lab coat instead.
‘What’s it been doing?’
‘Clicking.’
‘Clicking?’
‘Yeah, every once in a while I hear, or maybe feel, this click. Each time it happens I get hit with some strange kind of flashback.’
‘What do you see?’
I shake my head. ‘I can’t remember.’
Tweek turns to one of his tablets and brings up several complex schematicsof the Ouija, bright blue images with white lettering denoting aspects of them. In the top corner of the screen I see my name: Keith C. Rhodes.
‘How long has it been giving you trouble?’ he asks, opening a drawer and retrieving a device that looks a little like my Liaison, but larger and more robust.
‘About a month now,’ I reply. ‘It’s only started to worry me in the last week or so. All theseback-to-back clients are wearing me thin. Maybe the Ouija took a bad knock or something in session.’
Tweek pulls a data cord out of the device and connects a proboscis to the end of it before passing it over to me. I slowly stab the needle into my head until the tip crunches into the Ouija. Tweek stares at his tablet screen, scrutinizing the stats that appear. Behind him, under a swing-arm magnifyingglass, I notice another dismantled Ouija lying in several pieces among the technological clutter on his desk. I point over his shoulder at the tiny machinery.
‘Been working on a new one, Tweek?’
Tweek turns to look at it, frowning again. ‘No, that’s Miller’s.’
‘Oh.’
‘I had to sneak into the city morgue and pull it out of his head before they performed an autopsy. They’re so busy down thereand his melon was so messed up, I doubt anyone will notice …’
He trails off, removes his thick-rimmed glasses off, rubs his eyes. Tweek won’t shed tears. I know him well enough to know that. He and Miller were the quintessential oddcouple, always bickering, forever picking on each other. The adorable little nerd, he’ll mourn the old Adonis in his own way, but not in front of me.
‘Sorry aboutMiller,’ I say.
‘Yeah,’ he snorts. ‘I am too.’
‘It was bound to happen some time,’ I say, regurgitating Baxter’s words.
‘It never would have happened if I’d ever been able to figure out and implement a fucking failsafe for you guys.’
I nod. ‘I guess we should all carry the Ejector pills on us or something –’
‘What the hell good would they do?’ Tweek snaps, giving me an angry look. ‘When wouldyou be in any position to take them when needed?’
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I was just thinking out loud.’
Tweek’s lip wobbles. ‘My apologies … I didn’t mean to bark at you. It’s just that I’m the one who is supposed to be protecting you guys …’
Tweek’s about to go on a tangent, I can tell. It’s important that I get him refocused and quick. I need him working on my current problem, the reception ofindistinct horrors in my head that I want to put a stop to.
‘It’s not your fault, Tweek. There’s nothing you could have done. We accept the risks when we sign on, so don’t go beating yourself up about it.’
More Baxter in my mouth and I hate the taste. It seems to appease Tweek enough to get cracking though. With a deep sigh he turns his attention back to his gear. Fingers dance over the tablet,implementing codes, executing commands. His eyes flick between the screen and thehandheld device as they communicate with a series of chirping noises. An HG unit activates on his desk and projects an image of my Ouija, sections of it highlighted and dissected as it rotates slowly. Beside the HG I notice a device I’ve never seen before, something in a cobalt-blue shell with small tools and circuitryscattered around it.
‘Running a full diagnostic now,’ Tweek says. ‘It’ll take a few minutes. Hand over your Liaison while you’re waiting. I want to make sure your software’s running smoothly too.’
I unlock the Liaison and surrender it. Tweek checks it out, running scans and tests on the sequencer program.
‘What’s it been doing?’
‘Clicking.’
‘Clicking?’
‘Yeah, every once in a while I hear, or maybe feel, this click. Each time it happens I get hit with some strange kind of flashback.’
‘What do you see?’
I shake my head. ‘I can’t remember.’
Tweek turns to one of his tablets and brings up several complex schematicsof the Ouija, bright blue images with white lettering denoting aspects of them. In the top corner of the screen I see my name: Keith C. Rhodes.
‘How long has it been giving you trouble?’ he asks, opening a drawer and retrieving a device that looks a little like my Liaison, but larger and more robust.
‘About a month now,’ I reply. ‘It’s only started to worry me in the last week or so. All theseback-to-back clients are wearing me thin. Maybe the Ouija took a bad knock or something in session.’
Tweek pulls a data cord out of the device and connects a proboscis to the end of it before passing it over to me. I slowly stab the needle into my head until the tip crunches into the Ouija. Tweek stares at his tablet screen, scrutinizing the stats that appear. Behind him, under a swing-arm magnifyingglass, I notice another dismantled Ouija lying in several pieces among the technological clutter on his desk. I point over his shoulder at the tiny machinery.
‘Been working on a new one, Tweek?’
Tweek turns to look at it, frowning again. ‘No, that’s Miller’s.’
‘Oh.’
‘I had to sneak into the city morgue and pull it out of his head before they performed an autopsy. They’re so busy down thereand his melon was so messed up, I doubt anyone will notice …’
He trails off, removes his thick-rimmed glasses off, rubs his eyes. Tweek won’t shed tears. I know him well enough to know that. He and Miller were the quintessential oddcouple, always bickering, forever picking on each other. The adorable little nerd, he’ll mourn the old Adonis in his own way, but not in front of me.
‘Sorry aboutMiller,’ I say.
‘Yeah,’ he snorts. ‘I am too.’
‘It was bound to happen some time,’ I say, regurgitating Baxter’s words.
‘It never would have happened if I’d ever been able to figure out and implement a fucking failsafe for you guys.’
I nod. ‘I guess we should all carry the Ejector pills on us or something –’
‘What the hell good would they do?’ Tweek snaps, giving me an angry look. ‘When wouldyou be in any position to take them when needed?’
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I was just thinking out loud.’
Tweek’s lip wobbles. ‘My apologies … I didn’t mean to bark at you. It’s just that I’m the one who is supposed to be protecting you guys …’
Tweek’s about to go on a tangent, I can tell. It’s important that I get him refocused and quick. I need him working on my current problem, the reception ofindistinct horrors in my head that I want to put a stop to.
‘It’s not your fault, Tweek. There’s nothing you could have done. We accept the risks when we sign on, so don’t go beating yourself up about it.’
More Baxter in my mouth and I hate the taste. It seems to appease Tweek enough to get cracking though. With a deep sigh he turns his attention back to his gear. Fingers dance over the tablet,implementing codes, executing commands. His eyes flick between the screen and thehandheld device as they communicate with a series of chirping noises. An HG unit activates on his desk and projects an image of my Ouija, sections of it highlighted and dissected as it rotates slowly. Beside the HG I notice a device I’ve never seen before, something in a cobalt-blue shell with small tools and circuitryscattered around it.
‘Running a full diagnostic now,’ Tweek says. ‘It’ll take a few minutes. Hand over your Liaison while you’re waiting. I want to make sure your software’s running smoothly too.’
I unlock the Liaison and surrender it. Tweek checks it out, running scans and tests on the sequencer program.
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