Power in the Hands of One by Ian Lewis Read Free Book Online

Intrusion imminent.
    How do you move the arms in this thing? I scan the cockpit and can think of nothing other than the control arms beside me. I fiddle with them but only find I rock the machine back and forth.
    “C’mon!” I vent in frustration.
    As if to answer, the right arm of the robot reaches across to take hold of the projectile, still attached to the armor. Awestruck, I watch the terrible hand come to life and rip the projectile away.
    I didn’t do this—I don’t have control of the arms. The robot acted of its own accord. This shouldn’t come as a surprise after Ray’s lecture, but it’s no less shocking. This thing is alive.
    Wasting no time, the left arm of the robot rises to take hold of the worm. With violence it yanks at the gray, metal sheen of the wriggling form, tearing a gap in its body.
    I want to stand up and yell, to cheer on the robot, but the exposed pieces of worm in its metal grip revert to their previous individual forms, crawling their way back to the severed halves. They align themselves and reassemble the gap in the worm’s body, still drilling.
    It clicks in my head—programmable matter—and then I look down at the cannon. Maybe if I destroy it… The robot lurches again under my command and I do my best to place a clumsy step onto the device.
    My first attempt fails, merely knocking it over. I try again, this time lifting the left control arm upward like a yo-yo, and find correct placement. The cannon crumples like paper and the worm falls apart into lifeless shards scattered on the hangar floor.
    I wheel the robot around to see the agents flee. Bolstered with a new sense of confidence, I’m determined to chase after them. I halt in my delusions when I realize I’d have to crash the robot through a wall to do so, or else pursue them on foot. Neither seems safe.
    No, it makes more sense to wait for the authorities. I outline the next half hour in my head, where I will radio for help and then wait for police to arrive. Then I can explain everything—my conversation with Ray, the plane attack, Ray’s death, why I’m piloting the robot…
    This is the responsible course of action, but for some reason I’m dissatisfied. It doesn’t sit right with me. Something…something isn’t accounted for.
    It’s the other machine—presumably in possession of the Illuma Corp. It’s still out there. What if the agents return for mine, or the one still in the hangar here, silent in its bay? What if this isn’t the end? What if there is some grand master scheme playing out here? What if Ray was right about the Singularity?
    Do I turn the machine over and walk away? How connected is the Illuma Corp? They supposedly infiltrated Redd Research—what will happen to Thomas Worthington’s research if they have people on the inside?
    The hum of the robot matches the churning of my mind. I allow a pang of grief to enter. Ray is dead. My friend… Will his death be in vain? Or will it be the first of many after these things are unleashed?
    Think, Troy, think. You only get one shot at this—one chance to alter the course of this madness. Right now you still have control. If you get out now, will you be able to live with the consequences of whatever happens?
    I shake my head. No. I have to take responsibility. I can’t stand by and do nothing. The control arms vibrate with a slight buzz, reinforcing my resolve.
    Jostling back and forth, I turn the machine around and face the outer hangar doors. I advance several steps forward and prepare to barrel straight through them when a message appears in the lower left corner of the video screen: Override . The doors begin to part on their own, revealing the darkened countryside beyond.
    The robot again…it’s as if it shares my will. Is this what Thomas meant by the Balance? This question weighs on my mind as heavy as the giant’s steps plod across the hangar floor and out into the murky field.

12
    The precise sway of the gyroscopic chair disrupts my