“How’re you coming with the other
“About like you’re doing with thiss one,” Walter said. “Sship docking iss on another network. I can open and sshut the bayss, but I can’t control the loaderss to move the sship.” He stopped pacing and pointed his computer toward Parsona. “We’re wassting time.”
“It’s her
Walter bent over the pale, naked form. “Sshe lookss dead.”
“I don’t think I can do it,” Cole finally admitted.
Walter shoved the computer in its holster and knelt beside Cole. One of his hands rested on Cole’s shoulder, a gesture of support that filled Cole with hope for the boy. He was about to lay his own hand on the Palan’s, reciprocating the rare contact from him, when Walter reached down with his other hand, grabbed a fistful of wires trailing off Parsona’s torso, and yanked as hard as he could.
Cole reached for Walter’s hand in shock, trying to stop him, but the boy moved fast—grabbing and tugging as calmly as if he were pulling weeds. Parsona made sucking noises when the tubes popped free of her nose and mouth; her chin came up; she gasped for air.
Fluids leaked out and puddled on the slab of metal; bony limbs jerked against the restraints; ribs heaved. All indications that this thing was
Cole felt bile rise in his own throat, burning it. He swallowed it down and grabbed a hose, trying to remember where it went. He wanted to plug everything back in, to save her.
Parsona vibrated and gurgled.
Once again, he couldn’t act.
Red lights descended from the ceiling and began flashing up and down the hallway as Cole felt overcome with shame and horror.
“Let’ss
Cole fought to regain his balance, physically and emotionally—he needed to focus on Molly. And Walter was right: they needed to get out of there. He turned away from the open drawer and the dying woman, running back to the main hall. He caught up with Walter, who tugged him to a halt. A Stanley could be seen beyond the glass partition at the end of the corridor, talking to a human couple.
“Sservicse elevator,” Walter said, looking at his computer.
“That’s our way out? Which way?”
“No, that’ss what’ss heading thiss way. We need to go that way,” he said, pointing through the partition.
Cole looked down the hallway at the glass door. “Can you stop the service elevator? No point in what you— what
Walter nodded.
“While you’re at it, call a single elevator to this floor and send the rest down to the center of the moon.” Cole placed a hand on Walter’s elbow. “And walk while you’re doing it. We need to get close to that partition.”
Molly had her ear pressed to her mother’s collarbone, listening to the distant thrum of her mom’s voice as it resonated through her body. She spaced out again, not really hearing what her mom said, but rather marveling at how real her lap, their embrace, seemed.
And yet, the illusion remained incomplete.
It wasn’t her real mother she embraced, but a nostalgic recollection of her. This felt more like the comfort of a stranger, perhaps consoling a child for the loss of a parent.
Molly felt saddened by the irony of it all. A massive gulf had formed between she and her mom in such a short time. And while they were pressed close together—
And then the world went blank.
White light.
Everything was white light.
She had no eyes, and yet the searing brightness filled her vision. It was so intense, it made a sound, as if ocular neurons bled over to auditory ones. The result was something between a drone and a hiss. And her world smelled like an electrical fire, or rubber burning. Molly could taste it, but she had no mouth.
Her body floated, but not in some painful void—her body
She tried to scream or call out, but the agonizing hiss that filled her universe could not be modulated nor reduced. She was trapped in the center of a star, hot, white, burning, blinding, noisy.
And yet, her body was unwilling to melt away and end the torture.
It went on forever.
Unyielding.
28
Two elevator doors stood open on the other side of the glass partition. A Stanley, its back to Cole and Walter, faced the open doors, surveying the curious behavior from its less-evolved mechanical brethren. To one side, the human couple stood and conferred, going back and forth as if considering the purchase of a new spaceship.
“Now,” Cole whispered.
Walter swiped his passcard and the glass slid away. Cole pushed off the tiled floor like a sprinter. The sound of him coming made the Stanley turn around; its eyes locked onto the source of the squeaks just as Cole went airborne.
Slamming into the Stanley felt like tackling a refrigerator. Cole’s air rushed out of him as the Stanley flew backwards, skidding into the elevator he’d been peering into. Walter ran past, entering the other elevator door. Cole paused to regain his breath, but the Stanley had no such requirement. The android shoved off the floor of the elevator and rose with an unnatural power. Cole scrambled on all fours into the other elevator.
“Shut it!” he yelled, before his feet even crossed the threshold.
Walter swiped his stolen passcard and the doors began to move, the mechanical slabs closing with an agonizing slowness.
Nothing at all like the speed the Stanley used to dash between them just before they sealed tight.
“Hi,” Cole said. “We’ve lost our tour guide, perhaps you’ve—”
It happened so quickly, it felt like teleportation. One moment, Cole was kneeling in the center of the elevator, trying to smooth talk the android. The next, he found himself pinned against the rear video wall, his feet off the ground, metal vises around his neck. The Stanley had both hands around his throat; the android began squeezing the life out of him.
Cole kicked his legs in the air, looking for something to support himself on, but unforgiving metal formed walls on both sides. He twisted his head to look for Walter, saw the boy frozen by the elevator controls. Cole tried to mouth a plea, but all he could manage was a grimace.
Walter sneered back at him.
Time did not elapse in the buzzing, scorching, droning whiteness. It had gone on forever, or it had been a mere moment. There was no difference.
Then it stopped, replaced with the dentist chair scene once more. Molly found herself strapped down as someone hovered over her. She blinked him into focus. It wasn’t the dentist—it was a Stanley.
She worked her jaw, trying to ignore the residual hiss in her head as she regained her senses. She could barely hear herself ask if her three hours were up. The Stanley nodded. Something else swayed in her vision. A clear bag of fluids. The IV.
She looked past it and the Stanley to the metal panels above her.
