by John Akers
“Great. How does 7 a.m. sound?”
“I think that will work. I’ll let you know by five o’clock this afternoon if any issues come up. Remember not to eat or drink anything after midnight tonight, and I’ll send you the list of possible complications resulting from the surgery as well. Make sure you read it and really take time to think about what you’re doing. I feel like you’re approaching this like a drunken sailor who decides to get a tattoo at three o’clock in the morning.”
“I’m in complete possession of my faculties, I assure you,” said Pax.
Jean nodded. “So be it. I’ll be in touch.”
Chapter 9
Thursday, 11:45 AM PT
When Pax awoke, his head and sinuses ached painfully. He tried to raise a hand to his head but found he couldn’t move his arm. He tried to move his legs, then his head. No good. He was completely immobilized.
He began to writhe around, trying to free himself, then he remembered what Jean had told him just before the AutoDoc had anesthetized him. “You’ll wake up in an upright position and under restraints,” he’d said. “You’ll have to stay in that position to make sure the mesh settles properly and the corticospinal fluid flushes out.” Pax relaxed and opened his eyes.
He was facing a large mirror that showed he was sitting in what resembled an oversized recliner. It was upholstered with dark taupe leather that felt like suede. Underneath was memory foam so soft he had sunk several inches deep into it. He saw there were thick leather straps holding his torso, arms, and head firmly in place. His head was additionally secured by two rectangular blocks of much firmer foam that were jammed up tightly against both sides of his face to keep him from turning his head.
Pax tried to speak, but no noise came out. He licked his lips and tried again. “Junn?” he croaked. A few seconds later Jean’s voice came from hidden speakers somewhere in the room. “Hi, Oreste. I’ll be right in.”
Using the mirror to look as far to his left as he could, Pax saw Gabe on top of a delicate-looking nightstand next to the bed. He rolled his eyes around to see as much of the room as he could. It looked more like an expensive hotel room than a surgical recovery room. It had dark wood floors, cream-colored walls with a fleur-de-lis pattern, and a window to the right with blackout curtains that were drawn tight. The temperature was pleasantly warm, and there was soft, diffused lighting. A mild citrus fragrance filled the air.
The door opened, and Jean entered. “How’s our number one patient feeling?” he asked. His alabaster white Univiz looked fluorescent in the darkened room.
“My head feels like a water balloon,” Pax rasped.
“That’s normal. The gel injection causes a temporary increase in the hydrostatic pressure inside your skull. I know it’s unpleasant, but in a couple of hours it will start to feel better, and by tomorrow morning, it will be back to normal.”
“Not good enough,” Pax croaked. “We have to do better. Maybe reduce the amount of CSF in advance, so the gel has more room…” Pax said.
“This is major surgery, Oreste! It’s not supposed to feel pleasant.”
“It’s elective surgery, Jean,” Pax said. “People can’t wake up feeling the way I do right now, or no one will do this. We have to disrupt the entire surgical experience as well for this to work. We have to make it pleasant, fun even. Not something to be avoided. Maybe we could keep them sedated a bit longer, so the pressure has a chance to reduce some more?”
“Keeping people under anesthesia any longer than absolutely necessary is, quite frankly, a terrible idea.”
Ignoring him, Pax said. “Remember how they found a way to make giving people shots painless and error-free with ultrasound automated injectors? We need to do something like that here.”
“I’m a doctor, Oreste. Ever hear of the Hippocratic oath? Our motto is, ‘Do no harm.’”
“I’m a technologist, Jean. Our motto is ‘Launch and learn.’”
Jean shook his head. “The mesh isn’t even settled yet and I’m already starting to regret this.”
Pax wriggled under the straps. “I mean, what’s with these straps for Christ’s sake? Do you want people to wake up thinking you threw in shock treatment as an extra bonus?”
“No, but I’m beginning to think that in your case I should have. It’s absolutely essential that you remain upright and motionless for several more hours. I know it will be uncomfortable, but just hang in there.”
“Look at me! I look like I’m being swallowed by a giant chocolate marshmallow!”
“The other participants found it very comfortable.”
“What if I get an itch?”
“Just call me,” said Jean.
“I was hoping you’d send in a cute nurse to take care of it.”
“That might have been an option if you hadn’t insisted on doing all of this in secret.”
“There are services that handle this sort of thing very discretely,” said Pax with a wink.
Jean pretended to write on an invisible notepad while muttering, “Hire escorts to assist patients with post-op recovery. Got it.”
Pax grinned. “At least until we address this hydrogelatic—whatever-you-said—pressure thing.”
“Oreste, soon you’re going to begin controlling your Univiz with just your eyes and your mind. I think you should be more appreciative of the miracle of modern medicine instead of pissing and moaning about having a mild headache for a few hours.”
“Speaking of that, isn’t there something you can do about it?” groused Pax.
“Sure, I can throw open the curtains and make it a hell of a lot worse.”
Pax grimaced at the thought. “Please don’t. I think I’d explode like a vampire.”
Jean sighed, then made some gestures in his Univiz. “I’ve added 0.25 ccs of Escapaine to your IV, but that’s all you get.”
“Thanks. And speaking of controlling my Univiz with my mind, when can I try out the BCI?”
“We waited two weeks before starting testing with the other participants, but I assume that’ll be too long for you to wait?”
“Yeah, I was hoping for something more along the lines of ‘tonight.’”
“I figured I’d be lucky to hold you off for more than a couple of days. Well, I’ve already attached the sensors and updated your UV’s firmware with the BCI code, so it’s ready to go. But I insist you wait a minimum of 24 hours, so the gel has a chance to flush from your system. Gabe is going to send me a feed of your biostats, and he will alert me if you try to do anything before then.”
“Fine, fine,” said Pax. I’ll wait until tomorrow.”
“You’d better. If Gabe tells me you try to start any sooner, I’ll send a electric surge to the amplifier mesh that’ll knock you out.”
Pax’s eyes widened for just a moment before one corner of his mouth crinkled up. “You’re getting rather good at pulling my leg.”
Jean smiled. “What’s life without a sense of humor?”
Pax frowned. “Could that happen? Could it become electrified from a nearby power source?”
Jean looked at the ceiling. “That’s an interesting question. You probably should have asked that before you let me Saran Wrap one of them around your noodle.”
When Pax didn’t reply but just stared at him, Jean laughed. “Oh, don’t worry. The mesh only amplifies electricity generated by the brain itself. It has a built-in breaker, so if it detects more than 90 percent of the maximum safe electrical current, it’ll turn off instantly. Feel better now?”
Pax grunted. As he did, he noticed the pain in his head had already lessened considerably. “Thanks for the Escapaine, it’s doing the trick.”
“You’re welcome,” said Jean.
“So what am I supposed to do all day? Sit here and stare at myself in the mirror?”
“I was hoping you could tell me a story,” said Jean.
Pax unsuccessfully tried to turn his head toward Jean, then gave up and said, “Me, tell you a story? I thought the nurse was
supposed to entertain the patient, not the other way around.”
Jean chuckled and walked over to the left. In the mirror, Pax saw him grab a chair and carry it over toward the foot of the bed, where Pax could see him.
“Normally, yes,” said Jean, “but not in this particular case.”
“Why’s that?”
“The main reason is that talking, literally the motion of opening and closing your jaws, will help the gel drain faster.” He stopped the chair and sat down where Pax could see him. “The other reason is that I think I deserve a little quid pro quo for agreeing to do this, against my better judgment.”
Pax arched his eyebrows at Jean. “Oh, you do, do you? Well, what story would you like me to tell you, hmm? Hansel and Gretel? Little Red Riding Hood?”
“I want you to tell me the story of how Oreste Pax created the Univiz.”
Pax rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on Jean. I’ve given tons of interviews about that over the years. Surely you must have read some of them by now.”
“I’ve read about how you had a burst of inspired genius and locked yourself in your apartment for three days, hardly eating or drinking until you emerged with scores of sketches and workflows that served as a blueprint for the original Univiz. But that’s not the story I want to hear.”
“Oh?” said Pax.
“No. I want to hear the backstory, the color commentary. All the inside stuff that’s not fit to print.”
“What makes you think there is such a backstory?”
“Just a hunch. You got me thinking about it yesterday when you mentioned all the work you personally put into the Univiz before you shared it with beta testers. I haven’t seen that in any of the articles I’ve read about you. It got me wondering what other behind-the-scenes tidbits there might be.”
Pax smiled and said, “Sorry to disappoint you, but there’s no backstory. What you’ve read is all there is.”
Jean gave Pax a sidelong glance. Then he smiled as if something had occurred to him. “Robbie, please put yourself in full privacy mode.” A moment later he took his UV off and put it on the nightstand next to Pax’s.
Pax looked at Jean with a serious expression and said, “Give me your word that none of this leaves this room.”
“I promise I will not breathe a word of this to anyone, ever.”
Pax nodded. “Okay. Gabe, put yourself and the room into full privacy mode.”
Gabe replied, "Full privacy mode for myself and the room confirmed."
Pax cleared his throat. “So your guess is correct. There are some things almost no one else knows about the creation of the Univiz.
“I knew it!”
“And it’s even juicer than you think.”
“Really?” Jean asked. He leaned forward like a little kid on the edge of his seat.
“Really.”
“How so?”
“Because it involves two men who don’t exist.”
Chapter 10
Thursday, March 15, 12:15 PM PT
Los Altos Police Department Incident Report
Case No.: 2035-02716237
Location: STANFORD HOSPITAL, 300 PASTEUR DR, STANFORD, CA 94305
Incident Type: HOUSEHOLD ACCIDENT
Date and Time Reported: 3/15/20xx 7:09 AM
Dispatch Date and Time: 3/15/20xx 7:18 AM
Bias/Motivation: NONE
Victim/Missing 01 (V01) Name: (Last, First): CUNNINGHAM, JEREMY R.
Last Known Address: 2359 CUESTA ABAJO CT, LOS ALTOS, CA 94024
D.O.B.: 08/20/19xx
Age: 54
Race: CAUCASIAN
Sex: MALE
Eyes: BROWN
Hair: BROWN
Height: 5’ 11”
Weight: 210 LBS.
Univiz ID: 1875031692
Suspect 1 (S01) (Last, First): N/A OR UNKNOWN
Suspect Status: N/A OR UNKNOWN
Related Report(s): 2035-02716229, 2035-02716217
Incident Description:
REPORTING OFFICER INTERVIEWED MR. JERRY CUNNINGHAM (V01) FROM HIS HOSPITAL BED AT STANFORD HOSPITAL. INCIDENT OCCURRED AT MR. CUNNINGHAM’S RESIDENCE. AT APPROXIMATELY 7:00 AM, HE GOT INTO THE SHOWER IN THE MASTER BATHROOM. SHOWER IS A 4-FOOT SQUARE SPACE WITH A SINGLE HINGED PLEXIGLASS DOOR. HE REPORTED THAT ALMOST IMMEDIATELY AFTER ENTERING THE SHOWER, THE WATER SPONTANEOUSLY TURNED ON FULL VOLUME AND BECAME SCALDING HOT.
MR. CUNNINGHAM ISSUED A VERBAL COMMAND FOR THE SHOWER TO TURN OFF, BUT SHOWER DID NOT RESPOND. HE SCREAMED FOR HELP, BEFORE FINDING THE DOOR HANDLE, THROWING THE DOOR OPEN, AND FALLING OUT OF THE SHOWER ONTO THE FLOOR. IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARD MR. CUNNINGHAM REPORTED THE SHOWER SPONTANEOUSLY TURNED OFF. MRS. CUNNINGHAM CONFIRMED THE SHOWER WAS OFF BY THE TIME SHE ENTERED THE BATHROOM.
MRS. CUNNINGHAM CALLED 911, AND AN AMBULANCE TOOK MR. CUNNINGHAM TO STANFORD HOSPITAL WHERE HE WAS TREATED FOR MULTIPLE 1ST AND 2ND DEGREE BURNS ON HIS FACE, ARMS, AND TORSO. DURING THE INTERVIEW, HE BEGAN CRYING AND SAID, “PLEASE, HELP ME. SOMEONE IS TRYING TO KILL ME. PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP ME. DON’T LET THEM KILL ME.”
OFFICER RETURNED TO MR. CUNNINGHAM’S RESIDENCE WITH MRS. CUNNINGHAM AND TESTED ALL INTERNET CONNECTED APPLIANCES IN THE HOME. ALL OPERATED NORMALLY.
DUE TO PRIOR HISTORY AND THE SEVERITY OF THE CURRENT INCIDENT, REPORTING OFFICER REQUESTS ASSISTANCE FROM COUNTY CRIMINAL INVESTIGATIONS FOR A COMPUTER FORENSICS ANALYST TO INVESTIGATE THE POSSIBILITY OF REMOTE ASSAULT AND BATTERY.
Reporting Officer Name (Last, First): MARTINEZ, RICARDO
Reporting Officer Badge No: 1889
Date Assigned: 3/15/20xx
Reviewing Supervisor Name (Last, First): FITZGERALD, MARY
Case Status: OPEN
Chapter 11
“Two men who don’t exist?” exclaimed Jean. “This promises to be even better than I’d hoped!”
“Well, one of them is somewhat more figurative than literal.”
“Ah, how so?”
“He’s real, but hardly anyone knows about him. And no one except me knows all the things he’s done.”
“How interesting,” said Jean.
Pax looked uncertain for a moment. “You promise? Not a word of this to anyone?”
Jean looked surprised. “Oreste, I’ve already promised! But yes, I promise I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Scout’s honor. It’s just for me.”
“Okay. It’s just that if the guy I’m about to tell you about ever found out about this conversation, well, he’d never speak to me again, that’s for sure.”
Jean looked incredulous. “Who in the world could have you so concerned? You’re the head of Omnitech, for crying out loud. You’re one of the most famous inventors in history!”
Pax nodded. “Yes, but, this guy is—something special.”
Jean arched his eyebrows but didn’t reply.
“His name is Cevis. Cevis Pierson. He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. By a long shot. Smarter than you, me, and the rest of the people on Project Simon put together.”
“Incredible! How is it I’ve never heard of this person?”
“Because that’s the way he wants it. You can search for him on the internet all you want, but you won’t find a wisp about him.”
“Come on, Oreste. Surely you don’t expect me to believe…”
“Trust me, Jean,” Pax interrupted. “Just trust me on this for now, all right? Otherwise, I’ll never get through this story.”
Jean shrugged. “All right.”
“Cevis was the person most responsible, albeit indirectly, for the creation of the Univiz, for two reasons. The first is he filled me with a desire to be like him, to be as smart as he is. When you hear him talk, he makes the most complicated things in the world seem simple, makes you feel like you can solve just about any problem.”
“What does he do, if you don’t mind my asking?” said Jean.
“He’s a geneticist and biotechnologist. I can’t tell you specifics, but let’s just say that he’s helped invent cures for several diseases over t
he past 20 years. A surprising number of them, in fact.”
“But that’s a completely different field from yours!”
“I’m telling you, Jean, this guy is smart. Crazy smart. If you had a 15-minute conversation with him about BCIs, by the end of it he’d have you feeling like he knew more about it than you did.”
“Oh, come on now,” Jean chided, “how could that be possible?”
“Look, at least for the purposes of this story, just assume that it is. Because even if you don’t believe what I’m saying, the fact is my desire to be like him is what’s driven me all these years. To do something great, like him.”
“I see,” said Jean.
“The other thing is, he taught me how to be smart.”
“Oh? How so?”
“Over the years, more so during college than afterward, he shared the mechanics of how he thinks with me. You see, it’s not just raw brain power that sets him apart, although he’s got that in spades. It’s the way he processes information. The foundation is an array of mnemonic devices that let him instantly convert any information into a form that’s much easier to retain and access later. You may have heard of or even used some of these techniques yourself. Such as converting numbers into letter sounds to form words out of them, then attaching images of what he needs to remember to familiar locations, so that he can walk back through them in his mind.”
“I have used some of those. Mostly back in med school when there was so much raw memorization to do.”
“Right. Well, Cevis’ has done it for so long it’s like breathing to him. He does low-level conversions and processing automatically, doesn’t even need to think about it. Then he combines this with other well-known mnemonic devices, like visually attaching things to familiar places he knows to remember them in a certain order.”
“Right,” said Jean. “You mentally take a walk through your house, or your village, or some other place you know well, and connect the things you’re trying to remember to it, using absurdist imagery to make it stick in your memory better.” He looked at Pax skeptically. “But those tricks have been around forever. They’re how people in ancient times passed stories from one generation to another, before writing existed. Surely that’s not why you think so highly of him.”