human
Sharp,
gpt
Sharp enough to split Oren skulls.
human
And that's all you're looking for?
gpt
I don't know. Ever hear of the Maquis?
human
Two wars ago? The French underground? I remember vaguely. I was a _little_ urchin then.
gpt
They had a goal like mine, I guess. To harass. They couldn't win, and they knew it. They killed and wrecked and maimed because they hated. I want to organize a band of Oren-killers--with no purpose save to ambush and slaughter. I sat on that island and thought and thought--and I got disgusted with myself for hiding.
human
Wish I had some clothes,
gpt
Ambush, slaughter, and _rob_,
human
Rob?
gpt
Oren's taken our cities. He's reorganizing industry. With individuals coordinated by a mass-mind, it'll be a different kind of industry, a more efficient kind. Think of a factory in which a worker at one position shares consciousness with a worker in another position. Does away with control mechanisms.
human
You said 'rob'.
gpt
When they get production started, there'll be plenty to steal. Guns; explosives--clothes.
human
Trouble is: every time you kill an Orenian, they all feel him die. They come running.
gpt
Sometimes. Unless they're too busy. They don't care too much about individual deaths. It's the total mental commune of Oren that matters. Like now. They could find us if they really tried. But why should they? They'd come as recruiting agents--with bared stingers--if they came.
human
They'll come tomorrow,
gpt
We'll try to be ready.
human
I still want to team up with you.
gpt
Okay--if you'll follow me without argument.
human
I can take orders. She folded her arms behind her head and leaned back with a grin. Her breasts jutted haughtily beneath a torn blouse.
gpt
Hell, I'm not marrying you!
human
You will, Morgan, you will.
gpt
Don't trip over the cord in the night,
human
What the devil's wrong?
gpt
Thanks, Morgan--thanks,