They were small voices, and far away, and they did not seemterribly important. He turned and spat overboard, narrowlymissing !Xabbu, who stared back at him with an unreadable baboon expression. Her mother had told her to quit peeling the spray off it tolook, so she waited until she was all the way down the street and around the corner beforestopping her bike. It was barely audible, a murmur that rose and fell, but within a few steps Orlando knewthat such a sound could not be coming from Sam Fredericks.
Behind, a crowd of howling humans and mechanical people had reached the dock, but theirdreadful voices were already growing fainter as the barge pulled for the middle of the river. Itwouldn't be like helping to kill real people. Or at least that seemed to be what had happened. What's your real name? Ain't telling no names.
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