vN The First Machine Dynasty(46)

"You didn't have to do that," she said. "I was going to go with you."



Harold looked like he was going to be sick. "Well, what are you going to do, now?"



Kill him. Wring his sweaty little neck until his tongue swells and his eyes pop.



Amy's hands trembled. Portia was in there, waiting, digging at her like a dog at a back fence. It would be easy. So easy. She didn't even have to hurt him very much – just enough so that he couldn't do anything while she picked up Javier and Junior and ran away with them. Rescued them. Maybe just break his foot. He'd recover. She took hold of both his hands at the wrist. They were so light, like a child's. His lips pulled back. Breath wheezed past his shaking lips. Standing this close she could see that he'd printed his missing teeth from poor, threadbare stock.



"I'm really sorry," Amy said.



"Please," Harold said.



Amy squeezed his wrists. His hands fluttered uselessly and she felt the tendons working inside them, old and worn and frayed like cheap shoelaces. She raised her foot. Harold closed his eyes. She brought her foot down. He howled. She hoped it was more from fear than pain, but had no chance to learn one way or the other – a pair of titanium arms had circled her from behind, and pulled her back.



"I'm not worth it," Javier said. "I promise you I'm not worth it."



• • • •

When the kitchen staff – multiple generations of the same intensely pretty Asian male model – helped Harold open the massive doors to the back of the Isaac's Electronics truck, an army of Amy leaned forward to stare. They were clean or dirty, their skin clear or studded with plastic, their hair short or long, or in complicated buns or twists, or cute layers now pushed up on one side. But all of them wore the green jumpsuit. And all of them kept a careful distance from the fencing of their cages. All of them wore her face.



This was all her fault. If she hadn't run up on stage to fight Portia, if she hadn't eaten her and then let her take over in the trailer and the garbage dump, if she hadn't been weak, these vN wouldn't be imprisoned. Some of them were still little girls. The jumpsuits puffed emptily around their thin ribs; they'd rolled up the sleeves and legs into fat coils. Amy could hardly remember being that small.



For the first time, Portia allowed herself to sound somewhat grandmotherly: It's not your fault these cripples couldn't run away.



In the centre of a narrow aisle between the two rows of cages sat another cage, like the one Amy had seen in the other truck. This time, a human sat inside. He wore an orange jumpsuit. His hair was dark and stringy, and he let its length cover his eyes when he looked away from her.



"Just cause I'm hurt don't mean I don't got my eye on you, Jericho," Harold said, tiredly. "I see you eyeballin' me. Sicko."



Amy wanted to ask about Jericho, but Harold had filled her mouth with a liquid-to-gel gag impregnated with peroxidase beads. If she tried to chew through it or consume it, the beads would burst and release corrosive acid. The same gel also bound her hands and feet. Two members of the kitchen staff had held her still while Harold primed the special gun that shot the stuff. The third held Javier, who only stopped struggling when Harold told him he'd be next otherwise.



Now they sat in cages separated by electrified mesh. But this time, they wouldn't be the ones shocked if they touched it. "That's Jericho's job," Harold informed them. "He's burning out his sentence double-time, sitting in the hot seat."



"Please don't hurt him," one of the other vN said.



"He's a multiple rapist." Harold kicked Amy's cage with the toe of his injured foot, and inside his cage, Jericho shrieked. The other vN shrieked with him. Javier covered his eyes. Amy could only watch, muted, as they cowered in their kennels.



The failsafe is a joke. If it actually worked, even these poor gimps would be tearing men like that limb from limb.



"These machines have forgiven me," Jericho said, between wet, spluttering coughs. "They're better Christians than any of you assholes."



Harold said, "My cup runneth over."



Harold finished locking Amy's cage and hobbled inside Javier's. Roughly, he took Javier's splayed hands away from his eyes and grabbed Junior. Amy did her best to stand up on her knees. Behind her gag, she tried to curse. Javier blinked at her, then looked up at Harold. The human tucked the baby under one arm like a football, and met Javier's bewildered stare with the same sad smile he'd worn in the bar.



"We've got a special spot in the cab up front for the bluescreens." Harold slid the cage door shut. He started locking it. Javier looked down at his empty hands. His mouth opened. Nothing came. "It's sort of like an incubator," Harold added.