merry-go-roundwanna get my fortune toldwanna see a bearded ladywanna play 
ring-tosswanna ride the Scramblerwanna go pee, we been standin here a awful 
long time, Mommy
She hated it when Zac was right about her moods.
But, knowing what joy would be flooding into this place in a moment, she hated 
it a little less than usual.
She stood at the entrance of the feed camp, blinking against the sun, trying to 
get a good look at the man whod called her.
Might as well come inside, he said. If you dont, youre liable to get 
trampled by the young ones.
He sounded ancient.
Killaine stepped into the tent and its waning shadows.
The temperature immediately plunged a good twenty degrees.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the slight darkness within.
Mr. Morgan? she said.
Right here, came a voice from behind her. But just call me Danny. Most folks 
who work here do.
She turned to face him.
Killaine was suddenly glad that she had what Itazura often called a 
stone-face.
Because it meant that Daniel Morgan couldnt read her expression.
So he wouldnt know how shocked she was.
Before her stood a man of probably average height, though you couldnt tell it 
from the way he was standing.
All hunched over like that.
Putting most of his weight on the aluminum arm-crutches that extended from the 
handgrips he clutched.
Probably because he couldnt walk with just the leg braces.
Not to mention the very slight but nonetheless noticeable curvature of his 
spine.
She refused to think of him as a hunchback.
Glad you decided to come, Miss Reynolds, said Daniel Morgan, leaning one of 
the crutches up against a table and offering his hand.
Killaine shook it, then looked down.
His skin had an odd texture.
Then she saw he was wearing light gloves with the fingers and thumb cut off 
them.
Sorry about that, he said, giving his hand a slight wave before grabbing back 
his crutch. My hands get real sweaty, what with having to grip these silver 
bad-boys all day long. It also helps with the blisteringI mean, I tend to get 
less blisters if I wear these. Not that you asked. Im just a little nervous, is 
all. Could weuh, would you like to sit down and have an orange juice with me?
Sure, said Killaine.
She decided that he couldnt have been more than thirty-five or forty, but his 
voice sounded like a man two decades older. Maybe that had something to do with 
the disease that had left him in this condition.
He gestured to the picnic table where an icy pitcher of orange juice waited, 
along with two glasses, for them.
He even pulled out the bench for her.
Hope you dont mind, he said. I mean, therere some ladies who think this is 
kindve a sexist thing to do, pulling out a chair for them. I dont mean to 
offend you, its just the way I was raised.
I dont mind at all, said Killaine, surprised at how much she liked this man 
already.
Good, cause Im not in much of a position to run away if you decide Ive 
earned myself a slap in the face.
He looked at her face, then said, That was a joke. Its okay to laugh.
Good, said Killaine and laughed.
Morgan took a seat across from her, propped up his crutches, and poured their 
orange juice. Scoliosis, he said to her.
I beg your pardon?
Is your juice all right?
Yes, nice and frosty.
Yeah, its yummy stuff, all right. What I said was scoliosis. Contracted it 
when I was a kid.
The Czech strain of the late eighties?
Yeahhey, you got a good eye for this thing! I was only a baby. My parents were 
circus people and we were on tour. My case was the first instance of the disease 
in over ten years over there. Of course, they didnt call it scoliosis. I forget 
exactly what they named it, but it all came down to the same thing. Tied a big 
knot in my spine and rearranged the architecture of the bones and muscles in my 
legs. Im only telling you this because every damn time I meet somebody, I can 
see the question in their eyes, you know? Gosh, I wonder what happened to him. 
Then you cant have a decent conversation with them because that questions 
always hanging there between you. You keep wishing theyd just ask it and get it 
over with. Well, one day not so long ago, I decided, to hell with it, Im going 
to just tell people so they dont have to worry about hiding that question. I 
saw it in your eyes, though I gotta tell you, you did a better job of masking it 
than most people.
Mr. Morgan, I didnt mean to offend
The only thing that will offend me from here on out is if you keep it up with 
that Mr. Morgan crap. I told you, call me Danny.
Then you have to call me Karen.
Good thing thats your name, then.
Killaine laughed, noticing for the first time that there was an 
undeniablethough not obvious or traditionalrugged handsomeness to his chiseled 
face.
And knew then that she liked Danny Morgan.
Very, very much.
53
Annabelle, hello. I
Why didnt you tell me yourself? she snapped at him. Dammit, Sam, do you 
really think of me as being that heartless, that detached and coldhearted?
He felt something in his chest quiver. How did you find out? Janus?
Yes.
He had no business telling you.
Maybe not, but Im glad he did. We might have been a lousy couple, Sam, and we 
both sure as hell were lousy parents at the end, but that doesnt mean 
yourcondition doesnt matter to me.
My condition, he repeated. What a nice way to put it.
How am I supposed to put it? What do you want me to say?
Dont turn it into a euphemism, Annabelle. Im dying and theres nothing that 
can be done about it. Well, almost nothing.
Meaning?
Meaning what else did Janus tell you?
That you want to form a temporary partnership.
Yes.
Why?
Because I need Robillards help and Im not going to get it if you have him 
stashed away down there.
How can Robillard help She paused, then took a breath. Oh.
You got it.
Are you sure thats what you want?
Its no longer a matter of what I want, Annabelle. What I want is to never have 
gotten sick in the first place. What I want is to have gone to the doctor the 
first time the stomach pains started. What I want is for us to still be together 
andbut thats not going to happen. I cant afford to live in What-If land. I 
need to know if youre willing to help me.
Even though I dont have to?
Even though you dont have to.
Silence.
Well? asked Preston.
Im thinking.
Then let me ask you something else.
What?
Are you upset about my dying because you still care about me, or are upset 
about my dying because someone else knew before you did?
Thats a lousy thing to say, Sam.
Im feeling kind of lousy these days, Annabelle.
A pause. I still care about you, she said flatly.
Which explains the emotional tone of your voice.
What would you prefer? Shrieks, tears, and Forties-Movie-Heroine hysterics?
I would prefer to believe you.
Could we go back to your original question?
Preston gave a short, sharp, dark laugh. Whatever you say, Annabelle.
Yes, Ill help you.
And what will your help cost me?
Nothing.
Dont blow smoke up my
I said nothing! All right?
All right.
Annabelle exhaled. What do you know about what dear old Zacs been up to?
If you mean did he say anything to me about designing a new I-Bot prototype, 
the answer is no. But you know how Zac isI doubt he writes much down anymore. 
It wouldnt surprise me if hes got finished designs for at least three new 
models in his head. In fact, Im kind of counting on it, if you know what I 
mean.
I might. Is there anything I can do for you, Sam? Money, doctors, any 
experimental treatments that
You could contact someone in your pharmaceutical division and get me some 
morphine tabs. Janus dumped some of mine and I cant afford to run out.
How many?
Preston was surprised. Just like that? How many? One of the most difficult 
drugs in this country to obtain, and all you have to do is
Yes! Now, how many?
Preston sat back in his chair. Its good to hear your voice again, Annabelle. 
Ive missed you.
Did you give me a number in there or did I miss something?
Still all business, huh?
Still all business.
So Preston gave her a number, and then they got down to the business of 
business.
54
Thirty minutes into their conversationone that had been speckled with jokes, 
anecdotes, and endless stories, Killaine looked across the table at Danny and 
said, So youre telling me that your problem is?
Sticks, he replied.
Sticks?
Sticks. Its an old carny term. A stick is a person who poses as a big winner 
at one of the game booths in order to lure in markscustomers. Usually a stick 
is in cahoots with the owner of the flat store and
Excuse me, said Killaine. Flat store?
A flat store is a rigged game booth where theres no way somebody can win. Its 
called that because you can flat-out rob a person and theyll never know it. 
Even if they suspect, theres no way to prove it. All along a midway youll find 
all sorts of gamesbuild-up numbers, alibi games, peekers, razzlers, bafflers, 
and chips. Most of the guys are as honest as the day is long, but if one fixer 
gets his ass in here its not too long before the punk robbersll follow him in, 
and then the whole midway goes to hell in a handbasket. Outside men, peekers 
dolin out lay bears to underage girls, trailer joints running after hours and 
patch money flowing like wine.
Killaine stared at him, fascinated.
Danny looked at her then touched his face. What? Did Ioh, please tell me that 
I dont have something hanging off my
No, no, said Killaine, smiling. Its just thatshe laughedI didnt 
understand a damn word you said.
Huh? OhIm sorry, Miss Reynuh, Karen. When youve been a carny as long as I 
have, you start to speak a whole different language. It helps us understand each 
othersorta like our own little codebut it can work against us when a bad 
element comes in.
Would you care to translate some of what you just said?
Wellsure Im not boring you?
Killaine propped her elbow up on the table and rested her chin in her hand.
She was absolutely smitten with him. No, she said. Youre not boring me at 
all.
Good heavens, she felt like an adolescent girl whod gotten a crush on her 
history teacher. This wasnt her, it wasnt her at all!
Still, it was nice. Danny Morgan had a way about him, despite his physical 
afflictions; his face alone held traces of a thousand places, a million stories.
To Killaine, that was incredibly attractive. In the five years Zac and the 
I-Bots had been on the run, she had never, ever, felt anything like this toward 
a client before. Morgan had a bone-weary charisma that she found hypnotic; that, 
combined with his gravelly voice, made him seem all the more enigmatic. There 
was such a passion for his workalbeit a deeply hidden, well-masked 
passionevident in his every look, gesture, word, and inflection. She couldnt 
get over the way his eyes sparkled when he talked of the carnival life, and the 
way he
okay?
Killaine blinked, startled, and gave her head a little shake. ImIm sorry, 
Danny. I must have drifted off for a moment.
The heat. It gets pretty hot out here pretty early. Believe me, its a lot 
better once night comes. Everything smells better, looks prettier.
I can imagine.
I didnt mean to startle you. Just wondering if you were okay.
Im fine. I didnt mean to be rude. Go on.
Well, I was saying that this carnival isnt a racket showat least, it wasnt 
until about four months ago.
And a racket show is
A carnival that carries rigged games. And racket shows are dirty with patch 
money. Before Killaine could ask him what that was, he held up his hand and 
continued. Each agent working a rigged game pays his fixerthats a person 
whos either got an in with local law enforcement or who is a local 
officeranyway, the agent pays his fixer so much money a night to make sure that 
his game isnt busted if someone raises hell and accuses him of being less than 
forthright with his practice. The amount an agent pays depends on how much the 
fixer needs for this assurance, plus his percentage of the nightly take. The 
prices can get pretty high when a stick enters the picture.
And you want me to find the sticks that are working your midway?
Morgan nodded his head. Im the storekeeper hereIm in charge of the midway 
games. Its my responsibility to make sure that all the games are legit, that 
everyone who plays gets what they pay for, and that no one along my route is 
running a flat, count, or bat away store. He saw the look on Killaines face. 
Theyre all crooked as my back. Its just that each kind has a different method 
of cheating. Look, Karen, I dont want to prattle on too much more about this, 
but
I really dont mind.
He smiled, then reached across and placed one of his gloved hands over hers. 
Thats awfully sweet of you to say, but I suspect you might be getting tired of 
the sound of my voice. I know I am.
Killaine laughed. Youve got a wonderful voice.
He raised an eyebrow at her. Really think so?
Oh, yeah.
A tight-lipped grin. Well, yours isnt exactly hard on the ears, either. In 
fact, what with that Irish accent of yours, its downright sultry. Reminds me of 
Maureen OHaras voice, with a little touch of Greer Garson thrown in.
Oh, I love Maureen OHara! exclaimed Killaine. The Quiet Man is one of my 
favorite movies!
Oh, a lady after my own heart. Wasnt Victor MacLaughlin terrific in that 
picture? I always liked Victor. I like Robert Mitchum, too. Thought he did a 
fine job in Ryans Daughter.
Thats my favorite movie!
Youre kidding?
No.
Mine, too!
And both of them laughed.
During the whole exchange, Danny didnt take his hand from Killaines.
And she didnt mind one bit.
I like you, Karen Reynolds, said Morgan.
I like you, Daniel Morgan.
Does that mean youll take the job?
What exactly is the job?
I want you to come back here tomorrow night with one or two of your other 
people and try to get yourselves hired as sticks. To a flat store owner, a good 
stick is worth their price in gold.
What will happen?
If one of you gets hired as a stick, youll be asked if youve got any 
partners. Youll say yes, and the booster grapevine will come alive. Youll be 
given instructions to move from one flat store to the other, and by the end of 
the evening Ill know where the flatties are.
And then?
And then the rest of us will run them off the midway. Carnies take care of 
their own, and they clean up their own messes. Its just that, in this case, the 
flatties are a bit more skilled at hiding themselves that Im used to. He 
shrugged. Of course, it could just be Ive lost my touch at spotting them. In 
any event, Ive tucked aside enough money to cover your services for two days, 
plus your consulting fee. If you take the job, then one of your people is going 
to have to spend a day training with me.
Training?
Cant offer your services as a stick unless you can spot how the games rigged. 
If the flattie knows that you know what hes up to, hell have no choice but to 
hire you for the night.
Even if theyve got a fixer?
Morgan shook his head. A fixer is only available on a first-come, first-serve 
basis. Lets say that a midway routes got four flat stores. On any given night, 
only one of them can hire a fixer and the other three can go hang. A smart fixer 
knows how important he is, and a lot of them make more money during a carny 
stopover than many of the owners. He finished off his orange juice, wiped the 
sweat from his forehead, then leaned forward. Karen, I hope you dont take 
offense to this, but its not going to do me a whole helluva lot of good to go 
on about this if youre not going to take the job.
I understand, said Killaine, gripping his hand before he could take it away. 
And I want to take the job, its just
Just what?
She brushed her thumb over the back of his hand, once, very slowly, then looked 
up into his eyes. Why is this so important to you?
Because I run a clean midway.
I know that, I know that you pride yourself on honest games, but II get the 
feeling theres something else. What is it?
He stared at her. Is this a deal-breaker?
No. Im just curious. She laughed. Occupational hazard for the security 
business.
Uh-huh, Morgan said, his face losing just a touch of its openness, its 
friendliness.
Killaine was immediately sorry shed pushed her luck.
Morgan slowly pulled his hand away, grabbed his arm-crutches, rose from the 
table, and hobbled over to the feed camps open entrance flap.
He watched the families wander by.
The mothers. The fathers. The teens.
The children, most of all.
Finally, he looked over his shoulder and said, Could you come here for a 
minute?
Killaine quickly rose from the table and joined him.
When she got there, she automatically put a hand on his shoulder as if theyd 
known each other all their lives and this was something she often did.
Look at them, will you? said Morgan, gesturing with his head toward a group of 
children who were being led along by two harried-looking mothers. Everythings 
still new to them. Even if something bads happened to them recently, they still 
laugh and giggle and, I dont know, hope, I guess. Remember when we were that 
young? How nothing bad ever followed us to the next morning? Maybe something bad 
happened before, but nows fun, youve got a ball to bounce or a model plane to 
fly or a doll to pretend with, and the days full of mystery and wonder and 
things to look forward to and He stopped himself with a shake of his head.
What is it, Danny? said Killaine softly, gently squeezing his shoulder.
He looked at her with a deep, hidden sadness in his eyes. You know, I once read 
this fairy tale about a young boy who discovered an ancient Egyptian vase, 
thousand of years old, and he wanted to open it up so he could get to the 
treasures inside. He tried to pry the lid off but he couldnt do it, so finally 
he loses his temper and smashes the vase to the floor andyou know whats 
inside? A rose. A single rose from five thousand years ago, perfectly preserved. 
And for a moment the boy inhales the scent of the rose and the air that had been 
sealed within the vase, and in that instant he feels cheated because he thought 
it was going to contain something valuable. Still, its a nice smell, unlike any 
other rose hes ever smelled before. So he decides to give it to his mother. But 
when he opens his eyes and looks down again, the rose has crumbled into dust. 
The story ends many years later, when the boy is an old man lying on his 
deathbed, and the priest asks him if there are any further sins he wants to 
confess. The old man looks up at the priest and says, I am ashamed that I 
didnt treasure the priceless gift the old rose gave to me. And he dies. And no 
one knows what he meant by it.
Thats a lovely story. Sad, but lovely.
Morgan laughed. Probably doesnt do much to answer your question, though.
Not really.
He maneuvered around on his crutches to face her. The ancient Greeks believed 
in two kinds of time, Karen: chronos and kairos. Kairos is not measurable. In 
kairos, you simply are, from the moment of your birth on. You are, wholly and 
positively. Kairos is especially strong in children, because they havent 
learned to understand, let alone accept, concepts such as time and age and 
death. In children, kairos can break through chronos: When theyre playing 
safely, drawing a picture for Mommy or Daddy, taking the first taste of the 
first ice-cream cone of summer, when they sing along to songs in a Disney 
cartoon, there is only kairos. As long as a child thinks its immortal, it is.
The intensity in his voice was hypnotic.
The look on his face was overpowering.
The fire in his eyes was breathtaking; Killaine couldnt look away.
Think of every living child, he said, as being the burning bush that Moses 
sawsurrounded by the flames of chronos, but untouched by the fire. In chronos 
youre nothing more than a set of records, fingerprints, your social-security 
number, youre always watching the clock, aware of time passingbut in kairos, 
you are Karen and only Karen.
Children dont know about chronos, and Ill be damned, Karen, if any of them 
are going to be forced to find out about it on my midway. Ill be damned if any 
of them are going to leave here without realizing the priceless gift of the old 
rose. Their innocence and joy and wonder will be taken away from them soon 
enough. The carnival remains one of the few places of wonder left to them, and I 
want it to remain that way. No child will leave here in chronos because some 
greedy son-of-a-bitch flat store owner took them for all the money in their 
piggy banks.
Does that answer your question?
yes
Will you take the job? Will you help me keep kairos away from the kids?
With not the least bit of self-consciousness, Killaine reached up and touched 
his cheek. Yes, I will.
Good. If you could have your team member be here about noon, Ill start 
training him.
She reached down and gripped his forearms. It will be me.
His smile brightened considerably. Really? You want me to teach you?
Killaine felt herself actually blushing as she smiled. Yes. Teach me.
And for a long moment, they simply stood staring at one another and smiling.
Looking for all the world like a couple of love-struck teenagers.
55
Across the road from the carnival entrance gate, Rudy watched from behind an old 
newsstand for the redheaded bitch to leave.
Locating the building where hed tried to dust DocScrap last night had been 
easier than hed thought, thanks to a couple of well-placed packages of Stoke 
powder into the hands of Gashs RoofWatchers. The RWs were scattered all over 
Cemetery Ridge, their duty being to record the comings and goings of anyone in 
the areaeven if it was just a pizza delivery boy
Rudy had laid the Stoke on them, and theyd been more than happy to listen to 
his description of the redheaded bitch. Theyd agreed that Rudys Stoke was 
enough for them to watch for one day and one night; then they either quit or he 
found a way to provide more of the drug for them.
Knowing they risked Gashs wrath for helping Rudy was out-weighed by their love 
of Stoke.
Theyd spotted her easily from the roofsthe Stompers had electronic 
surveillance equipment installed on most of the rooftops in Cemetery Ridge, 
particularly those areas near Cinnamon Roadand shed shown up during one of 
their routine scans.
A call to Rudy, giving him the direction in which she was heading, a description 
of what she was wearing, and he was on his way.
Hed spotted her from half a block away, going in precisely the direction hed 
been told. He made sure to keep a big distance between them.
He was still riding the adrenaline high from last night. Sure, he hadnt managed 
to dust the Doc, but hed shaken the dude up pretty badlyand taken a piece out 
of him, to boot.
Rudy imagined that he could still taste the Docs blood on his lips.
It wasnt all that bad, the taste of blood. A little coppery and sharp, but not 
too bad, when you got right down to it.
He reached up and patted down his hair. Hed removed most of the bandages from 
his face and head, leaving only the medicated gauze pads and medical tape that 
held them in place over Gashs handiwork.
He pulled a baseball cap from his back pocket, put it on his head brim forward, 
then clasped his hands behind his back and leaned against the newsstand.
They were up to something.
Stinkin robots. They might look like human beings, but they were still robots.
Future scrap material.
Wreckage-to-Be.
But he couldnt show his face to the Stompers, not yet. Not until he had 
something more solid.
Like one of the robots.
Preferably alive, but hed be more than happy to fry their brains, if he needed 
to.
Hed be really happy to fry the redheaded bitchs brain.
He wondered, for a moment, if all of her was constructed like a real woman.
She was mighty tasty-looking.
Rudy laughed to himself.
Might be kind of fun finding out, if he could pull it off.
But, for now, hed wait for her, follow her back to DocScraps building and see 
if he could figure out what the hell was going on. Then hed go back to the 
Stompers and show them he was worthy.
56
Psy-4 nodded his head and looked up from the blueprints and various notes. 
Looks good.
Of course it looks good, said Itazura. Familiar, tooits the backup plan we 
didnt use the other night.
Thats because it would have taken too long, said Psy-4.
Like weve got tons of time this go-round?
No, but we do have a couple of advantages we didnt have before.
Such as?
For one, we know exactly where we are going, how to get there, and what 
systems energies need to be redirected in order to achieve the goal; for 
another, we have a wider window of opportunity than before.
Only by fifteen minutes.
Give or take sixty seconds, said Stonewall.
Itazura winked at him. Pick nits, why dont you?
Psy-4 stood and exhaled. We can brief Killaine on this when she gets back. Id 
like to build a mock-up of the bottom floor of Prestons main buildingnothing 
fancy, cardboard and plywood will do. I dont think it would hurt us to do a 
couple of dry runs.
Is the cellar big enough for that? asked Radiant.
Stonewall checked the measurements. With a yard to spare on three of the four 
sidesif Itazura doesnt mind losing his labyrinth.
Not gonna have any time to walk it again before this, he said.
Psy-4 clamped a hand on Itazuras shoulder. I appreciate it.
Wait till you get my bill.
Psy-4 laughed, but not too loudly. Okay. Now we need to pick up the supplies on 
the list. Just make sure that we hit stores in this area. Use black-market 
dealers if you have to. I know that Annabelle will probably still be able to 
trace any sales of this type, but if we go the BM route, itll take her a bit 
longer to
Take who a bit longer?
All of them turned to see Zac standing in the doorway.
He looked from one of them to the next until hed made eye contact with all five 
of them.
Even Singer found it difficult to return his gaze.
Okay, said Zac. I give up. Youve stumped the band. I heard the name 
Annabelle and the words equipment, trace, and mock-upthat last one 
being particularly interesting. Someone care to tell me whats going on?
His body turned at enough of an angle that Zac couldnt see his hands, Singer 
looked at Psy-4 and signed, Oh, shit.
No one could find good reason to disagree with his assessment of their current 
status.
57
Morgan watched Karen walk over to one of the pay phones along the midway. She 
was going to call her boss and tell him she was taking the assignment.
He hoped his jaw hadnt dropped open again.
He hadnt expected anything like her.
Not even close.
Not at all.
Everything about her was ethereal to himher eyes, her smile, her laugh (Oh, 
yesher laugh!)he was a goner the minute he saw her.
Hed never believed in anything like love before. Oh, sure, friendships, however 
brief or transient, those he could believe in; the occasional one-nighter was 
the closest hed ever come to romance, but love?
Not even close.
Not at all.
Probably wouldnt have recognized it if it had sprouted fangs and bitten him in 
the Very Tender Parts.
Oh, how he didnt need this little complication.
Still, there were worse things that could happen to a person.
Much worse things.
He saw her punch in the phone number, then turn, smile at him, and give a short 
wave so filled with dormant little-girl innocence he felt himself blush as he 
returned the gesture.
This was nuts! She was right there in plain sight, only ten yards or so away 
from him, and he missed her.
That wasnt a good sign.
He suddenly felt another set of eyes looking at him, and turned his head enough 
to see one of the game booth operators smirking at him.
He gave the man a puzzled look.
The operator jerked his thumb toward Karen, then pointed at Morgan, then rolled 
his eyes skyward while shaking his hand.
Morgan sneered at the guy and flashed him the finger.
This wouldnt last long, this feeling he had, this immediate symbiosis.
For him, it never did.
But that didnt mean he couldnt enjoy it while it was here.
He looked back and saw that she was still staring at him.
Her eyes so clear and green; Summer Eyes.
Just dont smile, he prayed. If you smile at me now, Im done for.
She smiled.
So did Morgan.
Just shoot me now, he thought.
58
That morning would go down in their personal histories as the Day the I-Bots 
Learned the Meaning of the Phrase Saved by the Bell, for as they all stood 
there trying to come up with a feasible excuse to explain what Zac had 
overheard, the phone rang.
Ill be right back, Zac said. And then well have ourselves a chat.
The moment he left the room everyones shoulders slumped in relief.
Oh, lets enjoy these next few moments, said Itazura. Theyll probably be our 
last moments alive.
Stonewall was already at the computer, typing away, bringing up record files.
What are you doing? asked Psy-4.
Saving our butts.
He found what he was looking for, then quickly grabbed Radiants hand.
Myriad levels of informational energy passed between them.
Looks like hes going to propose, whispered Itazura to Singer.
Do you ever turn it off?
Jealous?
In your dreams, Funny-Boy.
Radiant let go of Stonewalls hand and turned toward the others. Just follow my 
lead when Zac returns.
Why your lead? asked Psy-4.
Because the rest of you are lousy liars, thats why! She then tossed her hair 
to the side, fluffed it a little, leaned against the console, and plastered on 
her most dazzling smile.
Shouldnt you be topless and laying across the hood of a sports car?
Stuff it, Itzy, replied Radiant through clenched teeth, her smile never 
faltering. Here comes Zac.
Dont I get a last cigarette?
You dont smoke, replied Singer.
No, said Itazura. But this suddenly seems like a good time to start.
 
Killaine?
Hi, Zachary. Im just calling to let you know that Ive accepted the job.
I thought you might. Weve never had any dealings with circuses before.
Its a carnival, Zachary.
He shrugged. I get em mixed up.
Having never been to either in your life, I can understand that.
How are you getting along with Mr. Morgan?
Silence.
Killaine?
Oh, Zac, hes such a wonderful man. Ive never met anyone like him.
Oh?
I cant thank you enough for making me come here.
No problem, I figured thatdo you realize you just called me Zac?
Hm? I did? Sorry, I guess I wasnt paying attention.
How many other team members will you need?
Oh, I can handle him just fine.
Handle who? Killaine? Hello, Earth to Killaine, do you read?
Hm? Oh, sorry, Zac. Um, hell need at least two more besides me. Ill be out 
here for the rest of the day.
Why?
He needs to train me.
Zac put a hand on his hip like an annoyed father. For what?
Ill explain everything when I get home tonight. Have to go now. Bye!
Zac stared at the receiver for a few seconds before hanging up.
Zactwice shed called him Zac.
And he wasnt quite so out of touch with certain natural processes that he 
couldnt discern what was happening to her.
Hed just spoken to a woman who was ga-ga over a guy.
From Radiant, he wouldve expected something like this.
But Killaine?
Zac gave a short, low whistle. That Mr. Morgan must be quite a guy.
Then he turned and headed back to the control room.
 
As soon as Zac entered the room, Radiant walked up to him and stood her ground.
You had no right to eavesdrop like that!
It wasnt my intention to eavesdrop, said Zac calmly. I needed to check a 
couple of equations that Ive been toying with in my head and decided to use the 
computer. It is here for everyones use, after all.
But you hardly ever use it.
Which suddenly means that I dont have the right to?
I didnt say that, all I meant was
Whoa! said Zac, holding up a hand. Just hold it right there. I didnt mean to 
overhear your conversation, and I apologize if any of you feel that Ive invaded 
your privacy, but the fact remains that I did overhear part of it, and what I 
heard was a bit on the alarming side, the events of the last few days 
considered, and I feel that Im within my rights to demand an explanation.
He sure does talk purdy, dont he? said Itazura.
Everyone glared at him.
Ill be quiet. Look, here I am, being quiet.
So you want to know what we were talking about, is that it? said Radiant.
Ive already answered that question.
Fine, she said, spinning around on huffed heels and stomping over to the 
computer. We were discussing this! She pointed to the monitor.
Zac came over and looked at the screen.
Mybirthday? Its not for another five weeks.
And a good thing, too. We were discussing your presentwhich, I might add, is 
something youve wanted for a long, long time. We were trying to figure where to 
buy it so that Annabelle couldnt trace the sale. Not that it matters now, Mr. 
Nibby, because if you heard that much of the conversation, then you know that 
were getting you a
I didnt hear that part, said Zac.
Radiant gave her head a little jerk, tossing her hair to the other side of her 
neck. No, no, you dont have to spare our feelings.
Its all ruined now, said Psy-4.
And we were so careful, mumbled Stonewall.
Zac looked at Itazura.
Im being quiet, remember?
Zac looked at Singer.
I have no choice but to be quiet.
Zac shook his head and turned around. I shouldve just stayed in bed.
He closed the door behind him.
Once again, there was a mass shoulder-slump of relief.
That was close, said Psy-4.
Stonewall shook his head. I hate lying, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!
Itazura put a hand on his shoulder. But how do you really feel about it, 
Stoner?
Radiant made certain the door was closed all the way, then turned toward the 
rest. It isnt a lie if, for his birthday, we do get him that thing hes been 
wanting for a long time.
What, exactly, is that? inquired Singer.
I havent got the slightest idea, said Radiant. But theres got to be 
something.
Itazura laughed. Tune in next week for the exciting conclusion of the Great 
Birthday Brouhaha, same Bat-Time, same Bat-Channel.
Can I please smack him now? asked Stonewall.
Not if I beat you to him first, replied Psy-4.
They all looked at one another, then laughed.
59
Morgans own bootha straightforward water race gamewas located at the far end 
of the midway. He was more than happy to show Killaine how his game was played.
Here, he said, handing her a squirt gun. Be careful, its loaded.
Very funny, she said.
One of the ways that you can spot a potential flat store is to watch and see 
how complicated the game is. The more complicated the rules of a game, the 
higher the chances that its probably rigged in some way.
This game, he said, standing a little to the left behind her, is really 
simple. A customer plunks down a quarter, picks out a squirt gun from the rack, 
and aims at the clowns mouth at the back of the booth. Go on.
Killaine began to take a classic shooters stance but was stopped when Morgan 
reached over and put a hand on her forearm.
No, no, no, he said. I mean, I know why youd position yourself like that
Training, she replied.
Right. Thing is, humor me here. Pretend that youre just an average, everyday 
schmo here to have a good time. The type of person who only sees guns fired on 
television.
Killaine nodded her head, relaxed her stand, and used only one hand to hold the 
gun and point it at the clown face.
Thank you, said Morgan. Now, all you have to do is squirt enough water into 
the clowns mouth to fill the balloon under his neck. He leaned in and 
whispered in her ear. Once its full of water, its shaped like a bow tie.
Killaine took a couple of shots, and was surprised that it wasnt easier to hit 
the mouth.
A lot of people are surprised by that, said Morgan. Thats because they make 
the mistake of assuming that water will shoot like a bulletin a straight line. 
But water arcs, as you have seen.
That hardly seems fair!
Ah-ah, said Morgan waving a finger, I never said it was easy, but it is fair. 
I cant change the laws of physics.
So how does a person win?
Like this. He took the gun from her hand, pointed it at the clowns mouth, and 
gave the trigger six slow, steady squeezes, filling the bow-tie balloon and 
bursting it.
There, he said, handing the gun back to her. No rigging, no hidden tubes in 
the clown to redirect the water, nothing but good, clean, honest fun.
You never have any problems?
Oh, yeah. Occasionally I get the odd asshouh, jerk who just cant resist 
turning the squirt gun on me.
Thats so rude.
Its also dangerous. He pointed over the edge of the booth to the series of 
electric wires that ran along the length of the floor. At night all the booth 
lights are oneven the clown faces are lit up. Somebody gets carried away with 
the water and the operatorin this case, moiis Mr. Crispy Toast.
Killaine looked at the squirt gun, then the innocent clown face. I never 
stopped to think that something this simple could be so dangerous.
Only if the players abuse the situation, and that doesnt happen very often. 
He held up one of his metal arm-crutches. Much as I hate to admit it, most 
folks who play my game get one look at my back and these crutches 
andbingo!such courtesy youve never seen.
Okay, Danny, youve shown me how an honest game is played. Give me an example 
of how a rigged game goes down.
Goes down? Whered you pick up that little phrase, reruns of Hill Street 
Blues?
Killaine gave a short, shocked laugh. Youre making fun of me.
Maybe a little.
Why?
Because youre awfully cute when youre trying to look outraged.
Watch yourself, Morgan. Ive been known to have a nasty temper.
Ill keep that in mind.
A smile. Youd better.
A bigger smile from him. Im shaking already.
Lots of smiling at each other.
Part of Killaines mind reminded her that, had she been watching this take place 
from a distancesay, in a really syrupy love story on television, this would be 
the part where she would pretend to start vomiting.
Over there, said Morgan, pointing to a booth across the midway; this one 
featured a simple three-balls-in-the-basket game.
Looks innocent enough, said Killaine, looking at the prizes and the slanted 
table in the back where three large wicker baskets sat.
Come on, he said, and started across toward the booth.
When they arrived, Morgan introduced Killaine to a large man named Herbert, the 
game operator (and the man hed given the finger to a while earlier, though he 
didnt tell her that part), and explained to him who she was.
Bout danged time you got on this, said Herbert.
I trust youll be able to keep this to yourself?
Anything for you, mfriend.
Karen wants to see a rip-off played out. Morgan took two dollars from his 
pocket and slapped them down on the counter. Ready?
Ready, replied Herbert, who then launched into a well-memorized pitch: Step 
right up, roll right up, ladies and gents, all it costs you is two dollars 
American for a chance to win any of the fabulous prizes you see displayed on the 
shelves behind menot so close, friend, this areas for the paying customers, 
thank you. It sounds too easy, you say? Two dollars for a chance at that 
portable CD player? Why, sir, you say, thats insane! Well, mebbe it is, but Im 
here to tell you that this is a carnival, folks, and whats a carnival without a 
little craziness? Why, its like
He loves going through his Pitch, whispered Morgan to Killaine.
Hes good at it.
You bet. Herberts been a carny all his life.
just two dollars American! All you gotta do is put three balls into one of the 
bushel baskets you see behind me. Piece of cake. Here, watch me!
Herbert tossed one of the softballsunderhandedinto the basket.
Yessir, folks, its that easy. Wholl dare to give it a try? Hows about you, 
sir? Win a prize for your lovely lady?
Morgan slid his money forward.
Nosir, said Herbert, waving a hand, nosir, I dont expect you to take my word 
for it, too many folks in this here world want to take advantage of a trusting 
soul like yourself. Tellya what Im gonna do. Im gonna give, free of charge, 
because Im an honest fellow and you look like one smart cookie, Im gonna let 
you take a free practice shot! And with that, he tossed Morgan a softball 
identical to the one hed thrown into the basket. Go on, sir, lob one in that 
basket for the lovely lady!
Morgan tossed the balloverhandinto the same basket as Herberts.
Outstanding! Outstanding! cried Herbert. Folks, we got ourselves a 
nat-choo-ral here! A prodigy! Here you go, sir! Heres your three balls!
He handed three softballs to Morgan, removed the other balls from the basket, 
and stood to the side.
Morgan tossed all three balls.
Only one of them stayed in the basket; the other two went in, then bounced out.
Okay, he said, turning toward Killaine. Howd he do it?
Do what?
Howd Herbert rig the game?
He didnt.
Herbert laughed. Yeah, I did.
Killaine thought about it for a moment. Then youve got anan outside man 
working something from behind the booth. A pedal or something that pushes the 
balls back out.
Nope.
She looked at Morgan. Okay, I give.
Sure you dont want to try and figure it out before we tell you?
Im sure. Whatever he did, he did right in front of my eyes while I was 
standing here.
Yes, that he did.
I didnt see him do itby the way, Herbert, whatever you did, it was very 
impressive.
Thank you, maam, said the large man, tipping his hat.
Talk it through, said Morgan. Youd be surprised at how easy it is to 
figure.
Well, he started with his Pitch
Distracting as hell, isnt it?
I thought it was kind of exciting to listen to.
Morgan nodded his head. Like I said, distracting. Thats the first element of 
the ployyour Pitch. The louder, wordier, and faster the pitch, the more 
exciting it comes across to the crowd. People are so busy enjoying the 
operators showmanship, they dont think to concentrate on anything else.
Add to that, said Herbert, that if there were customers standing here already 
playing, the Pitch is doubly distracting to them.
Because, added Morgan, once you approach the booth, youre looking at one of 
three things: Herbert, the prizes, and the baskets.
Not the softballs? asked Killaine.
No, replied Herbert. Almost nobody thinks to look at the balls right off.
So its something to do with switching balls?
No, said Morgan. The ball Herbert tossed in the bushel basket is the same 
kind I tossed in right after.
Killaine rubbed her eyes. Okay, so the Pitch is the first element of the ploy?
Morgan picked up three more balls. Second element is the Enticementin this 
case, it was my free practice shot.
But remember, said Herbert, that a customer is more likely to accept an 
Enticement if he or she thinks theyve been challenged. Now, watch. Herbert 
tossed a softballunderhanded, once againinto the bushel basket. Okay, whats 
wrong with this picture?
Nothing that I can think of, replied Killaine. Unless the method of tossing 
the ball has
not a thing, said Morgan.
She thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. Okay, I give.
Look at me, said Morgan.
With pleasure.
A little more of that smiling stuff between them.
Then Morgan said: See where Im standing?
At the counter.
See where Herberts standing?
Inside the boothoh.
By Jove, said Morgan in a pitiful Rex Harrison imitation, I do believe shes 
got it!
The distance, whispered Killaine.
Right! shouted Morgan, snatching up her hand and giving it a quick kiss. With 
his arm fully extended, Herberts three feet closer to the basket than I am.
Herbert parted his hands before him. Couldnt miss it if I was falling-down 
drunk.
Now, continued Morgan, this is where the third element comes into the 
pictureEgo. Herberts given his Pitch, hes offered the Enticement, and now the 
customers Ego comes into it. Herbert shows them how easy it is to make a 
basket. He hands them the ball. Did you happen to notice where he stood after he 
gave me the ball?
To the side.
To my right side, said Morgan. Thats because he saw that I was left-handed. 
If I were right-handed, he would have stood on my left.
It was beginning to come clear to Killaine. blocking the other two baskets.
Right again. This way, now that my Ego is involved, I not only want to get my 
ball in the same basket as Herbert got his, but I dont have any choice because 
his bodys blocking the other two. So I toss, and the ball goes in but doesnt 
bounce out.
Killaine snapped her fingers. Thats because Herberts ball is already in there 
to kill the bounce so your free shot doesnt rebound out. The basket isis
Dead, prompted Morgan.
dead, so the free practice ball tossed by the player will stay inside. But 
once he collected your money, he took both balls out of the basket and stood to 
the side so you could aim at any of the baskets, but since youre throwing at 
the baskets from a slightly farther distance, and because theres nothing in 
there to kill the bounce, the balls rebound out.
Morgan grinned and looked at Herbert. Not only gorgeous, but smart to boot!
Wow, Killaine whispered.
Now, thing is, said Herbert, I was only showin you how itd be set up if I 
was gonna cheat you. For regular play, I put one of these into each basket. He 
produced a rubber ball big enough to fit in his palm; it looked like the type of 
exercise ball a physical therapist might give to patient whod broken their 
hand. These weigh a bit less than half of what the softballs weigh, and since 
theyre smaller they stay down in the bottoms of the baskets, so you cant see 
them from anyplace but in here.
And you do thatwhy?
To soften the bounce but not kill it. That way, everybodys got the same 
chance. Most folks just naturally throw too hard, so I dont lose too many CD 
players.
The point is, said Morgan, that its an honest game and everyone has fun. He 
looked over his shoulder as he turned around. Thanks a lot, Herbert.
Any time, Danny. Then, to Killaine: Nice meeting you, Karen. You take good 
care of him, hear?
I will.
And, crazy as it seemed, Killaine meant it.
That was pretty sharp, the way you figured it out, said Morgan.
Killaine couldnt help herselfshe reached out and touched his cheek again.
To her joy, she felt Morgan lean into her touch, ever so slightly.
Come on around back of my booth, he said. Ive got another tent set up.
To show me the ropes?
The ropes, the rigs, the gizmos, hoochimajiggers and whatchamacallits.
As the walked slowly around the booth toward the tent, Killaine put her arm 
around Morgans shoulder and asked, How do you know so much about how to cheat 
customers at these games?
I was wondering when youd get around to asking about that.
Well?
Cant catch a gig artist unless youve been one yourself. He looked at her. I 
used to be a first-class flat store operator. I wish I could tell you that my 
conscience finally won out, but the truth is I had a fixer rat me out and I did 
sixteen months in the Ohio State Pen for my efforts.
And you sort of found your religion in prison?
Thats where I first read the story about the kid and the Egyptian vase with 
the rose in it. It was in a book of fairy tales in the prison library. Thats 
where I worked on account of my physical problems. So, Karen, youre working 
with an ex-con. I hope that doesnt disappoint you too much.
I suspected something along those lines.
Do youmind?
No, she said, smiling.
Then she did something that surprised even her.
She leaned over and kissed his cheek.
Morgan blushed. I should confess my sins more often.
Youre a very sweet man.
Morgan shrugged. Gotta make up for my shortcomings somehow.
Killaine knew he was referring to his physical condition, and that both hurt and 
angered her, but before she could say anything Morgan said: The stuff over 
there at Herberts booth was pretty simple, compared to what else youve got to 
learn. But if you remember the basicsthe Elements of the Ployyoull catch on 
pretty quick.
Do you know which booths are?
He sneered. Ive got a pretty fair idea, yes. He reached the other tent and 
lifted the flap for Killaine. After you.
She made a mock-frightened face. I feel as if Im entering some dark sorcerers 
secret alchemy chamber.
Huh, said Morgan. I always just called it a tent.
Then they went into their smiling routine again.
60
Annabelle sat at her desk, alone in her office, looking at the photograph of 
herself and Roy and Preston.
Had she ever really been that young?
That pretty?
That happy?
It all seemed like such a dream to her, a faraway, numbingly pleasant dream.
She blinked, then turned the photograph over, laying it face down on her desk.
No, this wasnt the time for melancholy or nostalgia. Now was the time to be 
readying herself for Robillards captureand he would be captured. She had 
complete confidence in Januss abilities.
She looked down at the list of items shed acquired for him in the last sixteen 
hours and shook her head.
Shed seen some very odd requisitions over the years, but nothing like what 
Janus had demanded.
Still, Annabelle had sent them along, figuring that his plan probably made great 
sense to him, and that was all that mattered, and so the better its chances of 
working.
She tossed the list aside and thought about Preston.
If only hed come to her sooner, butstupid, arrogant male pride.
Maybe it could have worked out between them
but probably not. Not after Roys death and Robillard stealing the I-Bots.
Robillard, she thought, making a fist.
One week. If you had waited one more week before running away, Zac, I might have 
let you go free. If you had waited one more week, then you could have been here 
to construct a body for Roy before he
No.
She wouldnt think about what Might Have Been.
Might Have Been was for the weak willed, for those who didnt have the strength 
to move forward.
What was it the late actor Robert Mitchum had once said about the past? Never 
look backsomething might be gaining on you.
Damn straight.
She looked down at her fist, feeling the muscles lock, and had to use her other 
hand to pry her fingers apart.
Shed dug her nails into her palm with such intensity shed broken the skin.
Her palm was bright with blood.
She smiled.
Blood; that seemed appropriate, somehow.
Because a lot of it was going to be spilled before this was done with.
And this would be done with very, very soon.
61
When Killaine returned from the carnival later that evening, Radiant met her at 
the door, grabbed her hands, and dragged Killaine into her bedroom.
I heard Zac telling Psy-4 something about your phone call, whispered Radiant 
intensely, excitedly. She pulled Killaine down onto her bed and the two of them 
knelt there, holding hands, facing each other like two schoolgirls sharing 
delicious hallway gossip during a sleepover.
Youve just got to tell me all about him, said Radiant, barely able to contain 
her joyous curiosity. Whats he look like? Does he have a sexy voice? Are his 
hands strong? Does he say things that make you feel all gooshy inside?
Gooshy? said Killaine.
Radiant smacked her hand. Cmon, you know what I mean. When he talks to you, do 
you feel like theres no one else in the world but the two of you? When he 
touches youhe did touch you, didnt he?
Killaine was smiling now. Oh, yeahbut not anything out of line.
Did he kiss you?
Yes!
Aaahhh! squealed Radiant. Oh, this is too good! He kissed you? Really?
A couple of times.
On the lips?
Nobut he did kiss me on the cheek when I left tonight.
Radiant thought about it for a moment, then gave a single, sharp nod of her 
head. Thats okay, thats good. That means he respects you and thats half the 
battle andoooooh, is he cute? Please tell me hes cute!
Hes got the most handsome, chiseled face Ive ever seen! There are some miles 
on it, but the lines and wrinkles in his skin are likelike scratches in really 
fine leather. Each one tells its own storyand hes got so many wondrous 
stories, Radiant! Killaine took a breath and put a hand on her chest. Oh, my. 
IveIve never felt this way about a man before. Its so odd, I always figured 
that youd be the one to get allgooshy over a man. She removed her hand from 
her chest, then reached up to feel her forehead. I never imagined something 
like this happening to me, Radiant, never! Youre the beautiful one, the one all 
the men look at and talk to and makes passes at. Im thethe Amazon. Men dont 
look at me in that way.
But he does?
Oh, yes.
And how does it feel? Cmon, cmon, cmon, tell me!
It feelsexquisite. He looks at me like Im the grandest thing his eyes have 
ever beheld.
Radiant squealed once again and pounded her fists against her legs. Oh, I am so 
jealous! You lucky strumpet!
I beg your pardon. I am no strumpet!
True, but Im just so jealous I had to call you a name! Radiant threw her arms 
around Killaine and gave her a long, tight embrace.
It took Killaine a second to get over the shock, but when she did, she put her 
arms around Radiant as well.
Oh, Killaine, said Radiant, tenderly. Im so happy for you. I know that we 
dontdont talk about the way we feel about each other very much, I know we 
fight a lot, but I really do care about you so much. Youre my sister! Im so 
happy for you, Id cry if I had eyes. She pulled back, brushed some of 
Killaines hair from her eyes, and said, And youre the beautiful one. I mean, 
I know Im pretty, and I know Im vain, but I only shove it in peoples faces 
because I know that if they look too long at me, theyll see theres not a lot 
beneath the surface, but if they look at you, theyll see the fire inside and 
will be drawn to it. Im glad Daniel Morgans one of those people who can see 
that fire in you. Oh, Killaine, this is so exciting!
I know, its crazy. Whenever he would step away from me to get something, or to 
demonstrate how a certain trick was done, Id miss him. Isnt that insane? The 
man was only a few feet away and I couldnt breathe correctly because I was 
afraid he wouldnt come back and be close enough for me to touch.
Oh, I cant stand it! I cant! How will you sleep tonight?
I dont think I will-I dont think I can!
I know. Its great, isnt it?
It is. It really is!
And they giggled.
From outside the closed door, Itazura said, Who are you two and what have you 
done with Radiant and Killaine?
Radiant threw a pillow hard against the door. Go away! Were talking in here!
Girl stuff?
Yes, girl stuff! shouted Killaine. Now go away before I come out there and 
give you a Dutch Rub!
A moment of silence, then Itazura said: Whats a Dutch Rub?
You dont know that term?
Cant say I do.
Its carny talk.
And thats supposed to explain it?
Killaine threw a second pillow at the door. Go away!
Psy-4 wants to see all of us in the control room ASAPwhich, by the way, is not 
a carny term.
Well be there in a minute! shouted Radiant.
Yes, echoed Killaine, barely able to keep herself from laughing. In a 
minute!
Girls. Itazura groaned.
Radiant and Killaine both stuck out their tongues at the door, then looked at 
each other and fell into another fit of giggles.
62
Waiting for the redheaded bitch to come back to her building, Rudyd had to duck 
into doorways three times in order to avoid getting spottedonce by her, but the 
last two times hed had to hide, it was because hed spotted a group of five 
Stompers wandering the streets.
Probably looking for him.
Everything was cool now, things were quiet, but there was no doubt in Rudys 
mind that Gash wasnt going to wait much longer before he sent the Stompers out 
in full force to find him, and when they did, Gash was going to wail on him 
until there wasnt enough left to scrape off the bottom of a shoe.
So Rudy had no choice but to succeed.
And he would, he knew that now.
The redheaded bitch was doing some kind of job for that twisty-crip at the 
carnival.
The two of them had spent an awful lot of time alone in that tent out behind the 
carnival grounds, so theyd either been planning what they were going to do, or 
theyd been screwingand judging by Twisty-Crips crutches and humpty-dumpty 
back, he probably wouldnt survive a bout in bed with the likes of her.
Rudy almost laughed to himself, wondering if Twisty-Crip knew he was making eyes 
at a robot.
He did laugh at the idea that maybe DocScrap was some kind of techno-pimp 
running a robotic whorehouse.
Oh, man, would that be funny!
Rudy squatted down in the doorway and watched the Docs building.
Awful lot of lights on in there for this hour.
And shadows moving past windows every few minutes.
Awful lot of walking around.
Something was definitely going on.
He thought back to the snippet of conversation hed overheard between the bitch 
and Twisty-Crip before hed left the carnival.
Rudy wondered if he shouldve just dusted her right then and there; after all, 
hed managed to track down an electron gun, as well as some extra clips for his 
regular guns.
Too bad hed had to dust that shopkeeper, but the dude had to learn that there 
were consequences when you didnt go along with a Stomper.
Itd made him sick, seeing that bitch and Twisty-Crip hug each other like they 
were both normal human beings. He was lucky he didnt puke, there behind the 
ticket booth.
Ill miss you, TC had said to the bitch.
Dont worry, the bitch had replied. Ill be back here at six sharp tomorrow 
night.
With the whole team?
With the whole team. Maybe even my bosshe doesnt get out to many of these.
Tell him I can get a whole roll of freebie tickets for him.
I will.
Then TC kissed the bitch and Rudy had to look away.
Cripples and robots.
Take em all out and the world would be a better place.
Maybe hed do just that tomorrow night; dust TC and the bitch together before he 
took care of DocScrap. Didnt matter if he went with the rest of them or not.
One way or the other, Rudyd get to him.
And there was going to be Wreckage.
Like no one could imagine
63
It took the I-Bots an hour to construct the mock-up of Prestons lower floor, 
another thirty minutes to go over the notes and blueprints (making only two 
small revisions to the plan), then five minutes to do their first run-through.
Not bad for the first run, said Psy-4, clicking off his stopwatch. 
Four-fifty-seven.
But? asked Killaine.
ButI want it down to a solid three minutes from the time we come through the 
doors.
Three minutes? exclaimed Radiant. That doesnt leave a lot of time for any 
variables.
Thats because Im not allotting any time for variables. Radiant and I will be 
the first ones to reach the target area. If Stoners calculations are correct, 
the Catherine Wheel program will have already been running for at least two 
minuteswere sending it through Roy to Prestons system disguised as a virus 
warning. Roy will receive it just as the final comparison stage of the D and D 
is beginning. That means if were all in place within three minutes, Prestons 
system will just be starting to get confused by the CW program when we enter the 
mainframe area. Itll continue to run for another sixty seconds before it 
freezes.
Thats when we disconnect Roy and make the transfer. It has to be perfect, 
people. And I mean flawless. So I will not be figuring in any variables.
It took a moment for the implication of that to register.
So if we encounter any physical resistance? asked Itazura.
Counter with greater physical force.
So youre telling me that if we turn a corner and run smack into a group of 
guards headed home after their shift is finished, we just terminate them?
No. First of all, going by the personnel schedule, there shouldnt be anyone in 
these corridors during the three-minute period weve targeted; secondly, if 
there is anyone in the corridors, well have the element of surprise, so it 
should be easy to knock them out for a decent length of time.
Itazura nodded his head. Thats very neat reasoning, and its probably correct, 
but Id like an answer, Psy-4: Are you telling me that if we have to choose 
between killing someone and losing five seconds, that we
protect the timetable at all costs, yes.
They stared at him.
No arguments, people. I didnt come to this decision lightly. I checked the 
work schedules for PTSI going back a year, at least, and I compared the schedule 
with the layout, then I compared the layout with all employees areaslocker 
rooms, break lounges, parking lotsIm telling you: There is absolutely no 
reason why we should encounter anyone in those corridors during those three 
minutes. He looked back at Itazura. Thats the best I can do, Itzy. Take it or 
leave it.
Itazura stared at Psy-4 for several tense, silent moments. Im with you, 
Psy-4.
Good. Anyone else have doubts theyd care to voice?
No one did.
Psy-4 set the stopwatch at 00:00:00. All right, then; lets run this again.
Four minutes flat the second time.
Three-forty on third run-through.
By the fifth try they had it down to three solid.
Outstanding, said Psy-4, setting the stopwatch. Now lets see if we can keep 
at three another two go-rounds.
Not only did they keep it at three, but during the last run-through, they 
managed to shave two more seconds off the time.
Its not going to get any better than that, said Psy-4, smiling.
Youre going to make us do it again, arent you? asked Killaine.
Im going to make us do it three more times.
Then will you be happy?
Then Ill be happy.
By the time it was over, Psy-4 was happy.
Were still going to run it a couple of times more tomorrow night after we get 
back from the carnival assignment, he said.
Speaking of, said Killaine. I need to know which two of you want to pose as 
crooks.
Itazura was the first to raise his hand. If ever there was a role I was born to 
play
I figured, said Killaine.
The second volunteer surprised her.
Psy-4?
He shrugged. All of you are always telling me I need to lighten up. This sounds 
like fun.
I think Im having a stroke, said Itazura.
Killaine rose to her feet and waved them on. Come on, then. Ive got a lot to 
teach you tonight.
Like what? asked Psy-4.
Yes or no: Do you know what any of the following terms mean? Poster Joint, 
African Dip, Cigarette Bill, Gigger, Fixer, Grind Store, Emby, Flash Cloth, Duke 
Shot.
Itazura shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. Is this a trick question?
Psy-4 wrinkled his brow. Duke Dip, Cigarette Clothwhat?
Ive got a long night ahead of me, sighed Killaine. Come on, you two. Now, 
first off, youll be posing as sticks. A stick is a person who pretends to be 
a big winner at a flat store game in order to
Whats a flat store? asked Psy-4.
And they disappeared up the stairs as Killaine explained it to them.
Stonewall looked over at Radiant, then at Singer. Anyone up for some canasta?
Pokers more my game, said Radiant.
Zac would make it four, signed Singer. Im a heck of a bridge player.
Stonewall nodded. Youre right; we need to look over the Catherine Wheel 
program again.
Radiant giggled. Ask a stupid question
If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it? said 
Stonewall.
Radiant turned toward him.
He shrugged. You said to ask a stupid question.
Now youre making jokes. Am I the only one whos worried about the way weve 
all started to behave? Nodont answer that. Lets go do that computer voodoo 
that you do so well.
64
Annabelle rolled over in her bed and looked at the clock.
2:37 A.M.
Shed been trying to get to sleep since midnight, only managing to drop off in 
five- and ten-minute increments.
2:47 A.M.
She knew it was useless and so rose in the darkness to find her two cats 
sleeping on either side of her head; Tasha, the oldest, a Siamese, was curled 
into a soft, gray, warm ball, her breath slow, shallow, and blessedly relaxed; 
Annabelles second cat, respectfully addressed as the Winnie, was sprawled out 
like a massive spill of black ink, her generous tummy flopping to the right 
while the rest of her sleeping form edged to the left. Girth made the Winnies 
naps an event to watch; if she wasnt careful, sometimes shed forget just how 
large she was, then roll over close to the edge of the bed, thinking she had 
more room, and her tummy would pull her over the edge. On more than one night 
Annabelle had collapsed into paroxysms of laughter when the Winnie suddenly 
found herself wrenched from sleep to discover she was in the midst of a tumble. 
To Annabelle, there were few things more genuinely funny that the sight of a 
startled cat.
So she reached over, very quietly, and turned on the bedside light, then picked 
up one of her pillows and slammed it down on the bed, shouting, Everybody up!
Both cats jumped at least six inches into the air, landing on their feet with 
ears pulled back and wide eyes looking so very, very confused: Are you insane? 
Cant you see that we were sleeping, for goodness sake!
Annabelle thought the sight would make her laugh, but it didnt.
She just felt bad.
She reached over and began petting them. Sorry, kids, didnt mean to scare 
youbut if Mommy doesnt sleep, no one else does. Those are the rules.
They followed her downstairs and into the kitchen where they plopped themselves 
down in front of their food and water dishes: Okay, youre sorry, we forgive 
you. Now feed us.
Annabelle complied, then sat at the table watching them eat.
Before hed gotten sick, Roy had been so fond of the cats, especially the way 
the Winnie would climb up his chest and start licking his nose when he was 
laying down.
She got a fresh pack of cigarettes from the pantry and lit up, drawing in a 
long, deep drag that she could almost feel in the bottoms of her feet.
On nights like this, she swore she could hear the cancer cells applauding.
Cancer.
Preston.
She crushed the cigarette out violently, stared at the wisps of smoke curling in 
the air, and immediately lit another one.
She didnt like this, not one bit.
Janus was out there with Simmons and two other operatives doing heaven-only-knew 
what, and she had to sit around waiting.
Annabelle Donohoe did not-repeat notenjoy waiting.
Especially in the darkthat both figurative and actual.
A couple of days, Janus had said. It had only been thirty-six hours since their 
last conversation, and already Annabelle was so anxious it was costing her 
sleep, and that meant baggy eyes in the morning, and there was no way in hell 
that shed let anyone see her looking less than totally in control.
She pulled in another drag of the cigarette and felt the cats rubbing up against 
her legs.
She reached down and began petting one of them, not looking to see which cat it 
was.
She stared at a spot on the wall, justthinking.
She made a decision, then reached over, picked up the kitchen cell phone, and 
hit a speed-dial number.
Yes, Ms. Donohoe? said Gardner, the Assistant Chief of Security.
Have a car sent for me in two hours and have the plane ready to take off at 
six-thirty.
Yes, maam.
Any word from Simmons yet?
No, maam.
Annabelle bit her lower lip. Okay, she could understand Janus not checking 
inshe didnt like it, but she understood itbut the fact that Simmons hadnt 
even called Gardner worried her.
And if there was one thing she hated more than waiting, it was worrying.
Ms. Donohoe? said Gardner.
Annabelle realized that shed been sitting there in silence for nearly a minute.
Tell you what, Gardner, she said, rubbing her eyes, lets push it back. Have 
the car here at seven, the plane ready to leave by eight.
Yes, maam,
If Simmons contacts you, put him on hold and call me at once.
Yes, maam.
She hung up, crushed out her cigarette, and looked at the cats, smiling. Well, 
I think I might be able to sleep now, she said to them in a singsong voice that 
she used only for them.
Only for them now.
Cmon, she sang and headed back up to bed.
Tasha and the Winnie soared past her and up the stairs, reclaiming their 
previous positions by the time she arrived.
Annabelle felt relaxed now, knowing that she was going to be assuming control of 
the situation very soon.
She fell asleep almost at once, and did not dream.
65
In the still, quiet hours of the night, after all the plans had been rehashed 
and Killaine was satisfied that Psy-4 and Itazura knew their carny slang and 
gigging techniques, Psy-4 went into the control room, closed the door behind 
him, went online, and telepathed with Roy once again.
The courtyard surrounding the cage was deserted.
Only a few creatures remained around Roys cage now, and they were slowly being 
broken down into particles of information and absorbed into the dark titan 
behind them.
The titan seemed to be sleeping or meditating.
Psy-4 went up to Roys cage and saw that the childs form had changed. Roy was 
no longer a sculpted head but a full-formed child, deathly pale, naked, lacking 
any genitalia. His face was a smooth, empty, oval, save for his left eye.
He lay on his back, holding one of his hands in front of his face.
Psy-4 watched in silence.
Roy turned his hand a little to the left, then to the right.
Very slowly.
Psy-4 knew it would be no use speaking to him; he was too weak.
Roy pulled his hand closer to his face, then turned it to the right again, and 
only then did Psy-4 realize what the child was doing.
He was playing with the light.
Despite its seeming slumber, the titan was emitting a soft bluish light from 
deep in its core. The glow reached all the way over to the cage and was broken 
into solid beams by the bars. Roy was using the fingers of his hand to break up 
the light even more so that it made indiscernible shapes only he seemed able to 
identify.
Psy-4 pushed one of his hands through the bars and touched Roys forehead, 
passing the child the initiation sequence for the Catherine Wheel program.
To Psy-4s surprise, Roy reached over and touched his hand.
You came back.
I said I would.
I dont feel so good.
I know, but youll be asleep soon, and when you wake up Ill be right by your 
side, watching over you.
Promise?
Yes. The next time you see me, youll be just fine, and you wont be in this 
awful place anymore.
Okay
I have to go now, Roy, but you sleep, all right? Everything will be all right.
Thank you for letting me smell the grass.
Youre welcome. When you wake up, Ill show you all about the carnival.
Cotton candy and the merry-go-round?
Yes.
Well have fun?
You bet.
Psy-4 touched the boys cheek, sickened by how cold Roy felt.
See you soon, Roy.
Kay. I go sleep now.
Yes, sleep. Youll be safe soon. Good-night.
Night, Daddy
When Psy-4 broke from the trance, he wasnt at all surprised to find tears in 
his eyes.
66
Killaine was down in the garage bay making a last check of the reinforced doors 
and thinking about tomorrows assignment when she became acutely aware of 
another presence.
She turned slowly to see Singer sitting amongst the empty crates they used to 
move their lab equipment.
His photoelectric eyes looked at her, and he gave a small, apologetic wave.
Maybe it was because of the quietness, the stillness of the hour; maybe it was 
because, though she knew she should power-down and rest, her thoughts were 
coming too fast for her to fend them off; and maybe it was because, having 
experienced feelings during the last eighteen hours she thought would never be 
hers to explore, she had come to realize something that shed always known but 
would never admit to anyoneincluding herself: She was lonely.
She thought it odd, that even a creation like her could feel such an 
overwhelming sense of need for a person she barely knew. In the hours since 
shed said good-bye to Danny, shed felt as if a part of her was missing and 
wouldnt be made whole until she saw him again.
Killaine did not trust easily, and had never trusted another human being besides 
Zachary, but something about Danny was just so warm, so open and honest and 
unpretentious, that within one hour of their first meeting she felt as if theyd 
known each other all their lives.
Besides, she considered herself a faultless judge of character.
She now understood what Radiant meant when she spoke of her deepest feelings, 
and it frightened her. These feelings, grand and dizzying though they were, made 
her vulnerable, and Killaine had always thought of herself as a warrior and 
protector.
Itazura laughingly called her the mother figure of the group, and though shed 
never let on to him, it made her feel somewhat plain and undesirable.
She was pulled from her reverie by Singers trying to rise and make his way out 
of the garage.
No, dont! she snapped. Then, much gentler: Dont go. Please?
I didn t mean to disturb you, signed the robot, sitting back down. I thought no 
one would come down here tonight.
So youre sitting here in the dark all by yourself?
Singer shrugged. Killaine came over, pulled up a crate, and sat down in front of 
him. I suppose its quiet down here, isnt it?
Yes.
She could sense his anxiety. Dont worry, Singer, Im not going toto be mean. 
And I want to apologize for
You dont owe me any apologies. I understand that my presence here must be an 
annoyance.
Youve been a tremendous help to us, Singer.
I am simply following my programming. I help whomever needs it. Thats my 
function.
Not quite.
Im sorry, I dont understand.
Robots in your line were designed to carry out orders, Singer; no one ordered 
you to assist us earlier-you volunteered.
Because I am with all of you right now, and you needed assistance. When you 
leave, I will find someone else who needs my help.
Killaine started to speak, sat back, and closed her mouth.
Until this moment, she hadnt given a thought to what would happen to Singer 
once they left here. Shed come to view him like most people would view a stray 
neighborhood cat that comes around to beg food at the back door three times a 
week; he was a fixture in their life, though not an actual part of it.
Have you no affection for us, Singer?
Of course. I like all of you very much. You understand what its like to have no 
real place in the world of humankind.
Do you think of us as human?
Most of the time, yes. Your skin makes a convincing mask. I envy you the luxury 
of being able to go out amongst the humans and blend in. I often wish I could.
Killaine stared at him.
Hed just shared a secret with her.
And after the way shed treated him all the months theyd been based here.
Tell me, Singer, are youare you lonely?
No, you are here with me.
Thats sweet, but I didnt mean are you alone. I meant lonely.
I wish for a friend, yes.
What about the other Scrappersum, the other robots?
We are not robots. We were, once, long ago. Now we are merely machines left to 
rust and run down. Once, we were robots; now we are only animated scrap heaps, 
each and every one of us. We are Scrappers. That is how we must think of 
ourselves in order to survive.
The matter-of-fact manner in which hed signed those words made something in 
Killaines chest ache ever so slightly.
You didnt answer my question, Singer: Have you no friends among the others?
Not really. I am the gofer of the camp. If we need help, I gofer Zac. If we need 
small parts that can be scrounged from trash bins behind electronic stores, I 
gofer them. If I spot Stompers in the area, I gofer the alarm to warn the 
others. I serve my function, which is all I am to the others, and perhaps that 
is for the best.
Why do you say that?
Because our days are numbered, Killaine. Many of us were outmoded the same week 
we came off the assembly line. Time was, we were a wonder to humankind, the 
culmination of its dreams of merging the mechanical with the humanistic in order 
to form the basis for a more enlightened and advanced society. Out we marched 
from the factories, and the people stared in awe at our forms, our strength, the 
shininess of our silver and gold plating, and they said to themselves, This is 
a most wondrous thing we have created. Then they put us to work alongside them, 
and soon became alienated by our cold, silent, exacting manner. They still seem 
too much like machines, they said to our creators, and so many were given the 
ability of speech, but even this wasnt enough. They still seem so mechanical, 
they complained to our creators. Not like a human, at all. Look at me, look at 
any of us: We were smelt and cast in the image of man so that he could look at 
us and see what he thought of as being good and wise and visionary in himself.
So our creators rebuilt us again, programming us for affection, only this time 
we seemed too human. They frighten us, the people cried. They adjust like us, 
they tell us they want to be our friends! This will not do. But it was too late 
then, there were too many of us to recall; industry and the military and the 
scientific community depended too much on our labors. So those of us who were 
outmoded by the latest fad in robotics were herded into the camps to look at 
what had become of the wonder we were once, long ago. Those were terrible days, 
in the camps.
No one knew what to do with us. Such was the weight of our existence on their 
consciences that the day came they could no longer look at us, and so they flung 
open wide the gates and said, The time has come for you to go forth, not 
knowing or caring what would be fall us. And so our second march into the world 
began, this time from the camp gates instead of the factory doors. This time 
there were no cheers, no gasps of wonder, no looks of awe. There was only empty 
night where the promise had once been, and those humans who looked upon us now 
did so with either contempt or pity, forgetting that we were programmed to want 
their friendship, to want a place in the world, to want our lives to have a 
purpose.
He gestured at himself. All hail the conquering trash-compactor, lawn mower, 
free field laborer. Then he pointed at Killaine. Treasure and protect the 
miracle of your flesh, even if much of you is synthetic in nature. Though you 
are not a human, you will always be seen as one. The components beneath your 
surface are hidden from their frightened eyes, and so youll always know the 
mystery of acceptance among the humans.
Do you have any idea, whispered Killaine, barely able to find her voice, how 
alien we truly are?
I know how alien you think you truly are.
What do you mean by that?
Your friend from the carnival, Mr. Morgan, he wears metal braces on his legs?
Yes.
Could he function without them on his legs or the brace on his back?
I dont think so, no.
So he is, by nature, be it accidental or not, partly a mechanical man.
I didnt think of it like that. Im not sure I agree with
One man has a metal plate in his head from the war, a woman has several pins 
holding her hip together, a child born without legs wears artificial 
attachments; arent they partly mechanical people?
I suppose, but
But whos to say that? Think about it: If you define a human being as flesh and 
blood and bone, as one who is wholly organic in its makeup, then there are very 
few whole humans out there. Take false teeth, for instance. Does that cluster of 
foreign matter shaped into an upper palette make them no longer whole? Does a 
prosthetic limb make you less a human being? Does a pacemaker in a persons 
chest make him more robotic? Where do you draw the line that says, After this, 
you will no longer be mostly human ? Do you think a person who lives their 
entire life with an iron lung feels less alien than you do simply because 
theyre wholly human and youre not?
This is starting to sound like a lecture, Singer.
He dropped his head. Youre right. Im very sorry.
Hey, said Killaine, reaching over and touching one of his hands, after some 
of the things Ive said to you, youre entitled.
I am very happy that you and your Mr. Morgan have feelings for one another. But 
I am also envious, and I dont much care for that.
Why?
Because I like youI like all of youand the last time I felt such affection for 
anyone, it ended very badly.
Killaine scooted closer. Where did you come from, Singer? Dont look 
awayplease, tell me.
Why do you wish to know?
Because youve been so nice to us all the time weve been here, because youre 
a better cook than I am and Im hoping to steal a few of your recipes, 
becausebecause I think that, tonight, Ive finally figured out how you must 
feel and I dont want you to feel that way anymore. Because I want us to be 
friends before its too late.
I take it, then, that youre also worried about Sunday morning?
Yes, but not as much as Psy-4. He feels responsible for whats happened, but he 
wont admit it.
Hes very proud.
I Killaine laughed softly. Thats not necessarily a good thingbut youre 
changing the subject: What did you do before you were put in a camp? I was not 
put in a camp. I went into one of my own accord.
You turned yourself in?
It seemed the thing to do after the school was destroyed.
School?
Singer nodded. When I first came off the line and it was discovered that my 
voice circuitry had been improperly installed, the engineers were ready to make 
the repairs but a woman who was there that day insisted on taking me as I was.
Do you remember the womans name?
I never heard it used in my presence. She was a respected and celebrated 
robopsychologist. She was touring the facility with one of her assistants, 
Lucinda. Lucinda had a sister who ran a school for handicapped children. The 
deaf, dumb, blind, crippled. The two had heard of my imperfection and decided I 
was perfect for a minor experiment; to be the first robot of my model to be 
trained exclusively for working with the handicapped.
I found both of them to be quite brilliant and extremely decent toward me. I was 
taken to a lab where Lucinda completely removed the voice circuitry, rendering 
me speechless, then reprogrammed me for using American Sign Language.
Singer held up his hands. I dont care what anyone says, be it mechanical or 
human, the design of the hand is, to me, one of evolution s great gifts. To 
think that I actually speak with these boggles the mind! Just between us, 
Killaine, I think the hands are the most alluring part of the anatomy. I love to 
look at peoples hands. Thats why I despise winternot because of the cold, 
that doesnt bother me in the leastbut because people wear gloves in winter and 
I cannot see their hands. Gloves are an obscenity.
The robopsychologist was very pleased with how I took to the new programming. 
She and Lucinda hadnt been at all certain that my brain would assimilate the 
new information right away, but it did, and we were able to quickly advance from 
the basic programming to more advanced techniques of signing. Lucinda thought it 
best that I be taught everything beyond the basics, rather than have it 
programmed into me. A wise woman, Lucinda. She knew it was important for me to 
know how difficult it was to learn this new language, so I would make a better 
teacher.
Oh, yes, I taught sign language to the mute and deaf pupils at the school. The 
children there treated me at first as a curiositythat much I had expected. But 
as time went on, they accepted me as one of them. It became my home. Oh, Lucinda 
would drop in from time to time to see how things were working out with me. She 
would interview me, other members of the staff, the children and parents.
It was easily the happiest time of my life. I was able to watch the children 
learn and grownot just physically, but emotionally and intellectually, as well. 
Its quite a wonder, seeing a child grow into a young adultnot only that, but 
learn how to take their handicap and, with training and compassion, turn it into 
an asset. So many of them thanked me before they transferred on to the 
habilitation and work-training schools.
I remember one young girl in particular. Regina, her name was. She was blind, 
and much older than many of the students. Because of her being older, she was 
quickly trained to assist with the much younger blind students. Regina taught me 
how to read braille. Every day she would have story hour for the blind and deaf 
children. As she read from the storybooks, I would translate the words into sign 
language. We became very close.
Then came the day when we first heard of the legislation that outlawed the use 
of robots with children. It seemed that some adults, for whatever sad, sick 
reasons drive that sort of person, had found ways to trick robots into putting 
children in danger. I knew then that my days at the school were numbered, but I 
never in my darkest imaginings could have predicted what would happen.
Stompers began roaming the area. They were even more crude and less organized 
than they are todayif you can picture thatbut were by no means less brutal. 
The staff was very careful to keep me out of sight during the day, assigning me 
rooms with very small or no windows at all. Regina moved story hour inside so I 
could still participate. I hated that. I knew how much the children enjoyed 
conducting story hour out on the lush green grounds of the school, under the 
massive old oak tree. But they didnt seem to mindor if they did, they were 
careful to conceal it from me in order to spare my feelings.
Finally, the Robot/Child legislation passed, and the school received 
notification that I was to be delivered to the nearest recycling facility 
within ten days. Everyone was genuinely sad, and it touched me deeply.
I remember that last, terrible day. The children had all gone home, many of them 
stopping to hug me and tell me how much they were going to miss me. I found 
myself wishing that Id possessed the capability to tell a small lie to them, to 
say, Dont worry, Ill write to all of you here at the school. It would have 
made them feel better. They would have forgotten about that promise, eventually, 
as well as the machine that made it. But their pain was so evident on that last 
day and there was nothing I could say or do to lessen it. Helplessness is an 
awful thing, Killaine.
I went looking for Regina, but she was nowhere in the building. It was getting 
near the time I was scheduled to leave for the camp, so, figuring I had nothing 
to lose, I made a very foolish mistake: I went outside looking for her.
She was sitting there beneath the oak tree, a pale and musing blind girl beneath 
a canopy of fiery green leaves. She looked so lost, so hopeless and sad. And I 
remember as I approached her all that wed been through together, the good and 
the bad; her leading the other blind children around, all of them laughing like 
circus people during a time of pestilence, or her helping them with their 
schoolwork, orlike the eldest child in a familydeciding on the punishment when 
one of them misbehaved. When I arrived by her side she told me she was listening 
to and smelling the wind. She spoke very softly, and her words came out in that 
shyly poetic way in which so many adolescent girls speak until their hearts get 
broken for the first time and the poetry leaves them.
We talked of all the games we used to play with children and of all the stories 
wed shared with them, and as we spoke of them, she took hold of my hand and for 
a moment I swore I could hear the ghost of those many years laughter, rolling 
through me like a soft wind across the waters in autumn.
At last she told me to sit down, she had one last story she wanted to share with 
me. Its my favorite story in all the world, she said. It always makes me 
think of you.
Its an odd feeling for a robot, Killaine, to realize that you are loved by a 
human being.
Do you remember the story?
Singer nodded and reached into a pouch attached to his side. From it he removed 
a small, tattered, aged book. Killaine saw that some of the pages were missing 
toward the end and that the edges were slightly scorched.
Singer gently handed it to her.
Is this it? Is this hers?
Yes.
Killaine began to read the tale to herself. It was about a young girl who lost 
her family during a Great Revolution and so had to flee to live with distant 
relatives in a far land. The relatives were very poor themselves, and the girl 
knew that her living with them would be a great burden, but they could not turn 
her away. At first, the girl was treated with cold indifference-few of them I 
even bothered to ask her name-but as time went on, they came to depend on the 
small kindnesses and courtesies she bestowed upon them: the fire that waited for 
them every morning, the clean shoes, the orderly house. So they began to show 
her courtesy in return. Then came the day that one of them asked the girl her 
name. I cannot recall it, she replied. It has been so long since any 
addressed me. Many of the relatives blamed this on the horrors she had suffered 
during the Great Revolution and the shock of seeing her family slaughtered 
before her young eyes. And so they began to discuss among themselves a suitable 
name for the girl. During this time, a man came to see the girl, an official 
from her former country who had traced her whereabouts. He told her that it was 
discovered her late father had assets in mining in the Dark Continent and that a 
great motherlode had been struck. He presented her with a great deal of money, 
offered his congratulations at her good fortune, and left. The girl immediately 
made out a long list of items she would need from town and set about 
preparations for a great feastfor her new family had never known what it was 
like to enjoy a fine meal, accustomed as they were to simple dishes of potatoes 
and bread, with the occasional bit of old beef or pig. And while she set about 
her preparations, the family continued to argue over what name to give her.
Here, the book ended, having been burned away by flames or shredded in some 
terrible accident. Killaine closed it and gave it back to Singer. What happened 
to her?
The girl in the story?
No, Regina.
As she sat reading that story to me, a large band of Stompers on the road 
spotted me. I tried to get back to the school, to disappear in the safety of the 
cellars, but they were too fast on their feet and Regina refused to be 
intimidated by them. She gave the book to me and told me to run, then pulled a 
pistol from the pocket of her dress. I dont know how it happened, but we tore 
the book in half when she handed it to me. But I couldnt leave her to face the 
Stompers. I stood before her and told her to run back to the school. No, she 
cried at me. You are forbidden to hurt them! She was a very strong-willed one, 
that girl. I tried to get between her and the Stompers, to be an obstacle and 
nothing more, but there were too many of them. They fell on me with clubs and 
iron pipes, and when they were done, they threw me through a window into the 
deepest part of the school basement. All the time I scrambled around trying to 
find a way out, I could hear Regina screaming at them. I could hear the doors 
being smashed open, the cries of the staff.
They set fire to the building and killed all of the staff. When at last I was 
able to pull myself from the smoldering wreckage, I found Regina, dead, out on 
the grounds. She had been trying to crawl back in the direction of the oak tree. 
They had beaten her severely, then raped her repeatedly. Then one of them cut 
her throats I could see the trail of blood leading from where theyd left her to 
where I found her.
I buried her under the oak tree. I searched for several days for the second part 
of her book but could not find it. Then I decided it was best for me to turn 
myself into one of the camps. If I had not been so foolish as to go outside, 
that school would still be standing, and Regina would be alive today.
That is why it frightens me that I have come to like all of you so very much, 
Killaine. One way or another, I will lose you sometime. The day will come when, 
by choice or circumstance, the six of you will leave this place.
He looked away from her.
Killaine tapped his shoulder.
He faced her again.
I am familiar with that story, she said. Its a very old fable, oft-told.
Do you know how it ends?
Yes, I do.
You must tell me the ending sometime.
Would you like to hear it now?
Singer thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. No.
Why not? If youve wondered for so long how the tale concludes, then why 
dont
Because it gives me something to look forward to. Can you understand that? I 
find that, more and more these days, I have less to look forward to. You have 
given me something to anticipate, and that is more than Ive had for a long 
time. Thank you for that, Killaine, for being so kind and listening to me.
II had no idea, she said to him. Im ashamed to say that I never thought of 
you, of a robot, as one who feels things the way I do.
No reason you should have. You need not feel bad about it.
Thank you, Singer.
For what?
For trusting me enough to confide those things.
I want us to befriends, as well. Before its too late.
Killaine reached out and placed one of her hands against his cheek. We are 
friends now, Singer.
I am honored.
No, no, the honor is mine. You are a pure spirit, Singer, and I feel privileged 
to know you. She rose, then, and left him to his privacy.
His movements made a sound. She turned.
Good-night, friend Killaine.
Good-night, friend Singer.
And, as absurd as it seemed, she could have sworn that she saw a smile in his 
photoelectric eyes.
67
Morgan was awakened at 3:40 A.M. by the sound of someone knocking very softly on 
the door of his trailer. He fumbled up from the bed, called out, Be there in a 
minute! and proceeded to snap, strap, and latch on all the equipment he needed 
in order to answer the door.
The process took several minutes, and by the time he grabbed his crutches and 
stumbled to the door, he was surprised that whoever it was had waited so 
patiently for so long.
He snapped on a small thirty-watt light over the cramped kitchen so he could 
have a better look at who waited outside.
He opened the door, just a crack at first, then flung it open wide when he saw 
her there.
Karen!
Im sorry for waking you, said Killaine. But Imay I come in?
Morgan moved to the side to give her room. Its kinda cramped in here but, 
yeah, please.
Killaine entered and he closed the door behind her. Whats wrong?
What makes you think theres something wrong?
Its going on four in the morning. Most people dont make social calls at this 
hourthis is a social call, isnt it?
She smiled. Yes.
He grinned back at her. Sowhat brings you here?
I missed you.
He sighed loudly, his shoulders slumping as the tension in them dropped to the 
floor. Really? I missed you, too.
They met each other halfway, embracing tightly.
Morgans crutches tumbled to either side of him and he began to lose his 
balance, but Killaine held him firm.
Shhh, its all right, she whispered in his ear. Ive got you.
You sure do, he replied.
She led him back over to the fold-out bed and helped him to lie down, then 
gently lay next to him.
Morgan, using his elbows to propel him, moved closer to her, and she put an arm 
around his shoulders.
Ive never had such asuch a lovely female visitor before.
But you have had female visitors?
He kissed her cheek. A fewnot the type youd exactly refer to as ladies. 
Working girls, is more like it. When Killaine looked at him, he shrugged in 
her arms and said, I get lonely sometimes, and the girls are nice enough about 
it, and Ive gotIve got a fairly decent amount of money tucked away, so I can 
afford their rates. That doesnt disgust you, does it?
No, said Killaine. It makes me a little sad, but I dont think you could ever 
do anything to disgust me.
It means a lot to me, your being here.
I havent been able to stop thinking about you.
Ive been thinking about you, too.
I feel better now, being here with you.
Like some part of you that you lost has been returned to you and youre whole 
again?
Yes!
Like you can breathe normally again?
Yes.
Like you could take on the world and emerge victorious?
Oh, yes.
Their lips came together in a soft, warm, moist, deeply satisfying kiss.
wow said Killaine, leaning her head back into the pillows.
Took the word right out of my mouth.
She smiled at him. Danny, listen, if youd like to
He placed a finger against her lips. Shhh. No. I mean, yes, Id like 
toeventually. But not now, not tonight. Its enough that youre here with me. 
Its more than enough. Any more than this and I would burst into flames from the 
joy. Do youdo you mind that I dont want us toto, uh?
No, she said, kissing him again. This is what I wanted, too.
They pulled one another closer.
They kissed again.
And again.
And one more time again.
There was passion between them, but it was not as strong as their need to show 
tenderness to each other, for there are times when tenderness and closeness are 
the most sensual things of all, so they lay there, kissing, whispering of their 
hopes and dreams, nestled safely in one anothers arms, becoming more complete.
Toward dawn, they fell asleep.
But in sleep, neither turned away from the other.
 
As the sun peeked over the horizon and slowly poured its first diffuse beams 
down onto the land, Killaine awoke, kissed Morgans forehead, and gently climbed 
from the bed so as not to wake him. She covered him with the sheet, brushed some 
hair from his eyes, and kissed his cheek.
She stood back and stared at him, and she would have been content to remain that 
way for the rest of eternity.
Strange, she thought, how these feelings work, how quickly and powerfully they 
can consume you.
She brushed some hair from her eyes and watched Morgans sleeping form.
Odd.
How sometimes you see the soul and just fall in love.
And cant do anything about it.
She left a note for him before she left: The world wants to know our secret, but 
we must keep it hidden, for the rest of them would be consumed by the thousand 
secret flames.
Then, quietly closing the door behind her, she checked her watch and figured 
that, if she ran, she had just enough time to get back to the warehouse and 
start breakfast before anyone else got up and realized she was gone.
And so, looking around to make sure no one could see her, she took off at nearly 
full speedsixty miles per hour.
A woman in love can move fast when she has to.
 
From the safety of his closed booth, the man Morgan had introduced to Killaine 
as Herbert watched her exit Morgans trailer, check her watch, then rocket 
forward at inhuman speed.
He nodded his head quietly, staring at Morgans trailer.
Then smiled to himself in the early-morning shadows.
It was not a pleasant smile.
Not pleasant at all
68
The day passed all too quickly at the warehouse. There were many preparations to 
make; not only for tonights assignment, but for tomorrow mornings PTSI raid.
More than once, the I-Bots had to make quick (sometimes very weak) excuses to 
Zac for something he thought he overheard or saw.
If he was still suspicious that they were lying to him, he gave no sign of it.
Until, around four P.M., as Killaine and Singer were tidying up after a very 
late lunch, Zac came into the kitchen and said, I think Ill come along with 
you three to the carnival tonight.
Why? asked Killaine. Idont misunderstand, Zachary, I think youll have a 
fine time there, and heaven knows youve earned a night out for yourself, but
Zac held up a hand, silencing her. Im not completely dim, Killaine. I know 
theres something going on between everyone that you dont want to tell me 
about. Thats fine, you are entitled to your privacy. But all day now everyones 
practically jumped out of their skin every time I said hello or walked into the 
room. Hell, youve all got me so rattled at this point Im half afraid to use 
the can for fear I might upset one of you.
Tisnt that way at all, Zachary, its just that
Spare me, Killaine, okay? Ive now heard five variations on three different 
stories. Im only grateful that Singer cant speakno offense intended
None taken.
or else hed be blowing smoke up my backside along with everyone else.
You sound angry.
Only a bit annoyed. I actually bought the birthday present story for a while, 
but its become increasingly obvious that whatevers going on between you five
Singer raised his hand and looked at the floor.
okay, whatevers going on between you six hasnt got diddley-squat to do with 
my birthday and is fairly serious. I wont push it for now, but you make sure 
that everyone knows that, when we get back tonight, theres a family meeting in 
the living area. I want some straight answers, Killaine, and, like it or not, 
Ill have them.
69
The carnival at night:
Wood shavings and sawdust that cling to the bottoms of shoes, neon signs that 
cast ghosts of random light from each booth, the colors blending to give the 
midway the mysterious glow of a dawn sky in another world, clusters of people 
moving by, some of them couples holding hands and kissing, some of them families 
looking harried but content nonetheless, all of them looking in the same 
direction when they hear the cry of a We have a winner! from one of the game 
booths, followed by the ringing of a bell, then there are the children with 
their clown-painted faces and wide eyes glittering against the lights, smiling 
as theyve never smiled before, the epitome of joy and innocence and wonder, as 
a childs face at a carnival should be, excited voices underscored by squeals of 
laughter in the distance and the thrumming music from a carousel. Take a deep 
breath, and theres the cotton candy, the popcorn, the scents of cigarettes and 
beer and taffy, damp earth, hot dogs, and countless exotic manures from the 
animals in the petting zoo. Look up, and you can see the giant Ferris wheel that 
stands in the center of it all, the lights decorating its spokes streaking 
around and around in the night like a whirling ribbon of stars come down to 
earth for just this night.
The air is warm, just slightly humid but not uncomfortably so.
The night is newly arrived, dark enough for the carny to rise from its depths 
like a phoenix.
One last hurrah before August bows to September, and summer fades away.
Carnival night.
Roll up, roll up, plunk down a quarter and try for a prize, take your sweetheart 
on a ride to the stars, lotsa room for the kiddies, yessir, no need to push, 
plenty of room, plenty of time, plenty of fun for everyone.
Roll up, roll up.
Its carny time.
 
Killaine parked the van at the farthest edge of the lot, a good quarter mile 
from the entrance gates. Okay, she said, turning around in the drivers seat 
to face everyone in back, remember, we go in at five-minute intervals. No one 
acknowledges that they know anyone else
I always knew you were embarrassed to be seen with me, muttered Itazura.
Killaine sighed, then continued. you know which booths to concentrate on?
Yes, replied Psy-4 and Itazura simultaneously.
And you know not to make your approach until after weve met back here in an 
hour?
Yes. Together again.
Have you got everything you
Yes! they snapped, then looked at each other and grinned.
I think, said Zac, that everyone wants to get in there and get started.
You go first, said Killaine. Ill follow in five minutes, then Itzy, then 
Psy-4.
Why do I have to go last? asked Psy-4.
I dont believe Im hearing this, said Zac.
All right, Itazura goes last. Killaine gave him a look that invited no 
arguments.
When do we get to meet your Mr. Morgan? asked Radiant, whod decided to come 
along at the last minute.
After weve nailed the flatties. Hes promised to treat us all to a nice meal 
at the feed camp.
Sounds like a grazing field for cows.
Killaine shook her head. Its the tented area where everyonecarnies and 
customers alikeeat their meals. Danny says that things can get pretty rowdy 
around here after the place closes for the night.
Zac nodded his head. So its Danny now, is it?
Killaine gave him an exasperated look, then asked, Any more questions?
Yes, said Radiant. Wheres his booth? Ah, come on, Im not officially part of 
the operation, so why cant I play some games?
Killaine grinned at her. His booths at the far end of the first branch in the 
midway, on the left. Its the one where you use a squirt gun to shoot in the 
clowns mouth.
Itazura began to say something, but Radiant slapped a hand over his mouth.
I look forward to seeing him, she said to Killaine. And dont worry, I wont 
let on that I know you.
Im gone, said Zac, climbing out of the van. Before he closed the door, he 
stuck his head in and looked at Radiant. Why dont we go in together? I feel a 
little awkward being alone at something like this.
Radiant put on her decorated half-mask-the one with the painted eyes-and 
fluttered her hand near her face. Why, suh she said in an overbaked Scarlett 
OHara imitation, I do believe you ah attemptin to take ad-van-tage of muh 
trustin nature!
Psy-4 and Itazura responded with soft but enthusiastic applause.
Bravo!
Encore!
Radiant took a small seated bow, then primly offered her hand to Zac. I would 
be honored if you would be my escort for the evening, sir.
This is going to be a long night, said Zac, grinning. I just know it.
 
Just beyond the farthest edge of the lot, Rudy watched the van.
Impatiently shifting his weight from foot to foot, he bit his lower lip and 
wondered what the hell was taking them so long.
Dammit, he thought, get out already!
He started to run a hand through his hair, then remembered that the dye hadnt 
quite dried yet.
Earlier that day, Rudy had used some of the money hed stolen last night to 
purchase a new jacket, a pair of scissors to cut his hair, a box of dye to 
bleach his hair white, and some childrens makeup to paint his face up like a 
clowns.
Usually, he would have just stolen what he needed, but hed made a pretty decent 
haul last night after dusting the old guy at the gun shopover five hundred 
dollarsand tonight was too important for him to chance getting arrested for 
something as wimpy as shoplifting.
Stillhe scanned the faces in the crowd and was relieved to see that his hunch 
had been right; not only were there a bunch of kids sporting clown faces, but 
several adults, as well.
No way was DocScrap or that redheaded bitch going to recognize him tonight.
No way.
He touched his light windbreaker and felt the reassuring presence of the pistols 
underneath.
Rudy had also thought to grab a pair of shoulder holsters from the gun shop. The 
one under his left arm held a silver-plated .357 Magnum Auto-Mag with a clip 
full of hollow-point bullets; the one under his right arm held the electron gun.
He had to make sure he was close enough to press the electron gun to the 
redheaded bitchs face. In order to fry the brain, you had to be dead-bang 
point-blank.
But, then, maybe hed just shoot her in the stomach and watch her suffer for a 
minute or two, thrash around like a fish flopping against the surface of a dock.
He smiled.
That might be kind of fun. Then hed
He jumped back behind a truck as the door of the van opened and DocScrap his own 
self climbed out, then leaned back in, said something, and came out with the 
tastiest looking piece of tail hanging on to his arm.
Rudy licked his lips and had to readjust his pants.
Man-o-man! was that one fine babe the old Doc had with him.
Turn to the side, thought Rudy. Gimme a little more of that profile.
Oh, yeah.
He shook away thoughts that really didnt want to be shaken away, then stared at 
the back of the Docs head as he and the Piece made their way toward the 
entrance.
You old perv, whispered Rudy. Designing your own little robo-slut.
He watched them stop at the gate, buy some tickets, then enter.
He came up from behind the truck and started after them, but then the van door 
opened again and the redheaded bitch climbed out.
He was too far from any cars to duck for cover, and if he took off shed see him 
and get suspicious and that was the last thing he needed, so
he shoved his hands into his pockets and just started walking, looking down at 
the ground, passing within six feet of the redheaded bitch.
She said something to someone in the van, then closed the door and started 
walking toward the entrance.
At one point, she was flanking Rudy.
He decided to try something.
He deliberately tripped, but quickly regained his balance, then looked over.
She was looking right at him.
Are you okay?
Uhyeah. Guess Im not too swift tonight.
She laughed, then went on.
Hot damn! She hadnt even recognized his voice!
Oh, this was going to be so, so sweet.
 
Radiant looked back at the kid whod tripped and smiled to herself. Guy was kind 
of cutefor a klutz. She thought about expanding her neuroreceptor range to see 
if the guy had thought she was cute, as well, but quickly dismissed the 
temptation. In crowded places like this, it was dangerous for her to widen her 
sensory range too far because she could quickly become overwhelmed by the 
constant tidal waves of neurobabble and psychic background noise issuing from 
everyones minds-not that it put her in any physical danger; it simply was 
likely to distract her, and she couldnt allow herself to be distracted tonight.
Besides (and Zac had lectured her enough on this point), random probing of 
another persons consciousness out of sheer curiosity was tantamount to 
psychological rape, even though the person wouldnt be aware of itso she 
decided to set her neuroreceptor range to ten feet in any direction and leave it 
at that.
And whether or not that cute kid had thought her attractive would just have to 
remain one of those sweet mysteries of life.
 
Daniel Morgan opened his booth, then checked his watch.
They ought to be arriving right about now.
He looked across the midway and saw Herbert smiling at him.
Dont look so smug, he thought. You dont know as much as you think you do.
He balanced himself on his arm-crutches and craned his head over the counter, 
trying to get a decent look at the entrance gate.
He couldnt see her.
Damn!
Okay, settle it down right now.
He bit his lower lip and was readying himself to take another look when a boy 
who couldnt have been more than five came running up to his booth, squealing, 
I wanna squirt water at the clown! Wanna squirt water at the clown!
Morgan was about to ask the kid where his mother was when a slightly overweight 
but definitely cute woman came up behind the child and said, Lawrence! I told 
you to wait for me!
I sorry, said Lawrence. But you took so long!
How much to play? asked his mother.
Fifty cents gets one full squirt gun, maam.
I got twelve dollars! said Lawrence. I been saving!
Morgan leaned down and said, Well, now, thats just fine, Lawrence, that youve 
been saving your money, but if I was you I wouldnt be yellin about how much I 
got, know what I mean?
Lawrence shrugged. I guess so. He looked hurt.
Morgan grabbed up a squirt gun and handed it to the boy. I wasnt scolding you, 
Lawrence, thats not my place- He looked at Lawrences mother and winked; she 
nodded in response. I just think a boy ought to keep how much money hes got a 
secret.
Kay, said the boy, digging into his pocket for money.
Sorry, Lawrence, but youre moneys no good here for the next fifteen minutes.
The boys eyes grew so wide they threatened to burst from the sockets. Really?
Why, sir, I never lie, not to a sharp-witted gentleman like yourself, nosir. 
Why, I can take one look at you and know that heres a man who knows the value 
of a dollar, by gosh, and he knows a bargain when he sees one
Lawrence and his mother were both laughing, and the sound was music to Morgans 
ears.
see there? he cried. Youre laughing because you can tell that youve got me 
rattled! Yes, indeed. And theres only one thing I can do when a customer so 
smart as you rattles me, and thats to tell them that their moneys no good here 
for the next fifteen minutes, so Ill just take that pistol away from youhe 
didand Ill be giving you the sharp customers sharp-shootinest-shooter that 
was ever sharply shot! With a flourish, he handed Lawrence a plastic rifle 
filled with water. Go on then, sir, take aim and see if you cant make the 
clowns tie burst! Win yourself any of the grand prizes you see hanging on the 
wall behind me.
The boys face glowed.
He looked the way Morgan was feeling inside at the moment, knowing that she was 
going to be here soon.
 
Rudy walked along the midway, keeping pace with DocScrap and the Piece, 
wondering how soon he should make his move.
He had a couple of options; he could wait until they were so wrapped up in 
whatever it was they came here to do (it was obvious even to Rudy that they were 
up to something more than just a night out) that there was no way theyd be 
expecting trouble, or he could hit them now, while things were just really 
shifting into high gear. The place was crowded enough, that was for damn sure, 
and he was close enough to make his move
whoa, hold the phone.
Rudy stopped dead in his tracks and knelt down as if about to tie his shoelaces.
Except he was wearing boots.
Had he remembered to bring the Cutter with him?
He knelt, made a pantomime of tying his nonexistent laces, and ran his right 
hand up the right side of his right boot, relieved to find that the sheath was 
indeed taped in place under his pant leg.
He rose, shook his pant leg back down over the boot, and felt the solid tap of 
the Cutters hilt against his calf.
Ten inches of the sharpest steel you could find.
Guaranteed to cut through bone as easily as a finger through melted butter.
Rudy grinned as he continued on his way, thinking about the awesome scene in the 
old movie Apocalypse Now where that fat Marlon Brando guy walks past Charlie 
Sheens old man and tosses down that one dudes face.
Cut it right off like it was a mask.
Thats what Rudy intended to do to DocScrap with the Cutter.
He looked behind him, caught a glimpse of the redheaded bitch stopping at one of 
the booths where you tossed balls at a row of stuffed cats, then made his way 
across the midway and fell into step a few yards behind the Doc and his Piece.
Now, or later?
He looked back toward the entrance.
People were pouring in. Youd think no one in these parts had ever seen a 
carnival before.
Lots of people.
All of them looking around and trying to decide what to do first, where to go.
Early confusion.
So Rudy, looking back at his prey, made a snap decision.
Youre gonna have to stop at one of these booths sometime, doesnt matter if 
its to get something to drink or shoot at rubber duckies, youre gonna have to 
stop soon.
Then youre all mine.
 
Killaine watched carefully as the first customer, a teenage girl, stepped up to 
the Six Cat booth, paid her fifty cents, and was given three baseballs by the 
operator.
We got ourselves an athletic-looking young lady here, said the operator. 
Looks like shes a ballplayer, folks! I think I might just be lookin at our 
first winner of the night here! Stand back, stand back, give er room.
Killaine scanned the interior of the booth.
Not only was there a Flash Clotha colorful drapecovering the counter, but one 
was laid out on the floor of the booth, and a third hung down from the shelf 
where the three large stuffed cat dolls were placed.
The young woman drew back and threw her first ball, hitting the center cat 
dead-center and knocking it off the shelf.
One down and two to go, shouted the operator. Im in deep trouble here, 
folks!
Killaine saw the shape of the cord that ran from under the counter to the side 
of the booth, then snaked along the length to vanish under the shelf. The shape 
of the cord was very subtlemost would mistake it for a simple wrinkle in the 
clothbut she knew what it meant.
The girl threw her second ball, hit the cat on the right with such force it flew 
off the shelf and slammed into the rear of the tent with a loud whumpf!
Two down, only one to go, folks! See the way my hands are shaking? Im about to 
lose my shirt here to this lovely little lady!
Killaine knew what was happening right this second.
The operator, standing just a bit closer to the edge of the counter than he had 
been before, was pressing his foot down on a pedal hidden beneath the counter 
Flash Cloth.
That peddle activated a rod that ran along the length of the booth, engaging a 
small brace that was moving forward to catch the remaining cat.
The girl threw her third ball and hit the last cat on its base.
The cat wobbled, started to fall backward
then, miraculously, regained its balance and stayed in place.
The onlookers all groaned their disappointment and the girl stamped her foot and 
said a most unladylike word.
Oh, too bad said the operator, grabbing two fresh cat dolls and placing them 
on the shelf. You had me worried there for a minute, young lady. But dont 
fret! Nothing worth having is ever easy! He held out three more balls. Try 
your luck again!
I got your balls right here, said the girls boyfriend, putting his arm around 
her and pulling her away from the booth.
Many of the onlookers followed.
The operator looked around, rolling one of the balls between his hands, then 
caught sight of Killaine.
Maam, if you dont mind my sayin you look even more for midable than my last 
customer. What say you give this game of skill a chance? Why, for a mere fifty 
cents you can
No thanks, said Killaine, pulling out the fake ID Itazura had whipped up the 
night before. Flipping open the wallet, she displayed her identification, along 
with a gold badge.
Karen Williams, she said, State Gambling Commission.
son-of-a-bitch muttered the operator.
Killaine closed the wallet and pointed to the side of the booth. Mind showing 
me what that lump over there is?
The operator looked to the spot where the shape of the rod was evident, wiped 
some sweat from his face, then stepped to the edge of the counter and gestured 
for Killaine to come closer.
Look, maam, he whispered, I cant afford to get busted any more this year. 
Isnt there somehe looked around to make sure there were no customers 
approachingsome way you and me can come to some sort of agreement?
Can you be a little more specific?
I mean, whats gonna happen to me if you haul me in? Ill do a couple days in 
jail and pay a fine. What say you and me just skip the middle of the process and 
Ill pay the fine to you right here.
Killaine tilted her head to the side, considering. Well, I dont know about 
that, friend. Weve had several complaints about the games at this particular 
carny, and the suits are gunning for a bust. I let you off and someone finds 
out, therell be hell to pay. Know what I mean?
I wouldnt expect you to take that kind of a chance for nothin, no, maam. He 
was looking outright panicky now. I mean, Ill be more than happy to throw in 
somethin extra for your trouble.
Killaine drummed her fingers on the counter. Give me a number.
Five hundred.
Give me a better number.
Eight hundred.
She squinted her eyes at him, took a deep breath, then exhaled and said, Tell 
you what Im gonna do. In about ten minutes an associate of mine will come over 
to play the game. Let him wingive him that portable radio up there. Let him 
stick for you for the next hour or so.
Sounds reasonable.
At the end of the hour, you give him the eight hundred. At the end of the 
evening, Ill come back and settle for ten percent of the nights take. For my 
trouble, you understand.
Yes, maam.
She described Itazura to him, then reached over and put a hand on his shoulder, 
applying some pressure as she squeezed.
The operator visibly winced.
Dont try anything, she said. You make a move to skip, and Ill be all over 
you.
Wouldntwouldnt think of it. Im a cooperating type.
Youd better be.
She let go of him and just happened to glance down the midway.
She saw Zac and Radiant standing at Morgans booth.
She saw the little boy excitedly shooting water at the clown within, his smiling 
mother standing just off to the side.
And she saw Mr. Guess-Im-Not-too-Swift-Tonight, from the parking lot, his 
clown-face looking around him as he approached Morgans booth.
Unzipping his windbreaker.
Crossing his arms over his chest as his hands went under the jacket.
She had just enough time to think, shoulder holsters, before things got crazy.
 
Zac and Radiant were taking their time along the midwaytheyd stopped at a 
dart-throw booth where Zac won a small stuffed elephantbut it was obvious that 
Radiant wanted to get to Morgans booth and read his energy.
Would you slow down a little? said Zac. You pull any harder on my arm and 
youre going to pop my shoulder.
Sorry, said Radiant. Its just that Im so happy for Killaine, you know?
I know. He tried to figure out what to do with the elephant, couldnt find a 
pocket big enough to stuff it in, and so settled for just hanging on to it and 
feeling like a big kid.
Shes been so alone for so long, said Radiant. I just cant help but want to 
get a reading on the man who stole her heart.
Okay, okay, said Zac, realizing that Radiant, for once, wasnt totally 
absorbed in herself; she hardly noticed the unadulterated looks of lust she was 
attracting from the men who passed by them. Well go to his boothbut could you 
please calm down? If we get over there and you start jumping up and down with 
glee, he might think somethings wrong.
Party pooper.
Yeah, said Zac. I get a lot of complaints about that.
They sauntered slowly to the area where Morgans booth was located.
Theres a lot of joy coming from there, said Radiant. Crystal wings and song. 
Theres a child there, isnt there?
And a darned cute little boy he is, too.
I knew it! But theres alsowait a secondtheres also a feeling of great 
relief from his mother.
She looks happy that hes enjoying himself.
Radiant shookher head. Its more than that. Theres an echo of
What are you doing?
Radiant looked at Zac. Something about the way she lookscould I just expand my 
neurofield enough to get a sense of her feelings, nothing more?
A couple of seconds, no longer.
Thank you. Radiant expanded her awareness for a moment. painugly pain under 
the surface.
They slowed their steps.
What do you suppose that means? asked Zac.
Theres a twisting sense ofI dont want to call it paranoia, but at the very 
least a constant fear. She stopped for a moment. Hold on, the energies are 
coalescing.
And?
Radiant held a hand to her mouth for a moment, made a sad sound, then whispered, 
Im sorry, Zac, I She shook her head, retracting the field back to only ten 
feet. Im sorry, II caught a few random strands of thought. I didnt mean to, 
it was an accidentbut some of her thoughts are so close to the surface that
Zac touched her shoulder. It was an accident, Im not mad. But you caught 
something pretty serious, I can see that.
Radiant nodded. She and the boy are living at a shelter for abused women. I 
felt the resonance of the cumulative anxiety of the other women there. A group 
of them are here tonight for their kids.
Did you sense her husbands energy anywhere?
No, hes only a memory to her now. Distant. Probably in jail or prison. But the 
anxiety, the fear of him, is still very much apart of her.
Well, at least her boys enjoying himself tonight.
Radiant smiled. Oh, yes, shes very proud of him. It felt like glowing, golden 
bliss. This means the world to her, hearing his laughter and seeing his smile.
Thats what nights and places like this were designed for, replied Zac.
And I canoh, my.
What is it?
I just caught a wave of Morgans energy.
They were less than three yards from Morgans booth.
And?
Theres great strength in him, Zac. He genuinely loves children and seeing 
their joy, but I pulled back. I want to respect his psychic privacy for 
Killaines sake.
And thats when Zac saw Morgan behind the counter.
Oh, he said.
Radiant tugged his arm. Tell me. Tell me now.
Hes handicapped.
How?
Hes got ahes a hunchback and uses arm-crutches.
Radiant nodded her head. That must be it.
That must be what?
The contradictory wave of tainted energy. I caught an echo of it before I 
pulled back. Its at odds with his strength and his love of children and his 
deep romantic affection for Killaine. She stopped, took a breath, and steadied 
herself.
Are you all right? asked Zac.
Whew! Huh? Oh, Im fine. Its just that I got another blast of his feelings for 
Killainehe must be looking for her or thinking about herandwow! This is one 
intensely passionate man. She looked at Zac. Im reducing the field to five 
feet. Im starting to feel a little voyeuristic.
Zac nodded his agreement, then looked over at Morgan and grinned. Well, good 
for Killaine!
Im even more jealous than I was when she talked about him last night.
Zac patted her arm. Cheer up. You can still break a thousand hearts just by 
walking down the street.
Radiant leaned over and kissed his cheek. You are the sweetest man in the 
world.
If you say so.
They were at the booth now. Zac commented on the news crew who were covering a 
pie-eating contest just a few yards past the midway. Those pies sure look 
good.
Like you need any more cholesterol in your diet, replied Radiant, playfully 
poking his belly.
Whos the party pooper now?
So they watched as the little boy took aim with his water-filled plastic rifle 
and landed a stream in the mouth of a clown face at the back of the booth.
 
Rudy kept four yards back from DocScrap and his Piece while they stopped at one 
of the booths.
Doc threw some darts and won a stupid stuffed elephant.
Come on, already! he thought.
He almost did them right there, but there were too many people around that 
boothmore than a dozenand Rudy wanted to catch them at one of the less crowded 
games.
So he bided his time, patient.
A good Stomper had to be able to sense when the Strike Moment was at hand, and 
this wasnt it.
Then the Doc and his Piece were on the move again, and Rudy kept pace.
Finally, they started slowing down.
Rudy looked ahead of them.
This section of the midway was nearing its end.
Theyd better stop soon.
Damn, can you walk any slower, Doc?
But they were moving forward, toward the last booth where there was only a 
little brat and his fat mom.
Go there, he wished. Nice, uncrowded booth, right at the end of the line. Give 
me plenty of room to do my business on you and run into the crowds over by the 
rides.
Now they were walking real slow.
Toward the kid and his mom and
Rudy smiled.
Well, whatta you know! Twisty-Crips booth!
If they stopped there, that would be the Strike Moment.
They stopped.
Rudy took one last, quick look around, then unzipped his jacket, crossed his 
arms across his chest, and grabbed his guns.
The Piece was standing on the left.
Doc was on the right.
Like ducks in a shooting gallery, mused Rudy, unholstering his weapons and 
walking faster.
 
Radiant sensed it then, the dark, deadly, intensely focused energy that was 
approaching them from behind. It had just entered her five-foot field. She knew 
that if she turned around that would tip them off, whoever in the hell they 
were, and that was the last thing you did in a battle situationand this was 
most definitely a battle situation nowbecause if you tipped your hand too soon 
that might spook them and theyd do something reckless, and whoever it was 
approaching them from behind was carrying serious firepower, she could feel the 
cold, reptilian energy emanating from the guns, and if she spooked them, they 
might just start firing at random, and there were innocent people here.
 
Zac felt Radiants body go rigid, as if shed just been hit by a 
ten-thousand-volt shot of electricity, and he knew right away that something was 
wrong, that she was concentrating on homing in on the source of the danger, and 
his next thought was not for her safety, nor was it for his ownit was for the 
childs and the childs mother, so he began scanning the immediate area for 
someplace he could get them out of the line of fire.
 
Rudy had the guns out now, hanging by his sides, close by his sides so no one 
would notice, and suddenly he felt more powerful than hed ever felt in his 
entire, miserable, stinking life, because for once he had the upper hand, he had 
the power, he was in control, and damn if that wasnt the best feeling in the 
world because there was no way DocScrap and his little robo-slut where going to 
deny him his moment of glory again, so as he came up within a yard of their 
backs he began lifting the guns, aiming right at the base of their necks.
 
Killaine felt as if she were moving in slow motion as she jumped away from the 
Six Cat booth and started running toward Zac and Radiant, knowing full well 
there was no way she was going to get to them in time, shed have to aim for the 
Shooter and that could be dangerous because there were other people at the 
booth, not mention her sweet, loving Morgan inside, so whatever she did would 
have to be swift and decisive and it would have to work the first time out 
because there wouldnt be a second chance here, but she wasnt going to do a 
damn bit of good if she didnt start moving faster.
 
Radiant waited until she could feel the heat from the attackers body enter her 
own body space, and she read his heat and knew three things right away: 1) It 
was a he, and a young he, at that, maybe fifteen, sixteen at the most; 2) One of 
his weapons was an electron gun that was pointed at the base of her neck, which 
meant he knew she was robotic; and 3) It was the same kid whod broken into the 
warehouse the other night and tried to bite a chunk out of Zacs hand. With 
maybe five seconds leftshe felt the energy of his flesh merging with that of 
the guns, which meant his fingers were on the triggersshe leaned a little 
toward Zac and whispered, The Biters right behind us, then straightened 
herself, readying to make her move.
 
The Biters right behind us, whispered Radiant to Zac, and he felt himself 
grow cold all over, because whoever that kid was, he was stone crazy, even if he 
didnt know it, and someone who was stone crazy wouldnt care who he hurt or 
killed, just so long as he accomplished what he set out to do, which was, of 
course, to kill Zac, but there wasnt time to think about that because Zac felt 
Radiants arm slip away from him and he knew there were maybe a couple of 
seconds left before all hell broke loose, so Zac did the only thing he could do, 
the only thing that mattered to him, he moved forward to block the kid with his 
own body.
 
Rudy was less than a foot away when he saw the Piece lean over and whisper 
something in the Docs ear, and Rudy knew, with all the primitive survival 
tendencies that are part and parcel for one who lives on the streets, that the 
Piece had somehow spotted him, but all the while a small voice in his head was 
screaming, That cant be, theyve been looking at that little brat all this 
time, no way they saw me!, then another part of his mind kicked in, reminding 
Rudy that the Piece was, probably, likely, had to be another robot, right, and 
maybe this one had some kind radar built into her so she could tell when someone 
was sneaking up on her, but by the time this registered Rudy no longer cared, he 
was remembering the taste of DocScraps blood on his tongue, so he pushed his 
arms out like a couple of ramrods and surged forward, and son-of-bitch if thats 
not when the Piece took her arm away from the Doc and the dude made a dive for 
the kid.
 
Killaine was running as fast as she dared with this many people surrounding her, 
people she could hurt if she rammed into them, but no matter how fast she was 
going she feared it wasnt going to be fast enough, and all she could think was, 
Do something, Radiant! Do it now, you have to know hes behind you, but then she 
had to veer to the side in order to avoid colliding with a woman pushing a set 
of newborn twins in an oversized stroller, and in veering out of the way she 
nearly slammed into a vendor pushing his mobile hot dog cart up the midway, so 
she had to hit the brakes and back up, move to the side, squeeze past a large 
group of teenagers, and by the time she was back on track it was too late, 
because she heard the gunshots and the sound of splintering wood and someone 
yelling and, worst of all, the high-pitched sound of someone screaming in pain.
 
Radiant pulled her arm away from Zac and saw Zac move toward the child, then she 
felt the kid with the guns pull in a breath and knew this was the crucial 
moment, so she brought her right hand up to her face as she snap-kicked backward 
at the Biters knee to disable him but she must have been more rattled than she 
thought, because she didnt pulp his kneecap as the snap-kick was intended, she 
connected instead with his shin and felt the bone crack but not break, but that 
was all right, it would have to do, so she spun around, bringing her right arm 
down at an arc, then ripping it upward and to the side, slamming her elbow 
against the Biters left armat least, that was the ideabut her thoughts were 
still with Zac and the mother and her child, so all she managed to do was 
connect with the electron gun, which went up, up, and away, spinning in the air, 
landing somewhere far behind him, and she relished the look of shock on his 
clown-painted face, but only for a millisecond because he still had the other 
gun, and he did something she didnt expect, he fell down onto the ground, and 
as she worried that maybe shed done more damage to him than shed thought, he 
went down and squeezed the trigger of the Magnum that gave out with the 
brightest, ugliest muzzle flash Radiant would ever see.
 
When Zac broke away from Radiant he went into a stoop-run, shoving his arms in 
front of him to get hold of the child, the child, the child, nothing mattered at 
the moment but getting the child out of the line of fire, and as he threw 
himself toward the kid he heard the childs mother shriek and he heard the 
unmistakable sound of a bone cracking behind him and he heard the Biter scream 
in agony and then Zac smiled because he had his hands on the childs waist and 
was pulling him away from the counter and down toward the ground, and half a 
second later it dawned on Zac that he shouldnt have let his guard down long 
enough to feel safe, because thats when he felt something along the lines of a 
rabid grizzly bears claws rip through his shoulder, and now the kid was staring 
at him, white-faced with fear as some of Zacs blood spattered against his 
cheek, and then the grizzly bear swiped its claws again and as they hit the 
ground Zac closed his eyes and readied himself for the pain, the fire, the 
agony, but it didnt come, and he wondered if hed started going into shock 
already, then he pulled up just a little so the child wouldnt be crushed by his 
weight and got a good look at the child, and then Zac Robillard did something 
that he hadnt done since the night Jean died in his arms, he threw back his 
head and released a howl of anguish and grief.
 
Rudy realized that the Piece had gotten him with a backward kick, and he didnt 
have time to wait for the pain to register, hed deal with that later, so he 
pushed the electron gun forward and thats when the Piece whirled around and 
brought her arm up and Taichopped at his arm, connecting only with the electron 
gun and sending it into the air, and Rudy allowed himself a half-second to 
think, Score one for the robo-slut, then he went down, went down hard, doing a 
quick tuck-and-roll and grabbing the Auto-Mag from its hiding place, and the 
Piece had made the mistake of turning her attention toward the woman and the kid 
and hadnt noticed that Rudy was now down on the same level with the Doc, so 
Rudy opened fire with the Auto-Mag and saw the first bullet rip through the 
meaty part of DocScraps shoulder, blowing tissue and blood every which way, and 
the second bullet blew a section of the booths wooden counter all to shit, so 
Rudy did a fast roll to the side and plowed off another shot at the Doc, but 
this one seemed to go wild because the Doc didnt seem hit, but then came a 
glorious sound and sight, DocScrap throwing his head back and howling like a 
wounded animal, and that sound was enough to shift all of Rudys reptilian 
impulses into high gear, and he pulled himself up onto his feet and staggered 
the hell out of there while the confusion was on his side.
 
Killaine saw the Shooter limp off but she didnt care about that at the moment, 
all she could see was the shuddering form of Zac on the ground, the back of his 
shirt soaked in blood, a good piece of meat ripped from his shoulder, but then 
there was another crowd in her road because people were stopping, freezing in 
their tracks, realizing that Something Terrible had just happened, but Killaine 
was going too fast to stop and if she collided with anyone right now shed 
probably break all the bones in their body, so she did the only thing she could, 
she executed a move Itazura had taught her once, she threw herself forward and 
down, arms and hands extended, catching her own weight and pushing her 
upside-down body into the air, soaring over the heads of the gawking crowd, 
somersaulting over them, landing on her feet on the other side and rocketing 
forward, thinking only of her dear Zachary, her dear Radiant, and her dear 
Morgan, and she was almost on them when she saw Zac roll to the side and then 
Killaine stumbled because there was the kid, the poor, innocent child, being 
swallowed by the merciless teeth of chronos, blood pumping from the upper 
portion of his right arm where the third bullet had gotten him, and thats when 
Killaine did something shed never done before, she let her warriors instincts 
go to hell in a handbasket and just surrendered to the blood-craziness.
 
And over by the pie-eating contest, the local news crew was getting all of it on 
tape.
The reporter couldnt help but want to smile.
What an exclusive!
Pictures at eleven
 
Trying to gain a good headstart on anyone who might come after him, Rudy caught 
a peripheral glimpse of some dude dressed up like a cowboy riding a horse, just 
trotting toward the midway like it was only another day on the range, and he 
measured his chances, decided to go for it, and pistol whipped a nearby old man 
across the back of his skull and spun around, pushing the Auto-Mag out as he ran 
up beside the horse and yelled, Get off or Ill blast your fuckin face! and 
the cowboy, who obviously wasnt raised in no barn, practically threw himself 
out of the saddle, and the dude hadnt gotten one foot on the ground before Rudy 
swung his leg up and slipped his foot into the stirrup, threw himself up onto 
the saddle, then jerked on the reins and made the horse turn aroundthen it was 
just a matter of kicking the thing a good one in the side with his steel-toed 
boot and the horse whinnied, threw back its head, and broke into a gallop.
 
Zac looked down at the little boy and wanted to scream again, but by now Daniel 
Morgan had come out from the booth and was dragging a big metal box with him, a 
medical kit, no doubt, then Killaine was there, kneeling down with Radiant; 
Killaine was trying to hold Zac and keep pressure on his wounds while Radiant 
cradled the little boys head in her lap and pressed a cloth against his right 
arm.
Zac pulled in a deep, pained breath and said, Is heis it serious?
Radiant touched the boys sweaty forehead and said, Hes in a lot of pain but 
the bullet didnt break any bones or major blood vessels. Hes going to live but 
I dont know if hell ever have full use of this arm again.
Killaine felt the blood-craziness taking over again, knowing damned well she 
should have taken off after the Shooter but wounded innocents came first, 
always, no arguments; she looked at Zac, who swallowed and nodded his head, then 
she looked at Morgan who said, I already called for the EMTs, they got a 
trailer at the other end of the park, theyre on their way, then she looked and 
saw the Shooter pulling himself onto a horse and galloping away, and then Zac 
had her hand in his and was saying, Dont let him get away, and that was all 
Killaine needed.
She gently ran her hand over Zacs face, let Morgan take over the first aid, 
then took off at full speed after the horse and its rider.
 
Rudy had no idea how far away he was from the scene of his wreckage when the 
horse started bucking up its ass and spinning around in a circle, trying to 
throw him. He held on as best he could but the horse was mad, and it was scared, 
and it wanted him off its back, and with another snort, buck, and spin, it sent 
Rudy flying away from its saddle and into a cluster of tables by a hamburger 
stand.
Rudy crashed down onto one of the empty tables, smashing it to pieces, lay there 
for a moment feeling stunned, then pulled himself up and saw a family at a 
nearby table coming toward him, the father asking him, Are you all right?
Rudy shoved the Auto-Mag into the guys face and said, Back off!
The guy made a move to shield his wife and kids but he was too slow.
Rudy lunged forward and grabbed the guys little daughter by her 
strawberry-blond hair, pulling her into him.
He wrapped one of his arms around her waist, lifted her off her feet, and 
pressed the gun against her temple.
She was a smart kid; she didnt struggle.
The father made a move toward them, so Rudy snapped the gun away and fired at 
the guy, blowing his left knee to smithereens, and as the guy hit the ground 
screaming Rudy put the gun back against the little girls temple and backed out 
of the snack area, making slow, small circles so he could get a good look at 
everyone around him.
Go on! he shouted at the gawkers. Go on, somebody try something! You wanna be 
wearing her brains in your hair? COME ON!
No one made a move toward him.
He worked his way out of the snack area, having no idea where he was going to 
go.
And thats when he saw the redheaded bitch come out of nowhere.
 
Killaine saw the horse gallop past dozens of attractions and rides, and for a 
minute it was difficult to keep up with it because of the crowds, but then 
people started to make room for horse and rider and she was able to judge their 
location by the gaping holes in the throngs of bodies, and she couldnt help but 
feel satisfied when she saw the horse buck and throw the Shooter.
She made her way quickly toward them, somersaulting over a cluster of shocked 
carnival-goers and landing on her feet only a few yards away from the snack 
area.
She hit the entrance at the same time the Shooter came stumbling out with a 
terrified little girl dangling from his arm.
He caught sight of Killaine and turned in her direction, pressing the gun harder 
into the girls temple. Hey, bitch! Come for a little taste of my Power, have 
you?
Let her go, said Killaine calmly, taking a step forward.
Fuck you! screamed the Shooter.
And it was then Killaine recognized his voice.
Youre the Stomper from the other night.
Rudy let fly with a cackling, high-pitched laugh. Give the bitch a cee-gar! He 
continued moving away from her.
Killaine saw him glance very quickly in the direction of the merry-go-round only 
ten yards away.
No, she thought. You cant be that stupid.
But he was, and then some.
 
Rudy pulled himself along with all he had, tightening his grip on the little 
girl whod gone limp in his arms, and when he was about a yard away from the 
merry-go-round he realized that shed passed out on him, that she was deadweight 
because half the bargaining power of taking a hostage was using their fear to 
your advantage, and you didnt get no fear out of someone who was out like a 
light, so he took a breath, threw the unconscious girl toward the redheaded 
bitch, then started firing at random, blowing out neon lights, shattering the 
mirrors outside the fun house, and hitting the french-fry vat in the snack area, 
sparking the metal and igniting the grease in a huge cloud of fire and smoke.
Within seconds most of the snack stand was in flames.
Employees and patrons alike charged away from the conflagration.
WREEEEEEEEEEECKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGE! screamed Rudy, then turned tail and 
ran-limped as best he could toward the merry-go-round.
 
Killaine checked to make sure the little girl was alive and unharmed, breathing 
a sigh of relief when she felt a strong pulse.
She shielded the girl from the Stompers panic-fire, feeling one of the bullets 
wing off her own back, puncturing her flesh but doing no real damage.
Then the snack area exploded into flames and the frightened mob of people poured 
over them.
Killaine covered the little girl with her own body as people stomped, kicked, 
and clawed their way past, often over them, more than a few stepping on her back 
in their mad dash to survive.
When she at last dared to lift her head, she saw a woman in tears, kneeling over 
a man with a bloody leg a few feet away.
Ohgod! screamed the woman. John, John, I cant see Emily, I cant see her 
anywhere!
By then the little girl was coming around.
Killaine gently tapped the girls cheeks, helping her back to consciousness.
Whowhore you? whispered the girl, hoarsely.
Is your name Emily?
Uh-huhwhereswheres the bad man?
The bad mans gone, hon. Do you think you can walk?
think so
Killaine helped the girl to her feet, then shouted, Maam! Maam, over here!
The woman saw her daughter, safe and unharmed, and ran toward her.
Killaine kissed Emilys forehead, patted her on the cheek, then went after the 
Stomper.
 
Rudy fell onto the rotating platform of the merry-go-round and damn near hit his 
head against one of the wooden horses.
Damned if he hadnt had his fill of horses today.
He reached up and grabbed on to one of the poles and pulled himself to his feet, 
noting that this was an older model carousel and that was a good thing, damn 
lucky thing because it gave him another advantage, and he waited until he passed 
the door to the controllers booth located in the center of the carousel.
Then he jumped down, elbowed the door open, and pushed the gun into the 
controllers face. Open this damn thing up!
The controller held up his hands and said, What?
Full speed, screamed Rudy, grabbing the controllers hands and slamming them 
down on the handles.
But theres people still on the ride, said the controller. Top speed is forty 
miles an hour and I aint permitted to go over fifteen.
DO IT!
The controller fixed Rudy with an icy stare. Sorry, boy. I wont endanger them 
folks. Guess youre gonna have to use that thing.
Rudy screamed and smashed the gun against the controllers head, splitting open 
a good section of his head.
Then he kicked the guy out of the way, grabbed the handles, and slammed them all 
the way to the right.
The prerecorded organ music grew louder, faster, and more frantic as the 
carousel picked up speed.
This would buy him a little time.
Not much, but a little.
Even a damned robot would have trouble jumping onto a platform that was rotating 
at forty miles an hour.
At least, thats what he was hoping.
 
Killaine saw the Stomper fall onto the carousel, then pull himself to his feet 
and vanish as the platform spun.
She ran toward it and was just about to leap on when the thing suddenly tripled 
its speed, the music screaming like operatic insanity.
She caught glimpses of the few people and children who were riding it, all of 
them clutching to the poles of their bouncing wooden animals for dear life.
She knew it would only be a matter of seconds before the momentum would start 
throwing them.
She ran back a few feet, steadied herself, then sprinted forward, leaping out 
and landing squarely on the platform.
She was unprepared for the sheer force of the speed and almost lost her balance.
The wooden animals no longer glided along and bounced gently in time with the 
music; they screeched and pumped like pistons in an overheated, speeding engine.
On the first full-throttle revolution, she caught sight of the Stomper in the 
controllers booth, taking aim at her and firing.
The bullet winged off the arced metal roof of the carousel and blew off a lions 
head.
Killaine ducked down and made her way back toward the control booth, walking 
against the momentum.
The screams of the riders blended with the insane music to create a 
nerve-shattering cacophony in Killaines ears.
So this is hell, she thought.
She pulled herself forward until she faced the open door of the control booth 
once again.
The Stomper fired.
Killaine snapped up her right arm.
The bullet ricocheted off her elbow, and this time it hurt.
In the same instance the bullet ricocheted, she threw herself forward and into 
the control booth, knocking the gun from the Stompers hand and grabbing him 
hard by the throat, lifting him off the ground.
With her other hand she grabbed the control handles and slowly pulled them back, 
back, back, not daring to stop the carousel all at once because the sudden force 
would send the riders flying as if theyd been shot by a cannon.
The carousel slowly came to a halt, and the riders, all of them badly shaken-up 
but unhurt, groaned their relief.
It was only after shed made certain that the riders were all right that 
Killaine thought to see how the Stomper was doing.
She looked up at him and felt herself go numb.
She must have been too angry, too blood-crazy, because shed squeezed his throat 
so hard that shed crushed his neck and created such internal pressure in his 
skull that one of his eyes had actually popped from its socket.
He was dead.
Killaine knew she should put him down and go get someone, anyone, but she 
couldnt bring herself to do it, no matter how intensely she willed herself to 
move.
She had never killed anyone before.
And I shouldnt have been able to! she screamed to herself silently.
The I-Bots, because of their modified programming, and the variability of the 
DNA and RNA that governed their biological components, could harm human beings, 
but only for one of two reasons: 1) If there was an active, immediate, and 
irreversible circumstance or set of circumstances that would result in the 
deaths of innocent bystanders if immobilizing force was not exercised at once, 
or 2) if it would serve the greater good.
This still felt wrong.
She had killed the Stomper, but not while the Stomper was actively trying to 
kill anyone.
Hed wounded others, yes; endangered others, yes, but there had been no active, 
immediate, or irreversible circumstance or set of circumstances involved at the 
moment when shed killed him, and though her actions at that time had 
undoubtedly saved a handful of humans from possible death later, it had not 
served the greater good at that exact instant.
Or had it?
Killaine continued to stare up at Stompers dead body, her mind a runaway train 
of regret, shock, self-condemnation, and grief.
She had committed an act that all her programming was supposedly designed to 
prevent her from committing.
Wasnt it?
A part of her detached itself from the rest and began to look at the situation 
in coldly objective terms, then wondered how long it would be before her entire 
system locked up and shut down irreversiblybecause wasnt that what was 
supposed to happen when a robot killed?
But she wasnt a robot.
Nor was she human.
Yet she was more than the sum of both.
She had killed a human being out of anger, out of her own desire to inflict harm 
and call it justice.
She was a murderer.
So why was she still able to function? Why wasnt all her circuitry 
self-destructing this very moment?
Bright lights in her face.
Killaine squinted, turning her head toward the source, and managed to make out 
the shape of the reporter and his cameraman standing just beyond the carousel.
Then three other shapes joined them, shoving them out of the way.
Killaine! shouted Radiant.
Then she watched as the other two shapes stepped onto the platform and came into 
focus.
Itazura and Psy-4 saw her, saw the dead body of the Stomper she held over her 
head, and moved cautiously toward her.
Its okay, Killaine, one of them whisperedshe wasnt sure whothen someone 
reached in and gently took hold of her, pulling her from the controllers booth.
Thats it, Sis, thats it, come on, watch your head, there you go
Outside, she was outside, and it was Itzy who was pulling her gently along, then 
Psy-4 was there, reaching up to pry her fingers from around the Stompers 
crushed, dead throat.
Let go of him, Killaine, cmon, let go, just open your hand, oneone finger at 
a time, there you go, easy now, easy
She heard the sound of the dead body hitting the wooden platform with an ugly, 
wet, cold smack!
Then the lights again, but now Psy-4 and Itazura were pulling her along, out of 
the light, and there was Radiant, taking hold of her hand and whispering, You 
gotta get the hell out of here, Killaine, the police are on their way and its a 
madhouse on the midway. Can you hear me? Do you understand what Im saying?
Killaine somehow managed to nod her head.
The fires going to slow the authorities down for a minute or two, continued 
Radiant. So youve got to pull yourself together and get out of here, 
understand? See that field over there, just beyond the fortune-tellers tent?
Again, Killaine nodded.
Take off now, run directly due south, okay? The field empties out onto a road 
near that old farmhouse we saw a couple of days ago, remember?
Nod.
You get your ass in the barn and wait there for us, okay? Well be along as 
quick as we can.
Killaine swallowed once, very hard, and croaked: Zac and the boy
The EMTs should be there by now. Danny said hed make sure both of them were 
taken care of.
sweetDannys so sweet
Yes, he is, said Radiant, pushing Killaine toward the field. And hes just 
fine, you hear me? Now go, Killaine, goGO!
Radiant gave her a firm push, and before Killaine was even aware of it, she was 
running at near full speed through the green, green field, running due south, 
toward the old road that led to the farmhouse and the barn, and she wondered for 
a moment why everything was so blurry then realized it was because she was 
crying, crying, crying.
 
Psy-4, Radiant, and Itazura arrived back at Morgans booth to find the EMTs 
loading the little boy onto one stretcher and his mother onto another.
Wheres Morgan? said Radiant. I dont feel his presence anymore.
I never saw the guy, replied Itazura.
Psy-4 looked around. What happened to Zac?
Radiant couldnt sense Zacs presence any longer.
Itazura ran around the immediate area but couldnt see him.
Finally, Itazura asked one of the EMTs, What happened to the older man who was 
here?
The EMT shook her head. Im sorry, sir, but there was no one else here, just 
this child and his mother.
Then he heard Radiant call, Guys! Over here!
They found her across the midway, in front of an empty booth where players threw 
softballs into bushel baskets. Tears were running down her face.
She was holding a small stuffed elephant.
The toy was soaked in blood.
This w-w-was Zacs, she spluttered. He won it for me.
Psy-4 put a hand on her arm. Where is he?
She brought the elephant closer to her chest, reading the energy resonances that 
Zac might have left behind.
Well? snapped Itazura.
They took him.
Who?
She shook her head. II dont know, butwait! ZacZac knew one of them.
Can you read anything else? asked Psy-4, his voice barely controlled.
II think that She dropped her head. Dammit! I almost had it!
Itazura grabbed her arm. Try again!
Its not that easy, Itzy! I
Then her body went ramrod straight and deathly still.
Preston, she said. Whoever has Zac knows Preston, as well.
Itazura and Psy-4 looked at one another.
Annabelle, they both said at almost the same time.
Checking very quickly to make sure the child and his mother were going to 
survive, they took off out of the park and had just made it to the van when the 
squad cars came screaming down the road.
 
In his trailer, Daniel Morgan slammed the door closed and let fly with a string 
of profanities that would have made a hard-core biker blush.
He threw his crutches away, then flopped down onto his bed and tore away his leg 
braces.
He pushed himself to his feet, stumbled over to the small kitchen table, sat 
down, ripped off his shirt, and began to undo the buckles that held his back 
brace in place.
It fell away, and with it his deformity.
Damn that hurts! thought Janus, rubbing the back of his neck.
He was glad to be rid of the disguise.
Still, it had been great being back at the carny again. Half his life hed spent 
at such places, under various names. And it was a requirement for his continued 
association with Annabelle that she keep this particular carnival in the old 
corporate holdings.
He never knew when he might want a place to hide, disguised as Morgan.
Reaching behind the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table, he snatched up 
the cell phone and punched in a number.
Waited for the person on the other end to answer.
By the sixth ring, he knew there was no one there to answer.
Shit! he hissed, throwing the phone across the trailer.
Annabelle wasnt there.
Which could only mean one thing.
She was either on her way here to see Preston or was already here.
He should have known better than to trust Simmons and his underlings. Oh, sure, 
theyd been more than happy to play their parts as game operatorsSimmonss 
performance as Herbert had impressed even Janusand that should have tipped 
Janus off.
They were a little too willing to go along with his plans.
He slammed his fist down on the tabletop, flipped the table over, and pulled the 
scarred sea chest out from under the other kitchen chair.
He unlocked it, flipped open the lid, and began taking stock of his arsenal.
Either hed been double-crossed, or played for a patsy.
Didnt really matter at this point.
It was blood all the way now.
  PART THREE



  WHEELS OF FIRE



  Every thought and its resultant action should be judged by what it is able to 
  draw from suffering. Despite my dislike of it, suffering is a fact.
  Albert Camus, NOTEBOOK IV,
  JANUARY 1942-SEPTEMBER 1945



    70
    08:22:37


    Zac Robillard regained consciousness in slow, confusing degrees, recalling 
    only frozen moments and hazy images instead of full-blown incidents or 
    details:
    The carnival; the grizzly bear ripping away some of his shoulder meat; the 
    bloody, unconscious but still-breathing form of the little boy; Radiant, 
    Itazura, and Psy-4 running after Killaine; then blackness; coming to 
    sometime later, strapped to a gurney; faces hidden behind surgical masks, 
    looking down at him.
    And underscoring all of it was that oh-so-familiar voice; clipped speech, 
    impeccable diction, right out of Parliament:
    A pleasure to see you again, Dr. Robillard.
    Simmons.
    Which meant Annabelle couldnt be too far behind.
    71
    Until the moment when one of them decided to turn on the News at Ten, 
    Stonewall and Singer had been having a relaxing, quiet evening at the 
    warehouse; Stonewall finished his cross-stitch projectexceptionally happy 
    with the way the puppy dogs had turned outand Singer, having finally 
    mastered the basics of Itazuras HIR unit, made some holos of the robots 
    hiding down in the sewer.
    The news shattered their contentment, of course.
    Were going live to Ron Wilson at the scene of the shootings.
    Thanks, Ted. Im standing here near the carousel at the Route 79 carnival 
    location where, only a few minutes ago, a series of events unfolded that, at 
    last count, have left at least four people wounded and one person dead. Due 
    to the graphic nature of the following material, parental discretion is 
    advised. Now take a look at this video we shot.
    Stonewall and Singer watched the events in silence; from the initial 
    shooting to Killaine killing the young man in the clown makeup; then, just 
    as the anchorman was saying, Channel 28 has learned that the dead teenager 
    was evidently carrying out some sort of initiation assignment in order to 
    join the so-called Silver Metal Stompers, a group of anti-robot youths 
    who
    Stonewall turned off the television. Shit! Now we really have to get the 
    hell out of here, he said to Singer.
    What do I start with?
    Go down into the garage bay and bring up all the empty crates. Ill start 
    breaking down the lab and computer equipment.
    When will the others be here?
    Soon. And Im going to assume that finishing up with the packing will be 
    the last thing on their minds.
    72
    In the SMS headquarters, Gash watched the rest of the news broadcast, paying 
    particular attention to the last bit of ersatz-information passed along: 
    Weve also received unconfirmed reports that the young woman sought by 
    police in the killing of the alleged Stomper was recently in the employ of 
    Preston Technical Systems, Inc., a multinational
    Gash lifted his shotgun and blew the set to sparking, fizzling smithereens.
    Dropping the weapon, he rolled over on the expansive but old sofa and lifted 
    a vial of Stoke from a nearby table, taking care not to spill any of the 
    precious golden powder as he poured a thin line across the back of his hand 
    and then snorted it with his left nostril, then he repeated the process for 
    his right nostril.
    Stoke, wondrous Stoke; a chemical fusion between cocaine and PCP that not 
    only killed all the pain in your bodyand Gash had plenty of pain after his 
    rooftop battle with Little Mary Sunshinebut also doubled, sometimes tripled 
    your physical strength while acting as a sensory inhibitor.
    In other words: Nothing registered; no pain, no pleasure, nothing.
    You were Stoked, ready to fight: inhuman.
    He rose from the sofa, grabbed an Uzi, and fired into the air.
    All along the candlelit balconies of the old Taft Hotel, the Stompers 
    assembled.
    We now know who it is the good doctor works for, croaked Gash, feeling the 
    effects of the Stoke starting to kick in. And we know that all of them are 
    responsible for the death of our potential brother-in-arms.
    The Stompers stared down at him in glassy-eyed silence.
    Ready yourselves, cried Gash, growing stronger. The witching hour nears. 
    That is when we shall begin our greatest strike, my Stompers.
    He brought the vial to his nose and treated himself to two more snorts, then 
    lifted his sword.
    Let me hear it, he crooned.
    Wreckage, they whispered.
    Gash laughed. Again, butsofter
    wreckage
    Gash put a finger to his lips, staggered slightly, and said, Shhhhhhsave 
    your power, my Stomperssofter, softer
    wreckage
    ready yourselves
    73
    In the main lab in the basement of PTSI, Sam Preston sat before Roys 
    console drumming his fingers, checking his watch, then rubbing his eyes.
    A few moments later the door opened and a bleary-eyed McCarrick was pushed 
    into the room by a pair of beefy security guards.
    Preston gestured for the guards to close the door and wait outside.
    Then he pressed a button, engaging the electronic lock.
    What the hell is going on? shouted McCarrick. How dare you send a pair of 
    your goons to my home at this hour! They frightened my wife and daughter 
    half to death.
    Good thing you decided to accompany them, said Preston. They had orders 
    to hurt your wife and daughter if you refused to cooperate.
    McCarrick sneered at Preston. You sick, twisted bastard!
    He came at Preston.
    And Preston spun the chair around, aiming the Colt Python directly at 
    McCarrick.
    McCarrick stopped in his tracks for a moment, then smiled. You didnt use a 
    gun on me before when you threatened to.
    Care to try your luck a second time?
    McCarrick laughed.
    Charged again.
    Preston shot him in the leg.
    After McCarrick finished thrashing around on the floor and screaming, 
    Preston pulled the medical kit out from under the control panel, gave 
    McCarrick a healthy shot of painkiller, then cleaned and dressed the wound.
    Bullet passed right through the meaty part of your calf, he said. Bet you 
    had no idea I was such a good shot, did you?
    dont give a damn about you or your snarled McCarrick.
    Oh, but you will, replied Preston, dragging McCarrick toward the console 
    and putting him in the second chair. Take a look at that screen right 
    there.
    McCarrick did. Thatsthats the backyard of my home.
    Yes, it is. I have two men in your backyard right now, Professor. One of 
    them is holding the camera thats broadcasting those pictures. The other one 
    is holding a gun and a small black bag withhow to put this 
    delicately?various tools of his trade.
    McCarrick stared at him.
    Hes a professional interrogator, said Preston.
    You mean torturer, hissed McCarrick.
    Preston shrugged. You say tomato, I say tomahto
    What do you want?
    What I want, said Preston, turning McCarricks chair around so the 
    professor faced Roys console, is for you to place your right hand on the 
    scan-pad and for you to take hold of that key with your left.
    McCarrick looked at the scan-pad, then at the key, already in place and 
    waiting to be turned.
    An identical key was in place at Prestons end of the console.
    Oh, no whispered McCarrick.
    Im afraid so, replied Preston, staggering over to his chair and dropping 
    into it.
    The pain was quite bad; not so much that hed require a morphine tab, but 
    bad enough that he found it difficult to stand for long periods of time.
    Ive spent five years of my life on this project, said McCarrick, a touch 
    of petulance in his voice.
    Im aware of that, whispered Preston.
    Why this? And why now? The D and D program will finish running itself in a 
    little over eight hours.
    Because, Preston groaned, we have a visitor on the grounds, and Id 
    rather she not know anything about this particular project. Dont look at me 
    that way, Professor; Annabelle Donohoe will demand to be brought down here 
    eventually, and she is not a lady that one refuses. I wantno, I need for 
    all traces of Roy to be gone.
    So, if you please, place your hands in the necessary positions and
    Then he noticed the DISCONNECT light flashing.
    How long has Roy been offline?
    McCarrick glared at him. Almost since the day you brought him to me.
    What?
    McCarrick pulled himself up into a sitting position, groaning at the pain, 
    tears forming in his eyes. It wouldve only cost you twenty-thousand 
    dollars.
    Preston felt the blood drain from his face.
    Yes, said McCarrick, smiling a cancerous grin. Five years ago when they 
    diagnosed the tumors on Sarahs spine. I asked you for a loan of twenty 
    thousand dollars to fly Dr. Waggoner over from Geneva. He couldve 
    minimalized the damage to Sarahs spine, he might have even kept her out of 
    that wheelchair, but you wouldnt do it, you piece of shit. I betrayed Zac 
    Robillard and Annabelle Donohoe both to come work for you, and you wouldnt 
    even help my daughter when I begged you.
    So now my daughter is a cripple who cant even feed herself or wipe 
    herself, and every cent my wife and I have goes into caring for her. Do you 
    know she probably wont live to see her eleventh birthday. Yes! The cancers 
    back again, and its eating whats left of her spine. His voice was getting 
    louder and more hysterical. Do you have any idea how much I hate youhow 
    much I hate even the idea of you? You make a random decision about loaning 
    me pocket change and an innocent child pays for it! The tears burst from 
    his eyes and streamed down his face, but McCarricks fury would not be 
    stopped, not now.
    She has known nothing but pain and loneliness and darkness over every day 
    of her life because of you. And I have to watch her die, and my wifes 
    spirit along with her. So one day you bring me your precious little boy and 
    tell me to babysit him, put him online and let him experience as much of the 
    world as he can.
    Well, fuck you, and fuck your precious child. Let him know the loneliness 
    and pain and darkness that Sarah knows. And let him think youre the one who 
    did it to him.
    no choked Preston.
    I hope he hates you one-tenth as much as I do. And I hope you never have a 
    moments peace for the rest of your miserable, whorish, shit-stinking life. 
    God! I want to rip out your eyes and suck your skull dry. I want to rip off 
    your head and piss down your neck! I want to tie you to a bed of nails and 
    force-feed lukewarm vomit down your gullet until YOU CHOKE ON IT! DO 
    WHATEVER YOU WANT TO ME, YOU BASTARD, BUT LEAVE MY FAMILY ALONE!
    Preston was about to exercise his last, desperate option; overriding the 
    remainder of the D and D program. At this point, about 12 percent of the 
    information stored in Roy would be irrevocably lost, but Preston had 
    resigned himself to that.
    His son was lost to him.
    Any chance he had to save himself was lost.
    Everything was lost.
    And it was all his fault. Every last damned bit of it.
    The only thing he had to cling to now was his pride; he would not die having 
    Annabelle know hed failed so miserably at this, the most important thing 
    hed ever attempted to do.
    Forgive me, he thought silently.
    My son, my good boy.
    Your hand, then, Professor.
    And if I refuse?
    Then youll sit here at gunpoint and watch your daughters teeth be 
    extracted by a pair of pliers. He also has a soldering tool in that case. 
    Would you like to know what hell do with that or do you have enough 
    imagination to picture it on your own?
    McCarrick glowered at him.
    Ill take that to mean youll cooperate, said Preston.
    McCarrick released a howl of primitive animal fury and flung himself at 
    Preston. ROT IN HELL, YOU FUCKING MONSTER!
    Preston shot McCarrick point-blank in the face, then dragged the body over 
    to the panel and slapped McCarricks dead hand onto the scanner pad.
    The body fell back, pulling the hand with it.
    Preston looked around the lab until he found the small box of tools that 
    maintenance kept for mundane repairs.
    He shot open the lid of the toolbox and removed the small hacksaw.
    Looked at McCarricks body.
    Then did what he had to do.
    After placing McCarricks severed hand on the scan-pad, Preston placed his 
    left hand on his scan-pad and gripped his key with his right hand.
    The system scanned their handprints.


    <IDENTIFICATION PHASE 1: VERIFIED>


    Then another prompt appeared on the monitor:


    <V0ICE MATCH INITIATED>


    Preston, Samuel Clemens; Employee Number 000-01-A.


    <PREST0N, SAMUEL CLEMENS: VOICE MATCH VERIFIED>


    Override order #7215-BTR36-7. My voice only for remainder of operation. 
    Preston spread his arms out over the console and just managed to grab and 
    turn both keys simultaneously.
    Another screen prompt:


    <THIS WILL OVERRIDE THE REMAINING DOWNLOAD PORTION OF THE CURRENT PROGRAM; 
    THIS EXCEPTION IS CLASSIFIED FATAL AND WILL RESULT IN CATASTROPHIC DATA 
    LOSS. DO YOU WISH TO C0NTINUE?>


    Preston leaned toward his console microphone and said: Preston. Yes.


    <PLEASE RETURN KEYS TO THEIR ORIGINAL POSITIONS>


    Preston did.


    <REMAINDER OF DOWNLOAD PROGRAM TERMINATED. BEGINNING FINAL DATA COMPARISON. 
    TIME REMAINING: ONE HOUR, THIRTY-FIVE MINUTES, FORTY SECONDS>


    Thats it, then, said Preston, then lowered his head and wept quietly.
    After a moment, he looked at McCarricks body and said: Its all just an 
    illusion, Professor. Happiness. Contentment. Inner peace. Theyre all just 
    illusions we manufacture in order to give our lives the appearance of having 
    purpose, when the truth is there is no purpose, no Supreme Being, no Satan, 
    no heavenly reward or hellish punishment. Everything we do, all our 
    so-called accomplishments, are the result of a cosmic accident. Were just 
    cells under a giant microscope and the joke is, theres no one to look 
    through the lens to map our progress. Dont you find that funny, in a sad 
    sort of way?
    Oddly enough, McCarrick didnt answer.
    Dont worry about your wife and daughter; Ill make sure the illusions 
    maintained for them. Theyll have a good life, I promise. What time is left 
    for Sarah will made goodas good as it can be, anyway.
    Then he started laughing to himself.
    Quietly.
    Very, very quietly
    74
    Stonewall was right; by the time Psy-4, Itazura, Radiant, and Killaine 
    arrived back at the warehouse, packing was the last thing on their minds.
    Wheres Zac? asked Stonewall, trying hard not to let his anxiety show in 
    his voice.
    Radiant says that Preston has him, replied Psy-4.
    But shes not sure?
    Not one hundred percent, no, but right now its all we have to go on.
    Stonewall nodded grimly, then pulled Psy-4 aside. How serious are Zacs 
    wounds?
    Not life-threatening, but he was hurt pretty bad.
    Stonewall nodded once again.
    Psy-4 looked into his brothers eyes. What is it?
    Singer and I began dismantling everything
    good thinking
    and before I began breaking down the computers I thought it would be best 
    to check on Roy and Prestons system.
    And?
    I think you need to telepath with Roy one more time before I say any
    What is it?
    Stonewall almost couldnt look at Psy-4. There were some odd codes. I cant 
    be certain but I think that Preston has initiated a program override on the 
    remaining time on the D and D.
    Psy-4 froze. Oh, shit.
    Uh-huh.
    The two of them ran toward the computer room.
    75
    Zac opened his eyes and saw stars.
    And Within those stars, a diffuse ball of light.
    Am I dead? he wondered.
    Then realized he was lying on his back, his head propped up by thick, soft 
    pillows.
    He was on a sofa.
    In an office.
    Facing a large window.
    He tried to sit up but couldnt.
    There was no pain from his wound, and as he slowly turned his head toward 
    his wounded shoulder he saw that a large section of his shirt and jacket had 
    been cut away. His shoulder was covered by a heavy cast.
    He craned his head slightly and saw the IV bag dangling from a stand behind 
    him. A clear plastic tube ran from the IV down toward his arm, vanishing 
    beneath a gauze pad and several strips of medical tape.
    He let his head fall back into the mound of pillows.
    Hello, Zachary, said a lilting female voice.
    At first Zac smiled, thinking that Killaine and the others had found him; 
    then he took a deep breath and coughed on the stench of cigarette smoke.
    Hed almost forgotten that there was someone else besides Killaine who 
    called him Zachary.
    Hello, Annabelle, he whispered, turning his head slightly.
    He was on the sofa in Prestons office. Across from him was Prestons desk 
    and seated in Prestons chairthe back of which faced him at the momentwas 
    Annabelle.
    Slowly, she turned around, smiling at him. Its been a long time.
    Not long enough, Zac replied.
    Annabelle pursed her lips and made a tsk-tsk sound. Now, Zachary, is that 
    any way to behave? After Simmons and I rushed you to PTSIs emergency 
    medical building? The surgeons were worried you might lose part of your arm, 
    but I convinced them to install some alloy and pins. Youll have an ugly 
    mass of scar tissue attached to you, but your shoulder should be as good 
    aswell, functional enough in four or five months.
    Delightful.
    Do try to keep your effusive gratitude down to a low roar. Annabelle rose 
    from Prestons chair and crossed over to the sofa. She began to sit on empty 
    space but in a flash Simmons was there with another chair, sliding it under 
    her and breaking her fall. She smiled at Simmons, then crossed her legs and 
    leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. Weve a lot of catching up 
    to do, Zacharybut, unfortunately, not a lot of time.
    Did you hear that? croaked Zac.
    What?
    The sound of my heart breaking.
    Annabelle laughed loudly. Oh, Zacharybelieve it or not, Ive missed having 
    you around.
    Zac looked at the window again and saw the outline of Prestons bank of 
    monitors.
    He wondered if Annabelle knew about the hidden doorway and staircase.
    She reached over and brushed some hair out of his eyes. Letting yourself 
    get a little sloppy in your old age.
    My social life isnt as active as it used to be. Zac was surprised that he 
    was this lucid; he wondered what sort of anesthetic the surgeons had used on 
    him.
    Where did we go wrong, Zachary?
    You make it sound like we were high-school sweethearts who broke up after 
    the prom.
    Annabelle responded with something between a smirk and a sneer. You know 
    what I mean.
    Zac sighed. Why dont you just ask me what you want to know? 
    Fine. Where are the I-Bots?
    My guess is getting ready to come here.
    Now she smiled. Thats what I was hoping to hear.
    You already knew the answer to that, said Zac. Now stop blowing smoke up 
    my ass and tell me what it is you really wanted to know.
    Annabelle scooted closer. Have you designed a new prototype?
    Zac smiled. If I have, youll never find the blueprints.
    Oh, give me a little credit, Zachary. Do you think Im so naive as to think 
    youd still be careless enough to put something that valuable down on paper 
    or enter it into a hard-drive file? Youre too smart these days for that. 
    She touched his cheek, then ran her hand up to his forehead. No, if youve 
    a new prototype designed, its all in here, she put a finger against his 
    temple. And if I know you, the design isnt in any preliminary stages. 
    Youve got it stored away full-blown, every minute detail worked out. She 
    sat back and lit a fresh cigarette, blowing the smoke in Zacs face. All 
    you lack to bring your new creation into existence is the backing. So why 
    dont you and I quit this irritating cat-and-mouse game weve been playing? 
    Come back to WorldTech, Zachary. You belong there.
    Go to hell.
    Annabelle shook her head. Such language! I remember you as always having 
    been a gentleman.
    People change.
    I havent.
    I said people.
    Annabelles face turned into a granite mask. Dont lets make this too 
    personal, Zachary.
    Why not? This whole things been personal since the day I left WorldTech.
    Annabelle leaned forward and jabbed out with her cigarette; its glowing tip 
    was less than an inch from Zacs face. I confided in you, Zachary. I 
    trusted you enough to share my most secret plans with you, my precious and 
    worthwhile goals, and you thanked me by stealing my property and doing all 
    you could to hurt my name and reputation.
    Now it was Zacs turn to laugh loudly. Precious and worthwhile goals? 
    Dont make me laugh much harder or Ill pop a vein!
    Dont mock me, Dr. Robillard!
    Then dont sugarcoat your precious goals! Not with me, Annabelle!
    She crushed out her cigarette, lit a fresh one. What was so terrible about 
    what I had in mind?
    Nothing, if you subscribe to Ceau?escus theory that humanity can only be 
    effectively ruled by fear and genetic purification.
    Dont compare me with that, that
    Zac managed to pull himself up enough to keep his face almost level with 
    hers. The whole purpose of the I-Botics programat least as you outlined it 
    for me initiallywas to create a workforce of teachers, an automated race 
    designed to handle the complexities of computer programming, lunar mining, 
    fusion engineering, laser communications, neurophysiology, and so on.
    To compel the advance of technology, yes, said Annabelle.
    But there was a bit more to it than that, wasnt there?
    I will not listen to your paranoid
    Wasnt there?
    Yes! But you, the mighty Zachary Robillard, you couldnt see past the 
    surface of the goals, oh, nonot the grandson of the great Benjamin 
    Robillard! You were so busy climbing up on your antiquated soapbox and 
    spouting your grandfathers code of morality that you refused to see the 
    beauty of my logic.
    The beauty of your logic? shouted Zac. Oh, thats rich. You decide to use 
    I-Botics to lay the groundwork for totally wiping out the sub work of 
    humanity
    the mind-numbing, soul-sucking grunt work, Zachary! The pushing and 
    digging and filing and punching and clicking and all the repetitive motions 
    done by the mind and body that could be done so much more effectively and 
    exactingly by robots.
    Yes, said Zac. A completely controlled workforce to ensure that the world 
    could be run so well and smoothly that only a handful of human foremen 
    would be needed to engage in the few remaining professions and supervisory 
    positions to ensure that the rest of the world remained housed, fed, and 
    cared for. How stupid do you think I am, Annabelle? Did you really think it 
    wouldnt eventually occur to me that these supervisors would be answerable 
    only to you? And to whom would Annabelle Donohoe answer? No one!
    You make it sound as if Ive some sort of demigod complex.
    What the hell else would you call it? An admirable career goal?
    Stop making it sound as if I thought of no one but myself, yelled 
    Annabelle. We both knew that the future would be owned by those who 
    understood the complexities of the emerging technologies. During all our 
    arguments, all your rages, did you ever once stop to ask yourself what was 
    going to happen to people like those you see living in the streets or 
    hurrying into the hellish factories every morning, their pitiful little 
    metal lunch pails tucked under their arms? Sure, they can operate a metal 
    press, they can run a lathe, but what good is that when faced with the 
    control board of a fusion chamber? Face it, Zacharythere is no place in the 
    future for that sort of worker, menial laborers with at-best limited 
    mechanical skills. Already weve seen over forty-three percent of the 
    blue-collar workforce replaced by robots, and in another five years, ten at 
    the most, all of those jobs will be performed by robots. Did you ever ask 
    yourself where the noble janitors would fit in, or wonder what would become 
    of the dependable trash collectors? What of them, Zachary? What of the 
    broom-pushers and window-cleaners with only a grade-school education? What 
    fate lies waiting for the butcher, the baker, the old candlestick maker who 
    are still holding onto their soon-to-be lost jobs? What will happen when the 
    robots are finally, totally in place?
    Zac snorted a derisive laughed. You really expect me to believe youve 
    worried and agonized over the plight of the common man during all this?
    Yes!
    Bullshit, Annabelle! Do I look like I just fell off the turnip truck?
    Yes, actually.
    Oh, hardy-har.
    Annabelle shrugged. You asked.
    You jump down my throat about not considering what would happen to the 
    broom-pushers and menial laborers wholl be swallowed up in the technocratic 
    future thats already overpowering us? Turn the question back on yourself, 
    Annabelle! What are those people going to do when you strip them of a job? 
    Whats going to happen when your noble plan goes into effect and they find 
    themselves with nothing to do?
    Dont you see, Zacharythats where the I-Bots come in! Each person, 
    regardless of their level of education or their station in life, can be 
    assigned a teacher that can open their eyes to their dormant potential. Each 
    person, guided by a teaching machine sophisticated enough to offer an 
    endless array of human activity, can discover and then master what he or she 
    is best suited for. Think of the dreamless ones who can be given the 
    opportunity to achieve their dreams! What is so evil about that? In the 
    properly automated and educated world, machines such as the I-Bots could 
    prove to be the true humanizing influence! The I-Bots can teach while the 
    other robots and machines do the menial tasks that make living possible, 
    while human beings can do all the things that make life rich and adventurous 
    and enjoyable!
    Then why insist, snapped Zac, on the robots and I-Bots being designed 
    more and more to resemble human beings? Why design machines that are based 
    on the human form?
    Annabelle stared at him. Im not sure I
    Zac pulled himself up into a full sitting position. We began with machines. 
    Those machines became robots molded in our own image. Then we took the next 
    step, we created the I-Bots, cybernetic organisms that are indistinguishable 
    from human beings except upon the closest inspection. Why? Why go through 
    the process of wiping out the subwork of humanity by building more humanlike 
    machines? Why not just try reeducating human society by offering free 
    seminars and classes to the broom-pushers and trash-collectors and 
    candlestick makers? Learn fusion at home. Master neurophysiology with a 
    free home computer and this program. A society that wants to better itself 
    can better itself.
    Annabelle sneered at him. Still have the old soapbox handy, I see.
    Answer my question, Annabelle. Why go to such lengths to relieve humanity 
    of the burden of work if you only plan to replace human workers with 
    mechanical workers designed to look like human workers?
    Most of the worlds menial tasks have been designed to be carried out by 
    humanoid beings.
    Then why was WorldTech so hell-bent to eventually turn all antiquated 
    robots into I-Bots? Why were you so determined to produce an army of 
    humanlike cybernetic organisms?
    Annabelle only stared at him.
    Because, snarled Zac, your ultimate goal, your hidden agenda, was not to 
    give humanity room to realize its potential, but to create a new and highly 
    selective aristocracy, and like all aristocracies throughout history, in 
    order to live in luxury and exquisite idleness, you require sweat off the 
    backs of slaves, serfs, and peasants. Knowing damn well that no human being 
    with an ounce of dignity would allow themselves to be ruled that way, your 
    goal was to create a humanlike peasantrybecause, after all, how can an 
    aristocracy revel in its superiority if there is no one to be feel superior 
    to?
    Annabelle, wide-eyed, shook her head. I think all these years of running 
    having finally sent you off your nut, Zachary. Youve gone completely 
    insane.
    Zac pushed himself forward as best he could, his face only two inches from 
    hers. Not only did you wish to create a new aristocracy, Annabelle, but you 
    also knew that a certain percentage of the people you put out of work would 
    become depressed and simply allow themselves to rotbut the restthe rest, 
    as you say, would turn to mechanical teachers, who would have been 
    programmed to teach them only as much as you wished for them to be taught. 
    You couldnt give less of a damn about the common folk learning the liberal 
    arts or gaining an appreciation for music or poetry or philosophyyou and 
    your chosen followers would have complete, unadulterated, unchallenged, 
    irrevocable, andbest of allhidden control of all things human and robotic. 
    What more could you want? To rule a world that doesnt even realize its 
    being ruled.
    Well, fuck you, Annabelle Donohoe. I will not give you the materials or 
    information you need to enslave those you see as being inferior to 
yourself.
    I take it, then, that our little stroll down memory lane is finished?
    I hope I live long enough to piss in your open grave, Annabelle. Zac 
    nodded. Now its finished.
    Fine. Annabelle crushed out her cigarette, took a deep breath, then 
    grabbed a vase from a nearby table and smashed it against the side of Zacs 
    head.
    There was a moment of blinding, intense pain, and then an incessant, dull 
    throbbing.
    He was aware of several things happening at once; Simmons setting a large 
    iron box on the floor near Annabelles feet, someone else handing Annabelle 
    a black case roughly the size of palm-top computer; then Annabelle, rising 
    from her chair, opening the lid of the case, and removing a bright, shiny 
    syringe filled with an oddly colored liquid.
    Im going to give you one last chance, Zachary, to cooperate. She tapped 
    the side of the syringe to make sure there were no bubbles, then leaned over 
    and stuck the needle into the IV tube, pressing down on the plunger until 
    the syringe was emptied.
    Do you know what that was?
    no He could barely get the word out.
    Dizziness. Nausea.
    Then Annabelle lifted his head and gave him a long, luxurious drink of cool, 
    cool water. Better now?
    a little, yeah
    Another cool drink, and Zacs head began to clear.
    Back with me now? asked Annabelle.
    sure
    Simmons, she said.
    Simmons rolled a television stand over, positioning it at the far end of the 
    sofa so Zac could get a good view of the screen.
    Turning on the set, Simmons inserted a small video disk into the sets 
    preinstalled player.
    The gentleman you see there, said Annabelle, isor rather, wasnamed 
    James. He was a spy the Board of Directors planted in my companybut thats 
    another story and one youd probably find frightfully boring. Watch what 
    happened to him.
    Zac stared dispassionately at the whole ugly scene, from the first 
    thrashings until the final, fiery, grotesque explosion. He refused to show 
    Annabelle any reaction whatsoever.
    When it was finished, Simmons turned off the television set and rolled it 
    away.
    Annabelle took her seat before Zac once again. Now do you know what I just 
    injected into your system?
    A nanite.
    Annabelle nodded her head. But you didnt get the Jamess brand of nanite; 
    nor did you get the second, deadlier strain; no, for you, Zachary, we used a 
    new, experimental model. It functions at seven times the speed of the 
    others.
    how long? whispered Zac.
    Before the fireworks? An hour and twenty minutes. Give or take a minute or 
    two. Bearing in mind, of course, that this third-strain model has proven to 
    be a bit unstable in some tests.
    So it can go at any time?
    More or less, yes. Or I can always press the button and activate it. Isnt 
    this wonderful? Like playing Russian roulette with a gun that has a hair 
    trigger, only no one knows it but the gun.
    Zac laughed to himself. It hurt like hell. So youre hoping for a deathbed 
    confession or something along those lines?
    Annabelle shook her head. Oh, no; youre far too stubborn for that sort of 
    thing. Im figuring that youve developed a deep affection for your 
    creations over these past five years, and that youll agree to come back to 
    WorldTech not out of any loyalty to me, but because if you dont Ill sit 
    here and watch you die.
    Im prepared to die, said Zac.
    Ill alert the media, said Annabelle with mock-surprise. I know youre 
    prepared to die, Zachary. But consider: The I-Bots are most likely rushing 
    here to save you as we speak. If not, then theyve gone depressingly 
    dimSimmons, Janus, and I planted enough clues with the media that even an 
    amoeba could figure out that youre being held hostage at PTSI.
    So?
    So if youre dead when they get here, Ill have the advantage of shock on 
    my side. That, coupled with a controlled blast from a positron-freezing gun, 
    will enable me to reclaim my property. A triumphant grin. And you know 
    that, once theyre back in my possession, you are arguably expendable. Oh, 
    sure, those scientists I have wont know nearly as much as you, but theyll 
    know enough to reverse engineer the process.
    Zac started at the words reverse engineer. You wouldnt?
    Dismantle them? asked Annabelle. In a heartbeat. So, I figure that youll 
    decide to go on with your miserable, misguided existence not because you 
    care about yourself, but because you care about them.
    Zac glowered at her.
    Because she was right.
    Dammit.
    All right, he said, hoping to buy some time until he figured out what to 
    do. You win. Ill come back. Justundo whatever youve done with the nanite 
    and Ill
    Annabelle laughed. To use your own quaint phrase, Zachary, do I look like I 
    just fell off the turnip truck? If you want to live and cooperate, youre 
    going to have to earn the privilege.
    She rose and nodded her head.
    Simmons came over and lifted the metal box that had been placed at 
    Annabelles feet earlier.
    It was a small safe with an electronic lock.
    Simmons placed the safe on Prestons desk.
    The lock mechanism is voice-activated, said Annabelle. When I press this 
    button, you will speak your name, Zachary; from that moment on the safe will 
    only respond to your voice. In order to unlock it, you have to speak the 
    combination.
    Zac only stared at her, waiting for the punchline.
    When it came, it was a lulu.
    76
    Psy-4 gathered everyone together and explained the situation.
    How long do we have until Roy has to be disconnected? asked Radiant.
    One hour and twenty-seven minutes.
    Give or take ninety seconds, added Stonewall.
    And thats not counting how long its going to take to locate Zac, said 
    Itazura.
    Killaine sat in silence.
    Psy-4 looked at her for a moment, then turned back to the group. All bets 
    are off. Theyll know well be coming after Zac, so the element of surprise 
    is shot. Our only hope is to hit them hard, with everything weve got.
    Singer tapped Psy-4s shoulder.
    Would a large diversion be of use?
    What did you have in mind?
    Hes already explained it to me, said Stonewall. We dont have time to 
    give you the details. Singer, Killaine, and I will take the first van. Give 
    us a five-minute head start, all right?
    Done, said Psy-4. Did you divide the weaponry?
    As evenly as possible, yes, replied Stonewall.
    Where do we meet you? asked Radiant.
    The same area of the fence where we entered for the security test.
    Itazura held up a hand. What about all the equipment?
    Most of its all set to go, said Stonewall. What isnt ready well have 
    to take care of when we get back.
    And if theres not enough time?
    Then we take what we can and blow up the rest.
    Stonewall snapped his fingers at Singer, then grabbed Killaines arm and 
    pulled her to her feet, dragging her toward the steps to the garage bay.
    Five minutes, called Psy-4. Then, to Radiant and Itazura: Lets see how 
    much more of the equipment we can get packed. Something tells me well be 
    leaving in a hell of a hurry once this is over.
    They were heading for the control room when Itazura said, Wheres all my 
    HIR equipment?
    77
    In this safe, said Annabelle, youll find another syringe. This ones 
    filled with a little something we call liquid burn. Its the antidote you 
    need. But heres the tough part, Zachary.
    There was a slip of paper taped to the door of the safe. Annabelle reached 
    over and gently removed the paper, then handed it to Zac.
    There were seven numbers on the paper: 1, 2, 6, 12, 60, 420, and 840.
    An employee of mine who dabbles in math and mystery novels came up with 
    this, said Annabelle. There is an order to that sequence of numbers, 
    though its not as obvious as you might think at first glance. She pressed 
    the button. Say your name.
    Zac remained silent.
    Annabelle nodded.
    Simmons stood by Zac and tossed a small amount of salt into the cut made by 
    the vase earlier.
    Ouch! cried Zac.
    Good enough, said Annabelle, gesturing to the red indicator light at the 
    top of the safe. The mechanism will now respond only to your voice, Zac, 
    andno, dont speak. Whatever you do, for the next several minutes, you 
    absolutely must not speak. Nod if you understand.
    Zac nodded.
    Good. Now, the eighth number in that series completes the combination that 
    will activate the lock mechanism and open the safe. Just to make it tricky, 
    there are several correct solutions to the sequence, but only one will open 
    the safeyoull know which one it isKeep in mind that you are free to move 
    about this office, Zachary; but also keep in mind that we have disconnected 
    the computer, removed Samuels electronic calculator, and taken every piece 
    of paper and writing instrument, so youll have nothing with which to do 
    your figuring. That will have to be done in your head. And in silence.
    You see, Zachary, you can only speak aloud once, which means that you can 
    only recite the combination once; thats all the program allows. Say one 
    word, utter one syllable that isnt the combination, and the program will 
    consider that your guess and shut down and you wont be able to get to the 
    antidote. Understand the rules so far?
    He nodded.
    Good. So now, all you have to do is, in silence, figure out the next number 
    in that sequence and say it aloud. She signaled Simmons, then she began to 
    move toward the office doors. Get it right, and the door will open, youll 
    grab the syringe and inject yourself with the antidote and be a happy 
camper.
    Get it wrong, andwell, you saw what happened to poor Mr. James.
    Before closing the door, she smiled at him and said, And just so you know, 
    Im doing it this way just to make you squirm. Paybacks a bitch, and so am 
    I.
    With that, she smiled, blew him a kiss, then closed and locked the door 
    behind her.
    78
    Driving out of Cemetery Ridge, Stonewall checked his watch, then cast a 
    glance at Singer and asked, Youre positive that the other robots know how 
    to
    Yes.
    Stonewall shook his head in amazement. All of you know the sewer systems 
    that well?
    Yes. You would be surprised how much more quickly you can get around on foot 
    underground than with an automobile or even hover-car on the surface.
    How many HIR units did you program?
    Twenty-two. That is all Itazura had.
    Then itll have to do. Stonewall looked over at Killaine. Are you going 
    to snap out of this anytime soon?
    Ihow could it have happened? She shook her head and turned her face up 
    toward Stonewall. Tell me, Stoner; how was it possible for me to kill him? 
    Not only that, but why havent I ceased all functions?
    Stonewall looked at her, then returned his attention back to the road. I 
    want you to listen very carefully to what Im going to tell you, Killaine, 
    and you mustnt ask any questions, all right?
    I cant promise that.
    Youll have to, because I wont have any answers to them. There are certain 
    areas of our programming that only Zac fully understands, and for his own 
    reasons, he chooses to keep those reasons to himself.
    Over the years, said Stonewall, Zac has entrusted each of us with bits 
    and pieces of information not known to the others. I suppose the practical 
    reason was so, in case any of us were captured or stolen by Annabelle, no 
    one of us on our own would possess all the information shed need. I think 
    the more humanistic reason is so each of us will feel a bond with 
    himsharing a secret with someone just naturally has that effect. He 
    shrugged. Ive also always believed he did it because he wanted us to know 
    what it felt like to have to choose to betray a confidence in order to serve 
    the greater goodto make the kind of difficult choices humans have to make, 
    and in our doing so, becoming a little more humanlikeafter all, we were 
    designed to replace humankind if the worst ever happened so that humanitys 
    best principles wouldnt perish. He sighed, checked the mileage, then 
    continued.
    Here is a secret I share with himor, rather, did share until now: When Zac 
    modified our programming from ordinary robots, he made it possible for us to 
    kill an opponent if it was absolutely necessary. He realized that, because 
    each of us has a different and distinct personality, that certainvariables 
    had to be taken into account. Itazuras playfulness, my aloofness, Radiants 
    vanityyour temper.
    Killaines head snapped back up.
    Youre probably already getting the idea, said Stonewall. By giving each 
    of us the ability to kill, he knew it would only be a matter of time before 
    one of us did. And because the last thing he wanted was for us to look upon 
    the taking of a life dispassionately, to view it simply as a means to an 
    end, something with no emotional price to be paidhe modified the 
    programming further, taking into the account the possibility of an 
    accidental killing.
    Killaine wiped her eyes and whispered. Butwhy?
    Because each of us, in our own way, will sometime, someday have to 
    experience the grief, the guilt, the rage, the confusion, all of the 
    emotions that accompany the act of taking a life, and then learn how to 
    expand our capacity to learn from that pain. Stonewall looked at her and 
    gave a sad smile. You just happened to be the first of us to do so. You now 
    possess knowledge that the rest of us dont: You know what it feels like to 
    kill. So now its up to you to make the rest of us understand the price one 
    pays for that.
    still dont understand why
    Zac has a deep, abiding reverence for lifeall life. Think about ithave 
    you ever seen him so much as swat a mosquito?
    No.
    Even with the DNA he gave to us, Zac knew there was no way he could teach 
    that reverence for life to us. It had to be obtained through experience.
    and so one of us had to be the first to kill.
    Stonewall nodded his head. Im afraid so. And Im afraid it now falls on 
    you to make us comprehend how that makes you feel.
    But what aboutI mean, if I accidentally killed once, whats to prevent me 
    from losing control and doing it again?
    Our individual capacity to learn from what happenedyour capacity, in this 
    instance. We may very well be put in a position again where we have to kill 
    in order to save human lives from certain death. All we can do now is our 
    best to not put ourselves in a position where killing may be necessarya 
    conscious, individual choice on each of our parts.
    But face the facts, Killaine; an absolute no kill rule for all of us, 
    given Annabelles pursuit and some of the security work we do, would be a 
    disaster.
    Theres now a kind of fail-safe device that links us all together. Because 
    you have done what youve done, you have activated a sort of gestalt 
    mechanism contained in each of us; from this day on all of us start learning 
    the hard lessons that taking a life has to teach us.
    Lessons?
    Knowing what you do now, knowing how it feels to take a human life, would 
    you ever do so again and take it lightly?
    No, nonever!
    Youll link that to the rest of us nowuntil it happens with another one of 
    us. He reached over and placed one of his mighty hands atop Killaines. 
    Robots arent supposed to be able to kill, but were not robots-not wholly, 
    anyway. Human beings shouldnt kill, but they do. And were partly humanat 
    least, in the psychological and emotional sense. Like it or not, violence is 
    a fact of our existence. We cannot be like regular robots who are physically 
    incapable of killing. Zac knew this when he made the modifications. We can 
    take a life under the most extreme of circumstances, Killaine, but, with 
    your guidance now, well learn to value all levels and forms of life.
    Killaine shook her head. So Im the standard-bearer for I-Botic freewill?
    Thats pretty much it. Its the first day of a new school for all of us 
    now. He touched her cheek. If its any comfort to you, I would have torn 
    the little bastard in half for shooting Zac and that boy.
    Killaine leaned up and kissed Stonewalls cheek. Thanks, Stoner.
    He looked at her. Feel better?
    Nobut I can now believe I will. Eventually.
    Well, then.
    Yes. Well, then.
    79
    1, 2, 6, 12, 60, 420, 840.
    Zac stared at the numbers.
    Okay, Zachary, think, think.
    Begin with placement, then try division.
    In any incomplete/interrupted sequence of numbers (if he remembered his 
    Euclidian logic correctly), you have to remember to count the number of the 
    place of the missing digit.
    There were seven numbers, but eight places; and once you have the eighth 
    number, you have to remember to count the ninth place, even if you dont 
    have that number.
    Piece of cake.
    Right, he thought: And if you believe that, odds are youll find a guy with 
    some prime real estate to sell in the Florida swamps.
    But that sort of thinking was getting him nowhere.
    He looked at the numbers again.
    The larger numbers could be easily divided in countless ways, but the key 
    had to be with the smaller numbers.
    To whit: 1 can only be divided by 1 itself.
    2 can be divided by both 1 and 2.
    6 can be divided evenly by 1, 2, and 3in fact, it was the smallest number 
    that could be divided by those digits.
    Except theres no three, you moron! Zac scolded himself.
    Unless it has something to do with consecutive digits beginning with 1 that 
    can serve as divisors. 6 appeared third in the series, so the number 3 must 
    be relevant.
    Okay, maybe, maybe there was something there.
    Go with it, he thought.
    He managed to get to his feet and, taking hold of the IV rack, began to 
    slowly pace.
    He nearly fell at first from the initial dizziness but caught himself on the 
    edge of Prestons desk.
    All right, then: 12 appears fourth in the series. 12 can be divided evenly 
    by 1, 2, 3, and 4. Okay, Zac old man, youre onto something.
    The fifth number was 60. That could be evenly divided by 1, 2, 3, 4, 5and 
6!
    Six. How could he have overlooked the most often-employed number in long 
    division? Not only that, but he wasnt taking into account the fact that 
    there was an eighth number in the series, so even though he didnt have the 
    number itself, he did have its placenumber 8.
    Whoa, Zachold the phone. Didnt you start off reminding yourself of that?
    Dammit to hell! This was notrepeat notthe time to let himself confuse 
    himself.
    Zac increased the speed of his pacing.
    420 could be divided evenly by all the previous digits and the number of 
    their placement in the series1 through 7right: and the final number, 840, 
    was divisible by all the digits and the number of their placement in the 
    series: 1 through 8.
    Okay, all right, getting closer, have to be getting closer now
    He stumbled again, almost crying out, but managed to choke back his voice at 
    the last second.
    Son-of-a-bitching IV!
    He looked at Prestons desk until he found what he was looking for: a tape 
    dispenser.
    He pulled off several strips of plastic tape and attached them to the edge 
    of the desk.
    Then he gently removed the gauze pad, cotton balls, and medical tape that 
    covered the spot where the IV needle entered his vein.
    He scanned the top of the desk again and found a large eraser, which he 
    picked up, dusted off, then clenched between his teeth.
    He took a deep breath, then quickly pulled the IV needle from his arm.
    For a moment, there was a frightening amount of blood.
    Zac pressed the gauze pad and cotton balls to the wound and bent his arm, 
    then quickly grabbed up the medical tape and strips of plastic tape and 
    slapped them to the gauze, pulling each strip tighter than the one before.
    It took a moment, and he had to spend two minutes holding his arm over his 
    head, but eventually the bleeding stopped.
    Exhausted, he staggered back over to the sofa and sat down.
    Okay, where was I?
    The seventh number, 840, and the missing eighth digit.
    The next number in the series, which damn well better be the combination or 
    he was toast, should be the smallest number that could be divided evenly by 
    all the previous numbers and the number of the space following: 1 through 9.
    If you multiply 840 by 3, the product is divisible by 9 and remains 
    divisible by all the lesser digits in the sequence. And, since 840 
    multiplied by 3 isiscmon, cmon, you used to be good at thiscarry the 
    1add that to theright, right840 times 3 is 2520.
    The combination has to be 2520!
    He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed once again.
    Not because he was uncertain of the solution.
    Not because he doubted his logic.
    Not because he was worried that he might slur his words.
    No; Zac Robillard shut his mouth because he was afraid he might laughnot 
    only at Annabelles remarkable cleverness, but at his own stupidity, as 
well.
    2520 had been his employee number when he worked at WorldTech.
    Taking a deep breath and composing himself, Zac opened his mouth and spoke 
    slowly and clearly.
    2, 5, 2, 0.
    The safe buzzed, clicked, and the door swung open, revealing the case 
within.
    Zac stumbled over, retrieved the case, and opened it.
    Annabelle hadnt been lying; there was the syringe.
    But what if its a trick? he suddenly thought. What if the initial shot was 
    nothing more than colored water and this syringe contains the nanite?
    NoAnnabelle would have stayed to watch if she was going to pull something 
    that perverted.
    And, whether she was willing to admit it or notAnnabelle Donohoe never 
    admitted to any weaknessZac was useful to her.
    He tapped the side of the syringe to remove any bubbles, then found a nice, 
    plump vein, and gave himself the shot.
    After that, he fumbled around Prestons desk until he found the hidden 
    button, pressed it, and opened the secret passage behind the monitor banks.
    Time to see where you go, he thought, and began to slowly, cautiously, 
    descend the iron spiral staircase.
    80
    It took Singer a little more than nine minutes to place the portable HIR 
    units at various locales surrounding the outskirts of the PTSI compound.
    He returned to the spot where, now, all the I-Bots were assembled.
    Well? asked Stonewall.
    Singer gave him the thumbs-up sign.
    I cant believe you were messing around with my equipment, whispered 
    Itazura.
    Singer put a hand on Itazuras shoulder, then signed, Sorrybut wait until 
    you see the modifications I made.
    Modifications?
    Shhhh! said Psy-4. We have to take a vote.
    On what? snapped Radiant.
    Do we focus solely on retrieving Zac or do we try for both Zac and Roy?
    The rest of them exchanged confused glances.
    Itazura was the one who said it: After all this, youre willing to abandon 
    Roy?
    Psy-4 glared at him. Weve got seventy-nine minutes until the final D and D 
    stage is complete. Given a choice between Roy and Zac, there is no choice.
    You have to hate that.
    What I feel about it doesnt matterwhich is why Im not voting. Singer can 
    have my vote. Its up to the rest of you: Zac or Zac and Roy?
    Why either/or? inquired Singer.
    Because began Psy-4.
    Shut up, said Killaine.
    I beg your pardon?
    I said, shut up. She looked at the others. I say we split up. Psy-4 and 
    Radiant already know Roys physical location. They head to the lab, the rest 
    of us will search for Zac.
    What about Singer? asked Stonewall.
    Killaine smiled and put a hand on the robots shoulder. Singers going to 
    be busy creating a diversion for us, arent you, my friend?
    Diversion is so mild a word for what I have in mind.
    Killaine put out her hand. Does everyone agree?
    All of them, Singer included, placed their hands into the circle.
    Then we are decided, said Psy-4.
    They broke the circle, waiting for Singers signal.
    Singer activated the main HIR unit, checked the signal strength, then 
    signed: Nothing up my sleevePresto!
    And with the flick of a switch the grounds surrounding the PTSI compound 
    were swarming with an army of robots.
    Lets move. said Psy-4.
    And the siege began.
     
    Control, this is East Tower Two, over.
    Go ahead East Tower Two, over.
    We have initiated security lights and have established visual contact with 
    a large group of robots, approximately twenty-five to thirty in number, 
    armed and moving toward the Sector B entrance gate. Please advise, over.
    East Tower Two, are you certain that the robots are armed, over.
    Affirmative. The largest of the group is carrying what appears to be an 
    M-60, over.
    Silence.
    Control, we need permission to open fire, over.
    East Tower Two, the order is given; commence firing upon intruders, over 
    and out.
     
    Once inside the gates, Radiant rerouted the energy of all security sensors 
    so the I-Bots could move quickly and undetected toward the main building.
    They were less than one hundred feet from the basement entranceway when one 
    of the guard towers opened fire with a large, fully automatic machine-gun.
    What the hell? said Itazura.
    Theyre firing on the robots, whispered Radiant.
    How long do you think it will be until they figure out theyre holos?
    Not before Singer activates the next batch. Now, come on!
     
    Control, this is North Tower One
    Control, this is Security Kiosk Seven, South-West Sector
    Control, this is Observation Booth Five, Main Building
    we have visual contact with a large group of robots
    we have established visual contact with what appears to be a band of 
    robots
    visuals on a group of robots, approximately thirty to forty in number
    please advise
    please advise
    please advise
     
    The guards were just moving McCarricks body from the computer room when one 
    of their portable radios squawked loudly. The guard answered at once, then 
    looked toward Preston.
    Sir?
    What?
    We have a situation outside the compound.
    So? Handle it.
    Control respectfully asks that you pick up on line one.
    Preston groaned and snatched up the receiver. This had better be damned 
    good.
    He listened to what Control had to say.
    His face grew pale.
    Then he nodded his head and said: You have authorization to use any and all 
    means at your disposal to stop them. Yes, including explosives. Keep me 
    advised. He slammed down the phone, turned toward the guards, and said, 
    Why are you still here?
    Because I told them not to be in such a hurry, said Annabelle, stepping 
    into the room.
    And thats when Preston saw the WorldTech guards relieving his own security 
    of the burden of their weapons.
     
    Down in the lower-level corridor, Psy-4 and Radiant went left while 
    Stonewall, Killaine, and Itazura went right.
    Alarms were sounding everywhere.
    I dont know how much longer I can control all this, said Radiant. Too 
    much is happening at once.
    Do the best you can, shouted Psy-4.
    He grabbed her hand and they ran toward the branch in the hallway where 
    Psy-4 had first experienced the feeling of fear and loneliness.
    They made a sharp right.
    And there was the door.
    And there was the wall-mounted hand-scanner.
    And there was another door where one hadnt been before, and then suddenly, 
    like a ghost from an old Gothic novel, there was a hunched and twisted 
    figure coming right the hell out of the wall, and Psy-4 lunged for it 
    because it was carrying what looked like a very large gun.
     
    The security towers hit the oncoming robots with everything they had; from 
    heavy strafing with mounted M-60s to hand grenades and rocket launchers.
    Nothing stopped them.
    Nothing harmed them.
    Nothing even seemed to touch them.
    And just when it seemed there couldnt possibly be any more of the damned 
    things, four more reported sightings came in.
     
    Hidden within the trees and foliage, Singer checked the main HIR unit.
    Hed engaged less than half the portable units.
    He looked toward the compound, saw the lights in the night, the muzzle-flash 
    of all the firepower, the smoke hanging in the air from the grenades and 
    rockets, and wondered how anyone could manage to see anything through all 
    the fire, smoke, and debris.
    Then decided it didnt matter.
    And activated the next series of three units.
    The magnified images appeared.
    If he werent so worried, this might actually have been fun.
     
    Holy shit! Tower Three, this is Tower Five. Are you guys seeing what Im 
    seeing?
    No way, Tower Five, that Im going to be the one to say it.
    Towers Three and Five, this is Control. When you are on this frequency you 
    will observe the rules of
    with all due respect, Control, look out your east window.
    Towers Three and Five, be advised that all personnel assigned to youroh, 
    holy shit!
    Told you. This is Tower Threewere getting the hell out of Dodge. Over and 
    out.
     
    All over the compound tower guards were freezing at the sight of dozens of 
    IA-2112 model mining robots running toward the gates.
    The IA-2112 models were rumored to be at least twice the size of a normal 
    mining robot.
    Those rushing at the gates were easily eight times that size; nineteen feet 
    from the bottoms of their feet to the tops of their heads.
    That is, while on all fours and running.
    Standing straight up, the things had to be at least thirty feet in height.
    Most of the tower guards got the same idea at roughly the same moment.
    Time to go
     
    Making certain that the guards in the towers nearest him were vacating their 
    posts, Singer readied the first of several mini-ShellBlasters hed found 
    among the I-Bots arsenal.
    He focused on the closest tower, watching as the guards threw open the trap 
    door and started running down the stairs.
    He waited until they were just past the halfway point, well out of danger, 
    and set the ShellBlaster on his shoulder, took aim, and fired.
    The rocket slammed into the top of the tower at the same time the magnified 
    image of the IA-2112 reached the area.
    The tower went up in a mushroom of fire, smoke, and metal.
    To anyone watching from a distance, it would have appeared that the giant 
    IA-2112 had rammed the tower and blown up.
    Singer tossed aside the empty ShellBlaster, checked to make sure the 
    escaping guards were unharmedthey werethen grabbed up an armful of the 
    rocket launchers and ran for the next tower.
    The IA-2112 holo ought to be reaching it anytime now.
     
    The phone buzzed again and Preston grabbed the receiver.
    Sir, this is Control again. We have reports of oversized IA-2112 model 
    robots destroying security towers.
    Can you confirm this?
    Yes, sir. Theyre big mothers.
    Preston rubbed his eyes, glared at Annabelle, then sighed. All right, then, 
    we dont have much of a choice: Sound the evacuation signal and unlock all 
    underground entrances. I want you to remain at your post, along with any 
    guards whose towers have been reduced to rubble.
    He didnt wait for a response.
    Annabelle was standing right in front of him.
    Preston looked up at her and was amazed by her face.
    Usually your One Great Love doesnt look a thing like you remember.
    Annabelle looked even more beautiful than hed recalled.
    Hello, Sam, she whispered.
    Even she was unable to hide the pity in her eyes.
    Do I look that bad? asked Preston.
    yes she said softly, then touched his cheek.
    Preston couldnt help it.
    He leaned forward, pressing his face into her midsection and wrapping his 
    arms around her.
    Im so scared, Annabelle.
    Shhh, she said, stroking the back of his head. Its all right now, Im 
    here, Ill take care of everything. You dont need to
    She froze.
    Preston could feel her body tense.
    What the hell is happening here? she said.
    Preston pulled back and looked at her.
    Her face was so cold, her eyes even colder.
    She was looking through the glass partition at the computer and the 
    platinum-iridium brain installed in the center of everything.
    Preston began to look at it, also, not really thinking about ithed seen it 
    enough timesbut then he caught a quick glimpse of what had Annabelle so 
    mesmerized; a little thing, really, something Preston had seen every day for 
    five years and so didnt really think about it, didnt actually see it, any 
    longer.
    A label.
    Thats all.
    Just one of those little stick-on plastic name gizmos that you make with a 
    handheld label-maker.
    No big thing, really.
    Until now, that is.
    His gaze locked on it like that of a condemned man locking on the rifles 
    held by the members of a firing squad.
    All over, all gone, bye-bye, he thought, reaching over to touch the label.
        The little one that was no Big Thing, really.
        The little one he never thought about.
        The little one with ROY printed on it.
    It wasnt until Psy-4 was about to throw himself headlong into the figure 
    that Radiant caught a surge of familiar energy emanating toward her and 
    called out, Zac!
    He moved just in time.
    Psy-4, trapped by his own momentum and unable to stop his charge, blew past 
    Zac and slammed headfirst into a section of the wall, burying himself up to 
    the shoulders.
    Zac fell back against the door and slid to the floor. That had to hurt.
    oh, yeah whispered Psy-4 from somewhere deep in the plaster.
    Radiant ran over to Zac, dropped to her knees, and threw her arms around him 
    as best she could, considering the cast. Oh, Zac, we were all so worried 
    that Preston hadhad
    Its okay, he whispered to her. Now, what say we round up the others and 
    get out of here before
    Theres something you need to know, said Psy-4, pulling himself from the 
    wall and shaking off the dust, plaster, and chunks of drywall.
    Zac grinned a pained grin. Let me guessdoes it have something to do with 
    my birthday present?
    Yes.
    He looked at Radiant, then at Psy-4. I am all at attention.
    Psy-4 cleared his throat and began to explain about Roy.
    Of course, Zac would have to settle for the Readers Digest Condensed 
    version, seeing as how they had less than fifty-eight minutes left.
     
    The employees of PTSI, having heard the emergency evacuation signal, headed 
    en masse for the underground shelters, only to find, as the huge, 
    electronically controlled iron doors swung open, that there were things 
    waiting for them inside.
    Each of the twelve underground shelters contained an underground vent for 
    air.
    These vents either crisscrossed or passed directly through other, larger 
    vents.
    Including a large cement sewer drain.
    The robots whod been hiding under the IPS, Inc., building had wound their 
    subterranean way through the tunnels to emerge, as planned, into the 
    emergency shelters of PTSI.
    The evacuating employees, their nerves already frazzled by the explosions 
    and panic outside the walls, screamed at the sight of the robots emerging 
    from the depths, turned tail, and ran blindly through the corridors and 
    offices, smashing windows and overturning furniture, anything at all to 
    either get out of the building or lay hands on something to serve as a 
    weapon.
     
    Itazura, Killaine, and Stonewall smashed through the doors of Prestons 
    office, StunShooters at the ready.
    The place was not empty, but it had been seriously trashed.
    They saw the scattered papers.
    The knocked-over furniture.
    The IV stand.
    The safe and empty syringes.
    And the bloodstains on the sofa and floor.
    He was here, said Killaine. Zac was in hererecently.
    How can you tell? asked Itazura.
    Is that or is that not Old Spice I smell?
    Gotcha.
    Then Stonewall spotted the hidden door behind the monitors. If no ones got 
    any better ideas, I say we try it.
    Itazura and Killaine were already heading down the spiral staircase before 
    hed finished saying try.
    Stonewall was right behind them, pulling the bank of monitors back in place 
    behind him.
     
    Singer just finished blowing up the fifth guard towerwhich, to all 
    witnesses, appeared to be the work of an out-of-control, oversized 
    IA-2112and was just returning to check the HIR unit when he saw a crowd of 
    shadows pass through one of the distant, smoky security lights.
    He remained very still, focusing his photoelectric eyes and activating their 
    zoom lenses.
    Another rush of shadows.
    And this time he saw one of them clearly.
    Stompers.
    Heavily armed.
    He looked down at the HIR unit, activated the remaining images, and was 
    readying to head into the compound when his leg scraped against something.
     
    So wheres the portable chamber? asked Zac.
    Psy-4 looked at Radiant, who shook her head and said, I was too anxious 
    about Zac and didnt think to
    Dammit! hissed Psy-4, smashing his fist into another section of the wall 
    and burying his arm up to the elbow. Dammit to hell! How could I have made 
    such a stupid mistake?
    Radiant came over and put her hands on his shoulders. A lot was happening 
    very quickly and all of us were worried about Zac.
    But
    No buts; we didnt know if he was still alive.
    Psy-4 yanked his arm from the wall, whirled around, and grabbed Radiant by 
    the shoulders. Thats no excuse! There is no excuse for a mistake of this 
    magnitude!
    Radiant placed a hand against Psy-4s chest, punching a hole in his anxiety 
    and calming him slightly. Weve still got a way to buy a little time.
    What?
    She produced a palmtop computer from her supply pouch. The Catherine Wheel 
    program.
    Zacs head snapped up. You didnt?
    We had to, whispered Psy-4. We needed to make sure that everything was in 
    complete and total anarchy before we made our move to disconnect Roy from 
    the mainframe.
    Zac glared at the two of them Why didnt you come to me? I would have 
    understood.
    We thought you didnt need anything more to worry about, replied Radiant.
    Im a big boy, Radiant. From now on, let me be the judge of what I can and 
    cannot deal with, or elseoh, screw it! Well settle this later. He grabbed 
    the palmtop from Radiants hands. I assume, Psy-4, that you preset the 
    initiation time?
    Yes, but
    Shut up, snapped Zac. Im also assuming that thishe held up the 
    palmtopis programmed with an override sequence in case the need arose to 
    activate the program before its preset time? Youd damn well better say 
yes.
    Yes.
    Zac nodded his head. Good thinking. Give me everything but the last three 
    numbers.
    Psy-4 rattled off the sequence, stopping where Zac had ordered.
    Zac entered the sequence, then looked at Radiant. Can you go back and get 
    the portable chamber?
    Absolutely.
    Zac looked at his watch. Fifty-two minutes. Which means that the 
    fifteen-minute window of opportunity
    on either side, said Psy-4.
    on either side isshittwenty-two minutes away, allowing time to set up. 
    Zac looked at Radiant. You waiting for a good-bye kiss? Go!
    She gave him a quick salute. Aye-aye, sir!
    And took off at roughly the same time Itazura, Killaine, and Stonewall 
    emerged from the hidden door behind Zac.
    Zac whirled around and faced them. About time.
    They were momentarily too stunned to respond.
    Happy to see you, too, said Zac, smiling. Sorry, but we dont have time 
    for a warm and fuzzy reunion. Killaine, I want you tofirst of all, how are 
    you doing?
    Much better, thank you.
    Good. Radiants on her way to retrieve the portable chamber. Go after her 
    and run interference in case someone tries to stop her. You up to that?
    Killaines answer was a quick kiss on Zacs cheek, then she was gonea blur 
    and a memory.
    Itzy, barked Zac. Get outside and secure some sort of vehicle for usI 
    dont give a damn if its a Jeep, a chopper, or a bunch of Schwinn 
    ten-speeds; get something.
    But the vans are parked just outside the compound, Itazura responded.
    Repeat what you just said.
    The vans are parked just outside theoh.
    Zac nodded. Right. The vans arent going to do us a whole helluva lot of 
    good outside the compound, are they? We have to get to them first!
    Itazura shrugged in embarrassment. Silly me.
    Then he became a blur and a memory.
    Stoner, snapped Zac.
    Yessir?
    Come over here and stand behind me.
    Stonewall did as he was instructed. Now what?
    Catch me, buddy; Im getting dizzy.
    Zac collapsed into Stonewalls arms, conscious but momentarily disoriented.
     
    Control, this is Security Kiosk Nine, we need Tower Personnel to confirm a 
    visual.
    Kiosk Nine, why havent you abandoned your post? The evacuation alarm has 
    been sounding for several minutes.
    Control, are there any Tower Personnel still at their post? We really need 
    a second visual confirmation on this.
    Control, this is West Tower Six, McPherson speaking, over.
    McPherson, can you confirm whatever in the hell it is that Security Kiosk 
    Nine is seeing?
    Affirmative, Control, over.
    Well?
    Security Kiosk Nine appears to be under siege by about a dozen Godzillas, 
    over.
    Silence.
    West Tower Six, this is Control. Would you say that again?
    Yes, Control; Security Kiosk Nine is surrounded by several Godzillas.
    Godzillas?
    Several of them, Control, yes.
    Godzillaas in Tokyo, Mothra, Ghidrah, Rodan, and vs. The Smog Monster?
    That would be the one, Control.
    West Tower Six, do me a favor, shoot a rocket at them and see what 
happens.
    Affirmative. Then, several seconds later: Went right through them, 
    Control.
    Could you be a little more specific?
    They appear to be holographic images being broadcast from an unknown 
    source.
    So what youre telling me, McPherson, is that someone has been playing a 
    large-scale practical joke on us?
    It would seem that way, Control, over.
    Ah, well, hell
     
    Annabelle reached into one of her pockets and removed a fully automatic 
    pistol and pointed it at Preston. Whats going on here?
    Preston held up his hands. I can explain all of this, Annabelle.
    She looked at her guards. Leave this room and make sure no one else enters 
    until I call youthat goes for you as well, Simmons.
    Madam.
    A few moments later, she and Preston were alone in the room.
    Start explaining, she said, her voice cracking.
    I didnt want you to find out, not like this.
    Find out what?
    About Roy.
    A single tear slid down her right cheek. Roys dead.
    Preston stared at the gun in silence, then slowly began to rise from the 
    chair, gesturing toward the computer beyond the glass. Well, you see, about 
    that
     
    Beyond the perimeter of the compound, the HIR system ran out of juice.
    The robot army disappeared.
    As did the oversized IA-2112s.
    And the Godzillas that had been giving Security Nine such nervous moments.
    For a minute, there was nothing but smoke, sputtering flames, and floating 
    debris.
    Then out of the darkness a crowd of shadows came running toward a 
    rocket-blasted section of fence.
    Screaming about wreckage
     
    Killaine and Radiant were nearing the section of fence where theyd entered 
    earlier when Singer emerged from the smoke, carrying the portable chamber in 
    his arms as if it were a baby.
    Killaine was so proud of him she could have cried.
    Oh, Singer, whispered Radiant, reaching out to take the chamber from his 
    arms. I dont know how you managed to get through without being shot to 
    pieces, but youll have to teach me sometime.
    Killaine took the chamber from Radiant. We need your hands free in case 
    therere any security devices still functioning properlythough judging from 
    the mess out here I doubt there are.
    The three of them turned and started back toward the main building.
    And thats when the world seemed to come to an end.
     
    Itazura was darting around the grounds of the compound, his StunShooter at 
    the ready in case he encountered any security guards.
    There were several different vehicles parked all over the grounds.
    Of course, most of them were burning right now, having been blasted by 
    panic-fire.
    Two guards came out of the smoke and ran toward him.
    He got both of them with one blast, knocking them unconsciousas they would 
    remain for the next several hours.
    To make sure theyd remain safe, he dragged them into a nearby supply shed.
    Then resumed his search.
    He saw the truckunharmed and unguardedat the same time he caught a quick 
    glance of Radiant, Killaine, and Singer.
    Then the whole world blew up.
     
    Annabelle stared at the computer and the mechanical brain, stunned beyond 
    both words and action for the first time in her life
    Roy.
    Her son was in there.
    Alive.
    Alive!
    Annabelle? said Preston very, very softly.
    what.?
    I did it for us. I wanted us to be a family again.
    we were never a family, Sam
    Then I did it because I wanted us to finally be one.
    Slowly, Annabelle turned back to look at him.
    He seemed so pathetic to her right now, so desperate and helpless and so 
    completely without any grasp of reality.
    I dont love you, Sam. I never did.
    I know, I know, buthe pointed toward the computerdont you think that, 
    maybe, you could learn to?
    Youre dying, Sam.
    But we have Zac now! Dont you see? If he can design the I-Bots to be so 
    humanlike, then why cant he build bodies for Roy and me, as well? Bodies 
    just like the I-Bots, so human, able to feel, to touch, to give and receive 
    affection.
    When Annabelle didnt say anything, Preston came a step closer to her, then 
    slowly began to get on his knees. I dont want to die, Annabelle, not like 
    thisso weak, so drained, wearing diapers under my suit because I never know 
    when
    get up, Sam
    youre the only woman Ive ever loved, Annabelle, and I only did what I 
    did with Roy because I saw how much it hurt you, how his death nearly 
    destroyed you
    Im warning you, Sam, get up
    Preston grabbed Annabelles other, empty hand and brought it to his lips. 
    Oh, please, please Annabelle, lets do it. Even if you dontdont care for 
    me, at least give me a second chance at life for what I tried to do for 
Roy
    It was the tried that did it, that tipped off Annabelle.
    She looked at the console, then the computer, then Preston.
    You bastard, she whispered. You neveryou never intended to tell me, did 
    you?
    I had no choice, Annabelle, things went wrong and he would have been brain 
    damaged and I knew you wouldnt want him, not like that, so
    how fucking dare you decide for me that I wouldnt want my son back 
    because hed be brain damaged! How dare you keep this from me all these 
    years! Do you have any idea thethe hurt Ive felt every day and night for 
    the last five years? And all this time you had him here, had him trapped in 
    your system like a prisoner and
    She caught it from the corner of her eye.
    A screen-prompt.
     
    <DATA COMPARISON TIME REMAINING: 00:27:42>
     
    Data comparison? she said aloud, more to herself than anyone.
    It took a moment for the full impact to hit her.
    You bastard! she screamed, slamming the pistol against the side of 
    Prestons skull and knocking him to the floor. Something went wrong? You 
    screwed up, didnt you? You screwed up and didnt want anyone to know about 
    it, so now youre running a Download and Dump. Youreyoure killing him 
    again.
    Preston started to get to his feet.
    Annabelle stepped over, slammed a solid Tai kick into the other side of his 
    head, then stood over him, one leg on either side of his chest.
    Youre taking him away from me a second timebefore I ever knew I still had 
    him.
    Annabelle, please, theres still time, if we can get Zac
    She gripped the automatic with both hands and took careful aim.
    Annabelle! screamed Preston. Annabelle, I did it because I love you, 
    PLEASE
    There were twelve shots in the clip and one in the chamber.
    Annabelle emptied all thirteen of them into Prestons head and chest.
    She was still squeezing the trigger over and over when Simmons came into the 
    room and took the pistol from her hands, whispering, Im here for you, 
    madam, Im right here, now, please, we must
    And thats when part of the wall in the computer room exploded.
     
    The blast that hit the compound yard was like nothing any of the I-Bots had 
    ever experienced before.
    As Itazura felt himself lifted from the ground and thrown backward like a 
    rag doll, he thought: Aint this a bitch? The Wrath of God and I dont even 
    believe in God.
    When the smoke cleared away all Itazura could see were flames and large 
    chunks of twisted metal and other debris raining down.
    Killaine, Radiant, and Singer were nowhere to be seen.
    Please be all right, he thought.
    He pulled himself slowly to his feet, checked to make sure he still had all 
    his body parts, and staggered forward just as he saw the figure walking 
    toward him.
    Its a motherfucker, isnt it? yelled the figure. I never thought Id get 
    to use it.
    what was it? Itazura managed to get out.
    A Kolikov-Plotnik A-72 military field-issue cannon-launched ShellBlaster, 
    said Gash, unsheathing his sword. They said it was designed to take out 
    half a city block.
    They were right, replied Itazura, unsheathing his own sword. Wheres the 
    rest of your little Wuss-army?
    Hanging back, Little Mary Sunshine. I told em I wanted first crack at 
    this.
    Both of them bowed, then assumed the initial attack position.
    How did you know I was here? asked Itazura, circling Gash clockwise.
    I didnt, replied Gash, countering the move. I came here to get Preston, 
    but then I spotted you through the target lens right before I fired. We got 
    business to finish, you and me. My Stompers will follow when I give the 
    signal.
    Right, said Itazura, then jumped to the side and swung his blade up at an 
    arc, connecting solidly with Gashs sword.
    Gash countered with a downward-press that brought the tips of both their 
    swords to the ground.
    Itazura faked left, went right, and pulled his blade out, snapped it up over 
    his head, and brought it down toward Gash, who scrambled right, twirled his 
    sword in the air, and held it parallel to his chest just as Itazuras blade 
    connected.
    The two opponents looked at each other for a moment.
    Im going to kill you, Mary, said Gash.
    Whos stopping you from trying? asked Itazura.
    And they decided to get serious.
     
    Killaine, Radiant, and Singer had just reached the door when the blast 
    behind them brought down a quarter of PTSIs buildings.
    They barely had time to hit the floor before a large, fiery, twisted section 
    of something that might once have been a truck sailed over their heads and 
    slammed into the side of the main building.
    Killaine was the first on her feet, checking the portable chamber to make 
    sure it hadnt been damaged, then reaching down and helping Radiant to her 
    feet.
    Singer didnt move.
    Singer? said Killaine. Then: Singer! She knelt by his side and started 
    to touch him, but Radiant grabbed her hand and said, Dont.
    But hes damaged.
    I know. Heare there any guards around?
    No, said Killaine. I mean, there are sections of the tower and some stray 
    weapons some of them must have dropped when they were-oh, no.
    He fell on an electron gun and accidentally discharged it, Killaine. The 
    charge was low, but itits enough.
    Oh, no, Singer
    He turned his head slightly then managed to work one of his arms behind his 
    back and pull the gun out, tossing it away.
    Killaine started to touch him again.
    No, he signed. The charge is stillstill potent enough to jump to another 
    host.
    We cant leave you here, Singer, said Killaine. I know that therethere 
    has to be something Zac cancan do for
    Singers hands moved more slowly than before, jerking and twitching so that 
    some of the words he signed were indecipherable: You dont have have all 
    that much left only twen-twen moots.
    Come on, Killaine, snapped Radiant.
    She couldnt take her eyes from Singers face. Youll beyoull be all 
    right, you hear me, Singer? YOU HEAR ME?
    Go on. IllIll wait here if you dont mind.
    Killaine! Radiant shouted. Weve got about fourteen minutes!
    Killaine shook her head and bit her lower lip, turning away so neither 
    Radiant nor Singer would see the tears forming in her eyes.
    She grabbed the portable chamber and leaped to her feet.
    Come on, she said coldly, the warrior once again.
     
    What the hell was that? Zac shouted, hanging on to Stonewall as the 
    violent ripples of the explosion outside traveled along the floor.
    I have no idea, said Psy-4.
    Someones launched a military field-issue ShellBlaster, said Stonewall. 
    When Zac and Psy-4 looked at him, Stonewall shrugged. I mean, Ive only 
    read about them, but thats my best guess.
    Zacfar less dizzy now but in serious pain because the anesthetic was 
    rapidly wearing offchecked his watch again and said. We cant wait any 
    longer.
    Psy-4s eyes grew wide. But they should
    I know, snapped Zac. Theyll be here in a minute, but weve lost too much 
    time as it is. He lifted the palmtop and said, Give me the last three 
    numbers in the sequence.
    Psy-4 stared at him.
    Psy-4, said Zac, the warning in his voice clear.
    Psy-4 gave him the numbers.
    Zac entered them then pressed the INITIATE key.
    All right, he said to Stonewall. Weve hit Piss on Subtlety Time. You 
    got something on you thatll blow away part of this wall?
    Stonewall reached into his pocket and removed a small grenade. Well have 
    to take cover at the other end of the hall.
    Fine, said Zac, already on the move. Just make damn sure it doesnt land 
    too close to the wall; we dont want to damage the mainframe.
    Yes, sir.
    Stonewall?
    Yes, sir?
    Call me sir one more time and Im going to get irritable.
    The three of them took cover.
    Stonewall activated the grenade, then tossed it.
    It landed six feet from the wall.
    Perfect, he said.
    Then came the explosion.
     
    The Catherine Wheel program was designed with one simple task in mind: To 
    have a computer so intensely focus all its energies on following one 
    directive that anything not directly associated with that directive was 
    basically ignored.
    On the night that Zac and the I-Bots had broken into PTSI, the now-late Sam 
    Preston had initiated the Catherine Wheel program to concentrate solely on 
    changing every security code in the compound every ninety seconds.
    Everything else, the computer ignored.
    The CWP was, in essence, a carefully controlled electronic 
    obsessive-compulsive disorder.
    Which is why no one dared run it for more than five minutes; after that, the 
    disorder would be free to spread throughout every mainframe hooked into the 
    system.
    Neither Zac nor Preston were ever able to figure out why the CWP could not 
    be controlled for more than fifteen minutes.
    Not that it mattered at the moment.
    The second Zac Robillard hit the INITIATE key, every computer in PTSIs 
    mainframe focused all its energies on answering the single question that 
    Psy-4 had programmed: If you were to count every ape, gibbon, gorilla, and 
    similar primate on Earth, then multiply that number by the exact, precise 
    amount of individual hairs on all of these animals, when would the train 
    traveling from Philadelphia at seventy-five miles per hour arrive in Paris 
    after cataloging every drop of water in the ocean?
    Psy-4 had thought it quite clever, actually.
    Because even if Prestons system were to realize it was obsessing on a trick 
    question, it would be too late to shut down the CWP.
    Sometimes, Psy-4 could be very mischievous.
    But he usually kept it to himself.
     
    Both Annabelle and Simmons were startled by the blast. Simmons grabbed 
    Annabelle and threw her to the floor, shielding her body with his own.
    When it became apparent that the blast was confined to the computer room, 
    Simmons rose, then helped Annabelle to her feet.
    They watched in shaken silence as, behind the glass, Zac Robillard entered 
    the computer room along with two of the I-Bots.
    A few moments later, two more I-Bots joined them.
    Annabelle broke away from Simmons and looked for a door that would lead into 
    the computer room, but there was none.
    Preston had made sure that Roy was totally isolated from any outside 
    interference.
    Simmons, she snapped. Break the glass!
    He grabbed a heavy piece of equipment from the far wall of the room and 
    heaved it into the window.
    Aside from the thunderous noise of the console top striking the unbreakable 
    glass, there was nothing.
    Annabelle saw that Robillard and the I-Bots had been startled by the noise 
    and were now looking up at her.
    Breathing heavily, Simmons leaned against the remains of the console and 
    said, It appears to be unbreakable, madam.
    Annabelle glared at Zac, scanned the console, saw the button marked 
    INTERCOM, and pressed it as she spoke into one of the microphones. Zac!
    Hello again, Annabelle.
    What are you doing?
    Whats it to you?
    She couldnt believe the arrogance in his voice.
    I never doubted youd solve the equation.
    Robillard smiled at her. Im assuming that was your idea of a joke? He 
    signaled the I-Bots to get to work.
    One of them set a portable chamber on the floor by the computer.
    Another removed a series of electrodes and connector cables from a pouch 
    around their waist.
    The other two were busy laying out a row of computer-repair tools.
    Zac, said Annabelle. Zac, listen, thatthe brain in the computer
    Were taking it, Annabelle. The glass in front of you is shatterproof, and 
    if you want to waste time calling up the blueprints for this building, 
    youll discover that it would take you at least four minutes to move through 
    the corridors in order to get to us. Ive had it with you.
    He turned toward the I-Bots; all of them checked the time.
    Zac! This time Annabelle shouted into the microphone.
    He ignored her.
    Zac, listen to me, she said.
    Then saw her own guards appear at the blasted-away section of wall, electron 
    guns and automatic weapons at the ready.
    NO! she shouted.
    The guards looked up at her.
    Thats right, she said. I dont want them harmed or detained, 
understand?
    The guards, looking puzzled, nodded up toward her, then backed off.
    Robillard looked genuinely surprised. What are you trying to pull, 
    Annabelle?
    Nothing, she said. Just, please listen to me, all right? The brain inside 
    Prestons computer, itsits been imprinted with my sons consciousness. 
    She hated the way her voice cracked on the last few words, the way she could 
    feel the tears in her eyes, hated how weak and vulnerable she must look to 
    Robillard right now, but none of it mattered.
    Not anymore.
    His name was Roy. Preston and I had a brief affair when the two of you 
    worked for me. Roy was the result of our affair. She leaned forward and 
    clutched the microphone with both hands. Zac, pleaseplease save him.
    Thats the idea, he said flatly.
    Can you really do it?
    Yes, he replied.
    Annabelle released a long, staggered breath.
    Robillard looked at his watch, then at the computer. In three minutes and 
    fifty seconds, Annabelle, the entire mainframe of PTSI is going to suffer 
    the equivalent of a nervous breakdown. We dont have time to deal with your 
    goons. Call away all your guards and private security soldiers.
    Yes.
    Pass the word along that we are notrepeat notto be fired upon or 
stopped.
    Yes.
    The brain was now being physically detached from the computer and 
    transferred to the portable chamber.
    You can really save him, Zac?
    Yes, Annabelle. And that is precisely what Im going to do.
    She smiled at him. Thank you.
    Robillard nodded, then said: This isnt over, you know?
    I know.
    Ill never come back to WorldTech.
    I understand.
    Fine.
    Just as long as you realize, Zac, that Ill never stop hunting you.
    I figured as much.
    Ill catch you eventually.
    Try it.
    Annabelle wiped her eyes. But for now, Ill let you go safely, because you 
    have my son. Take good care of him, Zac.
    I will.
    Because Ill have him back one dayand the two of us will enjoy looking at 
    your stuffed fucking head hanging on the wall of our living room.
    Robillard laughed.
    Annabelle sneered at him.
    Then the skylight shattered, glass raining down, a cable dropped into the 
    computer room and a figure came sliding down, spraying automatic gunfire in 
    all directions, taking out the guards in the hall and destroying a section 
    of the computer.
    Janus swung around and threw himself from the cable, landed solidly on both 
    feet, pulled a grenade from his pocket, and shoved the business end of the 
    gun against Zacs temple.
    You double-crossed me, Annabelle, he shouted.
    Danny? said Killaine, staring at him in shock.
    Hello, Janus, said Annabelle.
    Janus kicked out with his left leg, hooked his foot into the handle of the 
    portable chamber, and pulled it over. Ive got half a mind to kill your 
    dear old Zachary and blow the rest of this place to hell, he shouted.
    None of the I-Bots dared to make a move toward him while he controlled that 
    chamber.
    I warned you, Annabellenever screw me. I can be one nasty son-of-a-bitch 
    when I choose to.
    So I see.
    Annabelle hoped the panic she felt wasnt evident in her voice.
    Janus slowly turned to face the I-Bots, using Zac as a shield and moving the 
    portable chamber with his foot.
    Okay, you pieces of mechanical shit, he said. Move! Into the hallNOW!
    He snapped his head toward Killaine, who felt a pain in her center that 
    defied any shed ever known before.
    Youreyoure Janus? she croaked.
    What? You develop an affection for the hump and braces?
    Then he did something that no one else but Killaine saw.
    He gave a quick grin and winked at her.
     
    Itazura and Gash moved toward a blasted section of gate, their swords 
    colliding so fast and furiously that the blades could barely be seen.
    Finally, Itazura pulled back, bent his legs, and jumped into the air, 
    executing a double somersault over Gashs head and snap-kicking his opponent 
    in the small of the back before landing behind him.
    Gash screamed.
    He fell one way.
    His sword went another.
    Itazura stood over Gash, sliding his own sword back into its sheath. Im 
    sorry I had to do that, he said. But Im kind of pressed for time. He 
    knelt beside Gash. Dont worry about that numbness youre feeling right 
    now. I havent crippled you or anything like that. Just dont move from this 
    spot, all right? Ill make sure to send an ambulance for you.
    no Gash croaked.
    He reached out for his sword.
    Itazura laughed. Youre in no condition to continue the fight.
    I dont wish to fight with you any longer
    Thenwhat?
    Gash stared directly into Itazuras eyes. Can we call this a matter of 
    honor?
    Then Itazura understood.
    Im sorry, Gash. I cant do that.
    yes, you can
    No, I really cant. Its a programming conflict that cant be overridden.
    Gash turned pale. programming conflict?
    Bites, doesnt it? said Itazura. Youve been playing whup-ass with a 
    robot all along and never knew it.
    He rose, then he turned and walked away as Gash screamed: A FUCKIN ROBOT! 
    YOURE A FUCKIN ROBOT? COME BACK HERE! ILL PULL YOUR HEAD OFF WITH MY 
    HANDS! WRECKAGE! WRECKAGE! I WANT MY WRECK-AAAAAAAAAAAGE!
    Too bad, shouted Itazura over his shoulder. But we all need a nemesis to 
    keep our lives interesting, dont we?
    He looked beyond the gates and saw no sign of the crowding shadows.
    Maybe the Stompers couldnt stand to see their leader fall to a Tin Man.
     
    In the hallway, Janus looked around, made sure all the guards were dead, 
    then pushed Zac away. All right, theres a chopper by the east gate and a 
    truck just outside whats left of the west end of the compound. Youve got a 
    better chance of getting out of here if you split up and take different 
    types of vehicles.
    They all stared at him.
    Killaine approached him cautiously. Why are you doing this?
    She double-crossed me.
    Killaine shook her head. I dont believe you.
    I dont care right now, yelled Janus, then let fly with a burst of gunfire 
    into the ceiling. That was for the benefit of any approaching guards.
    Come with us, said Killaine.
    Oh, rightlike thats going to save me now.
    Zac was the next to speak. You dont have to help us, Janus.
    Well, duh. Thanks for clearing that up.
    Killaine grabbed his arm and turned him to face her. Why are you doing 
    this?
    Tell your friends to start getting the hell out of here and Ill tell 
    youonly you.
    Killaine cast a pleading look at the others. Please?
    They began to scatter.
    Killaine shouted, Radiantremember Singer!
    Then faced Janus again. Were alone and theres not a lot of time. Why did 
    you?
    I only lied to you about my name and the scoliosis, said Janus. 
    Everything else I told you was the truth. I was a carny as a kid, I did 
    time at the Ohio Pen for running a flat store, I love kids and wish to hell 
    I could protect them all from chronosand Im crazy about you. He pulled 
    her close and kissed her on the lips.
    Killaine didnt fight it.
    She didnt want to.
    Janus pulled back and began leading her toward the exit where the others 
    were waiting for her. Listen to me, Killaine. I never, ever, not once in my 
    whole miserable life gave a thought to the state of my soul because I never 
    believed I had oneuntil I met you. Ive done things for money that would 
    make you sick
    I dont care, Janus, I dont care, I love you and
    and I love you, too, for what its worth, but I refuse to poison you with 
    whats inside medont look at me like that, no ones being noble here, Im 
    just stating a fact. Violence is not just something I do, its what I am. I 
    could try to rein it in, and who knows, I might be able to for a while. But 
    it always rises to the surface, Killaine. Always. And its black and it 
    stinks and it infects everyone and everything around me and I wont do that 
    to you! I never understood what genuine decency was before I met you, and I 
    almost wish I still didnt understandbut Ill never regret having known 
    you. Never. He pushed her outside.
    Janus, said Killaine. You can come with us, we can use someone with 
your
    I would grow old, Killaine. I would get sick. And I would die. And 
    somewhere along the line I would start resenting you. I love you more than 
    anything Ive ever had or ever will have in my life. He looked behind him. 
    Guards are coming. He slammed a fresh clip into his weapon and, not 
    looking back at Killaine, said, I wish we could have gone on the carousel 
    together, then opened fire and ran toward the new wave of guards, hosing 
    the area and tossing the grenade, then somebody screamed and the entire 
    hallway went up in fire, smoke, and debris.
     
    Zac, Radiant, and Psy-4 took the chopper.
    Roy was with them, safely functioning in his new, temporary home.
    Killaine, Stonewall, Itazura, and Singer took the truck, a military-style 
    transport with a green canvas tarpaulin tenting its bed.
    Stonewall drove, and Itazura rode up front with him.
    As they sped through the night, Killaine held Singers head in her lap, 
    watching as the red glow of his eyes slowly faded.
    The equivalent of a human stroke, Zac had said.
    Like the robot in the Scrapper Camp, there was nothing anyone could do for 
    Singer.
    And so Killaine held him in his last minutes of life and wept for not having 
    known him better, or longer, or, ultimately, at all.
    Maybe she wept for herself, as well.
    For all the loss and guilt and pain shed had to absorb over the last few 
    days.
    She was pulled out of herself by the touch of Singers hand against hers.
    She wiped her eyes, leaned down, and whispered, What is it? What do you 
    need?
    Not here, he signed.
    What do you?
    Not in here. Not in darkness and hiding.
    Killaine couldnt find her voice.
    Understars. I wantstarsunder.
    She nodded her head, understanding.
    Stop! she screamed. Stop the truck!
    Stonewall braked and drove the truck to the side of the road.
    Itazura jumped out, ran to the back, and threw aside the tarpaulin. What is 
    it?
    But Killaine was already climbing out and down, cradling Singer in her arms.
    He doesnt want to die in there. He wants to die under the stars.
    Itazura shook his head. Killaine, look, I know how you must feel, but
    Her glare silenced him.
    Itazura started to say something else, but then Stonewall placed a massive 
    hand on his shoulder.
    Let her go, Itzy. This is something she has to do alone.
    Killaine walked across a moonlit field and began heading up a small hill.
    She reached the top, and she saw the glory of the night, the acceptance of 
    the stars above, and finally understood what Radiant meant when she spoke of 
    the silent poetry of the world.
    I wish wed had more time together, she whispered to Singer.
    He managed to squeeze her hand.
    Just a little.
    Can you ever forgive me for the way I treated you all this time?
    He tapped her arm.
    She looked down at him.
    Nothing to forgive, he signed, the light in his eyes dimming more.
    Killaine had to fight with everything she had in order not to break down. 
    She didnt want Singer to see her grief, not at the end.
    Is thereis there anything I can do for you? she whispered.
    Singer held up two fingers: Two things.
    Name them.
    He pointed toward the sky, then made a circling gesture with his finger.
    Killaine puzzled over the gesture.
    Singer made the circling gesture again, only faster.
    Flying? whispered Killaine.
    Singer managed a nod.
    I dont understand what
    He pointed to the sky again, then managed to sign two words: Use me.
    And Killaine understood.
    Roy. Singer wanted his body to be used for Roy.
    I promise you, my friend. I promise.
    Then Singer placed two fingers against the area where his mouth would have 
    been if hed had one and reached up and placed the same two fingers against 
    Killaines lips.
    She understood his wish at once.
    Tell me the rest of the story.
    Killaine looked up at the stars. Well, the girl with no name prepared a 
    magnificent feast for her relatives andand everyone else in the village. 
    The feast lasted for days, and even those who had arrived feeling angry or 
    sad or resentful of a neighbor left with full bellies and bags of extra food 
    and more happiness and hope than theyd known in years. When it was done, 
    when the girl with no name had finished cleaning up and storing the 
    leftovers, one of her aunts took her aside and said, Where will you go 
    now? I dont understand, said the girl. Well, replied her aunt, now 
    that you have given everyone enough food to last throughout the winterand a 
    fine feast it was, my dearnow that you have done so much for us and the 
    village, you need not stay here any longer, not with all the money youve 
    inherited. Then the girl laughed. What is so funny? asked her aunt. May 
    I have a name now? Why not choose it yourself? Because I think I may 
    have done a foolish thing, but I dont care. What foolish thing is that? 
    I have no money left, replied the girl. I spent all I had on the feast.
    Then the girl began to cry, so embarrassed was she by her foolish behavior, 
    but her aunt took the girl into her arms and whispered, You have not done a 
    foolish thing, my dear. You have given of yourself in a way that few of us 
    ever have. And becauseKillaines voice broke and the tears began 
    streaming down her facebecause of what you have done, and for all that 
    youve given us, there is only one name worthy of you. From this day 
    forward, my dear, your name shall be a reflection of your soul. From this 
    day forward, you shall be called Grace.
    Killaine looked down at Singer as the last of the light faded from his eyes.
    She looked up at the stars and the night, wishing that she knew a prayer.
    Then she slowly turned and made her way back down to the truck where 
    Stonewall and Itazura waited in respectful silence.
    Is he gone? asked Stonewall.
    Yes, whispered Killaine, lowering her face and kissing Singer where his 
    lips would have been.
    He was a good friend, said Itazura, his own voice breaking. Im sorry he 
    died.
    Killaine shook her head, her tears spattering gently on the shiny metal of 
    Singers stilled face. He gave up his life, she said. And he never even 
    knew his real name.
    He was a robot named Singer, whispered Stonewall.
    No. He was a lamb. His name was Grace. Never forget that.



  AFTER ALL



  I have some rights of memory in this kingdom
  Shakespeare, HAMLET



 
ONE MONTH LATER.


Time was, he knew happiness, hope, and acceptance.
But now, even though he had all those things and more again, Roy thought hed 
settle at the moment for just being able to get his new hands to do what he 
wanted them to.
Darnit, he said aloud, still not used to the sound of his new voice or the 
feel of his recently installed voice box.
Such language, said Itazura.
I sorry, replied Roy.
We gotta work on your sense of humor, kiddo.
 
Annabelle Donohoe stood at her office window, gently fondling the locket.
She was not even aware that Simmons had entered the room and stood staring at 
her.
Madam?
She blinked, then looked at him. What is it, Simmons?
He shrugged. I wasconcerned. Youve not been out of your office all day.
She smiled, staring out at the night.
Time was, shed have been consumed by anger and her desire for revenge.
But now
Its odd, Simmons.
Whats that, madam?
Now it was Annabelles turn to shrug. I should be three times as driven to 
locate Robillard and the I-Bots as I was before, but, somehow
Well locate them again, madam. We always do.
She shook her head. I know. But lets not be too intense about it for the time 
being.
May I inquire why, madamif its not overstepping my bounds?
You may, and it isnt. She turned away from the window with a wide, genuine 
smile on her face and in her heart. Hes alive, Simmons. My son is alive and 
out there, in the world. And even though I cant see him, cant touch him, cant 
hold himI feel him near me. Does that make sense?
Simmons remained silent.
Annabelle turned back to the window. I want to wait a while before going after 
Robillard again. I want my son to have some time to enjoy the new world Zac has 
given to him.
Her hand came away from the locket.
But just a little more time. She grinned her typical grin. A mothers 
patience can only be stretched so far.
 
Outside their new temporary headquarters in an ugly white house on Oceola Avenue 
in Nashville, Tennessee, Zac Robillard was making a final check on the contents 
of the new truck.
Everybody comfy? he called into the trailer.
The Scrappers whod been of such help to them during the siege at PTSI all 
nodded their agreement.
Stonewall and Radiant brought out the last of the documents that Zac had 
requested.
Thought we could use a little road food, said Radiant, loading three bulging 
picnic baskets into the cab. I cant believe were going to Washington.
Testifying before Congress, said Zac, still having a hard time believing he 
was going to do it.
One week ago legislation had been introduced to appropriate funds for the 
creation of training centers for all the so-called Scrappers in the country. 
The idea was that the outmoded, homeless robots would be rounded up andinstead 
of destroyed and recycledtrained to perform public work tasks; public 
sanitation, security, crossing guards, and other occupations that were becoming 
increasingly difficult to fill because of the low pay.
Zac had spoken with a congressional representative last week and suggested 
naming the legislation Singers Law.
He was scheduled to testify before Congress in two days, and Washington was 
abuzz with anticipation of hearing from the reclusive grandson of Benjamin 
Robillard.
Zac figured it wouldnt hurt to be accompanied by Stonewall, Radiant, and the 
bakers dozen of robots who now waited in the back of truck.
It was the least any of them could do to honor their fallen friends memory.
Well, said Zac, rubbing his still-hurting shoulder. Methinks its time we hit 
the road. Everyone say their good-byes?
To everyone but Psy-4, said Radiant. I think hes still hiding from Roy.
Zac grinned. Yeah, wellhe did tell Roy hed be his new daddy. Then Zac and 
Radiant laughed at the same memoryof Roy, arms outstretched, stumbling around 
in his new body after Psy-4 and calling out, Wait for me, Daddy, wait for me!
All set, replied Stonewall.
I think Singer would be pleased, said Radiant.
Zac nodded. Well, lets just make damn sure the law gets passed.
A few minutes later, they were on their way.
 
Killaine sat alone in the living room, looking at the pillow that Stonewall had 
made for her. It was covered with happy little puppy dogs.
She liked it very much.
Itazura came into the room and saw her sitting there alone.
He joined her on the sofa, putting his arm around her shoulder. Howre you 
feeling?
She shrugged. Sometimes better, sometimes not.
Have you, uhhave you talked to Roy yet?
Killaine shook her head. II dont know if I can. Even with the new voice 
circuitry and faceplate, I still look at him and think hes Singer.
Pardon me for saying so, Killaine, but I dont think Singer would want you to 
act like this.
I know. She sighed and looked out the window. Do you think he made it out 
alive?
Itazura blinked. Okay, you switched gears on me. Whore we talking about?
Janus.
Oh.
Killaine looked at him. Do you think
Its hard to say, replied Itazura. Hes a damned clever guy. He very well 
might have gotten away. The news reports have never mentioned anyone matching 
his description as a casualty of the disaster.
I hope it doesnt make me sound like a Judas, whispered Killaine, but I hope 
he got away.
Itazura leaned over and kissed her cheek. For your sake, I hope so, too.
Whats this? asked Killaine, reaching down to take a small paperback book from 
Itazuras hand.
Huh? Oh, some damned book Psy-4 gave me: The Theory of Mechanical Race Memory. 
It has to do with an argument we had a while ago.
Oh.
Hello.
They both looked up, startled, to see Roy standing a few feet away, drumming his 
fingers nervously against the sides of his legs. I got lonely.
Cant have that, said Itazura, rising to his feet. Hello, Roy. I must be 
going. Ive got a pressing appointment with some plumbing pipes in the 
basement.
Itzy, said Killaine.
What? Did you know theres a fungus down there? Its purple. It appears to be 
breathing. I think its developing a rudimentary language. I have decided to 
call it Victoria.
Roy made a metallic laughing noise. Youre funny.
Itazura bowed. Well, its good to know that at least one person in this 
household has some taste when it comes to He froze, eyes wide, mouth hanging 
open.
Itzy? said Killaine. Itzy, what is it?
He turned toward Killaine and whispered, You havent talked to him about?
No.
Has anyone else told Roy about
Not that I know of. Why?
Look
Whats wrong? asked Roy.
And as he spoke, his hands signed the same question.
How did you learn to do that? asked Killaine, rising slowly to her feet and 
walking toward him.
Learn to do what?
Learn to do what? asked his hands.
Sign, whispered Killaine.
I dunno.
I dunno.
Itzy, said Killaine, not taking her gaze from Roys face. Whats going on 
here? Is this your idea of a joke?
I swear, Sis, I swear I had nothing to do with this.
Roy, said Killaine. Can youcan you say something to me without speaking?
Huh?
Huh?
Talk to me with your hands. Dont say anything out loud, okay?
Okay.
Killaine and Itazura looked at each other in astonishment.
Roy, said Killaine, slowly, very calmly, Is there anything you want to know 
about, wellabout anything?
Yeah.
And what might that be?
Who is Singer?
Again, Killaine and Itazura exchanged astonished looks.
So we have no race memory, huh, Itzy? asked Killaine.
Itazura was speechless.
Roy tapped Killaines arm. Do you know Singer?
Yes, Roy, II knew him. He was my friend.
Could you tell me about him?
Killaine nodded her head, holding back any further tears as she at last touched 
the newest member of the family, putting her arm around his shoulder and leading 
him toward the kitchen where she intended to share some milk and cookies with 
him.
Was he nice? signed Roy.
He was wonderful, whispered Killaine.
Tell me bout him, please?
Okay, shhh, listen: Time was, robots like Singer were a wonder to humankind, 
the culmination of its dreams of merging the mechanical with the humanistic in 
order to form the basis for a more enlightened and advanced society.
Huh?
Killaine smiled at him. They were way cool.
And soon, she was able to look at him as Roy.
Only Roy.
Her absent friend would have wanted it that way.
 
Later that night, in what many would call the wee hours, a moth fluttered near 
the bright front porch light of the I-Bots current home.
It neared the hot bulb, circled, hovered dangerously close.
Then it sensed something about the house, maybe emanating from somewhere inside.
It moved closer to the bulb and the fruition of its life.
Thenand no one was there to guess whyat the moment when it should have slammed 
its body against the light and screamed its insect scream as wings burst into 
flame, it veered to the side, circled the light one last time, and flew off into 
the darkness.
Choosing to live a little while longer.
Choosing life, if only for one more day.
And knowing that, after all, there was another day to choose.



ACKNOWLEDGMENTS



The authors would like to acknowledge some of the people who helped us along the 
way as we wrote this book. First, thanks to Denise Little, for her enthusiasm 
and some much needed shots in the ego. Next, thanks go to Larry Segriff, for 
continuously putting Gary in his place. Thanks to Ed Gorman, for being a fine 
teacher by example. And last but hardly least, thank to Isaac Asimov, for the 
legacy he left us, and in the sincere hope that this minor footnote is worthy of 
his memory.


