Mardock Scramble

–All air traffic has been cut off! Boiled has put in a thousand different investigation requests to the aviation authorities!

Balot heard the Doctor’s voice shouting down the cell phone in frustration. “Investigating the airways? What’s he playing at?” asked Oeufcoque.

–It’s not the investigations themselves that are important. He’ssent in aerial camera crews, weather balloons, that sort of thing, so as to block off all the flight paths. Humpty can’t get permission to enter any airspace on safety grounds. I can exercise my rights as a Trustee to get them out of the area, but it’ll take time for the messages to get through. Too much time. We’ve fallen right into his trap. What do we do?

“We prepare to defend ourselves and try to escape. What else is there? Even if the police were to come to our aid, there’s no guarantee that we’d be able to keep Shell to ourselves. If OctoberCorp has its way, Shell will be shot dead on the spot. There’s nothing else to do—we have to protect Shell,” Oeufcoque said, as businesslike as possible.

Balot could tell, though, that Oeufcoque was worried—and suffering for it. She listened to the conversation, tuning in to Oeufcoque’s feelings as he spoke to the Doctor in the form of a cell phone in her hands.

She sensed Boiled moving toward them somewhere outside the building. He would stop now and then to touch the building, and every time he did so Balot felt it as keenly as if it were her own body he was touching. He was closing in on them, like a grand master seeking out the opening that would allow him to checkmate.

Oeufcoque and the Doctor conversed quickly now. Oeufcoque kept a level head throughout. At no point did he even consider the possibility of giving up the case. This saved Balot—and gave her an answer to the question What should I do?

Outside the building, Boiled was moving in a peculiar way, cutting off their escape routes as he closed in.

There was only one of him. There should have been any number of ways they could have run. And yet there was no escape route. It was as if they were surrounded by an army of a hundred.

This was another answer to Balot’s question.

–I’ll protect us all.

Oeufcoque and the Doctor fell silent as Balot snarced the phone.

–How long until you can get here, Doctor?

–Two hours should be—no, I’ll make it there in an hour. Believe me.

–Sure. I believe you. I won’t run away.

–No, no, if it gets too dangerous then please do run away. I’m begging you.

–All right.

–I’m trusting in you, Balot, Oeufcoque. I’ll be there to pick you up as soon I can.

The conversation ended and the display on the cell phone went blank. Balot placed it on the floor.

“What exactly are you planning?”

–Please, help me with this.

Balot snarced her bodysuit to speak to Oeufcoque.

Shell had received rudimentary first aid—he was bandaged up and laid out on the concrete floor at Balot’s feet.

He looked almost like a mummy. He was trussed up in bandages, gauze, and ropes that bound his arms and legs. All Made by Oeufcoque.

Perhaps due to the magnitude of the memories that had just been crammed back into his mind, Shell showed no sign of moving or regaining consciousness.

He might have been drowning in a sea of dreams from his murky past, but his face was tranquil as he slept. Balot felt a pang of relief—perhaps it was true. Now that he had his memories back, his murderous urges might finally subside.

Balot knelt down to pick up Shell, who was as limp as a rolled-up carpet. Oeufcoque helped her. Here and there her bodysuit turned into a metal exoskeleton to support Shell’s weight.

Balot propped the sleeping Shell over her shoulder and went to the garbage disposal chute in one corner of the room. Checking first that there was no shredder or pulverizer at the other end, she lifted Shell’s body into the opening, holding on to him by the lapel of his shirt.

“Aren’t you going to let him go?”

–Not yet.

Oeufcoque realized immediately what Balot meant by this. He was genuinely impressed.