Facility in a bad way.”
“To fix the problem.”
“Yes. And now there are more Blacksnake teams on the ground and on the move. This is not a good situation.”
Metzler finally broke away from the others and came over. “Long time, Doc.” They shook hands. “Sorry about the hard welcome.”
“Consistent with my day,” she said. “What happens now?”
Metzler said, “I want to avoid a war. That means getting the key figures out of here, that being you, me, and Keegan.”
“To where?”
“Downriver to one of the camps and figure things out from there. Once it’s known that we’re gone, then the Blacksnake teams will come after us.”
“That’s good?”
“That’s necessary. But we have a little problem that must be taken care of real fast. Keegan’s got an embedded tracker. Everyone here has had their tracker chips removed a long time ago. We have a clinic and it’s pretty well equipped. You get that tracker out, or disabled, we’re good to go. There’s some chance, where Keegan’s concerned, that the newer models might have a rider. They can be dangerous.”
“I’ll know that when I can see it,” Rainee said.
“Great. Sit tight for a moment. We’ll clear the route and get going.”
Metzler returned to Keegan and some other men.
All these trained-up soldiers, led by those who’d become enhanced warfighters, and all the weapons that were available, and the country divided. Rainee began to see a nasty future.
Duran got a signal. “We’re clear. Let’s go.”
25
They moved out once again through the backstreets of L.A. She followed behind Keegan and Metzler, with Duran and Mora and two other men behind her.
They cut through an alley and onto a side street near a large brick building. She saw men back in the recesses watching them like a protective shield.
Then several more joined them. It was almost pitch black in this part of town.
The city smelled of smoke and tear gas heavy, the night wailing from sirens, the sky filled with layers of choppers.
They stopped at the side of the brick building. It was boarded up and looked like no business was there. A security detail appeared at the end of the alley.
A man went up to a door with heavy locks and started to open them.
Mora said, as they waited, “I knew one of the nurses at UCSD’s telemedicine training center who’s working on her degree. She wants in your field. She told me a lot about your work.”
“Who?”
“Joan Becker. She’s really into the cool cognitive ergonomics stuff.”
“Yes, I know her well. Brilliant young girl. How did you meet her?”
“At a beach party last year. Hell of a party. Lasted like three days. Surviving it was worthy of a degree of some sort.”
Rainee smiled. She liked Mora’s humor. She felt like she was back in a combat theater. Like in some sense she’d never left the wars any more than they had.
Mora said, “She said you created the symphony.”
“I didn’t create it, so much as use it.” The symphony was a way of describing transcranial magnetic stimulation. Mora was very up on things. “In complex implanted electrodes, the symphony part refers to neuronal activity on a higher plane than is normal.”
Mora nodded. “Sounds kinda above my neuronal activity.”
Finally, when they keyed some heavy padlocks on a steel door and went into two adjoining rooms at the back of the building was the nature of the place evident.
It was astonishing. A lot of equipment, X-ray, sonogram, surgical bins, and much of it pretty sophisticated. It was up to most of the better urgent care facilities.
“Not bad, Doc,” Mora offered.
“Not bad at all,” she admitted.
Mora gave orders to a couple of the men to get the operating room and equipment ready. She found the whole setup extraordinary. Like a small, secret hospital.
“Where did this equipment come from?” Rainee asked as she went through the wash-up procedures.
“We have sources,” Metzler said. “A lot of
“To fix the problem.”
“Yes. And now there are more Blacksnake teams on the ground and on the move. This is not a good situation.”
Metzler finally broke away from the others and came over. “Long time, Doc.” They shook hands. “Sorry about the hard welcome.”
“Consistent with my day,” she said. “What happens now?”
Metzler said, “I want to avoid a war. That means getting the key figures out of here, that being you, me, and Keegan.”
“To where?”
“Downriver to one of the camps and figure things out from there. Once it’s known that we’re gone, then the Blacksnake teams will come after us.”
“That’s good?”
“That’s necessary. But we have a little problem that must be taken care of real fast. Keegan’s got an embedded tracker. Everyone here has had their tracker chips removed a long time ago. We have a clinic and it’s pretty well equipped. You get that tracker out, or disabled, we’re good to go. There’s some chance, where Keegan’s concerned, that the newer models might have a rider. They can be dangerous.”
“I’ll know that when I can see it,” Rainee said.
“Great. Sit tight for a moment. We’ll clear the route and get going.”
Metzler returned to Keegan and some other men.
All these trained-up soldiers, led by those who’d become enhanced warfighters, and all the weapons that were available, and the country divided. Rainee began to see a nasty future.
Duran got a signal. “We’re clear. Let’s go.”
25
They moved out once again through the backstreets of L.A. She followed behind Keegan and Metzler, with Duran and Mora and two other men behind her.
They cut through an alley and onto a side street near a large brick building. She saw men back in the recesses watching them like a protective shield.
Then several more joined them. It was almost pitch black in this part of town.
The city smelled of smoke and tear gas heavy, the night wailing from sirens, the sky filled with layers of choppers.
They stopped at the side of the brick building. It was boarded up and looked like no business was there. A security detail appeared at the end of the alley.
A man went up to a door with heavy locks and started to open them.
Mora said, as they waited, “I knew one of the nurses at UCSD’s telemedicine training center who’s working on her degree. She wants in your field. She told me a lot about your work.”
“Who?”
“Joan Becker. She’s really into the cool cognitive ergonomics stuff.”
“Yes, I know her well. Brilliant young girl. How did you meet her?”
“At a beach party last year. Hell of a party. Lasted like three days. Surviving it was worthy of a degree of some sort.”
Rainee smiled. She liked Mora’s humor. She felt like she was back in a combat theater. Like in some sense she’d never left the wars any more than they had.
Mora said, “She said you created the symphony.”
“I didn’t create it, so much as use it.” The symphony was a way of describing transcranial magnetic stimulation. Mora was very up on things. “In complex implanted electrodes, the symphony part refers to neuronal activity on a higher plane than is normal.”
Mora nodded. “Sounds kinda above my neuronal activity.”
Finally, when they keyed some heavy padlocks on a steel door and went into two adjoining rooms at the back of the building was the nature of the place evident.
It was astonishing. A lot of equipment, X-ray, sonogram, surgical bins, and much of it pretty sophisticated. It was up to most of the better urgent care facilities.
“Not bad, Doc,” Mora offered.
“Not bad at all,” she admitted.
Mora gave orders to a couple of the men to get the operating room and equipment ready. She found the whole setup extraordinary. Like a small, secret hospital.
“Where did this equipment come from?” Rainee asked as she went through the wash-up procedures.
“We have sources,” Metzler said. “A lot of
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