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PeterWatts_Blindsight

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Peter Watts 220 <strong>Blindsight</strong><br />

and aware, Cunningham had named the prisoners. Stretch tended<br />

to float spread-eagled; Clench was the balled-up corner-hugger.<br />

Susan, playing her own part in this perverse role-reversal, had<br />

simply numbered them One and Two. It wasn't that Cunningham's<br />

choices were too cheesy for her to stomach, or that she objected to<br />

slave names on principle. She'd just fallen back on the oldest trick<br />

in the Torturer's Handbook, the one that lets you go home to your<br />

family after work, and play with your children, and sleep at night:<br />

never humanize your victims.<br />

It shouldn't have been such an issue when dealing with methanebreathing<br />

medusae. I guess every little bit helped.<br />

Biotelemetry danced across the headspace beside each alien,<br />

luminous annotations shuddering through thin air. I had no idea<br />

what constituted normal readings for these creatures, but I couldn't<br />

imagine those jagged spikes passing for anything but bad news.<br />

The creatures themselves seethed subtly with fine mosaics in blue<br />

and gray, fluid patterns rippling across their cuticles. Perhaps it<br />

was a reflexive reaction to the microwaves; for all we knew it was<br />

a mating display.<br />

More likely they were screaming.<br />

James killed the microwaves. In the left-hand enclosure, a<br />

yellow square dimmed; in the right, an identical icon nested among<br />

others had never lit.<br />

The pigment flowed faster in the wake of the onslaught; the arms<br />

slowed but didn't stop. They swept back and forth like listless,<br />

skeletal eels.<br />

"Baseline exposure. Five seconds, two hundred fifty Watts."<br />

She spoke for the record. Another affectation; Theseus recorded<br />

every breath on board, every trickle of current to five decimal<br />

places.<br />

"Repeat."<br />

The icon lit up. More tile patterns, flash-flooding across alien<br />

skin. But this time, neither alien moved from where it was. Their<br />

arms continued to squirm slightly, a torqued trembling variation on<br />

the undulation they effected at rest. The telemetry was as harsh as<br />

ever, though.<br />

They learned helplessness fast enough, I reflected.

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