by Dane, Max
Ben walked over to the window and looked out.
“So don’t be put off, if you are assigned more work, or different work. We are all adapting for a huge ramp-up in activity,” he said.
“Okay, thanks Ben. I’ll be ready to help regardless.”
“Thanks Ryan, as usual, don’t hesitate to contact me if you need anything.”
As Ryan walked back to his office, he looked over at the programmers’ area and saw a lot of activity. Just like yesterday.
Something was definitely up, and it showed.
He hoped his investigation wasn’t re-prioritized. He was finally getting somewhere.
First things first though, he needed to track down Laura’s friend at the Sydney facility. After comparing notes with them, he needed to get with Dorothy.
It was a good morning.
Across the floor, Jim stared at the screens above his desk.
Thor and Loki, the Norse gods of might and mischief.
He thought the names were a perfect fit.
He had only minutes before the Zimmerman lab group would be here to talk with him about the setup for their new supercomputers.
He looked at the specs again.
These would the facility’s thoroughbreds, groomed and trained for war. He had spent last night reading up on these machines, and was more excited now than he was yesterday. There were whole countries with less processing power than these two could produce.
He’d made arrangements for Theresa to call him when their group arrived. There really wasn’t much to talk about; he already knew how to install and then set them up. He imagined that Zimmerman wanted to make sure he knew.
While waiting for them to arrive, he took a moment to glance at the hospital security logs, looking again for the code fragment. The fragment was there with a timestamp of 8:01 PM.
It happened again.
Exactly one minute after he stopped watching, just exactly as it had on his previous tests. Instantly he was irritated.
Theresa called, “Jim, they’re here. I put them in the second conference room.”
“Okay, thanks Theresa. I’m on my way.”
Quickly, he adjusted his script to move the window; this time it would be 2:00 AM to 3:00 AM. If this persisted much longer he would have no choice but to report it. There was something more than odd happening here. Grabbing his things, he left for the conference room.
When he arrived, there were the usual lab people he had come to expect. There were the graduate students, young and wearing jeans. They made no decisions, asked painful questions, and generally made these meetings harder than they needed to be.
There were the lab administrators, older and wearing slacks and knit shirts. They asked the right questions, and focused on the details. A good admin made the meeting flow; a bad one would sit back and let it drag on. Then you had the actual scientists, much older wearing white lab coats. These would generally not care about any of the details, arrive only at the first meetings for introductions, and then leave before they were over.
It was the administrator he wanted to meet first, but it would be the scientist who expected it.
He walked up to the only man in a lab coat, extended his hand like it was present and said, “Dr. Zimmerman, a pleasure to meet you.”
The man did not rise, and only barely shook hands. With an accent so think Jim could barely understand what he was saying, the man introduced the figures around the table.
Sure enough, one scientist, one administrator, and three graduate students; he nailed it.
Smiling, Jim said, “It’s good to have you here, and it will be awesome to have your computers here.”
Zimmerman leaned back, “Und vwat is oor nam?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I am Jim Safe, and I will be the man that sets them up.”
Jim sat down in the middle of the table, “And I have to tell you that from what I’ve read about these machines, this is gong to be a lot of fun. I can’t wait to get started.”
One of the grad students spoke up, “They are two identical models. Nashimi Bio-Ultimas with the biogel and silicon synthesis processors. They are even faster than SID.”
‘And so it began,’ he thought, ’say hello to the grad students.’
Jim’s personal hero, Steven Ranks, created Sid and he wasn’t about to let that go unchallenged.
“Maybe in single operations, but SID is designed to handle multiple operations each with high complexity, simultaneously around the planet. There is still quite a degree of separation there.”
The worse thing you could do in a meeting would be to let the grad student keep talking. So without pausing, Jim continued, “So, who has questions for me regarding installation?”
On cue, the scientist stood up and left without a word, only waving slightly in the general direction of the meeting.
The administrator began, “I have a list of points to go over, but I’ve worked with IntelliHealth before, and I’m sure it won’t take very long. Your facilities are the best around.”
They talked about power consumption, location and lighting. Then they talked about the cooling system. Apparently, the bio-silicon chips had one weakness, heat. They necessarily required their own cooling system. The hardware required to maintain their temperature were huge, nearly as big as the computers themselves, and they operated independently of the Nashimi machines.
Pretty crazy stuff, but Jim had no problem assuring them it would be done to spec. Eventually, they ran out of questions, agreed on an installation date and left to finish preparing for their move into the building.
Jim returned to his cubicle, and sent appropriate messages to facilities, the network guys and David, regarding details for installation. The installation was scheduled for two weeks from now.
David stood up and looked over the cubicle, “Did you tell them what you named them?”
“No, not yet.”
Jim didn’t want to give them time to think of different names. He’d tell them after it was already done. Secretly, he gave himself a high-five.
It was the Tuesday after the faculty meeting in the auditorium, and Jeff got to work about thirty-five minutes late.
Yesterday had been rough.
He still had not figured out whether he should tell his wife what he knew. The emotional stress of their fertility treatments, and the failed attempts afterward had taken their toll on both of them. For a year they had tried. The knowledge he had now, would crush her. He didn’t know what the right answer was, so he would keep the secret safe a little while longer.
Jeff arrived and was just getting settled when Dr. Bender knocked on his door.
“Jeff, can I visit with you?”
“Sure, Dr. Bender come on in, or if you prefer we can go to your office?” he said.
He thought Jeff looked terrible.
Bender sat down, and smiled.
“How are you Jeff?”
He let out a long sigh, “I’ve been better, Leonard.”
He only called Dr. Bender by his first name when they were alone, at times like this.
“I imagine the meeting yesterday and the news from Dr. Frances was difficult to hear,” he said.
“Yes, yes it was,” he said, “My wife and I have been trying for a year. Each time it failed, we went through a mourning period. How will my wife react when she learns it was all for naught, and will likely never happen.”
Bender never looked away, and never flinched.
“I understand Jeff, I certainly do. But I must ask, how many wives will feel the same, do you think?”
Jeff looked up; he was uncertain how to answer.
Bender stood up with a stern expression, his voice rose.
”Your story will be the epitaph of our species if we don’t figure this out. Jeff, I need you here and now. Our research is needed here and now, if we are to survive. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Jeff was startled, but he understood the point his friend, and mentor was making.
> “Yes, I understand. You can count on me.”
Smiling again, and in a calm voice Bender said, “We will get through this together. Now tell me about the new people I asked for. Are they here yet?”
Jeff confirmed that they were and took Dr. Bender around to meet them. Bender then asked how it was going with the other lab director.
“Oh, you mean Samantha Niles. Yes well, I have enjoyed most of the people you have assigned to me. Perhaps there is a side to her which I will enjoy one day as well,” he said. Bender laughed out loud.
Loud enough to make a grad student jump, and drop his notebook.
That afternoon, Ryan sat at his desk looking at the personnel directory for the Sydney facility. Following his tip from Laura Stems in London, he looked for someone named, ‘Sarah Warren’. Mrs. Warren, it turned out was the Floor Master of one of the hospital treatment floors. He found her number, and made the call.
Another administrator answered the phone, and asked who he was, and with whom he wished to speak. He explained where he was calling from, and that he would very much like to speak with Mrs. Warren.
Moments later, a very friendly face appeared, talking up a storm, but there was no sound. Ryan began stabbing at the buttons on his televid. When she realized something was wrong she began pushing buttons on her end, too.
Quickly he wrote a note on a post-it, and held it to the camera.
It read, ‘I’ll call you on my personal phone, hold on.’
He pulled his phone out, dialed the number and said, “Hello” when she answered.
She said, “I do apologize, it seems we are having some sort of technical difficulties at the moment.”
“No problem, I can still see you on the televid, and hear you on my phone.”
“Wonderful, wonderful. Now Mr. Dane, why are we speaking?” she said.
Anticipating another success, Ryan had to slow himself down and start at the beginning again. He was still very sensitive to Mr. James’ concerns, and tried to remain as diplomatic as he could.
He explained that he had been hired to look at discrepancies in treatments prescribed and treatments received. He described the steps he’d taken, and the tests they had tried. Finally, he arrived at the point in the story where he had contacted Laura Stems in London, and that it was Laura who had suggested he contact her. Nodding occasionally, Sarah listened carefully; he could see her taking notes from time to time.
“Ryan, may I put you on hold for a moment please?”
The screen went black with the company logo floating in the middle.
Ryan feared that he’d told the whole story to the wrong person after all.
‘Damn,’ he thought while he waited, ‘this call wasn’t going as well as the London call, no sound and maybe the wrong person.’
Hearing voices on his phone, he turned up the volume, and realized he could still hear her on his phone, not well, but enough to know that Sarah was rapidly discussing his call, and asking what she should say.
When the screen came back on again, she was standing with a gentleman in a white lab coat. “Ryan, I have you on the speaker phone. This is Dr. Moore. He was with me when you called, and by coincidence we were talking about an example of this very problem; our worst case yet, and one which has only just occurred.”
Dr. Moore moved towards the camera and said, “Mr. Dane, am I to understand that there are two other facilities experiencing the same problem?”
Ryan leaned forward in his chair with heavy anticipation, “I believe the answer is ‘yes’, but before I go into any detail, could you please describe what you are experiencing there?”
“Yes, of course. We have a 1% mistreatment phenomenon for which we can find no solution. It seems that, at random times, our practical researchers will prescribe a treatment for a particular patient. However, the hospital services group receives a different treatment. We have had our first near-death incident because of this anomaly just last night.”
Obviously frustrated, Dr. Moore said, “Now it’s your turn Mr. Dane, please answer the question.”
“Of course, the answer is, ‘Yes’.”
That was all it took. The cat was out of the bag.
He explained that he was calling informally, and that he would need to take this information back to his supervisor before he could share any more data.
He thanked Dr. Moore and Mrs. Warren for their time, and said goodbye.
He then called Dorothy Allen’s assistant up in Patient Services.
“Cynthia, I would like to speak with Ms. Allen. Will she be available any time this afternoon?”
“Well, actually she’s free right now. Let me check.”
She put him on hold for a moment.
“Ryan, yes, please come up, Ms. Allen will see you now.”
When he arrived at her office, Dorothy was eating a salad of some sort.
“Please come in Ryan, and have a seat. You’ll have to excuse me; I didn’t get to eat lunch today.” He walked in and sat down.
“Yes, of course.”
“You look like you might have some news,” she said.
“Yes, indeed I do, and I have reached the point where it is appropriate for me to get new direction from both you and Ben.”
Ryan started at the beginning, describing the initial steps he had explored, including the tests he’d performed with Jim’s help. He went on to tell her the results of his visit in the labs, and in the hospital.
He paused and set his notes down, “Dorothy, after thorough exploration it is my opinion that the systems, on both the hospital and research sides, are secure. They cannot be broken through conventional, everyday activity.”
”I’m sorry Ryan, I don’t understand,” she said.
“I didn’t either; I needed more information,” he said, “and that’s when I approached Mr. James for permission to discuss the errors with another IntelliHealth Facility.”
“Ryan, why would you assume it was occurring elsewhere?” she asked.
“I learned from my support team in Information Services that each Facility has the identical software employed on the identical network set-up. It has been implemented that way for easy collaboration between scientists and hospitals across the whole IntelliHealth system.”
“So if it could happen here, it could happen there,” she said.
“Exactly, Ben requested that I start with London, and that’s where I learned we aren’t alone.”
Leaning forward, he said, “Dorothy, they were experiencing the exact same problem. And what’s more, they gave me a tip that it was happening in the Sydney Facility as well; a rumor I later confirmed.”
He paused for a second, and let it sink in.
“I can now say that there are three IntelliHealth Facilities experiencing the same odd treatment errors, and I feel it would be logical to believe there are more. The problem is not localized here, and is unconventional in nature.”
“Ryan, just to be perfectly clear, you personally spoke with representatives from the London and Sydney facilities, is that correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Okay, let me get on the phone with my counterparts at both facilities and begin a formal dialogue. I will contact both you and Ben very soon.”
Ryan stood to leave.
Dorothy stood up as well, “Good job Ryan. Well done.”
After telling this story so many times he was feeling a little fatigued.
He took his time going downstairs, and strolled back to his office.
It was getting late in the afternoon.
Ryan checked his mail and replied to a message from Jeff.
’Sorry Jeff, I’ve been tied up all day. How about that visit?’
Jeff must have been at his terminal right then, because he shot back a response in just a few seconds.
‘Sounds good, I’ll come to you. See you in a few minutes.’
Ryan thought that this called for a fresh coffee.
While he was waiting for J
eff, he got his coffee, wandered over to Jim’s place. Jim was hurling wadded up paper over the cubicle wall.
Trying not to laugh, he said, “Hey Jim, I don’t want to disturb you, I can see you’re deep into something very complex, but when you have a minute.”
Quickly throwing the last one over the top, Jim stood up and stretched.
“Sure, Ryan I’m at a good stopping place,” he said grinning, “what have you got, more data tests?”
“Nope, I’m about to visit with my new friend Jeff from the lab that I visited last week. I have much to tell about our project, and since you said you like a mystery, I thought you might enjoy it too.”
“Sure, I’m ready for a break, let’s go.”
Jeff finished an experiment using an applied method that one of his friends had written about. The idea was to test for qualities of fertile eggs, rather than focusing on the infertile eggs. It was a novel idea that turned the microscope around, so to speak.
Now he had to wait for the results.
He had received only one visit from the ‘dragon-lady’ across the hall today. Apparently, she wanted to know if his group needed any extra glassware. It seems that in her re-organizing of her side, they were getting rid of some lab furniture to make room for an additional bench. Now they had beakers and flasks without a home.