Part 45 (1/2)
”It's starting,” says Morat. ”We don't have time for-”
”We don't have time period,” period,” says Control. ”It's all an illusion. We're standing outside it all. And what's happening around us is par for the course when a being like me closes upon its origins. The armadas of the East batter at the door, the creatures of the West barred beyond their reach. None of us in here need give two s.h.i.+ts. By now those fleets have melted away into a f.u.c.king says Control. ”It's all an illusion. We're standing outside it all. And what's happening around us is par for the course when a being like me closes upon its origins. The armadas of the East batter at the door, the creatures of the West barred beyond their reach. None of us in here need give two s.h.i.+ts. By now those fleets have melted away into a f.u.c.king wave-function.” wave-function.”
”Existence ends at that membrane,” mutters Sarmax.
”The Room's a no-room,” says Linehan suddenly.
”The man nails it,” says Lynx.
Linehan takes in Lynx's glance, realizes that everyone else is looking at him now, too. And no one had even thought twice about what was in his head till now. He shakes that head, knows he's got to clear it. He gets that he's been too much the brute to be the object of much suspicion. But disguise is all about surprise ...
”Seb Linehan,” says Control.
”Sure,” says Linehan. ”We met before.”
”But now you've been down ayahuasca alley.”
”Now I've-” and suddenly Linehan gets it: Control's the demon he's been running from this whole while, the beast that sits at the end of time and laps up all pretenders. All futures flow through this thing. That's the way this thing wants it. That's what Linehan's got to somehow stop. He glances at Haskell's form hovering above him. Or below. He can't tell. Time's doing the same thing s.p.a.ce has already done, spreading out in all directions. All perspectives ...
”As always, the man with the least training is the best trained.” Linehan realizes that each word Control's speaking is a musical note intended to call up something from deep within him. ”Ironic, no? What we're conscious of plays so little real real role in riding the raw moment. Give a man drugs to awaken doors within him; you can't argue with the result. Ayahuasca, peyote, mushrooms, LSD-whatever it takes: There's a reason shamans worldwide all did the same d.a.m.n thing-tuned the nervous system to get in touch with the source. And yet modern society forgot. Even as its physics moved in directions that undermined the very a.s.sumptions that society was based on. There's infinite worlds out there. Infinite s.p.a.ces beyond this one. And all of it only a vibration away. Sensitives role in riding the raw moment. Give a man drugs to awaken doors within him; you can't argue with the result. Ayahuasca, peyote, mushrooms, LSD-whatever it takes: There's a reason shamans worldwide all did the same d.a.m.n thing-tuned the nervous system to get in touch with the source. And yet modern society forgot. Even as its physics moved in directions that undermined the very a.s.sumptions that society was based on. There's infinite worlds out there. Infinite s.p.a.ces beyond this one. And all of it only a vibration away. Sensitives know know this. And with the right preparation, anyone can climb those gradients-” this. And with the right preparation, anyone can climb those gradients-”
”I didn't ask to be here,” says Linehan.
”That doesn't matter,” says Control.
”You've got something special planned for me.”
”You're not alone in that.”
”G.o.dd.a.m.n it, I'm not Sinclair!”
”It doesn't matter”-and as Control says this, Morat sidles toward Linehan, who backs away from the oncoming suit.
”What the f.u.c.k is this?”
”We need what's in your brain.”
”I don't know anything!” anything!”
”You don't have to,” says Control. ”Not when you've still got the files that Autumn Rain stashed on you back in Hong Kong.”
”Bulls.h.i.+t,” says Carson. says Carson.
”Those were cleaned out of me a long time back,” says Linehan.
”The surface ones, sure. They thought they'd given you the fake ones. Thought they were just a decoy. And everyone who busted you open thought they'd gotten to the bottom of it. Turns out they just weren't going far enough. Because the only way to the bottom of what's planted in your your mind is via surgery.” mind is via surgery.”
”You guys are crazy crazy,” says Linehan.
”That's the least of your problems,” says Morat-a buzzsaw emanates from his glove. Linehan keeps on backing up, backs into a corner-finds himself staring at Morat's implacable visor even as he wonders what the f.u.c.k's really going on, even as he realizes he's never going to find out-but now Morat suddenly staggers back- ”We're under attack,” says Control-turns to Spencer- Give me what you've got or you are dead.” dead.”
”Ask Sarmax.”
”Man doesn't care if he's alive. You do. Two seconds-”
”Fine,” says Spencer-beams it all over. Morat and Marlowe's suits are starting to smoke while they look around wildly- ”Not looking good,” says Carson.
”Out of your suit,” Control snarls at Marlowe. He leaps down to Morat, grabs him by the head- ”What are you doing?” doing?” yells Morat. yells Morat.
”Can't have you turned against me.”
”For the love of G.o.d,” says Morat-but Control's already tearing at Morat's head, ripping it off, tossing it past Haskell. What's left of Morat's smoking cha.s.sis flares out. Marlowe is climbing out of his suit, wearing the look of a man who's glad he still has a body. He grabs a weapon from a rack on his suit's leg-an automatic rifle-and points it at the others arrayed about. says Morat-but Control's already tearing at Morat's head, ripping it off, tossing it past Haskell. What's left of Morat's smoking cha.s.sis flares out. Marlowe is climbing out of his suit, wearing the look of a man who's glad he still has a body. He grabs a weapon from a rack on his suit's leg-an automatic rifle-and points it at the others arrayed about.
”Everyone stay where you are,” he yells.
Control leaps past him, lands in front of Spencer-who's wondering how he's going to get out of this one. The razor looks up into that visor-that's-no-visor, sees no mercy.
”Don't do it,” he says anyway.
”Got to narrow it down,” says Control-fires- -everything winking out in one flas.h.i.+ng photonegative of this moment superimposed against all he's ever known, all he ever might have, all memories bound up in a single moment and past that moment is the Room itself receding from him at relentless speeds, collapsing away to reveal itself as a single fragment of a woman's face- -Spencer's head explodes in a shower of brain; Control's already whirling toward Linehan, who starts to dive to the right-but Jarvin's leaping in at Control-flinging his body across several meters in less than a second-a move Linehan's never seen a human make outside of armor-and now Jarvin is clinging to the back of Control, screaming at him and tearing at him while Control struggles to shake him off. Sparks are flying everywhere. Marlowe moves in, trying to get a shot off-trying to line Jarvin up with the rifle-and then Marlowe grunts and topples, a dart sticking from his back-line of sight in the direction of- ”Leo?” says Carson. says Carson.
”Watch out!” yells Sarmax- -as Control's suit goes crazy, gyros propelling it against a wall and then bouncing back toward the Operative, who hurls himself aside, hearing Jarvin cursing Control for traitor and ingrate and Control begging Jarvin not to absorb his mind, and the Operative realizes in that moment that Control hasn't a chance-that none of them do-and the blood of Spencer drips down past Haskell's face and the body of Marlowe floats above them and the man who isn't really Alek Jarvin smashes Control against another wall with a force that sends parts flying, some kind of machine howl filling all their heads as the consciousness of a full-fledged quantum computer starts getting absorbed by something else altogether- ”Let's get out of here,” says Lynx.
”Nowhere to run,” says Sarmax.
Jarvin tosses what's left of Control aside.
And looks at them like he's sizing up his prey- ”Easy,” says Carson. Linehan's jaw drops open as Jarvin's face just-s.h.i.+mmers, the molded software that covers it switching off, peeling back to reveal another face-a smile that he recognizes from newsvid- ”Welcome to the endgame,” says Matthew Sinclair.
f.u.c.k,” says the Operative.
Sinclair's smile broadens. ”Good to see you too.”
”You f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.d.” b.a.s.t.a.r.d.”
”I'll be the first to admit it's been a long, strange trip.”
”What the f.u.c.k have you become, Matthew?”
”Ask him,” says Sinclair-gestures at Linehan.
And now they're all looking at him again; one in particular, and it's all Linehan can do not to wilt before the gaze of the thing thing that's not even vaguely human ... that's not even vaguely human ...
”You ... ate ate Control,” he says. Control,” he says.
Sinclair shrugs. ”In point of fact, I'm still doing that.”
”f.u.c.king digesting digesting him,” mutters Lynx. him,” mutters Lynx.
”It'll take a few minutes,” says Sinclair. He looks around. ”Thanks for the a.s.sist, Leo.”