Wired

by Douglas E. Richards

  He gasped again!

  He had remembered yet another surprising conclusion reached by his super intelligent alter ego: he was in love with Kira Miller.

  “What is it?” asked Kira anxiously.

  Desh turned to her. He looked into her dazzling blue eyes, and now that his alter ego had shined a spotlight on his emotions he realized it was true: he was in love. Or infatuated at any rate. His entire being basked in her presence. She was like a drug to which he had become hopelessly addicted without his knowledge or consent. The rewards of breathless intellect were great, but the primitive lizard brain manufactured rewards of its own. “Nothing,” whispered Desh. “Sorry.”

  Kira looked puzzled but let the subject drop.

  Desh knew he could continue to gaze at her beautiful face forever. She truly was an extraordinary woman. But now was not the time to give into these irrational impulses. Now was the time to focus on one thing only: survival.

  Desh tore his eyes away from her and focused on the road. “How’s your head?” he asked worriedly.

  “It’s getting better,” she said unconvincingly.

  Desh suspected she was lying but decided to leave the subject alone. “It won’t be long before Sam discovers what happened at the safe house and points a satellite this way,” he said. “So in the immediate term, we have to get as far away from this spot as possible.” As if to emphasize his point he stepped hard on the accelerator.

  “And the not so immediate term?”

  “We need to elevate our game. It’s time for more desperate measures. And for that we need Connelly.”

  In response, Kira pulled out her cell phone, the partner to the one she had given Connelly, and flipped it open.

  “You’re certain the signal can’t be unscrambled?” said Desh.

  “Absolutely positive,” she confirmed. She hit a speed dial button and handed the phone to Desh.

  The colonel answered on the first ring and they exchanged greetings.

  “What the hell happened to you two?” asked Connelly worriedly.

  Desh frowned. “Sorry about the radio silence. We ran into trouble but we’re clear now—as far as we know. Assume this is a private channel. What’s your status?”

  “We’re still with my doctor friend at his house,” reported Connelly immediately. “I’ve been patched up and filled with blood and pain-killers. I’ve gotten plenty of sleep and am recovering nicely. And Matt has brought me up to speed on events.”

  “Understood,” said Desh. “I now have a much clearer picture of what we’re dealing with than I had when we separated. I’ll brief you further as soon as I can. Bottom line is that I’m now absolutely convinced Kira is innocent and an ally. But a lot of really bad shit is about to happen if we don’t move quickly.”

  “How bad?”

  “Bad enough to make me wish for the original Ebola plot you told me about.” He didn’t wait for the colonel’s reply. “The soldiers in the clearing were told you’d gone rogue. Was it just these men who were misinformed, or is it more widespread?”

  “It probably wasn’t initially, but it sure is now. They’ve poisoned the entire well. The military is convinced I’m a traitor and will do whatever is necessary to bring me down.”

  “Understood,” said Desh. “You trusted this doctor with your life. Anyone at Bragg you would trust with your life who can fly a chopper; and has access?”

  Connelly considered. “Yes.”

  Desh sighed. “Let me put this another way. Anyone at Bragg who would trust you with their life. Someone who will believe you’ve been framed and will risk their career and life to stick by you.” Moriarty would have made sure the misinformation he had put out to frame Connelly had been devastating and airtight. It would take quite a man to put the trust of a friend over damning information put forth by the highest levels of legitimate military authority.

  There was a long pause. “I’m as sure as I can be,” replied Connelly. “But I guess we’re going to find out,” he added evenly.

  “Make sure to throw all the weaponry and any other military equipment you can find into the chopper before you leave,” said Desh. “We don’t know exactly what we’ll need, so the more the merrier.” He paused. “Not to put any added pressure on you,” continued Desh soberly, “but getting this chopper is mission critical. I’ll brief you fully when I see you, but trust me: the stakes couldn’t be any higher.”

  “Understood,” said Connelly grimly.

  “Good luck, Colonel,” said Desh. “Call me when you’re in the air and we can choose a rendezvous point.”

  “Roger that,” said Connelly somberly as the connection ended.

  38

  David Desh found a main road and stayed on it for ten minutes until he located an all-night convenience store. A dented four-door Chrysler, filled with teenaged boys whose radio was blasting hip-hop at eardrum-crushing decibel levels, pulled out just as they arrived, leaving the lot empty.

  They entered the deserted store. Kira hastily opened a bottle of the most potent pain pills she could find and quickly downed twice the recommended dosage. Desh bought a dozen glazed cake-donuts, each having the density of a neutron star. He finished eating two of the donuts before he had paid for them, wolfing them down as if his life were at stake. He desperately needed to replace the glucose his amped-up brain had devoured, and the speed with which a donut unleashed its glucose into the blood stream—its glycemic index—was legendary.

  Desh continued cramming donuts into his mouth like a participant in a hot-dog eating contest as he drove, washing them down with the two quarts of Gatorade he had also purchased at the store. They had learned from the attendant that they were fifty miles east of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and they headed off in the direction of this city.

  Given that Desh had now experienced her gene therapy, Kira was eager to compare notes with him. Before long the conversation turned to Desh’s theories on how her brain optimization could be safely used for the good of civilization, as well as conquering space so extended life could be introduced without threatening disaster.

  Now Desh understood precisely what Kira had been afraid of and why she had sworn off her therapy. He had only undergone the treatment a single time, during which his boundless but ruthless intellect had already begun to crowd out much of his innate compassion, and his feelings of kinship with the rest of humanity and concern for human welfare had dramatically diminished.

  But this could be managed—and harnessed. The hyper-intelligence only lasted for about an hour, but thankfully, so did the antisocial effects. When the brain’s structure returned to normal, so did a subject’s true nature. Emotions and compassion and altruism returned as if they had never left.

  He explained his vision to Kira. An individual couldn’t be trusted with the power of her therapy, but a team could—if it was properly chosen. Even Frodo hadn’t gone it alone.

  Desh trusted Connelly with his life and his every instinct told him that Griffin was a good man as well. If Connelly could vouch for the pilot he was even now recruiting, Desh was prepared to trust him also, at least for now. Like it or not, the five of them would already be in the game and would form the core team. But after this, newcomers they wanted to recruit with important expertise would be carefully screened. The first level could be done in the same way Kira had screened Desh, by studying their computer-accessible histories. Once this level was passed the newcomers would be screened further; still without their knowledge. Desh was certain that if he was optimized again, his enormous intellect and enhanced understanding of the nuances of human physiology and body language would enable him to invent a foolproof detector, not just of lies but of intentions; of innate virtue. Those that passed these screens would be added to the team.

  Only one subject would ever be enhanced at a time, and this would occur under security conditions that would turn the gold in Fort Knox green with envy. And Desh knew that the people who passed their screens would welcome these precautions, and even insist
upon them, wanting to be sure their super-intelligent alter egos couldn’t escape to do things they would regret upon returning to dim-witted normalcy.

  The ever growing team, probably organized into a private company, would be sworn to secrecy and would be motivated by a desire to improve the human condition rather than by greed or power—the testing would ensure this was the case. And improve the human condition they would. Enhanced economists could derive revolutionary theories to lift third world economies. Physicists could develop clean energy that could be produced at a fraction of the current cost: cold fusion perhaps.

  And the team would be ever mindful of the lessons of Midas. They would analyze their breakthrough inventions with great care to be certain their introduction didn’t have unintended consequences that might prove disastrous, as had been the case with Kira’s age-retardation treatment.

  The team would advance civilization, and all the proceeds from their inventions would be poured back into turning additional ideas, conceived by optimized minds, into reality. They would continue to selectively recruit additional top talent: expanding the team’s base of expertise and relentlessly extending the frontiers of human knowledge. All the while they would channel massive resources into revolutionary propulsion systems to bring unlimited habitable planets within human reach, and the gift of a greatly extended lifespan to the entire species.

  Meanwhile, Kira could work with a team of biologists and psychologists to find a way to enhance someone’s intelligence while maintaining their core humanity. To scale up, not just their intellect, but their capacity for selflessness as well. He couldn’t believe that hyper-intelligence and compassion could not coexist. If anyone could find a way to accomplish this, she could.

  Kira was at first skeptical, but as Desh fleshed out his vision and answered many of her concerns, she became intrigued. It was a utopian dream. But as long as the Mr. Hydes they created were contained by multiply redundant security measures, and foolproof screening technology could be perfected, they could turn this dream into reality. Desh was finally able to persuade her that he was right: that she had thrown in the towel too quickly.

  Desh knew that the vision he had had while enhanced was truly breathtaking in scope and ambition, but this didn’t change the current stark reality. They were wanted and on the run. Kira had an explosive device in her skull with little time remaining. If they were unable to defeat Moriarty, his utopian vision would be forever unrealized.

  They had been driving for close to an hour when Kira’s phone rang. Desh took a deep breath and answered. It was the colonel, as expected, and the news was good! He was in the air. His friend, a Major Ross Metzger, had come through.

  The colonel handed the phone to Metzger and he and Desh exchanged greetings. Desh offered his heartfelt thanks and gave him their location near Lancaster. Metzger consulted his onboard computer and after a few minutes suggested a rendezvous point. If they caught route 283 northwest toward Elizabethtown, they would find a high school just outside the city limits. The helicopter would land on the fifty yard-line of the school’s football field.

  Desh spotted the school forty minutes later. He parked in the lot, and they walked the short distance to the field. They had been unable to find a flashlight in the stolen car so their vision was severely limited on this dark night. They stationed themselves under the bleachers and awaited their ride. Even by helicopter, it would take Metzger a while to cover the distance from Bragg, probably another hour or so.

  This wasn’t the first time he had been under the bleachers with a beautiful girl, Desh reflected, but never as an adult, and never a girl like this. He desperately wanted to hold her. He suppressed this ridiculous impulse, disgusted with himself. Civilization was coming to a fork in the tracks, with one track leading toward heaven and the other toward hell, and his actions could determine who controlled the switching station. What an epitaph that would make: the future of humanity destroyed because the man in a position to stop the threat was in the thrall of infatuation and couldn’t keep his head in the game.

  After what seemed like an eternity they heard the sound of a chopper cutting through the night sky, and minutes later an elongated helicopter appeared above the field, its body dimensions roughly those of a dragonfly. It hovered noisily over the fifty-yard line and lowered itself to the ground. Desh and Kira jumped through a wide opening in the middle of the aircraft and were greeted heartily by Griffin and Connelly as the helicopter lifted off once again. Despite the presence of eight steel troop seats facing the front of the craft and two side-facing gunner seats, all the passengers remained standing, holding on to straps to help maintain their balance.

  Connelly was wearing a sling on his left arm to prevent movement, but looked surprisingly good. Griffin looked somewhat ridiculous without his facial hair—a clean-cut Wookie—but Desh pretended not to notice any difference in the man.

  “Jesus, Colonel,” shouted Desh appreciatively over the din of the helicopter. “You got us a Blackhawk?”

  “Only because Bragg was all out of Harriers,” replied Connelly wryly.

  39

  Jim Connelly handed them both a sophisticated set of padded black headphones, with a speaker arm they could position under their mouths. They slipped them over their heads while Connelly repositioned the set he had been using, which he had removed while greeting them.

  Metzger was in the pilot’s seat in the front of the chopper. He looked back over his right shoulder. “Where to?” he said into his own headset. He was about the same age as the colonel, with black hair and bushy eyebrows.

  “Hagerstown, Maryland,” said Kira in a normal tone of voice. Even so, the entire group could easily hear her through the headphones, which did a remarkable job of insulated their ears from the unrelenting din of the chopper. “It’s about seventy miles northwest of D.C.”

  Metzger nodded and the Blackhawk swooped off on a southwesterly heading. He dialed up a map on his computer and within minutes settled on a flight plan. When he had the aircraft under control he reached back and shook hands with Desh and then Kira in turn.

  “We appreciate the ride, major,” said Desh. “Do you think you got away cleanly?”

  “I think so,” he answered. “I altered some computerized flight logs to disguise the theft. Hopefully this will buy us a day.” He shrugged. “I also disabled the transponder so they can’t locate us immediately when they do discover the unauthorized use.”

  “Well done,” said Desh.

  Metzger nodded to acknowledge the compliment. “We should be there in about thirty minutes,” he announced. “Where do we land?”

  The four passengers eyed each other for inspiration, but no one offered any immediate thoughts. A Blackhawk wouldn’t be easy to hide.

  “We need abandoned areas that don’t get any traffic,” said Metzger. “Think.”

  Kira pursed her lips in concentration. She had been living in a trailer park just outside of Hagerstown for months. She should be able to come up with something. “There’s a community pool near the town’s northern border,” she said. “After summer it’s drained and the facility is chained up. It has a very large deep-end we could land in.”

  Metzger shook his head. “Won’t be deep enough. This bird’s almost seventeen feet high.”

  Damn, thought Kira in frustration. She turned back to sorting through additional possibilities. They had been picked up in a football field. While this was a nice wide-open space, it couldn’t conceal the chopper. She smiled. Perhaps she just had the wrong sport. “There’s a minor league baseball team in Haggerstown,” she said. “The Suns. They play in Municipal stadium. Seats over 4000. Enclosed by bleachers and a home-run fence.”

  “How tall are the bleachers?” asked Metzger.

  She had never been to a game but had driven by the stadium on many occasions. “At the entrance, behind home plate, taller than seventeen feet.”

  “Is it locked up in the off-season?”

  “Can’t imagine it’s not,�
�� replied Kira.

  “How close to residential areas?”

  “Not,” she replied. “Fairly industrial. No bars or stores in the area open at night.”

  “Sounds like we have a winner,” said Metzger. “Let’s give it a go.”

  With this decided, Desh motioned to Connelly to join him in the back of the chopper. The two men knelt beside two large, green canvas bags that Connelly had loaded aboard that contained a wide assortment of weapons and other equipment. Desh unzipped the first bag and inspected the contents approvingly: four combat knives, plasticuffs, metal handcuffs, rope, tape, six flashlights, a first aid kit, a wire cutter, a bolt cutter, and six pairs of night vision goggles. Desh also found several assault vests sporting multiple pockets for weapons, spare clips and grenades.

  The second bag contained a wide variety of electronic and communication equipment, four H&K .45s, four MP-5 machine pistols, and a dozen stun grenades. These grenades were also known as flashbangs. Like this name implied, they would create such an intensely bright flash and earsplitting bang that they would blind and deafen an enemy for about ten seconds. Several pairs of eye protectors and electronic earplugs were present as well to minimize the effects of the stun grenades on those who were using them. Finally, Desh located several empty rucksacks that could be filled for specific missions as needed.

  Connelly had done well. He had loaded the chopper for bear as Desh had requested.

  As Desh continued inspecting the equipment he removed his headphones and motioned for the colonel to do the same. He leaned in close to Connelly’s ear. “This Metzger really came through for you,” he shouted. “But it’s inner circle time. I’m going to lay out information so sensitive I don’t trust myself with it.” He looked at Connelly meaningfully.

  “He’s solid,” bellowed Connelly, but even so Desh could barely hear him. “He was on my team back in the day. We’ve been on dozens of missions together, including some that went bad. Real bad. Clusterfucks. He’s as good as it gets.”