“You just woke up? Well this is a mighty terror, isn’t it?”

Red LEDs followed Charles. The little lights burned on the columns around him. Reflected off the wet concrete. Blinded him. Down the corridor they were dim, he could see out into the night, catch a glimpse of the city under streetlights and billboards. But he couldn’t get there, the motion sensors tracked him, lights erupted in a thousand pointed halo wherever he went, and there was that voice at every turn. He scuttled farther along the corridor, red lights rolling alongside. He couldn’t see it. He couldn’t outrun it. There was something at the end of the corridor. Some looming mass with its edges barely denoted by the dull glow of the light. He tried not to look at it and juked backward between two columns.

An unseen hand grabbed his collar and spun him back into the center.

“Can’t stop now,” that goddamn calm voice slid under his consciousness.

“Lessons to learn, Charles. Every time, new lessons,” those words were outside of his head, spoken aloud, an entirely different voice. Sarcastic, haughty.

“Who the fuck are you, man? What do you want?” Charles’ voice cracked.

“Do you know what lunging a horse is, Charles?”

He backed away from the voice, to the other side of the corridor. Tried not to look toward the end. “What are you talking about, you some kind of freak?”

“Keep him talking, keep him distracted,” said the thoughts in the back of his head.

“You can’t leave them in the barn all the time.” The stranger’s voice was behind him again. Nearly in his ear.

Charles leapt away. When he looked back there was nothing but red lights.

“Alternatively, you can’t just leave them on their own out in the pasture.”

The voice was all around Charles. He bolted toward the end of the corridor.

“Charles, stop spooking Charles,” the stranger said. “So you slipped the reins this time. I’m very proud, but if you don’t calm him down and come back to the barn, I will have to be considerably more stern.”

The heap at the end of the corridor was coming into focus under the lights. Charles felt a lump rising in his throat. He wanted to stop but something drove him on. An unseen force raised his hand and clasped the metal skull atop the pile of robotic limbs.

He felt the round hit his shoulder; it took a moment before he associated his convulsing arm with the sound of the gunshot.

“Charles, you know you aren’t supposed to touch the exhibit.”

“You fucking shot me!” Charles crumpled.

“Yeah, sorry about that, Charles was not being cooperative,” the stranger knelt and dropped a small box.

The pile of parts was the center of a massive art installation. The eyes on the skull darted around until they focused on the stranger. The robot clanked and tumbled and unfolded into a large humanoid.

The stranger racked another round into his shotgun.

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