People were wailing and shouting – and trying to force their way out of the crowd. I resisted too long, transfixed with horror, and I was shoved to my knees. I covered my head and crouched down, but I was still an obstacle to the stampede. Someone heavy tripped on me, jabbing me with knees and elbows, then leaning on me to regain his balance, almost crushing my spine. I cowered on the ground as the buffeting continued – wishing I could rise to my feet, but certain that any attempt would only see me knocked flat on my back and trampled in the face. The man’s desperate pleading was like a second rain of blows; I tucked my head deeper into my arms, trying to blot out the sound. Somewhere nearby, a tent wall collapsed gently to the ground.

Long seconds passed, and no one else collided with me. I raised my head; the square was deserted. The man was still alive, but his eyes were rolling up into his skull intermittently, his jaw working feebly. Both his legs had been shattered now. Blood trickled down onto his invisible torturer – each droplet halting in mid fall and spreading out for a moment, hinting at a tangible surface before vanishing into the hidden carapace. I searched the ground for my camera, emitting soft angry choking noises. My throat was knotted, my chest constricted; every breath, every movement felt like a punishment. I found the camera and attached it, then rose shakily to my feet and began recording.

The man stared at me in disbelief. He looked me in the eye and said, “Help me.”

I stretched a hand in his direction, impotently. The insect ignored me – and I knew I was in no danger, it wanted this to be seen – but I was giddy with rage and frustration, sweating cold stinking rivulets down my face and chest.

A delicate sheen of interference fringes raced over the robot’s form as it raised the man higher. The camera followed my gaze upward, until I knew it was framing only the broken body and the uncaring sky.

I heard myself bellowing, “Where’s the fucking militia now? Where are your weapons? Where are your bombs? Do something! ”

The man’s head lolled; I hoped he’d lost consciousness. Invisible pincers snapped his spine, then flung him aside. I heard the corpse thud against the marquee above the water pumps, then slide to the ground.

The whole camp of ten thousand seemed to be wailing in my skull, and I was screaming incoherently, but I kept my eyes locked on the place where the robot had to be.