Einsteiner

by V. K. Fourstone

  “Our strong point is that they don't even suspect that we are fighting against them. We are the secret underground. They aren't worried, thinking that everything has always been under control. Believe me, if this ever occurred to them, even a brief analysis of our search in the net would be enough to throw both of us to jail and download!”

  Isaac didn't want to get back behind bars. The first trial was more than enough, and as he remembered the tight handcuffs on his own hands, he came to the conclusion that indeed it was their chance that the enemy didn't know about their existence.

  Chapter 7

  “Good morning, could I see Peter Wolanski, please?”

  The young guy who had opened the door in the gate looked at Isaac closely and enquired politely:

  “Who’s asking for him… and on what business?”

  “My name is Isaac Leroy and I’m here on a personal matter.”

  The young guy looked Isaac up and down again, cast a glance at his scooter and opened the door wider.

  “We-ell, all ri-ight,” he said uncertainly, stretching out the words. “Come in,” he added.

  He moved aside to let Isaac through.

  The house itself was not large, and set on a wide, flat plot of ground – a rarity in the Cap d’Ail district. Six massive, dark-red columns, two of which ran down into a beautiful, sky-blue swimming pool. Windows down to the floor, lots of glass, lots of clear light and fresh air. The obligatory pampered palms trees on the grounds and lots of olive trees. A magnificent view of the sea. If someone lived in a villa like this, their life had come together very nicely. Through the glass walls Isaac saw a collection of modern art, both paintings and sculptures. He didn’t know much about artwork, but even he recognized one of the works as an Andy Warhol print.

  “He’s sitting pretty,” thought Isaac. “It’s a shame my parents weren’t rich. But never mind, I’ll make it anyway.”

  “Sit here,” the young guy told Isaac, pointing to a glass table surrounded by wicker furniture. “Well, I’m listening; tell what this personal matter you have for me is. I’m Peter Wolanski.”

  Of course, Isaac had realized immediately that it was Peter himself who opened the gate. Although he hadn’t found a photo on the internet, the young guy was the right age, plus he had an accent. From the dossier Isaac remembered that Peter had no brothers or sisters, and this guy had studied him too closely to be simply an acquaintance or friend of the villa’s owner. Isaac had been right to pin on his scientific society badge from university. Peter was clearly familiar with the badge and it had a favorable effect.

  “So what exactly brings you to see me?”

  “I just wanted to meet you. And maybe make friends. We went to the same university, although at different time. And we’re members of the same scientific society. I’m an inventor, by the way.”

  “You are? And what have you invented? And what’s the point of us becoming friends?”

  “I’ve developed a couple of gadgets. Right now I’m planning to sell one of them.”

  “Not to me, I hope?” Wolanski enquired.

  “Of course not,” Isaac smiled. “Although you’re capable of buying, I’m not here to sell you anything…”

  “Well, that’s splendid,” Peter put in.

  “The reason for my coming Peter…May I call you Peter?” Peter nodded.

  “Is to invite you to join a recently formed, let’s say… scientific society.”

  “A scientific society? Interesting especially in times like these. What society is that?”

  “Obviously you’re not a Happy,” said Isaac, testing the waters. “They never show so much curiosity.”

  “Of course I’m not a Happy. I don’t have much faith in that piece of wishful thinking. And apart from that, it was a condition of my father’s will that no one in the Wolanski family should become a downloader. Not to mention that it’s also the fundamental condition of my inheritance,” Peter smiled ironically.

  “I’m no fan of Einsteiner and the Agency either, although my rating is as much as 28015.”

  “How much?” Peter asked in amazement. In fact Isaac’s rating was more than twice as high, but he had named the specific figure that was Peter’s level.

  “Twenty-eight thousand and fifteen,” Isaac rapped out, articulating each figure distinctly.

  “Incredible… How did you find out my rating?”

  “Ah, this guy’s no fool,” Isaac thought to himself. “No wonder he’s a leader. No smokescreen for long with someone like this, better to try speaking more openly, or else he would sense a lie or a trick, wouldn’t believe and might even hand you over to the police.”

  “Information came my way…” Isaac paused significantly, “from a very reliable source.”

  “What information? How?”

  Isaac wondered whether to tell him or not. There was a pause.

  “Okay, all right. You don’t have to tell me. For now. Perhaps I don’t want to know anything about it.” Peter thought for a moment and added: “But since you’re here on a personal matter, and this is the first time I’ve seen you, I don’t promise to answer questions either.”

  This made Isaac feel a little uneasy, his thoughts scattering.

  “I’ve read your student blog. I must say, you’re not very fond of Einsteiner. And I’m planning to go and download, so I decided to get some advice from people who are well up on this,” Isaac lied.

  “Rubbish! For that you can log into the internet without ever leaving home. Good bye.”

  “Wait! I’ve invented this,” said Isaac, changing the subject and putting the V-Rain on the table. “Turn on the lawn sprinkler and you’ll see how it works.”

  “We’ll get soaked.”

  “I don’t think so,” Isaac responded with a smile.

  Peter took a remote control out of his pocket and turned on the sprinkler. Isaac neatly pressed the “on” button, and not a single drop fell on them or the table between them.

  “Some gadget! That’s really cool.” Peter was impressed.

  “The range of action without increasing the size of the device is four meters, from four to five meters away ten per cent of the drops get through.”

  “Yes, any restaurant would pay a heap of money for that gismo, it would let them keep the same number of tables out during a rainy spell.”

  Now it was Isaac’s turn to sit there open-mouthed. Well done, Peter. Until this moment it hadn’t even occurred to Isaac to sell the device to restaurants.

  “You’re right. You and I have just demonstrated the possibility of collective intellect without any downloading of energy.”

  “Isaac, do you want to hear me say that I don’t like the Agency? Well, I don’t. What else?’

  “No, Peter, I want to know just how much you dislike it.”

  “I dislike it very much. Why?”

  “And I hate it fiercely. And that is the purpose of my visit.”

  “I don’t feel fierce hatred, but I sense that this whole business will end badly.”

  “Perhaps very badly indeed. It’s an epidemic. And epidemics have to be…”

  “Halted?” asked Peter, again catching Isaac’s thought in mid-phrase.

  “Yes, and that’s the goal of our scientific society. To find the one who will do it.”

  Isaac liked Peter. What a pleasure it really was to talk to an intelligent individual. Memories of Pascal came flooding back.

  “Don’t be afraid, tell me.” – Peter’s hint brought Isaac back to reality.

  “You remind me of a friend of mine. He understood everything before I finished saying it too.”

  “Did he die?”

  “To some extent. He’s a brainless Veggie now.”

  “Well, it happens. What I dislike about this business is the general degeneration. And it’s very strange that Collective Mind doesn’t publish statistics on the children born to Veggies. They publish all sorts of things, but they don’t disclose that information. I rummaged in the Internet recentl
y and discovered that the Veggies’ kids are all Veggies too. They’re born straight away without any orange energy. Collective Mind is searching for the reason, for a cure. Now that it’s surfaced, they don’t try to conceal the fact any more. They say this is a new problem, but sooner or later they’ll fix it.”

  “Yes, I read that too. Just how they intend to fix it isn’t clear. An energy transplant? They have the technology but there’s a lot they don’t know about it. I don’t think they’ll be able to develop it further in the near future without Link.”

  “They’re hoping it’s a developmental thing and the energy will come. And some children, just a few, are born with some creativity. After all, the oldest child born to two Happies is still only five. Anyway, have I answered your question? Drop this circus act and tell me what you came for, or is the answer already enough for you?”

  “They really do not understand all about the system, because they haven’t downloaded Professor Link. This is something I know for sure,” Isaac added emphatically.

  “You suppose so?”

  “I know so.”

  “Wow! How could you know that?” Wolansky’s intonation told him he can stop worrying to be kicked out without finishing.

  Isaac couldn’t tell Peter about Link yet, that he had seen the precise statistics on newborn children. Yes, some children did have creativity, which was true. Only no one had done a DNA analysis. It wasn’t certain that mum and dad were both Veggies. After all, there were enough cuckolds around and maybe Collective Mind had implanted embryos from normal people in Veggie women, who could tell? The important thing was that the conversation with Peter Wolanski was encouraging and he felt he could actually start talking.

  “Put it this way, now I’m prepared to ask… not just to ask my question, but to explain my idea…”

  Peter leaned forward, clearly eager to know.

  “I want to find Professor Link. To know more about this technology. Then to demolish the system. Destroy it physically or ideologically. Or invent some kind of virus. I want to stop Collective Mind and the wholesale stupefaction.”

  “And how do you intend to do it? Is this a plan or just a naked idea?”

  “An idea Peter, as yet it’s only an idea. No plan. But you have to fight fire with fire. I want to oppose collective intellect with collective intellect. But living one. I’m putting together a team and looking for fellow thinkers to set the human race back on its previous path. That’s my scientific society.”

  “And you came to me with this?”

  Peter was clearly astounded at the scale of the concept. He could see that Isaac wasn’t joking and he wasn’t insane. Which meant he was absolute serious. Seeing Peter’s response, Isaac regretted that the idea of the scientific society had occurred to him too late. If it had come sooner, perhaps he could have reached an arrangement with Michelle Blanche and Abdul.

  “You’re crazy because it’s impossible. You’re a genius, if you pull it off,” Wolanski declared.

  “Let’s just say my rating is 57,555, and I’m by no means the biggest brain box. There are heavier people than that. Did you hear about the terrorist attack here in Monaco? I’m the fifth hostage that Elvis took, but they didn’t write anything about me. The police took me for an accomplice at first, but when they figured out what I was, they let me go. The moment had passed, the journalists had lost interest, so I was left in the shade, I learned something from that story, literally and metaphorically. First, I’ll never set foot in that place again, secondly I decided to do everything I could to find Professor Link, and thirdly, I ended up with the memory of the branch’s central computer, and there was some intriguing stuff in it. Your rating, for instance and not just yours, but hundreds of people’s: brief CVs and all sorts of information that basically make it possible to find others who think like me. The Agency is powerful, but don’t forget that the technology was invented by one man. Who, by the way, has not become a Veggie.”

  “Now I get it. I must say you intrigued me when you mentioned my rating. That really got me interested.”

  “And I’ve come to you for specific help.”

  “What kind?”

  “I need money. I have no resources to implement my plan. I’ve left my job and the bank is about to foreclose on my apartment. From the list of people that came my way, you’re not the only one with money, but you’re one of those who have criticized the system openly. Some of the rich people have already moved to somewhere else, some don’t look trustworthy, some have already gone bust. Some are religious or too law-abiding. Basically, there aren’t all that many options but there are some. You and I are the same age, that’s already a plus. Apart from the money, knowledge is important. You’re a chemist and who knows, we might have to blow something up or dissolve something. I don’t have a clue how the technology works. It’s the closest kept secret in the world. But Link is the one who does.”

  “Mmm, this is very sudden. And you only want money?” Peter’s voice sounded a bit disappointed. “And has anybody else agreed to help you?”

  “Yes, but we’d better consider that I’m alone.”

  “Well then, all right. That’s even better.”

  “And I’ll give you back the money when I sell my invention.”

  Peter leaned back pensively in his chair.

  “I’m no supporter of the system, but I’d never thought seriously about wrecking it. I have to think about it.”

  After that Isaac and Peter made some small talk about various things for just a bit longer. For the last fifteen minutes they simply drank coffee. Peter tried to be hospitable. Isaac was beginning to like the way his life had turned more and more. Only a week ago he had to make do with the tipsy customers of the America, and his flights of fantasy were limited to how to find money for Vicky. But now he had an interesting, boorishly brutal partner in Bikie, and he found talking to Peter really exciting and – most important of all – he now had a big goal.

  Both Isaac and Peter regarded this conversation as important. Each of them hedged his bets so that later, if anything happened, he could tell the police that the idea of destruction had only been mentioned as a light-hearted fantasy from the same category as “let’s fly to the moon” or “let’s move Mont Blanc”. A trifling conversation, not even the slightest intention of really doing anything.

  As the sun started to set, the two young men exchanged phone numbers, wished each other good luck, and Isaac left.

  As they parted, they agreed that in any case Peter would keep quiet about the visit. And if he decided to reject the offer, he would simply call and say he wasn’t going to invest in Isaac’s invention.

  Chapter 8

  Peter called on the third day in the afternoon and asked to come for dinner that evening. He said he had good news.

  Even though the meeting with Peter left a good impression and the candidate inspired trust, Isaac was still a bit nervous. On the way there he kept glancing around all the time. Bikie, who was entrusted with countering any negative consequences of the meeting, tried everything he could to calm him down and cheer him up a bit.

  Bikie approached the question of security very systematically and professionally. He tapped Peter’s phone, hacked into his mail account and even undertook to watch the house in person. If Peter had contacted the police or lawyers, or if he had dialed a suspicious number, the two of them would have known about it.

  Isaac assumed that Peter wasn’t exactly in the team already, but he obviously wasn’t refusing. So the news wasn’t excellent, but it wasn’t bad. Any help would be appreciated, and it could do no harm. Bikie, carefree as ever, suggested taking it easy and being cool.

  Isaac and Bikie decided to go visit Peter together. Peter did not call a meeting in order to refuse to collaborate. Bikie remarked with a solemn face that Peter hadn’t called anyone at all – for certain. All he’d done was call twice to order a pizza. And Peter didn’t need to call anyone to take a decision. For that he had his own head on his shoulders,
his own brains and his intact OE.

  At seven in the evening they were at Wolanski’s house. Peter opened the door in the gate himself, greeted Isaac and offered Bikie his hand.

  “Peter.”

  “Bikie.”

  “Come in.”

  Large, comfortable sofas were laid out on the lawn, a barbecue was smoking, and several bottles of cold beer were glinting in the sun.

  “I’ve arranged a little picnic. I invited you and one friend of mine.”

  Isaac and Bikie exchanged glances of alarm.

  “Don’t worry, it’s someone reliable.”

  “I hope you haven’t told him too much?”

  “No, I simply invited her to dinner in a pleasant company.”

  Now it was clear that Bikie’s surveillance had failed – he’d missed something. He had either tapped the wrong line, or did not have all of the numbers. Bikie was embarrassed at having screwed up, and he kept giving Isaac very guilty glances. He clearly hadn’t been expecting that Peter could actually talk to anyone without him knowing, and his self-confidence evaporated. Bikie had lost sight of something.

  A car honked at the gates. Peter returned with a girl about twenty years old.

  “I’m Sandrine.”

  “Isaac.”

  “Bikie.”

  “Pleased to meet you.”

  Isaac relaxed. He thought it funny to see Bikie looking like a spy caught red-handed.

  “I’m not certain, but to judge from your name, you won’t refuse this.” Peter was holding a pack of dark Guinness.

  “Thanks,” Bikie mumbled.

  “Help yourself. Sandrine is my very close friend, my girlfriend and, I hope, my fiancée.”

  Sandrine smiled and laid her head on Peter’s shoulder.

  “We’re going away on a trip for a couple of months. First to Stockholm, Copenhagen and the Baltic, possibly to St. Petersburg and Moscow, and then we’ll decide where else. I haven’t done any traveling for a long time, so I’ll enjoy the ride. They say the summer in those parts is very pleasant, not as hot as here and I think I’ll get by without the sea for a while. I want to take a look at Germany, my grandfather’s home country. As well as Poland. They say Polish girls are quite something.”