Hacking Einsteiner (Einsteiner, Book 2)

by VK Fourstone

  To develop the design, the computer used absolutely all the ideas of architects, artists and everyone else who had donated their creativity, utilizing at the same time the most advanced and bold engineering solutions, even those that had never been used for constructing buildings before. Everyone was absolutely astounded when they saw what combined orange energy was capable of.

  It was not known what else the computer used in its proposal, but all members of the jury voted for the design, with the result being that a magnificent building has been erected in the presently tranquil area of East Harlem, where property prices immediately shot up.

  The building turned out superb, unlike any others, and included elements of some of well recognizable styles from various periods. For instance, at the main entrance a classical column seemed to have been frozen in light-blue melted glass, forming a magnificent arch. The astounding mélange of styles enchanted even seasoned specialists, and day and night ordinary people walked round the building, keeping their eyes glued to it. Journalists promptly dubbed the style “neo-eclecticism”.

  It was quite a sight. The main gimmick was the building’s total lack of symmetry, so that if you walked around it, its contour constantly changed. This accomplished an additional important effect – all viewers liked the design, because everyone could find his own preferred perspective. The same building seemed to have three hundred and sixty views, one for each degree of the circle. From one angle there was a hint of Gothic, from another angle a hint of Modernism, and from yet another – of Post-Modernism. Every person walking round it could find a point at which he simply couldn’t help gasping in admiration, because it fit so perfectly their own ideal of harmony. The building really delighted each and every person who viewed it. An entire collection of masterpieces, correctly assembled together.

  The problem came when the Agency tried to use the same volumetric space approach for designing its next building: the operator connected to the computer, which turned out exactly the same design, only slightly smaller. Almost exactly the same – apparently, the addition of creativity from a few new downloaders had some effect. And no matter how hard they struggled and shuffled the operators around, they still got identical designs.

  To be fair, the new buildings were similar in style, all neo-eclectic, but the designs for multi-story skyscrapers and small buildings did in fact differ from each other. With buildings of the same size, there were certain differences that the computer allowed – depending on climate, solar irradiation and the surrounding environment.

  As an expression of its gratitude, the Guggenheim Foundation gave the Collective Mind its old premises. Moving the servers from the United Nations tower to the relatively small white building beside Central Park was not really all that necessary, but the Agency saw it as a political PR opportunity.

  Americans are practical people, they turn everything into a business, a show, a way of making money. And the place where OE was stored was no exception. After the Agency’s American office was installed in the former museum, they set up a huge permanent exhibition of their achievements there, to promote the idea of downloading. Of course, there was no real-life machinery and buildings on display, just models and 3D photographs. You could download your OE right there on the spot and the Collective Mind’s main American server was located somewhere underground.

  The basic concept of a visit to Guggenheim had not changed since its early days – first arriving via the elevator and then walking down along a spiral, examining the exhibits. Only the exhibits were now of a much cooler kind. Isaac stopped in front of almost every one; they were so fascinating. He even momentarily wondered if they were making a big mistake. He decided that they were not – none of these models, videos and pictures, and everything they depicted, would disappear.

  A separate section was devoted to prior ideas and discoveries. Long before the discovery of OE, mankind had sensed that it existed. Why was one person more talented than another? It was a matter of genetics, upbringing, education, but something else as well. A divine spark, charisma, an aura – these and numerous other terms had now been given a precise definition: Human Imagination Tone.

  At the end of the exhibition there were amusements and attractions and anyone could take an express test for their OE level. People were lured with challenges: “Find out how much you’re worth”, “Be one of today’s top ten, of this week’s top hundred”, “Have you got five stars?”. Even though he knew his level, Isaac found it hard to resist being measured again.

  On all sides they were selling trinkets, little magnets and postcards with images of the Museum, including memory sticks shaped as little big-headed men. Those had no connectors, working on blue tooth.

  There was a download center in the basement of the museum, while its rear section housed an annex, conference hall and staff offices.

  Link spent no more than fifteen minutes in the museum and then asked Isaac to go outside with him

  “I don't want to go back into the museum,” he explained. “There is a risk that I’ll be recognized. There are more of my portraits in there than ‘wanted’ posters in a police station. But I have spotted something important there. There will be a conference in the museum in two days. I suggest we think about how we can get into it.”

  Isaac nodded. He also thought about the conference.

  “We’ll try our best. See you at the hotel.”

  As they examined the exhibits, the plotters took note of important things such as the location of entrances the security guards and the cameras.

  Isaac approached Bikie and Pascal and shared his thoughts that had been bothering him since yesterday.

  “Listen, Pascal, are we sure about your amplifier?”

  “Yes, of course! Everything will run like clockwork. I don’t know what fancy stuff Link has cooked up, but I’m not worried about my part.”

  “OK. Bikie, I just thought that the professor is probably developing an exit plan. But we aren’t. I think Pascal should go back we can manage here without him.”

  “I agree, he’s no big loss,” Bikie said with his usual sarcasm. “There’s no point in the whole crowd scurrying about here, with no back up at home.”

  “Pellegrini’s flying in late this evening and he worries me too. Who knows….what if we were wrong about him after all?” Isaac continued. “I think Pascal ought to leave before he appears, just to be on the safe side.”

  “Makes sense,” Bikie said. “What do you say, Pascal?”

  “I don’t want to leave. But Isaac has a point,” Pascal agreed.

  “I’m worried that Link isn’t thinking about escape routes. Or maybe he is, just not telling us. I also noticed that his assistant, the Red Beard, has not come either,” Isaac continued sharing his concerns.

  “And what if he has thought about us?” asked Bikie.

  “That’s fine. Pascal will think about him too. And if something happens, we’ll have two getaway plans in place. Will you give it some thought?”

  “Yes, of course. But how will the professor fly out without me, Isaac?”

  “Don’t worry. Leaving America is far easier than getting into it.”

  So they settled on that. Having left the museum they went to the hotel, where Pascal packed his things and went to the airport. Isaac remembered to call Wolanski. He didn’t feel like it, but he couldn’t put it off any longer. The commissioner was due to arrive soon. Isaac had to warn Peter, just in case. The phone they bought for Pascal was perfectly okay for that.

  “Peter, sorry to wake you,” Isaac said in response to Wolanski’s sleepy “Hello?” “What hotel are you in?”

  “The Armani,” Peter replied. “Call me.”

  Isaac quickly found the number on the internet, called it and asked to be put through to Peter Wolanski’s room. The front-desk receptionist hesitated, explaining that it was late night in Dubai.

  “Don’t worry, he’s expecting my call,” Isaac assured her.

  Two rings and Peter answered the phone.r />
  “Listen, Peter. My old childhood friend, who became a Veggie, is doing just fine, but what came up is that there is sort of a side effect – he doesn’t remember a bloody thing, as if he had been sleeping for two years. But the two of us got a certain persnickety individual all steamed up. With shoulder straps. In short, he got too close to us. It would take too long to explain, but the point is, he had to spend a couple of days as our reluctant guest”.

  “What?” Peter’s voice broke down to groaning. “Shugar…”

  And he hung up. Isaac dialed his number again, but there was no answer.

  In fifteen minutes Wolanski called back.

  “Isaac, we hadn’t agreed it this way! You shouldn’t have dragged me into this, guys. And now this…”

  “Wait, Peter!” Isaac snapped. “It’s all good. Don’t shit your pants, man. This guy is for us now! Moreover, we know now, we are sure, that they are all like that. It’s like a coma. So everything we are doing is right. After speaking with my friend, this pesky guest changed his mind and he is now going to help us…voluntarily. I trust him. However I’m not entirely sure. I’ve warned you just in case. I’m sorry, we were working for you and we pulled these messy stunts in your house. You didn’t know anything,” Isaac added, just to be sure in case someone was listening.

  “I, I… sorry guys, but you are fired,” said Wolanski in an icy, but still trembling voice. “And there’s something else very important! Make sure you call me before… Call me a day before! Don’t forget. Now you’re sacked, Mr. Leroy.” And Peter hung up again.

  “Thank you, Mr. Wolanski. Sorry, again,” Isaac mumbled automatically and looked at his watch: the second conversation took 57 seconds.

  He felt that Peter apparently wanted to say something. “He’s probably scared again,” he thought, smiling to himself. “Although he’s quite a brave man. Brave enough to overcome his blind fear. It’s just that he’s still very young and has never come across a real danger in his respectable life.” He wasn’t angry with Peter for freaking out; you can’t ask too much from people. Having finally told him about Pellegrini, Isaac felt relieved. Peter didn’t call back.

  That evening Pellegrini arrived and moved into the hotel next door. He might be their ally, but a certain mutual dislike still lingered after his kidnapping. However, that was a minor detail compared with the fact that he kept his word: he had not betrayed them and came to help.

  Isaac went to see him at the hotel lobby. They greeted each other and went down to the bar.

  “What are the plans?” the commissioner enquired.

  “Tomorrow we are going to the site. The goal is to get into a conference that is taking place there in two days,” Isaac replied briefly. “The server’s in the basement. We have to get to it.”

  “OK, I get it. When are we going?”

  “At eleven. So there’ll be plenty of visitors around.”

  “I see. Until tomorrow then. At 10.30 here in the lobby.”

  “And here, take this,” said Isaac, handing the commissioner a local phone.

  The commissioner nodded and walked to the elevator, stretching his back.

  He obviously didn’t fly the Concorde, or in business class. “That’s a government employee’s business trip for you,” Isaac thought in sympathy as he watched the translucent doors close.

  14

  Tomorrow arrived and the plotters walked into the Guggenheim again.

  Pellegrini hung back at the entrance. Once inside, he went straight to the head of house security and introduced himself, saying that he worked in the police department in Paris and collaborated closely with the Collective Mind.

  “I’m on leave here, and I found out this interesting conference was taking place,” Pellegrini went straight to the point. “Could you please help me, as a colleague, get into it?”

  “Of course,” the head of security replied with a beaming white smile. “I’ll give you a guest pass. Here you are.”

  Pellegrini thanked him, examined the pass and, without giving away disappointment: that was not exactly what he wanted. No chip, no magnetic strip. He obviously could not get into the basement with that.

  “Tell me, I have another question,” he continued, mangling the words slightly in the French manner. “Can I take a look at the list of speakers?”

  “Certainly. Over there,” said the American, pointing towards a square table. “Pick up the program. Only don’t take it away, it’s my last one.”

  A stroke of luck this time. A double one. Firstly, the head of security obviously was not curious and did not ask questions why Pellegrini wanted the list. And secondly, the sponsors of the conference were listed on the program, including a five-star hotel. For the first time in ages Pellegrini was able to use a detective’s most important skill – a good memory. He memorized several names and the name of the hotel where these scientists would be staying for the next three days. To be on the safe side, so that the American would understand why he had wanted to look at the list, Pellegrini muttered: “Oh, Dr. Cohen decided to come after all, wonderful! I definitely must listen to his talk. You are really helpful. I am most grateful.”

  “You can take a photo of the program on your cell phone. So you won’t forget anything,” the head of security suggested.

  “That’s even better!” said the commissioner, giving him a broad smile.

  When he found Isaac and Bikie, Pellegrini only showed them his pass for the conference. He decided to tell them the rest later.

  “Excuse me, you were here yesterday!” a pretty girl in white uniform caught up with Isaac. “Have you decided to get your level measured after all? The stand is over here on the right, you almost walked past it.”

  “Good guess,” Isaac gasped in relief and smiled. “I decided to get measured after all.”

  Isaac sat down in a comfortable chair. They put a disposable cap on his head, asked him to close his eyes and relax.

  “Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt at all,” - looked like the girl was flirting with him a little.

  ‘I’m not worried. I just don’t want to appear stupid in your eyes,” Isaac said with a wink, joining her game.

  Bikie was observing this scene from a short distance and he gave Isaac a thumbs-up.

  A soft melody began playing in the helmet and Isaac started feeling drowsy. The melody obviously had some kind of hypnotic effect, because the next thing he saw, or rather, felt, was that he had woken up. Everything was exactly as his first time, in Monaco.

  They helped Isaac take off the helmet and get up out of the chair.

  “Congratulations, you have a very high level. I’m awed! Here you are, I’ve printed out your result and potential fee.” The girl was clearly impressed by both his high rating and the six-figure number.

  Isaac glanced at the certificate. The rating was five points lower than his previous result. “But even so, that’s a margin of error of only 0.01%,” he calculated.

  “Maybe you’d like to take part in the records competition?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “You don’t want to fill out a questionnaire?”

  “No thanks, I don’t. And to be honest, this isn’t the first time. I’m already registered.”

  “So you were trying to impress me like this?”

  “You read my mind,” said Isaac, feigning embarrassment. “Can I come back to you later?”

  “Of course you can!” said the girl, rewarding Isaac with an expressive smile.

  Bikie slapped Isaac on the shoulder and murmured his approval.

  “Well done, you’re making progress. She could be useful!”

  “And just who was my teacher? Mr. Chrome Casanova himself!” Isaac joked.

  They looked at a semi-transparent screen. A video sequence started and a voice over informed them about the operating principle of the system.

  “In order to use the creative energy, the operator puts on the helmet and starts thinking about the problem; immediately a lot of ideas occur to him.
He notes down these ideas. The computer has a faultless memory. Even if the answer given is not complete, it contains at least a definite part. Like a skeleton, in which some bones may be missing, either large or small, but most tasks result in absolutely complete formulae.”

  Bikie set off resolutely towards the testing chair. He had his OE tested previously too. But unlike Isaac, he did not refuse to take part in the ratings, and he didn’t regret it.

  “Well now, here’s a little gift certificate for you,” the girl at the stand twittered. “It says here that you set the record of the day and the record of the week, so congratulations once again.”

  “You know, I saw you have a conference on OE here. I just can’t make up my mind whether I should download. Maybe I could attend the conference, as the winner of the week?”

  “I wouldn’t mind going too,” Isaac put in.

  “You know, there were tickets on sale. But now it’s sold out, unfortunately. Although, wait a minute, I’ll be right back.” And she disappeared through a door with the words “Staff only”.

  Five minutes later she was back, with a colorful leaflet.

  “There, take that. It’s an invitation. We sent them out to some journalists and scientists, and a few came back because of the wrong address. This one is a spare. My gift to you.”

  “Why, you’re absolutely fantastic!” Bikie exclaimed. “I’m almost in love.”

  “Go and enjoy. I see you’re a nice guy too, maybe you will contribute to the system somehow.”

  “Superb! I definitely will!”

  Isaac and Bikie couldn’t believe their luck when they saw that the invitation was for two persons! That really improved the situation.

  “Now,” murmured Isaac, barely moving his lips, “counting Pellegrini, all three of us are inside already.”

  “Don’t get too overjoyed,” Pellegrini remarked when they left the laboratory and museum. “You and I have got guest passes. They don’t give access to the basement where the server is. But don’t get too downhearted either,” the commissioner continued ironically. “I’ve got the names of the people who have full-access passes, and their address.”