Sigma One

by Hutchison, William

  Slowly, but deliberately Anderson yanked his chair out from under the table as a show of defiance. Then he sat down, but not before curling his lip at Radcliff and then at the Soviets. He didn't like the idea they were there. It was wrong--flat wrong--in his eyes!

  All the others in the room had remained quiet during the verbal exchange between Anderson and Huxley, but it was obvious by the way each fidgeted, that the incident had made each a little uneasy.

  When Anderson finally settled down, Radcliff cleared his throat and began speaking again. His voice was still strained which only served to heighten the anxiety levels of those in the room. "Thank you all for giving up your weekend to attend this crucial meeting. What I have to tell you won't take long. I promise to be brief."

  He turned and pointed to the slides and began to speak. "The pictures you see before you are those of Dr. Andre Kamarov and Mr. Burt Grayson. These two individuals pose a considerable threat not only to the United States, but also to the Soviet Union."

  (The committee members knew Kamarov was threatening. They'd heard what he could do at the last meeting. But who was this Grayson?)

  Radcliff continued and provided the explanation.

  "As you committee members know, the NSF has been sponsoring experiments in thought programming for some time now and all your agencies have participated by providing needed financial support. At the last meeting we had a few short weeks ago we,----I mean, the NSF and Mr. Huxley here (he pointed to Pat) were given just ninety days to prove that a human could be taught to reprogram a computer using only the energy his mind could produce. That energy, when properly focused on the computer circuitry would alter the programs inside. We had intended to use this capability as the ultimate weapon against the Soviet Union."

  Anderson started to jump up again, but held himself back.

  "Well, ladies and gentlemen," Radcliff continued, "the man on the left, Mr. Burt Grayson, was recruited by the NSF, and as Pat will show you later, he has succeeded in demonstrating this capability--unequivocally demonstrating it, I might add."

  "The other man shown, as all of you know, is the Soviet equivalent of Grayson. He too, has the ability to thought program, and although his powers are limited to line of sight with the computers, he is equally capable of doing great harm to our countries; which is why we're here."

  Radcliff paused. The tension grew as everyone waited for his explanation of why they were so threatening.

  "The two men shown here, Grayson and Kamarov, have recently joined forces. They are together. They know of each other’s abilities, and they have threatened to use those abilities against the United States and the Soviet Union, unless we agree to end our pursuit of them."

  "What exactly they plan to do, we don't know. But because of what they know and what they can do with that knowledge, we must conclude they intend, and are quite capable of doing something drastic. I point this out because we have evidence that indicates these two individuals are not only powerful, but are equally unstable and unpredictable, this as a result of a chemical imbalance produced subsequent to linking with a computer!"

  Before anyone had a chance to ask any questions; questions such as what threats might have been made, by whom, and when, Radcliff flipped the foot switch and another slide replaced the first.

  The screen was now filled with two photos. The picture on the left showed a block diagram of the experiment Burt had performed at Radcliff's request. While the senator was providing a top level explanation of the physics behind the experiment, a video monitor came on and showed detailed screen dumps from the computers that had been in the lab while Burt was dynamically reprogramming the guidance computer. The video offered further visual evidence that, indeed, the principles of SIGMA ONE had been successfully demonstrated.

  Seeing the experiment he had planned and hearing the glowing words of praise spoken about him by Radcliff, Pat momentarily beamed with pride. Be had, after all, succeeded; and even though his success was short-lived, it still made him proud.

  The other side of the screen needed no explanation: everyone in the room, including the Soviets, had seen photographic evidence of Kamarov's experiments and each remembered the molten mass of plastic and parts which resulted in the aftermath of his successful linking. Even though there was no video tape of this, Radcliff's words were still compelling. It was obvious to everyone both nations had accomplished the heretofore unthinkable or unbelievable.

  As each person in the room tried to consider the disastrous consequences of such potentially lethal powers unfettered as a result of Kamarov's and Grayson's teaming, Anderson had other thoughts in mind.

  He jumped up again. This time he was shouting. "Damn you Huxley! You can't show these red bastards those pictures. Have you gone nuts? Oh, man, you're gonna go to jail!"

  Anderson made a move toward the podium. He was going to try to shut off the projection screen, but as he got just one step from his chair, Radcliff nodded his head at Walker. The agent instantly jumped in front of the charging would-be patriot, promptly intercepting him and, with his gun pointed squarely at Anderson's chest, forced him to stop.

  Anderson felt the cold steel of the muzzle against his sternum and threw up his hands. As a soldier, he knew you never pointed a weapon at anyone unless you intended to use it.

  Radcliff glared at him. "Under normal circumstances, Colonel Anderson, you'd be right and I would be breaching security by informing our Soviet guests here. But these aren't normal circumstances----not any longer. Additionally, I'm not showing or telling them anything they don't already know Anderson looked quizzically back.

  "For you see Colonel, it was the Soviets who furnished these pictures to us, and we've furnished them all the details of SIGMA ONE as well.

  "Likewise, I might add, discussions held yesterday between Moscow and Washington, or should I say, between the Premier and the President, have cleared the way for us to get down to work without worrying security matters. You see, we no longer have any secrets concerning our individual thought programming experiments and we know all about their work as well. We only have a job to do--and that job is to decide how to best proceed to defuse this situation such that we can proceed from here to neutralize the threat to both our countries."

  "I'm sorry I couldn't divulge these facts to you earlier. Now please, Colonel Anderson, let's have no more outbursts or Walker will have to escort you from the room!"

  Anderson raised his hand timidly, like an embarrassed schoolchild wanting to go to the restroom but not wanting to make a fuss about it. He didn't want Walker to misinterpret his move and get trigger happy."One question, Senator?" He asked.

  "Go ahead," Radcliff responded.

  "You said discussions are going on now between Moscow and Washington and we no longer have any secrets?"

  "That's right."

  "Then why are we here? I mean, why are all the committee members here?"

  "Radcliff indulged him. "I'm glad you asked colonel. You all are here because you each, or should I say, each of your respective organizations has invested heavily in SIGMA ONE and each of you may or may not have reasons for wanting to see this thing through to the end because of that investment. Let's just say the President and I discussed this and thought it best you be informed of what our plans are. After all, when we're done here today and after we've eliminated Grayson and Kamarov, you'll be forced to implement those plans."

  Pat, who had remained silent throughout, shuddered after hearing what Radcliff had just said. He had said nothing earlier about eliminating the two men when he informed him of his plans to involve the Soviets in their pursuit. He had, in fact, alluded to the possibility of taking them alive and isolating them in an electromagnetically impenetrable enclosure which Pat had thought he had convinced him he could build. The enclosure would be one way of keeping the two men alive for further study. He had wanted to believe the senator then, but now, Radcliff was finally showing his true colors, and although Pat knew there was probably no alternative b
ut to eliminate the men, he still didn't like the fact he'd been lied to.

  Anderson was still unsure why he was called to attend and asked for more detail. "Then we're here only to listen right?"

  While Pat leered at him for the lie he had told earlier, Radcliff answered the colonel's question.

  "Correct, Colonel. You're all here to listen. After I've given the briefing, each of you will have ten days to gather any and all information you have back at your agencies regarding SIGMA ONE---that includes anything: memo's, briefing material, files, budgets, etcetera."

  "So what are we going to do with them?" he asked angrily.

  "You're going to ship them here, back to the NSF."

  "Why?"

  "So they can be destroyed under U.S and Soviet scrutiny. That's why! I might also add that for the next seven years, as a minimum, each of your agencies and organizations will be required to have a resident Soviet observer stationed at them. We will do the same at the Soviet equivalent of the NSF in Moscow. Because of this Pandora's box we've opened, both countries have agreed to discontinue all research in thought programming and to guarantee it, we're jointly taking the steps I've outlined."

  Pat's stomach turned inside out and he became nauseous with Radcliff's proclamation. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. All he had worked for so many years was finished. Done! Through! He couldn't stand to hear any more and gat up and started toward the door.

  Radcliff noticed him leaving in spite of the darkened room. "Pat," he asked, "where do you think you're going? You still have a briefing to give."

  Pat didn't answer. "You give the briefing, you bastard," he thought and then exited without saying a word.

  He was numb and on the same dark spiral he had been on the day after the first committee meeting when he was told of the ninety day ultimatum. Only this time there wasn't any escaping it: SIGMA ONE was dead. This time there wasn't any Amanda to go and get Burt and rescue the project. This time there wasn't any chance at all. This time Radcliff had pulled the plug and he and all he had dreamed and hoped for was sliding down the drain and there wasn't a thing he could do to stop it. He felt hopeless.

  He punched the cypher code with hands that felt like clay and left. The door clanked shut behind him silencing Radcliff's continued protests. As he walked slowly down the hall to his office, nausea overtook him. Hurriedly, he quickened his pace and found a wastebasket. He wretched, and afterward, felt utterly weak and had to stop.

  As he paused in the hall to regain his strength, he scanned each vault door and imagined each being emptied of its contents. It would surely happen. Soon the NSF would become a warehouse--vacant. Lives would be shattered; hopes ruined. The building and all its contents would then be discarded, like a robin's egg after the hatchling has cracked it and crawled out of the shell. Only the building wouldn't have brought a new life into the world and be remembered with fondness like the egg one sees discarded on the lawn in spring. Instead, the building would become a burial ground for an idea that perhaps could have changed the world.

  CHAPTER 7

  Burt lay in the back of the rented Dodge Arrowstar and slept while Debbie drove. He was still groggy from the effects of the drug given him by Kamarov, but other than a splitting headache, he was normal. Kamarov was seated next to her and was going over the diagrams showing the missile guidance computer Burt had scrawled from memory earlier. Kamarov had seen them all before back at the institute in Moscow and this re-familiarization was more to pass the time than anything else while they sped toward Morrow Bay and away from Sacramento where they spent six hours with Daniel.

  Kamarov put the diagrams down and looked up at Debbie who was staring straight ahead watching the road. He studied her face. She was beautiful, but she was also very tired. The last two days had taken their toll. Her eyes were bloodshot and surrounded by deep circles which showed through in spite of her makeup. Still, he thought, she is beautiful. In Moscow there weren't many blondes, and the ones he did know weren't nearly as fair. Their skin was ruddier and they had more wrinkles from the cold winters. No, Ms. Andrews was far too pretty to be a Moscovite.

  Debbie felt his stare and turned toward him and spoke. "It was nice of you to share your medicine with Burt back in the motel, Andre. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't." Her voice was tender, but not inviting.

  "You needn't thank me, Ms. Andrews," Kamarov said politely. "I owe you both my life. Had it not been for you, I probably would have been captured by now. Besides, it was because Burt linked that he became crazy. And because he linked we escaped."

  "But you didn't need to give him the last of the medicine. Now neither of you has any more," Debbie responded.

  "I know. And although we will need it soon, I had no other choice back then. If I had not given it to him, he might have hurt himself." He paused and then added, "or you."

  Andre reached over and took her hand from the wheel. She pulled it away, but he held on. Some of the tiredness in her eyes melted away and was replaced with angry fire at his touch.

  "I know you don't agree with what we have to do." Andre said. "But it is the only way, Debbie. Burt may have been acting crazy the other night when he suggested it, but I have given what he said much thought and I agree with him. Only by showing both our governments that we have control over them and not the other way around can we ever expect to be free."

  "But Andre, it's too dangerous," Debbie protested. "If either of you links again, Burt especially, without the medicine, I mean. You're risking your lives and you'll...."

  She didn't get time to finish. Andre interrupted. His voice was cold and harsh. "And what kind of lives do you think we can lead now? Tell me that. Both governments will come for us. You remember what happened back in the casino. You remember the agent with Huxley. " He then grabbed her wrist and turned it for her to see. "You remember the way they handcuffed you....the way the metal gouged your flesh!"

  She looked down at the bruises and the swollen cuts on her wrist. It still ached, and the pain made her know he was right. The U.S. government would stop at nothing to get Burt.

  Andre spoke again. Some of the earlier harshness remained, but mostly his voice was filled with resignation and acceptance that the risks they would be taking by launching a test missile at Washington and one at Moscow to prove their determination, would be worth the gain. He squeezed her hand gently. "It's the only way, Debbie. The only way!"

  Tears filled her eyes and she pulled her hand away. She knew the Soviet had spoken the truth. It was the only way.

  But that didn't make it easier to accept, or any less dangerous.

  CHAPTER 8

  As the winter sun dipped into the Pacific and the warm California sky was changing from blood red to a deep violet, in Washington, night had already fallen and a chilly winter wind howled outside the Huxley residence. Flecks of damp snow, like spittle, peppered the windows and every so often, the ice-laden branches of a nearby tree scraped the roof.

  Patrick Huxley was home alone seated in his living room staring hollow-eyed straight ahead. He didn't notice the wind or the sound the branches made. He was too busy trying to focus on the Escher which hung on the wall opposite him. It was difficult to do so. It was dark and the shadows which fell on the painting made it nearly impossible for him to see the detail he loved so much, but he preferred to keep the lights off. It matched his somber mood. Besides, he had studied the picture enough over the years that in his mind he could lose himself in the surrealistic reflection of the room wrapped on itself in the globe held in Escher's hand without them. Pat knew the picture's every line, and just as Escher must have examined his life at least once while he painted the image of himself which stared back at him, Pat examined his own life now.

  He didn't like what he saw.

  For nearly twelve years, he had dedicated every waking moment to the ideal of building a nuclear-weapon-free society by perfecting SIGMA ONE. He had given everything to that dream including neglecting his wife and daug
hter. He had even had been brought to the brink of an illicit affair as a result of spending so much time away from home and absorbing himself with work instead of concentrating on the things that really mattered: his family. He did this all in the name of the greater good. But while he was protecting the world for future generations, his family was slipping farther and farther away, like a leaf caught in a slow moving stream.

  Each moment he had invested in SIGMA ONE had been one he had robbed from those who loved him. Yet he stole without conscience or remorse.

  He could never get those moments back.They were gone forever.

  And for what?

  Now his dream was gone as well. The committer and Radcliff had seen to that. Their shortsighted paranoia had caused them to yank it from his hands. Now Pat was just as miserable and empty-handed as the compulsive gambler who threw one too many craps and lost it all. And just like the gambler, who searches frantically in his pocket for one more buck--the buck that will turn things around when the dice finally hit, Pat was searching his mind for alternatives; searching for some way to make it all right. But he had run the account dry. He had nothing else to bet. He was emotionally bankrupt and soon enough, monetary bankruptcy would follow as the NSF was dismantled and he was removed from his post of leadership. Soon he would be worth more to his family dead than alive!