Postsingular by Rudy Rucker (books for 7th graders .TXT) 📕

get to the other side of the lobby without exposing themselves to gunfire. She seemed fully into the adventure, enjoying the distraction from the problems of her messed-up personal life. She was even moving with something like her old grace. They crawled behind counters and couches and cut through a back room. It felt like it took forever. Behind them in the fab, fires roared and collapsing structures screeched. Finally they were heading up the lab stairs toward Luty’s lair on the third floor.

Thuy was starting to feel optimistic enough to play the happy sneaking music again, but as they crossed the second floor landing, she heard a click and a clatter behind her.

“Freeze!”

She peered back, oh no, it was Andrew Topping with a second dough-faced bully at his side, both of them wearing, ugh, business suits. Each held a heavy pistol at arm’s length, showily bracing their wrists with their free hands.

“Drop it, Thuy!” intoned Topping. “Now!”

Thuy might have tried to whirl and take him down, but even as she thought of this, he fired at her, the bastard, the bullet actually passing through her skirt. Slowly, sullenly, Thuy, Sonic, and Jil laid their weapons on the floor, and then they turned to face their captors. The two men had popped out of a quantum-mirrored broom closet.

“We’re screwed,” said Sonic. Thuy had a brief hopeful thought of the grenade in Sonic’s coat, but Topping spotted it in the local orphidnet. His assistant impounded the grenade and put it in his suit coat pocket.

Azaroth’s head appeared through the wall, alertly regarding them.

“Thanks a lot,” Thuy told him. “You missed the ambush. Space cadet.”

“Stay vibby,” said the Hibraner and disappeared.

“My man Ed and I are here to escort you to meet our CEO,” said Topping. He twitched his pistol. “Go on ahead of us. Sonic first, then Jil, then Thuy. I enjoy watching Thuy twitch her miniskirt under that plaid coat. Want some more cheap sudocoke, Jil?”

“You’re going to pay for that,” said Thuy in a level tone.

Topping’s helper Ed snickered. He picked up the P90s and brought them along.

Silently they mounted the stairs, Thuy walking as stiffly as she could. She kept hoping there’d be a chance to whirl and kick Topping’s pistol from his hand, to snatch his gun and shoot him in the gut—but the right moment didn’t arise.

And then they were in the lab. It looked about the same as when Thuy’s head had gone through the Armory teleport grill. The lab’s grill was still right there on the wall. Ugly fluorescent lighting glared off a long white table and the darkly mirrored walls. Sitting at the table was a man with a full beard of plastic ants, the ants scrambling over each other, ceaselessly active. Jeff Luty. A smooth-curved white box sat on the table before him, a box like a picnic cooler with a red button on one side. The Ark of the Nants, with a fancy ExaExa beetle logo on it. Luty was toying with the Ark, sliding it a little to the left, then a little to the right. Next to the Ark rested a beaker with brownish-purple fluid.

“Hello again, Thuy,” said Luty, licking his lips. “And welcome back to control central, Sonic. I’ve missed you. And hello, Jil Zonder, this is the first time we meet in person. Although, in a way, we’ve talked.” Luty made a wriggling gesture with his fingers beside his head. His greasy ponytail hung down onto his back. He was wearing his old-fashioned scarab bracelet, a chain of semiprecious stones carved like stylized beetles.

“The soldiers are coming up here any minute,” said Jil, hoping this was true. “It’s all over, Luty.”

“I’m the one setting the schedule,” said Luty. “The Guard has instructions to hold back the revolutionary rabble while I ponder my options.” He flicked a long yellow fingernail against the beaker. “This stuff looks like antifreeze, but I call it antinantanium. This beaker is the world’s entire supply. It’s a solvent that can melt the nantanium walls of a certain glassy box. And that box would be, ta-da, my nant farm. And the nant farm is safe inside here.” He patted his white plastic Ark. “When I’m ready, I’ll touch my thumb to the red button, take out my nant farm, and apply antinantanium. The tiniest droplet of the stuff will do. The nantanium walls dissolve, my nants will munge the world, and we’ll all be ported to Vearth 2.0. The all-new Virtual Earth! No more dirt. No dogs allowed. But yet I hesitate. Phew. I can smell you from here, Thuy. You didn’t bathe this morning.”

“I’m alive,” said Thuy, unashamed. “Why are you so afraid of having a body?”

“Bodies break,” said Luty. “They bleed. I loved a boy who had a tube shot into his eye. Goo oozed out. Nobody should have to see a thing like that ever again. That’s why I’m releasing the nants. Life will be clean and safe on Vearth.” Luty paused, nervously rubbing a bit of balm on his lips. “The reason I’m dithering is that I’m just that tiny bit uneasy about Ond’s orphids. I’d hate for them to spoil this. I’m well aware of how many enemies I have; I won’t get another chance. So, listen, Thuy, I can promise you a queenly rank on Virtual Earth if you’ll help me get some face-to-face with Ond. Would you consider jumping over to the Hibrane to fetch him for me? And I’m sorry I mentioned your odor. I’ve been spending way too much time alone.”

“All right,” said Thuy, forcing a smile. “I’ll get Ond.” Anything to buy time.

“I’ll give you an hour,” said Luty. “The National Guard can hold the fort that long.”

There was a pause while Thuy racked her brain. Why the hell couldn’t she visualize Chu’s Knot? The intricate weave had haunted her for months. What was her problem?

“Well?” said Luty.

“I still can’t remember the jump-code,” confessed Thuy. She recalled a thought she’d had on Easter Island: personal pain was the ingredient needed to finish Wheenk.

“Maybe she’ll remember if we start killing her friends,” put in Topping, as if on cue. “I bet she’s holding out on you, Mr. Luty.”

“I’m already a murderer,” said Luty with a sigh. “Those pitiful corpses outside—that’s my doing, no? And yes, Andrew, I do remember that you wanted to keep Sonic around so we could kill him in front of Thuy. I’m sorry, Sonic. But I’ve designed a beautiful model of you for Virtual Earth.”

“You hear that shit?” said Sonic, as if darkly amused. “I’m a lobster they’ve been saving to cook?”

“Make it a clean shot to the temple, Andrew,” said Luty, putting his hands over his face. A few plastic ants dropped to his lap. “Angle it down so you hit the cerebellum. And, please, drag away the poor boy’s corpse before I uncover my eyes.”

A fretful jabber percolated in through the orphidnet, a flicker. A shabbily-dressed old woman poked her face through the ceiling. At first, one might have thought her a figure of pathos, no better than a poor Chinese woman in cast-off clothes. But appearances were deceiving. Slowly and deliberately, Gladax paced across the room, extending her two forefingers and letting two glowing rays spring out. She was homing in on Andrew Topping and his partner, Ed.

Moving briskly, the goons circled out of her reach. But now, with a sudden hop, Gladax was upon them, poking her rays into their heads. The two men twitched, gasped, and dropped to the floor—stone-cold dead.

Moving fast, Thuy and Jil snatched up their P90 submachine guns; Sonic took the men’s pistols and recovered his grenade from Ed’s coat pocket.

“Now it’s your turn,” said Gladax to Luty, speaking out loud. Her voice was a slow, deep rumble. “Life-hater. You dream of killing your Gaia? For shame.” She pointed her finger at Luty and stepped toward him.

Luty jumped up with a hoarse, cracking cry like that of a prehistoric bird. He was heading for the teleportation grating in the wall. Sonic got there two steps ahead of him, and leapt through the grill to the Armory. Luty stopped short.

Off in the Armory, Sonic must have pulled the pin on his grenade and dropped it as he continued running. For now the sound of a blast boomed back through the lab’s grill, followed by a bit of smoke and a light clatter of shrapnel. And then the smoke stopped. The Armory end of the teleport tunnel had been destroyed.

Thuy and Jil leveled their submachine guns at Luty; Gladax closed in on him again, the glowing ray extending from her finger.

Luty lunged awkwardly through the grating anyway. It accepted him, but where he ended up—for now, nobody knew.

A fresh explosion shook the air, this one from overhead. It was Jayjay and Craigor, blasting their way through the dome. Orphidnet access flowed in with the fresh air.

Craigor and Jayjay dropped through the jagged hole to land on the table, clearly relieved to find the women alive. Jayjay picked up the Ark of the Nants and hefted it, unsure what to do next.

“Send me and Craigor home right now,” Jil told Jayjay. “We promised the kids.” She sighed, remembering her problems. “This has been such a nice break. Saving the world is easier than working on your marriage. We need to have a long talk, Craigor.”

“I’ve talked enough,” said Craigor, hardening his face. “Anyway, I’m going into town this afternoon. I told this friend that I’d help with—”

“You’re still catting around?” cried Jil. “Let’s make it simple. Our marriage is over. I want you to move out.” Holding her tears in check, she held up her hand. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got my priorities back. I’m taking care of myself and the kids. Everything else can go to hell. It’s over, Craigor, it’s over.”

Soldiers were talking outside the ExaExa building, planning their next move.

“Um, you guys better teleport to the Merz Boat now,” said Jayjay, messaging a pair of interpolation agents to Craigor and Jil. “Hash out the marriage stuff at home.”

“What fucking ever,” mumbled Craigor. “I’ll pack my bag and leave, Jil. I’m done trying to make you happy. I’ve got my own life to live.” And then he disappeared.

“Should I come with you, Jil?” asked Thuy.

“I’ll message one of my reformed-stoner friends,” said Jil. “She’ll come over and talk me through today.” She squared her shoulders. “It’ll be good. I’ll be happy again.” And then she was gone too.

“That Jil,” said Jayjay.

“I hope she finds someone better than Craigor,” said Thuy.

“Life is hard,” put in Gladax, who’d been watching all this very closely. “But Jil is strong.”

“Maybe I should go after her,” said Thuy.

“Don’t forget about the nants,” said Gladax. “First things first.”

“I’m thinking I’ll teleport the Ark of the Nants to a hiding place,” said Jayjay.

“It’s interesting that your orphids can help you teleport,” said Gladax. “But if you were like us, you could teleport without machines. We use the point at infinity. We use the lazy eight.”

“That’s just ducky,” said Thuy. “Lucky you. Too bad you don’t have any empathy for a struggling woman like Jil.”

“You’re feisty,” messaged the old Hibraner. “I like that.”

“Do you have any ideas about how we kill off these nants?” Jayjay asked Gladax. He was still holding the Ark.

“I don’t understand digital computers,” replied Gladax. “I only know they’re bad. Maybe you’ll have to guard that stupid white box for the rest of your life.”

“We can’t guard it from the Big Pig,” put in Thuy. “She wants to release the nants at midnight. With the orphidnet working, she can see us right now.