by Scott Bly
Charlie peered out the hole. Metal shards all around could slice them to bits. He would not leave this puppy. How was he going to climb eight feet down?
He leaned out. I can do this. He held the puppy in one arm and stretched the other out to the elevator frame — just beyond his grasp. He wriggled a little farther, brushing it with his fingertips. A little farther and …
Screeech! The car heaved. Charlie tumbled out the open doors. He caught himself but almost dropped the puppy. Another shudder and he would lose his grip.
“I told you to leave the dog!” Geneva shouted. “You trying to get us killed?”
“The dog comes, or I don’t come!”
“Then grab my hand!” Geneva yelled. “I’ll swing you to the ledge! But if you drop the dog, it’s your own fault!”
He took her outstretched hand and felt her strength and the strange, sticky sensation of her nano-skin clinging to his flesh.
“Let go when I tell you!”
He swayed back and forth.
“Now!”
Charlie leaped to the ledge. He landed on the edge and tumbled in, the puppy tucked under his arm.
Charlie and Geneva ran to the fire escape and sprinted down eleven floors.
The TerraThinc fire alarm had drawn a crowd. Foxx was big news these days. Reporters buzzed around the evacuating building as Geneva, Charlie, and the puppy quietly slipped through the crowd.
Gramercy Foxx and John McCallum looked down the shaft. Gargan lay on the buckled floor, one leg still tangled in the wreckage of the ceiling.
“Repairing Gargan will be costly,” Foxx growled. “Leave me.”
McCallum went to see his men off to the hospital. Of the six who encountered Gargan, two were in critical condition. One would never walk again.
John had served his country in the military. Private security simply wasn’t the same. Today he had second thoughts about his current employer — he had obeyed an order, and his men had suffered needlessly. That had happened once before. During the war. The consequences had been dire. His conscience would feel better drowned by several shots of Mr. Daniel’s finest. Days like today made him miss the stuff he’d sworn off the day he left the service.
* * *
Foxx waited for McCallum to go.
Gargan’s injuries were severe. Foxx would not spare Hum energy to help him. He didn’t like healing anyway. My sister was always better at the gentler arts, he thought jealously. But everything came so easily for her.
The day’s events revealed lapses in security that would be corrected. Gargan’s field test fell flat, but McCallum had proven effective. The real question in Foxx’s mind was about Geneva. What was she up to? I made her! he thought with a flash of rage. But in programming her genius, did I accidentally transfer some part of myself, my own memories? Details of home? Of my family? My sister? Geneva knew too much. And the boy. Who was he?
Right now he needed damage control. He would add Jane Virtue to that team immediately. The Future, after all, was only one week away.
“Jane Virtue, live with Gramercy Foxx in the wake of the most shocking terrorist attack in LAanges since Chancellor’s Day four years ago.” She spoke with perfect newswoman diction. Foxx sat behind her on an ambulance gurney, a bandage on his forehead. “Mr. Foxx, the chief of police says the terrorists attacked your private security force. Were you attacked?”
“No, no — not compared to my men. Security kept me safe.” Foxx offered a tired smile, touching his fake bandage.
“We’re grateful for that. What was the motive?”
“It’s obvious! We’re seven days away from the single greatest social and technological advance of our time. Many people and organizations profit from war and conflict. The Future is a threat to them. It brings unity to all of us.”
Foxx lied with practiced ease. Only he and McCallum knew the truth. The security men in the hospital had been given partial memory wipes.
“Perhaps you can share more details about The Future with the public,” Jane suggested. “How does it threaten these warmongers and profiteers?”
“Jane, I don’t want to reveal more than I have. Terrorists detonated a bomb today. Fortunately, new buildings like ours are built to withstand attacks.”
“Mr. Foxx, thank you for your time. I’m Jane Virtue, live from downtown LAanges. Remember, ladies and gentlemen, The Future … is just one week away.”
“Hey, stop laughing at my vest. This thing is keeping us safe, Charlie!” Geneva smiled in spite of herself. Any shirt made of aluminum foil would look ridiculous. “It stops them from being able to pick up my signal.”
“Right. Because of the particle accelerator in your chest. For smashing.”
“Smashing atoms. Protons race down my arms at close to the speed of light, meet at my fingertips and smash so ferociously that for a split second they create a miniature black hole.”
“A quantum singularity of nearly infinite density and energy, where gravity becomes so strong that not even light can escape across the event horizon.”
“I can’t believe you remember this stuff,” Geneva said with a laugh. “But in that instant, I can actually grab the event horizon, and control it. That’s how I open a portal.”
“Time travel.”
“Yeah, or space. Anyway, we were discussing math, remember?”
“Fine.” Charlie rolled his eyes. “Nobody can even do math where I come from. I’m the best kid around, but it doesn’t matter, because nobody cares.”
“Math made it possible to smash atoms, but math isn’t the point. Remember, it’s just a language. The only language the computer speaks is ones and zeroes …”
“Because of the transistors, right?” Charlie interjected. “The computer chips are made of them — little switches that are either open or closed. One and zero.”
“Yep. So computers are constantly translating from binary to decimal, hexadecimal to English.”
“I understood that the first sixteen times you explained it.”
“Hexadecimal. Sixteen. Cute. So you’re learning what you need to know. Good. Then check this out.” She spun a computer around. “The Code Analyzer processed these slices of the software I got from the archives at Foxx’s lab — what he used to program some of those animals.”
“That code is different. I haven’t seen one like that.”
“One column is from a lizard, the other from a mouse. There’s a pattern to the information! We can start tracing the similarities between code versions to identify what Foxx has been doing! We can follow the logic trail!”
Charlie understood more and more. Sometimes it astonished her.
On his part, Charlie wondered if technology really was a change for the better. Charlie hadn’t once noticed the moon or stars since he’d left home. No wonder the Hum had been forgotten here.
Jane Virtue sipped tea at an informal coffee table as she finished her interview of Janice Wong. They chatted about the most popular subject in the world: The Future. “Your corporation is contributing … what to The Future, exactly?”
She knew Wong would dodge the question — none of the eleven execs on the list had revealed what The Future was. “I only handle data distribution,” Wong said, “but I promise The Future will be impressive.”
“Is our global technology capable of handling this?” Jane asked.
“Network connections and power grids are getting upgrades now. The Future will have the smoothest rollout of any web system in history.”
“Thank you so much,” Jane said, turning to the cameras. “That was Janice Wong on The Future and InterNext. Remember, The Future … is just six days away.”
All twelve cameras blinked off. Jane was relieved. She thought the HoloStreams made her look fat.
“Jane, I’m a big fan,” Wong said. “I can see why Gramercy chose you.”
“Thank you,” Jane said, genuinely touched. Fame wasn’t coming easily. She had gone from invisible to the home page almost overnight.
&n
bsp; Jane had interviewed Janice Wong two years earlier. Wong didn’t remember her. But Jane had noticed something different. A spark was missing. CEO pressure?
She checked her VidCel for schedule and document updates.
Good. Gramercy at five o’clock. The Future was looking bright.
Charlie held the sleeping puppy in his arms. She was a girl, and he was utterly charmed.
She didn’t seem programmed. He felt for more electronic components under her skin, but all he found were the same two small chips on the back of her neck.
“What do you think Foxx was programming her to do?” he wondered aloud.
Geneva stopped poring over the computer codes and nodded thoughtfully.
“Hook her up,” she said.
“No wires. Just two little chips.”
“Wireless? Then this must be a job for Robot Girl.” Geneva grinned. She held a hand over the puppy and closed her eyes. “Ah, yeah. Wrap these wires around her to pick up the signal, and hook her up to the Code Analyzer. Got it?”
Charlie went to work, and Geneva watched, transfixed. The warmth Charlie was feeling was the pulse of the dog’s internal radio, which Geneva could read with her own internal radios. How could Charlie sense their ebb and flow?
When the analyzer beeped “all finished,” Charlie disconnected the puppy and started playing with her. “What do you think we’ll find?”
“The codes from all the lab animals are similar. But each animal’s code seems to be a revision of a previous animal, with an added function.”
“So what do the codes do?” Charlie asked.
“Different commands. Let’s try an electronic command to put her to sleep.” Sure enough, the puppy closed her eyes. “I want to see her rev number to get an idea of her capabilities.”
“And yours,” Charlie added, immediately regretting it.
Geneva fell silent.
She is dead wrong that robots don’t have feelings! But as one of Foxx’s robots, she would have a rev number, too.
“I’m sorry, Geneva.”
“No, Charlie.” Her voice was heavy. “You’re right. It’s just that I feel like I’m more than a bunch of circuit boards and wires.”
“You are more,” he said. “How many robots have friends and HoloChats?”
“Probably none. Just like me. Have you noticed any of my buddies dropping by to hang out?”
Charlie felt even worse. “OK, let’s move on,” he said. Focus on the task at hand. “What does the machine do to the puppy?”
“The analyzer runs a full diagnostic on her chips and software. Now I’m ready for mine.” Geneva pulled up her ponytail.
Charlie shrank back, but he tried not to show it. Seeing a data jack embedded in her flesh was shocking.
“Are you sure about this?”
She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Yeah, I’m sure. This is how we follow Foxx’s trail. Logic, remember?”
“And when we read your code, and the puppy’s code, we’ll have a better idea of where Foxx is going with his programming of living things — ending in humans, with The Future, right?”
She nodded. “Six days, Charlie. Speed it up back there.”
Charlie connected her to the analyzer. Her hands gripped the chair.
“I’ll see you when I wake up.” She closed her eyes.
Charlie hooked up the last wire. The analyzer fired away, pumping data into the computer. This time he didn’t watch the screen.
Instead, he picked up the puppy and held her in his lap. “You need a name,” he said, tickling her tummy. “I’m making up a brand-new word, just for you. Something nice. Calla. No, Callaway. No, Callasee. No, Callaya.” She wagged her tail. “You like that one? Callaya?” She licked his hand. “Then that’s your name. It’s a secret name, Callaya,” he whispered. “Just between you and me. OK?”
The puppy — Callaya — jumped happily, almost as if she understood. Did she?
“Right away, sir,” McCallum’s voice echoed from the black box on Foxx’s desk.
On a massive screen across the room, Jane Virtue spoke with James Cricket, the CEO of Global Oil. She ran an excellent show. Ratings were record breaking.
“Mr. Cricket, will there be costs associated with The Future?”
“Eventually. You know, one of the remarkable things about Gramercy Foxx is his conviction. He believes so strongly in The Future that the first two months will be completely free of charge.”
“But there are those who ask what Foxx is getting in return?”
“Most people agree that free is free,” Cricket replied with a laugh.
No one listened to conspiracy theorists. Who would believe there was an effort to control every mind in the world? The louder they shouted, the more Foxx ridiculed them. Control the message, control their minds. The Future is the next logical step.
“Do you mind if we take a call from a viewer?” A VidFon rose between them.
“Of course not.” Cricket smiled. Foxx loved this part. Live viewers flooded the lines for a chance to ask inane questions while Foxx charged them by the minute.
“We have Tommy on the line,” Jane said, a video image of a little boy on the VidFon. “Tommy is nine, from Great Falls.”
“Hello, Tommy,” Cricket said warmly.
“Hello, Mr. Cricket.” Tommy was nervous.
“Tommy, do you have a question about The Future?” Jane asked.
“My friend said that —” He was interrupted by background voices. “Is The Future a rocket ship to Mars? I think he’s wrong.”
Cricket let out a Santa Claus guffaw. “I’m not supposed to reveal details about The Future, but I can pretty safely tell you it’s not a rocket ship to Mars.”
“Thank you for calling, Tommy,” Jane added.
The intercom on Foxx’s desk blinked. “Yes, Evelyn, send him in.”
John McCallum entered, removing his hat. “Sir.” He nodded respectfully.
“What do you think of Jane Virtue?” Foxx asked.
“The men in the squad trust her,” McCallum said. “That’s a good sign.”
Foxx nodded thoughtfully. “Your men in the hospital?”
“In recovery, sir.” McCallum swallowed. “Postlewhite is out of the ICU. He appears stable. That could change, but the doctors are hopeful. I’m headed to the hospital shortly.”
Foxx knew McCallum’s true loyalty lay with his men. A good soldier’s always did. He needed to change that. He had used a very subtle touch of his Hum influence on Jane Virtue. He would use the same on McCallum.
“I want to find Geneva,” Foxx said with the singsong lilt of the Hum. “And the boy.”
“We’re on it, sir,” McCallum said crisply.
“They took something very precious to me when they escaped.”
“What sir?”
“One of the animals from the lab. We have a … connection of sorts. I have made contact with it.”
“How? We’ve monitored all communications in and out of the building.”
“It’s not electronic, John. It’s more like a psychic connection. I’ll need you to stay here. Forget the hospital.” Foxx studied McCallum’s face for a reaction.
“What are your orders, sir?”
Foxx was pleased. He saw nothing that indicated his Hum suggestion had failed. McCallum would be even more agreeable now.
“Ready the Bird of Stealth. We’re going hunting.”
Early-morning sun woke Charlie up. “Callaya,” he whispered. The puppy immediately looked at him. Does she already know her name? “Callaya, come.” She did. This is one smart dog.
Geneva’s voice startled him. “I double-checked and triple-checked, and I still don’t understand it. The puppy is a more recent rev than I am. Can you believe that? After all I can do, she just has two little chips. Why bother?”
“Maybe he wanted a pet.”
“Yeah right,” Geneva snorted. “Newer code should be an improvement.”
“Maybe he wanted a really smart
pet?”
“Stop kidding around. If the puppy is a more recent rev than me,” Geneva said, her voice dropping to a whisper, “then what can she do?”
“Take us lower,” Gramercy Foxx said in an unnervingly quiet voice.
Most helicopters required heavy headphones and a special microphone just to hear over the noise. But Foxx’s stealth helicopter made barely a whisper.
McCallum took the Bird of Stealth 9000 closer to the high-rise buildings.
“A helmet interferes with the mind-spirit connection,” Foxx had said. So he sat without a helmet in the copilot’s seat, eyes closed, legs crossed like a yogi.
Must help with the mind-spirit connection, McCallum thought with a snicker. The increasing hocus-pocus made everything worse.
“John, you must abandon your disbelief,” Foxx said out of the blue. He turned his hands slightly in the air as if he were adjusting an antenna.
Is he reading my mind? McCallum didn’t laugh after that.
Passing through five hundred feet of altitude, McCallum flew in tightening circles. Hunting, Foxx had called it. Hunting a little boy and girl.
* * *
“The puppy’s code doesn’t make sense, Charlie. It’s gobbledygook that goes nowhere. Foxx is brilliant, but I don’t get how he could do something so bizarre.”
“Maybe it’s Hum code. You wouldn’t understand that, right?”
“Hum code? That’s not even a programming language.”
“So what would you do if this was just regular code you didn’t understand?”
“I’d start by isolating it, figure out base assumptions. Then I’d feed it varying input to see what comes out. It’s called reverse engineering.”
“Let’s try that.” And we should look at your code more closely, too, he wanted to add, although you clearly don’t want to, or you would have already.
“OK. Hook her back up.”