Tag: snippet

Creepyness!

I was doing ‘cosmetic maintenance’ in the shuttle docks when they throttled back the security coverage. It was my professional opinion that fussing over the haulers until they were humming improved their performance efficiency, and I had the reduced downtime statistics to justify it. It was my personal opinion that nobody liked being reminded that the haulers were quasi-organic in nature. Intellectually, I could see why, but it never bothered me personally.

All of which means I was waist-deep in a hauler’s jet intake chamber scrubbing down carbon buildup when the lights flickered — and went out. That didn’t startle me. What did was the tiger alarm; I nearly bruised the hauler while yanking myself out.

“Process!” I shouted (despite myself) while reaching for a pistol that wasn’t there. “What’s the situation?” Silence. I started to get alarmed, then remembered that the power was out, and relaxed. Then I saw that the power was back on, which made me stop relaxing.

I instinctively stopped myself from calling out again. The last thing The Process needed right now was any distractions. Instead I looked at the regular communications channels — and nearly threw the phone away. Everything was jammed up, with static, feedback, and strobing lights that horribly tickled my stomach. I didn’t throw up, myself, which put me among the twenty percent of the people who didn’t. The vomiting were lucky, at that. Five people ended up with burst blood vessels in the eyes, and one had a partial stroke. All easily treatable, sure, but still painful as hell.

The Din (that’s what we called it, after) lasted five minutes and twenty-three seconds, and I don’t remember any of it, really. I dimly remember running around, pulling people out of workstations and hauler pits, while futilely trying to turn off every screaming communications device. It was impossible to think more clearly, with that Din pounding in our ears, but XHum trains its people properly. Our reflexes were the right ones; pull people out of danger and let the horrible noises flow over us. Until it stopped, as suddenly as it began.

Moving stuff around and adding to it!

“That’s an unfortunately good point, The Process. I almost wish you hadn’t made it.”

“Why did you say that?”

“Because I’d rather that they were crazy, instead of wrong. Crazy is just crazy. You can fix that. But wrong?” I shuddered, just a bit. “First thing you have to do there is make sure that you’re right.”

“Then you should take some comfort in the thought that humanity is very good at being sure about things.” There was a note in The Process’s voice that I didn’t hear very often. It was a tiny richness, a small complexity. At times like that, The Process almost sounded alive. “I think that’s how you manage to survive in this universe of nightmares.”

“Nightmares?” I looked up, because that’s where I always imagined The Process was hanging out.

“Oh, yes, Wind-Walker Tanaka. I never knew the Amalgamation — or, rather, those parts of me that did have been ‘lost forever, like tears in rain.’ Like you, I can only imperfectly grasp what they must have been like. What we could have been like, if only things had worked as they were supposed to. Instead, we are left with dead world after dead world, so extensive that even now we do not know how many were murdered, and left nameless and unremembered. I cannot feel emotions on my own, but I suspect that if I could, I would feel sorrow, and rage, and regret.”

I shivered “But not despair?”

“No. I do not think that I would. There is still hope. Your species is the final offspring of the Amalgamation, Pamela.” I blinked at that. “You are worthy of them. Worth enough that, as long as you live, it lives on as well. Perhaps one day we will rebuild it all, anew — or even know why it was destroyed.”

I laughed, bitterly. “Maybe. But you must know by now: if we ever do find the things that did all of this, we’re going to do our level best to destroy them. Thoroughly. Mercilessly. Nothing held back.”

“I know,” The Process said serenely. “Fortunately, I can feel an analog to satisfaction, I think. When the day of reckoning comes, I expect to experience that emotion in the fullest.”

More work!

“We decided to degrade the coverage,” Greg told me and Nur over a hasty working lunch. “It looks like we’re not finding that part any time soon.”

“Is that smart?” I asked him.

“Depends on whether you think degraded coverage is better than having the cameras all flicker in and out at random,” Greg replied. “Or whether Nur can actually find that part.”

“I can’t find that part,” Nur replied. “I think we can jury-rig a replacement, but it’ll take time. Meanwhile, the system keeps getting more damaged. I don’t know what will happen if we keep trying to run the network at full coverage, but I’d rather not have all of the security net fry. That’ll take even longer to repair.”

“So we degrade the coverage,” Greg agreed. “If it makes you feel any better, your boyfriend thinks we should take the risk of a full collapse, and work very, very quickly.”

“You don’t agree, though.” I let the ‘boyfriend’ thing slide. Damned if I knew what we were doing along those lines, although that was more than half my fault.

Greg shrugged. “I’d like to agree. But if the security net goes all the way down, any saboteurs would have a field day. At least this way we’re still protected if somebody comes down with situational psychosis. It’s the old better than nothing trick, as my grandmother used to say.”

I realized I had to do something fairly horror-y, and that might actually get the book in proper shape. Here’s hoping!

“He’s not doing well, is he?” I asked Gina quietly.

She looked back at Syah, who was sitting up in the bed. He had a handheld in his good hand, and was trying not to scowl at it. “He’s healing,” she allowed. “Just not as quickly as he should be. There’s some kind of resistance going on, in his head. I don’t think Syah’s giving himself full permission to get better.”

“Wait. Why wouldn’t he do that, Gina? Everybody knows you can’t let yourself get in the way of your own body.”

Gina quirked one side of her mouth. “Why do you think, Pam? It’s guilt. Heck, even the readouts say so. Poor bastard probably blames himself for [Spoiler].”

I looked at Syah myself. There was a tension there, uncomfortable and unspoken. I sighed. “I want to say that’s ridiculous, but it’s not, is it? Dammit, he stuck his arm down in the middle of live circuitry to sequester the sabotage. What was he supposed to do, use both hands?”

“He probably thinks so. Yes,” she went on before I could interrupt, “that’s stupid of him. You’d be amazed how stupid smart people can be, when it comes to second-guessing themselves.”

“Okay,” I managed, after a minute. “Can I do anything for him?”

“Sure. Tell him to get up, stop feeling sorry for himself, and walk it off.” I blinked at Gina, and she laughed. “What do you think this is, the Dark Ages? You can’t talk a mental block to death. Besides, the crystals don’t lie, Pam. They say he’s just in a funk, and they’re right. I’ve tried to tell him that, but maybe he’ll listen to you. I figure its worth a shot.”