“Okay, I concede. Vote.”
It appeared I would be rattling some bushes.
32. Losing on Purpose
Bob
July 2334
Three Lagoons
Bushes, rattling of, process four. I had to admit, it wasn't really in my wheelhouse. We did have one simple tactic, based on previous experience: go out in public together. But without a full Midpoint station, that was out.
Or was it?
We only had to go along enough to make the association. The AMI controllers could handle an instruction like ‘follow Bob’. If there was a woodcutting of our images out there, it should trigger something.
I sat in our surprisingly spacious hotel room, silently exchanging looks with the other three Mannies. The AMIs weren’t geniuses, but they can handle simple directives, as long as they didn't have to talk. The others were dialed into their Mannies, well enough to be able to give them verbal commands and receive basic audiovisual input. Good enough for the current operation, but as an ongoing thing, it would be completely unworkable. I was certain I could feel the crew metaphorically standing over my shoulder, ready to kibitz. Nonsense, of course, but a hard feeling to shake.
Finally, I got to my feet. “Wow, what a talkative bunch. Let’s get this done, shall we?”
“Brains…” said Garfield's Manny.
Taking their cue from me, the Mannies stood. I open the door and we trooped out, heads down, like a chain gang being led off to a day of hard labor. Bridget had suggested we should proceed toward the local library, pointing out quite reasonably that our pursuers would probably have staked it out, given our prior behavior. It wasn't a bad strategy, but I couldn't shake a certain lamb-to-the-slaughter vibe.
As it turned out, I needn't have bothered my butt over it. Halfway to the library, Will said over the intercom, “You're being followed.”
“Well, good,” Bridget replied. “Maybe we can get somewhere with this mess.” She paused. “I see them. Two males, about 20 yards back.”
“Uh, no,” Garfield said, bemused. “A male and female, paralleling us on the left.”
I barely managed to avoid rolling my eyes. “Outstanding. I’ll give you this, Bridget, your plans work.”
She didn't reply, but I imagined a slightest trace of a smile.
“They're not together,” Will said. “There’s no coordination between them. Not bracketing you, not trying to keep the spacing even. If anything, I'd say one group is following the other group.”
“Maybe we can use that when the time comes. For now though, let's just continue on, oblivious.”
I demonstrated by slowing down to check out some of the wares in storefront displays. I was probably being a little obvious, but then maybe I wasn't being objective. I was getting that itchy feeling between the shoulder blades. I kept telling myself they didn't all have guns, but it wasn't as reassuring as I'd hoped. Even a thrown blade would certainly do some damage. Despite myself, I started rolling my eyes around to check in every direction. I quickly spotted the two groups of stalkers.
Now came the risky part. While I was okay with getting nabbed, I couldn't take a chance on three unmanned Mannies being taken, with the inevitable questions it would raise. Fortunately, we'd scripted this. I turned and huddled with the Mannies. After a few seconds, the other three started back away we'd come at a deliberately casual pace. I, meanwhile, continued on, trying to project urgency from every follicle.
“One group seemed like they were considering following the other Mannies, but then decided you were an easier target,” Bridget said. “Both groups are now on your tail.”
I soon reached the library and sure enough, the Plaza was almost completely clear of people. I wondered how the Quinlans managed to do that without creating a spectacle. On earth, if someone had tried getting people to leave an area they'd end up with an audience twice. Here, people seemed to understand the concept of ‘go away’.
Then, I said almost, right? A couple of groups of Quinlans around the periphery were making a laughable attempt to appear casual. Just standing around, not talking, while fingering something hidden by their backpacks. My mind immediately conjured up Gollum, wondering what they had in their pocketses.
I stopped dead, swiveling only my very mobile Quinlan eyeballs, and that was the cue for the party to start. The two groups of Quinlans that had been waiting turned and made for me, pulling out the usual pig stickers. Before they could get 10 feet, one of our two groups of stalkers pulled out tranq pistols and started shooting. So much for no guns.
The other stalker group immediately made for them, pig stickers in hand. The gun toting Quinlans appeared to be getting the upper hand, when yet another group ran into the plaza and jumped them. I stood in the center of the maelstrom, seemingly totally forgotten.
“It's nice to be popular, isn’t it?” Garfield observed.
“But maybe not conducive to a long life,” I replied. I'm having second thoughts. I vote for bugging out.”
“Yup.”
“Agreed.”
“Move it.”
Well, there was a consensus anyway. Reinforced by my already receding butt, I dropped to all fours and prepared to put on some speed. Immediately the feuding groups found their own consensus, which seem to consist of not letting me get away. Abandoning their battle, the still standing combatants turned as one, and made after me.
“They have guns,” I said.
“Some of them,” Bridget replied.
“Definitely tranquilizer pistols,” Hugh said.
“You’re sure because….?”
“Victims didn't drop like they would from shock. It's more than out-stagger-fall thing.”
Bridget gave that a moment's thought. “Okay. If you get shot by one of those things you should act appropriately.”
“What, you still want me to get captured?” I didn’t try to disguise the surprise my voice. The others were silent for a moment, as I navigated a quick turn around the fountain.
“Jury’s out at this point,” Bridget replied, “but we might find ourselves-”
“Oof!” I grunted, as I was hit by a most
