Weaponized Human (Robot Geneticists Book 3) by J.S. Morin

Author:J.S. Morin [Morin, J.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781942642299
Publisher: Magical Scrivener Press
Published: 2017-06-27T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Four

Plato’s hands shook. This was delicate work, not the sort his thick, meaty fingers were designed for. The access panel to Evelyn44’s secret database server was still open, and now Plato was probing inside with his emergency repair kit.

The gloves Plato had worn during his “leave no DNA” search of the lab were on the floor, discarded as a hindrance to his already limited fine motor skills. He regularly had to wipe sweat on his pants to keep his grip on the tweezers from slipping.

“Come on,” he encouraged the wire. If he did this right, he would be able to take a clumsy reading of the data being transmitted over one of the fibers. The effect would be nothing like plugging into the system directly, but best he could tell, there were no sensors to detect a passive photon sniffer on the line.

Heisenberg said you couldn’t measure something without changing it. Plato’s corollary was that if you changed it little enough, no one would notice. His modified reflector and re-transmitter counted on that.

Eve had sent replies to his mayday, but Plato had bitten his tongue and refused to reply. One broadcast from Evelyn44’s basement might already have gotten him in hot water, but so far she hadn’t come down to the sub-basement to look for him. Another signal from her own house and maybe she would.

But while Plato waited for rescue, he couldn’t stand the idleness.

Nobody would accuse him of surrendering to the enemy or not giving his all to avoid capture. That’s what a good soldier—or secret agent—was supposed to do.

Plato’s fingers slipped. The tweezers fell. There was a quiet, muffled ring as the tweezers landed inside the cabinet of the server, resonating like a small tuning fork.

“Wonderful,” Plato grumbled. “Et tu, tweezers?”

It wasn’t bad enough that Evelyn44 was out to get him. It wasn’t even enough that the Privacy Committee bozos wanted to shut down the HPA and replace Eve. It wasn’t even enough for one stupid day that he had to call Eve for help, possibly getting her in even hotter water. Now he’d lost his tweezers.

Plato stared into the server. All the evidence he needed was in there, somewhere. Some movie hero would jack in, hook up his wrist computer, and start broadcasting. The movie hero would get the info out just before Evelyn44 arrived to stop him; she’d fall to her knees and explain how horrible life as an immortal robot was and spare Plato out of guilt.

The non-movie version would have Plato set off a silent alarm before he knew it, and by the time he’s started uploading to the Earthwide, Evelyn44 would be standing over him with some bio-engineered sedative. He’d wake up strapped to an upload rig before watching the final seconds of his life pass by, getting scanned and replaced by the mind of some James or Charlie with dreams of being a human with chronic arthritis at the age of twelve.

Plato chose not to be the idiot hero. He tried to avoid combining the two.

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