The Peripheral

49

This Pavel had cheekbones you could chop ice with, Flynne thought, but his voice was nice.

“Personality’s AI,” the Irishman said. “We’ll have that turned off before your man moves in.”

“I’m Flynne,” she said.

“Pleased to meet you,” said the peripheral, eyeing the Irishman like he had no fucks to give.

“Programmed to take the piss,” Ossian said. “Part of the sparring functionality. Makes you want to beat it out of them.”

The peripheral shifted its weight. It was well over six feet, taller than Burton, pale hair pushed to one side. It cocked a blond eyebrow at Flynne. “How may I be of service?”

“Go into the back cabin,” Ash said. “Lie down. Notify the factory that we won’t be needing the cloud.”

“Of course,” it said. It had to turn its shoulders a little, to clear shiny walls almost the color of its hair.

“I see why Anton kept murdering it,” Ossian said. “Mindless, but it’s always at you.”

Ash said something to him in one of their weird private languages.

“She says that that could be adjusted,” Ossian said to Flynne. “True, but Anton couldn’t be arsed. Not his way. I always hoped he’d do it sufficient damage that the factory couldn’t put it back together.”

“Macon has everything ready,” Ash said to Flynne. “I have him now. He’d like to speak with you.”

“Sure,” said Flynne. Ash’s badge appeared, then another beside it, yellow with an ugly red lump. Then Macon. “That a nubbin, Macon? Got your own future-folks badge already?”

“Yours is sorry-ass,” Macon said. “Just blank. Get her to fix it for you.” He grinned.

“Kinda busy,” she said.

“Things okay?”

“Not messed up the way I was the first time. Saw a little more of the place. He ready?”

“Too ready, you ask me.”

“Burton know?” she asked him.

“As it happens,” Macon said, doing a side eye.

“He’s there?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Shit.”

“It’s all good. Set to go.”

“Let’s do this thing.”

“Ready when you are,” he said. The nubbin badge dimmed.

“Ash and I go in,” Flynne said to Netherton and Ossian. “Not sure how he’s going to take this. Thing to remember is to cut him slack, okay? He gets excited, you better back off, fast.”

Netherton and Ossian looked at each other.

“Okay,” Flynne said to Ash, and walked into the corridor, three strides to the back room, where the peripheral lay on the bunk, ankles hanging off the end.

“Pavel,” Ash said to it, around Flynne’s shoulder, “close your eyes.”

It looked at Flynne, then closed its eyes.

“Fifteen,” said Ash, Flynne presumed to Macon.

Flynne counted down in her head. At ten, she imagined the wobble. Kept counting.

“Zero,” Ash said.

The peripheral’s eyes opened wide. “Christ on a corndog,” it said, raising large hands until it could see them. It wiggled the fingers of both, then each thumb touched each finger in turn, then back again to the index. Sat up like it was driven by a spring. Flowed to its feet.

“It’s me, Conner,” Flynne said.

“Know that. Macon showed me a screen-grab. You,” he said to Ash, “I saw something like you in a club in Atlanta. Boy there said it was a hyperspace elf, and technically an overdose.”

“This is Ash,” Flynne said, “be nice. Colors okay?”

“Colors? This better not just be a drug experience.”

“It’s not tetrachromatic,” said Ash, causing Conner to peer at her suspiciously.

“You feel okay?” Flynne asked.

He grinned wolfishly, scary on the former Pavel. “Goddamn. Look at all these fingers.”

“This way,” Flynne said, “but there’s two men out here. They’re with us. They’re okay. Okay?”

“Fuck yes,” said Conner, looking at his hands again. “Jesus.”

She took his hand, led him out. Ash was standing beside Ossian, Netherton behind them. “Conner Penske,” Flynne said to them, releasing his hand. “Conner was in the Marines with my brother.”

The three of them nodded, staring. The peripheral had a different way of standing now. Conner looked from one to the next, seemed to decide handshakes weren’t in order, and stuck his hands into the pockets of his gray pants. Looked around the cabin. “Boat? Dry dock?”

“Big fancy RV,” Flynne said.

He went to the window, bent, looked out. “My ass, out of here,” he said, probably not to them. Flynne was right behind him as he yanked open the door. He didn’t bother with the gangway. Did an acrobat’s flip, sideways, over the railing, and dropped, a good fifteen feet. Came up running, maybe faster than anyone she’d ever seen run, straight out across the garage, down the long line of what they’d said was Lev’s father’s car collection. As he ran, each long arch lit up with its glow stuff, so shallow they might almost have been beams, to fade again as he passed below, and she hadn’t imagined there were so many, or how big this place was. And as he ran he screamed, maybe how he hadn’t screamed when what had happened to him had torn so much of his body off, but between the screams he whooped hoarsely, she guessed out of some unbearable joy or relief, just to run that way, have fingers, and that was harder to hear than the screams.

Then one last arch faded when he ran beneath it, and there was only darkness, and the sounds he made.