Book 4: Chapter 32: Losing on Purpose
Bob
July 2334
Three Lagoons
Bushes: rattling of, process for. I had to admit, it wasn’t really in my wheelhouse. We did have one simple tactic, based on previous experience—go out in public together. But without a full midpoint station, that was out. Or was it?
We only had to go out long enough to make the association. The AMI controllers could handle an instruction like “follow Bob.” If there was a wood cutting of our images out there, it should trigger something.
I sat in our surprisingly spacious hotel room, silently exchanging looks with the other three mannies. The AMIs weren’t geniuses, but they could handle simple directives, as long as they didn’t have to talk. The others were dialed into their mannies well enough to be able to give them verbal commands and receive basic audio-visual input. Good enough for the current operation, but as an ongoing thing it would be completely unworkable.
I was certain I could feel the crew metaphorically standing over my shoulder, ready to kibitz. Nonsense, of course, but a hard feeling to shake. Finally, I got to my feet. “Wow, what a talkative bunch. Let’s get this done, shall we?”
“Braaaaains …” said Garfield’s mannie.
Taking their cue from me, the mannies stood. I opened the door and we trooped out, heads down, like a chain gang being led off to a day of hard labor. Bridget had suggested we should proceed toward the local library, pointing out quite reasonably that our pursuers would probably have staked it out, given our prior behavior. It wasn’t a bad strategy, but I couldn’t shake a certain “lamb to the slaughter” vibe.