30
Identity: Patricia Killiam
“They say no publicity is bad publicity,” laughed Kesselring, standing uncomfortably in my office, “but how on Earth did you let that viral skin get past you?”
I stared at him and took a drag from my cigarette.
“You’re our chief scientist,” he continued. “You must understand how this looks. The blame for hiding any clinical trial data has to come down on your shoulders.”
So I’m the scapegoat.
Jimmy and Kesselring had preempted my plan to release the hidden addiction data. By coming clean right at the moment when Jimmy had solved the storm mystery, and laying the blame on my doorstep at the same time as exposing the apocalyptic phuturecast data, they’d neatly jiu-jitsued themselves into the position of liberator while simultaneously thrusting the pssi program into the global mind.
Of course, they had to sacrifice me in the process.
“You can’t buy advertising like that,” I replied, the words sour in my mouth. “Looks like you don’t need me anymore.”
I was tired beyond belief after the showdown with Jimmy. He’d used some sort of pssi-weapon to stun me into submission, a part of the weapons program Kesselring had been hiding. I’d felt it once before, long ago when Jimmy was exposed at Nancy’s thirteenth birthday party, but he was infinitely more powerful now.
“There will always be a place for you here, Patricia.”
Patronizing bastard.
“What’s happening then?” I asked wearily.
“Jimmy added an override to the pssi network to stop something like this from ever happening again.”
While I felt defeated, he looked elated.
“The media attention has boosted demand for the launch. We’ve already begun private distribution of smarticles into some business ecospheres.”
There was nothing I could say, nothing I could do anymore. Kesselring was doomed, but there was no way I could help him. I finally understood what the Terra Novans were trying to stop, but now it was too late.
I’ve created a monster I love.