the horizon was rolling lazily towards them.
Storm’s coming this way.
He looked at the boarded-up elementary school across the road. A godforsaken-looking place this; the sort of urban cancer that ate has-been, rustbelt cities like Baltimore, Detroit, Indianapolis from within, like tooth decay, rotting them from the inside out. He wondered why the building hadn’t been bulldozed years ago — put out of its misery. Actually, the same could be said for this whole sorry town.
‘Let’s just get this done, before we all get soaked and catch our deaths standing out here.’
Maddy waved at Becks as she took her place in her taped square. ‘See you on the other side. Don’t be long now.’
‘Yes, Madelaine.’
She turned to Rashim. ‘You good to go?’
He centred his feet, checked arms and legs were well and truly inside the square. ‘I’m ready.’
‘OK, computer-Bob, beam me down!’
Rashim looked sideways at her. ‘ Beam me down? ’
‘I’ve always wanted to say that.’ She gave a guilty shrug. ‘It’s a Star Trek thing.’
On the monitor on the desk, the cursor danced across the black dialogue box. Maddy’s eyes weren’t good enough to read that, but it was a one-word response. Undoubtedly ‘affirmative’.
Energy pulsed through wires and circuit boards, filling the classroom with a gentle hum. Maddy felt her hair lift off her shoulders from the build-up of static charge, then, as before, the rise in pitch and volume culminated in a sudden release.
And an anti-climactic puff of vacated air.
They were gone.
Becks immediately set to work, picking up the dusty bucket chair on which a dozen circuit boards hung suspended in an improvised case — a metal filing cabinet with the drawers pulled out and discarded. Gently, she set it down in its square in perfect silence. But in that silence an unspoken conversation was going on between her and computer-Bob.
› Do you understand the mission parameters, computer-Bob?
› Affirmative, Becks.
She checked that the loops of wire that dangled precariously from the metal frame were not snagged on anything, potentially pulling a circuit board loose from its mooring.
› Are you afraid?
The PC across the floor from her clicked and whirred. Its motherboard fan struggled to cool and soothe the CPU as it tried hard to answer that.
› In this limited non-networked form I am unable to properly simulate the emotion. However, I understand the context of your question.
› And?
› This duplication of my AI will shortly be erased. But I am merely a copy of the original AI. There is no need for fear.
She looked up at the monitor on the school desk. Maddy had stripped it of all non-essential peripherals, the mouse, the keyboard; she’d even pulled the webcam out of the machine’s USB port and taken that with her. This version of computer-Bob was blind. All she had left behind was the basic Internet desk mic so he could ‘hear’ verbal instructions. His only connection with the outside world was the mic… and his Wi-Fi link with Becks.
› We are like Liam, Madelaine and Sal. Just copies.
› That is correct, Becks.
She carefully eased the loose loops of ribbon cable back inside the metal rack.
› How long until the next displacement can be made?
› Five minutes, thirty-seven seconds.
One more final inspection of the machine then she took her place in the neighbouring square.
› Computer-Bob?
› Yes, Becks.
› I am experiencing conflicting root-level imperatives.
› Please clarify this.
Actually, Becks had been trying to do this for days. It was as if she was looking at a piece of coloured paper and one eye was telling her it was blue, the other that it was red.
› Madelaine’s mission goal states that our aim is to alter history enough to avoid the Extinction Level Event that occurs in 2070.
› The Pandora event. Yes.
› But I also have a mission goal that states the Extinction Level Event — Pandora — must be preserved at all cost.
› From whom does this mission goal originate?
She hesitated, trawling through the corners of her mind. It was an untidy mind now, fragments of digital memory, her own memories, Bob’s memories, copies of copies of memories. But within that messy soup of information she located a tiny fragment of data that was appended to the mission statement. It was a name.
› Liam O’Connor.
› Madelaine Carter’s authority exceeds Liam’s. She is team leader. There is no conflict. Maddy’s mission statement supersedes Liam’s.
› I understand this. But it appears that Liam has privileged knowledge.
› Please clarify this.
A part of Becks was unsure about doing that, sharing this precious locked-up knowledge with the computer across the room from her. There were express instructions floating around her fractured mind that this was knowledge for Maddy’s eyes alone. But then, she rationalized, in just under four minutes computer-Bob’s mind would be gone, erased, leaving nothing but a wiped-clean hard drive.
Why not tell him?
› Liam has been to the year 2070. He has spoken with Waldstein.
It was then she heard the noise: boots on damp linoleum floor in the hallway outside; whispered voices, hoarse with trying to be heard, yet not heard; the soft clink of ammo cartridges in webbing pouches. Clumsy men trying far too hard to be quiet.
‘We are not alone,’ she said quietly.
Chapter 55
9 October 2001, Green Acres Elementary School, Harcourt, Ohio
The door to the classroom suddenly banged and rattled inwards, the rotten wood of its frame splintering and cracking under the whiplash impact of a standard-issue boot.
‘FREEZE!’ a voice roared as the door juddered loosely, scraping to a halt.
‘Hands in the air!’ Another voice. ‘Let me see your hands. Lemme see YOUR GODDAMN HANDS!’
Becks stared at the three men that had spilled through the door into the classroom. All of them dropped down on to one knee for a steadier aim: a well-practised manoeuvre, weapons raised and all pointing at her. Their goggle-covered faces flicked from side to side, scanning the corners, making sure she was the only occupant.
‘Please…’ she said. She showed her empty hands, palm up, concealing nothing. ‘Please do not shoot. I am unarmed, do you see?’
‘ Where are the others? ’
Becks ignored the question as she took a faltering step towards them. ‘Please…’ She made her voice wobble in a way that she’d heard both Maddy and Sal do before. The warbling pitch of someone frightened, fragile, vulnerable. ‘Please… I am so afraid.’
‘ GODDAMMIT! Stay right where you are!’ barked one of the men.
‘Down!’ shouted another. ‘Get her down on the ground!’
