BZRK: Reloaded
Page 58
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“Why?”
Plath didn’t answer, but she heard the distant sound of fingers on
a touchscreen.
“There’s a lot of hits,” Wilkes said. “Game sites.”
“I’ve seen that handle before.” This from Billy the Kid, who had
crept downstairs after being ignored by the others. He was looking over Wilkes’s shoulder. He sounded respectful. “Whoa. Whoa.” Pause, then, and in a deeper register, “Whoa, this dude is good. I mean, way
good. Respect.”
Games and more games. This tiny corner of Vincent’s brain was
a library of games. And with them came feeling. Not pleasure, but not
numbness, either. Michael Ford AKA Vincent had found something
he cared about.
And then, there it was: Bug Man’s nanobots.
They were racing toward Vincent’s biots, their center wheels
down for speed. The exploding head logo that marked all of Bug
Man’s nanobots was seen in flashes.
The sight sent chills through Plath. She froze in place, pushing
the probe ever so gently to the left, to the right, back, center again. She saw the ripped off legs of Vincent’s biot spinning away in the
cerebrospinal fluid.
Worse, far worse, she felt Vincent’s fear.
“Unh!” she said.
“What?” Wilkes. Bored, but hearing the change in her voice. “Get Jin,” Plath said. “Get him now.”
The twitcher station on the Doll Ship was as complete and up-todate as the ones back at the Armstrong Building, and better than the one Bug Man had in Washington.
In addition, there was a portable model to be used as backup. The controls for the portable unit were less sophisticated, and the visual feedback in particular was less efficient.
Charles would get one, Benjamin the other. Charles knew Benjamin would end up with the better equipment—that was the problem in dealing with an irrational, emotional person: they could simply dig in their heels and outlast you.
Making a virtue of necessity, Charles said, “Take the more comfortable equipment, Benjamin.”
Benjamin did not demur.
They did not need Minako to be present in the room with them. In fact, Charles would have preferred she not be, but here again Benjamin had his way.
So Minako had been immobilized in a metal chair with handcuffs.
“Don’t hurt me,” she said in her charmingly accented English.
“We are not sadists,” Charles said, sounding wounded. “This is not some horror movie. We are going to help you.”
“Just let me go. Please. Please, I want to go back home.”
Charles was fitting the equipment to his head. It took two hands, which meant he and Benjamin had to cooperate, though Ling was there to help, and they’d been given the services of the crewman named KimKim.
“Fasten it around the back, KimKim, if you would, please,” Charles said. “Yes, it can go tighter.”
It was extremely uncomfortable, the two of them wearing the helmets—neither could go all the way on, obviously, so contacts were imperfect. The lighter portable model fit better, offsetting some of the advantage Benjamin had.
And why am I thinking in terms of advantage? Charles wondered. This isn’t a competition.
Of course they must look grotesque to both KimKim and the girl. As always, Ling remained silent.
“We are not going to hurt you, Minako; we are helping you,” Charles said. “You have lived your entire life alone, whether you recognized it or not …Yes, now get the first syringe, KimKim. We need to link to the nanobots. This is exciting, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Benjamin said curtly.
“I’m sorry,” Minako cried. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry, please let me go.”
Charles’s bifocal vision—his depth perception—dropped out. This was a common experience. The center eye, the shared eye, could link either to him or to Benjamin. It was always obvious to whom the third eye was linked at any moment, because when it was active it provided depth of field otherwise lacking.
KimKim lifted the syringe from its stainless steel cradle. “I don’t know how to give anyone a shot,” he said nervously. Then added, “Sir.” Then amended, “Sirs.”
“It’s not really a needle,” Charles explained. “There’s no sharp tip, you see. You just need to place it very close to Minako’s eye and squeeze the plunger very carefully.”
“You cannot do this,” said Minako. “Please. Please, please.”
“Young lady, there is nothing to be afraid of,” Charles said, working on his best friendly voice.
“Who’s to stop us?” Benjamin snapped.
“You should understand that we are doing this to make you happy, Minako. Think of it …think of it as if there was a disease in your brain and we are going to cure you. When we are done you will feel happier. You’ll find that you—”
“I see!” Benjamin cried. “I can see through their eyes! I’m seeing through the nanobot eyes! Hah!”
KimKim carefully placed the tip of the needle—it might not be sharp, but it certainly looked like a needle—as close as he could to Minako’s eyelid. She squeezed her eyes shut and yelled, “Someone help me! Help!”
KimKim pulled back. “If you don’t sit still I’m going to poke you!”
“I can see through all their sensors, oh, oh!” Benjamin said. “I see all the other, all my …all the nanobots, we’re all jumbled together, oh!”
Plath didn’t answer, but she heard the distant sound of fingers on
a touchscreen.
“There’s a lot of hits,” Wilkes said. “Game sites.”
“I’ve seen that handle before.” This from Billy the Kid, who had
crept downstairs after being ignored by the others. He was looking over Wilkes’s shoulder. He sounded respectful. “Whoa. Whoa.” Pause, then, and in a deeper register, “Whoa, this dude is good. I mean, way
good. Respect.”
Games and more games. This tiny corner of Vincent’s brain was
a library of games. And with them came feeling. Not pleasure, but not
numbness, either. Michael Ford AKA Vincent had found something
he cared about.
And then, there it was: Bug Man’s nanobots.
They were racing toward Vincent’s biots, their center wheels
down for speed. The exploding head logo that marked all of Bug
Man’s nanobots was seen in flashes.
The sight sent chills through Plath. She froze in place, pushing
the probe ever so gently to the left, to the right, back, center again. She saw the ripped off legs of Vincent’s biot spinning away in the
cerebrospinal fluid.
Worse, far worse, she felt Vincent’s fear.
“Unh!” she said.
“What?” Wilkes. Bored, but hearing the change in her voice. “Get Jin,” Plath said. “Get him now.”
The twitcher station on the Doll Ship was as complete and up-todate as the ones back at the Armstrong Building, and better than the one Bug Man had in Washington.
In addition, there was a portable model to be used as backup. The controls for the portable unit were less sophisticated, and the visual feedback in particular was less efficient.
Charles would get one, Benjamin the other. Charles knew Benjamin would end up with the better equipment—that was the problem in dealing with an irrational, emotional person: they could simply dig in their heels and outlast you.
Making a virtue of necessity, Charles said, “Take the more comfortable equipment, Benjamin.”
Benjamin did not demur.
They did not need Minako to be present in the room with them. In fact, Charles would have preferred she not be, but here again Benjamin had his way.
So Minako had been immobilized in a metal chair with handcuffs.
“Don’t hurt me,” she said in her charmingly accented English.
“We are not sadists,” Charles said, sounding wounded. “This is not some horror movie. We are going to help you.”
“Just let me go. Please. Please, I want to go back home.”
Charles was fitting the equipment to his head. It took two hands, which meant he and Benjamin had to cooperate, though Ling was there to help, and they’d been given the services of the crewman named KimKim.
“Fasten it around the back, KimKim, if you would, please,” Charles said. “Yes, it can go tighter.”
It was extremely uncomfortable, the two of them wearing the helmets—neither could go all the way on, obviously, so contacts were imperfect. The lighter portable model fit better, offsetting some of the advantage Benjamin had.
And why am I thinking in terms of advantage? Charles wondered. This isn’t a competition.
Of course they must look grotesque to both KimKim and the girl. As always, Ling remained silent.
“We are not going to hurt you, Minako; we are helping you,” Charles said. “You have lived your entire life alone, whether you recognized it or not …Yes, now get the first syringe, KimKim. We need to link to the nanobots. This is exciting, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Benjamin said curtly.
“I’m sorry,” Minako cried. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry, please let me go.”
Charles’s bifocal vision—his depth perception—dropped out. This was a common experience. The center eye, the shared eye, could link either to him or to Benjamin. It was always obvious to whom the third eye was linked at any moment, because when it was active it provided depth of field otherwise lacking.
KimKim lifted the syringe from its stainless steel cradle. “I don’t know how to give anyone a shot,” he said nervously. Then added, “Sir.” Then amended, “Sirs.”
“It’s not really a needle,” Charles explained. “There’s no sharp tip, you see. You just need to place it very close to Minako’s eye and squeeze the plunger very carefully.”
“You cannot do this,” said Minako. “Please. Please, please.”
“Young lady, there is nothing to be afraid of,” Charles said, working on his best friendly voice.
“Who’s to stop us?” Benjamin snapped.
“You should understand that we are doing this to make you happy, Minako. Think of it …think of it as if there was a disease in your brain and we are going to cure you. When we are done you will feel happier. You’ll find that you—”
“I see!” Benjamin cried. “I can see through their eyes! I’m seeing through the nanobot eyes! Hah!”
KimKim carefully placed the tip of the needle—it might not be sharp, but it certainly looked like a needle—as close as he could to Minako’s eyelid. She squeezed her eyes shut and yelled, “Someone help me! Help!”
KimKim pulled back. “If you don’t sit still I’m going to poke you!”
“I can see through all their sensors, oh, oh!” Benjamin said. “I see all the other, all my …all the nanobots, we’re all jumbled together, oh!”
