“It’s a book. It’s about someone with a god complex.”
“And someone having actual godlike power offends your religious sensibilities. Of course. It’s cool when it happens in a book, but the moment someone actually walks on water, you freak the fuck out.” Javier kept walking. “I’m not doing this. In fact, I’m going home, and I’m going to tell Amy what you’re here to do. And then, your shit will be completely–”
“I’ll kill myself.”
Javier’s vision froze, then juddered. He turned. Pixels hovered at the edges of Pastor Powell’s body like a disintegrating halo. He had opened his shirt. Under it, strapped to his chest, was a variety of small bricks. They looked like feedstock. But they probably weren’t.
“It’s old-fashioned, but it’s still the best way to go,” Powell said.
Javier swallowed. Pixel dust floated away from Powell’s arms as he gestured. It spiralled away into the safe nowhere three feet away from Powell’s body. It looked like an old videogame: all lines and blocks. Like his visual receptors were frantically trying to render this moment into harmless fiction. Not real. Just pretend. Can’t hurt you.
He told his legs to jump away. He told them to pound up from the ground and take him into the breeze and the botflies. But his bones felt just as hollow as they really were, and he felt the smoke that made up his muscles wafting this way and that, twitching against the conflicting commands. It was as though someone else were inside him, taking over. This was how Amy had felt with Portia. He was sure of it.
Oh, God. Amy. He could tell her. He could jump. Jump, and run, right now, and tell her.
And she would kill Powell.
Vertigo ripped through him. He fell down. He wanted to claw his way into the black earth. Let it swallow him whole. Disappear forever.
“The timer is already set,” Powell said. “The moment I touched the wrapper with my bare hands, I signalled a satellite above us. In… forty-seven minutes, that satellite will broadcast a signal detonating these explosives, and I will die.”
Javier reached up. He lunged. Powell danced away, neatly, like a boxer.
“This wiring is very delicate, Javier. If you touch it, you have no idea what will happen.”
Christ. Shit, Christ, shit, fuck.
“I’m going to send my botfly with you, to monitor your progress. If you destroy it, I’ll trigger the vest. If you tell Amy what we're doing, I'll trigger the vest.”
Powell circled a finger in the air, and the machine peeped out from beneath his priestly collar and entered the air. It latched onto Javier and dug down beneath his shirt.
“Now, you can refuse me, and I can sit this out, and die. There's extra explosive up here," he sketched a necklace with one finger, "and it'll blow my head clean off. At least, it's supposed to. You and I both know how unreliable technology can be.”
Javier watched Powell’s eyes. They were perfectly calm. He was winning, and he knew it.
“I’ll suck your dick.” The words rolled off his tongue like they’d always been there. And in a way, they always had been. Powell wanted it. Javier knew that Powell wanted it. Everything else was just programming.
Powell rested a hand on his head, like he was petting a dog. His smile was bemused. “Son, you’d do that anyway, if I asked you to.”
His hand cupped Javier’s jaw. His hand was absurdly warm. Javier could feel the pulse of blood in it. Quick. Wanting. Powell's thumb pushed inside his mouth. Javier tasted nervous sweat. And just like that, the process inside him started to spin. Javier sucked helplessly at Powell's thumb. He knew exactly what to do to make this all better. He could interrupt this whole thing. Slow this down. He could do that with just his lips and his tongue. He knew how to do that. Had done just that very thing, in the past. In prison. It was just like riding a bike. You never really forgot.
His fingers made short work of Powell’s fly.