by Vic Grout
“I don’t know where Andy is,” she sobbed.
*
“So where does that leave us? What can we do?” Andy shook his head in desperation as he asked. They would soon have to re-enter the Look Out. But Jerry’s expression made it clear he had no answers.
“I don’t know Andy,” he admitted. “I’m lost for ideas and time is running out. My external sources tell me that ‘It’ may master the failsafe systems on some nuclear weapons at some point tomorrow – there have been warning signs. I’ve tried telling Don this but he doesn’t believe me: he thinks it’s an excuse to implement your team’s solution before they’re ready. I have to do something but I don’t know what. I do have considerable resources at my disposal. The Quiet Group is everywhere and, even within the US military, many chains of command have broken down in the confusion – generally to the QG’s advantage because we confide in each other and the rest don’t trust anyone any more, including themselves. Things are possible now that were not only a few days ago. I can call upon many people in very powerful places and positions. I can deploy significant force if necessary, and most defence systems are currently inoperable. But I have nothing to deploy it against!” He paused. “And I have to tell you, Andy, that I now fear very much for the safety of your team.”
“Why?”
“Because you have served your purpose.”
“What purpose was that?”
“The powers-that-be – the elite – can’t really be sure that It will eventually destroy Itself in time: they need an insurance policy. So they needed you to provide the disconnect-set to kill It when they were ready; now you have. They also had to make sure that you didn’t help anyone destroy this OI, as part of a smaller node set: that’s why Don didn’t want it calculated and why they’ve insisted on keeping at least two of you here, as a sort of ‘human shield’ – you are correct in thinking it didn’t matter which two it was. (By the way, I also believe your friend has been lied to regarding the true extent of her injuries to maintain her good spirits.)” Andy nodded in agreement – and shame. Jerry continued. “But, now that Don and his team have the disconnect-set and it does not include their critical nodes, they may not see the need to keep you around much longer. There are other groups of scientists around the world in similar peril and some information is beginning to leak out on social media. However, no-one trusts any material any more because so much is corrupted by It so there is little threat to the powers-that-be as yet. But I fear for your group above all.”
A desperate plan was forming in Andy’s mind.
“Right. We’ve always assumed that the disconnect-set would just be switched off and unplugged everywhere,” he said. “Are you saying it could be taken out by force? Destroyed?”
“Yes, to a limited extent. There are QG people everywhere still and they are in all positions of control, deployment and execution. The QG has perhaps become the world’s most coordinated body in this crisis and has already achieved much good where the conventional structures had failed – or succumbed. I can call on significant fire power from air and sea if there is a purpose. And that’s probably the main reason why Don doesn’t trust me: he knows I have the infrastructure now. All the time he thought the OI might be a target, he was worried – particularly with the defences down. Now he has his alternative disconnect-set put aside, he’s easy. ”
“But, even if it was hit, most of the OI is underground.”
“It’s only just below the surface – and not well protected. It still wouldn’t stand up to what I could throw at it if I had to. Unfortunately – and we’ve done some calculations on this, to be really sure the disconnection was complete – from all power and network lines, without leaving anything behind, we’d have to produce one helluva crater! We’d pretty much wipe out the accommodation floors too. Only The Hole down below would escape: no-one else would survive.”
“So, now that you know the thirty-three nodes in Jenny’s disconnect-set, why don’t you – your Quiet Group – just take them out instead? Blow them up, I guess?”
“Because I simply don’t have that amount of fire-power that I could exercise simultaneously. Obviously, it would have to be a coordinated strike so that we caught everyone by surprise. Some places could be sabotaged from within but most would need external force. I have to consider what can be deployed from where; what can be fired from sea and where the planes would need to be. None of this can be achieved without considerable risk from It and others, of course. I have to consider the fraction of planes and ships that would not survive their interaction both with It and the remaining defences. The time may be past for worrying about individual safety but we still can’t do the impossible. I’ve done the logistics: it’s just too big. Taking out one node fully is a massive operation. Thirty-three simply can’t be done. I think we’d be lucky to manage half that.”
“Seventeen?”
“What about seventeen?”
“If there was a disconnect-set of seventeen nodes.”
“Is there such a set?”
“I think there could be.”
“And would it include the OI?”
“I don’t know; but I’d say it’s pretty likely.”
Jerry stared, thoughtfully, into the distance for a while. Eventually, he answered, in a slow, desperate tone.
“Andy, if anyone was to give me a disconnect-set of seventeen nodes, I would attempt to, ah, … action it.”
“Leave it to me,” Andy replied, as lightly as he could feign.
He immediately turned back towards the Look Out but Jerry clutched at his arm.
“Andy,” he began earnestly. “You do understand what’s going to happen, don’t you? If you can get a seventeen-node disconnect set to me today, I’ll set an operation in motion. There’ll be coordinated strikes across the world at 0930 our time tomorrow morning.” He stared. “But, Andy, no-one here in the OI – apart from those in The Hole – will survive. You and your friends will be making the ultimate sacrifice. If anyone gives me the smaller node set, they’ll be signing their own death warrants.”
Andy grinned; there was iron in it. “Aye, I know. But what about you? Surely, you’ll never get away with it either?”
Jerry’s look was equally determined. “I never said I could get away with it,” he breathed hoarsely. “I merely said I could do it.”
They shook hands grimly and returned inside. The first shaft of sunlight struck the Look Out.
*
Aisha, Jenny and Bob were still in the canteen, drinking too much coffee. They talked of many things, each gloomier than the last. They always returned, however, to the question of where Andy was. On the third or fourth iteration of this cycle, their subject answered them by limping in. Aside from his limited movement, his appearance was horrific: a deathly blackness covered his face. Bob rushed to help; Jenny opened her mouth to protest. But he waved both of them away and sat down.
“We need to talk,” he said.
*
An hour later, they were ready to go their separate ways. Jenny and Bob were to return to the control room and Andy needed to speak to Aisha alone. However, as they were rising from the table, they were interrupted by a man, wearing a doctor’s coat, approaching them. Bob had noticed him enter; he had scanned the room until identifying The Desk, then walked over. He smiled sadly at Andy, as if he knew him, then gently tapped Aisha on the shoulder.
“Dr. Davies?”
She jumped. “Yes.”
“I have been asked, by Mr. Austin, to take you to the medical facility for a re-examination. My name is Tony Stratton.”
“Why?”
Dr. Stratton looked at her uncomfortably, then, imploringly, at the other three. Jenny and Bob were taken aback but Andy’s response was close to violent.
“Bloody Hell, man; do we have to do this? Now? What’s the point?”
“I must insist, sir.”
Aisha was struggling to keep any composure.
“Andy, what is going on?”
“I think someone thinks you may have been, er, …sort of, misdiagnosed.”
Slowly, shaking a little, Aisha stood up.
While Jenny and Bob returned – puzzled by all this – to the OI level, Aisha and Andy followed Tony Stratton to the hospital.
“Why are we doing this?” Andy kept asking.
“What are we doing?” was Aisha’s variant.
Tony seemed reluctant to answer either question in any further detail. When they arrived at the hospital, they found Jerry Austin also waiting for them. There were no formalities.
“Who conducted the original examination?” Tony asked, taking some medical notes from a table and studying them.
“Dr. Barbara,” Jerry replied. They exchanged glances.
“She’s not here this morning,” said Tony.
“Good,” answered Jerry. “Let’s get on with it.”
Tony gently removed the bandages from Aisha’s head, then the pads from her eyes. A pained expression gripped his features as he did so. He shook his head towards Jerry almost immediately. However, he continued to examine her for several minutes, took a sample from one eye and examined it closely, then even more closely under a micro-scanner connected to a computer screen and, finally splitting it into parts and adding chemicals to each – repeating the observation each time. RFS continued to cause havoc even here and he had to reset the display twice. Only after he had completed all of this, did he turn to both Andy and Jerry.
“I don’t think so,” he said quietly.
“What?” demanded Aisha in panic.
Tony took a deep breath. “I’m afraid to say that the damage to both eyes is considerably more serious than has been recorded in these notes. One is damaged beyond all effective repair. The other, with considerable time and treatment, might regain some degree of vision – but not much.” He thought for a moment. “And, I also have to say that, to my knowledge, this is beyond the current technology of bio-implants. I don’t think there’s anything I – or anyone else – can do.”
Aisha collapsed her head into her hands – oblivious to the searing pain – and wept. Tony turned to Andy.
“I’m so sorry to have to be the bearer of such bad news to both of you in the space of so few hours,” he said.
Aisha stopped crying immediately.
“What the hell is he talking about?” she screamed.
Chapter 30: Desk Closed
“Why did you not tell me?” Aisha sobbed. They were back in Andy’s room; it was mid-morning.
“Which bit?” he returned sadly. “That I was worse than you realised – or that you were?”
“Both. Either! I do not know,” she wailed. “Why did you not tell me anything?”
He swallowed hard. “I just didn’t know about you,” he began. “I couldn’t help thinking it looked worse than they were saying but I’ve no medical training so I just kept quiet. Also, I couldn’t see any point in them lying to you so I trusted them.”
“And you?”
“I genuinely didn’t know about me. At first there wasn’t time. Someone mentioned MRSA in Brussels but I didn’t take much notice. Then I realised it was getting worse and I hadn’t had it properly looked at so I went late last night while you were asleep.”
“And what did they say?”
“Well, they weren’t very impressed with the leg, right enough, but they didn’t like the look of the rest of me either. So they ran a lot more tests. Very quickly they were talking about this new MRSA-ZS thing, which I’d only vaguely heard of. Then they gave me a load of drugs and Tony Stratton tried to keep me in but I told him to sod off. I take it you know this ZS variant?”
Aisha nodded. “It is bad,” she said. “It is not as generally contagious as its original: it only spreads through wounds and fluids and those infected can maintain some mobility up to …,” she hesitated, “… the end. But it still passes easily and is often fatal. It hardly responds to anything!”
“I know: they said that.”
“So, what is their prognosis?”
He swallowed again. “Well, I’ll lose the leg for sure,” he said quickly. “If I let them operate, that is. After that, whether or not I pull through at all depends on how badly the internal organs are damaged by the sepsis. Most likely, I’ve another day or two.” He paused, and grasped her hands gently in his own. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter, does it? You know what I’m going to do?”
She nodded, and appeared to suddenly calm. “I suppose you are not planning on leaving here.”
“Aye, that’s right.”
“I guessed. But tell me why.”
“Because it feels like the right thing to do. Partly because I may not live anyway and, if I do, I’ll never be well again. But, really, because, deep down, I’m not comfortable with killing anything – even It. And, of course, many more people will die here, and across the world in the other strikes. And I’ll be responsible for making that happen. It may well be for the greater good but I have to deal with it on a personal level. I can only justify that to myself – to my beliefs – if I pay a price for that: if I make a sacrifice. God will decide if I’ve done the right thing; all I can do is try. It’s my way of being human.”
Her smile lit up her face. Even covered in bandages, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The contrast between how she looked and what she then said chilled him to the bone.
“And I am staying with you.”
He could not speak at all at first. Indignation, rage, sickness, pity, compassion, love; all struggled to overcome him. Tears sprang to his eyes. He choked, gasped for breath and wheezed pitifully. Eventually, he could manage but two words.
“No! Why?”
The smile never faded. “Because everything has changed now,” she began. “We are both not what we were, nor will we be ever in this world. Because my life will never be the same and because yours cannot be. Because I can never be a surgeon again and I will not have you.” He tried to speak but she instinctively laid a hand across his mouth to stop him. “And I also have the guilt of responsibility. Not just what is going to happen here in the OI, but in Parc de Bruxelles too. My arrogance caused many deaths there: I also need to atone for that. And, Andy, do you not realise why they have lied to us here and in Brussels?”
“I hadn’t given it much thought,” he sobbed.
“Because they did not want me to think I had nothing to live for. Our biggest threat to them has always been that we would be prepared to lay down our lives to thwart their plans. But these people do not really understand sacrifice; they are selfish: they live only for the material, and they can see no other life. They felt they needed all of us to be positive – to think there was some purpose. But they cannot imagine that we might do it anyway; and that is our only hope. They have kept Jenny and Bob waiting with their network calculations and they have kept us going with hope. I think only Jerry here has always understood that.” She paused and held his hands once more. “And I think he knew what we would decide to do when we found out. We would save our friends.”
“But you can’t do this, Aisha.” He fought to regain some composure.
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t have the same beliefs as me. I know I’m going to a better place. This isn’t really much of a sacrifice for me. But it’s an incalculable one for you because you don’t think that.”
“But you know I am going to a better place – even if you think I do not. If your faith is really that strong then you know I am wrong. And that is good enough for me,” she smiled again. “I am trusting you: I am coming with you.” She recalled his words as they waited for the ambulance with old Mrs. Harris in London – as she had warned him she would.
“I won’t leave you,” she laughed.
There was very little else to be said but it was a long time before they left the room.
*
Jenny and Bob had returned to the main control room but it was locked. Instead, they found a smaller lab, a few yards a
long the same corridor, where they could talk. Between them, they had but the barest outline of a plan. Jenny needed to find a way – unobserved – of producing the seventeen-node disconnect-set and Bob was working on a sensible reason to ask Don for two further security passes. Between them, they had two but they needed four to give them all any chance of escape. It seemed unlikely, frankly, given what had been said previously, that such a request would be granted but they had to try – and they had to somehow do it without raising suspicion. A final objective, now that The Desk had perhaps fulfilled their role at the OI, was for them all to stay alive long enough to achieve anything! The two of them refused to acknowledge it, each to the other, but it all really looked very implausible indeed.
“The program you wrote to find the thirty-three-node set. I don’t suppose you still have the code itself?” Bob asked Jenny. She shook her head.
“No, I saved it locally on that machine in the lab: they made me. I thought I’d never need it again! And, anyway, all the data’s in there too. I can’t run it anywhere else.” Further silence.
Larry Washington passed the open door. Without thinking, Bob called after him. He returned and looked at them curiously.
“Can I help you guys?”
“I think I may have made a mistake,” Jenny blurted. Larry eyed her even more suspiciously.
“What kind of mistake?” he asked.
“I’m not sure I calculated the disconnect-set correctly. I may have maximised one of the bandwidth constraints instead of minimising. I don’t know for sure. But we understand how important this is and I don’t want to take any chances.”
Larry returned in the direction from which he had come and reappeared, five minutes later, with Scott Lopez. The four of them returned to the control room.
“So what do you need to do?” asked Scott doubtfully.
“I need to change one of the constraints in the program,” Jenny answered. “Then I need to re-run it. Chances are it’ll make no difference but we need to be sure, don’t we?” They both nodded reluctantly.
Jenny sat, once more, directly in front of the main screen; this time, Bob purposefully took the single seat to her left, leaving both Scott and Larry to sit on her right. She began to work with the two of them watching intently.