WEBVTT - Chapter Two

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<v Speaker 1>Chapter two, Rowland. He woke up suddenly aware of two

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<v Speaker 1>equally pressing problems. The acids worn off and eight people

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<v Speaker 1>are here to kill me. Both of these facts concerned

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<v Speaker 1>him equally. He couldn't remember his name or where exactly

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<v Speaker 1>he was, which made the impending killed him all the

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<v Speaker 1>more concerning. He opened his eyes, his vision was blurry

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<v Speaker 1>and unfocused. His head felt filled with sand. Roland, Oh ship,

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<v Speaker 1>that's my name. Roland wondered how long he'd been asleep.

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<v Speaker 1>He reflexively triggered his deck before the dim firing of

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<v Speaker 1>a synapse reminded him that he'd permanently disabled his data

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<v Speaker 1>connection well a long time ago, million two or twenty

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<v Speaker 1>six minutes. His hindbrain, what Roland called the acres of

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<v Speaker 1>microscopic processors and data banks, spun into his blood. Spat

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<v Speaker 1>the knowledge out, unbidden into his conscious mind. Roland tried

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<v Speaker 1>to curse, but wound up spitting out a wad of

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<v Speaker 1>brackish flim instead. His eyes settled on a quarter full

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<v Speaker 1>bottle of fungus whiskey. He grabbed it, drained it, and

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<v Speaker 1>rooted around on the table where he'd found it until

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<v Speaker 1>his digging turned up a sheet of acid. He ripped

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<v Speaker 1>the sheet in half, ate one half and pasted the

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<v Speaker 1>other on his sweat damp chest. Roland's brain didn't wait

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<v Speaker 1>for the acid to do its job. Nanomachines couriered the

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<v Speaker 1>lysurgic diethyl acid directly to his synapses. The drugs took

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<v Speaker 1>cold in a matter of seconds. Acid softened the world

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<v Speaker 1>around him. His hindbrains running commentary faded into a sort

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<v Speaker 1>of generalized hyper awareness of the world around him. He sighed, relaxed,

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<v Speaker 1>and remembered a woman hovered over him, her hands on

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<v Speaker 1>his shoulders, her knees on either side of his body.

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<v Speaker 1>Sweat dripped down from her short black hair on to

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<v Speaker 1>his face and chest. Her pupils were the size of

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<v Speaker 1>dinner plates. She smelled like acid and desire. She smiled,

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<v Speaker 1>revealing a row of damascus steel teeth. Roland pulled himself

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<v Speaker 1>out of the memory. He felt the strike team advance.

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<v Speaker 1>His hindbrain generated a map of the approaching assassins. They

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<v Speaker 1>were still a solid minute from his hovel. There were

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<v Speaker 1>six men and two women on the team. If he'd

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<v Speaker 1>wanted a micro seconds focus could have told him which

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<v Speaker 1>members of the group were vegetarians, where two of the

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<v Speaker 1>team were on their minstrel cycles and how recently each

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<v Speaker 1>of their firearms had been cleaned and oiled. But Roland

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<v Speaker 1>didn't care about that information. He was trying to remember

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<v Speaker 1>where he left his gun. The one room hut Roland

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<v Speaker 1>occupied was best described as squalid. He knew he'd lived

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<v Speaker 1>there for quite a long time, although he wasn't sure

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<v Speaker 1>if the home was his in any legal sense of

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<v Speaker 1>the word. It's one room held a filthy mattress, a

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<v Speaker 1>hot plate, several dozen empty bottles of liquor, and a

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<v Speaker 1>tinkling carpet of spent whippets. A large knife was embedded

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<v Speaker 1>in the door. Roland couldn't remember why he knew he'd

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<v Speaker 1>had a gun at one point, even though he couldn't

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<v Speaker 1>currently find it. He stood up, still wobbly from the

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<v Speaker 1>massive dose of g h B he'd taken with his

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<v Speaker 1>nightly tequila, and started kicking at the piles of bottles

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<v Speaker 1>and drug paraphernalia in the hope that one of them

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<v Speaker 1>might contain his gun. He found some bullets after a

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<v Speaker 1>few seconds search, at the bottom of a folder's coffee

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<v Speaker 1>tin that was half filled with marijuana. Next to the

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<v Speaker 1>tin was a large metal bowl of stagnant water. Roland

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<v Speaker 1>glanced in and caught sight of his own reflection. His

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<v Speaker 1>black skin looked ashen and clammy, unusually pale, he thought,

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<v Speaker 1>but he didn't recall enough about himself to know if

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<v Speaker 1>that was really true. His face was long and drawn,

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<v Speaker 1>with wide, jutting cheekbones and apache uneven beard. His head

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<v Speaker 1>was covered in stubble. The center of his face was

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<v Speaker 1>dominated by a crooked, heavily scarred nose. Roland had no

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<v Speaker 1>recollection of why it was scarred, but he knew the

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<v Speaker 1>injury must have happened back before the army filled him

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<v Speaker 1>with chrome. He turned away from his reflection and continued

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<v Speaker 1>to search through the house, scattering food and crusted plates,

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<v Speaker 1>empty coke bags, an old fashioned print pornography into even

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<v Speaker 1>less organized piles. No dice did I pawn it? He wondered.

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<v Speaker 1>As his machine assisted edetic memory warred with his profound intoxication.

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<v Speaker 1>Roland was now conscious enough to remember that not remembering

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<v Speaker 1>much was pretty normal for him, and he should really

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<v Speaker 1>worry more about the assassin's coming to kill him. Oh

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<v Speaker 1>ship right, the strike team was just fifty meters out. Now.

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<v Speaker 1>He felt a gust of wind d and in the

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<v Speaker 1>same way felt As two of the men began to

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<v Speaker 1>assemble a large sound cannon behind a rocky hill that

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<v Speaker 1>faced his hovel, he guessed it was a Callahan Mark

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<v Speaker 1>thirty eight. Roland didn't know how he knew the weapon's name,

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<v Speaker 1>but he knew it could burn out even his armored

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<v Speaker 1>synapses with a few seconds of continuous fire. One man

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<v Speaker 1>was on overwatch for the Callahan team. He carried a

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<v Speaker 1>two bore Ruger fusion anti vehicular rifle. The mingling odors

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<v Speaker 1>of fierce sweat and baby formula wafting off him triggered

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<v Speaker 1>since memories of someone holding a newborn infant, Roland guessed

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<v Speaker 1>the man must have a kid back home, a kid

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<v Speaker 1>he's scared of leaving fatherless of some chromed out asset

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<v Speaker 1>had phileas him. That was useful data. He filed it

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<v Speaker 1>away in the chunk of his brain least likely to

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<v Speaker 1>lose that information. Over the next four seconds, Roland's memory

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<v Speaker 1>was real good in four second chunks. Over the next

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<v Speaker 1>pico second, he caught equally informative whiffs of the others.

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<v Speaker 1>It was enough to suggest that two of the women

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<v Speaker 1>in the main assault team were lovers and they'd both

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<v Speaker 1>had millspecks subdermal armor implanted recently. The acrid scent of

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<v Speaker 1>fresh suitures hung heavy in the air around them. Roland

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<v Speaker 1>could also tell that one of the men in the

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<v Speaker 1>assault party took heavy testosterone supplements, either because of a

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<v Speaker 1>genetic abnormality or because he'd been assigned female at birth.

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<v Speaker 1>The fourth man was moderately addicted to ephedric's and riding

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<v Speaker 1>into battle on a high stimulant wave. The last member

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<v Speaker 1>of the assault team was the only one to give

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<v Speaker 1>Roland any pause. He could guess the man's heightened weight

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<v Speaker 1>six foot five hundred and forty pounds from the sound

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<v Speaker 1>of his footfalls. Roland could smell the sig Sour five

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<v Speaker 1>hundred submachine gun in his hands, but otherwise the man

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<v Speaker 1>was a sensory blank, no sweat, no hydraulics, and black

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<v Speaker 1>to thermographic sensors. The man was chromed, not so heavily

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<v Speaker 1>as Roland, of course, but the competent and well armed

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<v Speaker 1>squad he led might be enough to narrow the gap.

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<v Speaker 1>We're in the shooting shit, shit, shit did I leave

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<v Speaker 1>that gun? The static balance in the air chain changed

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<v Speaker 1>as the Overwatch team warmed up their sound cannon. The

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<v Speaker 1>assault team was close, now barely a hundred feet out,

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<v Speaker 1>waiting in the cover provided by several large bowlders at

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<v Speaker 1>the base of the rise that held Roland's ramshackle home.

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<v Speaker 1>He knew how this fight would go. They'd unleashed the

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<v Speaker 1>Callahan for a good five seconds while the killed team

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<v Speaker 1>moved into position and kicked in the door next the

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<v Speaker 1>big bruiser and the two women would enter, while the

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<v Speaker 1>remainder of the assault team fanned out to cover the sides.

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<v Speaker 1>Textbook post human kill team tactics. He thought he didn't

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<v Speaker 1>actually remember any of the fights this conclusion was based on,

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<v Speaker 1>but he'd clearly lived through similar encounters, and if he

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<v Speaker 1>trusted his body and hindbrain, he would again. Roland finished

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<v Speaker 1>searching the apocalyptic ruin that was his kitchen sink. The

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<v Speaker 1>pile of plates had been large enough to hide a

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<v Speaker 1>short barrel, a R ten, but his gun wasn't there either.

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<v Speaker 1>Funck Nuts, He cursed. The profanity brought a tiny serotonin spike,

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<v Speaker 1>and Roland felt himself calm down even as the noose

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<v Speaker 1>tightened around him. His combat wetware did most of its

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<v Speaker 1>work in the moments before meat met metal, so Roland

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<v Speaker 1>closed his eyes, slumped his shoulders, and relaxed while it

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<v Speaker 1>cross indexed his memories of past firefights with his current

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<v Speaker 1>sensory data. A moment later, Roland was presented with three

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<v Speaker 1>potential counter assault strategies. He selected the one that sounded

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<v Speaker 1>like the most fun. The Callahan fired, blanketing his home

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<v Speaker 1>and much of the area beyond it in a web

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<v Speaker 1>of noise designed to assault and eventually fry the synapses

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<v Speaker 1>of anyone dumb enough to stand too long in its wake.

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<v Speaker 1>Payne lashed from Roland's inner ear and sparked out to

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<v Speaker 1>every nerve in his body. It would have been enough

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<v Speaker 1>to leave a strong man curled on the ground, shifting

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<v Speaker 1>his guts out, but Roland just felt a distant ache.

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<v Speaker 1>His experience of the damage was more akin to seeing

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<v Speaker 1>the check engine light on a car than true agony.

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<v Speaker 1>He was aware that if he waited too long, the

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<v Speaker 1>sonic weapon would blow out the pain dampners on his

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<v Speaker 1>spinal nerve gates. Lucky for him, the assault team didn't

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<v Speaker 1>wait that long. Roland felt the big man arc his

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<v Speaker 1>leg up to kick in the door, trumpled in and

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<v Speaker 1>Roland lunged left. This helped him avoid the first spray

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<v Speaker 1>of covering fire. As the chromed man and both women

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<v Speaker 1>barreled inside, Roland flung himself into the hovel's main structural

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<v Speaker 1>support beam, which ran up the building's left wall. He

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<v Speaker 1>hit it with the rough speed and force of a

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<v Speaker 1>light truck going twenty miles an hour. His momentum carried

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<v Speaker 1>him and half the left wall into the rocky ground outside.

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<v Speaker 1>Roland's filthy little home tottered and swayed. It collapsed, first

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<v Speaker 1>on the left side and then on the right. As

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<v Speaker 1>the whole structure failed. Roland was already up. With a

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<v Speaker 1>jagged piece of two by four in his hands. He

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<v Speaker 1>rushed the ephedric's addict, holding down the left flank. The

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<v Speaker 1>man got two shots off, and to his credit, both

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<v Speaker 1>hit right where Roland's original heart had been, and then

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<v Speaker 1>Roland was on him. He shoved the wood into the

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<v Speaker 1>meat of the man's face. It gouged off enough flesh

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<v Speaker 1>to philippine glass and shattered the poor fellow's jaw. He

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<v Speaker 1>went down hard. Roland smelled the familiar scent of antihimiragic

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<v Speaker 1>nano machines. As they rushed to save the man's life.

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<v Speaker 1>He caught a slight sour whiff of the cheap clotting

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<v Speaker 1>agents in the man's blood. Roland guessed it was Traumax brand,

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<v Speaker 1>which was convenient. Traumax had based their whole line off

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<v Speaker 1>a piece of Brazilian military wet weare that itself was

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<v Speaker 1>based on a crude synthesis of horseshoe crab blood. The

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<v Speaker 1>organs worked well enough unless you happen to be an

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<v Speaker 1>amphetamine attitude suffered massive tissue damage, then your Tromax unit

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<v Speaker 1>would flood your synapses with ad aenocene to knock you

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<v Speaker 1>out rather than risk pushing more amphetamines on your stressed heart.

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<v Speaker 1>Something in the smell of the man's blood set off

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<v Speaker 1>a powerful sense memory buried deep in Roland's hippocampus vine

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<v Speaker 1>slashing his face boiling jungle heat, and his fist connecting

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<v Speaker 1>with the face of a heavily armed young woman, her

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<v Speaker 1>orbital bone broken to the blow. He smelled her blood

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<v Speaker 1>meat the air, and she dropped, dropped, dropped. The memory

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<v Speaker 1>flashed by, free of context and the time it took

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<v Speaker 1>the other man to hit the ground. It was frustrating

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<v Speaker 1>to only remember the what of an action and not

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<v Speaker 1>the why or the after it was like knowing how

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<v Speaker 1>to ride a bike without remembering who'd taught you, and

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<v Speaker 1>when only for everything. Roland found it somewhat unsettling. A

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<v Speaker 1>twelve gage slug hit him in the face. It dug deep,

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<v Speaker 1>hit reinforced bone and stopped. The little machines and roll

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<v Speaker 1>Land's blood were already cutting it apart by the time

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<v Speaker 1>he stopped musing and bounded over to the other flank man.

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<v Speaker 1>Roland chucked the two by four hard as he ran.

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<v Speaker 1>The wood impacted above the assassin's temple with an audible crack,

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<v Speaker 1>shattering the man's sphenoid bone. The battle drugs started to

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<v Speaker 1>trickle into Roland's synapses. Now a cocktail of endorphins, oxytocin, serotonin,

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<v Speaker 1>and epinephrin concocted to make violence as addictive as a

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<v Speaker 1>fat rock of crystal meth. Roland instantly wanted more, and

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<v Speaker 1>he knew he could trigger a greater dose by stomping

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<v Speaker 1>on the downed man's skull and ending his life. He

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<v Speaker 1>fought down the aarge and instead grabbed the man's a

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<v Speaker 1>a thirty two combat shotgun, and rolled for cover behind

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<v Speaker 1>a red rock boulder. He was almost fast enough, but

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<v Speaker 1>either the overwatch man had some aftermarket parts Roland hadn't smelled,

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<v Speaker 1>or all the hardcore drug abuse had done long term

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<v Speaker 1>damage to his reflexes. Maybe no more crack binges, Roland thought.

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<v Speaker 1>As a massive two bore slug ding most of his

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<v Speaker 1>left shoulder out into the desert behind him, Roland belted

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<v Speaker 1>out several fukwords as pain flooded the banks of his dampners,

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<v Speaker 1>and just that second, with truly exquisite timing, the Callahan

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<v Speaker 1>crew swiveled their weapon round and poured sonic fire at

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<v Speaker 1>him from above. For refraction of a second, everything went dark.

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<v Speaker 1>Roland's world was riotous, red, pain, and little else. If

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<v Speaker 1>his body had required the input of his conscious mind,

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<v Speaker 1>he would have been in a real pickle. During the

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<v Speaker 1>milliseconds it took for his dampners to cut through the

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<v Speaker 1>pain hayes, Roland's body dove ten feet to the left,

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<v Speaker 1>enough to take him out of the Callahan spray and

0:11:29.640 --> 0:11:32.920
<v Speaker 1>behind and outcropping of rocks. Two rounds cracked into the

0:11:32.960 --> 0:11:35.640
<v Speaker 1>rock above his head. Roland came back to himself as

0:11:35.640 --> 0:11:38.480
<v Speaker 1>the shards cut into his skin. He glanced down at

0:11:38.520 --> 0:11:41.000
<v Speaker 1>the ruin of his shoulder, His little blood robots were

0:11:41.040 --> 0:11:44.040
<v Speaker 1>already hard at work rebuilding the muscles, bones and sinews

0:11:44.040 --> 0:11:46.760
<v Speaker 1>blown out by the giant's slug. A couple of seconds

0:11:46.760 --> 0:11:49.440
<v Speaker 1>more and the limb would be usable again. But Rowland

0:11:49.520 --> 0:11:52.480
<v Speaker 1>had a better idea. He used his intact arm as

0:11:52.480 --> 0:11:55.440
<v Speaker 1>a flesh catapult and flung himself up over the boulder

0:11:55.640 --> 0:11:58.880
<v Speaker 1>towards the Callahan and its three guardians. The man with

0:11:58.960 --> 0:12:01.960
<v Speaker 1>the two boar fired again. Roland had known he would,

0:12:01.960 --> 0:12:04.800
<v Speaker 1>and his hind brain had already calculated the ideal emotions

0:12:04.800 --> 0:12:08.160
<v Speaker 1>to avoid the dozen most likely shot patterns. He sailed

0:12:08.200 --> 0:12:10.200
<v Speaker 1>over the half pound bullets with ease and used the

0:12:10.240 --> 0:12:12.800
<v Speaker 1>hand of his intact arm to rip his wounded arm

0:12:12.920 --> 0:12:15.920
<v Speaker 1>free at the shoulder. Roland landed hard in front of

0:12:15.920 --> 0:12:18.480
<v Speaker 1>the Callahan. He swung his own severed limb like a

0:12:18.559 --> 0:12:20.800
<v Speaker 1>club and knocked the barrel to the left. Then he

0:12:20.920 --> 0:12:23.120
<v Speaker 1>laid into the gun's crew with a mix of pounding

0:12:23.160 --> 0:12:25.240
<v Speaker 1>swings from the arm and stomps to the other men's

0:12:25.320 --> 0:12:29.400
<v Speaker 1>knees and ankles. Bone shattered, assassin screamed, The man with

0:12:29.440 --> 0:12:31.800
<v Speaker 1>the two boar and the newborn child at home wavered

0:12:31.840 --> 0:12:35.800
<v Speaker 1>and broke. Roland had expected this many normal humans, Even

0:12:35.840 --> 0:12:38.800
<v Speaker 1>hardened veterans, found it nauseating and unsettling to see a

0:12:38.840 --> 0:12:41.800
<v Speaker 1>man move as fast as he could move, add beating

0:12:41.800 --> 0:12:44.120
<v Speaker 1>their friends half to death with a severed limb, and well,

0:12:44.559 --> 0:12:47.760
<v Speaker 1>he'd predicted the guy would break. It's not your fault, buddy,

0:12:47.880 --> 0:12:50.720
<v Speaker 1>Roland thought, as he watched the man run. Don't feel bad.

0:12:51.120 --> 0:12:52.920
<v Speaker 1>He'd wanted to say that out loud, but he was

0:12:52.960 --> 0:12:56.760
<v Speaker 1>having trouble working his vocal cords. In roughly seven seconds,

0:12:56.880 --> 0:12:59.240
<v Speaker 1>Roland had eliminated five out of eight threats in the

0:12:59.320 --> 0:13:02.040
<v Speaker 1>kill team. His hind brain predictions had given him six

0:13:02.040 --> 0:13:05.040
<v Speaker 1>more seconds at least before the entry team cleared themselves

0:13:05.040 --> 0:13:07.640
<v Speaker 1>from the debris of his collapsed hovel. But the other

0:13:07.720 --> 0:13:10.000
<v Speaker 1>post human, the man who'd shone blank on most of

0:13:10.080 --> 0:13:13.839
<v Speaker 1>Roland's senses, had freed himself faster. Roland realized this when

0:13:13.840 --> 0:13:17.240
<v Speaker 1>a trio of fifty caliber slugs burst into his chest cavity.

0:13:17.640 --> 0:13:20.080
<v Speaker 1>He dropped, avoiding the last three rounds of the burst,

0:13:20.120 --> 0:13:22.520
<v Speaker 1>and rolled behind another pair of bowlders with his severed

0:13:22.600 --> 0:13:25.640
<v Speaker 1>arm in hand. The two female assassins were close to

0:13:25.679 --> 0:13:28.480
<v Speaker 1>freeing themselves now Roland could hear them struggle out through

0:13:28.520 --> 0:13:30.959
<v Speaker 1>the vibrations of their bodies in the red sand. He

0:13:31.040 --> 0:13:33.880
<v Speaker 1>couldn't see the other post human, but he'd triangulated his

0:13:33.960 --> 0:13:37.640
<v Speaker 1>most likely location. Unfortunately, the other fucker had him dead

0:13:37.679 --> 0:13:40.720
<v Speaker 1>to rights. If Roland broke cover, he'd be shot to pieces,

0:13:41.040 --> 0:13:43.760
<v Speaker 1>maybe more pieces than his traumel Organs could put back together.

0:13:44.640 --> 0:13:46.559
<v Speaker 1>All right, oh boy, to eat a bunch of lead

0:13:46.559 --> 0:13:49.120
<v Speaker 1>and charge the bastards, deploy the meat rockets and run

0:13:49.120 --> 0:13:51.719
<v Speaker 1>for a gun while they're blind. He suddenly remembered the

0:13:51.760 --> 0:13:54.920
<v Speaker 1>spring loaded assault razor embedded in his left forearm, and

0:13:54.960 --> 0:13:58.000
<v Speaker 1>then the twenty two millimeter grenade pistol buried in between

0:13:58.000 --> 0:14:01.000
<v Speaker 1>his small intestine and his sigmoid coal. Did I remember

0:14:01.080 --> 0:14:03.520
<v Speaker 1>to load it before shoving it in there? But before

0:14:03.559 --> 0:14:06.480
<v Speaker 1>he could take any action, the firefight was interrupted by

0:14:06.520 --> 0:14:19.040
<v Speaker 1>an oddly familiar voice. Hey, Roland, has its swinging. Roland

0:14:19.080 --> 0:14:22.080
<v Speaker 1>hadn't smelled or heard this new man coming. The voice

0:14:22.120 --> 0:14:24.640
<v Speaker 1>was very familiar. Roland felt a name on the tip

0:14:24.640 --> 0:14:27.760
<v Speaker 1>of his tongue, but it just wouldn't come. Weapons down,

0:14:27.880 --> 0:14:30.280
<v Speaker 1>lads and lasses. I've seen enough to guess the end.

0:14:30.880 --> 0:14:34.200
<v Speaker 1>Roland smelled frustration, waft off. The two women, now free

0:14:34.200 --> 0:14:37.640
<v Speaker 1>and angry, the other post human smelled like nothing, but

0:14:37.760 --> 0:14:41.280
<v Speaker 1>Roland felt him lower his weapon. Some gray, dead strand

0:14:41.320 --> 0:14:43.760
<v Speaker 1>of memory pulsed in the back of Roland's brain, and

0:14:43.800 --> 0:14:45.600
<v Speaker 1>he guessed that it was safe for him to stand

0:14:45.640 --> 0:14:48.200
<v Speaker 1>up now, So he did and put eyes on the

0:14:48.240 --> 0:14:52.200
<v Speaker 1>mystery man. The fellow had a lopsided, squarish jaw with

0:14:52.240 --> 0:14:55.720
<v Speaker 1>a very deliberate five o'clock shadow. His nose was thick

0:14:55.720 --> 0:14:58.720
<v Speaker 1>and bulby. His red hair was tangled into dreadlocks that

0:14:58.760 --> 0:15:01.600
<v Speaker 1>were more the result of in a tension than stylistic choice.

0:15:02.000 --> 0:15:04.880
<v Speaker 1>He was tall, muscular, but lean, with a bare chest

0:15:04.920 --> 0:15:08.080
<v Speaker 1>that was covered in tattoos of black snakes. They writhed

0:15:08.080 --> 0:15:10.440
<v Speaker 1>in time with the beating of his heart. He wore

0:15:10.560 --> 0:15:12.800
<v Speaker 1>nothing but a pair of red leather chaps and a broad,

0:15:12.960 --> 0:15:16.720
<v Speaker 1>calm smile. His bare penis swung pingulous in the breeze.

0:15:17.240 --> 0:15:19.920
<v Speaker 1>Both of his palms were extended out front and visible.

0:15:20.200 --> 0:15:22.240
<v Speaker 1>It was the kind of gesture one used to calm

0:15:22.280 --> 0:15:26.280
<v Speaker 1>an animal. Roland synapses fired and misfired, and a string

0:15:26.320 --> 0:15:29.520
<v Speaker 1>of fragmented memories ran through his mind. He recalled a

0:15:29.600 --> 0:15:32.360
<v Speaker 1>really good hot dog on a sunny day, push ups

0:15:32.360 --> 0:15:34.840
<v Speaker 1>in the mud, searing pain in his genitals and the

0:15:34.880 --> 0:15:38.840
<v Speaker 1>taste of shitty ditchweed. These memory fragments were all somehow

0:15:38.920 --> 0:15:41.120
<v Speaker 1>tied to the man in front of him. It took

0:15:41.200 --> 0:15:42.880
<v Speaker 1>Roland a moment, but as soon as he got a

0:15:42.880 --> 0:15:45.520
<v Speaker 1>full look at those cold gray eyes, the man's name

0:15:45.640 --> 0:15:50.640
<v Speaker 1>clicked in the place. Oh shit, he croaked, Jim. Roland

0:15:50.680 --> 0:15:54.320
<v Speaker 1>hadn't spoken to a person in months, at least maybe longer.

0:15:54.600 --> 0:15:57.000
<v Speaker 1>He sounded more like a suffering cat than an English

0:15:57.000 --> 0:16:02.360
<v Speaker 1>speaking human. But Jim understood him, he said. Roland's side

0:16:02.680 --> 0:16:05.480
<v Speaker 1>looked at his separate arm and crudely shoved it into place.

0:16:06.040 --> 0:16:08.360
<v Speaker 1>It had clotted a bit, and his stubb burned as

0:16:08.360 --> 0:16:10.960
<v Speaker 1>the tiny robots in his blood got to work reattaching

0:16:11.000 --> 0:16:14.720
<v Speaker 1>his once in future limb. Jim, he said, again, sounding

0:16:14.720 --> 0:16:16.800
<v Speaker 1>a bit less like a frog after a six day

0:16:16.800 --> 0:16:20.400
<v Speaker 1>coke bne, you funked up my house man. That's not cool.

0:16:21.400 --> 0:16:23.880
<v Speaker 1>Roland didn't know how long he'd known Jim. He couldn't

0:16:23.920 --> 0:16:26.400
<v Speaker 1>even pin down the man's last name, but he was

0:16:26.400 --> 0:16:29.680
<v Speaker 1>pretty sure they'd fought together back before the revolution, and

0:16:29.720 --> 0:16:32.480
<v Speaker 1>he was certain they'd had a threesome with a devilishly handsome,

0:16:32.480 --> 0:16:35.480
<v Speaker 1>spet SNAs man. He couldn't remember that guy's name or

0:16:35.480 --> 0:16:38.000
<v Speaker 1>why they'd all been in Panama, but he didn't expect

0:16:38.040 --> 0:16:40.120
<v Speaker 1>that was the sort of experience past him would have

0:16:40.120 --> 0:16:43.320
<v Speaker 1>shared with someone who wasn't a friend. Do you remember me,

0:16:43.880 --> 0:16:48.400
<v Speaker 1>Jim asked basically. Roland answered, good, because I got a

0:16:48.400 --> 0:16:55.240
<v Speaker 1>favor to ask. Hey, everybody, Robert Evans here. I hope

0:16:55.280 --> 0:16:57.400
<v Speaker 1>you just enjoyed the chapter you listen to. I hope

0:16:57.400 --> 0:16:59.680
<v Speaker 1>you enjoyed the chapters to come. If you would like

0:16:59.800 --> 0:17:02.480
<v Speaker 1>to read the text version of this book either on

0:17:02.520 --> 0:17:05.040
<v Speaker 1>the web or on your e reader as an e pub,

0:17:05.240 --> 0:17:07.639
<v Speaker 1>you can find those on the website a t r

0:17:07.720 --> 0:17:11.840
<v Speaker 1>book dot com. So again, the free ad free e

0:17:12.000 --> 0:17:14.520
<v Speaker 1>pub and the text of every chapter will be on

0:17:14.640 --> 0:17:16.879
<v Speaker 1>a t r book dot com. Thanks