move. He tried, and only a finger spasmed. But then, he had been drained before
the storm had smashed them, and lying here for an endless time would only have
emptied him the more.
He could see the PC, over there, halfway between its work-station and his
twisted body. It had come down off the ledge, had managed to get partway toward
him and then had, itself, collapsed.
Its mouth was open, glittering blue-green bytes drooling from its ranged
aperture.
Chris knew something was wrong; something was wrong with him. He should not be
lying on the carpet, he should not be weak, he should be frightened of that
machine over there.
But he couldn't remember.
Couldn't remember who he was, or why he was here, or what he should be doing. To
save himself. To rise. To think about matters that mattered. There had been
people, of that he was sure. People who had known him, had cared for him; but he
couldn't recall what the words cared for him meant.
And he saw the PC trembling.
It inched across the carpet. Slowly, like a broken-backed horse straggling for
the cool mud of a ditch. Chris watched it come.
The phosphorescent aura of its passage across the room was like strobe tracers
in a long shot of the turnpike. It left a trail, like a slug, glittering and
corrosive.
Dragging the umbilicus of its power cord, the three-pronged plug jumping and
twitching like a severed chicken body seeking its head, the PC came closer.
Chris lay on his side and watched, unable to move, unable to defend himself
What did that mean: defend himself?
He thought about it, tried to put the phrase together. Oh, yes, he thought, I
know what that means. Defend myself. I know. It means it's time to be fed, and I
have to make myself available.
With the strength of a drowning man, he scissored his legs against the carpet,
pushing himself across the space between himself and the oncoming computer. The
cord twitched and dragged itself behind the carcass of the PC. Chris rolled to
one side, out of the computer's path, and shinnied his way in a herky-jerky
rolling way till he could get the cord in his mouth. He closed his lips around
the cord, and continued to roll and frog-kick and drag himself to the wall. The
outlet was at eye-level.
He got close to the baseboard, and fainted again.
