CARRIE HAD DECIDED to return to the factory that had become a nest of baby devices. It was nighttime, and sleet was coming down hard. She didn’t seem to really feel it much, though it was hard to see through it. The factory doors loomed ahead. The police tape had vanished and the Unity troops who were supposed to be guarding it seemed to be taking a break.
Carrie hadn’t brought her key, but when she pushed on the door, it swung open. The factory was dark inside. Shadowy shapes were moving around. Placktoids. Baby ones scurried across the floor, moving as one, like a shoal of fish. The mechanical devices were dancing. They were performing a kind of ballet, leaping and pirouetting. Their movements were graceful and fluid. Behind them, like a menacing backdrop, the placktoids Carrie knew so
