framing her face with her
hands.
“Anya remains a bitch,” Nijinsky said, trying to sound jokey
about it and not succeeding. “The president is dead, long live the new
guy, President Abbott. The country is freaked out, but we are still
not under surveillance—as far as we can tell. The Chinese premier
53
MICHAEL GRANT
just had a very sudden illness, and we know he’d been compromised
by the Armstrongs. So, it’s possible the Chinese government is . . .
aware.”
“And Burnofsky?” Keats asked.
Nijinsky shrugged. He looked away, not avoiding Keats, but
seeing that weirdly colored window inside his brain. He had a biot
resting on Burnofsky’s optic nerve. The biot was tapped into visual
input from Burnofsky’s right eye.
“At the moment he’s working,” Nijinsky said. “I can’t make out
what’s on his monitor—I have a pretty good tap, but you know what
it’s like.”
They all, all except Anya, did know what it was like. Tapping an
optic nerve was a bit like watching an old-fashioned TV in a thunder-
storm back before cable, when the picture could be wildly distorted
and never entirely clear.
“Has he been in touch with the Armstrong Twins?” Plath asked.
Nijinsky nodded. He tapped a cigarette out of some exotic, foreign
pack and lit it. “Four days after that ship went down in Hong Kong.
By the way, Lear is sure that was an Armstrong thing. Some kind of
messed-up human zoo. By that point I was done wiring Burnofsky. I
sent him back in. But nothing face-to-face. Wherever the Twins are
now, they aren’t talking to Burnofsky in person; it’s all video link.”
“Do you have a biot in his ear?” Plath asked.
“No.”
There was pause while everyone absorbed this. It meant Nijinsky
could see what Burnofsky was seeing, but could not hear what he was
hearing.
54
BZRK APOCALYPSE
“Why not?” Plath asked, deceptively quiet.
Nijinsky blew his smoke toward her. It was not a subtle gesture.
He resented being demoted and didn’t mind if she knew. “Because I
was using my other biots to train Billy, here.”
“For a month?”
Nijinsky shook his head. “Fuck you, Plath.”
Keats’s eyes narrowed angrily, but Plath remained cool. “A lot has
been asked of you, Jin. And you’ve endured a lot.”
“Endured,” he said, sneering at the word. “Yes, I’ve endured a lot.
A lot of enduring has gone on.”
“Why not have Anya generate a new biot and use it?”
Billy and Wilkes were watching the back-and-forth between the
two, like spectators at a tennis match. Vincent was elsewhere in his
mind. Keats was keeping still, irritated by Nijinsky, but accepting that
this was up to Plath to handle.
“Why not generate a new biot?” Nijinsky mocked. “When you
play Russian roulette, you put one bullet in the gun and spin the
chamber. Click .” He mimed shooting himself in the head. “A one-
in-six chance you’re dead. Two bullets? That’s a one-in-three chance.
Three? At that point it’s fifty-fifty. You know why not, Plath, so don’t give me that hard look. Vincent barely survived the loss of one biot.
Keats’s brother is shackled in a loony bin for losing two biots. You
want to hear what Burnofsky’s hearing? Tell Wilkes to do it. Or do it
yourself, Plath.”
Plath nodded. “Okay. Fair enough.”
“What are we doing?” Anya asked wearily. “What is this all
about anymore? The Armstrong attempt to control the president
55
MICHAEL GRANT
is obviously ended. And it seems the same is true of the Chinese
premier. The Twins are in hiding. Burnofsky has been wired and
switched sides. Bug Man is gone. What are we doing? Are we play-
ing a game? If so, what is our next move?”
“They still have the technology,” Plath said. “They will try again.
In some other way. They won’t give up.”
“How do we know that?” Anya demanded.
“They found Keats and me. They blew up the boat that was com-
ing to pick us up.”
“Convenient,
hands.
“Anya remains a bitch,” Nijinsky said, trying to sound jokey
about it and not succeeding. “The president is dead, long live the new
guy, President Abbott. The country is freaked out, but we are still
not under surveillance—as far as we can tell. The Chinese premier
53
MICHAEL GRANT
just had a very sudden illness, and we know he’d been compromised
by the Armstrongs. So, it’s possible the Chinese government is . . .
aware.”
“And Burnofsky?” Keats asked.
Nijinsky shrugged. He looked away, not avoiding Keats, but
seeing that weirdly colored window inside his brain. He had a biot
resting on Burnofsky’s optic nerve. The biot was tapped into visual
input from Burnofsky’s right eye.
“At the moment he’s working,” Nijinsky said. “I can’t make out
what’s on his monitor—I have a pretty good tap, but you know what
it’s like.”
They all, all except Anya, did know what it was like. Tapping an
optic nerve was a bit like watching an old-fashioned TV in a thunder-
storm back before cable, when the picture could be wildly distorted
and never entirely clear.
“Has he been in touch with the Armstrong Twins?” Plath asked.
Nijinsky nodded. He tapped a cigarette out of some exotic, foreign
pack and lit it. “Four days after that ship went down in Hong Kong.
By the way, Lear is sure that was an Armstrong thing. Some kind of
messed-up human zoo. By that point I was done wiring Burnofsky. I
sent him back in. But nothing face-to-face. Wherever the Twins are
now, they aren’t talking to Burnofsky in person; it’s all video link.”
“Do you have a biot in his ear?” Plath asked.
“No.”
There was pause while everyone absorbed this. It meant Nijinsky
could see what Burnofsky was seeing, but could not hear what he was
hearing.
54
BZRK APOCALYPSE
“Why not?” Plath asked, deceptively quiet.
Nijinsky blew his smoke toward her. It was not a subtle gesture.
He resented being demoted and didn’t mind if she knew. “Because I
was using my other biots to train Billy, here.”
“For a month?”
Nijinsky shook his head. “Fuck you, Plath.”
Keats’s eyes narrowed angrily, but Plath remained cool. “A lot has
been asked of you, Jin. And you’ve endured a lot.”
“Endured,” he said, sneering at the word. “Yes, I’ve endured a lot.
A lot of enduring has gone on.”
“Why not have Anya generate a new biot and use it?”
Billy and Wilkes were watching the back-and-forth between the
two, like spectators at a tennis match. Vincent was elsewhere in his
mind. Keats was keeping still, irritated by Nijinsky, but accepting that
this was up to Plath to handle.
“Why not generate a new biot?” Nijinsky mocked. “When you
play Russian roulette, you put one bullet in the gun and spin the
chamber. Click .” He mimed shooting himself in the head. “A one-
in-six chance you’re dead. Two bullets? That’s a one-in-three chance.
Three? At that point it’s fifty-fifty. You know why not, Plath, so don’t give me that hard look. Vincent barely survived the loss of one biot.
Keats’s brother is shackled in a loony bin for losing two biots. You
want to hear what Burnofsky’s hearing? Tell Wilkes to do it. Or do it
yourself, Plath.”
Plath nodded. “Okay. Fair enough.”
“What are we doing?” Anya asked wearily. “What is this all
about anymore? The Armstrong attempt to control the president
55
MICHAEL GRANT
is obviously ended. And it seems the same is true of the Chinese
premier. The Twins are in hiding. Burnofsky has been wired and
switched sides. Bug Man is gone. What are we doing? Are we play-
ing a game? If so, what is our next move?”
“They still have the technology,” Plath said. “They will try again.
In some other way. They won’t give up.”
“How do we know that?” Anya demanded.
“They found Keats and me. They blew up the boat that was com-
ing to pick us up.”
“Convenient,
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