“The Feds are already too close.” Silas paced his studio apartment, talking apparently into thin air. “My landlord is identifying me as we speak, and I’d prefer not to remake my face a second time.” He subvocalized a command to Felix, scan the premise for any personal items that could assist the authorities in tracking and/or identifying me.
Then he continued his conversation via cellular epidermal. “There’s no more time for me to prove my work. Relocate me now. In three months, if you don’t like what you see, hand me over then.”
Silas glanced at the fire escape outside his window. “Yes, I can get out of the building.” He closed his eyes and smiled. “Good. You won’t regret your investment, I promise.” He dashed to the refrigerator—a clean, thirty-year-old unit. A single mason pint jar remained inside—full of protein smoothie. “I’ll meet you in the alley between 5th and Washington, behind the sandwich shop.”
Without any indication of ending the conversation, Silas shoved the jar into his backpack and opened the window leading to the fire escape.
As if reading his mind, Felix, a wetware computer implanted just below Silas’s ribcage, reported his analysis. Nothing incriminating remains except fingerprints on the refrigerator handle and the window.
Of course. Thank you, Felix.
Heavy footfalls echoed up the stairwell and into the hall outside Silas’s apartment. He’d chosen the building for its inexcusable lack of an elevator. Rushing to the refrigerator, he removed a cloth from his pocket and wiped down the handle. He did the same at the window before stepping onto the fire escape.
Without further warning, the door to his apartment shattered near the handle and bolt. It slammed off the wall as two men in flack jackets and blast visors burst into the room.
Silas hadn’t time to calculate his every movement with Felix’s precise assistance. But his instincts had been finely tuned over the last year of their growing relationship. Help as you are able. Silas spun and leapt over the railing. The bite of a 9mm caliber bullet into the flesh of his arm, followed by the shockwave of its discharge, indicated he’d moved nanoseconds in advance of what would have been a critical injury.
He struggled to adjust his movements based on the unknown loss of functionality in his left arm.
Grab the ladder.
Silas shot out his right hand immediately, as if the command had originated within his own central nervous system.
Hit the release.
He slammed his injured arm into the metal catch, popping it open just as his weight yanked the ladder downward.
Two more gunshots followed him out the window. One ricochetted off the metal railing above his head and buried in the brittle brick wall. The other shattered a window of the building across the alley. Silas focused on the approaching ground below.
Let go.
He followed Felix’s directives without question. Diesel fumes rushed upward as Silas fell the dozen feet to the cement walk. He landed on his feet, knees bent, and popped up. A horn blared. Staggering backwards, he bounced off the fender and grill of a delivery truck as it slammed on its brakes.
“Stop!” An FBI agent yelled from Silas’ third-floor window.
Using the delivery truck as a shield, Silas charged out the mouth of the alley and disappeared into a crush of rush-hour humanity.
That was close. Silas clutched his wounded arm. How much time until I lose consciousness at the current rate of blood loss?
Approximately fifty eight minutes.
Silas marveled at Felix’s development. Just a few days ago, the wetware computer would have given him the exact calculation down to the nanosecond. Now he had learned to filter his own results based on situation and relevance. While Felix was nowhere near as advanced as the neural networks Silas had developed for the league, his personal organic computer’s abilities were impressive. They would be sufficient to help him relaunch his work under the watchful eye of his new benefactors.
Today we begin anew, Felix. Some of the results will undoubtedly be regrettable, but the owners brought this on themselves. Silas tugged his bandana from his pocket. Using his teeth, he tied it tightly around the flesh wound to his left bicep. Based on inherent animal instinct, the mass of pedestrians created a slightly larger bubble around him than normal.
Turn right here.
Despite the burn in his arm, Silas grinned. Together, he and Felix were going to change the world.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
