looked directly at that null point, no outline would form. It took a dozen quick, peripheral takes before he had it, a shark thing, gleaming like obsidian, the black mirrors of its flanks reflecting faint distant lights that bore no relationship to the matrix around it. “That’s the sting,” the construct said. “When Kuang’s good and bellytight with the Tessier-Ashpool core, we’re ridin’ that through.” “You were right, Dix. There’s some kind of manual override on the hardwiring that keeps Wintermute under control. However much he is under control,” he added. “He,” the construct said. “He. Watch
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