by Thomas Locke
Brett gave that a moment, long enough to see that almost all of the students were now taking notes. He glanced at Josie Banks, seated up on the top rung, and liked how she flashed him an approving smile.
Brett continued, “Deep inside every cell of every living organism are waves of shimmering force that can be everywhere at the same time. Even our human senses, our mental faculties, are tuned in to the strange impact of quantum energies. To understand life in its fullness, we have to gain an understanding of quantum rules.”
“Facts,” he said again. He turned to the board and wrote for the first time. Quantum Biology. “The first successful experiment that tied quantum mechanics to the messy real world of neurobiology was a study of migration. How is it possible that a bird can migrate twice each year, depart from a specific tree, travel two thousand miles, and land by a specific lake that it last saw six months earlier? The answer, we now know, is a specific element of quantum mechanics.”
Brett turned and wrote a second time. Quantum Entanglement. He faced the class once more and just stood there. He found a delicious pleasure in knowing they were his now. He recalled actors describing their first few moments upon the stage, when the audience remained a little hostile as they waited to be drawn in. Brett knew success in the class all came down to good theater. Either a professor had it or they didn’t. Knowledge, timing, passion . . . It could all be summed up in one word. Engage.
“This first experiment involved a little fellow I like to call Robin Hood. Always before, the assumption was that birds navigated via the earth’s magnetic field. But exactly how this was done remained a mystery. Five years ago, a Swedish scientist proved the bird’s magnetic compass actually resides in the eyes. He did this by fitting English robins with little hoods that covered one eye or the other. The hood did away with the robin’s ability to track. In future classes I’ll give you the details and show you videos of the experiments. Today I want you to try to grasp the big picture.”
Brett turned and wrote a third line on the central board. Outlier. “The importance of our little hooded robin cannot be overstated. This term, outlier, refers to data that is skewed so far away from the standard that it is discounted entirely. An outlier is the rogue element that demolishes a carefully controlled experiment. The one trial event that can’t be fitted inside the scientist’s safe little environment. Until this experiment, dinosaurs like your former professor classed all data pointing to the reality of quantum biology as outliers. Insignificant. Random quirks that could be erased and ignored. Because of our little robin, this is no longer possible.
“Inside the robin’s eyeballs, magnetic energy creates a chemical reaction similar to what light photons do in ours. Experiments have proven this. The robin navigates along a direct and constant heading, even in the dark.”
Brett circled the second line on the board. “All this comes about through quantum entanglement, a communication between particles that apparently happens faster than the speed of light. Einstein claimed this was impossible. He said quantum entanglement was ridiculous. Ladies and gentlemen, we now know that on this particular point, Einstein was wrong. We have proven that certain particles at the subatomic level are indeed paired, in the sense that they can communicate without any acknowledgment of either time or distance.”
Brett did not state the next thought that came to him. Throughout that long year of playing the journeyman to death, Brett had become increasingly certain that here was the key. This was the link that served as the core of human consciousness, even when the standard physical boundaries were stretched. He glanced at Lena and found himself excited by the prospect of sharing his thoughts. The prospect that she might indeed play a part in his new beginning left him slightly breathless.
Brett forced himself to refocus on the class and continued, “Inside the robin’s eyes, the earth’s magnetic field creates electrons that are entangled. Each subatomic particle has two possible states. Until the particle is measured, it is in neither state but rather both states at the same time. But when the robin jerks its head, shifting from one position to the next, it determines the particle’s measured state.
“Why Einstein discounted this, why he called it spooky, is because the state of this first measurement determines the state of all measurements to come. The vital factor as far as our little robin is concerned is this: the placement of these photons upon the earth’s surface, and the distance the robin is from the equator, determine the measured state within the robin’s eyes. Tiny variations in the earth’s magnetic field are enough to change this measured state, thus altering the robin’s compass readings. And this happens every time the bird jerks its head from side to side. This grants the robin its amazing ability to return to the exact same tree, two thousand miles and six months away.”
Brett had not consciously timed his words, but in the pause that followed, he glanced at his watch and realized, “That’s all the time we have today. We’ll begin the next class with your questions.”
Almost all the audience applauded.
25
Testing all the new applicants took Kevin until after midnight. Tuesday morning he arranged transport for the six new voyagers who had passed their trials. Then he and Reese left the motel and headed south on the airport highway, connecting eventually with State Road 192. Reese felt a sense of pleasure over coming back to her roots. This had once been known as the Kissimmee Highway and had been the main route from Holopaw to the coast. Her finest teenage memories all started with heading east as far as the road would take her, all the way through Melbourne and across the causeway bridge. There it changed names and became Fifth Avenue, before finally ending at a T-junction in front of the Indialantic boardwalk.
Today Kevin drove west, and the highway soon became four lanes chained on both sides by aging sprawl. The underbelly of Orlando and Disney was revealed, a tawdry parasite feeding off the theme parks, offering cut-rate alternatives to the expensive attractions farther north.
Kevin turned into the parking lot of a suites motel whose sign was repainted so the chain’s name was erased. But the job was done poorly, and the sign’s lighting flickered and sparked. The stretch of green separating the entrance from the highway held four banana plants so overgrown they blocked any view of the motel’s entrance. At the sign’s bottom was a hand-painted board that permanently declared “No Vacancy.”
Kevin pulled into the shaded forecourt and cut the motor. “On the parking lot’s other side is a low-rise with professional offices.”
Reese turned and glanced through the rear window. The next building was in better shape, with three floors of mirrored glass. “I see it.”
“We own that. A dentist and a chiropractor and a mortgage broker occupy the first floor. The mortgage guy is hanging on by his fingernails. Hasn’t paid his rent since we’ve been here. We’re not pressing.”
“Good cover,” Reese said, mostly to let him know she was following.
“The middle floor is our offices and official address. You want a secretary?”
“I don’t even want an office.”
“You’ve got one anyway. Next to mine. Fine view of the traffic and the power lines. Anyone stops by for an inspection, this is as far as they get. The top floor is assembly. Putting these neural nets together is a finicky job. Each one is made by hand, then it has to be individually tailored and calibrated. Vibratory calculations and positioning and stuff. We’ve got a good assembly team. Mostly Ecuadorians. The manager is from Ukraine. We pay double the going wages. They are loyal and they know to keep their mouths shut.”
“What’s the assembly rate?”
“Call it eighteen a month.” Kevin hesitated, then added, “But we only get to keep enough to equip our new voyagers. The others are shipped out.”
“Where do they go?”
“I have no idea.”
“Who calibrates them?”
“For our team, a technician comes over with every new batch of trainees. Takes about four hours pe
r novice. For the others, no idea. Not us.”
“Where did the technology come from?”
Kevin reached for the door handle. “They didn’t say.”
“Wait a second.” She saw how he didn’t settle back. The tension was there in his face. Ready to argue with the unspoken. But Reese said it anyway. “Do we want to know who is pulling our strings?”
Kevin gave her a shooter’s gaze and did not reply.
“Let’s look past the risk,” Reese said. “Just for a second.”
“Can we? Ignore the risk, I mean. And survive.”
“I didn’t say ignore it. I said look past. Do we need to know?”
“You think we do.”
She did not nod so much as rock side to side. “It could prove useful. Important, even.”
“Insurance.”
“Or knowing what to feed them, and when. And how much we can ask for in return.”
Kevin did not so much relax as pull back a notch. Taking the pressure off his mental trigger. “That could be dangerous.”
“Extremely,” she agreed. But she knew he agreed with her. And knew also that Kevin was still sitting there discussing this because he had been thinking the same thing. “We’d need to hide the search by looking for something else. Hunt for something they want us to find. Because you and I both know they’ll have spies planted inside our team.”
“I have an idea who one of them is. Maybe two.”
“Give me a chance to look for myself, then we’ll compare notes.”
Kevin opened his door and let the humid air wash over them both. “You have an idea?”
“More like a framework. So when the opportunity arises, then we can move.”
“You’ll tell me before you act?”
“I won’t go unless you agree we should.”
Kevin’s gaze tightened once more, only this time it was with approval. “I was right to insist they bring you in.”
Reese entered the motel just as the van carrying the novices pulled into the lot. The reception desk was staffed by a sallow-faced woman whose spiky hair bore a trio of colors that had never made it into the rainbow. Kevin handed Reese a plastic key and said, “You’re in 211. I’ll see to the newbies and meet you back here.”
Reese ignored the eyes that tracked her as she crossed the foyer and took the stairs. She entered the room and found herself in a surprisingly luxurious apartment. The suites motel had been gutted, two studios reformed into large one-bedroom units, and kitted out with an eye for understated elegance. The shower was too nice to pass up, tiled in grey marble with a granite sink and stocked with towels and shampoo and lotions bearing the logo of some Park Avenue boutique. She dressed in sweats and checked her watch as she left the room. In and out in eight minutes. In prison, speed through semi-public spaces meant safety.
But when she returned downstairs, Kevin was already pacing an angry furrow by the front window. More people were drifting around the perimeters, no doubt drawn here by her arrival. But Kevin didn’t have time for them either. He gripped Reese just above the right elbow and drew her outside. “I was planning to give you the ten-cent tour. Then you were going to address the troops. All this is important and it needs to be done.”
“What’s happened?”
“I got a call from Vera. We have a new assignment. They need something from us.”
“From the two-step you’re doing, I assume the timeline is tight.”
“They need it now, Reese. Today. We’ve never been given anything like this.”
She said it for him. “Vera wants me to fail.”
“There’s clearly some pushback over you making it this far,” he said. “But Vera sounded genuinely stressed. You’ve met her. She doesn’t have the capacity to pretend. She is being pressured. So hard, in fact, she sounded frightened.”
“Then we’ve got to meet this head-on.”
“What if we fail?”
She liked how he included himself in this. The normal Washington response to any new hazard was to walk away. Lower the threat level to number one. Instead, Kevin remained joined. Even when his concern was beaded across his forehead.
Reese switched positions with him. She took hold of his arm, leaned in close, and said, “First off, we’re not failing. Second, this is exactly what we needed. This is our in.”
All the hardships he had faced over the previous twelve months were there in his uncertain tone. “We’re moving too fast.”
“Correction. They’re forcing us to move fast. Which means their system is fractured by pressure.”
“Maybe,” Kevin said.
But Reese was already moving. “Go see what Vera wants from us, then assemble the voyagers on duty. I need to have a look around.”
Reese made a slow tour through most of the facility. She pretended to be fascinated by the café, the monitoring station, the three former conference rooms turned into departures lounges. There was no telling what the interior designer had thought of all this—the building’s untouched exterior, the lovely apartments, the enlarged space to take meals, the new and beautifully appointed conference lobby, and three large rooms holding leather dentist chairs and an array of electronic equipment. A fourth was transformed into the monitoring chamber, sporting two walls of computer screens and five swivel chairs done in leather and chrome. The door to the monitoring chamber had a Keep Out sign. By the time Reese completed her circuit and returned to the lobby, she had a basic idea of what she needed to know.
Kevin hurried back through the sliding glass doors and held out a file. “This is all the data on our new target they’ve supplied us.”
Reese made no move to take the file. “How many are in today’s team?”
“Twelve. Two out sick.”
“Three crews, right?”
“Two full strength, one that will be when you get the newbies up and running. I should have them kitted out in a few days.”
“Make me twelve copies of that file.” When Kevin frowned in response, she went on, “I want the voyagers to work with me.”
He nodded slowly. Uncertain how he felt, but unwilling to object. “I’ll be right back.”
“Hang on a second. Where is the security station?”
“Manager’s office. They’re under orders to keep a low profile.”
“Show me.”
He was nervous and clearly feeling pressure that he wished she felt as well. Which she did. But Reese had learned not to reveal her emotions.
Kevin swung around the receptionist’s desk and knocked on the blank door. There was a click, and they entered a warren that was meant to go unseen. A man and a woman were seated in the guard station, facing monitors and a long metal desk of equipment. A rank of guns was locked to the wall opposite them. A trio of whiteboards stood on swivel stands, filled now with photos and names of all the newcomers. Reese saw her photograph at the top of one board. She checked out the space beside her name, read her DOB, her education, her official positions with the fictitious companies that had formed her cover. Nothing about her work for the government or the more secret work that had come before, no comments about how she had spent the past fourteen months. She turned away.
Kevin told Reese the guards’ names, which she instantly forgot, then he said, “This is Reese Clawson, my new number two. What she says carries the same weight as anything coming directly from me.”
Reese felt her skin crawl as the guards observed her with the bland curiosity of professionals. They did not speak. One guard was male, the other female, both in their early thirties, heavyset and wearing jeans and pale blue T-shirts.
She followed Kevin through the next door and into the ready room. Another two guards were seated at the central table. The room smelled of microwaved lasagna. The guy was watching a basketball game on his tablet, the woman read a book. The pair slipped off headphones and listened as Kevin went through the same introductory process. When he was done, he told Reese, “Originally we had them stationed in the other building. But th
ere were problems.”
The guy said, “Nobody taught that crew to play nice.”
“Mostly a lot of screaming and hissy fits,” the woman said. “Some thefts. Two accusations of assaults.”
“We determined one of the assaults was real and kicked them out,” Kevin said.
“We had to get tough with a couple of the others,” the woman said. She asked Kevin, “You told her about the four?”
“Not yet.”
“There’s this group,” the guy said. “They like to pretend they run things. One female does not agree. She lives on the fringe.”
Reese asked, “What’s she called?”
“Ridley. Just the one name.”
“She’s a piece of work,” the woman said.
“We do what we can,” Kevin said. “Which included moving the security detail over here.”
“And issuing us these.” The guy pulled a baton from his belt, whipped it open, and hit a button. An electronic current shot across the forked tip. “We call them sparklers.”
Reese thanked the guards and said to Kevin, “That’s enough. Let’s get to work.”
She followed him back into the lobby and waited while he left through the sliding glass doors. Then she turned to the receptionist and asked, “Where’s the gym?”
The woman inspected Reese while she chewed her gum. “Downstairs. But the pool’s outside.”
“Thank you.”
“Hang on a second.” The receptionist tilted her head, gauging whether she should say anything more. “Now’s probably not a good time.”
“You can reserve the gym?”
“Not exactly. But there’s a person in there, and Ridley’s not much on company. You know?”
Reese wanted to rush around the desk and hug the young woman. Instead, she nodded her thanks and headed for the stairs. Beyond the rear glass door she could see the oval pool and the two Jacuzzis and the tall enclosing fence. The area held a clutch of people awkwardly trying to have a good time. She took the stairs and walked the carpeted hall and stopped where she could look through the narrow window in the gym’s door. The electronic lock had been disabled, and the light above it burned permanently green. Reese sighed softly. One glance was enough to know she had located what she had been desperately hoping to find. One crucial part of the puzzle she needed to put together in order to survive.