Let the Goats Try
Charisse
wouldn't walk on the new carpet, said it felt too much like grass.
Nate could talk all he wanted about oxygen production, leaf-blade
adjustment, stomatal dilation, and so on. It didn't matter; the
stuff made her feet itch. Which is why they were in the back seat of
a rented flyer hovering 2 m above the old Riverfront Park when a
stretch of carpet in a well-traveled hallway at l'Hรดpital
Charles de Gaulle in Paris went rogue. The carpet had assimilated
home-grown subroutines from the fallen wing covers of insurgent
arthrobots. The insectoids, AWOL from a corporate war the previous
year, finally had been wiped out by a tailored virus. The global
power and communication grid was well protected, but no one had
thought to monitor carpets. There was carpet everywhere. The
transition from self-repairing floor covering to green commando was
almost instantaneous and, consequently, devastating.
--
The
recorded voice said "This transport device requires emergency
service" and went dead. The flyer bounced off a large crepe
myrtle and crushed a recycling bin.
"Ow,"
Charisse said.
"Sorry."
and "What happened? These can't fail." That didn't
seem to call for a response.
Nate
managed to kick one door open. Bruised, but no worse, they
disentangled and climbed up out of the flyer. The wreck was leaking
something pink that smelled of hot plastic. Nate shaded his eyes and
looked around. Smoke rose from the power plant on the other side of
the river.
"Crap."
"Flyers
run on broadcast, don't they," Charisse said, following his
gaze.
Nothing
but birds moved in the sky, their phones were dead, and they were 30
miles from the lot where they'd rented the flyer. Something called
out. A cardinal? "I'm _so_ ready to get out of here," Nate
said.
"That
might be a problem."
After
a few minutes, they started walking.
--
The
emerald city shone, a myriad tiny vanes tracking the sun, roots
draining batteries and reservoirs, bioelectric networks running
simulations, optimizing.
Publ. Daily Cabal, 2010
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