man to step inside without crouching crackled in the distance. It suddenly became clear to him that the room was meant to be soothing. “So. You’re the shrink.”
The man smiled at the assertion. “I’m afraid not. I probably know less about human psychology than anyone in this facility, though I am very well read on the subject. No, I am only here because I’m very good with facts and can answer your questions. In addition, the fact that you don’t know me should minimize your emotional responses , a t least in theory.”
Craig listened, then sighed, putting his head in his hands. He was still inside the nightmare. “What facility are you talking about?” he asked resignedly. It was obvious that whoever it was who was pulling the strings wasn’t going to let him see Samantha, yet he wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to find some answers.
“You’re inside a bunker built into the base of Mount Andromeda in the Canadian Rockies. This facility was constructed by a team of engineers and researchers, a team led by Professor Aldous Gibson. It is a safe haven from the world government and their super soldier program. The super soldiers hunt down anyone suspected of developing strong artificial intelligence.”
“So, this facility is illegal?”
“Yes. Very much so. It is fair to say that the people who inhabit this facility are the most wanted criminals in the world.”
There was something about the man’s frank assessment of the situation that caused an even more unsettled feeling to stir within Craig. There wasn’t a hint of guilt or indignation from the man: only emotionless fact. There was no sugar in his tone to help the bitter pill go down. “Why am I here?” Craig asked. “I don’t understand.”
“Samantha Gibson,” the man began, but he stopped when he saw the painful grimace her name brought to Craig’s face. “I’m sorry. I shall try to be more sensitive. Samantha took possession of your body once it was recovered from Maluan Mountain. You were in suspended animation, and she conjectured that it might someday be possible to repair the terrible damage that had been done to you—that she could reanimate you.”
“Then why did she marry someone else?” Craig interjected, his teeth clenched as he squeezed the words free.
“I cannot speak for what is in another’s heart,” the man replied. “They married eight years ago. At that time, the technology to reanimate you was far from certain. Perhaps she didn’t really believe she would ever see you again.”
Craig jumped to his feet, grunting in frustration as he grappled with the notion that his wife was with another man. “Goddamn it!” he cursed as he balled his hands into tight fists and squeezed hard with fury. The green sparks suddenly ignited once again. Craig’s mouth opened in surprise, and he immediately opened his hand, relaxing the muscles and causing the sparks to disappear. “Okay. Okay. What the hell is that?” he stammered. “What’s with the fireworks?”
“That was a magnetic field. You generated it with your mind.”
“What the hell?”
The man smiled but bowed his head sheepishly so as not to maintain eye contact for too long. “My friend, you are no mere mortal any longer. Like everyone else in this facility, you’ve taken a first giant leap beyond being human. You are post-human. ”
“What the hell?” Craig repeated.
“Post-human. It’s what the Purists like to call us. It was meant as derogatory, but we’ve adopted the term with affection. Would you like to know more?” the man asked, turning toward the exit and gesturing for Craig to follow him.
“Yes.”
“Then come with me, and I will show you.”
4
The man led Craig into a cream-colored room at the end of a long, fluorescent-lighted corridor. Various large pieces of machinery populated the room, and there was an audible electric buzz in the air that gave Craig the feeling that it was a room he wouldn’t like to remain in