Chapter 5: Hanging Knight

“You’ve trained for this, Noelle. I’ve watched you carefully. Believe me when I say, you’re as ready as anyone.” Hermes was leaning against the bulkhead, watching me carefully.

I didn’t feel ready. Despite the fact that I’d lived my whole life, except for the last couple of months, inside the massive computer simulation we called “the Matrix,” I was afraid to return. But Hermes was right. I’d been given the tools to cope – including the very techniques I was currently using to calm my breathing and still my racing heart.

I nodded. “I’m ready.”

He reached out and clasped my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before he took the chair next to mine. Abhaya and Britt rounded out our “away team;” Zephyr would be in command in our absence. “Let’s do it.” Hermes’ tone made it an order.

The instant when the probe goes into the skull is hard to describe. There are no nerves along the pathway the machines had installed, but still, somehow, the metal connector feels cold. Muscles everywhere in the body tense involuntarily, and the hair on the back of the neck – yes, my hair was finally starting to grow out! – stands up. The probe is like the first, tentative touch of a fickle and dangerous god. It is the howl of coyotes on a moonless night, the acrid smell of danger and the frisson of infinite possibility . . . .

. . . . And just like that, we were in. The place was an office at the back of a boutique clothing store. It contained little more than a desk set, including both a stylish landline and a computer. The last ring of the phone sounded in my ears as we appeared.

In theory, we could have entered the Matrix at the hacienda itself — I knew Jo had a landline. But we didn’t want to do anything that might lead Agents to her, and our insertions do leave tracks.

So we entered a few miles east. We all knew where we were, our location in relation to Jo’s hacienda, and a few other facts that we hoped we wouldn’t need to know concerning the area. Britt immediately went to the window, moved the curtains just enough to see out, and looked around in the twilight. “All clear in the alley.”

“All right,” Hermes responded. “You’re up, Noelle.”

I sat down at the computer and hit the spacebar on the keyboard, waking up both the CPU and the monitor. It took me less than two minutes to get through the owner’s primitive security – I was good even before my simulator training; now I was at a whole different level. Another thirty seconds, and I had disabled the store’s security system and put the feed from the cameras on a loop that showed nothing moving in the empty shop. “Done.” I took an extra five seconds to wipe any prints off of the keyboard. It probably didn’t matter this time, but I’m a professional.

Hermes nodded in satisfaction. “Let’s go.”

We left the office and glided silently down a hallway that led to a small storage area and the door to the alley. We paused again at the door while Britt checked for movement. Then she was out the door, and I followed.

Hermes paused to clap a hand on Abhaya’s shoulder, then he followed Britt and me. Abhaya was staying at the shop to watch our best exit point and warn us if it became compromised.

The alley was short, and it took us only a minute to get to the street. We were in a relatively busy area, and we simply flagged down a cab.

Britt hopped into the passenger’s seat. “Take us to Painted Feather Way, please.”

The driver nodded and headed west. “You folks in town for a conference?” He was an older man with the barest hint of the accent of Yucatán left in his voice. His tone was easy, conversational.

Britt was in the drivers’ seat, so we let her – or, in the Matrix, “him,” take it. “Nah. Just a little holiday. A friend said the views up there are great.”

The driver chuckled. “Oh, yeah. But people in that neighborhood get antsy when they see strangers walking around. Be careful.”

“Yeah? Well . . . we’ll do that.” Britt pretended to think a minute, then said, “You have a card or something, in case we need a ride later?”

“Sure.” The driver reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a card and handed it over. “I’ll be working ’til around ten. After that, you’re on your own.” You could hear the smile in his voice, as he contemplated clocking off, heading to his home and his wife . . . .

And all of it is illusion.

The car ride was around twenty minutes, and the area got less and less densely populated every minute of it. It all looked very familiar to me, of course, but I felt like I was seeing it through new eyes. I had always thought of Jo’s hacienda as a refuge. Now, it was something else. I didn’t know what yet, but I knew for certain that “rest and relaxation” would not be on the menu.

Traffic was light once we moved out of the city, with nothing on the road in Jo’s neighborhood except for a family who were headed out on vacation with half their worldly possessions stuffed in a van. We left the cab a block from Jo’s place and didn’t start walking until it had departed.

It was now full dark, and in the desert dryness the temperature was quickly dropping, becoming cool and pleasant. A light wind came up the hillside, carrying the unmistakable smells of someone’s barbecue. . . . All illusion.

Our cabbie was right. It would be better not to alarm the neighbors by spending too long outside at this hour. We walked up the street quickly, feeling a light breeze and came to her gate five minutes later.

As we came up the driveway, a figure detached itself from the small outbuilding by the wrought iron gate. “Consuela!” I greeted her warmly. She was an inspired cook as well as a wardrobe wizard, always ready to help the guests look their feminine best. More importantly, she was a sweet and gentle soul who made everyone feel special.

“Welcome back, Miss Noelle,” she said, ignoring, as always, my male appearance. Her smile matched my own. “And you, sir,” she said, addressing Hermes without naming him. “Miss Jo is anxious to see you both.”

Britt stayed with Consuela at the gatehouse, keeping look out and securing our easiest escape route. Hermes followed me up the long driveway and across the courtyard, to the steps and the front door. I raised my hand to knock, but it opened before I completed the move.

“Hello, Miss Noelle,” the short woman said shyly. “Miss Jo asked that you both join her in the upstairs parlor.”

“Thanks, Lourdes,” I said. I had a sudden memory of Lourdes’ impish smile as she showed me some of her makeup tricks. So many happy memories in this place.

The inside staircase was a curving showpiece – Spanish tile risers and terracotta steps, with a wrought iron railing that continued along the landing at the top. We took the stairs quickly, walked across the landing, and entered the upper front room.

The parlor was dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows with a spectacular view of the city in the distance. Jo was sitting with her back to us, smoking a cigarette as usual, and gazing out at her view. “C’mon in,” she said without turning around. “Have a seat.”

Hermes came around the couch and took a chair opposite Jo. I moved to take the other, but she patted the couch and said, “You sit here. Let me look at you.”

As always, Jo made me want to smile. She seemed so out-of-place in this grand house, a diminutive, older black woman who never gave a thought to her own appearance, even while she made sure her guests were primped and pampered. I leaned over, gave her cheek a peck, and took the offered seat. “It’s good to see you, Jo.”

“Is it?” Her eyes looked at once mischievous and serious. “Well, we’ll see about that. C’mon. I need a closer view.” Oddly, she leaned in close, gazing at my face searchingly. After a long moment, she said, “Huh. Well. About what I’d expected.”

“Jo,” I said patiently, “You’ve known me for years. Do I look any different?”

“Getting unplugged is a strange experience. No telling how people will do.”

Her words brought me back to a nagging thought I’d been reluctant to raise. “Are you? Unplugged, I mean.”

She smiled enigmatically, reached out and flicked ash from her cigarette into a kitschy Vegas-themed ashtray that looked even more out-of-place than she did. “That’s complicated. Story for another day.”

She turned her attention to my superior. “And how are you doing, Hermes? I see you haven’t aged a day.”

“I can assure you, my portrait of Dorian Grey looks a bit worse for the wear these days. But I’m well. And Zephyr sends his regards.”

“My girl here working out for you?”

“Everything you promised,” he replied, smiling.

“And for you, Noelle? How’s reality treating you? Is being a woman all you hoped for?” Her eyes found mine again.

I thought about the ghastly food, the homespun, the close quarters on the ship, the constant threat of Sentinels . . . and the wonder that I felt, every moment, knowing that I was finally in the right body. That I had been all along, and just hadn’t known it. “Yes.” I thought about my moments with Zephyr. Before, all I’d had were erotic dreams of being a woman; now . . . now I could have the real thing. “All that, and more.”

She nodded, but didn’t smile. “That’s good, child. Very good. You’re going to need all that positive energy. Because you need to pull Cleo out, too, and it won’t be easy.”

“Cleo? She wants out?” I was surprised. I had met Cleo here a few years ago, and our visits had overlapped once or twice since. She was British; sounded upper crust. I didn’t know much about her male persona – as a rule, the visitors at the hacienda didn’t tend to share many personal details – but I was under the impression that her day job had something to do with finance.

“She hasn’t said anything,” Jo responded. “But you need to get her out.”

Hermes shook his head. “Jo, you know it doesn’t work that way. Even with trans adults, we don’t approach them directly. They need to seek us out. It’s the only way we know they might be ready.”

She gave Hermes a fond smile. “Teach your grandmother to suck eggs, will you? I know all your rules, Hermes. I helped you break them before, and,” she pointed at me, “you’ve just acknowledged that I occasionally know what I’m talking about.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgment, but wasn’t ready to concede the point. “I know. But this is different. Every time we get someone unplugged, there’s a huge risk that we will simply destroy their mind – that they won’t be able to adapt. I’ve seen it happen. We can never be sure, but we need to be as certain as we can be. If this ‘Cleo’ is ready, she’ll find a way to reach out.”

“She can wait, maybe,” Jo countered. “But you can’t. You’ve spent forty years searching for the One. You need to go now. And Noelle needs to make the contact, since Cleo knows her.”

I didn’t know what Jo was talking about, but it clearly meant something to Hermes. His hands slowly closed around the arms of his chair, as if he needed the support to remain upright in his seat. “You’re sure?” he whispered. He looked eager, excited, and as focused as I had ever seen him.

“I’ve told you before, nothing is ‘sure.’ But I know the odds, and this is the best you’ll get.”

I looked from Jo to Hermes and back again. “What are you talking about?”

It was Hermes who answered. “There is a prophecy, dating to the foundation of Zion, that a human born in the Matrix will find a way to take the battle to the AI. That we will not just be hunted forever. I hoped to live to see it . . . maybe now, I will.”

I had been forced to accept the fact that I had lived in a simulation all my life, but oddly enough, this seemed even more strange. Strange, and — much as I yearned to take the fight to the enemy — too damned much.

I found my hands balling into fists, and spoke through clenched teeth. “I want to fight. To destroy these . . . things! Always, everyone is telling me to wait. That we can’t, that we aren’t strong enough. And it turns out we’re waiting for, what? A prophecy? Are you fricking kidding me?”

Before either of them could respond, Hermes’ cell phone rang. Without taking his eyes off me, he flicked it open. “Yes?” He was silent for a moment. “Coming up the street? We’re on our way.” He snapped the phone shut and rose. “Britt says there’s a police cruiser heading this way. We need to go. Jo, I’ll think about it. What’s Cleo’s dead name?”

Jo remained seated. “Anthony St. Claire. He works in the City. In London.”

I hopped up and went closer to the front window to get a view of the gate, maybe forty yards away and well lit. Britt was looking out to the street, Consuela a few steps behind. I couldn’t see any sign of the cruiser Britt had reported, but unless it was running its lights, I probably wouldn’t.

Just as I was about to turn away, Consuela’s image shifted, grew, and darkened. It took just an instant for me to realize what was happening. “Britt!!!” I screamed loud enough to wake the dead – loud enough to be heard through the thick windows.

But it was too late. Britt was just starting to move when the Agent who had replaced Consuela raised a handgun and shot her in the head at point blank range. As Britt’s body spun, the Agent fired again, presumably to make sure.

Hermes was suddenly at my side, pulling me away from the window. “Back!!!” he hissed. He spun me around. “Go, go, go!!!”

Crouched low, I followed Hermes out of the room and onto the landing. We were just about to take the stairs when we saw Lourdes, by the front door, begin to change shape. “This way!!!” I shouted. We charged across the landing as shots chipped the railing and wall behind us.

“Anyone else in the building?” Hermes was following right behind me, as I tore down a hallway.

“Just Jo.” I could hear the sound of hard-soled shoes on the terracotta tiles behind us. I knew that the hallway ended at a door to a balcony that overlooked the pool. There were no stairs down – but Hermes had taught me all about bending the rules.

“Okay,” he said. “Plan Delta. See you back at the Bel!

I wasn’t happy about it – the contingency plan involved splitting up, and was based on the reasonable assumption that any Agent would follow Hermes since he was about as high on their “Most Wanted” list as it was possible to get. But our mission was blown to hell and Britt was dead. Plan Delta didn’t even make the top ten on my list of things I was seriously unhappy about.

I burst through the door to the balcony, sprinted forward and lept, grabbing the wrought iron railing as I passed. As I cartwheeled through the air, spinning 180 degrees, I saw Hermes’ shoe hit the rail by my hand, then he was sailing forward into the night.

Just before my spinning arm came in contact with the railing, I released my grip and dropped, landing on my feet on the patio under the balcony. Using my considerable forward momentum, I sped back toward the house, then dropped behind a large planter.

I looked back just in time to see Hermes jump from the roof of the pool house and disappear behind the perimeter wall, the matte black of his clothing almost indistinguishable from the dark night sky. Seconds later, I heard the smack of the Agent’s hard-soled shoe on the balcony railing, then saw his form sail over the pool — easily thirty feet. As Hermes had presumably done, he hit the roof of the poolhouse running, then followed Hermes over the back wall and down the hillside.

What I was doing was a risk, and probably a crazy one. But I knew that the nearest landline was in the hacienda. So long as the Agent was chasing Hermes, and so long as there was only one, it was my best chance.

The back door was locked, but picking locks – an extremely useful skill – was another talent I had taken time to hone in the simulator. I was back inside in seconds.

The lights were on in the front of the house, but not the rear. I knew the hacienda well, so I was able to move forward quickly and quietly, all the while listening for any sounds. I didn’t hear anything coming from inside the house, but outside was another matter. Anguished, heart-rending cries were coming from the direction of the gate.

Crouching low, I crept into the front room and peered out the window. Consuelaa was on her knees, cradling Britt’s lifeless body, wailing as she rocked back and forth. Her face was lit by the red and blue strobe of a police cruiser. A uniformed officer stood by the door of the car, talking into a radio, but I couldn't hear him. Calling for backup.

The landline was on an occasional table by an arm chair. I crept over to it, lifted the receiver, and called Zephyr on the Belisarius. “Mayday! Extract!”

I was holding the receiver and looking out the window, which is why I saw the Police Officer shift shape into an Agent. He drew his weapon, looking straight at me, somehow able to pierce the shadows between us. I heard the sound of his shot . . . .

. . . And then, as suddenly as I had left, I was back on the ship, and Zephyr was bending down in front of me, looking every bit as bad as I felt.

I knew the answer, but I asked anyway. “Britt?”

“She’s dead, Noelle. I’m . . . .” He stopped, shaking his head, then pulled out his cell phone.

I looked at the two chairs to my right. Hermes, next to me, was to all appearances sleeping calmly, his chest rising and falling with easy breaths. But Britt, on his other side, was clearly gone. There was no physical manifestation of a bullet hole – it hadn’t happened in the “real world,” after all. But dying in the Matrix causes the brain to stop functioning, and the body can’t survive it. A trickle of blood ran down her chin; she’d probably bitten her tongue in her last moment of life.

Zephyr was on his cell phone. “We’re blown, Abhaya. I’m pulling you out.” As soon as he got confirmation, the ship’s “landline” began to ring. Kai, standing by Abhaya’s chair, went to answer it.

I got out of my seat and stood by Abhaya’s chair as his eyes opened. He gave Kai a grateful glance, then looked at me. “What happened?”

“An Agent caught us at the hacienda and shot Britt. Hermes called Plan Delta and we split up.”

“You left her?”

I shook my head, sitting on my immediate urge to bite back. “She died instantly, Abhaya. There was nothing we could do.”

He looked sick, but pushed through it. “Where’s Hermes?”

“Making his way down a dark hillside,” Zephyr reported, looking at the screen from where he was monitoring Hermes in the Matrix. “I can’t tell if he still has an Agent tailing him.”

I said, “One took off after him, but I think he gave up, because he reappeared at the hacienda and shot at me just as you pulled me out.”

Zephyr chewed on his cheek a second, then said, “You sure it was the same one? They all look alike to me.”

“It looked like the same one to me, though I didn’t have time to study it closely.”

He appeared to reach a decision, and used his cell phone to call Hermes. After a couple anxious moments, he got an answer. “Hermes, it’s Zephyr. Noelle thinks the Agent that followed you gave up and returned to the hacienda; she saw it there before we pulled her out. . . . Yeah, me too, but she thought so. . . . Right, already did it. He’s here. . . . Yeah, that may be your best bet. We’ll continue to monitor. . . . Out.”

Zephyr put away his phone. “He thinks no-one is behind him, but he was lying quiet for a bit just to be sure. There’s nothing close other than houses, so he’s going to need to walk to a busier area and see if he can get a cab to our alternative extraction site.”

I had a sudden idea. “Zephyr, I think I might have an easier alternative. Let me check something.” I practically sprinted to our main monitoring array for the Matrix, which was currently unoccupied. Presumably Dakota and Blake were at other stations. I dropped into the seat and furiously began running queries.

“What have you got?” Zephyr had followed me and was at my shoulder.

“Just before the cab dropped us off, we saw a big van pulling out of a driveway, stuffed to the gills with vacation gear and kids. The house is almost certainly deserted. If I can figure out the address and confirm it’s got a working landline, Hermes can use it.”

“Risky . . . but probably less risky than having to find a cab. You sure about the location?”

I nodded without looking up from the screen. “Yeah – big house at the corner of Marble Ridge and the street just before Painted Feather . . . . There it is! Cross-checking the phone records now . . . .” I typed quickly and waited impatiently for a response. “There! It’s got one!”

An alert popped up on my screen. “Wait, hold on . . . Ah! They’ve got a security system installed. Give me a minute . . . .” My fingers were moving so quickly I could barely keep up with them. But there aren’t too many people who are better at this task than I am, and our Matrix interface is a hacker’s dream. “Got it. The system’s disabled.”

I spun and looked at the XO, who didn’t waste any time dithering. He pulled out his cell, called Hermes, and handed the phone to me.

Hermes’ voice was unruffled. “What do you have, Zephyr?”

“It’s Noelle. We want to bring you out on the landline at 82 Cross Canyon. It’s not far from where you are. On the corner of Marble Ridge, the street we came up to get to Painted Feather.”

He didn’t bother asking for our rationale, which was refreshing. “I was trying to avoid going on Marble Ridge; it’s big enough and close enough to make it the logical artery for them to watch.”

I looked at the map. “If you’re still on the hillside, I can bring you in a back way.”

“Tell me.”

I gave him the directions, then said, “we’ve disabled the home security system, but it will certainly be locked.”

“I’ll take care of it.” He didn’t seem concerned. “Expect me in about fifteen minutes; I’ll take it slow and easy.”

“Okay, boss. Out.” I ended the call and gave the phone back to Zephyr.

But now that I had done what I could do, there was nothing left but waiting. Which left my mind wide open to think about the last few . . . minutes? Was it really just minutes? And about Britt.

I slumped in the seat. “Zephyr . . . there was nothing we could do. It was so fast.”

He squatted down in front of my chair so that he wouldn’t be looking down at me. “I know. We all know; Kai and I were monitoring when it happened.”

“She had the most amazing reflexes. Even in her male form . . . .”

Zephyr shook his head. “The Agents are quicker than we are. Quicker than the best of us. They can literally dodge bullets.”

“But they weren’t able to catch Hermes.”

“They run fast, but it’s more like a human pace. And their eyesight’s as good as a human with good vision, but near as we can tell it’s not much better. The reflexes seem to be different.”

“That . . . doesn’t make sense.” I was puzzled, trying to piece through what I’d learned in the simulator and what I’d just experienced. “I mean, the AI designed the Matrix, and designed the Agents. Why limit them in any way? Why can’t they fly, or run a hundred miles an hour?”

Zephyr rose slowly and held out a hand to help me out of the seat. “Honestly, we don’t know. Maybe it didn’t want the Agents to be strong enough to break the Matrix? But that’s just a theory. All we know for sure is what we’ve seen them do – and not do, if you know what I mean.”

“God, I hate this!” I sounded as confused, frightened, angry and downright disgusted as I felt.

But I took his hand and stood, and Zephyr pulled me in for a brief and comforting hug. Then we went back to the operations area, where Kai and Abhaya were standing by Britt’s body. They’d removed the Matrix interface, but they hadn’t moved her yet.

Zephyr took charge of the situation. “Can you take her body to her own bed for now? We’ll have a proper remembrance when the Captain’s back.”

They nodded and moved to raise her out of the chair where she had died.

Zephyr got on the intercom. “Blake, we’ve got a situation. I want you to land us somewhere unobtrusive and power down everything except our Matrix interfaces, passive external monitoring and internal communications.”

His response was instant. “On it.”

As the ship began to move, Zephyr said, “This would be a really bad time for Sentinels to show up, and given how our luck’s been running, I’m going to assume that’s what’ll happen.”

I nodded. I knew from all of my training that Hermes would die if his physical interface with the Matrix failed for any reason before he got back to a landline. Using the EMP would temporarily disable all of our electronics, which would definitely sever his connection. We waited in tense silence as the ship slowly sank lower and lower.

Blake keyed the mic to say, “looks like what used to be a ballpark, right on the edge of the lake. I’ll put down there.”

“Huh,” I said. “I’ve been to a game at the Brewer’s stadium. It wasn’t on the lake.”

Zephyr shrugged. “Who knows? If the history is remotely accurate, the U.S. kept going until the 2070’s or so. Plenty of time to build a new ballpark.”

I thought about that. How the Matrix just messes with your mind. Ancient history – well, ancient from an American perspective — that hadn’t even happened in the year I thought it was when I took that red pill . . . .

The ship settled softly. Immediately, the lights went out, except for the Matrix monitors beside us. Hermes’ resting face, now lit by a green glow, looked somehow eerie and eldrich.

More time passed.

Moving quietly and slowly by the low light, Kai and Abhaya rejoined us. Kai gave my shoulder a squeeze. “You okay?”

“I’ll manage. I guess.”

“Yeah.” She lapsed into silence.

Blake’s voice came low over the intercom. “Getting a ghost image from the perimeter monitor we dropped on the way in. Six miles back.”

Zephyr’s face had a rueful smile. “The party wouldn’t be complete without that.”

But there wasn’t much we could do that we hadn’t done already. Our Matrix monitor was showing that Hermes was still on the move, and he was close to the house I had identified. Hopefully, he would be out before we had to worry about the Sentinel.

Zephyr had Dakota go up to take the weapons station, just in case.

“Six . . . no, eight Sentinels confirmed.” Blake’s voice over the intercom was soft. “Bearing is still off.”

Zephyr just nodded.

Hermes was at the house now. In moments, he was inside. Still, we heard nothing.

A phone rang . . . but it was Zephyr’s cell.

“What’s up, boss?” he asked, answering. “Of course. On it.” Turning to me, he said, “He can’t find where they keep their phone. Call it.”

I dashed back to the room where I had done my work and pulled up my searches. I was writing down the number when Blake keyed his mic. “Three of them are headed in this general direction. Still four miles out.”

I ran back to the operations room and went to the landline. Mercifully, it was a punch-button keyboard, so I was able to dial quickly. One ring . . . two . . . three . . . .

At seven rings, I was starting to panic. Zephyr’s cell phone rang again. “Can you hear it?” he asked as soon as he answered. “Yeah, she was sure.” Zephyr looked at me again. “You are sure, right?”

I nodded. “Positive. That’s the number. It should be ringing.”

Hermes stayed on the cell phone while he kept looking.

Notwithstanding my assurances, I handed the landline receiver to Kai and went back to double check that I’d written the number correctly. And that my computer search was right. Both checked out. It’s a big house . . . Maybe the telephone is kept out of the way . . . But, maybe I just misdialed?

“Those three Sentinels are just two miles back now. Still headed this way.” Blake was beginning to sound tense.

I dashed back to the operations area and took the landline back from Kai. But just as I was about to hang up to redial, Hermes stirred in his chair and opened his eyes. He took in the darkened room and the quiet in an instant. “Status?” he asked Zephyr.

“Three Sentinels within two miles; at least five more in the area. We’re on the ground; minimal power.” He bent over and removed the probe from the back of Hermes’ skull.

Hermes rose. “Good. Shut down everything. Blake’s still in the cockpit?”

Zephyr nodded. “I sent Dakota to the weapons station, too.”

Hermes nodded in approval. “Good. Take over the principal pilot’s station and have Blake co-pilot. Everyone else, secure stations. Comms discipline.”

Zephyr nodded and left; Hermes, Kai, Abhaya and I managed to find our crash seats before all the lights went out.

We were back to waiting, hiding . . . hoping that we wouldn’t be seen. Even if we were lucky, that meant hours of just sitting, keeping quiet in the dark ship, with nothing to do but watch Britt’s death in my mind, over and over again.

Tough, seemingly no-nonsense Britt, who had nonetheless gotten a kick out of pretending to be a stoned deadhead . . . and who had smiled like a girl when I found her some sports bras . . . . The woman who had brought me kicking and screaming into the real world, who had forced my unused muscles to function as evolution had intended, had died forty yards from me. And I had done nothing to prevent it — nor anything to avenge her.

I had run away.

And now we were being hunted by machines. Hardware rather than software, but designed and programmed by the same pitiless intelligence. An intelligence wholly devoid of feeling, knowing neither fear nor hope, love nor hatred. It gave no thought to ending an inconvenient human life. Not Britt’s . . . and not mine.

I must not fear.
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To be continued . . . .