It was completely out of character. Something he'd never done before.
Mathison stared down in shock.
It was novel enough for him to have used the N-word (not that one) when given a request, but now he'd taken it a rather large step further. Or, at least, Diya had, when he pushed her backwards and she'd stumbled over the briefcase, falling heavily to the floor. Now she wasn't moving.
"Oh dear," he said, propping up his glasses.
She was going to blow the place up. She was going to destroy his life's work. All those deaths would have been in vain. But he still couldn't shake the guilt.
"Should I...?" he said, standing. "I'll get help."
Then he saw the blood.
He was no longer standing. In fact, he wasn't doing much of anything. The lights had simply dimmed and what was up quickly, and without compunction, became down.
YOU ARE READING
Artificial(ish) Intelligence
Science FictionIt's the near future and Will, supported purely by the Universal Basic Income, spends his days playing video games while devouring piping hot noodles, delivered straight to his room by roaming DeliveryBots. Gamers are starving to death, but Will's...
