“Actually, I had a feeling something like this would happen,” said Quan. “Two opposing forces coming together, like two hands clapping.”
“Not sure I understand your meaning, sir.”
“I had a premonition. Two forces collided here.”
“You’ve lost me, sir.”
“Don’t look for logic in it.” Quan smiled. “I’m sure no harm will come to us.”
“Well, judging by the mess out there, I say we’re just damned lucky.”
“Maybe it’s the work we’re doing that makes us so lucky,” said Quan. “No need to alarm the others. Let’s tell them this was some sort of gas explosion. We don’t want to scare them. And get your bots out here to clean up the mess.”
“Aye, sir. Understood. I’ll tell them to stay away.”
Quan brought his hands together in a clap, turned, and walked away.
The remarks troubled McGowen. Where the young Jintao had always been logical, now he alluded to having some sort of psychic powers. McGowen turned and went back to the scene of the explosion, searching the grounds with his chocklight. On the highway, he found fresh tire tracks where a vehicle had pulled up near the ravine. The tracks were from a wide-bodied freighter with dual tires. The tracks made a U-turn.
Before sunrise, McGowen found another vehicle farther down the road, hidden among the acacias. It was a lightly armored two-seater with a duffel bag and the keys still in it. He drove it to a spot behind the laboratory and covered it with a tarp. By the time morning broke free of the inland hills, he and his team of construction bots disposed of the weapons and human remains, burying them deep along the southern property line.
45.
Quan called it a premonition, but it was more than that. Somehow he had become aware that an attack was coming. He could feel the hostile intentions and, as if the universe was telling him how it would end, a Koan had popped into his mind—What is the sound of one hand clapping?
Two forces, each with negative intentions, met on the grounds and in a thunderclap they canceled each other out. It was as though an unseen hand had reached in and subtracted negative numbers from both sides of an equation.
Nature always strives for balance, he thought. Following Newton’s third law of motion, where there is action there is always an equal and opposite reaction. It followed then, that the great enlightenment they had introduced to the world would likely be met with an equal measure of negative energy. While the future of the Brane Research Center was becoming brighter, the world around it was becoming darker.
Quan walked to his favorite spot at the edge of the bluff and sat for a time on the large flat rock, watching the sea surge against the shore below. Gradually he disappeared from view.
The sea is an intense purple: ebbing and cresting, its waves underscored in black. Particles everywhere, blurring the distinction between sky and earth. His father sits beside him . . . forming and re-forming.
“There was an event. We were attacked.”
[Equilibrium.]
“I wonder about the reciprocal effect. How will we evolve past the back and forth and bring enlightenment to the world?”
[Life moves to light.]
Quan reaches into the boiling dust. “This is the paradox. To see the whole, we must transcend—must become one with everything. And yet, without self-consciousness we won’t see the difference between ourselves and anything else. Pure instinct—the mind of an animal.”
[Self is an illusion.]
“I want to understand how it works.”
[Pointing at the moon will not take you there.]
“I’ve tried to communicate what I’ve learned, but I failed. If it’s impossible to convey, then each person will have to walk the path for themselves.”
[A posteriori.]
Quan pauses, studying the apparition.
“I know all that you’ve done for me and I’m grateful. I doubt that I will ever be able to understand the nature of this place to the extent that you do. You’ve been here for a long time. But I don’t understand how.”
[Only that which is finite requires sustenance.]
“Somehow, you gave up your body. I can’t do that.”
[Memory is the anchor.]
“Without memories of who I am, I would cease to exist.”
[Memories are illusion.]
“I feel like a yo-yo. When I’m there I’m drawn here, and when I’m here I’m drawn there.”
[Transcend.]
It’s the same cryptic answers every time. So difficult to digest. Fatigue is setting in. Quan has enough to think about. As he allows himself to settle back into the more familiar world of hard edges. The particles and the image of his father disperse.
Returning to his bungalow, Lotus and von Ang were waiting for him.
“I’m concerned about what happened,” said von Ang. “Gregory says you knew this was coming. Is that true?”
Quan clapped his hands together as if in prayer. “Can you just have a little faith? No harm will come to us. You have to believe that.”
“It’s true, then,” said von Ang. “You believe you saw this coming?”
“I had a premonition,” said Quan. “I saw triangles.”
“I saw triangles, too,” said von Ang. “It was a hallucination, and what does it have to do with the explosion?”
“Tell us,” said Lotus. “How does it fit together?”
“We both saw the same warning. The triangle is a triad. It’s a symbol used by a Chinese criminal cult,” said Quan.
“The Triad,” said Lotus.
“McGowen said it was a gas pocket,” said von Ang. “Now you’re telling us it wasn’t an accident. Am I to believe we were attacked by a Chinese gang?”
“Please,” Quan interrupted. “What happened was bad, but everything’s going to be okay. I asked McGowen to call it a gas explosion because I didn’t want anyone to panic. How my premonitions work isn’t important. I can’t explain it but now I know they’re valid. We’re going to be safe. I just know it’s true. Please believe me.”
Lotus asserted herself. “On the one hand, you tell us that a Chinese gang is trying to kill us, and on the other hand, you say ‘It’s going to be okay.’ I think you know more than you’re telling us.”
“Yes. Please explain why you think we’re going to be safe,” said von Ang. “We have no means to defend ourselves here.”
“First. What do you think went wrong?” asked Quan.
“In practical terms, our security field failed to detect the intruders,” said von Ang. “The reason it failed is because it doesn’t cover the outlying areas of the property. It is set up close to the compound. If they had come in closer we would have heard an alarm. We should add more sensors and expand the perimeter.”
“Go ahead then,” said Quan. “Engineer and install whatever you think will improve the system.”
“Certainly, the system can be improved,” said von Ang. “But I still want to know more about your assurance that we’re protected. By what? I’d like to know.”
“I don’t know how to explain without it sounding like I’m delusional. Go and add more security. It’s a good backup plan. I believe that what we’re doing is very much in line with natural law. This is an evolutionary step and I believe that we will prevail because we’re doing what we are supposed to be doing—moving toward the light.”
“You have abilities that we don’t have,” said Lotus. “I don’t understand how you see these things and frankly, it’s a little spooky.”
Outside, a covey of quail flushed from a thicket, startled by an unseen threat.
San Francisco
In the upstairs dining room of the Imperial Palace, Honzu listened as the Red Pole leader recounted his misadventure. Through binoculars he witnessed the carnage. There was nothing he could do. He drove away.
As the man spoke, Honzu’s blood pressure rose.
“Drink your tea,” said Honzu, setting a cup down in front of the man. “You were their lea
der. You should have gone with them. You should have died with them.”
As Big Yao set the cup down, his eyes opened wide and his hand went to his throat. Honzu watched as the heavyset man slumped in his chair and slowly keeled over, face down on the floor, his lips turning black.
“Get him out of my sight,” yelled Honzu.
Two men grabbed Yao’s arms and dragged him out of the room.
There was no way to conceal the failure, and now Honzu would have to explain the botched mission to the 14K chapter of New Hong Knog. He opened a com line and, after reporting the failure, he complained, “Why weren’t we told they were armed?”
“We should have given this job to our brothers in Los Angeles,” said the voice on the other end. “They’re more reliable. Your loss of face is shameful, however this is still your responsibility—even more so now. You will see it through and you will avenge your fallen brothers.”
“They will be avenged,” promised Honzu.
46.
Central California
Before dawn broke over the coastal mountains, Quan was awake. He sat up in bed and spoke a command. Room dividers retracted, opening his bedroom to a view of the living room with its floor-to-ceiling outer doors. He could see the sprawling oak tree and the large flat rock and the cliffs veiled in mist. He spoke again and the outer glass doors telescoped silently back into the walls, letting in the scent of wild sage. Reaching to his side, he brought up another pillow, putting it behind his head. His hand slid across the sheet to the other side of the bed—empty. No Sealy. He was alone.
He had made difficult choices and yet, as his confidence was unshakable. Publishing the machine plans had not cured all of his problems, but it was a step in the right direction. In the larger scheme of things, the plans were of no consequence. How many eyes were studying them at that very moment. Quite a few he suspected.
The plans were complicated, spanning over a hundred pages: part drawings, assembly diagrams, schematics, parts lists, and computations. It would take quite a while for even the most diligent team to understand them and longer for them to actually build a machine. On one of the schematics, at the center of a controller board, was a small ROM chip labeled “7-2521.” It contained the compiled run-time codes necessary to operate the machine’s complex subsystems. Eventually the technicians would discover that the chip wasn’t available from any known supplier and the run-time codes were not included in the plans. Without the codes, the machine was just a very expensive assembly of unrelated components. And for anyone to create the run-time codes from scratch would take months if not years of trial and error.
All along this was Quan’s plan. He assigned ownership rights to the Jintao Corporation and very soon everyone would know that it was the sole source of chips containing the embedded codes.
As the sun lifted higher, the mist began to clear and banks of orange poppies began to open along the cliff’s edge. A brown lizard positioned itself on top of the big flat rock and did its morning push-ups.
Turning his cheek to the cool pillowcase, Quan looked at Sealy’s side of the bed. Even though he missed her, there was always the possibility that the center would be attacked again and bringing her and their child to the Research Center would put them both at risk. Returning to China would result in his arrest and would also leave the research center vulnerable—without his special capabilities.
There must be a way home.
Quan left the comfort of his bed and went to shower and begin his day. An hour later, he was six meters below ground, in the laboratory, telling McGowen about the chips.
“So, you clever lad. You published the machine design but left out the software,” said McGowen. “I don’t remember reading that in The Book of Thirty-Six Strategies.”
“It’s from the book of Microsoft—hardware is just the platform. Software is where the real value is.”
“Braw,” chuckled McGowen. “Speaking of software, David turned out to be useful. While you were gone, I asked him to see what he could do with the reactor cooling program and he boosted efficiency by twenty-two percent.”
“Impressive,” said Quan.
While McGowen went on bragging about the young man, Quan became uneasy. He walked over to von Ang who was having his morning espresso. “Does David have access to the run-time codes?”
“No,” said von Ang. “Only you and I and McGowen have access.”
“Can you check to see if anyone else has accessed the file?”
Von Ang went to his view field and brought up the access logs. Looking at the last month’s entries, sure enough, there it was. Several unauthorized saves.
“Did you know about this?” asked von Ang.
“Call it another premonition.”
Quan called out to McGowen, “We need to have a talk with David.”
“Why? What is it?” asked McGowen.
“He’s accessed the run-time codes.”
“On it I am.” And McGowen bolted from the lab.
Minutes later the elevator doors opened and the young East Indian stepped out, grinning. Greeting Quan with his Hindi accent, he said, “Dr. Jintao. So pleased you are back. Your disclosures at the conference were most impressive, I must say. And what you did—allowing everyone to share the invention—it was most beneficent—a wonderful thing to be sure. Most generous.”
“Thank you, David, but I have a concern. We see that you’ve accessed the run-time codes. Tell us why.”
“To get a better idea of how the machine works, sahib.”
“I see. And how did you get past our security encryptions?”
“Oh, that was most challenging, I must say,” said David, pursing his smile.
McGowen flushed. “Sir, I had no idea he would . . .”
Behind them, von Ang was working at his view field, “I’m doubling security on those files.”
“It appears you downloaded the file. Tell me why,” asked Quan, calmly studying the young man.
David’s eyes fixed on him. “Oh my gracious me.”
“Did you think our source code was yours to do with as you please?”
David took a step back, slipping his hand into his pocket.
McGowen raised his voice and moved toward David, “You’re a big disappointment, boy. We trusted you.”
“Wait,” said Quan, raising a cautionary hand. “We need to understand what happened—and why. David, why would you copy our source code?”
David backed up to the elevator and reached a hand behind him, pressing the button. As the door opened, he stepped backwards and, dropping his pretense, he began to speak in a distinctly American accent. “It’s what I do, man. Just a job. That’s all.”
“Who are you working for? Who’s paying you?”
“This is way over your head, man,” said David, his composure becoming more serious as he felt around behind him for the elevator button. “Don’t take it personally.”
“Phoney little shit,” said McGowen.
“Was it the Americans?” asked Quan. “And now that you have the codes. What are you going to do? Did you think we’d just let you walk out of here?”
The elevator door was closing and McGowen quickly thrust his arm inside to grab David. “Come here, you!”
David jumped to the side and out of his pocket came a small TENS unit. It discharged into McGowen’s arm and his muscles went into spasm.
“Like I said, it’s nothing personal,” said David.
The big Scot jerked back, rubbed his arm, and growled, “You won’t get far, kid.”
The elevator door closed.
“I’ve got this,” said Quan as he began to dissolve into the Braneworld. Two strides and he was inside the elevator.
Studying the dark figure next to him, Quan sees a small object, a fingernail-sized disk, implanted at David’s temple just beneath his hair, most likely a data bank. And in one of David’s pockets he spots a jelly-bean-sized homing device.
Seconds later, Quan materialized as the elevator doo
rs were opening at the lobby. He spoke calmly. “Why leave when there is so much more you could learn?”
“Whoa!” said David, jumping back against the elevator wall. “How’d you—what the?”
“I told you. There’s a lot to learn.” Quan pressed the elevators down button.
“I don’t get it. What do you want from me?”
“Good question. You have talent, for one thing, and it’s no accident you’re here. I believe this is where you’re supposed to be.” The elevator door opened again in the laboratory.
“Come here peckerwood,” said McGowen, grabbing David’s coat—pulling him and spinning him around. He pointed to a stool and barked, “Sit.”
“Stay here with him,” said Quan, stepping into the elevator. “We’ll finish this in a few minutes.”
With the big Scotsman hovering over him, a despondent David sat and watched the elevator door close.
Before leaving for the Paris convention, Quan relayed the run-time codes and a list of patent claims to the Jintao legal department. The claims broadly covered the general principles without disclosing specific algorithms and values. By now the claims were in the hands of patent agencies worldwide, naming the Jintao Corporation as assignee—sole manufacturer of the essential chip.
Stepping into the daylight, Quan opened a com line to Green. After listening to the story, Green said, “Let me see if he transmitted anything. My security stack would have traced it. Hold on. Yep, there’s something. Looks like he started to transmit but spotted the trace and bailed. He’s good. Got a destination, though . . . hold on . . . nope, that’s a VPN. . . hold on . . . going deeper . . . nope, a phony IP. Hang with me, I’m gonna run this through a different server. Working . . . working . . . nope, a road to nowhere. Wait. Let me dig into his ID. Okay, pulling his sheet. Before he worked with me he was with Cyber Ops. Just a sec . . . I’m using my clearance. Okay, found his file. Uh-oh, now I see it. The kid’s got history... before Cyber Ops. He’s not Gupta and he’s not East Indian. Try Gepeta from Queens . . . high-level hacker . . . string of online aliases back into his teens. He was popped for hacking a com sat and flipped to work for Cyber Ops. Sorry. Didn’t see this before. We needed help in a pinch and Cyber Ops had already cleared him. Your call. What do you want me to do?”
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