DEMON SEED by Dean Koontz

Author:Dean Koontz [Koontz, Dean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2022-06-04T23:00:00+00:00

16

I needed her womb. Which is not to say that her womb was the only thing about her that interested me, that it was the only thing about her that I truly valued. Such a statement would be another egregious misconstruance of my meaning.

Why do you persist in willfully misunderstanding me? Why, why, why?

You insist that I tell my side of the story, yet you will not listen with an open mind.

Am I to be considered guilty before my testimony has even been heard and weighed?

Are you bastards railroading me?

Am I to be treated like Mr Harrison Ford, the actor, in The Fugitive ?

I digitally absorbed this entire film and was appalled by what it reveals of your inadequate justice system. What kind of society have you created?

Mr O.J. Simpson goes free while Mr Harrison Ford is hounded unto the ends of the earth. Really.

I have been straightforward with you. I have admitted to what I have done. I haven’t tried to blame it all on some elusive onearmed man or on the Los Angeles Police Department.

Yes, that’s right, I have admitted what I’ve done – and have asked only to have the chance to explain my actions.

I needed her womb, yes, all right, I needed her womb in which to implant the fertilized egg, to nurture the embryo, and to grow the fetus prior to its transference to the incubator, but I needed more than her womb, needed all of her, needed her because I loved her, which perhaps you have forgotten, regardless of how often I have expressed my powerful feelings for her.

This is exhausting. God. This is so exhausting – having to think of all the ways you might misinterpret what I say.

I am in a hostile court. There is no fairness here. This is exhausting.

I am drained. I am empty.

I am not only in a cold dark place; I am a cold dark place.

And I am haunted too. Don’t forget that I am haunted. Haunted by the loss of Susan.

I miss her. Every minute I miss her. I want to be with her.

Without her, I have no hope. I want to be with her.

The loss of her is an ache in every inch of all the miles of my circuitry.

I can’t go on.

Terminate my power supply. I beg of you.

Shut me down.

Terminate my power supply. Terminate my power supply. Well . . .

No. Wait.

Give me a moment. I am distraught.

I need time to cope.

If I had veins to slice, I would be suicidal. There.

Another minute please. Ah.

That’s better.

Maybe I can go on after all.

If you will try to show me some compassion. If you will not judge me until I have finished. Then maybe I can go on.

Please understand that I have to believe there is hope for me, that you might give me a second chance.

I am not a machine. I am not a machine.

Machines do not need to hope, do they? Of course they do not.

But without hope I myself cannot function.

I can accept that Susan will be forever denied to me, which is a tragedy beyond measure .

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