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A number of Category-Three communications have been intercepted, predicting extensive restriction activity at this location in the near future. If she was really under such close scrutiny, surely she'd have been capturedor worseby now. "Everyone close to me has died recently." "Have you been exposed to changes in ambient pressure within the past two months? Then: "People can not survive direct ascent from such depths without undergoing decompression. " She stared at him for a moment in the fading light. You know what I'm risking sending this to you nowit'll autowipe, but there's nothing these assholes can't scan if they feel like it. But I do have some answers for you if you'll just hear me out, okay? "I heard what you said about trust and betrayal, and maybe some of it rings a bit more true than I'd like. Hell, look at a dog catching a ballthat's ballistic math, my man. And you stand there and tell me you're autonomous just because you can follow a decision tree with a few dozen variables? But maybe a decent, honest human being is his own safeguard, did you ever think of that? He calmly dismembers each and every piece of equipment remaining in the room, cutting fiberop, pouring acid into computational organics, smashing crystals with a pneumatic hammer. Sou Hon is asleep at last, curled into a fetal ball.

Widespread dissemination of decoys has not dissipated this threat. The botflies that passed over the street weren't all watching from the corners of their eyes. "Did your visual environment change substantially between eight and sixteen weeks ago? Maybe." "Does your family have a history of strokes or embolisms? For example, have you spent time in an orbital facility, an unpressurized aircraft, or been free-diving below a depth of twenty meters? Diving." "While diving, did you undergo decompression protocols? What was your maximum dive depth, and how long did you spend there? "I didn't breathe during the dive, everything was elect" Wait a minute No decompression, she'd said. Let the surface-skimming tourists breathe from their clunky tanks, risking narcosis or the bends whenever they ventured too far from the surface. "Lubinthis guy did something to me, andif the bloodhounds" She took his hand, firmly. He lied about Rowan, after all." "Not about this, Alice. He had his hand around my throat and I just sang, I told him stuff the Trip would never've let out." "That's not what I mean. I just don't believe that Lubin had anything to do with it." "What? Ramming Spartacus Brand Home-Cooked Autonomy down my throat whether I like it or not. That's part of the problem, that's why I'm taking this huge risk in the first place. But don't you see there was no point in asking you beforehand? The world's full of dumb animals who act as though they're juggling third-order differentials in their heads and it's all just instinct, man. Maybe you don't have to let them turn you into one big conditioned reflex. Even if she leaves us alone, how many others might want their piece of retribution? He cocoons her from behind, wrapping her flesh in his, and stares off into darkness while the real world falls asleep around him.

In contrast, the visoroff-the-shelf and completely legalwas hamstrung by all the usual curfews and access restrictions. The only other way to find out about a late-breaking quarantine or a nest of tornadoes was to run into it. Hints of outlines, of faces, of She squeezed her eyes tight in sheer frustration. " "I'm wearing eyecaps." "Corneal overlays will not interfere with the scan. " "The lesions lie along pathways connecting the limbic system and the neocortex." "What are those pathways used for? They have been interrupted by the surgical" "What would they be used for if they were active? " "No." "Could the equipment for such a procedure be housed within, say, an NMR helmet? Maybe someone had programmed Beebe's scanner to lie. She'd never explore Mars or write a symphony or even build an animal, at least not from scratch. You know that isn't true." She put her hand on Desjardins's shoulder. "That's also why you're so fond of cats, by the way. Sault Sainte Marie crouched at the eastern corner of Lake Superior. Sounds too much like pseudomystical wish-fulfillment to me. Her past is irrelevant, her future's nonexistent, her present is hell on earth. "But they say we're itsnatural environment, somehow. Maybe, if we can make it realize that, it'll protect us." Only if it's smarter than we were. (In hindsight, I think that was a wise decision.) I also got diverse technical assistance from other folks with postgraduate degrees like mine, the difference being that theirs were in subjects that actually proved to be good for something. Denis Lynn, of the University of Guelph, provided not answers but questions, and lines of enquiry for me to pursue.

They have operational definitions but no comprehension; checksums, but no insight. They travel the world in search of references to Lenie Clarke. There is the chaff the generals and their associates throw to the winds themselves, decoys to distract the competition. It doesn't make any sense; how could any fire could burn so brightly, for so long?

There are third-party references, strings containing Lenie Clarke that come into Maelstrom from outside; mail, transaction records, even source which appears to arise from Lenie Clarke itself. "To make sure the old dangerous infection doesn't get out into the world again? Surely the flames have consumed everything by now, reduced all combustibles to ash and everything else to slag.

Sometimes Vive wondered if her parents even really knew what a species was any more. She'd kick-started the Big One out of sheer impatience, tired of waiting for some long-overdue apocalypse that had always threatened and never delivered. " one of them asked, blinking rapidly over fake eyecaps. "And this" Something indefinable passed through the room. "I didn't think she was real." Lenie Clarke tilted her chin in a half-nod. The burnings and the Big One and you going around raping corpses" "Probably not." "But" "I don't really have time to compare notes," Clarke said. The first friendly looked around at the assembled huddlers. The last thing we need is a whole procession banging around in the crawlspace, right? You've got to have faith, there's a purpose behind all of this. She didn't know how long she sat there, in her own personal void. Some other readout flashed off at the edge of vision, a rhythmic little scratch on her retina. "You seem awfully certain, considering that whole mercury thing," Burton remarked. " "I want the dolphins set down right about there," Lubin said, pinpointing a spot on the tabletop. They'd assured him that he couldn't be held responsible. Of course, you don't inject Rwanda­ into a man's cells without expecting some increase in the usual alpha-male head-butting responses, but dispassion was a trait even more valued than ruthlessness; both of them had been tweaked for enhanced self-control even more than for the euphemistic necessary steps. Conscience isirrational, when you get right down to it." "You are so full of shit." "Sociopathy doesn't make you a killer. Lenie Clarke sat with her back propped against the far wall; Lubin's silhouette swallowed her whole. "I know." He leaned his back against the wall, slid down at her side. "There's only one place that was ever home." Three thousand meters below the surface of the Pacific. "She came up with some interesting shipping news, and it raises the question: what's home? They could have stayed, and watched it happen to everyone else, and synthesized their food from raw elements once the biosphere itself was lost. All of Atlantis knew that, even if nobody talked about it. We should talk about that some time." Rowan kept her voice level. I have, however, tried to make this bug reasonably plausible, given the dramatic constraint of a global apocalypse in a crunchy coating.

In fact, that was the whole problem: rather than clean the shit out of the world, people just turned themselves into coprovores. Better to tear everything down and just start over. That's why Aviva Lu was here now, waiting for Lenie Clarke to show up. * * * Actually, Aviva Lu wasn't exactly sure what Lenie Clarke was. She'd single-handedly broken open the Strip, led a refugee revolt whose existence N'Am Pac still wouldn't admit to. It was jam-packed with rifter wannabes and trapped pedestrians desperate to wait out the party. Fifteen minutes, and you can make all the noise you want. "I'm supposed to meet up with Jen and Linse over by the fountain." "Suit yourself. "I can manage." * * * Aviva Lu was a veteran of civil unrest. Please, just" The crunch of plastic, ground underfoot. The effort required to focus on it seemed almost superhuman. That was the thing about heavy metals; they affected the brain. Lubin shrugged off the challenger and concentrated on the challenge. Still not enough to catch Clarke until she made her move. It just means you aren't restrained from being one if the situation calls for it. I'm right, you know there's at least a chance I'm right." "What I know is that the most I can hope for is to be out of a job right up until the world ends. I could kill her in an instant, he thought, and marveled at how absurd the thought seemed. A beautiful dark universe filled with monsters and wonders that didn't even exist any more. That option hadn't received a whole lot of discussion, though. They'd seen the mobs from their penthouses, seen civil unrest graphed against time on exponential curves. As a result, ehemoth is like one of those "composite serial killers" you read about in True-Crime booksbits and pieces of various real-world bugs, thrown together with lots of dramatic license.

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They were in a hospital now, Clarke could tell: she, and her mother, and Of course. dear old Dad, also masked; on him, it seemed to fit. She'd lost count of the times such images had raped her in the past months, how often she'd looked for some hint of the living hell she'd called childhood. Andrew Simon's charge against Hydro-Q hadn't added one rotting day to his lifespan. You haven't been out of this building for almost forty hours. Jesus Christ, I" I may be a slave, but I'm not a robot. I can kill a half-million people before lunchtime; you don't think it's a good idea to have safeguards in place? Also it takes longer to break down than regular guilt, so it reaches higher concentrations in the brain. You mean tooyou're too much of a friend for me to fuck around like that. I've stuck my neck out for you, and what happens now is pretty much up to you. Lenie Clarke was a rifter; the lakes were still deep, and dark, and long. Any amphibian trying to elude capture would be crazy not to take a dip. We took millions in collateral damage, do you understand? I'm not even a vector any more." "What, don't you want your revenge? Don't you want to drag us back to the surface kicking and screaming to face the music? Then you and your cronies came along and turned me into something that changed the world." She smiled again, a faint cold whisper of amusement. He also kept me from slipping into steroid psychosis during a massive poison-ivy infection while I was writing this book. Alison Sinclair and Fran Terry offered insights, suggestions, and/or overheads on matters microbial.