Virtual light (b-1) by William Gibson

Author:William Gibson [Gibson, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sf_cyberpunk

19 Superball

out.' Yamazaki watched as he began to work his toes through the holes in his ragged gray socks. 'Not sure I can do shit with 'em, once I do …' He stopped. Looked at Yamazaki. 'Better idea, but you won't like it.'

'Skinner-san?'

'Look at that brace there.'

Discolored blobs of puddled welding-rod held the thing together, but it looked sturdy enough. He counted the mismatched heads of nine screws. The diagonal brace itself seemed to be made up of thin metal shims, lashed together top and bottom with rusting twists of wire.

'I made that,' Skinner said. 'Those're three sections of blade off a factory saw. Never did grind the teeth off. On top there.'

Yamazaki's fingertips moved over hidden roughness.

'Shot, Scooter. Wouldn't cut for shit. Why I used 'em.'

'I saw plastic?' Poising his wrists.

'Wait up. You start sawing on that crazy-goo, it isn't gonna like it. Have to get through it quick or it's gonna close up right down to the bone. I said wait…'

Yamazaki froze. He looked back.

'You're too close to the center. You cut through there, you'll have a ring around each wrist and the suckers'll still close up. You want to go through as close to one side as possible, get over here and get the cutter on the other one before it does you. I'll try to get this open . ..' He bumped the case with his toes. It rattled.

Yamazaki brought his face close to the red restraint. It had a faint, medicinal smell. He took a breath, set his teeth, and sawed furiously with his wrists. The thing began to shrink. Bands of iron, the pain hot and impossible. He remembered

Loveless's hand around his wrist.

'Do it,' Skinner said.

The plastic parted with an absurdly loud pop, like some sound-effect in a child's cartoon. He was free and, for an ISO instant, the rec band around his left wrist loosened, absorbing the rest of the mass.

'Scooter!'

It tightened. He scrambled for the toolkit, amazed to see it open, as Skinner kicked it over with his heel, spilling a hundred pieces of tooled metal.

'Blue handles!'

The bolt-cu:ter was long, clumsy, its handles wrapped in greasy blue tape. He saw the red band narrowing, starting to sink below the level of his flesh. Fumbled the cutter one-handed from the tangle, sank its jaws blindly into his wrist and brought all his weight down on the uppermost handle. A stab of pain. The detonation.

Skinner blew air out between his lips, a long low sound of relief. 'You okay?'

Yamazaki looked at his wrists. There was a deep, bluish gouge in the left one. It was starting to bleed, but no more than he woulc have expected. The other had been scratched by the saw. He glanced around the floor, looking for the remains of the restraint.

'Do me,' Skinner said. 'But hook it under the plastic, okay? Try not to take a hunk out. And do the second one fast.'

Yamazaki tested the action of the cutter, knelt behind Skinner, slid one of the blades beneath the plastic around the old man's right wrist.

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