Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
In his phenomenal debut, Daemon, Daniel Suarez introduced a terrifying vision of an unstoppable computer program unleashed on our world bu a hi-tech wunderkind. But now, our world is Daemon's world- unless someone stops the program once and for all...
they’re going haywire. These attacks here in the Midwest are a threat to the whole network. I’ll bet no single thing has ever been upvoted this high.” He looked to Ross. “The world is watching what happens here.” The sheriff shrugged. “So what? So what if everyone cares? What does that do for us? The situation we’re in isn’t going to be solved by angry posts and best fucking wishes. Public outrage has never stopped these bastards.” Fossen looked determined. “Jon, we’re just second-level. What can
Between his feet he could see thousands of feet to the broad plain below. He was actually level with the nearby clouds. Then he heard the roar of approaching aircraft engines. He wriggled his body to turn enough to see— and there, some miles away, he could see the head-on view of what looked to be a C-130 cargo plane, chopping at the wind on a collision course with him. He watched it with silent amazement. No effing way . . . As the plane approached he could see what looked to be a V-shaped fork
bodies. He crawled on his belly toward Price, who was trying to sit up. Price shouted. “Are you hit?” Sebeck shook his head. “No! This is someone else’s blood!” Just then the pack of unmanned bikes parted to make way for a lone rider in a black helmet and riding suit. He drove directly up to Price and Sebeck and looked down at them. He dismounted his bike, and suddenly all the engines turned off. A gesture of his hand sent a bolt-straight arc of electricity into the wood chipper, killing its
moments before the razorbacks arrived. He felt the contours of the newly acquired pistol in the darkness. Twin safetys. Probably a Sig Sauer. He hefted it. A .45—and loaded, judging by the weight. He chambered a round as the engines revved behind him. He heard agonized screams and ringing of steel. The Major ran blindly through the bushes now under cover of the screams and engines. Branches hit his face as he pushed through the thick of it and soon he emerged into a golf cart lane flanked by soft
being founded. Roy Merritt had been Loki’s enemy, but unlike The Major, Merritt was a worthy opponent— resourceful, personally courageous, and honest. Loki felt a twinge of anguish at the memory of Merritt dying before his eyes. They called him the Burning Man because he’d survived the death trap Sobol’s house had become—and he did it all on video. Video that had since been seen by just about everyone on the darknet. Merritt had seemed invincible. But he was a man too idealistic for this world.