Chapters (38)
- Title Page
- Technolibération
- PART ONE
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- PART TWO
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- PART THREE
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- PART FOUR
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Epilogue
- Author’s Note
Twenty continued to watch me, with no change of expression. A wave of intense self-consciousness swept over me. I was suddenly aware of every muscle in my face, the angle of my head, the stoop of my shoulders, the direction of my gaze. I felt like a barely-man-shaped lump of clay, which would need to be molded, painstakingly, into a convincing likeness of a human being speaking the truth.
And I knew that every bone, every pore, every cell in my body was betraying the effort I was making to fake it.
Rule number one: never let on that there are any rules at all.
Twenty nodded at Three, and he untied me from the chair. I was taken back to the hold, lowered in with the winch, and bound to Kuwale again.
As the others began to climb out on the rope ladder, Three hesitated. He crouched down beside me and whispered, like a good friend offering painful but essential advice: “I don’t blame you for trying, man. But hasn’t anyone ever told you that you’re the worst liar in the world?”
Chapter 23
When I’d finished my account of the killers’ media presentation, Kuwale said flatly, “Don’t kid yourself that you ever had a chance. No one could have talked them out of it.”
“No?” I didn’t believe ver. They’d talked themselves into it, systematically enough. There had to be a way to unravel their own supposedly watertight logic before their eyes – to force them to confront its absurdity.
I hadn’t been able to find it, though. I hadn’t been able to get inside their heads.
I checked the time with Witness ; it was almost dawn. I couldn’t stop shivering; the slick of algae on the floor felt damper than ever, and the hard polymer beneath had grown cold as steel.
“Mosala will be under close protection.” Kuwale had been despondent when I left ver, but in my absence ve seemed to have recovered a streak of defiant optimism. “I sent a copy of your mutant cholera genome to conference security, so they know the kind of risk she’s facing – even if she won’t acknowledge it herself. And there are plenty of other mainstream AC back on Stateless.”