If it works, he thought. If it only works. If there isn't some sort of slip-up, some kind of unseen factor.
A squirrel skipped across the grass, sat up on its haunches and took a long look at him. Then, deciding that he was not dangerous, it started a busy search in the grass for imaginary buried treasure.
Cut loose, thought Sutton. Cut loose from everything that holds me. Cut loose and get the job done. Forget Trevor and his Revisionists, forget Herkimer and the androids. Get the book written.
Trevor wants to buy me. And the androids do not trust me. And Morgan, if he had the chance, would kill me.
The androids do not trust me.
That's foolish, he told himself.
Childish.
And yet, they did not trust him. You are human, Eva had told him. The humans are your people. You are a member of the race.
He shook his head, bewildered by the situation.
There was one thing that stood out clearly. One thing he had to do. One obligation that was his and one that must be fulfilled or all else would be with utterly no meaning.