Wastelands: Stories of the Apocalypse by Stephen King, George R. R. Martin, Cory Doctorow Page B

up an old database on how to splint its busted bones. He bought water filtration so that it could drink.
    I thought I'd made a good decision, putting the costs on Jaak, but I didn't really foresee the complications that came with having an unmodified organism in the bunker. The thing shit all over the floor, and sometimes it wouldn't eat, and it would get sick for no reason, and it was slow to heal so we all ended up playing nursemaid to the thing while it lay in its cage. I kept expecting Lisa to break its neck in the middle of the night, but even though she grumbled, she didn't assassinate it.
    Jaak tried to act like Musharraf. He talked to the dog. He logged onto the libraries and read all about old-time dogs. How they ran in packs. How people used to breed them.
    We tried to figure out what kind of dog it was, but we couldn't narrow it down much, and then Jaak discovered that all the dogs could interbreed, so all you could do was guess that it was some kind of big sheep dog, with maybe a head from a Rottweiler, along with maybe some other kind of dog, like a wolf or coyote or something.
    Jaak thought it had coyote in it because they were supposed to have been big adapters, and whatever our dog was, it must have been a big adapter to hang out in the tailings pits. It didn't have the boosters we had, and it had still lived in the rock acids. Even Lisa was impressed by that.

    I was carpet bombing Antarctic Recessionists, swooping low, driving the suckers further and further along the ice floe. If I got lucky, I'd drive the whole village out onto a vestigial shelf and sink them all before they knew what was happening. I dove again, strafing and then spinning away from their return slag.
    It was fun, but mostly just a way to kill time between real bombing runs. The new IR was supposed to be as good as the arcades, full immersion and feedback, and portable to boot. People got so lost they had to take intravenous feedings or they withered away while they were inside.
    I was about to sink a whole load of refugees when Jaak shouted. "Get out here! You've got to see this!"
    I stripped off my goggles and ran for the monitoring room, adrenaline amping up. WTien I got there, Jaak was just standing in the center of the room with the dog, grinning.
    Lisa came tearing in a second later. "What? What is it?" Her eyes scanned the theatre maps, ready for bloodshed.
    Jaak grinned. "Look at this." He turned to the dog and held out his hand.
    "Shake."
    The dog sat back on its haunches and gravely offered him its paw. Jaak grinned and shook the paw, then tossed it a food pellet. He turned to us and bowed.
    Lisa frowned. "Do it again."
    Jaak shrugged, and went through the performance a second time. "It thinks?" she asked.
    Jaak shrugged. "Got me. You can get it to do things. The libraries are full of stuff on them. They're trainable. Not like a centaur or anything, but you can make them do little tricks, and if they're certain breeds, they can learn special stuff, too."
    "Like what?"
    "Some of them were trained to attack. Or to find explosives." Lisa looked impressed. "Like nukes and stuff?" Jaak shrugged. "I guess." "Can I try?" I asked. Jaak nodded. "Go for it."
    I went over to the dog and stuck out my hand. "Shake."
    It stuck out its paw. My hackles went up. It was like sending signals to aliens. I mean, you expect a bio-job or a robot to do what you want it to. Centaur, go get blown up. Find the op-force. Call reinforcements. The HEV was like that, too. It would do anything. But it was designed.
    "Feed it," Jaak said, handing me a food pellet. "You have to feed it when it does it right."
    I held out the food pellet. The dog's long pink tongue swabbed my palm.
    I held out my hand again. "Shake." I said. It held out its paw. We shook hands. Its amber eyes stared up at me, solemn.
    "That's some weird shit," Lisa said. I shivered, nodding and backed away. The dog watched me go.
    That night in my bunk, I lay awake, reading. I'd turned out the