Slaughtermatic

by Steve Aylett

A bigot lattice obstructed the thoroughfare. Dozens of cop rollers were drawing fire outside the McKenna Square Assembly Hall.

This was an M109 155mm Enigmatic Crowd Cannon, a fairlike gun of the type he deplored. Some demonic wiseacres had taken the Zero Approach principle of etheric consent and introduced a randomizer into the gridpulse - when the cannon let rip at a crowd a few people would get it who didn’t deserve it and vice versa. By a tortuous route, artillery technicians had created a gun which accomplished by precision engineering what other guns did by chance.

Outside they ran slam into Terry Geryon, Harpoon Specter and a handful of laughing cops. Specter reacted like a rag doll when Rosa grabbed him and backed down the corridor, pressing the cell guard’s gun to his head. ‘Hold your fire or the lawyer gets it!’ The air exploded with ammo and cordite.

‘Don’t be a fool, Danny,’ hailed Blince. ‘There’s more to life than blowin’ yourself and your enemies sky-high.’ ‘Like what?’ ‘Wiseguy, eh?’

A dunce shot and it was his. He raised the gun at Gamete’s retreating back - stepping out of the elevator, he passed through the Zero Approach screen and flew to pieces like shit hitting a fan.