uniforms, one young resident physician who was on duty to deal with emergency admissions in a hospital too small to have an ER, two maintenance men, two security guards, and a building-systems engineer were in custody. Each sported a dime-sized silver hemisphere, the nailhead of a brain tap, in his or her left temple.
Members of the Community were not capable of wild flights of imagination or of hyperbole, so Chief Jarmillo reported only what was obvious to his five senses when he said, “The air seems thick with their fear.”
As instructed, seventeen of the prisoners were sitting on the floor with their backs against the walls. In some cases, their arms hung slack, hands limp on the floor, palms upturned. Others worried one white-knuckled hand with the other: wringing, pulling, clutching in quiet desperation.
Two of them were blank-eyed, as if oblivious of their situation, and one of those two drooled. Some eyes were fixed with dread, like the unwavering stares of small, tender animals in the sudden shadow of a grinning wolf. Some of the condemned glanced quickly from one fellow prisoner to another, from this wall to that, from ceiling to floor, here and there and here again, their eyes as twitchy as the eyes of dead-end alcoholics in the grip of delirium tremens, as if they were hallucinating insectile horrors everywhere they looked.
The uniform skirt worn by one of the nurses and the khaki pants of a security guard were discolored with urine. The air was likewise redolent of sour sweat.
One of the younger nurses lay flat on her back, arms at her sides, motionless. Blood pooled in her eyes.
“Hemorrhaging?” Chief Jarmillo asked.
Dr. Lightner said, “Yes.”
“A problem with the brain tap?”
“Yes. But the only one so far.”
“Is she alive?”
“She was for a while. Now she’s dead.”
“Carrion,” Jarmillo said.
Lightner nodded. “But still useful.”
“Yes. As useful as their kind has ever been.”
As they returned to the hallway, Dr. Lightner said, “The replicants of the night staff have gone home to their families. Soon they’ll oversee the replacement of their wives, husbands, children.”
“Where’s the day staff?”
Indicating the closed door to the next room along the hallway, Lightner said, “As the day staff, of course, there are more of them.”
“When will they be rendered?”
“Later this morning. The Builders arrive in about an hour.”
“How many patients currently in the hospital?”
“Eighty-nine.”
“When will you start moving them down here?”
“As they’re needed,” said Lightner, “but not before the swing shift has come to work and been replaced by replicants. Perhaps as early as five o’clock this afternoon.”
“That’s a long time.”
“But it’s per schedule.”
“What assistance do you need from me?” asked Jarmillo.
“Originally, I thought four deputies. Now, I think one will do.”
Jarmillo raised his eyebrows. “Only one?”
“Mostly as a liaison, to expedite the dispatch of other deputies if a crisis arises.”
“Evidently you don’t expect a crisis or any kind of difficulty.”
Lightner shook his head. “We’ve found them easy. Trusting. Submissive to authority even before a brain tap. Not like we thought Montanans might be.”
“We’ve found the same,” said Jarmillo. “So much for the Wild West. Everywhere now is a sheepfold.”
“We’ve started calling them two-legged lambs,” Lightner said. “We’ll easily have the whole town sheared by dawn Friday.”
With contempt as richly satisfying as his growing delight in the prospect of triumph, the chief said, “Sheared and butchered.”
chapter 14
The first to arrive, Erskine Potter parked his Ford pickup in a space marked RESERVED FOR THE BOSSMAN, which did not refer to his position in town government.
Serving as the mayor of Rainbow Falls was not a full-time job. Erskine Potter owned Pickin’ and Grinnin’ Roadhouse, a country-and-western
Members of the Community were not capable of wild flights of imagination or of hyperbole, so Chief Jarmillo reported only what was obvious to his five senses when he said, “The air seems thick with their fear.”
As instructed, seventeen of the prisoners were sitting on the floor with their backs against the walls. In some cases, their arms hung slack, hands limp on the floor, palms upturned. Others worried one white-knuckled hand with the other: wringing, pulling, clutching in quiet desperation.
Two of them were blank-eyed, as if oblivious of their situation, and one of those two drooled. Some eyes were fixed with dread, like the unwavering stares of small, tender animals in the sudden shadow of a grinning wolf. Some of the condemned glanced quickly from one fellow prisoner to another, from this wall to that, from ceiling to floor, here and there and here again, their eyes as twitchy as the eyes of dead-end alcoholics in the grip of delirium tremens, as if they were hallucinating insectile horrors everywhere they looked.
The uniform skirt worn by one of the nurses and the khaki pants of a security guard were discolored with urine. The air was likewise redolent of sour sweat.
One of the younger nurses lay flat on her back, arms at her sides, motionless. Blood pooled in her eyes.
“Hemorrhaging?” Chief Jarmillo asked.
Dr. Lightner said, “Yes.”
“A problem with the brain tap?”
“Yes. But the only one so far.”
“Is she alive?”
“She was for a while. Now she’s dead.”
“Carrion,” Jarmillo said.
Lightner nodded. “But still useful.”
“Yes. As useful as their kind has ever been.”
As they returned to the hallway, Dr. Lightner said, “The replicants of the night staff have gone home to their families. Soon they’ll oversee the replacement of their wives, husbands, children.”
“Where’s the day staff?”
Indicating the closed door to the next room along the hallway, Lightner said, “As the day staff, of course, there are more of them.”
“When will they be rendered?”
“Later this morning. The Builders arrive in about an hour.”
“How many patients currently in the hospital?”
“Eighty-nine.”
“When will you start moving them down here?”
“As they’re needed,” said Lightner, “but not before the swing shift has come to work and been replaced by replicants. Perhaps as early as five o’clock this afternoon.”
“That’s a long time.”
“But it’s per schedule.”
“What assistance do you need from me?” asked Jarmillo.
“Originally, I thought four deputies. Now, I think one will do.”
Jarmillo raised his eyebrows. “Only one?”
“Mostly as a liaison, to expedite the dispatch of other deputies if a crisis arises.”
“Evidently you don’t expect a crisis or any kind of difficulty.”
Lightner shook his head. “We’ve found them easy. Trusting. Submissive to authority even before a brain tap. Not like we thought Montanans might be.”
“We’ve found the same,” said Jarmillo. “So much for the Wild West. Everywhere now is a sheepfold.”
“We’ve started calling them two-legged lambs,” Lightner said. “We’ll easily have the whole town sheared by dawn Friday.”
With contempt as richly satisfying as his growing delight in the prospect of triumph, the chief said, “Sheared and butchered.”
chapter 14
The first to arrive, Erskine Potter parked his Ford pickup in a space marked RESERVED FOR THE BOSSMAN, which did not refer to his position in town government.
Serving as the mayor of Rainbow Falls was not a full-time job. Erskine Potter owned Pickin’ and Grinnin’ Roadhouse, a country-and-western
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