The top of the flower was growing larger as the stalk grew ever thinner; every VNM present seemed to be trying to climb to the center of the growing puffball, climbing over the bodies of those around it in order to achieve its aim. The stalk grew thinner and thinner, till the inevitable happened.
“Now!” breathed Fiona as the dandelion began to tilt ever so slightly to one side, and then, falling faster and faster, it smashed to the ground and burst apart in a spray of silver bodies. They began to scatter, running apart in a widening circle.
Eva flinched as they came towards her, a chittering tide of silver bodies. Ivan put a hand on her arm.
“Don’t worry, they won’t harm you.”
“They’d strip your cart apart without a moment’s hesitation, though.” Fiona laughed nervously. The silver creatures were skittering past her sandaled feet, and it was obvious that she herself was not quite convinced that they were safe. “Good job you moved it well back.”
Eva nodded and bent her knee slightly, lifting one foot off the ground a little. She could feel the whispery brush of delicate feelers against her ankles; she could hear the pitter-patter of feet on the tiny pieces of broken concrete, and she felt nauseated.
“Look,” said Fiona, “here’s Julian and Emily and Will. Let me introduce you.”
Eva and Ivan exchanged glances as the three strangers approached from the other side of the basement. They were all in their fifties, Eva guessed, about the same age as Fiona. She had met lots of their type in the RFS: well educated, with good jobs back in the surveillance world, with just enough character to see themselves as different from others but not enough to accept their similarities.
“Julian,” said Fiona, “I’d like to introduce you to Eva. She’s from England.”
A handsome man with greying temples held out his hand. “Whereabouts?” he asked with genuine interest.
“All over,” said Eva. “I lived the last thirty years in the North West Conurbation.”
“Ah yes.” Julian nodded. “The green needle. We took the kids up to see that when it first started growing. To think how far VNMs have progressed.”
“And this is Ivan,” continued Fiona. “He’s Russian.”
“Good to meet you, Ivan,” said Julian. “What do you think about this, then? Emily here thinks it’s a signaling device.”
“It’s not,” said Ivan. “It’s a Conway event.”
“Really? That’s interesting,” said Julian, and Eva flushed angrily to see how quickly he dismissed her friend. He waved a hand at the other two. “This is Emily, and this is Will.”
Two more people shook hands. The tide of silver machines that clittered past their ankles was thinning. Fiona could not abide a lull in the conversation. “And where do you live now, Eva?” she asked.
“What’s a Conway event, Ivan?” Eva asked deliberately.
Ivan wore a sulky look. “It is quite a common occurrence with these sort of devices,” he said, ignoring Julian and the others. “Sometimes the units get locked into a dynamic equilibrium—”
“Look!” interrupted Will. “That one’s wearing a jacket!” He pointed to one of the machines scuttling by. There was a flash of white on its back.
“Gosh,” said Emily, kneeling down and reaching out to catch hold of the machine. It snickered past her; she was too hesitant to get a proper grip on it. “Camouflage?”
“No,” said Ivan, “venumb.”
“You told me about those,” said Eva loudly. If Ivan wasn’t going to shine, she was damn well going to do the showing off for him. “Is that birch bark?”
“I think so,” said Ivan, picking up the little creature. “When metal is in short supply, these machines are programmed to adapt.”
Julian leaned closer. “Do you mind?” he said, taking the little machine from Ivan. He held it by the body, its legs waving as it sought purchase with anything available. “Yes, it is birch,” he said as if there had been some doubt. He shook his head. “Things are getting worse. They programmed these things to interfere with the natural environment…”
