“Tranquilo.” Javier rubbed his son’s legs. “No te procupes; esta bien.”
“Mom,” his son said, and sat bolt upright and pressed himself into Amy’s arms. Over his head, Amy sent Javier a surprised glance, and started rocking the boy.
“It’s OK,” she said, quietly. “It’s OK. They’re sleeping–”
“I thought it had happened again,” Xavier said. “I thought I was bluescreened.”
For a brief moment, Amy looked as though she were capable of experiencing true physical pain. Her mouth opened, then closed. She set her chin on Xavier’s head. She kept rocking him.
“You didn’t bluescreen again. That was me.” She pulled away from him and held his face. “I put you to sleep for a minute. I put everyone to sleep for a minute, so the fighting would stop.”
Xavier blinked. “You can do that?”
Amy nodded. “I can do that.”
Xavier’s eyebrows lifted. “Cool.” He hugged her again. “Are you OK? Did they hurt you?”
“Not a scratch,” Amy said.
“See?” Xavier asked. “Badass.”
She laughed, gave him one more squeeze, and stood up. Xavier took her hand, and she helped him up. Then, finally, the boy looked up at Javier.
“You OK, Dad?”
“Who, me? Sure. I’m fine.” He stretched his arms high, laced his fingers, and folded them behind his head. You were only ever given so many opportunities to look devastatingly awesome in front of your kids. “I totally wasted one of those assholes, actually. Shot him right in the back.”
Xavier jumped three feet. “Can I see?”
“Claro.”
He steered his son toward the body. It was mostly melted, now. The body was sinking in around the hole the bullet made. They watched it expand for a minute, crater-like. Around them, the others were waking up. Javier rested his hand on his youngest’s shoulder, and turned to look at Amy. She was inspecting each of his children. Her face was blank, clinical. Once upon a time, her model was intended for nursing. Watching her moving so quickly and efficiently, that little detail became easier to remember. He wondered how exactly he’d awakened so much earlier than the others. Maybe she knew exactly what she was doing. Maybe she’d even done it, before. How would he know? It felt like being asleep.
The bicho thrashed, sending a mighty splash of water over them. Javier wiped his face and tugged his youngest away.
“Who are they?” Xavier asked.
“I tried to ask, but he punched me in the gut.”
Xavier sucked his teeth and nodded. For a moment, Javier realized what he must have looked like, at that age. What his own father must have looked like. Papá had sucked his teeth that way, too.
Behind them, the melting body started to scream.
“I’m still in!” His arms flailed. His fingers clawed the sand. He was smoking hard, now, his face a tragedy mask dimly visible through a veil of sparkling black. “I’m still here! Get me out! Get me out!”
“Holy shit,” Javier heard Ignacio say.
“Oh, my God,” Matteo said.
“It’s a puppet.” Gabriel stepped forward, head tilted. “It’s a real live puppet.”
“I don’t know!” the puppet howled. “Restart from step three!”
“Dad…” Xavier found Javier’s hand and held it hard. “Dad, what is that?”
“It’s an urban legend, is what it is.” Gabriel strode closer to the melting body. “Puppet vN. Early prototypes, meant for telepresence.”
“Get away from me!” The puppet tried pushing itself across the black sand. It smeared a little, but went nowhere.
“Are you jacked in?” Gabriel squatted outside the cloud of smoke. “Do you have plumbing in your skull? Because that could be the problem. I heard that can get infected. Literally and figuratively. Organic viruses are just as big an issue, and of course there’s necrotizing–”
“There’s a human in there? Really?” Ignacio joined his brother. They tilted their heads at the exact same angle.
“He’s piloting it remotely,” Gabriel said. “The vN is a drone. The chimp just flies it.”
“Don’t leave me stuck like this,” the puppet whimpered. “Turn it off, turn it off, turn it off!”
Javier glanced around at the dark beach. None of the other puppets remained. He jumped a little. From the higher vantage point, he saw the gentle quicksand ripples where their bodies once were. Now the beach was empty save for his sons, the bicho, and decaying puppet. Amy stared at it. Her fingers twitched rapidly at her sides.
“What did you do with them?” Javier asked. She didn’t answer. He leapt to her side and turned her around by her shoulders. “Amy. Where are they?”
She blinked. “They’re being archived.” Her eyebrows rose. “Gabriel is right. They’re puppets. They don’t have the same neural net that we do. It’s close, but it’s simpler. There’s nothing in there.”
Ignacio stood. “You’re digesting them?”