"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.
Dorle laughed. "No one. No one fires it."
They stared at him. "What do you mean?"
"It fires itself."
They couldn't believe him. Nasha came close to him, frowning, looking up at him. "I don't understand. What do you mean, it fires itself?"
"Watch, I'll show you. Don't move." Dorle picked up a rock from the ground. He hesitated a moment and then tossed the rock high in the air. The rock passed in front of the gun. Instantly the great barrel moved, the vanes contracted.