Each machine had a tail, like a sperm, that would allow it to swim through the fluid surrounding the seal's brain to the area it was programmed to affect. There it would gently drop onto the surface of the brain and adhere itself by releasing a microscopic drop of surgical glue. Then tiny filaments would spin out, attaching themselves to crucial parts of the mammal's brain—essentially a more limited form of the machine-neuron symbiosis that made up her brain, and derived from the same technology.
Not for the first time, she wondered how much of what Skynet would know in the future would come from research, and how much through a closed timelike loop from her. With an effort, she pushed these musings aside; the question was simply unanswerable, as was the question of where the information came from in the "first place." That was meaningless, when time travel was factored into the equation.
The machines would respond to signals sent through a special transmitter she'd
added to the one on the radio harness. This should allow her to see and hear through the animal's eyes and ears. How well that would work, exactly, she had yet to find out. The transmitter would also allow her to excite certain portions of the seal's brain to elicit a desired response. Relentless, violent rage, for example.
In a world without Terminators she had to improvise.
Clea plunged the needle into the seal's neck at the base of the skull and inserted the machines.
"Clea! What did you just do?" Hiram Locke trundled gingerly over to her across the ice. "Did I just see you inject air into that seal?"
She couldn't see his face at all, as it was covered by a fleece balaclava and mirrored goggles, but she could tell from his voice that his expression as disapproving. "Hiram!" she snapped back. "Wouldn't that kill the animal?"
He hesitated. "Yes," he said.
"As we both already know that, what possible reason would I have to do something so stupid?"
Locke looked around, as though hoping for backup. "What were you doing?" he asked uncertainly.
"I was trying to get a blood sample. But my fingers are numb and I missed the vein. Would you like to give it a try?" She stood and held out the syringe.
"No, no," he said, backing a step, holding up his mittened hands.
She took a step closer to him. "I had the impression you didn't think I knew how to use one of these." Her voice was hard, leaving no doubt as to how she felt about his interference. "Wouldn't you like to demonstrate?"
"Sorry," Locke said, continuing to back away. "I spoke out of turn."
"What do you want" Clea asked.
She wasn't happy that he'd come looking for her. He was supposed to be a couple of miles away with his partner. She'd been taking chances and he might have seen something. But the risks had been unavoidable. Her time alone was severely limited; safety regulations demanded that no one go out on the ice alone. She'd only managed to acquire this time by making herself completely unendurable to the two humans.
Still, I shouldn't have been taken unaware like that.
With her whole head muffled by a balaclava, goggles, and a fur-trimmed hood, even her computer-enhanced senses were severely hobbled. She judged that she was currently human normal in the realm of her senses. Which put her way ahead of her companions.
Still, she should be more alert than a human. Especially because of the reduction in her abilities. Clea wondered if at some level she was trying to get caught. Or perhaps I'm looking for an excuse to kill a human. Perhaps it was frustration over how long it was taking to get Skynet on-line.
The computer that would one day be Skynet was exceptional, but it was just a machine, completely empty of consciousness. Being in the presence of such a
truncated version of her creator was acutely painful in the emotional sense. It certainly kept her own computer busy balancing her brain chemistry. Perhaps too busy.
"We were concerned," Locke said. "You're not supposed to be alone out here. If anything happened to you…"
She laughed at him. "If anything happens to me it will be my own fault and there'd be nothing you could do about it."
"Well, I don't want to be the one to tell Tricker that you were left alone out here like this." His voice was sullen.
"Then don't tell him." Clea shrugged one shoulder. "What he doesn't know won't bother him. Do you think I'm going to complain to him about it when we get back?" She leaned toward him. "Look, I have my work and you have yours. And guess what? My work is more important to me than yours is. I don't want to help you, or hang out with you, when I could be accomplishing things on my own."
They'd discussed all of this, ad nauseam, before they all set out to work this morning. Possibly the human was nervous and wanted to cover his butt in case Tricker somehow found out about her working independently.
"By the way, if we're not supposed to be alone out here, where the hell is Kushner?"
Locke shuffled his heavily booted feet. "He'll be all right."
"Well, so will I!" Clea snapped in frustration.
The scientist drew himself up. "But you're a woman."
Does he honestly think I'm unaware of my gender? she wondered, momentarily confused. Her computer gave her a prompt. *Human females have historically been considered the weaker sex.* She almost laughed aloud.
"Yes," she agreed quietly, "I'm a woman." Sort of. "But I'm also a lot younger than both of you and in much better shape. I suggest that you two watch out for each other and leave me to my no-doubt-deserved fate."
"There's no need for you to get snippy," Locke said huffily. "I'm only trying to help."
"There's no need to get patronizing. Go away, I'm busy."
They stared at each other. It's a good thing he can't really see my face, the I-950
thought. He'd probably have a heart attack. Of course, then at least half of her problem would be solved.
Killing them both was so tempting. She could toss the bodies down a crevasse today, and by the time searchers found them, the two would be so frozen no one would be able to tell exactly when they'd died, and even if she beat them to a pulp they'd most likely attribute the wounds to the fall. Then she'd be free to work in peace. A perfect solution.
Except… it would also redouble Tricker's surveillance. She sighed, looking around at the white, white landscape with its drifting wisps of ice crystal under the deep-purple-blue sky. In the long run she supposed the best thing to do was to simply put up with them. But it is so tempting. Without them, I could imagine
there were no humans in the world at all. This place is… clean.
"Look," the I-950 said, trying to sound conciliatory, "I'll call in every half hour, and if anything, anything at all seems to be going wrong, I'll call you and immediately head back to camp." Clea shrugged. "What more can I do? If I don't do this now it will be time to go back and I'll have accomplished nothing."
Locke folded his arms across his chest and seemed about to speak.
"Unless you'd both like to give up some of your time out here to stay with me while I work?" she suggested.
He barked a laugh. "The thing is, Tricker…"
Here we go again, she thought. "Who's going to tell him?" Clea demanded. "I'm not." She shrugged. "Look, it's cold out here and we're losing working time. Why don't we discuss this later, back at camp?" Just like they had every day so far.
After a moment's hesitation he nodded. "All right," he said. Then, almost reluctantly, he turned and tottered off.