The centaur would go past. It had more important things to do. She lay stunned, panting. If she opened her eyes she would definitely vomit. Her ears rang so loud she heard almost nothing.
This was only a setback. As soon as she could stand …
Something grabbed her by the arm. Hard. Metal. She knew what it was before she opened her eyes to see gleaming steel. The centaur yanked her up. Drew was scrambling to his feet—and it kicked him in the head. Blood splattered, and he flew back into the water.
Berenike told the woman banging on the door to take a bicycle. “I’ll make it free.” Amazingly, the woman agreed.
As Berenike set up the free ride, she saw that she could make all the bicycles in the region free. Done! Then she set up a notice to send to everyone requesting a car that the bikes were free. Corporate would choke at that. Good. Mutiny felt almost as exhilarating as she’d hoped.
Could she do that to buses, too? Of course. She was an omnipotent god—but not omniscient, she realized, or she would have thought of that already. She could also open all the windows on every bus automatically. Fresh air would be healthful. Done and announced. Get home fast and free, folks!
She sat down and took a moment to gloat. She had power, and she could use it for good.
Enough gloating. She stood up to study the data. Usage resembled nothing on record. No one was stopping to eat or pick up meals. Wait times had leveled off at unacceptable levels, but the free alternative bikes and buses might help soon.
Fleet size remained stable. Good. No poaching from surrounding areas, which there sometimes was, a kind of war within AutoKar for scarce resources. Only two cars had disappeared from her control, both in the northwestern area. Again, that was odd—until she checked and saw that some surrounding franchises had shut down. Irresponsible fuckheads. People need cars.
The city’s Health Department called again. “We need more cars to make deliveries.”
“Consider it done.”
With a little effort, she got it done. As she worked, her mood soured. Was it anger? Anger was good. Familiar. Energizing. Maybe even healthy. But angry at precisely who? She began to list targets, and the list quickly became long.
The two employees reported for work, and she gave them a fast briefing. “Our chief task is to help keep people alive in any way we can. That means safe, efficient transportation.”
“I believe God wants me to do this,” one of them said, a woman named Summer Ngan. “I’ll be praying for everyone and bless each car.”
Her coworker gave her a glance but said nothing. Both were very capable. Besides, a blessing for each car might do good. Who knew?
She thanked Summer but wondered if some problems were too big for God to solve—certainly not a god at her small level of omnipotence, for all that she was enjoying her powers. She took the time to check the local mutiny chatter and tell them what she’d done, and she learned that a national mutiny news feed existed. The mutineers must have planned all along to create one. Well, as Summer would say, bless them. Maybe they were more capable than she’d thought.
She put the mutiny news feed on audio. Emergencies were being declared in a lot of places—but not nationally. No one had a death count or prediction or any other hard numbers. Most authorities agreed the killer was the delta cold, but there seemed to be two kinds of it, or at least two very different reactions to it.
The feed reported with scorn that the White House had issued a statement deploring the looting of pharmacies and threatening action to end social unrest, but it hadn’t said where that was happening. Maybe it wasn’t happening at all.
No one was saying what was going on at the refugee camps—probably something even worse than what was happening in Milwaukee. If she could help keep Milwaukee more or less intact, maybe the city could eventually help the camps somehow. A successful mutiny needed a city with all possible resources available.
Callers kept requesting cars. She automated the responses despite a clumsy setup process. It would rain soon. Would showers clean the air or give the virus moisture to survive longer? That was still in debate.
The city was sending cleaning fluid, gloves, and masks to public sites for distribution, and it needed more cars. The city’s Health Department had also learned of a possible treatment, an antiviral medicine delivered by eye drops, of all things, and would organize distribution of it. Two of the local AutoKar offices needed more staffing. That problem took a while to solve. She tried to sweet-talk one employee by stressing all the lives he could save. He asked if this was part of the mutiny.
“The city is in a state of emergency.” She hoped that was what he wanted to hear.
“They’re talking about it on the Prez’s channel. Traitors, they say. I want to be a traitor.”
Perfect! “We’re under the control of Emergency Government even though corporate said we shouldn’t do that. The city government is in mutiny. Mutineers supporters wear purple. This is a mutiny operation now.”
“Then I’m in. Hey, can I wear purple jewelry today?” Corporate rules banned flashy jewelry.
“Wear all you have and wear it proud.”
Emergency Government asked her to attend an all-personnel video briefing. I’m part of the city’s personnel now? The mayor, in need of a shave, dressed in a purple Hawaiian shirt, appeared on her screen:
“I want to thank you all and make one thing clear. This is a mutiny. This isn’t a declaration of independence. We’re still proud citizens of the United States.” He spoke as if he were delivering a thundering sermon, like the
