I’m crying, I’m crying, I’m crying, I’m crying.– JACK “Come out of there and into the light of the All-Seeing,” repeats the heavy male voice. I’ve got my hands up, ready to blast them if they come through the door. Tap whips out a pistol I didn’t even know he had and works the chamber, feeding a round into the pipe, just like they taught us back on campus. “No, I don’t think we will, man,” Tap yells. “Why don’t you come back here if you want to talk.” There’s a metallic clatter and then a gasoline can sloshes into the office area, rolling, slinging liquid all over the tile floor in a spreading pool. The torchlight from outside the room grows stronger. A thick voice, a woman’s, calls out, “You two. Come to us, and we will speak of your situation. No one can hide from the sight of the Panopticon. If you don’t, you’ll be given to the fire.” Tap looks at me. Can you knock down a wall or something? We can fly the hell out of here. I can try, I say, waving him back, away from the gasoline.
