“Until now. At least in theory.”
“Right. The more I think about this, the more I appreciate just how big it is. The advantage to our clients of having this technology in their heads long before it is available to anyone else is immense. And I’ll be the first one to line up. Can you imagine? Internet access at the speed and convenience of thought.”
“Knowledge is power, yes. But how much of an advantage will BrainWeb really provide?”
“Far more than you might think at first blush. Especially if you’re the only one around you who has it. You’d be directly tied into limitless knowledge. Communication between two people who both had the implants would be effortless and undetectable. The stealth factor would be off the charts. Not just communication, but a user can be directing all kinds of resources without anyone knowing.” Victor’s face lit up in delight as he pondered the possibilities. “And all of this is just icing on the cake.”
“What do you consider the cake?”
“I haven’t paid all that much attention, but I have caught bits and pieces of some of the debates on the use of the technology. And the violation of privacy concern seems to be the most troubling to people.”
“Meaning it will be the biggest advantage to our kind of people,” said Alvarez.
“Yes. Perfect memory. And the ability to instantly convert whatever the user sees and hears into digital video and then save it. What will our clients give for that?”
Alvarez considered this for several long seconds. “I see why you classified this as have-to-have,” he said finally.
“And I think we’re only scratching the surface. I’m guessing it’s much more useful than we can even imagine right now. For every advantage we can think of, I suspect we’ll find three others we didn’t fully appreciate until we have the technology in our heads. For the truly tech-savvy the speed and fluidity of interacting with computers in this way would be truly amazing.”
“Okay, but the vast majority of our clients are Muslims,” pointed out Alvarez.
Victor nodded slowly. It was an excellent observation. Most of their clients tended to be Islamists. Which made sense, since the vast majority of armed conflicts and hot spots in the world involved people of this faith, bastardized though their interpretation of the religion may have been.
The jihadists were not fans of modern technology, and largely wished to live as they had many hundreds of years before. But they would make use of technology to achieve their ends, as ISIS continued to demonstrate with a remarkably effective Facebook and Twitter campaign. Even technology that was directly contrary to their beliefs.
But Alvarez’s point was still worth raising, since BrainWeb implants took technology to a new level of invasiveness, a new level of blasphemy.
“I’ve worked with these people for years,” said Victor after he had thought this through. “As far as I can tell, jihadists are more than willing to stray from the confines of their religious doctrine to further their goal of caliphate. They can even ignore their religion completely to deceive others and they believe Allah will forgive them. As long as they’re doing what they’re doing in his service. Some won’t be willing to go as far as to install BrainWeb, true. But I’m certain that most will.”
Alvarez nodded. “Will it work in languages other than English?” he asked.
“Great question. I’ll explore this further, but from what I understand, yes. This is a big step forward over the prototypes, courtesy of the genius of Alex Altschuler. He programmed in an AI unit that makes use of translation programs, using English as a base, of course. Even so, a user would have to teach it his or her language. Look at a door and think door. That sort of thing. But the program learns very fast, and the expectation is after a week or two, or about fifty hours of training, it will catch on, getting better and better every day. It learns fast. You just have to correct it when it makes an error.”
Victor tilted his head in thought. He already knew how he was going to proceed, but he was giving his friend more and more responsibility and was interested to see if he would come to the same conclusions. “So what are your recommendations going forward, Eduardo?” he asked.
Alvarez met his eyes with a thoughtful expression but was in no hurry to respond. They had worked together for many years now and he was well aware that Victor hated answers that were not well thought out and logical. He preferred a good answer to a quick one.
“We can’t afford not to pursue this,” he said after almost a minute had passed. “But we still can’t be sure it isn’t a trap. So we need to send in the third string. So removed from us that if they spilled everything they know it wouldn’t cause a single problem for us. Expendables. If this is on the level, we get what we want. If not, they fall into the trap and we walk away.”
Victor’s grin spread across his entire face. “Outstanding,” he said. “That’s just what we’ll do. Let’s plan and implement this as soon as we can.”
27
Megan lay on her bed, which was annoyingly comfortable, and closed her eyes, running through possibilities for at least the tenth time since she had arrived a week earlier. She didn’t expect to come up with any answers she had missed the first nine times, but what did she have to lose? She had thought being marooned on the Eos had been boring, but her current situation took boring to an entirely new level. Now there were no trips to tourist or shopping locations, and most importantly, no Nick.
Megan had first been taken to a house in Chino, as she had been told, but this had simply been a staging area. Once inside they had received further instructions, changed vehicles, and forced her to eat several tranquilizers that had knocked her out cold for an indeterminate length of time.
She had awakened in a large two-story house, four or five thousand square feet by her estimation, in the middle of a desert. The house had smooth stucco siding, arches around the entryway and windows, and a roof made from solar panels incorporating a recent breakthrough that allowed the home to be entirely self-sufficient, without need of hooking up to an electric company. Given the massive power requirements of the two large air-conditioning units that kept the inhabitants from roasting alive, this was the only way the house could be this secluded, since power lines were nowhere to be seen. A wide gravel road that cut through the desert and its sporadic covering of sagebrush and cactus connected the house to civilization somewhere past the horizon.
For perhaps the fourth time she replayed the conversation she had had upon first awakening with the man who had abducted her, Boyd Solomon. While this was his actual name, he had obviously lied about working with Justin Girdler. He had first brought her to the kitchen where he had prepared orange juice, bottled water, and a four-egg, three-cheese omelet, knowing that she would awaken with an appetite.
She had taken a forkful of the omelet and decided she was starving, and that whatever one might say about the man, he was a competent chef.
“Are you going to tell me what this is all about now?” she asked.
“I would think it would be obvious.”
“You’re using me to get control of . . . my friend.”
“Yes. Nick Hall. The mind reader. I lied earlier when I said I didn’t know who he was.”
“And you have him?”
“We do. Once we had you, he was as tame as a lamb. You obviously mean a great deal to him.”
“Where is he, and what are you having him do?”
“Right now he’s unconscious in an RV, heading to his destination. I won’t tell you what he’ll be doing.”
“Who do you work for?”
“I’m afraid I won’t be telling you his name, either. I’m the only one who knows who he is. When you’re dealing with a mind reader you need to limit information. Since Hall will never be within a thousand miles of here, I don’t have to worry about him finding out.”
She took a few more bites of omelet and washed it down with the last of her orange juice as she considered what he had said. “And where are we?” she said, gest
uring to a window with closed blinds, blocking the relentless sun.
“Once you get a peek outside you’ll see that we’re in a desert. We’re the only structure within three miles of here.”
Megan took this in but didn’t respond.
“Olinda and Bergum are here as well. And a man named Angel Sanchez. We’re being extremely well paid to act as babysitters, possibly for months or even years. Escape is impossible. The doors are locked from the inside and can only be opened after entering the proper code into a touchpad. The windows are unbreakable.”
Megan rolled her eyes. “Really? Don’t you think this is overkill? Four of you? Against a hundred-and-twenty-pound girl?”
“My boss is very careful. And you’re the key. You’re a lot more secure than your boyfriend. Hell, we could leave him unwatched and he wouldn’t try to escape. Not when we have you. But if you escaped, my boss is convinced he’d stop cooperating and find a way to escape no matter what we did.”
“So I’m basically a prisoner with an indefinite sentence.”
“Not a prisoner. A guest. I’m a very hard man, not above the harshest of tortures. But I’ve been instructed to treat you like a Disney princess. If a pea under your mattress is interfering with your beauty sleep, I’ll see it’s removed. I’ll provide any food or entertainment you would like, except a phone or Internet. We have an exercise room, and we can escort you outside a few times a day, or better yet, night, when it’s cooler, to get some fresh air.”
He paused. “And just so you know, by the way, if you somehow managed to escape during one of these outings, you wouldn’t get far. As I said, there is nothing around for miles. Nowhere to run. No place to hide. So save your effort and we’ll all be better off.”
“And I assume you’ll want me to talk to Nick periodically and tell him how well I’m being treated?”
“Yes.” Solomon managed an insincere smile. “More orange juice?”
Megan nodded. As bad as it was, it could have been worse. If you had to be a prisoner, being treated like a queen was better than the alternatives.
“The man who built this house twenty years ago was very wealthy,” said Solomon, “and very private. It used to be hooked up to both electric and phone lines, but only the phone lines survived. But since we have a land-line we can make the connection very secure. So no need to worry about any eavesdroppers when you tell Nick how well you’re doing. And how unharmed you are.”
“Thanks. That’s very comforting,” said Megan wryly.
She finished the omelet and stared intently at Solomon. “But you never answered my initial question. Where are we?”
“We’re in a desert in the Southwestern United States.”
“Wow, that really narrows it down. To about a billion square miles. Most of California, Arizona, Utah, and Nevada is desert. I mean where are we, exactly?”
“That’s something we’ve been instructed not to say.”
“Why not?” demanded Megan in disbelief. “Why would this matter? I’m not asking for the mailing address. Just curious what city we’re near.”
“Personally, I don’t think it would matter. But my boss feels differently. As I said, he’s a very careful man.”
“Is he worried that I’ll tell Nick during one of our calls?”
Solomon didn’t respond.
“Because so what? Say I tell him I’m in the Nevada desert near Reno. He’s thousands of miles away under guard. And even if he escaped, the Reno area is large enough that he’d never find us.”
Solomon shrugged. “My boss thinks this Nick is some kind of wizard. He can’t see how this information could possibly help him, but he’d rather err on the side of caution.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Megan.
“If it’s so ridiculous, why are you so eager to find out?”
“If I’m going to be prisoner for months or years, I should at least know where I am.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to disappointment.”
***
Megan finished focusing on her remembered first conversation with Solomon and replayed other conversations she had had with each of her four jailors during the past week. She then considered everything she had managed to learn about the security setup and possible strategies for defeating it.
This took painfully little time. Because she had nothing.
There had to be a way out of this. But for the life of her she couldn’t see it. She had considered a number of possibilities but had ruled them all out. Faking a sickness. Lying during her calls with Nick and saying she was being mistreated. Threatening Solomon that she would say he had raped her, getting him in trouble with his boss, unless he helped her. Telling them she was allergic and had to be moved. Sure, allergic to what? Sand?
The despair and the boredom were crushing. And while Nick sounded okay during their calls, and was obviously being as well treated as she was—as long as he danced to their music—she was already beginning to lose hope.
She had to find a way to escape. It was the only way to free Nick up to turn the tables.
But she also had to face the fact that there might come a time, after all hope was truly gone, when she might have to take her own life, removing this weight from around Nick’s neck.
Megan Emerson choked back tears, shut her eyes even tighter, and began imagining ways to escape once again, no matter how unlikely.
28
Alex Altschuler soaked in the four-person Jacuzzi in his master bathroom and moved to the left so a powerful jet would hit the small of his back.
“Ahhhh,” he purred. “That’s the ticket,” he continued aloud to no one but himself, turning off his brain for the first time all day.
This lasted less than a minute. Other than during sex, he found that his mind had a mind of its own, and refused to holster its world-class firepower. His mind would not be quieted, even if his thoughts weren’t on lofty mathematics or science, but only on reflections of where he was in his life.
So much had changed in so little time.
He was now living with a woman he loved, and while they had yet to formally tie the knot, they made decisions and shared their lives as though they were already married.
The bathroom he was in was larger than his bedroom had been less than a year before. And he had lived in an affluent neighborhood even then.
But he continued to feel like an imposter. Super wealth didn’t quite seem to fit him. He had heard stories about the founder of Walmart driving a pickup truck, even after he was worth billions. Some took this as a sign that he was the stingiest man on earth, but Altschuler admired him for it. The man had not let wealth make him something he was not, and Altschuler was determined to follow suit. And Heather felt exactly the same way.
The best thing about the mansion was that it was just outside of Fresno, and closer to Theia’s offices, which were undergoing a dramatic expansion, than his old house had been. Still, he had only purchased the estate, and he and Heather had only relocated there, at General Girdler’s insistence, for security purposes. A high-tech touch-sensitive and motion-sensitive fence walled in the extensive grounds, on which numerous bodyguards could be stationed without interfering too much with their privacy, and which served as a buffer zone that any crazed attacker would have to get through to reach the house.
But their home was too majestic, inside and out. Beautiful, but lacking warmth and approachability.
A house should look and feel like it was built to be lived in, not just admired. It was the difference between a thousand-dollar silk tie that constricted your neck or a loose fitting T-shirt that was the essence of comfort.
Altschuler sighed and repositioned himself yet again so that several jets would hit his shoulder blades.
And he had never wanted to be a CEO, either. He was a geek, not a charismatic leader. He felt much more comfortable around a computer, or doing leading edge science, than around people.
It was true that he had come an enormous distanc
e in only six months. From a shy genius nerd with little self-confidence in social settings to someone who felt comfortable, and who was fairly articulate, when interviewed almost weekly by the likes of ABC, 60 Minutes, or cable business channels.
Even so, the job of a CEO tended to involve too much publicity and too much politicking. He was the face of Theia Labs, responsible to the shareholders for enhancing Theia’s image and making it the darling of Wall Street. He had to make sure all the super-inflated egos on the board were stroked and that each member felt needed and involved.
He had to admit he enjoyed his newfound fame and status at the start. But getting recognized on the street or at a restaurant, while great in the beginning, was getting out of hand. He was someone who had chosen the shadows to the spotlight his entire life, and who valued his privacy.
To his credit, once he had figured out that he didn’t enjoy being CEO and wasn’t the best man for the job, he had acted rapidly to bring in a world-class management team, which had been easy, since Theia had become the hottest company in history. He had chosen Hank Cohen, the number two man at Intel, and promised that if he joined Theia as president, Altschuler would trade titles with him within a year, although this had never been made public.
Steve Jobs had done the same in his early days at Apple. Recognizing he was out of his depth and with pressure from the board, he had hired the president of PepsiCo, John Scully, to become CEO, winning him over with words that had become forever enshrined in the cherished lore of nerd-dom. “Do you want to sell sugar water for the rest of your life?” Jobs had said. “Or do you want to come with me and change the world?”
Altschuler couldn’t wait to begin doing science again. Solving problems, as only he could. Given the double-edged sword that he was helping to release, the fate of civilization could well rest on his ability to help push quantum encryption over the finish line. But as it stood now, he was too busy to even keep up with the state-of-the-art, let alone extend it.
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