He glared back at the woman.
Death Angel’s midnight hair wraps a snake around her ivory throat. Isn’t she afraid they’ll strangle her? Stupid-Death Angel has no fear of her master. I haven’t heard her upstairs before, have I? Think, stupid, think.
Bearclaw knelt beside the woman. “If this were the twenty-first century,” he said, “Virgil would’ve been declared certifiably insane. He’d have been put in an institution against his will.”
Trine frowned as she stood. “He’s not quite part of the joy division here, is he?”
Bearclaw nodded and rose. “It’s a fine line, isn’t it? Because his insurance policy had an insanity care clause, he was put away morally and legally.”
“So the difference between the way the Fets might once have treated him and the way he’s being treated now is his signature on some old scrim.” The woman tried not to watch Kinney’s eyes as they gazed mutely up at her.
The MentTech smiled. “The difference between DuoLab and the Fetters is that if Virgil’s bill isn’t paid, he’s out on his retro.”
“Who funds his upkeep?” she asked.
“Paid in advance by Tri-World Life, for life plus rejuvenation. The circumstances are unu-”
“Could I have a gurney brought in now?”
“Yes, tovar.” Bearclaw scribbled the instruction onto his scrimsheet. The dispatching computer acknowledged with a green glow on the upper bar of the notepad.
Trine folded her arms and considered her find. “He’s never tried to use a seppukukit?”
Bearclaw shook his dark head, pulling a viewscrim from the file folder to hand to her. “Here’s his file. You’ll see that his personality doesn’t run in those directions. Quiet and private is not the way he wants to die. He wants to go down in flames. Are you sure you can use him?”
Without answering, she held out her hand to receive the thin viewscrim. She slipped it into her notebook, frowning at a thought. “Who put him away here in the first place?”
“The perpetual care clause was activated by his insurance company when his last suicide attempt demolished about a kilauro worth of property and killed a family of four tourists.” Noticing the curious expression growing on Trine’s angular face, he added, “He’s a threat, tovar. A genuine threat. He’s not an intentional murderer. It’s just that when he tries suicide, innocent people are in harm’s way.”
“Does he talk about it?”
Bearclaw’s black eyes gazed back at hers. “We’ve never been able to get him to say a word.”
She nodded. “The Brennen Trust has a place for him.”
“I can’t imagine where, tovar Trine.”
She smiled with studied warmth. “Glad to be rid of him?”
The big man said nothing.
Green eyes watched the exchange with uncomprehending panic. Bandaged ears strained but heard only the rush of blood.
Death Angel and Marsface leave me without devouring my soul. No death today, but beware of tricks. I’ll have to meet the man in the nightsheet on my own terms. Cleanse myself with fire. If only I could touch my pain. Crush my brain. Aladdin sane.
Virgil closed his eyes.
Virgil’s eyes opened in a different room. His body trembled and sweated within its constraints.
I’ve made it! It worked and I didn’t even have to think about it! Free! Almost. Why did I bring the sheets with me? Stupid- they were too close to you. I’ll get out, though. Did Master Snoop follow me? Can’t tell. Too noisy. Is this the Control room? Did I escape right into their clutches?
“He’s awake, Dee.” The graying Pharmaceutic sat near a bank of indicators flashing red, turquoise, yellow, and orange.
Delia Trine needed no brain wave analyzers to see Kinney open his eyes. He lay at the center of the lab on a wide table with raised edges, white and mummylike against soft black sudahyde. Wires from the electrodes on his head emerged like vines from under his wrappings to drape over the couch and flow into the equipment surrounding him. The few sections of wall that lacked machinery displayed soothing mahogany-toned fauxwood paneling.
Virgil shuddered, his gaze darting about to see the others.
Lights. Sounds. Operators. I escaped, all right. Right up into the ceiling with Master Snoop. Death Angel, too. They wouldn’t let Marsface in here, though-he’s just a tool. Damn.
The woman whispered toward the Pharmaceutic. “Lock the eyetrace on his gaze, Steve. I don’t think he’s a paraschiz as DuoLab thought.”
Ignoring what Bearclaw had told her, she deliberately pinioned Kinney’s abstracted stare with a stern glare of her own. “Virgil Grissom Kinney,” she said in a level tone. She waited for the eyes to focus on her before she continued. “Good. Virgil, I’m going to give you something you were never given at DuoLab. I’m going to give you a choice. Do you remember what a choice is?”
The pupils of Kinney’s green eyes constricted slightly. Death Angel hovers over me as I lay in my coffin. Soft, stupid coffin with no lid. Red lips move cunningly. I can almost break her code. She wants something. I’ll agree, go along with it for now. The roar hasn’t been broken yet. Break the roar and I can crack her code. Easy, easy. Take it easy.
He nodded slowly. His gaze narrowed into something less fearful, something more focused.
The woman watched his reactions the way a cat observes the motions of stalked prey. “Good,” she said, straightening up. “Virgil, they tell me you like to kill yourself.”
She knows about them! She must-she’s one of them. Remember that. He twitched in amazement. The roar is quieter now. Words pass through Master Snoop’s jamming with greater frequency.
“I’m going to offer you a choice,” Trine continued. “I have two IVs here.” She gestured toward a cart on which lay a pair of clear plastic sacks filled with opaque gray liquid, one labeled with a skull and crossbones, one with a bright yellow happy face. “This one”-she picked up the death’s head bag- “is a poison that will kill you in a matter of seconds. This other”-she showed him the smiling bag-“will help you overcome your… predicament. Blink your eyes once for poison or twice for salvation.”
His mouth opened slightly, teeth pressing against his lower lip.
“Fuh-”
“What?” She leaned closer to him, picking up a pair of bandage scissors and delicately snipping away the gauze from his throat and jaw. Saliva drooled across his cheek.
“Fff… Fuh-false dichotomy.”
She laid the scissors aside and frowned.
The Pharmaceutic smiled. “I think that means he doesn’t want to play.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” she said to Virgil. “I’d have switched labels to make sure you’d get this one.” She held up the bottle with the happy face. “The other’s just colored water.”
She pulled an IV stand over to the table. “I’m injecting this into you, false dichotomy or not. The Brennen Trust bought out the premium on your insurance policy. We’ve bailed you out for a reason and we want a return on our investment. Or would you prefer to remain wrapped and strapped forever?”
Virgil lay absolutely still, every muscle locked in rigid tension. What’s the dance she’s treading? I thought I had her code. Maybe all I have is her cipher. Yes. Cipher to know what she’s saying, no code to know what she means. If I could get out of my room, maybe I can escape from this one, too. Three, four, five times I’ll try.
Slowly, his gaze never leaving hers, Virgil nodded as far as his swathing allowed. Then he stopped, reconsidered the question, and shook his head slowly from side to side.
“Fine,” Trine said. “Steve, you can take it now.”
The Pharmaceutic brought a needle kit over to Virgil’s side. He wore an impeccably benign smile. The IV package unsealed with a crackle of plastic. In the corner of the room, a videoscrim panel fluxed to zoom in on the operation.