Cyberweb by Lisa Mason

Author:Lisa Mason
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: artificial intelligence, science fiction, san francisco, futuristic, robots, cyberpunk
Publisher: Lisa Mason

9

Strange Dances

Ouija watches the genny woman and her canned companion stab themselves with wires from the demon chair he’d help free from its wooden cage. Watches them feed their souls to the spirits of the Unseen. Watches the genny woman’s eyes roll back in her head as Ginger’s eyes had rolled back when she died. Watches her body twitch and shudder. Watches the canned companion—the genny woman spoke to the thing as if it is a person, though it looks awfully machinelike to Ouija—go quiet, dark, and empty when the spirit which it—she, of the name Pr. Spinner—carries within herself flees as surely as the genny woman’s soul.

Terrible to behold. Where do they go? Despite his revulsion, Ouija admits to a prickle of curiosity. Where is the Unseen? Curiosity and perhaps his hunter’s pride are challenged. If a slim young genny woman braves the Unseen, surely he can look upon Its awful face, too. Not that he desires this.

But, if he chose to, he could. Why not? The genny woman said many-many times she is not a servant to the spirits. She rebels against the spirits. And he believes this. If she can journey to the Unseen, speak with the spirits, and return unharmed, how difficult can that journey be?

Of course, the genny woman is shaped by powerful magic, he reminds himself.

He crouches on the floor of their hideout, stomach churning with dread. Yet his heart is more firm than it has been days. For he has been charged by Louie Zoo to watch the genny woman. And watch her he has as Lord Day and Lady Night compete for the sky. Till he spotted her with her little flying machine removing her possessions from the YinYang Club. Though Whoosh was silent, showing him no signs or prophesies, still Ouija knew she was leaving that place for good. He knew the look of moving on. She found another lair. But he cannot know where for he cannot follow her once she soars into the air.

Thus Ouija watched, and when he saw her return with her flying machine, he resolved to hunt her. He had crept around the back of the YinYang Club, crept up the dark stairwell in the secret Way—lightly in tread, firmly in motion, resolutely in strength.

The stairwell was a very evil place. It smelled as bad as a dirty drain, housed vermin in the scut piles strewn in its corners. At the bottom of the stairwell, Ouija heard the noisy crowd, the music of the club. He crept past, disdaining to look through a curtain. But which doorway led to the genny woman’s lair? He squatted in the foul darkness, batting at bugs. Suddenly up above, he heard her voice, a clear mellow tone with an easy laugh that pleased him.

He silently ran up the two flights of stairs, surprising her as she turned away from two monstrous canned folk departing in the little room that moved up and down. Surprised her, seized her. She struggled with

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