Hacking Einsteiner (Einsteiner, Book 2)

by VK Fourstone

  It was good they had Link. He immediately said that in any contingency, his house in Sardinia was at their disposal. Could they hold out there for long? Link had for seven years.

  Isaac was very focused and Bikie was as carefree as ever. The conversation was circling around risks they were taking and their possible consequences. Bikie told Isaac about Gregory Roberts, who escaped from an Australian prison and lived in India for ten years. Roberts managed to hide from Interpol for all that time, until he finally got caught in Europe and he had a Harley, too. After he got caught and imprisoned, he wrote his autobiography entitled Shantaram, which became an international bestseller, and he turned into a living legend.

  “My God, haven’t you read Shantaram?”

  “No, I’ve never even heard of the book.”

  “You’re just an oaf who understands nothing about life. If you haven’t read it, you live blindfolded. You don’t know how to spend your life.”

  “I’ll read it. I hope I won’t read it in the same place where he wrote it.”

  “Don’t shit yourself, Isaac. If anything, we’ll slip off to Link’s place and sort things out there. This is what brains and unexpended creativity are for.”

  “What about Pascal?”

  “What about him? He’s already a Veggie, just might become a little bit more stupid. He won’t even notice.”

  The prospect of Pascal losing his mind really frightened Isaac. Uneasily, he had to admit that ending up in prison frightened him even more, though.

  “By the way, Isaac, I don't know what the law says about what we’re doing, it probably doesn’t specifically mention artificially induced insanity. They’ll probably just download us. But be sure, everything will go fine.”

  “I wish I had your confidence.”

  “We’ll live long, long lives as normal people, on the run, we’ll buy Harleys and we’ll rob banks.”

  “Don’t talk garbage. It isn’t funny.”

  “Just please relax. Everything will work out fine. Don’t get scared, we’re almost there.”

  The plan was this: the journey to Paris would take ten hours there and ten hours back. Isaac would drive as far as Lyon while Bikie slept, then they would swap. When they got there, they would tie Pascal to the seat, put the helmet on him and hook up to the professor’s equipment. Then they would wake him so that his magnetic field would be at maximum strength. They would pump in the creativity quickly and give Pascal another injection to make him sleep for a couple of hours. Bikie would then drive them back. Isaac had to be there beside Pascal at the moment when he finally woke up, just in case. They had a first aid kit ready in the van, and a defibrillator, in case Pascal’s heart stopped. No one knew how the body would react to the return of OE, so they’d decided to take everything for an emergency.

  The van drove up to the house and Isaac got out. He decided to go in alone in order not to rouse any suspicion and not drag everyone into jail with him if things went wrong.

  In one hand he had a syringe with a strong sedative. The dose was calculated for eight hours, precisely for the fast drive to Paris. In his pocket, he had a note for the administrator, which he had written in Pascal’s name: “I’ll be back late. I’m going to play soccer and watch a film”. Isaac pushed the front door gently. It wasn’t locked and opened almost soundlessly.

  Walking through quietly into the sitting room, he saw Pascal, who was sitting on the sofa, watching TV. The program was about the successful testing of the new generation of hydrogen-powered engines. Pascal was watching with interest.

  Creeping up from behind, Isaac grabbed Pascal’s head, swung his hand precisely and sank the syringe into his neck.

  After the injection, Pascal broke free, turned round and stared at Isaac. He even had time to smile, not realizing what had happened, but he immediately grimaced in pain and grabbed hold of his neck. The next moment his face relaxed, his eyes closed and his body went limp. A few seconds later he was soundly asleep.

  Isaac whistled to Bikie and they carried Pascal to the van. They sped off to the spot where Link and Red Beard were waiting. The professor leapt into the passenger seat beside Isaac and the assistant got into the back beside Pascal, who was sleeping sweetly.

  “How did it go?” Link asked.

  “Smoothly,” Isaac replied. “Let’s go.” The van set off.

  Link’s eyes were glittering insanely in anticipation of the experiment that he had dreamed of for so long. That kind of insanity probably comes over all scientists on the threshold of important discoveries.

  They drove fast but without exceeding the speed limit. Bikie wasn’t able to get to sleep – the van swayed on the bends. Pascal’s sleeping body swung about in the back so Red Beard had to hold him with both arms.

  “Isaac, you actually aren’t such a soft touch as you seem,” said Bikie, looking at unconscious Pascal. “Good thing I’m not your old friend.”

  “I thought you were for it?”

  “I still am. Your obsessive persistence and your toughness on the verge of cruelty both scare and fascinate me. When it is needed, you are like that. Well, I guess all leaders are.”

  Isaac didn’t like those words at all. It was easy just to speculate when someone else was there to make tough decisions.

  “Everything is fine, Isaac, bro. Cheer up! I would do the same. It’s just that you have more balls. And this is a compliment indeed, don’t you think so?”

  Isaac actually was feeling quite uneasy. He didn’t show it, but the doubts were there. He didn’t know if it was the right thing to risk Pascal like this, or destroy it all. He didn’t have a clue what those people wanted: freedom in poverty or well-doing dumbness? Yet, to show lack of confidence was a risk of ruining the team that motivated to stay together by a single clear goal. Then Isaac sank back into thoughts about Pascal and what he wanted from him. On the one hand, it was clear - to see the old friend he loved. On the other, - to tell him about everything. Of his resentment. Of course, Pascal had been locked in a brain jail. But Vicky! How could he be so unconcerned about her life?

  Another question was what he would be like after all this. What if he didn’t give a damn about their idea? Or he might say: “What have you done, you dorks, I was so happy! What have you dragged me into without even asking?”

  And what if he died as a result of the experiment? Or became a total idiot, not even a Happy? Isaac tried to drive these thoughts away. God was on their side, as they say. There was no reason things should go wrong.

  Somehow he did not believe that Pascal would tell them to go to hell. He downloaded his creativity for the sake of his girlfriend and now he lost her. Surely that was a reason to hate the Agency.

  Isaac had started to hate Pascal, and maybe Pascal had already changed a long time ago. What made Isaac think his friend would be the same great guy as before? What would he say when he discovered that they had risked his life for the sake of an idea? The video that Isaac shot in the times when he was a Veggie should help.

  The doubts and questions tormented Isaac so badly that he was even afraid to share them with Bikie. He would only twist everything again.

  “Bikie, have you ever had any real friends?” Isaac asked, coming at things indirectly.

  “I had one. Even two.”

  “And where are they now?”

  “One went away to California. His parents moved there. We were teenagers back then. We stayed friends until twenty-one. We used to race our mopeds like crazy.”

  “And the other one?”

  “The other one turned out to be a scumbag.”

  “How come?”

  “I thought he was my friend. But apparently he was not. David Suleiman. I trusted him, and he used my trust to rob me. Turned out to be a bastard. When I was restoring my Harley, he offered to buy some spare parts for me. Said it was interesting to see how to make a super-stylish bike out of an old frame and a heap of metal. And then I found out he had been ripping me off big-time on the parts. Bastard. Some friend.
Like they say, with friends like that, who needs enemies? I would have smashed his head in, but he didn’t cross my path for a long time, and I cooled off. Screw him, I reckon it’s bad for your karma to touch filthy scum.”

  “I see. I’ve only had Pascal. And to be honest, it’s really bothering me right now. We’re putting his life on the line. It’s not like a friendly thing to do.”

  Isaac started telling Bikie again about their friendship, how they had fun and fought shoulder to shoulder. He got so carried away that Bikie started getting angry.

  “How come you guys didn’t get married, if you loved each other so much?”

  “Drop it, Bikie,” said Isaac, catching the note of jealousy. “He was a great guy and you would like him.”

  “I doubt it, you make him sound so perfect, and it’s sickening.”

  “Not perfect, just my best friend. He was,” Isaac added, after a moment’s thought. “Until he became a Veggie.”

  “I don’t give a shit. Right now we need him for business.”

  “Bikie, I’ll tell you honestly, I don’t know what he’ll be like after being a Veggie. He might even go running to the police. He’s so straight and proper now. We can’t imagine what changes have taken place in his brain these last few years.”

  “Then I’ll definitely smash his head in.”

  Isaac stopped talking and didn’t bring the subject up again: Bikie was too crabby. But the thoughts about Pascal didn’t go away. Bikie was clearly also musing on the possible consequences, but neither he nor Isaac wanted to discuss them.

  He couldn’t afford to show his uncertainty though, this way he would risk destroying the team, which was supported by the only one thing: distinct goal.

  The highway to Marseille ran along the shoreline, then turned uphill in the direction of Lyon. The sunset was bright orange again, like on the first day at Wolanski’s villa. Isaac saw this as a hopeful sign. It looked like orange energy spilled out across the entire vault of the sky! Beautiful! But the conspirators couldn’t really afford to admire the sunset. Driving past Avignon, Isaac couldn’t help recalling the words of a simple prayer, and he whispered them soundlessly, barely moving his lips. There was a papal residence here once.

  They drove in silence, and Isaac fell asleep. A few miles later Bikie shook him and asked to switch. Isaac got behind the wheel after drinking some coffee from a thermos.

  “Isaac, you couldn't,” said Bikie.

  “Couldn't what?”

  “Couldn't go and download your creativity for the sake of Vicky. Then it would have fallen apart. You're now more valuable than thousands of Pascals because it is not in this one man, but in all men. I understand that this is a difficult choice, but it is the only true one.”

  "I know," quietly replied Isaac.

  Pascal did not get out of his head, forcing him to be tormented and feel aches of conscience. He was able to go back and download the creativity, to pay the bill from the hospital without risking his ex-friend. But it would mean the end of resistance. It was important to hear this not just from his own internal voice, but also somebody else, and Isaac felt much better after Bikie's words. Now he will prove his usefulness to society.

  “What kind of world do you want to live in?”

  “You keep going on about the world, the world. Take it easy, don't make your life too difficult. Why don’t you think about chicks instead? Or about how to sell your invention for more dough? If you have money for drinking and eating, you can live in a world of dreams if you like, or in Hollywood, or set up Hollywood at your villa, like Wolanski. You and I don’t have any money, we have different concerns, but we can live in a world full of struggle and adventures. For a good job, for a girl, for our own thoughts and ideas. Or you can become an ordinary nine-to-five guy, living on a schedule like a robot. But then what’s the point?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Richard Bach has this book called Running from Safety. At fifty-nine, Bach mystically meets himself, at the age of nine, and they spend time together. The boy takes him to task very strictly for the life he’s lived: What have you achieved, have you stuck to your principles, what wishes have you realized and, most importantly, what dreams ‘of mine/of ours’ have you made real? The grown-up Bach can’t really answer, just makes excuses. Almost across the board he got caught up in work and the problems of the day and he didn’t achieve much of what he wanted as a child, he forgot all his childhood dreams. He tries to prove something to the little kid who is he. He gives him advice, explains something. But he can’t overcome the starry-eyed boy’s disappointment, and the boy rejects this version of himself in the future.”

  “Gradually they start patching things up and then, looking back over the years, the man points out his own mistakes and gives the boy tips.”

  “The main conclusion of the book is one should not live a sated, contented life in a straight line, but take initiative. Life is not a preset route like a railway. Life is a movie and living it like a humble extra in it is the most boring thing that can possibly happen to you. Run from a full belly, tranquility and safety. By the way, that is what our Prince Albert is like: he’s been to the North Pole, competed in the Paris-Dakar rally, even taken part in the Olympics five times.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “So you’d realize that by taking a risk with Pascal, you’re doing him a favor. He’s playing an extra’s part with no highs or lows. If you offered him a chance to switch from being a desk drone to being the lead character in a wild financial venture, what do you think he’d say? You’ll be betraying him the same way he did you, if you don’t hoist him out of there, or, at least, try. What sort of friend are you if you won’t lend him a hand?”

  Isaac said nothing for a long time, then he pulled over onto the shoulder and gave Bikie a hug.

  “You’re a real friend, Bikie.”

  “More slobbering. I already know I’m a real friend,” Bikie remarked, but without a drop of his trademark acidity.

  The sun quickly disappeared and evening set in. On the whole, the journey was going well, with no incidents. Soon Lyon came into sight and they had a bite at a gas station in the town.

  Bikie replaced Isaac at the wheel. Exhausted by the monotonous journey, Isaac fell asleep. They only woke him up after the signpost saying there were sixty kilometers away from Paris. It was almost four in the morning, in two hours it would start to get light.

  After some more hot coffee from a thermos flask, Isaac moved into the front beside Bikie. In the windscreen, a searchlight ran along the horizon, shining upwards and to one side from somewhere. There was still quite a distance left to Paris, but the Eiffel Tower was already announcing its presence. “A ray of light, cutting through the darkness. Yet another optimistic omen,” Isaac noted to himself.

  The Eiffel Tower was built for the 100th anniversary of the 1789 French Revolution. Even back in school, Isaac had liked that date, because it was easy to remember: seven, eight, and nine, like a sequence. In honor of the anniversary of the American Revolution, France gave the USA another towering monument: the Statue of Liberty. Gustave Eiffel was involved in creating that, too. “Revolutions, revolutions, and what date is it now, is it easy to remember?” Isaac thought and laughed. “What if the school kids of the future would have to learn it by heart, too?”

  As a matter of fact, when the Eiffel Tower was built, many people objected and attacked the project. Three hundred famous individuals, including Guy de Maupassant and Alexandre Dumas, demanded the removal of the structure, calling it an ugly iron monster. Fortunately, no one listened to them and thank God. How could you possibly imagine Paris now without its most important symbol? “People, even the clever and talented ones, can make mistakes and take the wrong attitude towards innovations,” Isaac pondered. “We will give Pascal his creativity back and find out if we are right or not in just a few hours, I hope.”

  Half an hour later, Bikie turned towards Versailles, close to where Euro
pe’s main Einsteiner server was located. The little LED display on Link’s device started blinking, indicating that there was a major energy source nearby. Link put the helmet on Pascal and his assistant switched on the download system.

  “No connection yet. We need to drive closer,” Red Beard said. “Northwards.”

  The location of the reservoir was no secret, there were even signs on the road. For safety reasons, they wanted to try downloading Pascal’s energy from as far away as possible to minimize the chance of being noticed.

  The steady connection couldn’t be obtained just that easily, and eventually, the van drove up quite close to the server building. It was guarded, but not a military site, thank God. Only the fence around the facility was kept under surveillance. They drove around until they found a spot with a more stable connection, got off the road into a car park and switched off the engine. Bikie and Isaac moved to the back of the van with everyone else. Pascal was sleeping peacefully. Link finally adjusted the receiver on his helmet and they heard a long squeak.

  “It’s time! We have a steady signal,” Link declared, picking up a Dictaphone. “Test OE scan number one. Subject Pascal Dean, twenty-eight years of age. Physical condition normal, no apparent medical conditions. Distance from the reservoir approximately four hundred meters. Visible interference hazards: a concrete wall and metal fence. Internal obstructions unknown. The output of connected battery – two kilowatts. Check the straps,” Link added. “One minute remaining. Hold him, just in case.”

  Pascal lay there, strapped to the seat. He was firmly tied, but crude force might still be required to deal with… no one knew what. Red Beard directed the range-finder towards the storage server, increasing the signal power again.

  “Thirty seconds! Ten… Five… Go!”

  “Input download initiated,” Red Beard announced, keeping his eyes fixed on the helmet indicator.

  Isaac and Bikie held Pascal’s arms and legs. The helmet started buzzing. Pascal shuddered but didn’t wake up.