[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
he had transformed himself. His face was a melted-tar smear, with durium
highlights. She saw the wires threaded through his limbs.
"Jessamyn, there are things you have to know about the treatment."
His voice was still the same, although she could see the silver ball in his
throat where it was generated.
"Zarathustra closed down the project for good reasons, by his lights. There
are... side-effects. Psychological, I think."
A cold hand caressed Jessamyn's metal-sheathed spine.
"You'll have to work at it, work at remaining human inside... I'm not sure
that I've managed it all that well, myself. Sometimes, I just sit and stare,
forgetting... for weeks, Jessamyn, for weeks. I can do almost anything with
this improved body, but my mind has got blasé about it. When you're
superhuman, so little seems worth the bother. You must resist that. You
must..."
"Doc?" She was almost pleading with him. Don't die, don't die!
The servos in his cheeks made a smile, although there was no flesh to pull.
His teeth grinned perpetually.
"You're crying. That's good."
Jessamyn put a hand to her face. There was moisture around her optic.
"Biofluid."
"No, I gave you back some tearducts when I inserted the new model. I had some
to spare."
The town hall collapsed, sending a cloud of ash and sparks across the square.
0002-0002.
Rodriguez watched from the jailhouse. Jessamyn was talking to the tall thing.
Page 74
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
He hadn't been able to raise Manolo for minutes. It was down to him. The
house-to-house had been called off. He didn't think he had any soldiers left,
but himself.
He pulled on his gauntlets, and picked up his helmet. It locked into place.
He picked up his M-29, and silently slipped a new clip into the magazine.
0002-0002.
His left arm hadn't moved since he walked out of the Silver Shuriken. He
detached it, and dropped it in the street.
"Let this be a lesson to you, Jesse Frankenstein's-Daughter. You are not
invincible."
He didn't know how long he could live like this. His skullplates were leaking
biofluid. That meant his greymass would be affected.
There was always the Donovan Treatment, but he didn't think much of the idea
of being a disembodied brain in a jar.
"Jessamyn, you have things to do. You'll know, when the time comes, what they
are."
He looked up at the half-moon.
"I don't understand myself, but I've been dreaming again. We don't dream, you
know. Us improved humans. We use up all that brain capacity that's left dark
in normals, and there isn't any room for dreaming. But I've dreamed since you
came here, since I began work on you. I've dreamed of the moon, and of a plain
of salt. I don't know what that means, but it's important."
There was dismay on her face, now. For the first time, she looked her age.
"Doc?"
"Goodbye, Jessamyn."
He had built a suicide switch into his brain. Blinking in a pattern initiated
the shut-down sequence. A vial opened, and a biospunge filled with mercury,
then burst...
0001-0002.
Hooray for our side. Rodriguez must have scragged one of the things!
Jessamyn looked down at the smoking remains. The Doc was gone. She hadn't
understood everything he had tried to tell her. Again, she was all alone, as
she had been after her father's death, and after Spanish Fork. Alone with the
dead. He had called her Jesse Frankenstein's-Daughter.
She was not alone. A soldier came out of the old jailhouse, rifle held
lightly in one hand, barrel pointed down.
"Jessamyn," his voice was amplified by something inside his helmet. "Do you
remember me?"
She laughed. "In that get-up, I wouldn't know you if you were my father."
Page 75
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"I'm sorry. It's Rodriguez. Holm Rodriguez. From Denver."
She did remember him. He was with the Bruyce-Hoare Agency. After she had
killed her father, he had been one of the interrogating officers. And before
that, she had seen him several times. He had raided the downtown warehouse
arena the night she defeated Melanie Squid in the Kumite. As cops go, he had
been okay. She tried to recall his face, but got it mixed up with the actor,
Edward James Olmos. Swarthy, Hispanic, sharp eyes.
"I know you, Rodriguez. You're a Juvie Op. In case you hadn't heard, I turned
eighteen last month. I'm grown-up now."
"I'm not with Bruyce-Hoare any more. I accepted a position in the private
sector. Holderness-Manolo."
"Fancy."
He was edging towards her, slowly.
"Look," she said, stopping him in his tracks. "You gave me a break over
Daddy. I'll return the favour. Just turn around and walk out of here. You
don't have to die."
She wished she could see his face.
"No, really. You can live to an old age, have kids, rent a house on the
beach, get into politics."
The rifle wavered. She knew he wasn't going to bite on it.
"Rodriguez, you don't have to be an asshole. It's not a contractual
obligation."
The gun jumped, but she wasn't in front of it when it went off.
She extended the forefingers of her right hand in a V, and jabbed at
Rodriguez's faceplate. The reinforced darkglass shattered, and she felt warmth
around her hand as her durium-laced fingerbones stabbed through the man's
skull.
Wiping her fingers off on her trousers, she told him, "You didn't have to
die. You didn't have to."
0001-0001.
She knew the procedure. There would be some top cat out there in the desert,
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]