Lifts 350 pounds

Julien followed us around to the back of the van, standing back while we opened the doors. A black box that was a bit larger than a washing machine was sitting in there, strapped down ten ways from Sunday, to keep it from sliding around when the vehicle moved.

*****

It took a few minutes, but I unclipped the straps that were securing the box in place, and laid them across the ground. I lifted the box, and set it down on the straps. I connected them, wrapping them around the box, then slid it around so I could reach the ones at the back. There was a ramp built into the truck, and I could see where the box could slide along the tracks, but it seemed like more of a hassle to use the ramp and unload that way.

*****

I fastened the straps, then hauled the entire thing out, forcefield up, gripping the box. It thudded against the street. Dense.

*****

The straps served to let me hold the box without actually holding it. I flew, holding the length of straps that I'd wound together and attached at the tail end. The box made for unwieldy flying, swinging below me.

Could the forcefield potentially claw through them? Yes. I hoped I'd be able to see it before it managed to succeed.

I flew in the direction I'd sent the others, leaving Kenzie behind.

My phantom self gripped the length of straps, scratched, squeezed, and twisted it, periodically making the ten foot length of cords bend in unusual shapes.

I hadn't interacted with it much. I hadn't seen the limits of its intelligence or lack thereof. This one minute of flying might have even been the longest period I'd properly used my strength in two years.

I sighted the others, sitting on the rocks and talking. I dropped low, and I set the box down on the ground. Even with the care I was taking, it made a noise on landing.

"Wow," Tristan said. "How heavy is that thing?"

"No idea," I said. "If I had to guess, maybe three hundred and fifty pounds?"

- Glare 3.2