“Odds don’t change whether he’s with us or not,” Harry said with a shrug. “Too negligible.”
“Best of luck, folks,” Phinneus said, and he hefted his rifle, his six shooter on his hip. “I’m sure you’ll get it done.” He glanced at Harry, who shrugged again. “And if not, I guess we’ll all be on the same team again soon enough anyway.” He headed out the front door, not bothering to close it behind him.
“Do I need to come along?” Veronika asked, looking at Harry. “Do the odds change measurably if I don’t go? Just curious, because I don’t like pointless fights. I’ve got other things I could be doing.”
“Like sewing,” I said.
Veronika shot me a frown. “How did you know I like to sew?”
“That was … such a wild guess,” I said. “I was totally joking.”
“Odds are tough to gauge on this,” Harry said, peering into the empty air in front of him in total concentration.
“Why is that?” Kat asked. She glanced at me. “I mean, I’m in no matter what, I’m just … curious.”
Harry blinked a few times, like he was coming back to himself. “Well, you know, when you get into the tenths of percents, it’s hard to—” He froze then cringed, like he’d looked so far into the future he hadn’t realized what he was doing in the now. “Ahhh … I mean …”
“Shit,” Colin said, his head tilting back. “So basically … what we’re doing here is so unlikely to see success … that we might as well not even go at all?”
Harry looked stricken, but the cat was out of the bag now. “It’s … really tough odds,” he said, and I could feel the mood in the room fall as it settled on everyone that we basically had no chance at all of winning this fight, no matter what we did.
81.
“… I hope you get this message in time,” I said into the phone. “I know it’s asking a lot of you, but … there’s a lot on the line, so …” I didn’t know what else to say, so I just said, “Thanks. Bye,” and hung up.
“Man, the hopelessness in this place is so thick I could cut it with a plastic spoon,” Steven Clayton said, leaning against the door to the back deck. Frost was on the grass down below, shining in the morning sun where it hadn’t melted yet.
“Well, that’s what happens when the guy who can read the future tells you that you’re pretty likely to be mind-controlled by the president no matter what you do,” I said, slipping my phone back in my pocket. “It’s not exactly inspiring.”
“I could probably still do the St. Crispin’s Day speech if you feel like the troops need motivating,” Steven said with a wry smile.
“Dunno how much that’d help, honestly, given that three of the troops don’t really hold manhood at all, to say nothing of cheap,” I said, showing off my Shakespeare. “Points for being classically trained, though.”
“I actually like theater,” Steven said. “A lot of my generation of actors don’t, but … I like going up on stage, finding the character and getting in there night after night. Sometimes you find something different depending on the performance.” He put both elbows on the deck railing and leaned over next to me. “I imagine Harmon’s not going to spend a lot of time digging deep into our skulls to discover the individual nuance and character unique to all of us.”
“With seven billion heads to command,” I said, “I’d imagine he’s not. He seems like a real top-down, big-picture kind of guy. A damn the torpedoes, on to the next problem kind of fellow.”
“That’s the problem with politics nowadays,” Steven said, musing as he stared out into the backyard, the tall pines clustered behind the rental house. He must have caught my mildly curious stare. “It’s all grand proclamations and policy prescriptions from on high. He’s never talked about the trade-offs inherent in his solutions.”
“You mean like the downsides to mind-controlling the entire world?”
“Yeah, that’s kind of a big trade-off for world peace,” Steven said with a fair helping of irony. “Feels like that ought to be discussed in committee or debated in Congress before it gets implemented, you know?”
“Pretty sure taking over peoples’ minds is a violation of due process,” I said. “Not that it matters, I suppose, since I’ve violated all manner of constitutional rights in my day, but …”
“But you’re not the president,” he said. “And, generally speaking, you did it to people who were violating the rights of others anyway—taking away their life, liberty or property. Not saying fair’s fair, but … there were considerations. If Harmon’s really going to do it to the whole world …” He made a kind of hissing noise. “Ugh. We’re not even people anymore if he does this. We’re one massive organism with its will subverted to whatever he wants.” He snorted mirthlessly. “It’s like that joke about if you’re not the lead dog, the scenery never really changes.”
“Yeah, it’s gonna be all dog ass from here on.”
Steven chuckled, then the laughter died. “Seriously … what do you think he’s going to do once he has this power?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “I met him once, and my read was that he’s a massive dick. Maybe he believes he really can rule better, which would not be unusual for people seeking his office. Maybe he wants to work through his control issues with the world as his canvas. Or maybe he’s just sick of not being able to unilaterally ram whatever hare-brained solution he’s got churning in his head this week through a divided Congress. I’m not a mind reader, so I don’t couldn’t tell you.”
“I think he’s a true believer,” Steven said. “Or a really great actor, I don’t rule that out. But I think he believes he’s got the answers—”
“And the rest of us are too stupid to steer our own lives?”
Steven’s head wobbled. “I would concede that point in at least a few cases.”
“Yeah, I’m sure his central-planning concept for solving all our problems is gonna work out super swell,” I said, doing a little leaning over myself. Harry had warned me that we needed to leave in a certain window in order to maintain even the small chance of success we currently enjoyed, but we had a little time yet, and within that window there was no appreciable change to the odds. Which meant I had no particular hurry moving me forward right this second. “Because Gerry Harmon surely knows what a herdsman in Mongolia needs, and what a farmer in a Mississippi needs, and what a shopkeeper in Abu Dhabi needs—”
“He could,” Steven conceded. “If he’s really able to read all those minds—”
“That’s the ultimate arrogance,” I said. “It’s the reason we’re all going to become zombies if this plan goes through, you get that, right? It’s because in order to solve all the world’s problems, we have to sublimate ourselves to the greater good.” I murmured it, chantlike, straight out of Hot Fuzz, “The greater good, the greater good.”
“Hey, I’m not signing up for his convenient, one-thought-fits-all plan,” Steven said. “Just trying to work through the motivation here.”
“The motivation is the same as it’s been for every other petty tyrant that’s risen up in pursuit of power while telling himself he’s an altruist,” I said, my hackles fully raised. I was ready to kick Gerry Harmon’s presidential ass right now, if it presented itself. “Because he knows better than us plebes how to run our lives, clearly, and he’s going to prove that point. We’re dumb, he’s smart. We’re unsophisticated, know-nothing idiots, and he’s got all the answers to what ails us. He’s going to fix the world, and all we have to do is stand back and let him rope us into the solution. No more dissonance,” I said, “no more disagreement, no more argument. We will march in lockstep, like a hive-mind, with no rejection of thought tolerated. He won’t even allow us to have our own minds to rebel, don’t you see? No chance of thoughtcrime when he controls your thoughts.”
“That’s a grim picture,” Steven said.
“It’s the death of self,” I said, “in pursuit of forced selflessness. Except it’s not selfless when you’re forced to do it any mor
e than it’s charity if I steal from you and give to the poor.”
“Damn you, Robin Hood.”
“I’m serious,” I said. “The end is the same, but how we get there means a hell of a lot.”
“Clearly not to Harmon,” Steven said.
“Why would it matter to him?” I mused. “He’s not the one utterly losing himself to pull this off. He doesn’t have to deal with the consequences of having his own desires erased in order to accommodate the hive-mind. He still sits at the top of the food chain, dictating down to the rest of us. He could kill ten million people—starve them to death, whatever—in order to meet the greater good need, and he’d probably consider it an acceptable losses. He’s not dealing with us as people. We’re just cogs in his machine.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Steven asked. “I mean … you do have a plan, right?” He eased a little closer to me, and I remembered how he’d made overtures when last we’d met.
“A few,” I said. “I don’t leave home without a plan or at least some ideas to improvise with.” I shot him a look. “You’re staying behind, by the way. Perugini and Abigail need someone to watch after them.”
“I don’t think Abigail is going to need my supervision,” he said, “but I’ll take them home with me, hunker down until this thing … goes whichever way it goes.”
“Thanks for not pushing back on this,” I said, not really wanting to look at him.
“Oh, I don’t know how much good I’d do in a flat-out meta fight—or whatever you’re waltzing into,” he said, and lowered his voice. “I’m just … glad I got a chance to see you again.”
“Oh,” I said lamely. “Well … you’re seeing me now.”
“I am.” His arm was brushing mine. “Did I tell you I really like the punk look you’ve adopted?”
“She stole that from me!” Abigail shouted from inside. I didn’t even know she was listening, but I turned and saw her just inside the door, pacing back and forth with a bag slung over her shoulder. “And, uh … I’m totally fine with going back to Cali, because I do not want to get squashed in a meta battle before I get my mind jacked.”
“Way to keep your priorities straight,” I shouted back.
“Hey, at least if I get mind-jacked I can come back out of it later,” Abigail said, turning to head for the front door, bag over her shoulder. “Kind of tough for a human to recover from squashing.”
“The lady makes a point,” Steven said. “Still … if you needed extra help …”
“I’ve called in some favors,” I said. “Taneshia and Jamal are already on a plane to DC, they’ll meet us there. And I … did some other stuff, too.” I kept this vague in case somehow Steven got captured. It wasn’t likely, but Operational Security was pretty paramount when you were dealing with tenths of a percentage for success margins.
“I hope so,” he said, and I caught Harry waving me in. “Looks like you’re out of time.”
“Not yet,” I said, and looked up into his eyes. “I, uh …”
“You’re going to do it,” he said, without a trace of hesitation. “You’ll win. I know you will.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Why is that?”
“You’re Sienna Nealon,” he said in a very offhand manner. “The bad guys haven’t beaten you yet.”
“But … that could mean I’m due,” I said, fumbling for words.
“Nah,” he said.
“You sure about that?” I didn’t see how he could be; maybe just good acting.
“I’m sure,” he answered, lightning fast, and with a depth of conviction that raised my eyebrows almost to my hairline. Or what was left of it after shaving the sides of my head.
“Harmon’s a pretty smart guy,” I said, “and he’s got Cassidy Ellis on his side. They’re like … miles smarter than me. And I’m not just saying that because that’s a crappy metaphor. Cassidy’s the smartest person on the planet, and Harmon …” I shuddered slightly. “Every newscaster and interviewer swears he’s the most brilliant mind on the planet, which I guess means I’m doubly screwed in terms of the brains arrayed against me.”
“Maybe he’s not that smart,” Steven said with a shrug. “He knows what people want to hear, after all, and he knows … everything about them if he’s talking to them. I mean, you’re right, maybe he is blindingly intelligent and you really are just totally screwed, but … so far, he seems to me like the rest of us: he does some smart things and some dumb things, because it’s really hard to tell which is which when you’re in the heat of the moment sometimes. You’re still standing here, after all.” He smiled.
That was not an unreasonable point. “What if he beats me?” I asked, letting that little fear squeak out.
“Well, then we’re all pretty well cooked, so … it’s all upside from where I’m sitting,” Steven chuckled. “The worst that can happen is what the odds makers say is going to happen, so … working back from that, if you snatch victory from the jaws of defeat … kudos to you.”
“I don’t like to lose,” I said sourly.
“Then don’t,” Steven said.
“It’s not quite that easy.”
“I don’t know how meta fights go,” he said, “but it seems to me you’ve really only got one advantage here, since … the whole world is almost against you.”
“Oh, I have an advantage? Do tell.”
“It’s you, silly,” he said, smiling. “You keep kicking the ass of everyone that comes at you. Yeah, this is a new thing, I’ll admit, someone taking over all the minds in the world, but … you haven’t quit yet. You haven’t lost yet. And he’s just … waiting there to get his ass kicked. Killed,” Steven amended. “Because you’re probably going to have to kill him. I hate to be an ass, but … this is kinda your wheelhouse, all the way.”
“You’re not wrong,” I said. Harry appeared at the massive window, gesturing with a finger across his neck. I frowned at him, and he jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the universal sign for “Let’s GTFO!”
“You’re going to get clear of this, you know,” Steven said, startling me away from looking at Harry, who was now doing some sort of mime involving an invisible noose around his neck. “You’ll save the world, clear your name. Everything will be back to normal before you know it.”
“You sure about that?” I asked, as Harry did a full body shudder that was either him faking getting electrocuted or getting his prostate checked. It wasn’t clear.
“Of course I am,” Steven said. “You’re a hero. It’s what you do. I just hope …” Here he went sort of shy. “… I just hope I get to see you again afterwards—” He turned around and finally caught sight of Harry. “What … the hell is that?”
“His impression of a man getting beaten up by a bunch of invisible assailants, I think.” Harry was gyrating. “I better go before he launches into his impression of being trapped in an invisible box.”
Steven chuckled. “You can do this, Sienna.”
“I’ll try,” I said, as I turned to leave.
“Then you’ll win,” he said, another vote of confidence in an ocean of them.
I didn’t turn around for that one, though, because what else was there to say?
82.
I stared out the window of the chartered Gulfstream at the dusty plains of South Dakota. I really didn’t care much for South Dakota, at least not in the middle. The west end, with the Black Hills, was beautiful. The east end … less so, but still geographically somewhat distinct. The middle, though …
The middle of the Dakotas was a giant stretch of dusty prairie that didn’t look that different from a desert to me. Sunrise could be beautiful there, and sunset could be gorgeous, but the middle of the day was a one-star shitshow of the sort that even the Iowa State Fair wouldn’t have invited into its grounds. (I hate Iowa, so this says a lot.)
“Yay,” Veronika said without enthusiasm. “We’re flying off to fight the president of the United States, who is an incredibly powerful telepath who could pr
obably make us all into his personal sex monkeys.” She paused, thinking that over, then gave it a shrug that I didn’t want to interpret.
“Eww,” Kat said so I didn’t have to.
“Maybe he’s going to do good things with the power,” Colin said hopefully, twitching in his seat. I could tell he was wishing he’d run to Washington. Or maybe that he was wishing he’d run to the other Washington, the one he called home. “Maybe he’s going to save the world.”
“I’m sure he thinks so,” I said. These lunatics always thought they were doing something good for the world—unless they were so locked into selfishness that they were certain the world was their enemy. That was pretty rare, though. Once you got to a certain level of grandiosity, they almost always thought they were doing the world a favor as they racked it up.
“Yeah,” Harry said like he was some kind of authority, “there is a certain scale of plan that requires a mind that thinks they’re doing a world of good.” He shot me a sly grin, telling me he’d once again stolen the words that were about to come right out of my mouth. “Asshole,” he mimicked, stealing my most probable reply.
“I was going to say—”
“Ooh, salty,” he said, pursing his lips at me. Well, I couldn’t say it now; he’d both stolen my thunder and seemed to enjoy it.
“So, we’ve gotta fight Reed, Scott, and Augustus, too, right?” Kat asked.
“And Friday, presumably,” I said. “Plus the surviving members of that merc team or whatever that joined them.”
“Tell me they’re a B team,” Veronika said.
“Harry, Colin and I beat their asses pretty good, so … yeah,” I said. “They’re probably not going to be too bad. We just need to make sure we don’t kill Augustus, Reed, Scott …”
“Everyone else is fair game for killing, though, right?” Veronika asked, looking mildly concerned. “Because these hands?” She held up her perfectly manicured hands. “They don’t do nonlethal.”
Unyielding (Out of the Box Book 11) Page 26