Free The Planet on the Table by Kim Stanley Robinson

eh?” Freya said.
    “Yes!”
    “Who put you here?”
    “I don’t know! I went out to meet you at the museum, and the last thing I remember I was in the garage there. When I came to, I was here.”
    “Does your head hurt?” I inquired.
    “Yes. Like I was gassed, though, not hit. But—the city—it just came over the horizon a short time ago. Perhaps we could dispense with discussion until I am freed?’
    “Relax,” Freya said, nudging one of the plates with her boot. “Are you sure you don’t know who did this, Arnold?”
    “Of course! That’s what I just said! Please, Freya, can’t we talk after I get loose?”
    “In a hurry, Arnold?” Freya asked.
    “But of course.”
    “No need to be too worried,” I assured him. “If we cannot free you, the cowcatchers will be out to pry you loose.” I tried lifting a plate, but could not move it. “Surely they will find a way—it’s their job, after all.”
    “True,” Arnold said.
    “Usually true,” said Freya. “Arnold is probably not aware that the cowcatchers have become rather unreliable recently. Some weeks ago a murderer tied his victim to a track just as you have been, Arnold, and then somehow disengaged the cowcatchers’ sensors. The unfortunate victim was shaved into molecules by one of the sleeves of the city. It was kept quiet to avoid any attempted repetitions, but since then the cowcatchers’ sensors have continued to function erratically, and two or three suicides have been entirely too successful.”
    “Perhaps this isn’t the best moment to tell us about this,” I suggested to Freya.
    Arnold choked over what I took to be his agreement.
    “Well,” Freya said, “I thought I should make the situation clear. Now listen, Arnold. We need to talk.”
    “
Please
,” Arnold said. “Free me first, then talk”
    “No, no—”
    “But Terminator is only a kilometer away!”
    “Your perspective from that angle is deceptive,” Freya told him. “The city is at least three kilometers away.”
    “More like two,” I said, as I could now make out individual rooftops under the Dawn Wall. In fact the city glowed like a big glass lamp and illuminated the entire landscape with a faint green radiance.
    “And at three point four kilometers an hour,” Freya said, “that gives us almost an hour, doesn’t it. So listen to me, Arnold. The Monet cathedral that you sold to Heidi is a fake.”
    “What?” Arnold cried, “It certainly is not! And I insist this isn’t the time—”
    “It is a fake. Now I want you to tell me the truth, or I will leave you here to test the cowcatchers.” She leaned over to stare down at Arnold face to face. “I know who painted the fake, as well.”
    Helplessly Arnold stared up at her.
    “He put you on the track here, didn’t he?”
    Arnold squeezed his eyes shut, nodded slowly. “I think so.”
    “So if you want to be let up, you must swear to me that you will abide by my plan for dealing with this forger. You
will
follow my instructions, understand?”
    “I understand.”
    “Do you agree?”
    “I agree,” Arnold said, forcing the words out. “Now let me up!”
    “All right.” Freya straightened.
    “How are we going to do it?” I asked.
    Freya shrugged. “I don’t know.”
    At this Arnold howled, he shouted recriminations, he began to wax hysterical—
    “Shut up!” Freya exclaimed. “You’re beginning to sound like a man who has made too many brightside crossings. These suction plates are little different from children’s darts.” She leaned down, grasped a plate, pulled up with all of her considerable strength. No movement. “Hmm,” she said thoughtfully.
    “Freya,” Arnold said.
    “One moment,” she replied, and walked back down the hump of the cylinder to the ladder tunnel, there to disappear down it.
    “She’s left me,” Arnold groaned. “Left me to be crushed.”
    “I don’t think so,” I said. “No doubt she has gone to the car to retrieve some useful implement.” I kicked