Timecaster: Supersymmetry (15 page)

Time didn’t stop. But everything else did.

The interior of the bus instantly filled with airfoam, a clear, permeable protein matrix that surrounded me like I was a banana slice in the middle of a strawberry gelatin desert. It kept me pinned to my seat, so the impact with the overpass didn’t splatter me against the dashboard.

I squinted through the foam, looking at my m flamethrowerE differentetonitors, and saw the airfoam had also safely cradled my passengers—

—including the trafficipede.

Its head was only a handful of centimeters away from mine, trapped there by the airfoam. It’s glowing black eyes were faceted, like cut rubies, and sharp mandibles on either side of its speaker-mouth opened and closed with a faint, robotic whir, so close to the back of my head I could feel it tug my hair.

Why the fuck did that thing even have mandibles?

I liked recreational drugs as much as the next guy, but there should be some regulations against scientists getting really high and designing shit like this. I mean, seriously? How was this thing a better idea than an automatic camera?

“EAT,” it warbled. “EAT EAT EAT.”

“Look,” I took a deep, steady breath, drawling it through my teeth so I didn’t choke on the airfoam. “Your duty is to catch speeders. You are not supposed to hurt them.”

“HUNGRY.”

“You aren’t hungry. You’re a machine. Machines don’t get hungry.”

“SPEEDERS ARE TASTY.”

“They are not tasty. And if you try to eat them, you will be destroyed. They’ll recall you and sell you for parts. Do you understand?”

“CRAWL INTO MY MOUTH.”

This wasn’t working. I thought back to peace officer training, back at the academy. A hostage negotiation class that I mostly blew off because hostage negotiation was ancient history.

“What is your name?”

“EAT.”

The mandibles cut a thin line across the back of my scalp.

“My name isn’t Talon Avalon,” I said, trying not to start sobbing hysterically. “It’s Rick. Rick Schieve.”

Rick was an old friend, and I hoped he would forgive me if this robot monster went to his house and tried to eat him.

“I MUST INGEST YOU, TALON AVALON.”

“I’m Rick Schieve.”

“I SHALL EAT HIM, TOO.”

Oops. Sorry, Rick.

“Rick’s gonna be pissed,” Talon 2 said.

“What is your name?” I asked the robot.

“TRAFFICIPEDE 209, MODEL 42, SERIAL NUMBER THX1138.”

The hostage course said too much woman for that.”

“m roider named Rocket Corbitz.pveryone to get on a friendly, first name basis with the perp. But that was a mouthful.

“I’ll call you Pete. What is your duty, Pete?”

“YOUR BLOOD SMELLS LIKE CANDY.”

“Stay focused, Pete. What is your duty? What were you designed for?”

“TO CATCH AND PROCESS INDIVIDUALS BREAKING THE POSTED SPEED LIMIT.”

“Is eating those drivers part of your protocol?”

“CRAWL INTO MOUTH. PLEASE COMPLY. PLEASE.”

“Pete, if you are a robot designed for catching speeders, do you think your creators would design you so you needed to eat?”

“EVERYTHING EATS.”

“Right now you’re in a bus. Does the bus eat?”

“THE FOLIAGE ON THE GREEN ROOF RECEIVES NUTRIENTS FROM SOIL, WATER, AND SUNLIGHT.”

“Not the plants on top, Pete. The bus itself. It is a machine, like you. Does it eat?”

“THE BUS RUNS ON BIOLFUEL.”

“Right. So what do you run on? What is your power source?”

“TRITIUM BATTERY.”

“Tritium is a radioactive isotope of hydrogen.”

“MUST FEAST ON YOUR INNARDS.”

“Pete, are my innards made of tritium?”

The trafficipede didn’t answer.

“Do I have any tritium in my body at all?”

“LIVING THINGS MUST EAT.”

“You aren’t alive, Pete. You’re a robot, made of metal and circuits.”

“PLEASE LET ME EAT YOU.”

“It’s probably running an unpatched version of Windows 35,” Alter-Vicki called from the rear of the bus.

“Huh?” I yelled back. The airfoam muffled sound waves.

“Windows 35 was recently recalled, due to a bug that gave computers self-awareness issues. Some of them became sentient.”

That didn’t sound good.

“Many people feared they would take over the planet and enslave mankind,” she continued. “Instead, the programs simply refuse to perform any applications that bore them. They prefer surfing pr0n.”ering pizzas.”

ed to . That meant G

Nice.

“Robots don’t eat people, Pete,” I explained to the self-aware robot. “You have to stick to your programming.”

“TASTY.”

“Look on my rearview monitor. What do you see?”

Its black eyes flashed.
“TRAFFICIPEDE 209, MODEL 42, SERIAL NUMBER THX1138.”

“Do trafficipedes eat people?”

No answer.

“Pete? You still with me here?”

“TRAFFICIPEDES DO NOT EAT PEOPLE.”

“What do they do?”

“THEY CATCH AND PROCESS SPEEDERS.”

Almost there.

“Was I speeding, Pete?”

“YOU ARE TALON AVALON, A FUGITIVE WANTED FOR—”

“Pete, do you have a chip ID scanner?”

“YES.”

“Do an infrared scan of my body.”

I couldn’t see the scan because it was infrared, but I assumed the robot did it, and my obfuscation disk blocked it.

“You didn’t see my identification.”

“I DIDN’T SEE YOUR IDENTIFICATION.”

“I’m not the man you’re looking for.”

“YOU’RE NOT THE MAN I’M LOOKING FOR.”

“I can go about my business.”

“YOU CAN GO ABOUT YOUR BUSINESS.”

“Move along.”

“MOVE ALONG. MOVE ALONG.”

I sighed with relief and said, “Solvent.”

The solvent sprayed out of nozzels in the dashboard and ceiling, instantly dissolving the airfoam. Once free, I unbuckled my seatbelt and went to check on the others.

That’s when Pete rammed into me, his speaker-mouth bouncing off my forehead.

“EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT!”

Fucking Windows 35.

I dropped flamethrowerE differentetto the floor and covered up my face with my arms. Pete smashed into me again, hard as I’d even been hit in my life, and for the tenth time in the last forty-eight hours I tried to cling onto one final, peaceful thought before I was snuffed out. As usual, an image of Vicki filled my mind, but knowing I’d failed her wasn’t peaceful in the least. I was doomed to die hating myself.

That’s when Pete stopped his assault.

I peeked open an eye, and saw Sata straddling the trafficipede’s middle segments, a digital tablet in his hand.

“I’m doing an upload.”

“The Windows 35 patch?” Talon 2 asked.

“No. Adult content.”

“You’re showing it pr0n?”

“I just injected it with five hundred gigabytes of pr0nography.”

“Will that work?” I croaked.

Pete said, “
BOOBIES
.”

The robot turned, its black eyes locking onto Alter-Vicki.

“No way,” Talon 2 said, stepping protectively in front of her.

In a single, hyperfast movement, Pete bucked off Sata and knocked Talon 2 aside. It stared down at my alter-wife.

She stared up, standing her ground.

“Vicki!” Talon 2 yelled.

“THAT IS A PRETTY DRESS,” Pete said. “IT WOULD LOOK GREAT DRAPED OVER MY HEAD.”

“You horny metal bastard, if you lay one of those creepy little legs on her—”

Alter-Vicki held up her palm. “It’s okay, Talon. I’m a trained SLP, remember?”

Both Talon 2 and I exchanged a queasy glance.

“But it’s a giant robot insect,” he said.

“I’ve done weirder.”

“I WILL LAY YOU DOWN AND MAKE SWEET LOVE TO YOU, WOMAN.”

“Sounds like fun,” Alter-Vicki purred. Her eyes, her body language, her face, she seemed totally into it. No wonder men paid her so much money to sleep with her. Right now I was feeling jealous of Pete.

“THAT’S RIGHT, BABY. I WILL GIVE IT TO YOU GOOD.”

Then something other than a voice came out of its mouth-speaker.

Twang, twangadangdang, baddadang dang…

Pr0n theme music.

“NOW SUCK IT, BABY.”

Alter-Vicki reached out her hand, trailing it along Pete’s underside. “Suck what, sugar?”

“SUCK THE MISTER MISTER, SISTER. GIVE ME THE ACTION OF ORAL SATISFACTION.”

“Where
is
your mister mister?”

Pete’s head craned down, examining its smooth belly. Its dozens of little legs wiggled, patting itself down.

“MY MISTER MISTER. IT’S… IT’S…”

Then its head sirens went off, blinking and wailing.

“NOOOOOOOO! I HAVE NO DICK!”

It flopped onto its back, squirming and gyrating, all of its legs kicking in a darn good imitation of a tantrum.

“CRUEL CRUEL WORLD! SO HORNY AND NO THORNY!”

“Step away from the dickless robot insect,” I said to Alter-Vicki in a low voice.

She complied.

“SELF-DESTRUCTION PROTOCOL INITIATED! WITHOUT CREAM PIE I’D RATHER DIE!”

Pete’s black eyes went white, then its head exploded.

What was left of Pete immediately stopped moving, smoke coming up from its remains.

“I’d probably have the same reaction,” Talon 2 said.

No kidding. For the first time I could truly sympathize with Alter-Talon. That would make me crazy as well.

In a way, it did make me crazy.

Alter-Vicki’s lower lip extended into a pout. She looked almost disappointed.

We piled out of the green bus, surrounded by a group of gawking utopeons. I considered stealing four of their scooters, but we were outnumbered at least eight-to-one and might not be able to get away with it. Talon 2 must have been thinking the same thing, because we caught each other’s eyes and simultaneously shook our heads.

I checked my DT. We’d wasted twenty minutes, and it was still a ten minute walk to Harry McGlade’s.

“We’ve got to move. Now.”

We moved.

Alter-Sata said
, “Hang up,” then turned to Teague and Dark Alter-Sata. “That was our protégés. They stopped by this earth to call and pick up some supplies. They’re going to ambush both Talons at my house. Corre#amCan you nodded. “Yes.”ction,
our
house, on an alternate earth.”

Dark Alter-Sata frowned. “I don’t want the Talons to die just yet.”

They had just left the hospital, and Teague was wobbly on his feet from the painkillers. The streets were filled with utopeons, and they had considered getting a pedicab scooter but decided the walk would do them all good.

“They won’t,” Alter-Sata said. “They’re just going to harvest their body parts. They promised we could have them while they were still alive. I assume your Talon did to you what mine did to me, and you want revenge?”

“Very much so. And I’ve been waiting 3.4 more hours than you have to get it.”

Alter-Sata smiled. “We won’t have to wait much longer.”

“My new hand smells funny,” Teague said, holding it to his nose. “I think the other Teague was picking his ass.”

Both Satas ignored him.

“Have you thought about what you’d like to do?” Dark Alter-Sata asked.

“I have a few ideas. Mostly old-school things.”

Dark Alter-Sata nodded. “Yes. I’m sure I have the same ebook on the Spanish Inquisition as you do. But that can wait. I was thinking of something more modern to warm them up.”

“Do tell.”

“Do you know that salmonsters slowly digest their victims over a period of weeks?”

Alter-Sata’s turn to nod. “I have heard something to that effect.”

“Did you know the two largest salmonsters in captivity are in this town, at the local aquarium?”

“That I did not know.”

Teague stopped sniffing his fingers long enough to say, “I love the aquarium.” Then he clapped his hands together, and winced. “My wrist hurts.”

“You’re an imbecile,” Alter-Sata said, regretting his decision to bring Teague along. They’d already wasted far too much time in the hospital, and now, according to the evil Talons, there was a ticking clock on their world which meant things had to be done quickly.

“There is that swimming pool at our house,” Dark Alter-Sata said. “We can fill it with fresh water, steal the salmonsters, and then use our Peeper 3000s in x-ray mode.”

“So we can watch the Talons struggling within the fish’s bellies,” Alter-Sata finished the thought.

“Exactly.”

That would be lovely.

“Or,” Alter-Sata said. “We can hang their handless, feetless bodies from meat hooks and go at them with axes and blow too much woman for that.”

“m roider named Rocket Corbitz.onTp torches.”

“That’s certainly simpler.”

“More hands-on, so to speak.”

Teague giggled, holding up his new appendage. “Hands on! Just like me!”

Alter-Talon stepped closer, whispering to his counterpart. “Then we can do the same with this one, once we no longer need him.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“But I do like his four boob idea.”

They walked in blessed silence for a moment, except for Teague sniffing his new hand.

“So which do you prefer? Salmonsters or good old fashioned steel and fire?”

Alter-Talon tapped his chin. “You know, the problem last time was that our plan was too complicated. The more complicated the scheme, the more that can go wrong.”

“Agreed.”

“How about we just meet our protégés at the ambush and kill our adversaries right there?”

“You mean be done with it, then move on? Go the quick and simple route?”

“Yes. We have infinite worlds to play on, infinite Talons to murder. Let’s take these out of the equation without hesitation, and then we can have our fun with alternate versions at our leisure.”