Blast Protocol

Chapter 32

SHILOH

Shiloh has to take a second to gather herself as she enters back into the garage in Mechanical. Mostly because of the first thing she sees. As someone who was raised Christian, the eeriness of the image is not lost on her. The way the Ruster is suspended, arms spread apart, head lolling. Unconscious. The near-spitting image of the crucifixion itself, only rather than flesh and blood, there is wiring, metal, and strange, flesh-like, wetly lubricated organs, glistening in the green-ish light from the lamps overhead.

An ill omen, if there ever was such a thing. If Shiloh believed in them.

Liam is right behind her, carrying some of the gear. He starts setting stuff on and next to the open shelf toward the back of the room, near the door. He nods to Shiloh, then heads back out through the open door, likely to help with the Walker, or assist with other preparations. Shiloh hears the door slide shut just after he exits through it.

"Whoah," Cade says, suddenly next to Shiloh. His red hair takes on a chestnut sheen in the subtly green light. His eyes rove over the tethered, suspended Ruster. "That's kinda screwed up."

"It's a machine, Cade," Shiloh says, though she's not sure who she's trying to convince more: Cade, or herself. She's here to extract information, and she doubts getting sentimental about the specimen in front of them will be of much help. It'll just be more mental noise, on top of everything else.

"A machine that feels," Cade says, clearly not getting the memo. "Think about how much pain it must be in, right now. Gavin must have used the access points to open it up into some kind of repair mode, while it was still conscious. Can you imagine? It's been forced to retreat into itself. Some process has taken over, a way to protect its 'mind' from being destroyed by the pain."

He cocks his head, seeming to notice something. He steps around the table, facing something. A circular, hanging object, opposite the Ruster.

"Shiloh, I think maybe you should see this."

No. I can't. I already have so much to worry about.

But her legs are already moving, curiosity overriding the more rational part of her mind. She skirts around the table and stands next to Cade. She looks at him questioningly, but he just points.

The object. It's...a mirror. Specifically adjusted so the Ruster would be able to see himself. As if Gavin was trying to rub reality in the machine's face. Confront the Biodroid with its own very apparent lack of...human-ness.

More than that, it's as if Gavin wanted the captive to be doubly aware of its own predicament. The pain. The hopelessness.

Shiloh turns away, a strange lump forming in her throat.

"What?" Cade says. "You don't think this matters? You don't think something should be done about this? I get that humans and Rusters—we're not the same. But this-"

"Not yet, Cade," Shiloh says. She runs a hand through her hair. It's loose, and it's become messy and frayed. She rummages in the pockets of her overalls, searching for her hairband.

"Because it's Gavin?" Cade says, turning to look at her. "I've seen what he gets away with. Sometimes even in regards to you. And you put up with a lot. You always try to maintain the status quo, because you think it will keep people safe. At some point, you're going to have to take a risk, with him. If you can't stand up for yourself, then what can you do for the rest of us?"

Shiloh pauses, a hand in each pocket. Her hair is a messy curtain, dangling down over one half of her face.

"And here I thought you were quiet," she says.