“The data we would collect would be invaluable for correlating the model to the real thing.”
That he’s absolutely right is not the point. Ellie is more worried about what if, after all this work, the model is still too wrong in a way that matters and she detonates the bomb instead.
“I am not getting blown up because you want to see your car turn into a rhino.”
“What if we find a way to turn it back into a car first?” He withers under Ellie’s incredulous gaze. “Fine.”
They both retrace their steps. Scouring the model and gently probing the car’s undercarriage with this stimulus points out only minor mismatches. They update the model of the bomb and the car. It changes the number of horns the rhino has from one to two.
Still, that counts as progress. This behavior has to be a bug. No one designs a car bomb that intentionally turns the car into a rhinoceros. They can exploit this.
Simulation #65 makes the car explode into a mix of multicolored confetti and cranberry-lime seltzer. Being soaked and splattered with wet paper is embarrassing, but it wouldn’t kill her. Dusk has become night and Ellie wants this to be over. It’s been hours. This might be as close as they get.
“No, Ellie.” Daniel’s voice is surprisingly stern. “We are not blowing up my car.”
“You were fine with turning it into a rhino.” Ellie stands and stretches.
“There would still have been a bomb. We would have figured out how to change the rhino back.” Daniel gestures Ellie to sit. “If we’re not going to turn my car into a rhino, we are going to figure out how to extract the bomb.”
Not for the first time, Ellie is grateful for the concept of grammar. This is how Ellie can hear Daniel say yet another sentence that has never been said before in the history of the world and understand him. She sits back down but in a particularly protesting way. Or at least that’s how it seems in her head. Daniel probably just sees her sit.
Simulation #81 causes the bomb to detach from the car and drop, unexploded, onto the driveway. Both Ellie and Daniel turn to Ahdi, who does not react. He is a judge in one reality-TV cooking competition or another. No one will find out from him whether bread flour was the right choice or whether they should have gone with all-purpose.
Ellie and Daniel double-check everything that can be checked. They create a list of what Ellie will have to do. Miniature switches need to be jammed. Circuits need to be opened and components need to be replaced with a harmless load before they are closed up again. She rehearses the list again and again.
Ahdi has tire chocks, a jack, and four jack stands ready for them. Ellie’s relieved that Ahdi didn’t expect them to build those from scratch. They could have, but now they don’t have to. Ellie wedges the chocks under the tires. Daniel adjusts the height on the jack stands.
“We don’t need the jack,” Daniel explains as he sets the jack stands down next to the car’s jack points. “It’ll be faster if I pick up the car and you slide a stand into place.”
“Pick up… the car?” Ellie eyes him critically.
“It’s a subcompact.” Daniel looks vaguely defensive. “It’s not like it weighs anything.”
Daniel goes to the driver’s-side front, reaches underneath, andlifts. The only giveaway that it takes him any effort at all is that he lifts the car with exquisite form. The legs take most of the weight, not the back. Otherwise, it’s like watching someone pick up a piece of paper.
A tiny part of Ellie wants to take her sweet time getting the jack stand into place. The rest of her is happy to never be in a situation where she sees the limit of Daniel’s strength. That probably doesn’t go well for either of them. She swiftly slides the stand in, and Daniel gently lowers the car with absolute control. The other three go quickly and the car is ready for Ellie to work on. Daniel’s right. It was faster this way.
Ellie’s fingers light up with thin, laser-like beams. She slides under the car. Steadily, she picks apart the mechanism sprawled in a microscopically thin layer across the underside of the car. Methodically, she does what she rehearsed.
“Ellie, is there any chance you can do this faster?” Daniel never panics, but his voice can become urgent.
Ellie now notices what Daniel has noticed. They missed a deadman switch. It set off an alternate chain of events that will cause the bomb to go off. The chemical reactions play out in her mind. Her work has slowed it down, or else they’d be dead already. She has about six seconds, she estimates, to finish before it catches up. She needs at least two minutes.
“Not bad.” Ahdi’s voice feels practically subliminal, a scratch in the back of her mind. “You two got about ninety-five percent of the way.”
There’s a change in the air. Ellie can’t put her finger on what. The air is perhaps a little thinner. The chemical reactions have slowed drastically.
“Wait.” Ellie stops working. “What just happened?”
“I’ve given you some more time, Ellie.” Ahdi sounds much closer now, perhaps right next to the car. “We’ll go overeverything later at the postmortem, if you’ll excuse the expression. For now, you have work to do.”
Given the two minutes she needs, Ellie’s work goes smoothly. The bomb detaches from the undercarriage and glides past Ellie. It’s not what they simulated, but it’s not not what they simulated. Ellie rolls out from under the car only to find Daniel lowering it off the jacks.
The bomb, a vast sheet cluttered with hundreds of writhing tendrils, sits next to the car. The car is now solidly on the ground. Both Daniel and Ellie are drenched with sweat. The two stare at each other, unsure of what to do next. They’ve gotten it off the car, but it’s not like it can’t still explode.
“Now, step away—carefully, Daniel—and pull your car slowly out of the driveway when you leave.” Ahdi walks toward the bomb. “I’ll take care of this once you’re clear.”
“Well, it was good to meet you.” The bomb writhes between them, so Ellie merely waves her goodbye.
