Machine Man - Max Barry [91]
“Well, Carl appeared on the lawn. We were in the labs, watching on CCTV. Carl—and you know, we liked Carl. We liked him a lot. We were sad he ran off. Anyway, Carl sets off the Fiber Shield, and boom, disappears in fog. Everyone starts shooting. So much gunfire, we could actually feel it. And you know how far down we were.
“The guys in the lobby with their electroshock cannon, they open fire. They spray these million-volt darts, which are a lot lighter than bullets, of course, and when they hit the fog they go everywhere. Left, right, up in the air, back at the security guys. They hit guards, they land on the roof, they spam the lobby, and everywhere they’re sparking and starting fires. It’s already chaos and then a Hummer takes one in the fuel tank. Then it’s nothing but fire and smoke and people screaming, and Carl comes in and does what he likes.
“So now everyone’s really keen to recapture Carl,” said Jason. He frowned at something on my chest, tapped it, and looked at another cat, who approached. “Since public exposure at this point would not be good for the company. Of course they sent security guys off after him, and of course that didn’t work, because Carl is, well, Better. So now it’s your turn to go. After Carl.”
The chains around my arms rattled to the floor. Both limbs moved smoothly into a loose resting position. From this angle, I could see that my left arm definitely did not have a hand. It had a hole.
“Arms online in ten.”
I said, “Why. Does—”
“Five. Four. Three. Two.”
“Stand by,” said Jason. “This might feel weird.”
“Arms online.”
I felt a distant prickling, like somebody telling me a story about my childhood. My right arm, the one with tripod fingers, twitched. I realized I had done that, and was immediately struck with a bolt of agonizing phantom pain. I screamed and tried to grab the arm, to unbend the muscles. My other arm swung in an arc. Jason ducked. My metal limbs clanged together. I tried to cry out but had no breath. Jason shouted. Lab assistants attacked laptops. The bulbous arm made a rapid clicking noise, like a nine-year-old riding a bike downhill with playing cards stuck in the spokes. I had seen a boy cruising like that once, when I was a kid. I had thought it the coolest thing ever.
“Dr. Neumann! Stop that! You’ll damage the hammers!”
“Dampening! Full spectrum!”
The pain subsided. I whimpered soundlessly against its return.
“Sorry,” said Jason. “We’re still feeling our way around here. Don’t clench your left fist. That’s a mental command for firing.”
My teeth chattered. “Firing. What.”
“Aha. You have an MAC-701 rotary cannon in that arm.” He grinned. “Nice, huh?”
I began to shake. “Take. Them. Off.”
“Dr. Neumann—”
“Don’t. Want! This!” The gun arm rattled, stopped, rattled.
“Dr. Neumann! Dr. Neumann!”
A window opened in my head. Through it poured Jason, and his desire for me to calm down. I felt his compassion and excitement and awe, and when I did calm down, I felt his gratitude. It was extraordinary. What had Jason called it? Better Voice. That was underselling it. That was like calling sex Better Hugging.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.”
“THERE’S A lot of ammunition in that arm. But it’s not unlocked. That was one of Cautery’s conditions. We can enable it when you’re clear of the building. And just so you know, we can remotely disable it. That was another condition. Which sucks, I know, but we won’t need to do that. Just try to, you know, not shoot anything except Carl.”
“Connecting subsystems.”
Muscle spasms ran through my legs. Before I could inhale, the pain was gone.
“Better,” said a boy in a white T-shirt. “We’re getting this.”
“Responses verified. We have a solid feedback loop.”
“Screen is green.”
I found the window in my head,