Hurricane Ignacia was definitely crossing over from the Caribbean and into the Eastern Pacific, to be renamed Olivia. Hurricane Newton, which was spinning out into the Pacific as we backed away from it toward the coast, had stopped and even reversed its trajectory.
My projections soon had the Fujiwhara effect taking hold, connecting the two storm systems with their center-pivot at just the wrong point, preventing Atopia from escaping into the open ocean between them.
As my splinters simultaneously discussed the merits of virtual economies with the reporters, defended myself from Kesselring, argued about the nature of happiness with Hal, and considered the hurricanes rushing toward us—I felt the nauseating sensation of vertigo.
My visual fields distorted, ballooning outward, and the hurricanes and reporters shredded into each other. Kesselring’s shocked face watched me blink out of his reality.
Abruptly, I collapsed into a deathly quiet, single-subjective point-of-view.
Exactly where, or why, I had no idea.
Marie, my proxxi, was standing over me, staring into my eyes. Everything was perfectly still. An impossibly long, incredibly thin rope stretched from the infinite blue void above to wrap itself tightly around my waist. I was suspended above a yawning black pit, set in the middle of an endless green field, all under a flawless sky.
Marie shook her head. “I’m afraid the news isn’t good.”
The rope tightened around my waist, choking off my lifeblood. I could feel the tigers charging across the sky toward me, their silent roars ringing in my deaf ears. Fascinated, I watched as nanobots busily ate away at the thin cord holding me suspended in space. Below me, in the blackness of the pit, an unseen monster grunted and slobbered.
This can’t last forever, I thought to myself as I drifted in and out of consciousness.
I can’t last forever.
15
Identity: Jimmy Scadden
“I heard that Kesselring put you in charge of Infinixx?”
“Only temporarily,” I noted. “Someone has to hold down the fort.”
Commander Strong winced. “How is Patricia doing?”
After the Infinixx mess, Patricia had suffered some kind of stroke. Not really a stroke—there was no physical brain damage—more of an overload of her pssi system. She was recovering under observation and isolated for the moment.
“She’ll be fine,” I replied after a pause. “I spoke to her this morning. She said she’ll be back in the office by tomorrow.”
We both returned our attention to the presentation.
“There is something very unnatural going on here,” explained our mandroid guest to the assembled Command team. She reached down with one slender metallic arm to adjust the jumpsuit hugging her metallic legs. “These storms are definitely being driven artificially.”
It was early Saturday morning, and we were in Command to review scenarios around the growing threat of the hurricanes that were pinning Atopia against the western coast of America.
“Do you think the Terra Novans are involved?” asked Commander Strong.
He smelled of alcohol. Things were going badly with his wife again.
“We’re not sure,” the mandroid responded.
“Do you know where this is coming from?” Strong demanded impatiently, rubbing the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.
The mandroid shrugged. “We can’t say for certain yet, but there’s something too perfect about these storms.”
“Jimmy, do you think you could look into this further?” The commander asked, looking away from the mandroid. “I need to go see Cindy.”
“No problem.” He was about to flit off when I remembered something. “Oh, wait. I have that date tonight, remember?”
Rick exhaled. “Susie, right? So that’s going well then?”
I shrugged. He looked like he had a terrible headache.
“I can cancel if you want.”
“No, no, keep the date,” he sighed. “You can’t let stuff like this stop you from living life. Anyway, I know you’ll keep a few splinters around if I need you. I’ll be back.”
With that, he flitted off, and I returned my focus to the storms and our mandroid guest. More than one thing wasn’t right here.