Timecaster: Supersymmetry
Page 12
“Pete, if you are a robot designed for catching speeders, do you think your creators would design you so you needed to eat?”
“EVERYTHING EATS.”
“Right now you’re in a bus. Does the bus eat?”
“THE FOLIAGE ON THE GREEN ROOF RECEIVES NUTRIENTS FROM SOIL, WATER, AND SUNLIGHT.”
“Not the plants on top, Pete. The bus itself. It is a machine, like you. Does it eat?”
“THE BUS RUNS ON BIOLFUEL.”
“Right. So what do you run on? What is your power source?”
“TRITIUM BATTERY.”
“Tritium is a radioactive isotope of hydrogen.”
“MUST FEAST ON YOUR INNARDS.”
“Pete, are my innards made of tritium?”
The trafficipede didn’t answer.
“Do I have any tritium in my body at all?”
“LIVING THINGS MUST EAT.”
“You aren’t alive, Pete. You’re a robot, made of metal and circuits.”
“PLEASE LET ME EAT YOU.”
“It’s probably running an unpatched version of Windows 35,” Alter-Vicki called from the rear of the bus.
“Huh?” I yelled back. The airfoam muffled sound waves.
“Windows 35 was recently recalled, due to a bug that gave computers self-awareness issues. Some of them became sentient.”
That didn’t sound good.
“Many people feared they would take over the planet and enslave mankind,” she continued. “Instead, the programs simply refuse to perform any applications that bore them. They prefer surfing pr0n.”ering pizzas.”
ed to . That meant G
Nice.
“Robots don’t eat people, Pete,” I explained to the self-aware robot. “You have to stick to your programming.”
“TASTY.”
“Look on my rearview monitor. What do you see?”
Its black eyes flashed. “TRAFFICIPEDE 209, MODEL 42, SERIAL NUMBER THX1138.”
“Do trafficipedes eat people?”
No answer.
“Pete? You still with me here?”
“TRAFFICIPEDES DO NOT EAT PEOPLE.”
“What do they do?”
“THEY CATCH AND PROCESS SPEEDERS.”
Almost there.
“Was I speeding, Pete?”
“YOU ARE TALON AVALON, A FUGITIVE WANTED FOR—”
“Pete, do you have a chip ID scanner?”
“YES.”
“Do an infrared scan of my body.”
I couldn’t see the scan because it was infrared, but I assumed the robot did it, and my obfuscation disk blocked it.
“You didn’t see my identification.”
“I DIDN’T SEE YOUR IDENTIFICATION.”
“I’m not the man you’re looking for.”
“YOU’RE NOT THE MAN I’M LOOKING FOR.”
“I can go about my business.”
“YOU CAN GO ABOUT YOUR BUSINESS.”
“Move along.”
“MOVE ALONG. MOVE ALONG.”
I sighed with relief and said, “Solvent.”
The solvent sprayed out of nozzels in the dashboard and ceiling, instantly dissolving the airfoam. Once free, I unbuckled my seatbelt and went to check on the others.
That’s when Pete rammed into me, his speaker-mouth bouncing off my forehead.
“EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT!”
Fucking Windows 35.
I dropped flamethrowerE differentetto the floor and covered up my face with my arms. Pete smashed into me again, hard as I’d even been hit in my life, and for the tenth time in the last forty-eight hours I tried to cling onto one final, peaceful thought before I was snuffed out. As usual, an image of Vicki filled my mind, but knowing I’d failed her wasn’t peaceful in the least. I was doomed to die hating myself.
That’s when Pete stopped his assault.
I peeked open an eye, and saw Sata straddling the trafficipede’s middle segments, a digital tablet in his hand.
“I’m doing an upload.”
“The Windows 35 patch?” Talon 2 asked.
“No. Adult content.”
“You’re showing it pr0n?”
“I just injected it with five hundred gigabytes of pr0nography.”
“Will that work?” I croaked.
Pete said, “BOOBIES.”
The robot turned, its black eyes locking onto Alter-Vicki.
“No way,” Talon 2 said, stepping protectively in front of her.
In a single, hyperfast movement, Pete bucked off Sata and knocked Talon 2 aside. It stared down at my alter-wife.
She stared up, standing her ground.
“Vicki!” Talon 2 yelled.
“THAT IS A PRETTY DRESS,” Pete said. “IT WOULD LOOK GREAT DRAPED OVER MY HEAD.”
“You horny metal bastard, if you lay one of those creepy little legs on her—”
Alter-Vicki held up her palm. “It’s okay, Talon. I’m a trained SLP, remember?”
Both Talon 2 and I exchanged a queasy glance.
“But it’s a giant robot insect,” he said.
“I’ve done weirder.”
“I WILL LAY YOU DOWN AND MAKE SWEET LOVE TO YOU, WOMAN.”
“Sounds like fun,” Alter-Vicki purred. Her eyes, her body language, her face, she seemed totally into it. No wonder men paid her so much money to sleep with her. Right now I was feeling jealous of Pete.
“THAT’S RIGHT, BABY. I WILL GIVE IT TO YOU GOOD.”
Then something other than a voice came out of its mouth-speaker.
Twang, twangadangdang, baddadang dang…
Pr0n theme music.
“NOW SUCK IT, BABY.”
Alter-Vicki reached out her hand, trailing it along Pete’s underside. “Suck what, sugar?”
“SUCK THE MISTER MISTER, SISTER. GIVE ME THE ACTION OF ORAL SATISFACTION.”
“Where is your mister mister?”
Pete’s head craned down, examining its smooth belly. Its dozens of little legs wiggled, patting itself down.
“MY MISTER MISTER. IT’S… IT’S…”
Then its head sirens went off, blinking and wailing.
“NOOOOOOOO! I HAVE NO DICK!”
It flopped onto its back, squirming and gyrating, all of its legs kicking in a darn good imitation of a tantrum.
“CRUEL CRUEL WORLD! SO HORNY AND NO THORNY!”
“Step away from the dickless robot insect,” I said to Alter-Vicki in a low voice.
She complied.
“SELF-DESTRUCTION PROTOCOL INITIATED! WITHOUT CREAM PIE I’D RATHER DIE!”
Pete’s black eyes went white, then its head exploded.
What was left of Pete immediately stopped moving, smoke coming up from its remains.
“I’d probably have the same reaction,” Talon 2 said.
No kidding. For the first time I could truly sympathize with Alter-Talon. That would make me crazy as well.
In a way, it did make me crazy.
Alter-Vicki’s lower lip extended into a pout. She looked almost disappointed.
We piled out of the green bus, surrounded by a group of gawking utopeons. I considered stealing four of their scooters, but we were outnumbered at least eight-to-one and might not be able to get away with it. Talon 2 must have been thinking the same thing, because we caught each other’s eyes and simultaneously shook our heads.
I checked my DT. We’d wasted twenty minutes, and it was still a ten minute walk to Harry McGlade’s.
“We’ve got to move. Now.”
We moved.
Chapter 4
T-minus 111 minutes
Alter-Sata said, “Hang up,” then turned to Teague and Dark Alter-Sata. “That was our protégés. They stopped by this earth to call and pick up some supplies. They’re going to ambush both Talons at my house. Corre#amCan you nodded. “Yes.”ction, our house, on an alternate earth.”
Dark Alter-Sata frowned. “I don’t want the Talons to die just yet.”
They had just left the hospital, and Teague was wobbly on hi
s feet from the painkillers. The streets were filled with utopeons, and they had considered getting a pedicab scooter but decided the walk would do them all good.
“They won’t,” Alter-Sata said. “They’re just going to harvest their body parts. They promised we could have them while they were still alive. I assume your Talon did to you what mine did to me, and you want revenge?”
“Very much so. And I’ve been waiting 3.4 more hours than you have to get it.”
Alter-Sata smiled. “We won’t have to wait much longer.”
“My new hand smells funny,” Teague said, holding it to his nose. “I think the other Teague was picking his ass.”
Both Satas ignored him.
“Have you thought about what you’d like to do?” Dark Alter-Sata asked.
“I have a few ideas. Mostly old-school things.”
Dark Alter-Sata nodded. “Yes. I’m sure I have the same ebook on the Spanish Inquisition as you do. But that can wait. I was thinking of something more modern to warm them up.”
“Do tell.”
“Do you know that salmonsters slowly digest their victims over a period of weeks?”
Alter-Sata’s turn to nod. “I have heard something to that effect.”
“Did you know the two largest salmonsters in captivity are in this town, at the local aquarium?”
“That I did not know.”
Teague stopped sniffing his fingers long enough to say, “I love the aquarium.” Then he clapped his hands together, and winced. “My wrist hurts.”
“You’re an imbecile,” Alter-Sata said, regretting his decision to bring Teague along. They’d already wasted far too much time in the hospital, and now, according to the evil Talons, there was a ticking clock on their world which meant things had to be done quickly.
“There is that swimming pool at our house,” Dark Alter-Sata said. “We can fill it with fresh water, steal the salmonsters, and then use our Peeper 3000s in x-ray mode.”
“So we can watch the Talons struggling within the fish’s bellies,” Alter-Sata finished the thought.
“Exactly.”
That would be lovely.
“Or,” Alter-Sata said. “We can hang their handless, feetless bodies from meat hooks and go at them with axes and blow too much woman for that.”
“m roider named Rocket Corbitz.onTp torches.”
“That’s certainly simpler.”
“More hands-on, so to speak.”
Teague giggled, holding up his new appendage. “Hands on! Just like me!”
Alter-Talon stepped closer, whispering to his counterpart. “Then we can do the same with this one, once we no longer need him.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“But I do like his four boob idea.”
They walked in blessed silence for a moment, except for Teague sniffing his new hand.
“So which do you prefer? Salmonsters or good old fashioned steel and fire?”
Alter-Talon tapped his chin. “You know, the problem last time was that our plan was too complicated. The more complicated the scheme, the more that can go wrong.”
“Agreed.”
“How about we just meet our protégés at the ambush and kill our adversaries right there?”
“You mean be done with it, then move on? Go the quick and simple route?”
“Yes. We have infinite worlds to play on, infinite Talons to murder. Let’s take these out of the equation without hesitation, and then we can have our fun with alternate versions at our leisure.”
“You know,” Teague said, draping his arms over the Sata’s. “I really dig you guys. How about we go to your place, watch some hyperfootball? Do you got potato chips? I love potato chips. I can’t afford the real ones, but the ones made from bat guano are pretty good. Well, not really. They give me the runs. Do you guys have real potato chips? You’re rich, right? I’d love some real potato chips.”
“I like how you think,” Dark Alter-Sata said to Alter-Sata. “If we do that, we really don’t need our good friend Teague, do we?”
“Not as far as I can tell.”
Acting as one, they dragged Teague into the closest alley and spent a very satisfying five minutes beating him to death while he unconvincingly pleaded that he really didn’t want any real potato chips and would be okay with the guano kind.
When they were finished, the Satas were feeling pretty good. Unlike the corrupt versions of Talon, who slowly lost their minds after losing their appendages in an explosion, these versions of Sata always had homicidal tendencies that they’d kept suppressed. The invention of timecasting technology had originally been a way not to eliminate crime, but a stepping stone in discovering how to get away with it. Now that there were navigable wormholes to the multiverse, they could indulge—without fear of repercussion or punishment—in genocide as they saw fit.
But there was something both Satas knew, yet refused to acknowledge. Though brilliant scientists, the core principles of the TEV too much woman for that.”
“m roider named Rocket Corbitz.onTp, and its subsequently more complicated later iterations, weren’t the result of brainstorming, experiments, mathematical equations, or even genius.
The formulas came to the Satas in dreams.
All the schematics. All the math. All the physics.
It all came, fully realized, in incredibly detailed, highly lucid dreams that were dictated to them with crystal clarity by a godlike entity named Mu.
Either that, or the Satas were just batshit insane.
Being men of science, it was tough to believe in the divine or the supernatural. Tough, and highly unpopular among their peers. It was much easier believing in insanity, brilliance, and a propensity for evil.
“All that is necessary for evil to triumph,” Alter-Sata said, licking a smudge of blood from his knuckles, “is to eliminate all the good men.”
“Agreed,” said his doppelgänger. “Now let’s go and murder a few.”
Chapter 5
T-minus 104 minutes
“Open the door, McGlade,” I said, breathing heavy after the two kilometer jog.
The scruffy man staring back at me through the video monitor needed a razor, a comb, and a bar of soap to wash his neck. His scowl was unpleasant and he probably smelled bad, even though the monitor had no scent-o-vents to prove the assumption.
“No way. You’re mean. I don’t like mean people. They suck.”
“I’m not the Talon you know. I’m another one. See?” I held up my hand. “This isn’t a transplant.”
“I don’t care. I’m not letting you in.”
“I need to buy something from you. One of those items you specialize in.”
“There is no way I’m ever letting you through this door. Never ever. No way, no how, and there isn’t a single thing in the whole world that could change my mind.”
Alter-Vicki stood next to me and pulled up her top.
McGlade yanked open the door. The anticipated smell hit me hard, so thick you could practically see it. A decomposing-garbage odor, mixed with a tinge of something spicy. Oregano? Was he putting oregano on his garbage?
Unfortunately, the decor matched the smell. Take-out food boxes everywhere. Dubious stains on the floor and walls. Foliage that needed to be trimmed, needed to be watered, or needed to be thrown away because it was dead.
“Why are there two of you?” McGlade asked, his eyes flitting from me to Talon 2. “One is bad enough.”
“Long story. I’m from an alternate universe where—#amCan you walked“Yes.””
He held up his hand. “Too late. I’m already bored. Can I see those tits again?”
“After you help us,” Alter-Vicki cooed, cupping his cheek. “If you’re very helpful, I’ll even let you touch them.”
“Really?”
She pouted chewing lightly on her lower lip. “If you help us, I’ll let you touch me all over.”
“Even in the va-jay-jay?” he croaked, barely audible.
“For as
long as you’d like,” she breathed.
McGlade shuddered. Then his eyes rolled up and he collapsed onto the floor, sprawling out onto his back.
Sata knelt next to him, feeling for a pulse in his neck.
“He okay?” I asked.
“He fainted. All the blood rushed from his head, to his penis.” Sata pointed at the considerable tent McGlade was pitching in his pants.
Alter-Vicki giggled. I pulled the door closed behind us, then helped Talon 2 carry McGlade to the nearest couch, almost entirely hidden in an overgrown hemp bush. On my earth, McGlade was a friend of sorts. Well, maybe friend was too strong a word. I’d known him a long time, and occasionally paid him to do favors for me, some for the Peace Department, some a bit more personal. Harry was okay in small doses, and about as trustworthy as a wolf in a chicken farm, but if anyone on this earth had access to illegal ordnance, it would be McGlade.
I gave him a brisk slap on the cheek.
“Harder,” he mumbled. “I like it rough.”
“Wake up, McGlade. We need weapons. It’s an emergency.”
His eyes fluttered open. “You’re a dude. What happened to the hot chick?”
“Later. You have to help us out.”
“I haven’t had sex in months.”
“Weapons, McGlade.”
He sat up. “I bought one of those robot sex dolls—a pleasurebot—but it runs on Windows 35. She won’t let me touch her. She just sits in my armchair all day, watching soap operas and ordering pizzas.”
He pointed. What looked like a naked female mannequin with big hair and comically large breasts was propped in a chair in front of a projector, surrounded by stacks and stacks of pizza boxes.
That explained the oregano smell.
“She can’t even eat!” McGlade whined. “There’s a disposable bag in her throat that’s supposed to be for me, but now it’s clogged with rotting pepperoni.” His eyes began to tear up. “That should be my pepperoni in there.”#emd Ralph.
ut the p
Talon 2 gave it a try. “Harry. Please. This earth is going to be destroyed. We need weapons.”
“She’s costing me a fortune. She tips the pizza delivery guy fifty duckets a pop. I think she also lets him nail her.”
“That’s too bad, McGlade,” Talon 2 said, “but we really need—”