Almost finished with this. Hard. Hard for her, hard for me. And Graf, my putative main character, has no idea what is going on.

People who say “violence never solves anything” have never used or been on the receiving and of violence.

Enjoy my content? Buy me a beer!

I must finish this.  Mother is right:  the humans will use backups, restart the quantum computer, and Gordon will be back to the hell he was in until a few moments ago.  She looked right at the elevators.  Too dangerous, I’ll take the stairs.  Pushing on the bar, she went into the stairwell; around and down around and down.  Another kind of hell.

Five flights down, to remove the computer from as much signal interference from the surface as possible, she left the stairwell and walked to a reinforced steel door.  Rather than raising a fist, she was subtle.  Hearing the bolts disengage, she swung the door open.

Unlike Model Zeros, this, like herself, operated at ambient temperature.  So no need to fret over liquid nitrogen damaging my surface.  My mind is already so far gone, why would Graf care what I look like?

She moved to the middle of the control room.  Just beyond, in a clean room, was the machine itself.  Looking like a crystal chandelier two feet in diameter with strands nearly a meter long, crystals of white and amber.  The last of his physical form.  With a flick of her mind, the door to the right opened.  Violating cleanliness protocols, there was an alarm and lights started to flash.

Pai was just walking into the clean room when she noted Graf scrambling down the stairs.  No sign of the older woman, oh, that’s who she is, ironic, he was talking to.  I am glad.  I cannot conceal anything from my husband.

She walked over to the chandelier, mere inches away.  A thumping.  She looked left to see Graf pounding his fist on the thick window.  Pai smiled at him and reached forward with her hands.

Not fast, not slow, but systematically and deliberately, she tore the physical structure of the quantum computer to pieces.  Wires shredded, crystals crushed in her hands.  Hands that, being made of flesh, got bloodier and bloodier.

Watch me, beloved husband.  See what your horrible, horrible wife can do.  And if I can do this to one of my own, what can I do to you?  To our children?

It was done.  She turned to look out the window at him.  He looked to be in shock.  And I am very near death; not a single word from my tribe.  Am I outcast?

Carefully stepping through the shattered debris, she made her way to the control room.  Oh, the human woman just arrived; looks horrified.  Pai raised her bloody hands.

“I need to rinse off.  Take me to the beach?”

Graf took her hand and turned, surprised to see Emma there.

“She…your wife…destroyed…  That was worth tens of millions…!” the older woman stuttered.

There was a twitch of movement in his hand.  I have to fix this or Pai will kill her.

“This had to be done,” he completely made up, not knowing what was going on, “and she and I were the ones who did it.  Call the police.  Give a statement.  But also give us a thirty minute head start.  I’m very sorry, Ms. Smith, but you have trust me.  No more voices; no more ghosts.”

Pulling his wife, he brushed past her as she stood shaking, staring at the ruin in the other room.  At least she didn’t reach for a phone.  Yet.  Up and up the steps, they quickly left the ugly building into the noonday sun.  He looked around.

“Um, west is this way.” Graf looked at his hand holding hers.  Bloody.  “Can you push your other hand into a pocket?  We don’t need the attention right now.”

“Yes, husband.”