“My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts…”
Akira raised an eyebrow, tilted her head off center, but managed to keep her focus on the incoming Blackhawks.
“Does that chant work on a mass scale?” Lasseter smirked.
“It seemed appropriate, that’s all I could think of…”
Paul’s eyes went wide as the Universe expanded within him, as the nanites activated themselves in the minds of those around him; activated his neurons, his every synapse, and connected him to a sea of minds that was vast, endless. It was an ocean of consciousness and Paul was riding the wave.
He was looking down on himself from inside the helicopter. He saw the four of them on stage, Lasseter, Billy-Bob and Akira huddled ‘round him in a protective circle, like a herd of elephants protecting a newborn from an attacking pride of lions.
He was two places at once. It couldn’t be, but it was.
There was no time to think, question, analyze. That would come later. He was seeing himself through the thick film of a helmet, the vision smudged, blurry: he was the door gunner, aiming at himself, finger on the trigger.
The helicopter was descending hot, fast. The targets, stationary: should be an easy kill. The Blackhawks were swinging towards the targets like pendulums, swaying from left to right. Although stationary targets were easy to hit, I need to remember to aim not directly at them, but I need aim so the bullets run into the targets, which in this case meant aiming approximately a foot to the left, using the momentum of the flightpath to swing the bullets right into the group.
“I wonder what will happen to my consciousness if I rip myself a few new assholes with this .50 caliber…” Paul found himself wondering as he fingered the trigger.
“Gunner, take the shot.”
The command came through the headset loud and clear.
The pilot screamed: “What the fuck are you waiting for?”
“Those are Americans down there…” Paul yelled back in a voice that his but not his, keeping his grip on the gun. “Do you want another Tiananmen square?”
“Orders, gunner. Shoot or we’ll have to swing by for another pass. They could bolt. Shoot now!”
Paul felt a hand pull his shoulder. He spun, looked directly at the face of Billy-Bob stepping out of the shadows.
“We gotta go! Get behind me!”
“Bruh! I got this!”