The Genesis Code

by Lisa von Biela

  “No way can we let him walk. What did you do to stall him?”

  Jeff explained the bargain he’d struck.

  “OK, that buys us a few weeks. I’ll start working on it right away.”

  CHAPTER 38

  After wrapping up his first appointment of the day, Evan Cleary sat down at his computer and idly scrolled through the weekly OneMarket internal newsletter. Business was expanding, as usual. New contracts in all divisions of the company. Harris had himself a gold mine here. Wondering how they’d support all the new work, he glanced through the staffing updates to count the new hires. Then something grabbed his attention.

  Terry Simmons was listed in the Departures section!

  Evan splashed coffee onto his desk as he hastily set down his cup and read the blurb. All it said was the standard by mutual agreement…blah, blah…moving on to other pursuits crap.

  He sat up straight and tense in his chair, not sure what to think. On the one hand, if Simmons had broken free of OneMarket’s financial tethers and demands, he’d have a shot at a balanced life. But he must still have the device implanted. Who knew the long-term effects of that thing if he never had it removed?

  No one in on the secret could be happy that Simmons was running around free of OneMarket with that implant still in him. Evan wondered if Harris and his cronies had thought about the possibility beforehand, or if they were just so hot to try out the technology that they plunged forward without regard. Did Tyler know about Simmons’ departure yet? And if he did, what did he think about the device going out the door with him?

  He retrieved Simmons’ online records and quickly scanned through them. Now they reflected the migraine visit, so they were probably up-to-date, or as up-to-date as they were ever going to get. Evan wasn’t surprised to see there was no mention of the device or implantation. The file was flagged to automatically archive in sixty days—standard procedure for terminated employees. Not that it was of any use to him without proof or mention of the implantation.

  Evan had to find out if Tyler knew anything about Simmons’ termination, but he didn’t trust him to give an honest answer. He decided to confront the bastard in person. He stood a better chance of judging his response face-to-face than on the phone. Something in his demeanor might betray him.

  Josh Tyler wracked his brain, knowing his short-term options were few. Even thinking optimistically, it would take weeks or months for him to develop the full brain activity monitoring and control capabilities he wanted. He didn’t have that kind of time right now. He had to figure out something—and fast—to make sure that Weston didn’t decide to pursue other opportunities, as they say.

  A knock on his office door interrupted his thoughts. He didn’t have any appointments for another hour or so, and the intrusion infuriated him. He savagely clicked his mouse to hide the Genesis control software and put up a OneMarket screensaver. “Yeah?”

  Cleary walked in, looking more animated than he’d ever seen the doddering old washout.

  “Well, what is it?” Josh was anxious to dispatch him and get back to the problem of Weston. He didn’t care how rude he sounded. The ruder, the better. Get the old fool out of there quicker.

  “Did you hear about Simmons?”

  Josh felt a twinge in his stomach. What had Cleary heard? He, Reyes and Harris had agreed to simply say nothing about Simmons. He was a terminated employee, none of their concern. Had someone found the body already? He was nearly certain he’d left no trace behind; Simmons’ device was safely hidden. He stalled. “Uh, what do you mean?”

  “Newsletter says he terminated. Did you know that?”

  “Yes.”

  Cleary paused and gave a questioning look. “Doesn’t that concern you?”

  “Well, I would have preferred to remove the device if he wasn’t going to need it anymore. I could use it to test future enhancements. I’ve disabled it remotely.” Josh worked to keep his tone calm, unconcerned. He was pleased to observe that Cleary seemed caught off-guard by his low-key reaction. “Is there anything else?”

  “Uh, no, I suppose not.” Cleary stuttered and backed out of the office, shutting the door behind him.

  Josh let out a long breath of relief. Cleary didn’t know anything significant, and he appeared to have swallowed the story. Glad to be rid of him, Josh quickly went back to the implant software and logged on to Weston’s device. He rubbed his hands together in concentration as he refocused on his work.

  He had to keep Weston from resigning. Had to make it so he no longer cared to resign. And he had to make this work fast. Only one option presented itself, no matter which way he turned the problem over in his mind. He’d have to leverage the only input stream his software currently supported: the upload mechanism. He knew it worked with technical documentation, and with specific memories. Now, it would have to work with…beliefs.

  Josh opened a new file and began typing. He typed declarative sentence after declarative sentence, each of them a reason to not resign. He started with simple statements.

  OneMarket is the best place to work.

  Then he moved on to more specific declarations.

  Reyes will find the needed staffing; workloads will normalize.

  He moved on to more motivational statements.

  I can handle the work. I am capable of succeeding, and I want to succeed at OneMarket.

  Josh sat back and reviewed the two pages of statements he had typed into the upload file. They might work, or they might not. He didn’t know what it would take to motivate Weston, and he didn’t dare guess wrong. He had to be certain Weston would not—could not—choose to resign.

  He resumed typing.

  If I leave OneMarket, I will die. I don’t want to leave OneMarket. I don’t want to die. I can’t think of any reason to leave OneMarket. Such thoughts can kill.

  Josh continued until he’d filled another page with similar statements. Satisfied he’d covered all possible angles—positive and negative—with the contents of the file, he prepared it for upload, then transmitted it to Weston’s device.

  It would have to do for now. He made sure the transmission was received, then rushed to his waiting appointment. Tonight—and all nights in the foreseeable future—would be long. He was determined to develop the more sophisticated, thought-level capabilities as quickly as possible while this stopgap transmission did its work.

  CHAPTER 39

  Mark rubbed his burning eyes, gulped some more coffee, and tried to focus on his computer screen. He winced as a sharp pain shot through his stomach. He’d been hitting the coffee hard lately—all day, every day—and the acid was probably starting to take its toll. But he needed the boost to keep going. Food no longer appealed to him, and he had a lot of work to do.

  In the week since Terry left OneMarket, he’d driven himself to keep Terry’s work above water while still staying on track with his own. He’d come to look at the added workload differently since his initial, faint-hearted reaction.

  He’d show them.

  He’d show OneMarket that he could tackle Terry’s work as well. And he expected they’d show their gratitude in a tangible, measurable way when it came time for his promotion. Surely he’d be considered at the top of the performance curve. Hell, he had to be clear off the charts with all he was achieving.

  Sheila was pissed he was working such long hours after they’d agreed he would quit. He tried to make her understand last night, but he couldn’t get through to her. How could he quit now? Reyes had promised more staff, more money, and he was handling the workload just fine in the meantime. He even explained to her the added opportunity it presented for his promotion, but she’d grunted and walked away as if she didn’t believe him.

  Mark shrugged and set Sheila’s frustrations aside. She’d come around eventually. In the meantime, he had too much to do to waste time and energy arguing with her when she had her mind set.

  He opened the most recent test results on the Venezuela project. He hadn’t told Reyes yet, b
ut he might even run a little early, despite all the problems he had at the start. He couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he delivered that news.

  As he scrolled through the test results, a cold jolt joined the pain in his stomach. Where is it? He’d completely forgotten to run the second suite of stress tests against his configuration. He’d planned that test cycle; there it was in his task list. How could he have forgotten to do it? Thankful he hadn’t yet mentioned an early delivery to Reyes, he quickly prepared to start the test.

  He set it to run for several hours using a full volume simulation. Once the process was under way, he grabbed his detailed checklist and reviewed it, starting at the top, just to be sure he hadn’t missed anything else.

  Mark only got about a third of the way down the list when he realized he’d forgotten to link a critical component into the configuration. Shit! He stabbed in the command on the keyboard to shut down the stress test he’d just started. The results would be invalid without first incorporating that component.

  He threw his checklist down onto the desk and roughly rubbed his temples. How in hell could he have forgotten such key steps? What was the point of a checklist if you forgot to follow it? He wanted to get up and yell and slam his fist into his cube wall, but he didn’t want anyone to overhear him and come ask questions. Shaking with fury, jaws clenched, he silently berated himself for his carelessness.

  His stomach growled and tightened. The pain’s sudden intensity refused to be ignored any longer. Catching his breath, Mark kneaded his stomach, trying to calm it and stop the searing pain. It didn’t help; his eyes began to tear. He got up and staggered to the break room to look for something to absorb the acid.

  Still clutching his abdomen, Mark stared glumly at the vending machine. Nothing looked good. He really didn’t feel like eating, but maybe something with some crappy white bread would act like a sponge and help. He selected a sad-looking ham sandwich, threw out the meat and cheese and forced himself to eat the cold, soggy bread.

  Mark flopped down in one of the chairs to wait for the stale bread to mop up some of the acid. He rested his head on the cool table surface and tried to think soothing thoughts until the pain passed. But his mind refused to cooperate; he could only think of the critical mistakes he’d just found in his work. What if he hadn’t found them in time? What if there were more? Visions of a disastrous implementation only served to further agitate his stomach.

  He raised his head just enough to check his watch. Twenty minutes had passed with no relief at all. He didn’t have time to sit here at the mercy of his stomach. He had work to do. He had to be able to function, to make sure he rooted out any other problems he’d created. He decided to take his chances without an appointment and go to the clinic.

  There were one or two other employees in the waiting room, idly flipping through the ancient magazines as they waited for their appointments. He didn’t recognize them; too busy for socializing, he knew almost no one outside his own area. He went up to the receptionist’s window and tapped on it.

  It slid open. “Yes?” said the young woman on duty.

  “I need to see a doctor.”

  “Do you have an appointment?” She glanced down at her computer screen.

  “No. I’m in a lot of pain. Surely you can get me in.”

  She pursed her lips. “We don’t normally do walk-ins.”

  Mark wondered how busy the place ever got at any point in time. “Look, I don’t have time to be in this much pain. I’d appreciate—”

  She tapped something on her keyboard and peered at the computer screen. “All right, Dr. Cleary can take you in a few minutes.” She made a face as if he’d inconvenienced her, then took his name so she could pull his records.

  “Thank you.” Mark took a seat, resentful of the receptionist’s attitude. This was supposed to be a top-notch internal facility, on site to minimize wasted time. He shifted in the chair as he waited, trying without success to find a comfortable position.

  After a few minutes, the waiting room door opened, a nurse called his name and led him back to an exam room. She shut the door and glanced at his chart. “You didn’t have an appointment. Is this something urgent?”

  “Yes, I’m having stomach pain.”

  She asked him to describe it, took down some notes on his chart, and said, “Doctor will be in shortly.” Then she left him alone in the room without further comment.

  Dr. Cleary arrived almost immediately, stepping quickly into the room as if he were anxious to see him. “Mr. Weston, you’re having stomach pains?”

  “Yes, I’ve had them off and on the last couple of days. They were annoying, but not bad enough to be really distracting. Today they’re really bad. They just won’t stop, and they’re keeping me from getting my work done. I have deadlines I need to meet.” Mark fidgeted on the exam table.

  “All right. Lie down and let me check a few things.” Dr. Cleary approached, stuck a thermometer in Mark’s mouth, and took his pulse. Then he palpated his abdomen. Mark groaned a little as the doctor’s fingers probed their way to the worst spot.

  Dr. Cleary removed the thermometer and glanced at it. “Temperature’s near normal. Where have you been feeling the pain mostly?”

  “Left side, right up under my ribs. I think it’s acid.”

  “Has the pain been in the lower right area at any point?”

  “No.”

  “OK, just trying to rule out appendicitis. I’ll have them draw blood to check your white count just to be safe. What have you been eating?”

  Mark confessed his recent eating habits: coffee and little else. Dr. Cleary nodded his head. “All right. I’ll give you a potent antacid to take right away, but you have to quit the coffee for a while and start eating properly. I suspect this is just acid, but if you continue to have the problem, we might want to test for ulcers.” He paused, then asked, “What sort of hours are you putting in that you feel you need this much coffee?”

  Mark chuckled. “Oh, about twelve-to-fourteen-hour days, mostly. Sometimes more.”

  Dr. Cleary shook his head. “That’s not healthy, and you should know it. You’re lucky only your stomach is bothering you. Have you spoken to your manager?”

  Mark waved him off. “Yeah. It’s OK. It’s just temporary. We’re getting more staff soon. I’ll be fine—as long as my stomach quits hurting like this so I can concentrate.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Evan ordered the blood work for Weston then hurried into his office. Checking his schedule, he found he had half an hour before his next appointment. He shut his door and sat down with Weston’s chart.

  He placed it in the center of his desk and stared at it while wondering how best to describe today’s findings. Dare he use the opportunity to start a paper trail on Weston’s implant? He could easily slip a reference to it in his description of Weston’s condition. Though he couldn’t prove the overwork was due to the implant, he knew enough to suspect it, to note it as a possible underlying cause.

  As he weighed the ramifications of mentioning Genesis in the chart, he evaluated Weston’s record. No significant previous history mentioned. No chronic conditions. No known allergies. A very healthy young man. Then OneMarket got hold of him. Insomnia, “cured” by forcing the yet-undocumented implant on him. And now the gastric pain.

  He felt certain his preliminary diagnosis was correct. At least for now. But with the workload Weston was carrying, could an ulcer be far behind? Heart disease? Early death?

  Evan picked up a pen, paused a moment, then began to write.

  Weston presented with moderately severe stomach pains, preliminary diagnosis stress-related gastric hyperacidity brought on by extreme overwork and poor nutrition. Rule out appendicitis with CBC. Follow up if antacid and diet change are not effective. Verify effects of implant uploads.

  He set down his pen. There. He’d done it. He couldn’t take it back now; it was in ink in the file and would be transcribed to the soft version within days. He almost ho
ped Tyler did notice, so he could blow a gasket over it.

  Still, that brief note was all he could honestly record from firsthand knowledge. All he really knew was that Weston had the device. Did they stop with the initial load, or were they spewing more and more into him to keep him working at this sort of inhuman pace?

  If Tyler was driving that young man to work himself to death by pushing messages into his brain, no amount of TV doctor drivel about proper diet would counteract his destruction.

  How could he find out what Tyler was forcing into Weston’s mind? Surely he password-protected his PC, let alone whatever software controlled the devices. No, he knew better than to try to break into the software. He was out of his depth with that sort of thing, and he feared causing more damage by tinkering with it.

  He stared down at Weston’s open chart. He had to do something. He couldn’t let them destroy that young man’s life. But how? He’d tried to not reveal the depth of his disapproval to Tyler. But who was he really fooling? Tyler must know how he felt. He’d thought he could find out more of what was going on if he didn’t get Tyler’s guard up. But that strategy wasn’t working.

  It was time to confront the bastard and demand answers. So what if he stonewalled him? Would he know any less than he did right now? They already excluded him from any discussions related to Genesis. He’d be no worse off, and even if Tyler didn’t offer any hard information, his reactions might reveal something useful.

  He checked Tyler’s schedule on the computer. They both had open time in their schedules in a couple of hours. He’d pay him a visit then, and purposely catch him off-guard. Evan bristled with anticipation. If he handled the confrontation right, it could be the most important thing he’d done for a patient in years.

  CHAPTER 41

  Josh drummed his fingers on his desk and glanced at his watch. Less than an hour until his next appointment. Probably some other corporate drone with eyestrain or a paper cut. He had more important things to deal with. So important, he didn’t quite know where to start.