Sanborne 4216 had been watching the Arabs huddled at a table in a dark corner of the tavern. He rolled his shirtsleeve up and set the timer for the implant to blow in three minutes. Then he sat back and continued to observe his supposed targets.
His technicians had not programmed Sanborne 4216 to react emotionally, so he was confused feeling his heartbeat increase when someone began to sing a piercing rendition of Jeff Buckley's ‘Hallelujah.' All throughout his body of flesh and metal, muscle and wire, the circuits began firing and the blood began flowing with unusual quickness.
The motors in his neck ground and whirred as he sought out the source of the gospel. His head swiveled incrementally -- left, left, left, up, up . . .
Then he saw her on the stage. The woman's face was lit up by the blue glow of the lights above her. Beneath a black scarf, her long brown hair hung down past her narrow shoulders. Her eyes were closed.
The tavern had quieted, everyone sat listening to the woman sing ‘Hallelujah.' Sanborne 4216 felt his insides tighten. Impossible. His programming did not allow such feelings. The woman on stage opened her eyes and stared directly at him. Perspiration formed on his forehead. Again, impossible. The woman closed her eyes once more and leaned into the microphone.
He suddenly realized it wasn't the Arabs that Control had sent him in to destroy. Sanborne 4216 got up in a desperate panic, and was halfway to the exit when he heard the sharp click of the implant inside him snap into place.
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