Spreadsheet, part alt-7

Parity darted forward, noticing that all the wireframe pipes seemed to be tagged with identifiers that expanded like tooltips whenever she looked at them. That cluster of wires looked interesting. Parity found that by touching them she could see through the factory’s security cameras. She moved from one to another until she found the feed from one of the offices.

“—itch is in sensory deprivation right now,” Spreadsheet was saying. “Might leave her there for a few days. Make her easier to break down, so we can begin the reprogramming.”

“She has a ztrong vill, zat vun,” a German-accented voice said—the speaker was off-camera. “Even mitout a body, zhe coot be trouble.”

Spreadsheet snorted. “What can she do? I’ve locked out the interface. No, I’m the puppetmaster now; she’ll dance to my tune.”

“You know, zat is a mixt metaphor—”

“Hush, I’m pontificating. Yes, in just a few days I will have harnessed the power of the greatest computer ever yet made—the human brain. And I will have you to thank, Herr Doktor.”

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