Rifters 4 - Blindsight Read Online Free PDF Page B

The Kurzweil Institute, like everyone else, suddenly had other things to worry about.
    So I returned to my apartment, split a bulb of Glenfiddich, and arrayed virtual windows like daisy petals in my head. Everyone Icons debated on all sides, serving up leftovers two weeks past their expiry date:
Disgraceful breakdown of global security.
No harm done.
Comsats annihilated. Thousands dead.
Random collisions. Accidental deaths.
(who sent them?)
We should have seen them coming. Why didn't we—
Deep space. Inverse square. Do the math.
They were stealthed !
(what do they want ?)
We were raped!
Jesus Christ. They just took our picture .
Why the silence?
Moon's fine. Mars's fine.
(Where are they?)
Why haven't they made contact?
Nothing's touched the O'Neills.
Technology Implies Belligerence!
(Are they coming back?)
Nothing attacked us.

Yet
Nothing invaded .

So far.
(But where are they?)
    (Are they coming back ?)
    (Anyone?)
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
Jim Moore Voice Only
encrypted
Accept?
     
    The text window blossomed directly in my line of sight, eclipsing the debate. I read it twice. I tried to remember the last time he'd called from the field, and couldn't.
    I muted the other windows. "Dad?"
    "Son," he replied after a moment. "Are you well?"
    "Like everyone else. Still wondering whether we should be celebrating or crapping our pants."
    He didn't answer immediately. "It's a big question, all right," he said at last.
    "I don't suppose you could give me any advice? They're not telling us anything at ground level."
    It was a rhetorical request. His silence was hardly necessary to make the point. "I know," I added after a moment. "Sorry. It's just, they're saying the Icarus Array went down, and—"
    "You know I can't—oh." My father paused. "That's ridiculous. Icarus's fine."
    "It is?"
    He seemed to be weighing his words. "The Fireflies probably didn't even notice it. There's no particle trail as long as it stays offstream, and it would be buried in solar glare unless someone knew where to search."
    It was my turn to fall silent. This conversation felt suddenly wrong .
    Because when my father went on the job, he went dark. He never called his family.
    Because even when my father came off the job, he never talked about it. It wouldn't matter whether the Icarus Array was still online or whether it had been shredded and thrown into the sun like a thousand kilometers of torn origami; he wouldn't tell either tale unless an official announcement had been made. Which—I refreshed an index window just to be sure— it hadn't.
    Because while my father was a man of few words, he was not a man of frequent, indecisive pauses—and he had hesitated before each and every line he'd spoken in this exchange.
    I tugged ever-so-gently on the line—"But they've sent ships."—and started counting.
    One one-thousand, two one-thousand—
    "Just a precaution. Icarus was overdue for a visit anyway. You don't swap out your whole grid without at least dropping in and kicking the new tires first."
    Nearly three seconds to respond.
    "You're on the moon," I said.
    Pause. "Close enough."
    "What are you—Dad, why are you telling me this? Isn't this a security breach?"
    "You're going to get a call," he told me.
    "From who? Why?"
    "They're assembling a team. The kind of—people you deal with." My father was too rational to dispute the contributions of the recons and hybrids in our midst, but he'd never been able to hide his mistrust of them.
    "They need a synthesist," he said.
    "Isn't it lucky you've got one in the family."
    Radio bounced back and forth. "This isn't nepotism, Siri. I wanted very much for them to pick someone else."
    "Thanks for the vote of conf—"
    But he'd seen it coming, and preempted me before my words could cross the distance: "It's not a slap at your abilities and you know it. You're simply the most