a library of games. And with them came feeling. Not pleasure, but not
numbness, either. Michael Ford AKA Vincent had found something
he cared about.
And then, there it was: Bug Man’s nanobots.
They were racing toward Vincent’s biots, their center wheels
down for speed. The exploding head logo that marked all of Bug
Man’s nanobots was seen in flashes.
The sight sent chills through Plath. She froze in place, pushing
the probe ever so gently to the left, to the right, back, center again. She saw the ripped off legs of Vincent’s biot spinning away in the
cerebrospinal fluid.
Worse, far worse, she felt Vincent’s fear.
“Unh!” she said.
“What?” Wilkes. Bored, but hearing the change in her voice. “Get Jin,” Plath said. “Get him now.”
The twitcher station on the Doll Ship was as complete and up-todate as the ones back at the Armstrong Building, and better than the one Bug Man had in Washington.
In addition, there was a portable model to be used as backup. The controls for the portable unit were less sophisticated, and the visual feedback in particular was less efficient.
Charles would get one, Benjamin the other. Charles knew Benjamin would end up with the better equipment—that was the problem in dealing with an irrational, emotional person: they could simply dig in their heels and outlast you.
Making a virtue of necessity, Charles said, “Take the more comfortable equipment, Benjamin.”
Benjamin did not demur.
They did not need Minako to be present in the room with them. In fact, Charles would have preferred she not be, but here again Benjamin had his way.
So Minako had been immobilized in a metal chair with handcuffs.
“Don’t hurt me,” she said in her charmingly accented English.
“We are not sadists,” Charles said, sounding wounded. “This is not some horror movie. We are going to help you.”
“Just let me go. Please. Please, I want to go back home.”
Charles was fitting the equipment to his head. It took two hands, which meant he and Benjamin had to cooperate, though Ling was there to help, and they’d been given the services of the crewman named KimKim.
“Fasten it around the back, KimKim, if you would, please,” Charles said. “Yes, it can go tighter.”
It was extremely uncomfortable, the two of them wearing the helmets—neither could go all the way on, obviously, so contacts were imperfect. The lighter portable model fit better, offsetting some of the advantage Benjamin had.
And why am I thinking in terms of advantage? Charles wondered. This isn’t a competition.
Of course they must look grotesque to both KimKim and the girl. As always, Ling remained silent.
“We are not going to hurt you, Minako; we are helping you,” Charles said. “You have lived your entire life alone, whether you recognized it or not …Yes, now get the first syringe, KimKim. We need to link to the nanobots. This is exciting, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Benjamin said curtly.