Apex

by Ramez Naam

  Angel did her best to hide her surprise as they were funneled into the Mall at 17th Street. There was Nexus here already. Lots of Nexus. She’d expected some, but this much…

  Police officers in mirrored glasses tracked her and the rest of C3 as they pushed in with the crowd through the side streets. She smiled her widest entertainer smile, moved juggling clubs up in the air in a jaunty little dance, never letting go of them, wiggling her hips in time.

  I’m just a girl, officer, she thought at the cop. I’m no threat to you.

  No Nexus transmissions until they were out in the middle of the Mall. That was the plan. The entrances were the most likely places for Nexus scanners. And while they had to get within a couple feet of you to detect Nexus in your brain if you were in receive only, they could pick you up from thirty, forty, fifty feet away if you were broadcasting.

  Though, frankly, if they were scanning, they’d be running out there to bust what must be hundreds of people running Nexus on the Mall already.

  Of course, if that were tens of thousands…

  They broke radio silence minutes later.

  …feel all that?

  …hundreds of them…

  …mostly that way…

  …let’s head that way then…

  …think they came dosed, or someone else handing it out here?

  …one way to find out…

  They headed west, on the south side of the Reflecting Pool, towards the Lincoln Memorial, where there seemed to be the greatest concentration of people.

  The concentration of Nexus grew stronger as well. Denser. The minds felt fresh, inexperienced. Some of them disoriented, even, in the rush of a synesthetic blur as Nexus 5 learned them.

  …newbies…

  …dosed here…

  …calibration phase…

  Up ahead it was growing even denser. There was something different, Angel saw. A gap in the protest, then more signs, different signs.

  A counter-protest. Stockton loyalists.

  And that’s where the greatest concentration of Nexus was coming from?

  She pushed her way right up to it, until she was up against the orange plastic fencing that held the anti-Stockton crowd back. Ten feet away, another orange plastic fence held a smaller but equally fervent crowd of Stockton loyalists with their own angry signs back. In the gap were cops, spaced one every few feet, their presence serving to discourage the two groups from attacking each other at least as much as the fence.

  She reached to cut off her Nexus communication, so close to these cops. But before she could, something hit her hard. A wave of emotion. Anger. Violence. Repugnance. Intolerance. She felt it hit Tempest and Cheyenne. Felt them hit with the same urge to shout and yell and bash, to throw themselves across the gap and hurt their foes.

  She reached out with all she could, grabbed hold of them with her thoughts, and threw herself back from the fence, to the ground.

  SOMEONE’S FUCKING WITH OUR MINDS! She sent.

  She heard the sound of yelling, of screams, of a cop ordering people to stay back, of the fence failing, of signs being slammed into people’s bodies.

  LET’S GET THE HELL OUT! Cheyenne sent back.

  There’s a transmitter! Tempest sent. I can find it! I can disable it!

  Then something crashed physically into Angel, and the world went away.

  Breece watched the fight break out with fascination. The anti-Stockton protesters, those with Nexus in their brains – most of them, anyway – threw themselves over the fence, charged past the cops, and slammed themselves into the Stockton loyalists, swinging signs like swords, like clubs.

  The Stockton loyalists, enraged, fought back.

  “That’s enough,” Kate’s voice said into his ear.

  “It’s fascinating,” Breece subvocalized in reply.

  “We said a test, Breece,” Kate said. “Test successful.”

  “Roger that,” Breece subvocalized. He clicked the button in his pocket again. Perhaps a few of the combatants out there looked confused. But more were piling on, throwing themselves into the fight from both sides now, as violence begat more violence.

  He nodded, then turned and walked away.

  Behind him, sirens began to wail as the melee grew.

  Rangan sat alone in the Bunker.

  He’d been here by himself quite a lot. Most nights he was the only one here. The other three had lives elsewhere. They didn’t talk about them, at least not with him. They had apartments or homes or something. Boyfriends or girlfriends. Not full time jobs – not from the amount of time they spent here – but other obligations that sometimes took them away for chunks of time during the day, or occasionally for more than one day at a time.

  They didn’t say. He’d learned quickly not to ask.

  He’d stay here, by himself, scouring the web for news of Kade, or his parents, or hacking on the Mesh code, or playing with Nexus apps, or playing music, messing around with the new DJ apps that existed on top of Nexus, putting together playlists that he could beam straight out from his mind, to the right audio gear or, heck, to anyone running Nexus. He’d let himself dream a little dream that one day he’d be a free man and could do something as trivial and fun as play a set in a club.

  As if.

  Not today.

  You want to make yourself useful? Tempest had asked, before they left for the protest. Check what I told you about the chemreactor hack. I don’t trust it.

  What Tempest had told him – what she’d told them all – was that it was highly improbable. That it was highly suspicious that someone could hack so many models all at once. And she was right.

  The hack that had gone live on November 10th included the private keys to seventeen different models of high end commercial chemreactor. Seventeen different makes and models of devices that could synthesize complex molecules and molecular brews like Nexus, given their component ingredients and the right recipe.

  Those seventeen, Tempest had verified, were the seventeen highest market share models out there. Together they accounted for more than ninety-five percent of all the chemreactors in use.

  Normally those chemreactors were locked down. Censor chips ensured they couldn’t be used to synthesize patented pharmaceuticals, or dangerous explosives, or illegal street drugs.

  But with the private key, you could override all of that.

  A hack that broke one chemreactor model key would be a massive coup. But seventeen at once? Who could do that? Had someone hacked them slowly year over year and stockpiled those hacks?

  Tempest’s suspicion was that the version of Nexus released along with the hack was a fake, with a back door, a vulnerability to exploit. He felt a pang of guilt at that. There were back doors in Nexus – back doors he and Kade had placed there. That Kade must have changed.

  But when he checked and checked and rechecked the version of Nexus released with this hack… it was identical to what was in the public depots a few days back.

  The recipe for synthesis was identical.

  The source code was identical.

  The compiled binaries were identical.

  There was even the option to download the latest version from any of the most popular repositories and install that instead.

  Whoever was doing this just seemed to want more Nexus out there, period.

  Rangan was pondering this when the door to the Bunker slammed open.

  He practically jumped out of his chair.

  Cheyenne and Tempest came in, supporting Angel between them, gear bags slung over their backs.

  He stepped forward, “Angel? You OK?”

  She looked up at him. “No,” she said, a bit groggily, her arms still wrapped around her friends. “I’m pissed.”

  “Somebody got there with Nexus before us,” Cheyenne said.

  “And they’re a total asshole,” Tempest finished.

  Breece stayed silent as Kate railed at him.

  “That was a test?” She yelled. “It turned them into animals! I tho
ught we were talking about a little encouragement! A little nudge! That was about revolution, alright, but it wasn’t about moving humanity forward!” She was livid. He’d seen her this angry before, but seldom at him. “Those protesters are on our side fighting for the same thing we’re fighting for!” She looked around the table at Breece and the Nigerian. “And we just helped someone violate them.”

  Breece waited a moment to make sure she was done, then he held up his hands palms open.

  “OK, I hear you, Kate. It was a test.”

  “And you want to move forward!”

  “I want to be ready, in case the Supreme Court rejects the case, or rules for Stockton.”

  The Nigerian nodded at that.

  “No,” Kate said. “If the court rules for Stockton, or if Kim wins, and he’s on the wrong side after all, then I’m all for direct action, but only against enemies of the cause.”

  She stopped, took a deep breath, visibly calmed herself, brought her hands together in front of her on the table, looked at the Nigerian and then again at Breece.

  “I will put bullets between the eyes of any who deny humans freedom over our own minds and bodies,” Kate said. “I will set bombs beneath their buildings. I will burn down the homes of any who try to limit our rights or use force against us.”

  She took another breath.

  Breece opened his mouth to speak, to say something calming.

  She raised a hand, cut him off.

  “What I won’t do,” Kate said, her eyes locked with his, “is use force, or coercion, against people who are fundamentally on our side. Who are the same as us.”

  The Nigerian went frosty at that. “They’re not the same as us. They’re sheep, most of them, letting it happen to them. We’re wolves, taking the risks, taking on the fight that they won’t.”

  Breece raised his hand to forestall his friend, to stop him from triggering Kate further.

  Kate sliced her hand through the air in frustration. “Don’t start with that fucking separatist sheep and wolves bullshit with me, Akindele!”

  “You may not call me that name.” The Nigerian started to stand.

  “Whoa, whoa!” Breece held out both hands, placatingly. “Easy, both of you.”

  Kate turned to him. “Cancel the op.”

  The Nigerian sat back into his chair. “You’re turning soft, Catherine,” he said. “Like I’ve never seen you before.”

  Breece looked at his friend. “Shut it for a minute, OK?”

  He turned back to Kate. She was still staring at him.

  “This separatist bullshit isn’t right,” She said. “Everyone has the potential to upgrade. We’ve been arguing it for years. But we’ve never attacked people on our side.”

  Breece sucked in a deep breath, let it out again. “It’s not an attack,” he said. “It’s an encouragement. We’re pushing them to fight for their rights.”

  Kate scowled.

  Breece went on. “Kate, if you want to sit this one out… No problem at all. You’ve done plenty for the cause. You’ve more than earned a break.”

  Kate‘s frown deepened. “I don’t want to sit this out. We cancel the op. Let the protesters go their own way. You saw what we did out there. Those people lost their minds. That’s offensive action, and that’s for use against our enemies.”

  Breece shook his head silently.

  Kate leaned back. “What happened to unanimity for ops?”

  Breece looked down at the surface of the table. “This is our chance.” He looked back up at Kate. “I know it rankles. I wish we didn’t need it. But it’s a little nudge. It’s temporary. It gets them fighting for their rights, the way they should be. And that little, temporary nudge drives a huge positive change, that expands their freedoms, that benefits them and millions of other people. Maybe hundreds of millions.” He paused for breath. He’d been raising his voice he realized. Kate was looking at him. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. God what he’d give for some Nexus in their brains right now. “Kate,” he went on, his voice calm now. “You’re right. This might be grey. But there’s so much upside. I’m willing to cross a few lines to do that much good. We won’t get a shot like this again anytime soon.”

  “Breece…” Kate said, her voice low and steady. “Don’t do this. Don’t change like this.”

  “Nothing’s changing,” he leaned towards her, reaching out one hand across the table for hers, trying to touch her, trying to make her see. “We’re so close to what we’ve wanted…”

  “I thought we wanted to lift people up,” she said. She didn’t take his hand. “You can’t do that by betraying your allies. Cancel the op.”

  Breece stared into her eyes, beseeching.

  “I can’t, Kate. The opportunity’s too big.”

  “Damn it,” she cursed.

  Kate jerked up out of her seat.

  Breece pulled back in alarm, his chest pounding.

  She strode out of the kitchen, not looking back.

  “Kate!” he yelled.

  She disappeared from sight. He heard her go into the room they shared, heard footsteps, heard the front door open. Then heard it slam shut.

  Across the table, the Nigerian breathed hard, his hands clenching and unclenching.

  39

  Progress

  Monday 2040.11.18

  Kade met his new team on Monday, in Bangalore. The Indian government had moved Kade, Feng, Sam, and the children over the weekend, from surprisingly calm Delhi to chaotically raucous Bangalore. Ananda and a group of five monks, done with the summit, had been allowed to come with them. After five hours of flying, it had taken three hours on the roads in an armored bus, flanked by police, to make their way through a traffic melee of cars, scooters, rickshaws, mobile restaurants, and suicidally brave pedestrians. At one point a twelve foot tall animatronic Hindu god on wheels passed them, and turned its head to stare at Kade with its third eye set in its blue-skinned god-droid head.

  Kade stared back.

  The eye blinked.

  The children loved it, their minds taking in everything, shooting observations to each other thick and fast, faster than Kade could follow, giggling, laughing, drawing insights and recognizing patterns he never would have noticed.

  Now, at last, they were in an oasis of calm, a wide, green, secure research campus run by some secretive sub-ministry of the Indian Ministry of Science and Technology, walled off from the rest of Bangalore, with housing in a cluster of colonial-era homes surrounded by palm trees.

  And it was time for Kade to go to work.

  Lakshmi Dabir gave him a tour of the campus, sketching out what happened in various buildings, though she seemed rather evasive on one or two. Then she led him to the building where he’d be working, a hypermodern glass and carbon structure set among the lush trees, and he met the men and women he’d be working with.

  The names came thick and fast. Srini, Gopal, Pratibha, Rohit, Amit, Ashanti, Girish, Deepak, the other Amit, the other Rohit, and Anusha.

  And those were just the team leads.

  The overall project was under the direction of Lakshmi Dabir herself.

  Kade’s job, as she explained it to the team leads, was to be a technical advisor. Which was as poorly defined a role as he’d ever heard.

  Kade smiled at these men and women around him as Dabir talked. The coders had all built more software than he had. The neuroscientists had years more experience than he did. There were nanoscientists and biomaterial specialists and medical ethicists and educational neuropsychologists. They were all running Nexus. Everyone was putting up a front of polite enthusiasm. Beneath that he felt a whole range – from resentment, to curiosity, to outright awe.

  Well, this’ll be interesting, he thought.

  Kade kept smiling, kept trying to project humility and a desire to learn.

  When in doubt, someone had told him, try to add value.

  The next several hours were an awesome blur of technical achievements that dispelled any doubt in Kade
’s mind.

  This was a rock star team.

  They gave him a tour of the work they’d done over the last few months. Their idea of a tour was linking up via Nexus to the experts in the area, and plunging him right into demos and direct neural assimilation of their project plans, architectures, experimental results, and code structures.

  There was too much. Waaaaay too much. It was like drinking from a fire hose. If the hose was the diameter of the moon.

  Kade fucking loved it.

  Pri 1 was education. They had plenty of other goals down the road: use Nexus to boost productivity in engineering and the sciences, to help in mental health, and so on. But from the PM down the message was clear: their job was to make India’s students – child and adult, able to learn faster.

  And they were building a heck of a platform. On the research side they’d coded tools for analyzing communication, learning, and retention. They were building adaptive systems that used Nexus to see right away when a lesson wasn’t getting through, or wasn’t going to be retained, diagnose why, or just repeat it. They had libraries of mental lessons, curated first-hand memories that kids could absorb, live through. And for the coders themselves they were beefing up the developer tools – better environments, better debuggers, virtual whiteboards and shared coding spaces.

  Awesome. It was all so awesome. Kade asked question after question, kept telling people how cool their work was.

  Eventually they seemed to get that he wasn’t just faking it, that he was genuinely excited.

  The excitement was echoed back.

  Security was another major prong. hunting down security bugs, looking for ways malicious code could enter and exploit Nexus to spy on or control an unwitting person. They’d already found and fixed quite a few vulnerabilities, and checked their fixes back into the major code repositories around the net. They had ambitious plans here to build more provably secure sandbox layers and simpler models to prevent users from accidentally giving away too much control.