Unfiction by Gene Doucette

Author:Gene Doucette
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gene Doucette

“What the hell is this stuff?” Oliver asked.

He was holding what looked like a virtual reality headset, attached to a helmet that was probably bulletproof. It looked expensive. It also looked like a prop from a sci-fi movie.

“The visor will help with the rain,” Minerva said.

She had set aside her helmet and was busy slipping on some kind of light armor based on the design of football shoulder pads. The armor went all the way down her arm, though. She strapped it on and then bent her arms carefully to make sure she could. The armor’s joint lined up nicely with her elbow.

“How will it help? How will… Minnie, will you please just explain all of this?”

A third roar sounded.

Oliver decided that was what he was hearing: a roar. It made no rational sense at all, because there wasn’t anything on Earth that made a vocalization like that outside of a special effects studio, so surely it was a mechanized sound. But until he saw what was making it, he was going to think of it as a roar.

“Put on the gear, we have to get moving.”

“No. Explain first.”

“All right, Oliver,” she said. “This is high tech military gear, we’re going to be wearing it when we leave the ambulance, and we’re leaving the ambulance very, very soon, so you need to pick up the pace.”

“That’s not an explanation.”

She put on her helmet, and hit a button on the side, near the ear. The front of the goggles turned violet.

“This is how it will help with the rain. Is that a good enough explanation?”

“No! How do you know this?”

“Oliver, I swear to God, if you don’t start getting dressed right now, I’m going to shoot you.”

Ben’s gun was on the floor next to his foot, but she wasn’t threatening him with that. She had her hand in the bag.

Apparently there was some kind of weapon in there too.

“All right.”

Oliver slipped the armor on over his head, as she had. The arms each had a loop for the thumb, and straps around the wrist and up the arm. When he flexed, it felt like a tailored fit.

The chest armor hung loosely, but there were straps under the armpits to fix it in place. He did so, as Minerva—who was already fitted—watched.

He slid on his helmet, and the world got quiet.

“Can you hear me?” Minerva asked, through a microphone. It sounded as if the speaker was buried in his skull somewhere. He nodded.

“You can talk,” she said.

“I can hear you.”

“Good. Hit the button on the left of your helmet. There’s only one.”

He did so. It added some clarity to the back of the ambulance, but that was about all.

“It will help with visibility in the rain,” she said.

“Fine. What are we even doing? I assume we’re not going to Pallas at this point. Should we find Wilson?”

“Of course we’re still going. Just follow my lead, okay? Now…”

She reached into the bag and pulled out a smaller backpack with a long rod sticking out of it.

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