PeterWatts_Blindsight

Peter Watts 239 Blindsight
"Well, if they're spies, they can't have learned much. They've
been in those cages the whole time, except—" for the way up.
They'd been right next to us the whole trip back…
"These things live and breath EM. Even stunted, even isolated,
who knows how much of our tech they could have just read
through the walls?"
"You've got to tell Sarasti," I said.
"Oh, Sarasti knows. Why do you think he wouldn't let them
go?"
"He never said anything about—"
"He'd be crazy to fill us in. He keeps sending you down there,
remember? Do you think for a second he'd tell you what he knows
and then set you loose in a labyrinth full of mind-reading
minotaurs? He knows, and he's already got it factored a thousand
ways to Sunday." Cunningham's eyes were bright manic points
blazing in an expressionless mask. He raised them to the center of
the drum, and didn't raise his voice a decibel. "Isn't that right,
Jukka?"
I checked ConSensus for active channels. "I don't think he's
listening, Robert."
Cunningham's mouth moved in something that would have been
a pitying smile if the rest of his face had been able to join in. "He
doesn't have to listen, Keeton. He doesn't have to spy on us. He
just knows."
Ventilators, breathing. The almost-subliminal hum of bearings
in motion. Then Sarasti's disembodied voice rang forth through the
drum.
"Everyone to Commons. Robert wants to share."
Cunningham sat to my right, his plastic face lit from beneath by
the conference table. He stared down into that light, rocking
slightly. His lips went through the ongoing motions of some
inaudible incantation. The Gang sat across from us. To my left
Bates kept one eye on the proceedings and another on intelligence
from the front lines.
*