Análisis cualitativo narrativo de las comunicaciones virtuales y presenciales

In a cheap downtown hotel room, a T-799 "Eve" Terminator sat totally still on a metal-framed chair, concentrating on the sounds and images of a late night news broadcast It had spent the evening reviewing its best options, as successive bulletins clarified the situation in Colorado Springs. Now that it was certain John Connor had escaped the Cyberdyne facility, the Terminator made a decision.

Time to act. Time to find Connor.

The T-799 was an advanced design, a cyborg being with engineered human flesh on a hyperalloy combat chassis. It resembled a very tall woman in her twenties, or early thirties, with white-blonde hair cut in an aggressive flattop style. Its lean, strong-looking body was muscular, though without massive bulk-like an Olympic pole-vaulter's. It wore black denim jeans, matching low-heeled boots, and a dirty white T-shirt-an outfit appropriated from an inebriated young woman who'd turned down a very bad alley shortly after the T-799's arrival. Despite its impressive musculature, the Terminator's great strength was generated from an internal power cell, then deployed through a system of miniature servomotors that controlled its endoskeleton. The skin and flesh were merely camouflage.

Like other T-799s and T-800s, it exactly copied a Resistance soldier who'd been terminated by Skynet's forces in the world that it came from. In the case of the Eve class Terminators, this was a soldier from the Canadian Resistance.

It stood and switched off the TV, then strapped on a leather holster with a Colt .45 caliber handgun, hiding it under a black vinyl jacket. It strode out into the night, not bothering to close the door behind it. There was no reason to return.

It had not searched positively for John Connor since August 1997, when the scheduled date of Judgment Day had come and gone. On August 29, 1997, it had confirmed what was already becoming obvious, that it was now in a different reality from the one it been sent from. It had entered a world without Skynet and its killer

machines. In the reality it had come from, Connor had survived Judgment Day 1997 by living and working on an estancia in Argentina, owned by the Tejada family. The Terminator had been given a file on this. With some effort, it could always track Connor down.

In 1997, it had made certain inquiries, but they'd proved fruitless. Since then, it had merely watched and waited, analyzing political and technological developments, but taking no other initiative. There was no need to act hastily, or bring attention to itself. The nature of its mission allowed for Connor to grow to manhood. With Cyberdyne Systems still actively researching nanoprocessor technology, he would eventually appear in public to oppose it-as he had tonight. The T-799 could afford to be patient: it could operate for 120 years on its power cell, and the passage of time did not endanger its mission.

Sooner or later, it would find Connor, then act as it had been programmed. Outside, it was a warm summer night, but the street and pavement were almost deserted in this part of the city. Occasionally, a car or truck drove past. Two young women walked by, dressed in revealing clothing-terminating them was not a mission priority. A teenage couple walked toward the Terminator, hand in hand, both of them dressed in denim jeans and jackets. It made no move to harm them, though it would have taken their lives in a moment if they'd compromised its mission. Like many others in this city, they would never know how close they had come to the cold hands of death.

When they'd gone, the Terminator chose a vehicle, an older model Chrysler sedan. It smashed the driver's side window with a single sharp punch, then reached in to open the door.

A taxi passed by without interfering, then another. But a police car came from around the corner, trapping the Terminator in its headlights. The squad car screeched to a halt on the other side of the road, as the Terminator climbed in the sedan, pushing back the seat to make room for its long legs. With another decisive blow, it smashed open the cowl around the steering column, ready to start the Chrysler.

A cop jumped out of the police car, waving his arms and shouting. "Hey! You can't do that!"

The Terminator smashed away the rest of the glass from the driver's window. "Wrong," it said, reaching for its Colt .45.

car! Put your hands in the air. Do it!"

The T-799 heard fear in his voice: it was programmed to make basic judgments about its enemies' emotions. It squeezed the trigger, but the cop also fired. A round penetrated the Terminator's shoulder muscle, but had no effect on the underlying metal skeleton. The Terminator kept firing: once, twice, three times— faster than a human being could have done it. The cop spun with the impact of the bullets, bounced against the side of his car, then fell to the road.

The T-799 started the stolen Chrysler. It crushed the accelerator to the floor, and drove out of there with the engine roaring and rubber squealing on the road. It headed out of the city, driving south and east, toward the Mexican border. Its highest probability of success was to reach Enrique Salceda's compound, then wait for Connor. He and his mother would certainly retreat to join the Salcedas after their latest raid on Cyberdyne. When it met them, the T-799 had a specific course of action it must take.

It never considered failure.

CHAPTER

THREE