"No. I can feel it, though. Don't you?"
Nasha smiled a little. "I feel nothing, but perhaps I'm more used to
being stared at." She turned her head slightly. "Oh!"
Dorle reached for his hand weapon. "What is it? What do you see?" Tance
had stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth half open.
"The gun," Nasha said. "It's the gun."
"Look at the size of it. The size of the thing." Dorle unfastened his
hand weapon slowly. "That's it, all right."
The gun was huge. Stark and immense it pointed up at the sky, a mass of
steel and glass, set in a huge slab of concrete. Even as they watched
the gun moved on its swivel base, whirring underneath. A slim vane
turned with the wind, a network of rods atop a high pole.
"It's alive," Nasha whispered. "It's listening to us, watching us."
The gun moved again, this time clockwise. It was mounted so that it
could make a full circle. The barrel lowered a trifle, then resumed its
original position.
"But who fires it?" Tance said.