Free The Dog Said Bow-Wow by Michael Swanwick

Lizzie,” Consuelo said. “We really are. If it’s any consolation, the Archdiocese of Montreal is hopping mad. They’re talking about taking legal action.”
    “Legal action? What the hell do I care about…?” She stopped.
    Without her willing it, one hand rose above her head and seized the number 10 rope.
    Don’t do that, she thought.
    The other hand went out to the side, tightened against the number 9 rope. She hadn’t willed that either. When she tried to draw her hand back, it refused to obey. Then the first hand—her right hand — moved a few inches upward and seized its rope in an iron grip. Her left hand slid a good half-foot up its rope. Inch by inch, hand over hand, she climbed up toward the balloon.
    I’ve gone mad, she thought. Her right hand was gripping the rip panel now, and the other tightly clenched rope 8. Hanging effortlessly from them, she swung her feet upward. She drew her knees against her chest and kicked.
    No!
    The fabric ruptured and she began to fall.
    A voice she could barely make out said, “Don’t panic. We’re going to bring you down.”
    All in a panic, she snatched at the 9-rope and the 4-rope. But they were limp in her hand, useless, falling at the same rate she was.
    “Be patient.”
    “I don’t want to die, goddamnit!”
    “Then don’t.”
    She was falling helplessly. It was a terrifying sensation, an endless plunge into whiteness, slowed somewhat by the tangle of ropes and balloon trailing behind her. She spread out her arms and legs like a starfish, and felt the air resistance slow her yet further. The sea rushed up at her with appalling speed. It seemed like she’d been falling forever. It was over in an instant.
    Without volition, Lizzie kicked free of balloon and harness, drew her feet together, pointed her toes, and positioned herself perpendicular to Titan’s surface. She smashed through the surface of the sea, sending enormous gouts of liquid splashing upward. It knocked the breath out of her. Red pain exploded within. She thought maybe she’d broken a few ribs.
    “You taught us so many things,” the gentle voice said. “You gave us so much.”
    “Help me!” The water was dark around her. The light was fading.
    “Multiplicity. Motion. Lies. You showed us a universe infinitely larger than the one we had known.”
    “Look. Save my life and we’ll call it even. Deal?”
    “Gratitude. Such an essential concept.”
    “Thanks. I think.”
    And then she saw the turbot swimming toward her in a burst of silver bubbles. She held out her arms and the robot fish swam into them. Her fingers closed about the handles which Consuelo had used to wrestle the device into the sea. There was a jerk, so hard that she thought for an instant that her arms would be ripped out of their sockets. Then the robofish was surging forward and upward and it was all she could do to keep her grip.
    “Oh, dear God!” Lizzie cried involuntarily.
    “We think we can bring you to shore. It will not be easy.”
    Lizzie held on for dear life. At first she wasn’t at all sure she could. But then she pulled herself forward, so that she was almost astride the speeding mechanical fish, and her confidence returned. She could do this. It wasn’t any harder than the time she’d had the flu and aced her gymnastics final on parallel bars and horse anyway. It was just a matter of grit and determination. She just had to keep her wits about her. “Listen,” she said. “If you’re really grateful…”
    “We are listening.”
    “We gave you all those new concepts. There must be things you know that we don’t.”
    A brief silence, the equivalent of who knew how much thought. “Some of our concepts might cause you dislocation.” A pause. “But in the long run, you will be much better off. The scars will heal. You will rebuild. The chances of your destroying yourselves are well within the limits of acceptability.”
    “Destroying ourselves?” For a second, Lizzie couldn’t breathe. It had