Toys

Chapter 36

Speechless, I looked down to see that one of the Jacob dolls had followed us. He was pointing an accusing finger at me. And then little Jacob said, “You are going to get the slow death, big man!”

“Well, better that than the swift kick,” I said, picking him up and punting him out over the escalator bank. I took some satisfaction in hearing his shrill little scream silence as he smashed through a Perfumone display case-but it was a short-term fix to a much larger problem.

The store’s alarms were blaring, security bolts on the doors began slamming shut, and police sirens started to wail in the distance.

“Thanks for your help,” I told the Elite woman. “I have to run.”

I picked up and heaved a 300- to 400-pound SimStim booth through a window. Then I leaped after it, landing on the street outside in a shower of splintered glass.

“Halt, Hays Baker!” a loud digitized voice boomed somewhere behind me. “We will shoot to kill! Repeat, we will shoot to kill!”

Tell me about it. I took off past the simulation booth, zigzagging my way back to the car.

Minutes later, I was in the ZX and weaving through the streets of New Lake City, keeping the speed down to 180 miles per hour so as not to attract undue attention. I was pretty sure I’d gotten away from the store without the cops spotting me. Even better, I didn’t see anyone following now.

At the city’s northern outskirts, high-rise buildings and fancy houses gave way to an industrial area filled with long, low warehouses and factories.

As the streets opened into freight-friendly freeways, I jacked my speed up to 300.

It looked like I’d made it one more step on this journey-wherever it was leading.

I set the locator code for my parents’ house and switched the car over to automatic pilot. My folks lived far out in the north country, so the trip would take approximately four hours.

“OK, I need to rest,” I said. “May I have a very dry vodka martini? I think I deserve it.”

“With pleasure,” said the personal-attendant program. Slim, red-fingernail-tipped hands opened the bar compartment and mixed the drink. “What else can I do for you?”

“You know, what I really want is some sleep. Wake me up a few minutes before we get to the south shore of Lake Wabago, will you?”

“Of course. How about a full-body massage to help you relax?” she said, and added, “It’s one of my specialties.”

“Sounds terrific,” I said.

And was it ever. Her fingers started on my neck and shoulders, probing gently into my exceedingly tense muscles. Like all the best robotic massages, this one featured infrared heat radiating from the android’s fingertips, soothing body tissue clear down to the bones.

When I finished the martini, I reclined all the way back in the seat and stretched out as far as I could. The attendant’s smooth hands unfastened my shirt and started working on my chest.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you’ve got a great body,” she murmured.

“I don’t mind,” I said. “Most people have been kind of down on me lately.”

Sleep, I told myself. You have to sleep.

And that’s what I did.