trusts. You’re the only one who can give it to her.”
Javier stared at the bar. He was going to ask who Powell was working for, really, who had made this awful thing, and how it was coded or printed or whatever, but the question he settled on was: “Why would I want the woman I love to feel pain?”
Powell shut his eyes. He looked to be mastering himself, summoning patience from some interior reserve. “The pain isn’t constant. She’ll just react the way humans react.”
Javier arched one eyebrow in a way that he knew communicated deep skepticism. “So, she could failsafe me? If I saw this happen to her?”
Powell growled. “This is bigger than you and your pretend marriage!” He pulled something from his pocket. “Do you know what this is? Of course you don’t. It’s a Geiger counter. And the reason it’s making that noise is because this island is full of fissile material.”
Javier threw up his hands. “Oh, come on .” He started walking toward the house. “Now you’re just making shit up.”
“I’m not. The movement of these islands isn’t random, Javier. It never was. It maps over to the sites of sunken submarines, and sunken nukes.” Powell jogged to catch up to him, and unfolded his reader again. The map was there, in overlay. The dots scattered across it pulsed regularly. Red circles like bullseyes spread out from each of them. It all looked very menacing.
“You could have designed that,” Javier said. “You could have designed this whole thing as part of some fucked-up con job. You could be lying to me, right now.”
“But I’m not .” Powell positioned himself directly in front of Javier. “I’m not. She needs a check. She needs vulnerability. She’s playing out her own personal Heart of Darkness out here, and–”
“Her own what? ”
“It’s a book. It’s about someone with a god complex.”
“And someone having actual godlike power offends your religious sensibilities. Of course. It’s cool when it happens in a book, but the moment someone actually walks on water, you freak the fuck out.” Javier kept walking. “I’m not doing this. In fact, I’m going home, and I’m going to tell Amy what you’re here to do. And then, your shit will be completely–”
“I’ll kill myself.”
Javier’s vision froze, then juddered. He turned. Pixels hovered at the edges of Pastor Powell’s body like a disintegrating halo. He had opened his shirt. Under it, strapped to his chest, was a variety of small bricks. They looked like feedstock. But they probably weren’t.
“It’s old-fashioned, but it’s still the best way to go,” Powell said.
Javier swallowed. Pixel dust floated away from Powell’s arms as he gestured. It spiralled away into the safe nowhere three feet away from Powell’s body. It looked like an old videogame: all lines and blocks. Like his visual receptors were frantically trying to render this moment into harmless fiction. Not real. Just pretend. Can’t hurt you.
He told his legs to jump away. He told them to pound up from the ground and take him into the breeze and the botflies. But his bones felt just as hollow as they really were, and he felt the smoke that made up his muscles wafting this way and that, twitching against the conflicting commands. It was as though someone else were inside him, taking over. This was how Amy had felt with Portia. He was sure of it.
Oh, God. Amy. He could tell her. He could jump. Jump, and run, right now, and tell her.
And she would kill Powell.
Vertigo ripped through him. He fell down. He wanted to claw his way into the black earth. Let it swallow him whole. Disappear forever.
“The timer is already set,” Powell said. “The moment I touched the wrapper with my bare hands, I signalled a satellite above us. In… forty-seven minutes, that satellite will broadcast a signal detonating these explosives, and I will die.”
Javier reached up. He lunged. Powell danced away, neatly, like a boxer.
“This wiring
Javier stared at the bar. He was going to ask who Powell was working for, really, who had made this awful thing, and how it was coded or printed or whatever, but the question he settled on was: “Why would I want the woman I love to feel pain?”
Powell shut his eyes. He looked to be mastering himself, summoning patience from some interior reserve. “The pain isn’t constant. She’ll just react the way humans react.”
Javier arched one eyebrow in a way that he knew communicated deep skepticism. “So, she could failsafe me? If I saw this happen to her?”
Powell growled. “This is bigger than you and your pretend marriage!” He pulled something from his pocket. “Do you know what this is? Of course you don’t. It’s a Geiger counter. And the reason it’s making that noise is because this island is full of fissile material.”
Javier threw up his hands. “Oh, come on .” He started walking toward the house. “Now you’re just making shit up.”
“I’m not. The movement of these islands isn’t random, Javier. It never was. It maps over to the sites of sunken submarines, and sunken nukes.” Powell jogged to catch up to him, and unfolded his reader again. The map was there, in overlay. The dots scattered across it pulsed regularly. Red circles like bullseyes spread out from each of them. It all looked very menacing.
“You could have designed that,” Javier said. “You could have designed this whole thing as part of some fucked-up con job. You could be lying to me, right now.”
“But I’m not .” Powell positioned himself directly in front of Javier. “I’m not. She needs a check. She needs vulnerability. She’s playing out her own personal Heart of Darkness out here, and–”
“Her own what? ”
“It’s a book. It’s about someone with a god complex.”
“And someone having actual godlike power offends your religious sensibilities. Of course. It’s cool when it happens in a book, but the moment someone actually walks on water, you freak the fuck out.” Javier kept walking. “I’m not doing this. In fact, I’m going home, and I’m going to tell Amy what you’re here to do. And then, your shit will be completely–”
“I’ll kill myself.”
Javier’s vision froze, then juddered. He turned. Pixels hovered at the edges of Pastor Powell’s body like a disintegrating halo. He had opened his shirt. Under it, strapped to his chest, was a variety of small bricks. They looked like feedstock. But they probably weren’t.
“It’s old-fashioned, but it’s still the best way to go,” Powell said.
Javier swallowed. Pixel dust floated away from Powell’s arms as he gestured. It spiralled away into the safe nowhere three feet away from Powell’s body. It looked like an old videogame: all lines and blocks. Like his visual receptors were frantically trying to render this moment into harmless fiction. Not real. Just pretend. Can’t hurt you.
He told his legs to jump away. He told them to pound up from the ground and take him into the breeze and the botflies. But his bones felt just as hollow as they really were, and he felt the smoke that made up his muscles wafting this way and that, twitching against the conflicting commands. It was as though someone else were inside him, taking over. This was how Amy had felt with Portia. He was sure of it.
Oh, God. Amy. He could tell her. He could jump. Jump, and run, right now, and tell her.
And she would kill Powell.
Vertigo ripped through him. He fell down. He wanted to claw his way into the black earth. Let it swallow him whole. Disappear forever.
“The timer is already set,” Powell said. “The moment I touched the wrapper with my bare hands, I signalled a satellite above us. In… forty-seven minutes, that satellite will broadcast a signal detonating these explosives, and I will die.”
Javier reached up. He lunged. Powell danced away, neatly, like a boxer.
“This wiring
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